::  Chasing Francesca  ::

Chapter Two

Over Western Europe
August 10
0700 Hours

Webb hadn’t slept much but he insisted on relieving Rabb for a few hours. "Go. I’ll leave the autopilot on and wake you if anything changes color." Rabb pulled Mac back into the cabin with him. Webb hoped they both got some sleep. [[Someone needs to. AJ probably won’t. At least he has someone to curl up with, if he isn’t busting her chops for sneaking on board. I wonder what that feels like? I wonder if any woman would ever do that for me?]]

He went back to wake Rabb, finding him curled around Mac. They had figured out how to lower the armrest between two of the seats. Webb grimaced and nudged the top gun. "The alarm went off, we’re a hundred miles out."

"I’m on it. Hey, Jarhead, find my clean clothes."

Mac groaned but sat up. "Coffee, Webb." It really wasn’t been a request.

He rapped sharply on the bedroom door and wasn’t surprised when it opened immediately. AJ was standing there, fully dressed in his summer whites, shaved and ready to go. "You find the clean underwear?"

"Yeah, Webb, I’m touched." AJ replied sarcastically.

Webb didn’t bother to answer him. Instead he went to the galley, made coffee and brought the pastries that were in one of the cabinets. "Don’t dawdle, Mac. My stuff’s back there." He sighed as Mac, suitcases in hand walked back to the bedroom. He drank from his coffee cup warily eying AJ. "I…uhm…called ahead. Someone is bringing Dr. Cavanaugh clean clothes. I figure she really didn’t plan on being here and didn’t bring a change."

"No I didn’t, Mr. Webb. I washed out my things, but thank you for thinking of me." She walked down the aisle and crawled over AJ’s legs to sit in the seat next to him. "So, I have a code name, what can I do to help."

"Nothing!" AJ ground out. "You will not leave this plane, Meredith…Please."

Meredith gave Webb a look that clearly said, "Go away." Webb reached up into an overhead cabinet, pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it on the table before AJ. He finished his coffee and went back to the bedroom.

"Mac? You decent?" He opened the door. "Hey, Mac. Can I get my suit?"

"Come on in Webb, I’m in the bathroom."

"Thanks." He closed the door and went to the closet. Quickly he stripped and put on fresh underwear and his slacks. Picking up his jacket, vest and shirt in one hand and his shaving kit in the other, he called out. "I’ll use the bathroom up front."

She opened the door and stepped out. "No need, I’m done." She wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that accentuated her figure. "Will this be okay?"

"Yeah. You and Rabb are going in as back up. You can play tourists. I know you will keep an eye on AJ, watch his six." He smiled at his use of Naval jargon.

She walked up to him and softly whispered, "We’ll watch your six too, Webb, until you save her. After that – you’re on your own."

"Huh?" He swallowed, but she just walked away and opened the door.

"Oh, Mr. Webb, I don’t want to be in your shoes, when he finds out."

As she closed the door behind her, he closed his eyes and whispered. "He will never know. Neither will she."

He nearly cut his throat as the plane touched ground. Wiping the blood from his chin he stared into his bloodshot eyes. "Just let me save her. She doesn’t know what she’s involved in. Please, just let me get her out and into her father’s arms. That’s not too much to ask."

He finished dressing and opened the bathroom door to find Rabb stripped down to his skivvies. "My turn. Mac told me the plan. Put a lot of thought in it, Webb?"

"Sometimes, Rabb, over-planning is a killer. Just be prepared for anything. I have to go and make sure AJ knows he can’t let anything slip when he makes the phone call."

"He won’t, Webb. I just hope to hell everything goes okay today. If it doesn’t…" He let the rest hang in the air between them.

"I know, Rabb." Webb chewed his upper lip. "Uhm…Look, thanks for coming."

Rabb snorted. "Like I had a choice?" Webb closed the door and he finished. "You couldn’t have just asked? You knew I would do it for him, don’t you know I would have done it for you too?" Rabb took a cleansing breath, got down on the sliver of floor between the wall and the bed and quickly did 50 push ups and then 50 sit ups. It wasn’t his normal routine, but it worked the kinks out. Quickly he went to rinse the sweat off his body and shave. "Some luxury jet, no showers?" he grumbled.

After AJ hung up the phone he announced, "Something’s the matter. She sounded scared."

"Damn it." Webb cursed but kept his emotions under control. He felt a light touch on his arm and he looked down to see Meredith squeezing it.

"You guys will get her out. And bring down the bad guys."

"That’s just it, Doctor, the only way to take out the bad guys is for them to try and take AJ. There is sure to be bloodshed today. AJ’s right, you should stay here."

Meredith stood up, and went to stand in front of AJ. "You’re going in to meet Francesca and this Vajda. Mac and Rabb are going in to watch your back and Mr. Webb is going to go in too." She paused and considered him for a moment. "Did you know I taught in Budapest for four years, AJ?"

He groaned at the seeming non sequitur. "So?" He had tried to tell her he couldn’t bear to loose her. He had lost too many people. He even told her about Laura Delaney stepping on that land mine meant for him.

"So? I can drive the car. I know the streets and that will free up that agent to serve as extra back up."

"No!"

"Yes. Damn it, AJ. Let me do this. For once in my life, let me do something that will actually help save someone’s life."

"You have no training."

"Don’t I? Do you know when I taught here, AJ? In 1989. It was at the height of the tension before the free elections. Kidnappings were rampant everywhere. The university insisted that we all take the defensive driving classes the State Department was running. I really did excel in it. My teacher told me I could be a driver for the ambassador anytime I wanted. It’s an extra man, AJ. You need all the help you can get."

"Show time." Webb announced when he saw the cab pulling up next to the hatch. "The cab is driven by one of our men. He’s just a cab driver, but trustworthy. We can’t risk all of us going together; we know the airport is being watched. Luckily we’ve spotted the watcher. We’ll leave after you. Follow the plan AJ. Check into the hotel, just like we planned. Don’t get antsy. Don’t try and scout out the restaurant." He took a deep breath, looked a Meredith briefly and then continued. "We will leave here an hour before I’m supposed to meet Vajda. The SUV is bulletproof and a bomb detonated right underneath it might lift it up in the air – a little. The damn thing has got the biggest engine in we could find and it still won’t get above 60 mph. But tell me now. We can use her. I checked Dr. Cavanaugh out last night and she did pass the defensive driving course – with flying colors. Yes or no?"

AJ’s look told Webb what would happen to him if anything happened to Meredith. "She has made it perfectly clear she is a woman full grown, Webb. It’s her call," he ground out. Giving Meredith her own glare, he turned to exit the plane. She was right behind him and everyone else turned away – the intensity of their kiss noticeably raising the temperature in the cabin. When they parted, she stayed at the hatch until the cab sped away. Mac and Rabb checked the guns Webb had given them. Mac put her piece in her purse. Rabb wore a bulky cotton sweater and tucked the .45 in his waistband.

Webb paced. He straightened his tie endlessly. On one pass he found Meredith watching him closing. "By the way Doctor, that teacher who said you could drive for the ambassador, was one of ours. He was always on the look out for new prospects for the Agency. He sent in a report on you – it’s still on file. Someone should have tried to recruit you back then, but there was another shake up going on so the paperwork got lost for a while."

"Oh."

Webb could have sworn she was disappointed. "Are you sure, Doctor?" He saw the flash of white outside. "The van’s here."

"I’m sure. And I promise. I won’t get out of the van."

"Damned right you won’t." He said as he twisted the door open and a lithe looking operative ran up the steps.

"Here are those clothes you ordered, boss."

Meredith grabbed the shopping back. "Don’t you dare leave without me."

"Jenkins, everything set?"

"What set? There wasn’t enough time to set up mikes. I did get a couple of our agents to go in and ‘save’ the tables we wanted. But as soon as these two" he nodded to Mac and Rabb, "show up, they’re gone. If you are still at the table with Vajda when the Admiral shows up, the one at the table you wanted will get up and leave. They’ll be no good in a firefight."

"Are they going to give anything away?"

"No. They’ve all done this before. Of course, I didn’t tell them who the target was."

"We really are pathetic bastards, Jenkins."

"Somebody has to be, boss."

"I’m ready." Meredith blushed. She was sure that neither man had meant her to over hear their conversation.

Webb took her elbow. "You should drive there. You know, get the feel of the city again."

She took a deep breath. "I won’t let you down, Mr. Webb. We’ll save her. She smiled and in an eerie replay of Mac’s warning, finished. "But, when AJ finds out, you’re on your own."

"Uh…Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Yes, Mr. Webb?"

He had started to ask her why she thought AJ would find out, but instead, as he opened the driver’s door for her, he changed his mind, "You don’t have to call me mister."

