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She'd been given eight weeks, used seven and was still no closer to finding him. If she didn't locate him soon, Jasmine was certain to be headed to Abeyance - if not cancellation. She hadn't expected it to be easy, but she hadn't expected it to be quite so difficult either; she had hit so many dead ends it was a wonder she didn't have a concussion. Michael and his son had disappeared - it was as though they had never existed.
"Anything promising?" she asked Mitchell, for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
He sighed, running a giant hand through his shaggy hair. "More of the same - a few possible."
Better than nothing.
"Well?" She was impatient.
"Guy in France rescued some people from a fire, didn't want publicity. A guy in hospital in Germany, lots of scars and no memory of how he came by them. Three contacts swear they saw Michael in three separate states in America. Another four contacts insist he's in various countries in Europe. One claims Michael is living in Australia. And then we have the contact who watched Adam play soccer in New Hampshire - USA."
"Right. No doubt our most reliable contacts. What are the other sources like?" She dreaded the answer.
"Doctor at the German hospital and the other I got from the net." He grinned sheepishly.
"Uh-huh." Abeyance here I come! "We'll check them all out."
Her phone started ringing; she answered on the fourth ring, "Yes?"
"Report," Operations' cool voice ordered.
Perfect timing.
"We have a few leads, we are following them up."
"You haven't found him." She sounded disappointed.
"No, but it..."
Operations cut her off. "I don't need to hear excuses."
Jasmine repressed a sigh. "Right."
"Do I need to remind you of how important this mission is?"
Operations asked, and Jasmine was prompt to respond, "No, Ma'am."
"Get it done."
"Yes, Ma'am," Jasmine said to the dial tone. She felt drained of energy. She turned to find Mitchell staring at her, curiosity burning in his eyes. "Operations is not impressed with our lack of progress," she told him.
"What does she expect?" Simon announced himself by asking.
Jasmine was sick of Simon; for the last week all he'd done was criticize Operations and make a general nuisance of himself.
"I'm sorry?" she replied acidly.
"What does she expect?" He willfully misinterpreted her.
"I'm not deaf. What did you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
She remained silent.
"Michael's a pro, if he doesn't want to be found we are not going to find him."
"Your point?" Maintaining control was difficult.
He shrugged. "I just made it. This is a waste of time. Why are we searching for her old boyfriend anyhow?"
He's probably right. "We follow our orders."
"Whatever." Simon sat down next to Mitchell.
"Go get packed you're going to check out some leads here in Europe," she said, her tone now harsh.
He stood. "Yes, Ma'am."
"You'll get an ID and report back; you will not engage, you will not expose yourself. Got it?"
He grinned. "I'm not to expose myself, yep, got it."
"Cassidy will be going with you," she continued.
"Always a pleasure to work with a beautiful woman." He winked at Mitchell and then left the room.
He'll be the death of me.
Jasmine sighed. "Lore and I will check out the sightings stateside," she told Mitchell.
He mumbled an acknowledgement, keeping his head down in order to hide a smile.
Winter was fast approaching; the leaves on the surrounding trees a collection of red and golden hews. The air was crisp. Michael stood leaning against a tall oak, watching Adam play soccer with a couple of friends nearby. It was slightly cold in the shadow of the tree, but some habits died hard and Michael would always choose shadows over the warming sun.
Lately he had become more relaxed - less observant - more the father and less the operative; but he would always be cautious, some part of him forever on alert. He swept his eyes over the surrounding area, his custom every five to ten minutes, and was shocked by the sight of her.
He hadn't seen her enter the park, nor had he seen her take a seat on the bench nearby. But there she was, sitting on a bench not ten yards away from him - somehow managing to make her black pants suit look casual, even with the matching black scarf and dark FBI style glasses.
She didn't belong, and yet, to the average observer she would not have seemed out of place. Michael probably would have dismissed her himself had she not seemed to be staring directly at him. Her attention captured his.
