The Vauxhall was pulled into a lay-by beneath a large Oak tree with the motor shut off. They sat staring out the windshield, both deep in thought. Another half hour had been spent in the pub, rationalizing their theory and what they were going to do about it. Mallory read through the dossier again, surprised at just how much Duggan knew about her - then re-thinking - it all added up.

"I'm really screwed, Morrisey." Desolate. "I can't lie to Percy any more even if I wanted to. I'm fitted."

"Yeah it'd be a stretch to say we never found it . . . but you know there is still an out. You might get some nasty words but you wouldn't be blown."

"What possible way." She leaned her head on the door window.

He slid over and put an arm around her. "It's a risk but what hasn't been up to now?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you could tell him when we questioned him, before he made his uh, break, he gave up the location of the case. We followed up and after some searching, we finally found the case."

Her expression turned to exasperation, and she was about to protest.

"We give him the briefcase but we don't give him the code." He held his hands up. "Or better still, we could give him a different one . . ."

Her protest died, unspoken, as she considered the implication. "Are you- you'd do that? What about Grant?"

"He'll just think Percy screwed up - nothing new in Grant's opinion."

"But your own neck is out there."

"Not really, I was on secondment to SIS remember. I had to follow orders."

"Morrisey, I think I'm beginning to really like you after all."

"Don't get all gooey. There's still a mystery here. Our assassin friend. Who sent him? Somebody else is in this game."

"That's Percy's problem, not ours."

"Right. Well, if we're going to do this, I need to reattach the booby trap to the briefcase."

"Nobody will get hurt," she suddenly worried.

"Nah. Only egos. It's a low charge that fries the contents as soon as the latches are moved the wrong way. He won't even get the lid up before the contents are a dusty ash."

"Then I suggest we get back to the hotel and report our success."

                                                       ♟♟♟♟♟

A team arrived at the hotel and took possession of the briefcase. Percy made a brief call to congratulate Mallory's ingenuity, and they lay back on the bed, relaxing for the first time in a while.

"Guess we'll hear soon." She sighed, bumping her knuckles together. "Grant will surely throw a wobbly when he hears Percy got the case"

"Stop fretting. Stick to the story, it's done. Just hope they somehow don't get it open, yesterday's newspaper will not be appreciated." He turned and leaned on one elbow facing her. "So, your ingenuity saved the day." His eyes teased.

"I'll be sure to spell your name right in my report as my aide."

He laughed, and then turned serious. "Mallory . . . about earlier . . ."

"I don't want to go there."

"Was it that bad?"

"That's the trouble - it wasn't bad at all." She turned her head toward him and their eyes connected.

They stayed silent but the emotion in their expressions, and the pace of their breathing pushed everything else aside. They were alone. Isolated in the pull of one another's need. He placed a hand on her cheek. Her eyes closed and her lips parted.

"This is not a good idea, Agent Morrisey."

"I was under a different impression." His fingers cupped her chin.

"It can only make things more difficult." She raised her face to his.

"Somehow I kind of doubt that." Her arm snaked about his neck as her lips met his.

                                                      ♟♟♟♟♟

"A pence for your thoughts," he nudged her arm, testing his British accent.

"That was dreadful."

"The amount or the accent?"

"Both . . ." Her voice trailed away and she laid an arm across her forehead.

They lay side by side, only the soft sound of breathing challenging the silence. Morrisey allowed the moment to be interrupted by thoughts of Grant and his motives, and what he was willing to do to an ally.

"Oh, God." Mallory suddenly rolled away kicking at the tangle of sheets and discarded clothing.

"What? What is it?"

"Everything! This whole mess, the lies, the killing . . . just everything" Her breath quickened as she stood and went to the dresser, fumbling some liquor into a glass.

"Mallory?"

"Oh, God, how- why . . .?" She tossed the contents back and began to sob.

He climbed off the bed and went to hold her. "Mal, it's alright. You're suffering an emotional aftershock. Everything has been an overload. You just need to rest and be calm. We can talk this out--"

The phone interrupted his concerns. She checked its screen on the dresser - it was Percy - again.

                                                       ♟♟♟♟♟

"What did he say?"

"He was livid. The code didn't work and the contents were destroyed."

Morrisey nodded. "Good thing his gremlins didn't find another way in."

"He wants an official face to face update on the retrieval of the briefcase."

She tossed the phone down and took her drink to the bed, sitting with a thump. "Sorry about the water works."

"Want to tell me about it now?"

She got up from the bed and went to get another drink, gesturing in question toward him. He accepted a glass, and offered a toast gesture.