"Sure thing, Clay." She smiled at the shocked look on his face. She knew he had meant she should call him Webb just like everyone else did. But she found she rather liked the annoying spy. She had caught his slip the day before and rather suspected that Clayton Webb would do damn near anything to protect AJ’s daughter and that it had very little to do with the fact that she was AJ’s daughter. Taking a cleansing breath she quickly checked the dashboard. Rabb claimed shotgun, Mac and Webb climbed in behind them. Jenkins squeezed into the back. "Uhm…Clay?"

"Yes…Meredith?"

"Where's the laser gun?" she asked with a straight face.

Webb and Mac chuckled. Rabb buried his head in his hands. Jenkins snorted and said, "I think I like this one, Webb."

"Just make sure you keep an eye on her, Jenks. You’ll be lookout. You’ll need to signal if he has any reinforcements. If it looks like it's going to hell, you give Meredith the signal – Meredith?"

"Yes?" She looked back at him in the mirror.

Webb clenched his fist and jerked his elbow down straight and then pointed. "You see that, you get the hell out of there and hightail it to the embassy. How well do you remember the city?"

"The embassy is on Szabadság tér."

Jenkins whistled. "She’s got the pronunciation down."

"I was a teacher here for four years, Mr. Jenkins."

"Yes ma’am." The man grinned from the back of the van.

She stopped the Land Rover three blocks away from the restaurant. Webb got out, dusted the wrinkles off his suit and leaned in. "You guys know where to sit. Harm, Francesca knows you. If she seems happy and calls out to you, then AJ was wrong and she still doesn’t suspect anything. I don’t know how to handle that. But I think AJ is right. I don’t know why, but I do."

"We’ll figure it out, Webb. Like you said, sometimes over-planning can be deadly."

"After our meeting, I don’t think he will have me stay at his table, but I also don’t think he will think anything is amiss if I move to another table and pull out paperwork." With that he reached into his pocket and pulled out black plastic framed glasses.

"Ooo. Clark Kent." Mac smiled.

"Yeah, I hope that suit of yours is bulletproof," Rabb threw out.

Webb walked to the restaurant and looked through the plate glass window. He wasn’t surprised to see that Vajda was already there. Francesca was beside him. Before, when he had met with them, she had always been bubbly and happy. Now her head was down, her hair hanging on either side, covering her face. He gulped and pushed open the door [[Just let us save her. Get her and her father and Mac and Rabb out of here alive. That’s all I ask.]]

He cleared his throat and spoke in Dutch, {{Good afternoon, Herr Vajda. I have that paperwork you needed for our mutual friends.}}

"Denys, you know I’ve told you not to speak Dutch around Chesca." Vajda nudged the girl beside him and Francesca jumped like he had stuck her with a knife. Webb saw the bandage at her neck and he had to swallow several times to stay in control. "Chesca, say hello to Mr. Verwat."

Francesca lifted her eyes to the man next to her. "Hello Mr. Verwat."

[[I’m going to kill you, you son-of-a-bitch.]] Webb silently vowed. In a thick Dutch accent he said, "You are feeling unwell, Frauline?"

As Vajda’s nails dug into her arm, Francesca met Webb’s concerned gaze. "A little hung over, perhaps." She told the lie that Vajda had insisted upon. "We were celebrating last night."

"Yes. We are engaged, Denys. Chesca’s papa is coming in to meet me. A very important man."

"I see." Webb said. He reached down and put his brief case on the table. The side pocket was carefully rigged to allow him easy access to the pistol inside. "I have those papers. I am very tight for time. My plane…"

"Yes, yes, Denys. Let me have them, and you can leave."

"Well…uhm…yes, I could leave, but I am very hungry."

"Well I’m not feeding you!"

"No, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. I would like to order. I will sit over there. I do not wish to intrude." [[God, I play the fawning toad so well.]]

The door opened and he watched as Harm and Mac took the suddenly empty corner table. The restaurant was very crowded and Webb suspected that Vajda’s men occupied many of the tables. Francesca didn’t even look over at Harm.

Webb and Vajda completed their business and as he was gathering up his papers, Webb saw the SUV pull up outside, taking the spot of a car that had been waiting there for it to arrive. Right as Webb settled at a table next to the kitchen door, AJ came into sight. [[Stay calm, AJ. Her life and yours depend on it.]]

AJ spotted Meredith right away but by now he had become completely focused on the mission at hand. He had to think of this as a mission. He knew that if he allowed himself to be controlled by his emotions then they would all lose. He spotted Francesca immediately but swallowed his anger – no channeled his anger into heightened awareness. Webb was by the kitchen door. All he had to do was flip over the table and he could be at Francesca’s side in three strides. Mac and Harm were at the opposite end of the restaurant and if they had wanted to they could have the terrorist in crossfire. That’s not what they wanted. Besides, he had spotted at least three men outside who matched the photos Webb had shown him this morning. "There’re more that we don’t know about, but if you spot any of these men, assume that anyone near them is dangerous too."

His smile was probably frightening to anyone who knew him. Francesca, pulled out of her chair by Vajda, stepped forward to hug him. "Baby. It’s so good to see you." He would have said more but Vajda was right there next to her. "Honey? Are you okay?"

"I’m sorry, papa. I didn’t sleep very much last night."

Vajda put his arm around her and AJ could see her flinch. "Admiral Chegwidden. It is all my fault. Please forgive me. When I heard you were coming today I was so excited that we stayed out way too late. We don’t usually do that." He held out his right hand, "Excuse me, sir. Chesca has told me so much about you that I feel we have known each other for years. János Vajda."

Maybe some expression of disgust flitted across his face. Perhaps Rabb or Mac tipped Vajda off or Francesca moaned something. Perhaps it was something more nebulous than that; some sixth sense that had kept the terrorist alive. Whatever it was, suddenly a look of pure hatred crossed the terrorist’s face. AJ didn’t wait for more. He reached out for his daughter, but Vajda flung her back and reached for something behind his back.

Someone yelled out, "Gun." And all hell broke loose.

Outside, Jenkins saw it go sour almost before it happened. His gun was in his hand before he took a step. Unfortunately, two of Vajda’s men were within three feet of him. He saw the movement and turned to fire, striking one of the assailants. He fell to the sidewalk a bullet in his shoulder. He tried to grab his gun off the street where it had fallen, but another gunman came running up and aimed right for his head. Neither man heard the squeal of tires from across the street.

Inside the restaurant, Mac and Rabb stood and began pushing other patrons out of the way. They were desperately trying to spot which ones had guns and which one were just trying to grab their belongings and dive for cover. AJ hadn’t bothered reaching for his gun. He lunged at the man who had hurt his daughter. Someone was trying to pull him off and he felt a bullet whiz past his ear. He took a solid punch to the gut and doubled over momentarily, but that didn’t stop him. Lunging forward he caught someone reeking of cigarettes and whiskey right in the gut propelling them forward into someone else who was cursing in what AJ assumed to be Hungarian. He heard Francesca scream and managed to look up. Two men, dressed as kitchen help, with guns in their fists were approaching her. Two shots rang out and he saw Webb reach for her. Then in an explosion of wood and glass, bodies and a car were propelled into the room, throwing him to the floor.

Webb swore it all happened in less than ten seconds. One moment, AJ and Vajda were taking each other’s hand; the next Francesca was screaming as two men pointed guns at her. Instinct took over and he whipped his gun from its hiding place and fired two shots. He could see more men running towards them from outside the restaurant. He just caught Mac backhanding an assailant with her handgun. A shot went wild and imbedded in the wall inches from where Francesca cowered. As a little brown Renault and a body crashed though the front window, Webb grabbed her hand and pulled her through the kitchen, hoping to find a spot to leave her so he could return to the fray. Two men ran, guns drawn, straight for them. He shot wildly and pushed her down a corridor. They fell through a door and found themselves in the alley. Francesca scrambled to her feet and the next thing he knew she was pummeling him with her fists.

"Hey! Knock it off. I’m on your side." He grabbed her hands and nearly dropped his gun.

Cursing in Italian she kicked out at him. {{Bastard. You’re with him. You’re part of all that. You’re helping him.}}

"Sweetheart, I don’t understand a word of Italian beyond Bastard. But I’m a friend of your fath…" His explanation was cut off by another round of bullets cutting through the metal door behind them. Propelling her across the alley, into a doorway, he covered her with his body before twisting around and driving the gunmen back into the restaurant kitchen with several well-placed rounds. "Come on. We can’t stay here. He must have invited everyone to the damn party."

"You’re American!" she hissed.