Shivers traveled up his spine, he scanned the park, looking for other operatives, but was unable to detect any and unnerved because of it. Bringing his eyes back to her, she no longer seemed to be looking in his direction, but he couldn't be sure. She seemed to be waiting for something and he suspected that something was himself.
He looked back towards the impromptu soccer game - Adam was still there - then closed the distance between the strangely familiar woman and himself. She didn't turn in his direction, but when he was within a few feet she spoke.
"You were much too easy to find Michael."
He had thought she was familiar before but when he heard the voice, he knew. "Janet."
She turned her face towards him and slowly reached a hand up to remove her glasses. Green eyes met green. "I'm touched you remember." She smiled warmly, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"I was unlikely to forget." Sixteen years on, he remembered it like yesterday. One of his first missions; one of his first mistakes. Michael forced himself to smile back at her and closed the small distance to bestow the expected quick kiss on each cheek. He then sat down beside her, turning his eyes once more to watch Adam.
"Section is looking for you." Her glaze wandered the park in the deliberately casual way of one well trained.
Michael considered her words for a few moments. "Purpose?"
A wan smile. "Recruitment."
"Who?" Michael had a sinking suspicion he knew the answer.
"Operations."
She spoke the name with little - if any - emotion, but that did not lessen its effect on Michael. It was as though she had kicked him in the solar plexus. He watched as Adam kicked the soccer ball from one end of the field to the other, happily unaware that his world was about to be wrenched out from under him.
Again.
Michael's limbs felt heavy. "Why?"
"She requires a second, you are the most qualified." Janet's eyes continued their survey, while her words continued their assault.
"Why now?" His voice seemed unusually calm to his ears.
Would Nikita really do such a thing?
"Pressure from above."
"Reason?"
Who is this emotionless robot managing to ask such questions in that calm, clear voice?
"Lack of confidence in Operations' abilities."
He turned to face Janet, tracing every line of her face for any indication that what she was saying wasn't true. It was a wasted effort and it didn't really matter; he was already convinced. "How long do I have?" His voice broke.
On some level he had always expected the day would come, but just because Nikita's betrayal was expected didn't make it any less painful. He felt as though Nikita had stabbed him in the heart.
"Two days at the most." Janet turned and met his eyes.
"What are you offering?" Michael knew her well enough to know she hadn't come all this way just to give him a warning.
"Payment."
A single word can communicate so much.
His eyes found Adam.
He would never understand; I would never forgive myself. I cannot go back.
He nodded once.
Janet indicated the continuing game. "We don't need to leave straight away; he can play a little longer."
Michael didn't reply.
They watched his son play soccer in the dreary Park that only an hour before had seemed so beautiful to Michael's eyes.
"He's gone," Jasmine announced in a tired voice.
"Then he was there?" Nikita didn't bother keeping the impatience from her own.
"Yes, not two days ago," Jasmine confirmed.
"Any indication of where he went?"
"Negative."
"Any indication that he knew we were coming?" Nikita prodded.
Jasmine sighed. "He's not here."
"Return to Section," Nikita ordered in a cold tone.
"You don't want us to..."
She cut Jasmine off. "You're not going to find him. Come in."
"On our way."
Nikita ended the transmission by banging her hand hard against the console - a sharp, biting pain traveled up the length of her arm.
"Damn him," she said angrily.
He'd deserted her yet again. She felt betrayed. She felt an overwhelming need to break something, to tear the world apart with her bare hands. Michael had to know she would never break her promise unless it was absolutely necessary.
Section needs him - I need him - and he's run away.
Away from Section, away from her - she hated him for his cowardice. She had given so much and asked so little; how could he abandon her in her time of need? How could he do this to her? How could he be so selfish, so uncaring - so Michael.
"Just like old times." She laughed bitterly.
