"Yes, sir," the voice replied smartly, then said nothing more.

"Do you think he's gone?" Sandra asked.

"Do you want him to be gone?" Matt countered, raising one eyebrow in challenge as he met her gaze.

Shocked, her eyes widened. "Don't you?"

Matt shrugged. "I don't really care either way." His mouth descended to nibble on her skin once more. "Let them listen to how much I love you. Let them envy me-the luckiest son of a bitch in the world." He nipped the cords of her neck as she squirmed on top of him.

The fever in her blood rekindled; she would not be denied. She began to move on him even more forcefully, driving to the inevitable end she wanted so desperately, the need increasing with every passing second. Even the thought of someone listening at the door didn't deter her. In fact, it only heightened her need.

"Matt!" she cried his name, trying to keep her voice low. It came out on a whimper of need, a small gasp of hunger.

"I love you, Sandy. Come for me now," he ordered, straining with her as they approached the precipice together.

That was all it took for her to crash over the side, riding the wave of passion. He followed behind, his body clenching beneath her as pleasure swamped them both, drowning them, surrounding them, engulfing them in ecstasy.

She couldn't speak for long moments. Couldn't think. Couldn't process anything other than the feel of him beneath her, within her, and the sweeping satisfaction they'd found together. Nothing could mar the perfection of this moment. She collapsed against him, lowering her arms from the chair back to wrap around his shoulders.

"I love you so much," she whispered as the afterglow settled over her body, warming it from the inside out.

They sat like that for some time, enjoying the moment and basking in the perfection of their love.

Before the beautiful haze faded completely, Matt moved them both to the leather couch along one wall to rest for a few minutes. They were stealing time and would have to get up sooner rather than later, but just for a minute or two, it was good to lie down, cradling the woman he loved more than life in his arms. He'd remember these stolen moments for the rest of his life.

Matt didn't allow himself to doze long. After only a quarter of an hour or so, he gently roused Sandra. She'd fallen asleep against his heart. Though he hated to wake her, he knew they had work to do this night. More than just their lives and happiness were on the line.

Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and the hazy pleasure he read there touched his heart. He steeled himself against the lethargy that urged him to stay just a little longer in this idyllic cocoon of bliss. Resolving himself, Matt sat up, taking her with him.

"Much as I'd love to lie around here all night and make love to you, we still have work to do." He frowned. "I used to live for my work, but right now, I'll admit, it's a drag. I finally have someone in my life who is more important to me than my job." He tilted his head, considering. "I never quite thought it would happen to me."

"But you're happy about it, right?" Uncertainty crept into her tone.

He pulled her close. "Damn right I'm happy about it. Ecstatic, in fact. And once we tie up the loose ends of this mission, I'll be glad to show you just how ecstatic. Repeatedly. Right now, though, duty calls." He let her go and stood, looking around for their clothes.

Her outfit was still on the floor arranged in the loose ring of fabric she'd stepped out of only moments before. His shirt was a few feet away. He gathered the pieces and shrugged into his shirt before handing her clothes to her. Watching her dress, he knew he'd never get tired of the sight. She was utterly gorgeous and still so innocent, which was odd for a woman her age in this society. Then again, she was highly educated and almost as driven as he was, if not more. It was likely she hadn't had a lot of time for relationships. Matt had led a similar life in the past few years. Until now. Meeting the love of his life had changed everything.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

Matt had to refocus on the mission. He had a plan, but he still had to put it into action. That was the only reason he'd found the strength to let Sandra go. Otherwise, he'd have made love to her again, over and over, all night long and then some.

"I'm going to roust Beverly Bartles out of bed and arrest her ass, for one thing. Rodriguez implicated her. That's enough for me to detain her. Just what I needed, in fact. Then we'll see if we can't get her to flip on her boss. She's been spying on me for Admiral Chester. She's also been working for Rodriguez. The big question is whether Chester is in league with the rogue scientists, too, or is Bev double-timing him?"

"Considering his rank and position, I sincerely hope it's the latter," Sandra said. "I'd hate to think an admiral was willing to sell out to the highest bidder. Especially on something as detrimental as this. If he's willing to sell this technology-which has the potential for killing so many-what else has he been willing to sell?"

"Exactly the question that sends chills down my spine." Matt's mouth firmed into a grim line.

Beverly reached for her mobile phone in the darkness. The insistent, shrill ring had awoken her.

"This better be good." She really didn't like being awakened in the middle of the night.

"You should be nicer to me, Bev. I'm about to save your miserable skin."

She sat upright, recognizing the voice immediately. It had to be serious for him to call her directly.

"What's going on?"

"Rodriguez has gone off the grid."

Oh, no.

"He disabled his beacon?"

"Not before transmitting the capture signal."

"Shit. I bet Sykes has him. They moved their HQ and there's no way I can help get him out. The new location is too secure."

"There's only one thing to do." She understood that tone and the cryptic words.

"I'll do it."

"Good. I'll set up your transport. Check for coordinates by text message in fifteen minutes. That should give you enough time."

Beverly was already out of bed, dressing for the work ahead. They'd devised a contingency plan in case something like this happened. She'd thought it a waste of time when he'd made her go through it with him, describing every last detail about the base, but she was glad for the preparation now. She knew exactly what to do and how long it would take.

"Roger that." She disconnected the call and stowed the phone in its secure holder at her waist.