"Yeah. Come on, now." He pulled her down another alley that emptied into the main one. He heard a car roaring down the street and since he knew it couldn’t be a friend, it had to be one of Vajda’s men. Fat raindrops began to strike them as thunder joined the cacophony of noise echoing off the buildings.

He ran dragging Francesca behind him, trying every door he came upon. He had just found one unlocked when a chunk of brick exploded near his face. He felt a sting and a gush of warmth track down his cheek. Pushing the door open he dragged Francesca through and slammed it shut. Panting from the exertion, he took a moment to scan their refuge. "Shit!" With the exception of two large trucks and a row of boxes there was nowhere for them to hide. Pushing away from the door he breathed a quick prayer of thanks and lifted the heavy two by four onto the supports across the door. "It won’t hold them long. We’re going to have to find another way out.

"There!" she pointed to an opening all the way across the vast room. "You’re bleeding."

"I’ll live."

"Mr. Verwat?"

"Webb."

"What?"

"Clayton Webb. Come on."

They managed to cross loading dock floor before they heard men trying to open the door.

{{They’re in here! I saw them go in here.}}

"That’s Ernö. Nothing will stop him. He’s very bad," Francesca whimpered.

Webb quickly checked his clip, felt his pocket for the spare and spat out. "He’s not superman, Fran, but I don’t want to take the chance. We’ll get out of here, I promise you." The opening turned out to be a stairwell leading up. "Oh, for God sakes. I don’t want to get trapped in here." Wood splintered and shouts echoed through the building. "Damn it. Go," he hissed.

They didn’t try to be quiet as they clamored up the stairs. There really wasn’t any need.

{{That way! There is only one way out; they have to go up.}}

"What did they say?" Webb panted as they made the first landing. He opened the door there and found a vast room full of giant sewing machines. He hesitated for a moment then left the door ajar and continued onto the next floor.

"They’ve got us where they want us." Francesca panted, sweat pouring down her face. "I feel sick."

"Did he drug you?" Webb demanded dragging her up the next flight.

"No."

"Did he hurt you?" They reached the third floor and he pushed her through the door.

"Yes," she hissed.

"I’ll kill him."

"My papa will kill him," Francesca asserted. "Now where?"

The third floor was filled with corridors with doors opening on both sides. "There has to be a fire escape or something. But where are all the people?" Webb once again began trying every closed door.

"St. Stephens Day," she panted. "Hurry! They are coming up."

"In here," he whispered. "Hide."

"Where are you going?" she hissed when he started to close the door.

"I’ll be right back."

"No." He could see hysteria begin to form in her eyes.

"Francesca. Please. It’s the only way. I have to make sure that they look elsewhere. Just stay here until it’s safe."

"They are going to kill you and then me."

"No they won’t. Now go hide behind those boxes." He shoved her into the long narrow storage room and pointed out the door to the back. "Hopefully I will get you from that side. Go and see if it’s open." He quickly made his way down the hallway, ignoring the pictures of smiling babies clutching brightly colored blankets, opening doors and breathing sighs of relief with each discovery. It would take them a very long time to search each cluttered room up here. There had to be twenty or more rooms filled with junk that would have to be pushed and pulled out of the way. He came to the end of the corridor and turned left. Bathrooms were down here and the corridor turned again, leading back the direction he had come. Carefully, he counted rooms leading back to Francesca’s hiding place. The inside wall held several doors and Webb recognized the rooms as he opened and closed each door. The outside wall had only one door halfway down. [[What the hell? This might just work.]] He heard the men pounding up the last flight of stairs. He opened what he hoped was the right door. "Fran?"

When she didn’t answer him. He started to panic. "Francesca. Please. It’s me. I found a better place." He heard her whimper and went to the corner where she was crouched, unable to move in her fear. "Come on, sweetheart. We have to move. He had just closed the door when he heard the other door open.

{{Tear it apart.}}

Quickly he led her to the lone door and pushed hard against it. It opened just enough for them to squeeze through. There were huge boxes stacked from floor to ceiling and something must have shifted because one whole wall had tumbled over, creating a haphazard and probably dangerous labyrinth. Carefully he pulled her further back into the room, praying that he wouldn’t bring the entire house of cardboard down on them. "What does that say?" He pointed to the printing on one of the boxes.

"Materiale di riempimento della fibra del poliestere?" Francesca thought for a moment but jumped and almost cried out when the retort of a machine gun could be heard just across the hall. He led her deeper into the room and was surprised at how far back it went. As they moved away from the door the sounds from outside became more and more muffled until other sounds replaced them. They came to a brick and glass block wall. Several clear windows, some of them broken, showed the buildings across the street. They could hear the scream of police and emergency vehicles rent the air. The sky above the skyline was gray and lightning played across the clouds.

"AJ will find us, Fran," he whispered in her ear. "Come here." They inched their way to the far corner and he breathed a silent prayer. "Uscita di sicurezza. Emeregency exit, right? But that’s Italian isn’t it? Not Hungarian."

"No." Her lips were so close to his ear her breath warmed his skin. "This is an Italian firm. Comoditŕ Del Bambino. It is a company that makes baby blankets and how do you say…" She fluttered her hands, but he pulled her down when they heard men pounding and shouting at the door to the room. As they crouched together she whispered, "These boxes contain the filling they use in the blankets, I think the English word is polyester."

{{Find them! They have to be in here!}} They heard the muffled cursing. {{Vajda wants her. I want him, the fucker!}}

Pulling her down into the corner he tried to shield her from the noise of the machine gun trying to rip through the hundreds of boxes. "I hope that this place has fire sprinklers. This stuff is flammable." He cursed himself as a new worry crossed her face.

::  ::  ::

Mac pushed a woman behind an overturned table. "Stay there." She saw AJ swing and send Vajda flying then she took careful aim but another civilian decided to run out of the restaurant ruining her shot. Police lights cut through the murky afternoon and officers were screaming. Vajda grabbed a woman and, using her as a shield, backed out of the dining room through the swing doors. Mac didn’t even stop to think. She took off after him, ignoring Rabb’s roar, "MAC!"

AJ cursed, looked around and found the gun that had been pulled out of his pants pocket. It wasn’t big, but it would do. He heard Rabb’s frightened call and just caught the doors swinging closed. He tripped his way over several bodies and reached the kitchen just ahead of Rabb. Together they looked around. Praying that the shots they heard were leading them in the right direction, they headed toward the back of the restaurant. They found her, clutching a crying woman, crouched behind a dumpster. Several men were firing guns and they ducked down with her. "Colonel?" AJ demanded.

"They’re heading for that building, sir. There must be ten or more." She stroked the hair of the sobbing woman. "There. Hush now. You’re fine and safe."

AJ peered around the dumpster and saw several cars pull up to a loading dock up the alleyway. They tumbled from the cars and were wildly firing in every direction, covering each other as they entered the three-story building. AJ and Rabb got off several shots, but they succeeded in only wounding two of the men. "Christ, where the hell is Webb?"

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. "Chegwidden." Mac and Harm watched the emotions track across his face, relief, anger, and finally fear as he answered, "Shit! Let me guess, Comoditŕ Del Bambino…Because Webb, it’s on the side of the god damn building. Oh, hell, here come the police. I hope I can…what, wait…Mac, remember this number."

::  ::  ::

Webb pushed the cell phone back in his coat pocket. They could hear men pushing against the door.

{{They have to be in here.}}

{{Vajda’s here. He’s downstairs. He wants to know what’s going on!}}

Francesca began to tremble but she translated for Webb. He brushed the hair out of her face and cupped her chin before bringing his lips to her ear. "The cops are outside. Hear them?" More claxons and sirens grew closer still and shouts drifted up between the thunderclaps that seemed to shake the windows. "Come on. Lets see if we can find a safe little cubbyhole where we can wait it out. I don’t want to use the fire escape if we don’t have to. With our luck we’ll get killed by…" He groaned as she stiffened at the thought of being killed by the very people who were supposed to be rescuing them. "Shit, I’m getting as bad as Rabb. Sorry." He tugged her back into the forest of boxes. The men who had been pushing into the room had stopped, obviously waiting for their leader to arrive.

Clay and Francesca crawled between two tumbled boxes, around another one, and found a cavern of brown. Like a precarious joined arch, the crush of boxes held each other in place. One of the boxes had burst open and white poly fill cascaded from it like a waterfall. Webb nodded and whispered in her ear. "This should do."

"What if it falls down on us?"

He knew she was on her last nerve and the least little thing would set her off. "Come on, Fran, how much can one of these things weigh?" He tugged at her until she joined him on the pile of white. "Just like a nice feather bed…uhm…I mean…I’m…sorry…I didn’t."