There was no point in raging about it; no sense in wasting her energy screaming about the injustice of it all, weeping over his betrayal. There was too much to do for her to indulge in such luxuries as temper tantrums, not when necessities such as sleep were difficult to accommodate.
He was gone and she had work to do.
She had a briefing in an hour, a report to complete that Oversight needed yesterday, two active missions she was supposed to be monitoring, a failed mission she had to investigate, a dozen reports that had needed her attention for over a month - and more arriving every hour. She had proposals to consider - to approve or refuse and, thanks to Michael's disappearing act, she now had to find a Second-In-Command.
She had no time to rage, no time to weep. She had to work.
That is what she did. She reviewed the failed mission, sent the profiler to Abeyance and would have marked the team leader for cancellation had he not died during the mission. She read over two proposals - rejecting both, briefed the team on the new mission, kept one eye on the missions in progress and managed to review 11 of the 12 reports that had been waiting a month - plus four that had arrived within the month. She even managed to draw up a list of four possible candidates for her Second.
Nine hours later - twenty-one hours since her day began - her eyes were closing despite her best efforts; she knew she should call it a day. There was however that last report - it was last for a reason.
She opened the file and scanned it quickly. She already knew what it said, Quinn had given an oral account - somehow it was more real in print.
I was wrong.
It hadn't been Janet. It was a group called Black Order - in Section's systems for over twenty years - and no one had considered them a threat.
Not exactly no one.
Someone had gone to the trouble of wiping the organization off the face of the planet, and they did it using Section methods. Someone wanted Section to be blamed; someone didn't want to be noticed. Immediately she thought of Janet, but then dismissed the idea.
The woman couldn't be everywhere at once - Janet wasn't responsible for everything.
Black Order had previous run-ins with Red Cell, but no one else - they knew of. Section had dealt Red Cell an almost fatal blow a few years back; Nikita doubted they had recovered enough to manage something of that scale. It was a mystery, one they needed to solve.
You're not going to solve it tonight.
She closed the file, logged off and left the Perch for the tangle of her sheets.
The car slowed in front of a three-story homestead, neither ostentatious nor pedestrian in nature. It had a classic elegance, difficult to achieve without a great deal of money - Michael was impressed.
Janet didn't bother waiting for them to follow; instead she marched up the steps and straight into the house as though just remembering something of importance. He was only too aware that the most pressing thing on her mind was to get away from Adam before she shot him in the head.
Janet disliked children; Adam was not an exception. Unfortunately, from the moment Adam laid eyes on her he adored her. On the plane he had insisted on sitting next to her, talking her ear off for the entire flight. When they had moved to the hotel, she had barricaded herself in her room, at first citing business as an excuse to avoid them. Adam had whined the entire time that she was absent. Continuously wanting to know where she was, what she was doing and how much longer she would be doing it.
When she finally appeared - two full days later - the boy had clung to her like a leech. For the three weeks it had taken them to complete their journey, Adam had been her shadow. Michael had never seen him behave in this manner. Adam didn't normally accept people so quickly, nor was he inclined to smothering someone with his attention, especially someone that was so little inclined to accept it.
Though it made him uneasy that his son would choose to associate with the likes of Janet, Michael had welcomed the distraction Adam's behavior provided. It allowed him to forget, for a few moments at least, the reason for their journey.
A man stood just inside the doorway. Michael completed a quick evaluation: The man had the eyes of a killer; muscles strained against the material of his expensive suit.
The man offered a large bronzed hand in greeting. "Welcome. I'm Daniel."
Michael shook Daniel's hand. "Michael. This is Adam." He pushed his son forward.
Daniel shook Adam's hand. "Janet requests your company in her office Michael. I'll show Adam around the house."
Michael nodded his agreement.
"Very good," Daniel said. "Di will direct you," he informed Michael before leading off a reluctant Adam.
"If you'll come this way."
Michael turned quickly. He hadn't heard her enter the room. I'm slipping.