"I guess straight out is the best way." She sipped first, glanced at him, then began. "I was seventeen. I got pregnant and--"

"That's plenty, Mal." He turned away, waving a hand. "I don't need to know any more. But you can see why he picked you."

"He couldn't know that." Frustration made her angry.

"Grant could. He'd find a way."

With a dejected shrug, she finished her drink, collected her clothes, and gathered her purse. "It's getting on; I guess we'd better get ready and go."

                                                       ♟♟♟♟♟

Percy sat stiffly behind his desk, brow creased, lips tight and thin. Across the room, slouched in a large leather chair, Grant cradled a glass of whisky and puffed contemplatively on a large cigar. Mallory entered the room ahead of Morrisey and they stopped, side by side, looking hunted.

"Sit. Sit." Percy commanded with annoyance. "Don't stand there like chastened schoolchildren."

"Didn't know you were over here, Grant," Morrisey said, sliding into a single chair beside Mallory, next to Percy's desk.

"Wasn't aware I had to inform you, Abraham." He took in the creased and wrinkled clothing, and the smoke from the cigar bloomed up to the ceiling. "So what's the play here?"

"This is my meeting," Percy snapped, petulantly. "I'm very displeased with the report received about this Luka Stepanov business."

Mallory crossed her legs and relaxed some, recognizing the fact Percy somehow felt excluded. "What exactly displeases you, Percy? I thought I explained everything."

His face pinked, and he covered the fact by busying himself pouring some tea.

"For example . . . the code you said you retrieved from the victim." Mallory wet her upper lip. "Am I to understand, had it been delivered, Felix Kubavich would have experienced the same disaster?"

"I expect so, given the result. We gave you what we found."

"And you think that was the plan?" He snapped.

"Frankly, I have no idea what the plan was. Perhaps, our American cousin could enlighten us."

Grant gave her an appraising look through the cigar smoke. He saw the others watching him and he sat up a little, finishing his whisky. "The Alliance were simply observers, Ms West." His eyes turned to Morrisey, and then slid away. "To follow the delivery to Felix and The Guild, as it turned out, we both failed." Grant savoured his cigar again, watching Morrisey through the smoke.

Mallory looked to Percy. "You started this meeting with Luka Stepanov. What have we learned, if anything? Do we know who activated him?"

He shuffled through some papers, sipped some tea, and unnecessarily adjusted his tie. "We learned that the case also contained the remains of his spy gear, so he obviously knew how to open it. What would be your guess as to why our courier carried a fake code for the briefcase?" His eyes drilled Mallory.

"Perhaps Department G never intended to reveal the contents. They were just pretending, and when Felix opened the case incorrectly, they could say it was his fault. After all, we don't know what was in there . . . nobody does."

The pause made Grant look at her sharply. Morrisey kept his attention on Percy but he could sense Grant watching him too.

"Do you support that theory, Abraham?" Grant's voice sounded petulant.

"Well, it sounds awfully risky to me, but yes, that could be a possibility. But we don't know what the Russians had in mind."

"Well it would appear we have made quite a pig's ear of this entire operation. We have a dead courier. A dead assassin. A destroyed briefcase and no clue as to where Felix Kubachev is, nor what any of the opposition is up to!" The rise in Percy's voice had everyone sitting up.

Grant broke the tension, standing with his hands in his pockets. "Abraham, according to field reports, there was a noticeable period of delay between retrieving the briefcase, and delivering it to SIS. Care to explain?"

"I'm not sure what would be a noticeable period of delay. And we didn't deliver it; Percy's team came and picked it up. Agent West was suffering a period of shock from our encounter with Luka, and it took a while to find it - what is your point?"

"Didn't see fit to do any private tinkering with the prize?"

"I don't like your insinuation, Grant. Ms West explained all that in her report to Perc- Director Carstairs. If there's anything else of value to discuss here, let's get it done, otherwise I'm gone."

Percy slapped his desk. "This is my meeting. You will all bear that in mind."

"Sir, we gave you our report. You got the briefcase - the result not what we wanted - but nevertheless, we did our job. There is nothing more, unless you have new information to proceed on." Mallory stood with the others.

"Not at present. However, you will remain at the hotel until our people have thoroughly completed processing the site."

"You'll be on the next flight home, Abraham." Grant stated pointedly.

"Excuse me, old boy, but Agent Morrisey is still seconded to SIS. He'll be home when we have finished our reports." Percy puffed his chest defiantly.

Grant threw him an acid look and left the room.

"Ms West is still your lead, Morrisey." Percy waved them out.