She looked at him in the dim light. High above, what little daylight was left filtered down through several arched skylights. She could see he was embarrassed and that finalized her comfort level. "Who are you?"

"I told you, a friend of your father. Clayton Webb."

"Are you in the Navy, Clayton Webb?"

He grimaced and muttered, "Seems like, sometimes."

"Did my papa send you to spy on me?"

"No," he hissed. Just then they heard someone shouting through a bullhorn.

{{János Vajda. Come out. We know you are in there.}} Automatic rifle fire was the only answer. In their little haven it sounded very far away, but still Francesca gasped and threw herself into his arms. He held her tight, whispering soothing words, almost dazed that he was holding her. "It’s far away. It can’t hurt you." He could feel her tears running down his neck. Her hands fisted the material of his suit coat. Ineffectually, he patted her back.

Finally, she looked up at him, the tears shining in the fading light. "Did you know that Vajda was a bad man?"

Shame and regret colored his face. Pulling her hands from his neck he placed them in her lap and moved away from her. "Yes."

"You knew that day on the train, didn’t you?" She whispered and he remembered the journey from Budapest through the Pyrenees Mountains down the length of Italy. She had been so happy that trip. She was taking her boyfriend to meet her mother and she had greeted him warmly. ‘Of course I remember Mr. Verwat. How are you, sir?’ When she took his hand it seemed like she branded him.

"Yes."

"You almost said something that day, didn’t you?" She remembered they had bumped into each other in the club car. János had told her that he wasn’t feeling well and was going to turn in early. She hadn’t wanted to be alone in her sleeping compartment, so she had walked down for a glass of wine before retiring.

They had talked for a long time. Or rather, she had talked. Every time she asked him a question about his life, he always turned the conversation back to her. When they realized that there were only a few people left in the club car, she had looked at her watch and exclaimed. {{Oh dear! 2:00 a.m.}} "Your pardon, Mr. Verwat, but it is very late."

"In the corridor," she murmured. "You almost said something in the corridor. I couldn’t understand the look on your face when Vajda opened the door to his cabin." She touched his hand and when he tried to jerk it away she held it tight, tugging until he turned to her. "I thought it was such a strange expression. You should have been embarrassed at being seen with me outside my door at such a late hour, but you seemed almost angry. After you left to go to your car, he told me I had made another conquest."

"Vajda is a murderous bastard, Francesca. I am very good at my job. I should have killed him then."

"Why didn’t you?" she asked as another round of fire shattered some of the glass nearby. Since no one was in the room with them, there was no answering fire and Webb began to worry that they had as much to fear from their so-called friends as the men outside in the corridor.

"I needed more information. He is getting money and guns to Al-Qaeda and Saddam. Still, I should have told you."

"Did you get what you needed?"

"Some of it."

"But not all?" She sighed and dropped her hand.

Before Webb could say anything else they heard the door open. "What the fuck!" Vajda snapped in English. "What the hell is this shit?" There was a muttering that Webb couldn’t make out then, "Well get it out of here." More muttering. "Well find a way! If you can’t get it out through this door they didn’t get it in through this door. Find the other damn door, you shitfaces." Then in a calmer voice he called out in Italian. {{Chesca? Darling Chesca, I know you are in there. Tell me Chesca, how did you convince poor stupid Mr. Verwat to help you? It will do no good. I will make you watch as I kill him. I will rip him apart, after we all have our pleasure with him. Then I will do the same to you.}} He switched to Dutch. {{She’s nothing but a whore, Verwat. Bring her to me and I will let you go. Stay with her and I will kill you and your family back in Amsterdam.}}

Webb shook his head at Francesca and held his finger to his lips. She nodded but he could see that whatever Vajda said had been very ugly. Closing the gap between them, he put his arm around her shoulder and held her head to his chest.

{{Chesca! You bitch! Your father is dead. I killed him and his stupid friends! When I find out how he got help so fast, I will make sure they pay too.}}

Several thunderclaps exploded overhead and suddenly the rain began to batter the glass. The wind kicked up and Vajda’s words were finally drowned out after one last roar, {{You will be so sorry you crossed me, Chesca!}} The door slammed and they heard his muffled yelling.

Francesca started sobbing uncontrollably. Webb was afraid if Vajda returned he would find them just by following her audible cries. He pushed her until she was lying against the soft fill. Bring his face close hers he demanded. "What did he say?"

"He said he killed my papa and his friends."

"You heard me talking to your father." He sighed. "Stop it now, if you keep it up, he will find us."

She sniffled to a stop. The room was growing darker and he could barely make out her features. Still, he found himself drawn to her. He knew it was wrong. He started to push away but she clutched at his arms. "Please, Clayton. Hold me. I’m so scared."

[[Oh, this is a very bad idea.]] But he found he couldn’t deny her the comfort. Sitting back up, he pulled his jacket off, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs. He lay down next to her and put his arm under her. She did the rest and snuggled into his embrace. [[Yep, about the worst idea you’ve ever had.]] His arms tightened around her and he couldn’t help it – he kissed her softly on the top of her head. "Don’t be scared."

::  ::  ::

AJ paced back and forth, and considering how tiny the van was, it was really an accomplishment. Mac sat crossed-legged on top of a large piece of equipment. Harm sat in one of the command chairs staring at the screen. Jenkins, his arm in a sling, sat in another chair, talking with great animation to the worried looking woman who had joined them after AJ’s phone call. He was talking to the embassy’s attaché, but he kept glancing in awe at the woman AJ was studiously ignoring. He owed Meredith Cavanaugh his life. [[Hell, we all just might.]] Evidently, she had seen the terrorist about to kill him and had thrown the SUV into gear and gunned it across two lanes of traffic into the parked car directly in front of the restaurant. A large cement flowerpot had protected Jenkins but the terrorist was not so lucky – neither was the front of the restaurant. Fortunately, no one but the terrorist had been killed, though several patrons had minor injuries.

The crash had served a second purpose. Several of the terrorists had fled, including Vajda. Several others had been captured but Chegwidden wasn’t appeased. Now they had the troops they needed to storm the factory. They also had the Hungarian government wanting to know what the hell was going on; the American government, in the person of Holly Threadwell, wanted to know too. Jenkins had called in every favor he could think of and twisted every arm that he could. NSA and the Agency were coordinating satellites. That coordination was the only thing keeping the Hungarian National Security Forces from just lobbing every weapon they could in to the building. AJ’s "That’s my DAUGHTER in there, damn it!" had probably been heard in the Royal Palace.

"And the Deputy Director." Jenkins had reminded him and Threadwell.

AJ had allowed Jenkins to do all the lying and he had to admit that he did a credible job of mixing fact with fantasy. "Holly, I swear it was all a comedy of errors."

"Comedy? You think this is funny, Jenks?" Threadwell wasn’t buying any of it, but she listened carefully. This would form the basis of the report she fed to the Ambassador and the Prime Minister when she got back.

"Holly, please. Admiral Chegwidden got a call from his daughter to come and meet her fiancée. He had no idea who he was. From what we know, his daughter had no idea either. Neither of them knew Mr. Webb was running an operation here."

"Why was a deputy director…"

Jenkins didn’t let her finish. "He speaks Dutch. The bank is Dutch. Believe or not, we don’t have anyone in place who could have done it besides the Deputy Director."

"We’re picking up something!" Rabb announced and everyone but Mac and Meredith crowded around it. Mac could see the monitor easily from her perch. Meredith was dealing with her growing anger at AJ’s anger.

After the dust had settled and the police arrived, Meredith had got out of the SUV and walked over to check on Jenkins. "Oh. Your arm, Mr. …"

"Hey, beautiful, I’m alive," the young man quickly interrupted her as he struggled to his feet. "Fuckin’ fabulous driving, Bashful. Want a job?"

She blushed, shook her head and carefully stepped over the wreckage. Several people lay injured. Several more, near the back of the restaurant lay dead.

"What the…Meredith!" His yell had drawn everyone’s attention to her. She turned to hurry back outside, but he caught up to her and spun her around. "Have you got it out of your system now? Will you go back to the hotel and just wait?" She bit her lip but didn’t cry like she wanted to. She wanted to hold him and make sure he was all right. But something inside her snapped and she jerked her arm free.

"I’m fine," she practically snarled. " I just saved a man’s life and from what I saw, maybe yours too. I don’t know. But you have no right to speak to me like that, AJ Chegwidden." She had meant to leave. She had meant to go straight to the airport. But then she remembered. She had never meant to leave the United States. A panicked look covered her face. AJ and Jenkins, who was already talking with the first policemen on the scene, saw it.

Both rushed to her side. But it was AJ who demanded. "What’s wrong?"