The woman smiled reassuringly. "I'm Di. Janet sent me to get you."
"Yes," he said, mask firmly in place.
Her smile widened. She turned and began walking at a brisk pace. Di led him through the house to the east wing and stopped before a large oak door. "She's waiting for you," she said and then left him, disappearing into the depths of the house.
Michael opened the door and entered.
"You wanted to see me?" he opened.
"Yes, I've some good news for you. Section won't be bothering you anymore," she announced.
"For now," he amended.
"For good."
For good? He raised an eyebrow in query.
"Red Cell is about to destroy them, so they won't be bothering anyone anymore." She smiled.
"Source?"
"I consider it to be very reliable information." She appeared amused.
"Is Section aware of the threat?" If Nikita knew...
She laughed softly. "If they were aware of it, they might survive to be a problem." She considered him. "You want to warn them."
"Yes."
"Even when you know their demise will guarantee your freedom?" She looked at him curiously.
At such a cost? "Yes," he restated simply.
"How very noble of you. You are my guest Michael and you will be treated as such. You are free to do whatever you wish, but I'd advise against interfering with my plans."
He paused a moment, containing his anger by biting down on his tongue. "Is Red Cell's destruction of Section a part of your plans?"
She smiled, saying nothing at first. "I could make it work for me."
"I would like to warn them." He held her gaze.
She sighed. "Do as you like."
He didn't respond.
"Make my job harder, why don't you." She grinned widely.
He doubted he knew a person he liked less.
There simply weren't enough hours in the day.
The appointment of a Second-In-Command should have lessened her workload but it hadn't - it had increased it. She now had to make time in her day to correct his mistakes.
He - Jacob, a transfer from Section Two - wasn't adapting as quickly as she had hoped. He was improving and in time he would be a competent second for her, but she needed one now. She couldn't continue doing his work as well as hers; things were getting missed and the success rate was slipping.
If Jacob didn't improve quickly she would have to request help from Oversight - that she didn't want to do. Oversight was impatient of late; she believed they were looking for a reason to replace her - she didn't want to give them a reason. She needed to hold on; she had to find the strength to continue. If she didn't, Janet's victory would be assured - that she wasn't going to allow.
Paul had it easy.
If Nikita had a Second like Madeline, she'd be on 93% too, if she had Michael...she's dead and he may as well be - stop thinking about it, you've work to do.
I'm tired. So very tired. She wanted to lie down and never get up again - give up and let the world take care of itself, only it wouldn't and she couldn't. She got to work.
Nikita was an hour into the jumble of "paperwork" when she noticed the message; she recognized the code at once. Michael. She opened the files; eager to discover what he had sent to her, perhaps he wasn't going to desert her.
At first she thought it was his idea of a sick joke, but then she remembered he didn't have a sense of humor. She scanned the information; it was real, it was happening. She had to act - fast.
Nikita grabbed her cell phone placing a call at the same time she hit the connection to Comm. "Any missions graded below level two are hereby cancelled," she told them as a voice sounded in her ear.
"Yes." Quinn sounded groggy.
Ignoring the puzzled looks she was getting from the operatives below her, she said, "Jennifer. Come in."
"I'll be there in twenty," Quinn replied.
"Be here in ten," Nikita snapped and cut the connection. Turning her attention back to Comm. "Quinn is on her way - call everyone else in and send someone to wake up Jacob," she instructed them.
They didn't move.
"NOW!" she thundered.
They flew into action. Five minutes later, a scruffy Jacob entered the Perch.
"Red Cell is readying an attack; we are going to take them out first. Get together with the relevant department heads and whoever else you need, I want a profile in three hours," she handed him a PDA onto which she'd downloaded the information.
He scanned it quickly. "Is this accurate?"
"I believe so - now get to work."
He was quick to comply.
We need to move quickly. Section had a window of opportunity, but it could close at any time. If they missed their chance, Red Cell could succeed.
Over my dead body!
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