She looked around her, saw the fear in AJ’s eyes, the concern in Jenkin’s and suddenly burst out laughing. "How am I going to get home? I have no passport."

That had been two hours ago. Jenkins had held the locals at bay but General Kultsár of the National Security Police hadn’t been put off. By that time, a truck with surveillance equipment had shown up and a plan was put in place.

"Wow! Look at those heat signatures." Rabb was like a little kid with a new toy. "Jeez, look! There are three, five…damn there are seven guys on the first floor, look at them moving around that dark stuff."

Jenkins supplied, "The dark stuff looks like maybe trucks, see the pools of bright green? That’s some kind of cold liquid, probably gasoline."

"There are only four people on the second floor. But, wow, what did he do, bring an army?" Rabb whispered in as they counted twelve people on the top floor, many of them huddled in one spot about thirty feet from two other, prone figures. "There. That has to be them. Everyone else is standing, moving around. You don’t think they’re dead do you?" Rabb was so involved, he completely forgot for a moment about whom he was talking. Suddenly he grew very quiet and bent closer over the screen.

Mac just sighed. [[You’ve got the knack, lover. Honest to god, when you die and go to heaven you are going to figure out a way to piss off St. Peter.]]

"No. Look! One of them is moving. What’s it doing? Huh? What the…Oh hell, we’re losing the signal."

Mac was extremely glad that they had. The blush on AJ’s face seemed almost purple in the bright green light. [[Oh, my. Webb, your chances of getting out of this in one piece just plummeted.]]

::  ::  ::

The storm was raging and they could barely hear János’ taunts. But they could hear the bulky but light boxes being moved. Webb closed his eyes did a quick calculation. The door was halfway down a corridor at least one hundred feet long. They were a good twenty feet away from that door, and the men were moving boxes and from the sound of it, other heavy items from the far end of the room. [[We have a little time. But damn it, attack already.]]

Francesca was scared. But not as scared as she had been last night. Not as scared as she had been in the restaurant when she thought her papa was going to die. The man underneath her holding her tightly made her feel almost safe. Though she really doubted that she would ever feel completely safe again. She thought about the six months with Vajda and she began to pick out little incidents that should have warned her. There had been looks between János and Ernö that should have tipped her off to their true relationship. She groaned and instantly Webb whispered. "What’s wrong?" Shame at her stupidity was almost overpowering and she struggled to sit up. Webb just held her more tightly. "Fran?"

Her eyes met his. Dark green pools of understanding invited her to drown in them. She closed her eyes and a tear dropped on his cheek. His hiss of pain opened her eyes again and she finally focused on the gash in his cheek. "Dio Dell." She sat up and started patting her pockets.

"What?" He sat up next to her. "Francesca, what’s wrong? Tell me."

"Your cheek. You’re bleeding." She muttered and she started to pull rip the hem of her dress.

"Whoa. Sweetheart. Wait. Look." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. "Mother always insisted." He grinned.

She started to gently dab at the drying blood. "Tell me about your mother. Your parents are still with you?"

He watched her as she carefully cleaned the wound. It hurt and he suspected that a chip or two of brick was embedded in his skin. "My father died when I was a little boy. My mother raised me on her own. She was really great. She would like you."

She blushed and couldn’t meet his eye. She felt a warmth spread through her and wondered what might have happened had she met this very nice man who did such dangerous things before she had met János. She found that she really wished that would have happened.

[[Back off, Webb.]] He imaged what Chegwidden would do to him if he so much as suspected that Webb lusted after his daughter and had for two months. He mentally kicked himself for not pulling Francesca off that train, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to DC. He could have dumped her in AJ’s lap, tersely told the former SEAL who and what János Vajda was and been done with it. [[Noooooo. You had to do your damn job to the fucking hilt, you pathetic bastard.]]

Her hand on his cheek interrupted his self-flagellation. "You were doing what you had too."

"NO." He jerked away, red heat suffusing his cheeks. "No," he whispered. "I could have found a better way. A safer way."

"It’s my own fault. My momma told me she didn’t like him. That something was wrong. What would you have done, Clayton? Told me the truth? Kidnapped me and dumped me on poor papa’s lap?"

"Should have." He muttered before lying back down and closing his eyes. "Come on AJ. Get here." He felt her cover his body with hers and his eyes snapped open to find her staring down into his. "Francesca?"

"I am a grown woman, Clayton Webb. I have made many mistakes in my life."

He was breathing very hard. The weight of her body was doing very embarrassing things to his. "None as stupid as the one you’re about to make." He gasped. [[Rifle fire would be good right now.]]

"Is it?" She lowered her lips to his and brushed his mouth gently with her tongue.

With the last ounce of moral strength he had left, he took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her off him, lowering her to the soft matting. He was just about to pull away from her when the first explosion rocked the building.

"Clayton?" she screamed, forgetting entirely the danger from János. She clutched at him and started to scream again. Webb did the only thing he could think of to silence her. He covered her mouth with his, wrapping her body in his arms. Her terror turned her into a wildcat and he felt her tugging at his clothes. Months of worrying about her, wanting her, fearing for her life these past 24 hours, combined with the very real possibility that they wouldn’t leave here alive destroyed the last shred of his control. He returned her passion kiss for kiss, touch for touch. He stroked the skin of her arm and groaned when she bit his shoulder blade. Within moments she had his shirt unbuttoned and his tee shirt pulled up, exposing his chest. Her lips played across his pecs and down his stomach.

"Fran. Baby, please stop," he begged. Another explosion was followed by men shouting and lights slashing through the windows, sending shadows dancing across their sanctuary. Images of helicopters flashed across his mind and instinct and need propelled him forward, flipping her on her back covering her with his body. Her small hand worked frantically at the zipper of his pants and he threw back his head in ecstasy as she reached his cock, already hard, already leaking precum. She pushed back enough to spread her legs.

"Please Clayton. Please I need to feel something warm and alive and loving. Please." He plunged home, feeling her moist heat barely lubricating her tight passage. He opened his eyes in shock when he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties. She saw the surprise on his face and turned her head in shame. Tears welled up in her eyes and she started to explain that the thought of wearing what Ernö had touched had made her sick to her stomach.

Webb took her face in both his hands and kissed each eye. "Nothing else matters. Nothing he did matters. Never think of him again, Francesca."

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him tightly. "Please make love to me, Clayton."

He kissed and nibbled at her neck. He gently caressed her breasts through the light material of her dress. Slowly he began to move in her, rotating his hips, trying hard to pleasure her. She held him so tightly, almost desperately, that he couldn’t fit his hand between them. He watched her face, descending for deep wet kisses, looking for signs of discomfort or even the awareness that what they were doing was about as wrong as anything either of them had ever done. But all he saw was intense passion. Passion for him. Passion for what they were doing and as he felt his balls tighten for their release he heard a deep satisfied purr erupt up from her throat escaping as a long drawn out "Claaaaaaaaay."

He collapsed on top of her holding off as much of his weight as he could. Both of them were panting and sweating. Francesca was arching up kissing and licking sweat from his collar. He groaned and fell from her, pulling her back to his chest. The shouting was getting closer as was the automatic weapons’ fire. "This is probably not the best way for us to be found." He looked down his nose at her. "You, of course, are beautiful. And you’re still dressed. He combed his fingers through her hair. "I on the other hand look like…" He bit his tongue. [[Don’t say well-fucked out loud, dumb ass.]] "I look a mess."

"You look beautiful." She kissed his chest before sitting up. "But you should get dressed. I hope you did not loose too many buttons."

He had, but he managed. He used some of the polyester to clean himself, as did Francesca. He had just tucked his shirt in, zipped up his pants and was working on his vest buttons, hoping that it and his tie, which had somehow stayed around his neck, would hide any obvious gabs. He had just reached for his jacket when the boxes above them began to sway. The strobing lights overhead had already alerted them to the helicopters overhead, so neither had paid much attention to the loud thumping. He pushed her toward the far wall as the glass windows above and to the east shattered. Rain began to pour in and Webb could see men repelling down. They held each other tight, both sure that they would die by friendly fire.

"Herr Webb? Frauline Chegwidden? I am Major Pusztay of the Hungarian Security Forces. Show yourself, Herr Webb."

Webb wouldn’t have moved but he heard a familiar voice call out. "Webb! It’s me, Rabb. You up here?"

"Harmon?" Francesca whispered in his ear.

"Sweetheart, didn’t you see him in the restaurant?"

"That was really him? And Sarah? I thought I was dreaming." She stood up. "We’re right here, Harmon! Is Papa all right? He isn’t hurt?"

They pushed their way out from the forest of boxes. Gunfire was still going off but it seemed far away. They found the soldiers having as little luck as the terrorists had pushing the boxes out of the way. But they did find them. Francesca hugged Rabb before returning to Webb to wrap her arm around his waist. Webb blushed and Rabb’s eyes grew wide. "Oh, man, I don’t want to be anywhere near…" He accepted Webb’s hand and shook it. "You are one brave son-of-a-bitch, Webb."

"Can we get out of here? I know AJ wants to see her."

Rabb held up a walkie-talkie and pushed a button, a wide grin on his face. "Come in Prince Charming, this is…" he glared at Webb, "…Dopey, we have Snow White and the Huntsman."

"Is she okay?" Chegwidden’s voice sounded afraid even through the lousy reception.

Rabb held the button and put the radio to Francesca’s mouth. "I’m fine Papa. Cla…" she smiled happily, "The Huntsman kept me very safe."

Webb could have sworn he heard AJ mutter, "Oh, did he?" before Rabb broke the connection with a knowing grin.

"Come on. Let’s do this," Clay snarled. They made their way slowly through the tumbled boxes. They came out against the wall and had to back track to the door. Major Pusztay was talking rapidly on the radio.

Webb looked over Francesca’s head to Rabb. "Mac okay?"

"Oh, yeah. She’s down there helping Jenkins answer questions. No one is bothering the Admiral."

"Dr. Cavanaugh?"

Rabb sighed. "I don’t know Webb. He’s really pissed off at her."

Webb groaned. "Why? What did she do?"

"Pretty much saved the day by running the SUV into the front of the restaurant. The Admiral doesn’t see that way though."

"Shit. I’m a dead man."

"Oh, yeah."

"Clayton?" Francesca took his hand.

He squeezed it and smiled ruefully. "Uh…Fran…you know how I said I was a friend of your father’s."

"Si?" Her eyes clouded over, fear that he had lied to her too was clearly evident.

"Well, I was before today. At least I thought I was a little. But I don’t think he will forgive me for what happened today."

A sigh of relief seemed to relax her body. "We will deal with that. Don’t worry, Il mio caro, I won’t let him hurt you."

Rabb nearly choked, but any retort was cut off as the shouts of men grew closer. Webb instinctively grabbed Francesca and pushed her to the ground, covering her with his body. Bullets tore through the walls of the room. Rabb was crouching next to them, but the force of the bullets striking his riot gear threw Major Pusztay back. Webb didn’t wait, but picked up the Major’s AK-47 and stood ready. "Stay down, Francesca." His voice was hard, and she didn’t think to argue. He looked at Rabb and the other soldiers behind him. Together, they fired their weapons through the wall, sending splitters and pieces of wallboard flying everywhere.

One soldier spoke into the mike at his shoulder and called out. "They’ve reached the second floor. We are to give them cover for five more minutes."

By the time five minutes were over, Webb had used two clips of ammunition and the wall was no longer standing. Water gushed down on them and he looked up at the sprinkler system. "Shit. There’s a fire somewhere."

Again the soldier spoke into his mike. "It’s under control." Webb and Rabb stepped across the remains of the wall. A dozen men lay on the floor dead or dying. Rifles were picked up, and pulse points checked. Rabb jerked up at the sound of a single shot and growled low in his throat when he saw a soldier replacing his pistol in his holster. Webb, remembering the pain in Francesca’s eyes, said nothing.

They checked each body. Webb looked intently at each face. Most of them were bloody but he could tell none of them were Vajda. He did find Ernö; his dead eyes seemed to bore into Webb’s. He let out a frustrated breath and turned around to say something to Rabb. Francesca was where he left her, cradling the injured major. A soldier was standing over her, scanning the area in front of them. Webb caught the almost imperceptible movement within the remains of the boxes. Another solider stepped inside his line of sight and by the time he moved it was almost too late.

"Francesca! Join me in hell!" Vajda screamed as he exploded out from underneath several of the boxes that had been their sanctuary all afternoon. Everyone froze in horror as the terrorist raised his gun. Webb placed three shots right between his eyes blowing the back of his head off, sending him backwards, his automatic rifle tearing up more of the ceiling sending a shower of water down on everyone.

::  ::  ::

AJ, covered in riot gear, moved in a crouch behind two of the Security Forces’ assault teams. The noise was deafening, and all he could think as they carefully made their way past the destruction and dead bodies was [[Webb, she'd better be all right. I don’t care about anything else beyond that. You are a dead man, you bastard.]] He hadn’t needed Rabb’s comments to fully understand the movements of the two prone figures on the satellite’s output. He didn’t even care that it was obvious that it was the smaller of the two bodies doing most of the movements. [[He should have stopped her. Maybe she was just…]]

{{Watch out!}} Someone yelled. He didn’t need to understand the words. He was too experienced at this kind of thing to need a translator. The three men ducked as an explosion sent debris spewing down the stairwell. Before the heavier particles had even settled they were back running up the stairs to the second floor. Here the destruction wasn’t as bad. Two soldiers were training guns on one battered looking man. AJ spared them no more than a glance before continuing up to the third floor.

"Son-of-bitch." He breathed as he saw the destruction. He didn’t even notice the rain and sprinkler water. [[How much wetter can you be beyond soaked to the skin? ]] It appeared that snow was mixed in with the rain. He didn’t understand that at all, but he didn’t care. It was mostly quiet up here; too quiet. One of the soldiers spoke into the radio. AJ saw the nod and the relieved look. He didn’t wait for the all-clear signal. "Francesca!" he bellowed.

"Papa?"

"Over here, Admiral." Rabb’s voice overlapped Francesca’s cry.

He pushed past the soldiers. There were dozens up here. Many of them were pulling dead bodies down the corridor. They stepped aside to let him through. He flung off his protective helmet and rounded a corridor. The snow was getting thicker. "Rabb!"

"Here, sir!" Rabb stepped out of the snow and AJ finally caught some in his hand.

"What the hell?"

"Stuffing sir. Evidently the last thing one of the terrorists did was pull the pin on a hand grenade right before they killed him. The room Webb and Francesca were hiding in was full of the stuff."

"Where is she?" AJ roughly demanded.

"Here, Papa." She stepped around Rabb, stood still for just a moment then flung herself into AJ’s embrace.

"Oh, baby." He held her, stroking her wet hair, pushing it out of her face. When she lifted her face to his he could see her eyes were bright with tears, but she wasn’t crying. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Papa. Clayton made sure I was safe. He protected me. Papa, he saved my life," she finished with an emphatic whisper. Harm had hugged her earlier and she had seen the angry look the sailor gave Webb. She had heard the not very cryptic, ‘He’s going to break more than just your nose this time, Webb. Those satellite heat signatures are really detailed.’ The red that suffused Webb’s face was so bright that she couldn’t really tell where the bloody gash was. The rain and sprinkler had washed away not only the blood that had dripped on her face while they made love, but the blood that splattered her and the Hungarian Major when Vajda’s face exploded. She suspected that she would have a very nice case of hysterics once the shock wore off, but now she had to make sure that her father didn’t hurt Webb and more importantly, that Clayton didn’t run away in shame for what they had done, even if the whole world had seen them do it. She wasn’t sure exactly how the spy felt about her, she wasn’t really sure how she felt about him, but she wanted very much to explore it further.

"Hello, AJ. Took you long enough." Webb stepped over a body and boldly walked up to Francesca and her father. AJ thought he was going to put his arm around Francesca, but instead he just stood to one side, practically offering his body for AJ’s punishment. "I hear you had a satellite to help pinpoint where we were."

The only sound was the rain falling and an occasional shout from one of the men. Two men came bounding up, with a stretcher and as AJ and Rabb stepped aside, Webb said, "Francesca, you feel up to taking them back to Major Pusztay? I think he wants to thank you."

Francesca looked from Webb to her father. She sighed, stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed her father on the cheek. {{Don’t you dare hurt him, Papa. And don’t scare him away.}}

AJ never moved his glare from Webb as his daughter walked back into the settling white fiber. When they could not longer see her, he said. "Commander, I believe they can finish this up without your help. Mr. Jenkins said he has cleared it for Mac and Meredith to return to the hotel. Evidently, Mr. Webb had this thought out a little better than he let on. There are rooms available. I would appreciate it if you would escort them back to the hotel. Now."

Rabb spared a brief glance of pity for Webb. "Aye-aye, sir." He hurried down the hallway.

AJ took a step closer to Webb, almost invading the spy’s personal space. "What happened in there, Webb?"

"We hid, AJ. I don’t know what you think you saw on the satellite feed, but we hid under a tumbled stack of boxes. I held her when she cried. You want to know anything else?"

AJ glared at him but then took a deep breath. He pulled off the flak suit and tossed it behind him. "You saved her life, Webb. You should have told me sooner who she was dating though."

"You’re right."

"What do you feel about her, Webb? Anything? Can you feel anything for anyone that isn’t tied up in your job?"

Webb wanted to laugh hysterically. He really wanted AJ to beat him senseless. Or maybe just shoot him. The minefield stretching before him was more perilous than any mission he had ever attempted. He was spared the need to answer – for the moment - by Francesca’s return. Instead of going to her father or Webb she reached out her hands to both men. "Can we leave now?"

AJ took the lead and led them back down through the carnage. He heard her gasped shock and squeezed her hand, but it was Webb who whispered, "Easy Fran. We’ve got you."

They reached the bottom floor to find most of the bodies were covered and scores of military men were milling around waiting for the all-clear signal. "Hey!" They heard Jenkins call out. The look on his face wasn’t promising. He ran up to them, spared a quick glance for AJ and started to tug Webb off to one side, but Francesca wouldn’t let go of his hand.

"What have you got Jenks? Everything all cleaned up?" Webb demanded.

Jenkins licked his lips. "Uhm…"

"Oh, for God sake. He’s earned the right and neither one of us is letting her out of our sight for right now." Webb ground out.

"Webb. They lost her." Jenkins finally said.

"Lost who?" For a moment Webb looked thoroughly confusion then anger suffused his face and before Francesca or AJ knew it, Webb had the other agent by the collar of his coat. "Lost. Who?"

Jenkins didn’t try to pull away. "Magda."

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Webb seemed to shrivel for a moment.

AJ went back into full command mode and quickly scanned the building looking for danger. "God damn it. Will she never learn?"

Jenkins turned then grimaced tiredly. "The Commander tried to get her to go back to the hotel with him and the Colonel but she wouldn’t. She’s a gutsy lady, Admiral. She saved my life. She did a good job." Jenkins insisted. "She was really worried…"

AJ walked away from him, his long strides carrying him closer until she too started walking toward him not paying much attention to the debris on the ground. She was within a foot of him when she tripped over a long lug wrench. He caught her before she fell and pulled her back up into his arm. "You’re going to make an awfully clumsy agent, Dr. Cavanaugh," he said right before he kissed her hard. She tightened her arms around his neck and returned the kiss.

When they separated she looked over his shoulder. "Is she okay?"

"For now. But we have more trouble. Just stay by my side. Please, Meredith. Don’t argue anymore."

::  ::  ::

Mac, one towel wrapped around her body, another wrapped around her hair, stood at the window staring down at the Danube. Lights turned the ancient bridges and buildings into a fairytale. [[Where the hell is my prince?]] She snorted at the mental picture. She loved him. It hadn’t been an easy journey but Harmon Rabb was whom she wanted and it looked like he had finally realized that he wanted her too. "Where are you?" she sighed to her reflection.

The hotel was modern and so new that the kitchen was still experiencing sporadic difficulties. "Go on, Jarhead. I know how you get when you’re hungry. Maybe Budapest has a MacDonalds or something healthy like that." He had sneered playfully, but gallantly offered to go in search of something edible. Tossing the hair towel in the corner, she let the other fall to the floor so she could pull on her tee shirt. The key card clicked in the lock and he pushed the door open.

"Oh, wow!" He breathed, as the moonlight seemed to illuminate her body. They both heard the laughter coming toward their room. Quickly he stepped inside and shut the door. "I didn’t know Webb had reserved us the same room."

She swallowed. The sight of him like this, out of uniform, out of the office, still did funny things to her stomach. "I guess he figured, why waste the room."

"Yeah. I guess. Oh, God, Mac you are so beautiful."

"Come here," she whispered seductively.

He grinned and shook his head. "Here. It was the best I could do." He held up a bag with strange and yet vaguely familiar markings.

"Oh my God. KFC?"

"Well, I won’t vouch for the actual meat content. They didn’t have anything on the bone. But I figure after Beltway Burgers, mystery meat is mystery meat. You go ahead, I want to wash the smell off. I’ll just be a minute."

She eyed the bag, the grease already staining the sides. Shrugging, she gently pushed open the bathroom door. Steam clouded the room but she pushed back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub.

Immediately he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. When he pulled back to breath, he chuckled. "I was hoping you would join me."

"Is that why you brought back such appetizing food?" She glared at him, trying hard to keep the smile off her face, for just a moment anyway.

He ran his fingers through hair, now wet and plastered to her face again. "I don’t know. But I’m glad you’re here." Their next kiss was long and leisurely, and before long their hands were tracking familiar routes along the other’s body. Rabb held her closer, crushing her breasts against his chest, but he let her slide down his body to kneel before him. Gently, she began to lick his shaft to its full length before engulfing him whole. He groaned and rocked back and forth, slowly making love to her mouth. But, when he was ready to lose control he stepped back from her and sank down in front of her. "I love you, Sarah MacKenzie. I know I haven’t actually said the words before today. I know that it hurt you that I didn’t, but I do."

"Oh, Harm." She wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed again. Somehow he maneuvered them until he was sitting in the tub, the shower cascading down on them. He pulled her to sit in his lap and she sank down on his cock in one plunge. They groaned as their heat combined. When she began to move up and down on him, he held her hips to help her. Slowly, leisurely, they found their pace, gently kissing and playfully nipping whatever bit of skin their mouths touched until Mac arched back grinding her clit against his pubic hair, taking that last bit of stimulation she need to come hard. Her muscles milked him and he shouted out her name as he climaxed.

When they finally struggled out of the tub they dried each other off and stumbled to the bed. Mac barely had a chance to pull down the bedspread before Harm fell on the mattress pulling her down with him. He spooned around her, burying his nose in her still damp hair. "Nap, then I’ll take you out to dinner. Expensive. Webb is paying for this weekend."

They had just drifted off to sleep when Rabb’s cell phone shrilled. Cursing, he got up and staggered over to his pants. "Rabb," he snapped angrily.

Mac watched as all the blood seemed to drain from his face before turned rigid and unyielding it his anger. "I understand. Thank you, Jenkins. Yes, we’ll meet you at the morgue."

::  ::  ::

Clayton Webb’s Town Home
August 24
1300 Hours

"Excerpt from the Washington Post dated Sunday, August 11

"Budapest – Rear Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the United States Navy was injured in an explosion in the Hungarian capital today. The explosion killed his daughter Francesca Paretti and Dutch businessman Denys Verwat. Also injured in the explosion was Dr. Meredith Cavanaugh, Professor of English Literature at Georgetown University.

"Admiral Chegwidden and Cavanaugh were visiting his daughter and her fiancée. It is unclear at this time, but it appears that terrorists attacked the café where Chegwidden and the two women were dining. Cavanaugh was flown back to Washington D.C. while Admiral Chegwidden accompanied his daughter’s body back to Naples for a private burial. As of press time, no organization has taken responsibility for the attack on the restaurant.

"Sources at the scene speculate that the Comoditŕ Del Bambino, a factory just behind the restaurant might have been a blind for one of the many terrorist organizations headquartered in this ancient European city. A spokesman for the Italian baby-accessory company vehemently denied the charge and a State Department spokesman said emphatically that the US has no evidence whatsoever to link the company with any known terrorist organizations.

"On a historical note…"

"Enough, Webb. I read the same story in Il Mattino." AJ ground out. He pushed himself out of the deep sofa in Webb’s front room and glared down at the man who had arranged everything so quickly. Even most of the Hungarian Security Force hadn’t understood how they ‘missed’ the bomb that had gone off fifteen minutes after Meredith had joined them in the factory. He sighed. "That was quick thinking."

"Well you certainly played your part to the hilt." Webb grinned. "We really do work well together, Admiral." The decision to stage Denys Verwat and Francesca Paretti’s deaths had actually come from Meredith. AJ had stared at her in shock wondering briefly what had become of his quiet little Shakespearean scholar. Webb however had jumped on the idea and he and Jenkins had quickly pulled it all together. The ‘bomb’ had been a small gas can turned into a Molotov cocktail. They had waited until most of the security team was occupied elsewhere. Only General Kultsár and his most trusted lieutenants had been in on it.

"Yeah. Well I would watch it the next time you come into JAG Ops, Webb. Mac was damn near hysterical when she thought you two had really died." AJ stood his head at the memory. They weren’t sure if Magda Csapó, Vajda’s wife and political soul mate, had bugged their rooms. They couldn’t take a chance so Jenkins had to play it for real with Rabb who had to tell Mac. AJ had told them at the morgue. A homeless girl who had been found dumped near the river became Francesca. One of the dead terrorists became Verwat/Webb. Mac had turned pale and sagged in relief against Rabb, who had swallowed several times but barely maintained his composure.

AJ had refused to put his ex-wife through that emotional turmoil. Instead, he had boarded a military flight the next day and flew to Naples to explain the circumstances and the plan. Marcella hadn’t been happy. In fact, Marcella nearly ruined it by refusing to play along with the deception at first. But in the end, they held a small private ceremony at the Paretti family’s cemetery and everyone, including Magda Csapó, they hoped, believed that Francesca was buried next to her stepfather. No one really paid much attention to the small funeral for the anonymous banker who was supposedly cremated in Amsterdam later that week.

"Too late. She and Rabb came over last night." Webb rubbed his cheek. "Damn, that woman has a mighty slap."

"She shouldn’t have hit you, tesoro." Francesca came into the room and flopped down on the couch next to Webb. "Papa explained why it was necessary." Webb eyed her resignedly, the pained expression on his face almost priceless. AJ shuddered but smiled at his daughter.

Rabb had taken responsibility for getting Francesca out of Hungary and back to the United States. It had pained AJ to no end, but he had agreed that she couldn’t stay at his house or even Meredith’s.

"Magda isn’t stupid – far from it. She’s probably smarter than Vajda was and she’s a whole lot more in control," Webb had insisted.

Mac had volunteered, but they could come up with no plausible excuse why Francesca would suddenly show up as Mac’s houseguest. In the end, after a long phone call from Clay, Porter Webb quietly announced to a few friends that a young student from Paris was going to stay at the Webb mansion while writing her thesis on American architecture. If any of Porter’s friends thought the young Frenchwoman had a funny accent, no one mentioned it. Of course, most of them were too busy wondering how staid stately Porter Webb was getting along with a girl with very short, very spiky, blue hair.

Yesterday morning when they had finally returned from their unsuccessful search for Magda, they had hurried to Porter Webb’s house. Webb had taken one look at her in his mother’s foyer and shouted. "For God’s sake, Francesca! I know I said change your hair color and cut it, but..."

She giggled. "Well, I did."

AJ smiled wickedly. "Baby, I missed this phase when you were a teenager."

"Oh, Papa. I was very serious as a teenager. I didn’t have fun until I joined the staff at Ciao."

They had dined at Porter’s house and left Francesca there, Webb returning to Alexandria and AJ to Meredith’s arms. Both men had an early morning meeting with DD Forbes of the FBI. AJ had picked Webb up that morning at 0800 hours. When he heard that Francesca would be at Webb’s house, he had parked the car and followed the spy up the steps of this townhouse. Francesca had been alone, coming the down the stairs when Webb opened the door. She had blush and kissed him gently on the cheek and then hugged her father who was concerned that the blue would rub off on his whites.

"Clayton?" Francesca purred and ran her bare foot up his leg, ignoring the not quite silent growl from her father.

"Yes, Francesca?" He sighed; not ignoring a damn thing while AJ was so nearby.

"It is safe here in Washington, no?"

Webb put his arm around the thirty-year old woman who looked like a sixteen year old punk rocker and gently kissed her cheek taking great care to keep from stabbing himself with her hair. "Pretty much. Lord knows, you don’t look at all like the fashion editor from Milan."

She sighed. "But you, with your three piece suits and your neatly combed hair look a little too much like Mr. Verwat."

"Hey, I don’t wear plastic glasses," he sniffed.

She snorted and pulled back to study him. "You know, I saw some jeans in your drawers this afternoon."

"You were in my drawers?" Webb blushed, finally looking away from AJ. He had called her this morning, suggesting that he stop by and have lunch with her. Instead she said she would like to meet him at his townhouse.

"Your mother is having a luncheon for her friends. Your mother is very nice, Clayton, but her friends are very boring," she had explained.

On Webb’s instructions, Harrison, his mother’s butler, had driven Francesca to Alexandria and let her into his townhouse. She had spent the hour waiting, shamelessly exploring. "Of course, tesoro. Do you know? You are neater than even my Papa."

"It’s who I am, Francesca," Webb said warily.

"Si. But those jeans would look very nice with the tee-shirt and boat shoes that I found will do. But, inamorato, we really must find you some club clothes."

"Club clothes?" Webb blushed. "Why would I need club clothes?"

"Silly. To go dancing in. We can go dancing, can’t we, Clayton? Please. I am so bored. Your mother is really a darling, and truly I love the opera. But, please, il mio amore, tonight can’t we go and have fun."

AJ stood up, laughing. [[Oh this won’t last. She’ll drive him nuts.]] His smile turned bittersweet. [[Just don’t hurt her, Webb.]]

Clay sighed deeply. But then saw the sad look in AJ’s eyes. "Sure, Fran. Would you like to invite Meredith? I hear the two of you hit it off."

"Ah…no." AJ quickly interjected. "I’m sure you two will have a grand time, but Meredith has a…children’s play to direct tonight. It’s how she and Mac met, I understand. In fact I have to go." He bent down and kissed Francesca on the cheek. "Call me if you need anything, dearest."

"Si, Papa."

Webb let Francesca walk her father to the door. He leaned back against the soft leather and closed his eyes. He and AJ had spent two weeks trying to find Magda with no success. He had men even now working on finding her. He had little doubt that she would net some even bigger fish, but he had no illusions as to why he had made her a priority. He also had little fear of an escalating vendetta once Magda was dead. Most of the people loyal to Vajda were dead. Magda was too crazy to instill anything but fear. He heard the door close and began to try and come up with a plan that would keep him out of the dance clubs of DC.

He opened his eyes to find her straddling his hips, her hands cupping his face. "Hmmmmmm. You smell good, Fran."

"Alysse." She whispered. "That’s my name now."

"Out there." He sighed and pulled her closer until her lips hovered above his. "Here you are Francesca, my Francesca."

"Oh? But tonight?"

He groaned softly. The look in her eye was almost pleading. "I’m going to look like a complete schmuck, Fran. I can’t dance those dances."

She ground her pelvis into his and he groaned for another reason entirely. "Bribery, darling?"

She kissed him roughly, flicking her tongue across his lips. She trailed her hands down from his shoulders to work the buttons on his shirt. "Incentive, tesoro." She bit gently on his nipple through the white cotton undershirt before sitting back, crossing her arms and pulling her top over her head.

His hand immediately cupped her pert breasts through the sheer bra, pulling her forward for another long wet kiss. "Bedroom. Now." He panted and before she could protest, he rocked up out of the couch holding her to him as he did. Then, he hurried for the staircase. When they reached his bedroom he could see she had already laid out an outfit for him to wear tonight. Picking her up, he threw her on the bed and quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes.

By the time he joined her on the bed, she had kicked off her shoes and pulled down her Capri pants. "Come here, Clayton," she whispered.

"No. This time I want to take my time. He picked up her foot and kissed the instep. Bending her knee, he carefully placed her foot exactly where he wanted it. He repeated the performance on the other instep. He stroked up and down her thighs then caressed open her labia. They had only made love that one time and it had been frantic and powerful and over all too soon. Now he wanted slow. Now he wanted to watch her passion grow.

She watched his movements through hooded eyes. For a brief moment, she wondered if the two of them could be happy together. She had made such dangerous choices in her life. She knew that Clay could be very dangerous too. [[But never with me.]] She sighed as the delicious feeling began to steal over her. When his tongue dipped into her core, she arched up driving him deeper. "Oh, yes, tesoro," she whimpered when he stopped and gasped when he bit down gently on her clit, sending her spiraling over the edge. He didn’t enter her then. Instead he moved higher, kissing her belly and tracing circles on her fevered skin. When his lips covered her nipple, sucking it into his mouth, she began her climb again, panting, arching, touching him. By the time he nibbled his way to her mouth she was becoming frantic. "Please Clayton. Please. English failed her and she began entreating him in Italian. That did the trick. He knelt between her legs almost in supplication and brought his cock to her opening. Slowly he entered her, fighting to maintain control, until he was seated deep inside her. He embraced her, holding her still, relishing the wonderful heat surrounding him. Gazing into her eyes he didn’t see the short, funny looking hair. He didn’t see anything but the eyes that had fascinated him the first time they met. With a heartfelt sigh he began to move, pulling almost all the way out, slowly, to feel every second of it, before thrusting hard into her, straining to reach that elusive spot.

Her hands seemed to flutter over his skin until he felt her walls tighten and then she gripped him tight, her nails adding a hint of pain/pleasure. Arching back he went rigid with his climax.

She felt the warm gush fill her and sighed with contentment. "I’m glad that it was you who chased after me, Clayton. I’m glad that it was you who saved me."

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