There was little in the small room that she wanted or needed. All would be provided for her when she reached her destination, and nothing here had been hers for very long. She lived a disposable life now, never putting down roots in any one spot. It was safer that way.

She had no time to waste. She had a lot of work to do and only a short time to do it. This would have to be fast, but she was prepared. Bev found the emergency documents she'd prepared and hidden in her living quarters. Leaving them where they would be found, she systematically destroyed certain other items that she'd had secreted around the room.

She would leave only enough to be certain to lead Matt Sykes and his team to a much bigger fish than she appeared to be. With any luck, that would distract the hunters long enough for her to make a clean getaway.

Satisfied by her quick work, Bev felt the vibration at her waist that alerted her to an incoming text message. Checking the screen quickly, she smiled in grim satisfaction. Her contact had come through again. She picked up the bag of things she'd take with her and headed out the door. She was never coming back here again, but she felt no remorse or sadness. She had done her job and would be richly rewarded, no matter the colossal screwup Rodriguez had committed. He'd always been a little unhinged in her opinion. All the parties involved knew he'd been a weak link, so there was no surprise that he'd gotten himself captured.

They'd prepared for exactly that contingency, which was one of the main reasons Beverly had been put in place. Now it was time to activate the plan. It was also time for her to go. She wouldn't miss the base or the people. She had bigger fish to fry-and a plane to catch.

A small team prepared to storm Bev's bedroom. She was bunking in the BOQ-the bachelor officers' quarters-on base, so all she had was one room to call her own. Sarah and Xavier were to accompany Matt inside the room. Sam was watching outside the room's only window. Matt had recalled Sarah from the farmhouse for just this purpose. Her skills as a former cop would be more useful here for the time being. When they were all in position, Matt counted them down.

"On three," he whispered, following through with the rest of the countdown before springing into action.

Matt went first, kicking in the door. Xavier followed with Sarah hot on his heels. After checking the closet and under the bed, Matt crossed the empty room to the window. Sam was outside in the bushes, out of sight.

"She's not here," Matt told Sam over the radio. They were using a separate frequency for this small-scale op. "Stand watch."

"Aye, aye, sir." Sam melted back into the predawn shadows to watch and guard.

Sarah and Xavier were already busy methodically searching the small room. This wouldn't take long.

"What do you think?" Matt asked them both.

"She's not coming back," Sarah said with disgust lacing her tone.

"What makes you say that?" Xavier challenged. "Her clothes and toiletries are still here. Doesn't look like she took much. If she'd planned to leave for good, wouldn't she have taken more of her stuff with her?"

"None of this stuff is expensive or irreplaceable. Common, cheap brands of makeup and personal care items. Uniform clothing. Even the few sets of civilian clothes are cheap and easily replaceable. Nothing personal-no family photos, trinkets, letters." She ticked off the points of evidence on her fingers, then gestured to the room in general. "Nothing personal was left behind. If she had any of those things to begin with, they were most likely in her purse, which is missing. She traveled light. At most she has maybe one bag with her. Probably a change of clothes and whatever important trinkets and papers she might've had with her. We probably won't find any clues in what's left here. Except for her fingerprints, which we already have and aren't much use anyway; the place looks to me like it's been sanitized. I'd lay odds Bev is gone for good."

Matt glanced at Xavier with one eyebrow raised in question. Xavier shrugged in apparent agreement.

"Sounds reasonable."

"All right." Matt was not just disappointed. He was pissed. "I want to know how she knew to get out of Dodge. You two stay here and do a thorough search. Maybe she missed something when she vacated. I'm going to my old office to search there. I'll take Sam with me. I still don't want anyone on the team going anywhere outside our secure building alone, so you two need to stick together and check in with the comm officer every fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir. We're happy to oblige," Xavier drawled, his words thickly accented.

Xavier's smile was aimed at Sarah, and for the first time Matt didn't envy the couple. He had his own fiancee now. He was no longer on the outside looking in.

Matt left the two lovers to their search of the room. Sam met him outside, and together they walked rapidly toward his old office. He hadn't used the place in a while. Not since moving into the older, more secure building. It had only been a day or two, but it felt like years. So much had happened since he'd made the decision to pull the plug on Beverly's spying and move the team into one central location. He'd left Bev behind, ostensibly to hold down the fort, but he'd really devised the plan as a neat way to push her out of the loop and away from his daily activities.

It had worked, neat as a pin. Even better, she couldn't complain because he'd left her in charge of the office. An empty office. Matt had the last laugh on that one, at least, even if it looked like Bev had gotten him back by skipping town in the dead of night without a trace.

He entered the office cautiously, using his key. The place was deserted, as he'd expected.

What he didn't expect was the neatly typed letter waiting for him on top of a stack of folders on Bev's desk. He took a quick survey of the office before returning to the intriguing letter. Cautiously, he picked it up.

Congratulations, commander, the note read. You win.

"Cryptic," Matt commented, handing the slip of paper to Sam.

"Short and sweet, too. From Bev?" Sam asked.

"It looks like her handwriting," Matt confirmed.

"What did she leave for you?" Sam pointed to the desk.

Matt paused to glance at the files that had been stacked under the note. Opening them one by one, he scanned the contents. They contained some of his preliminary research on the zombie attacks at Fort Bragg and elsewhere. He hadn't seen these files in a while, and it looked to him like Bev had done some work on them. She'd highlighted certain passages and drawn a maze of arrows and circles in bright colors on a few of the pages in each file.

She'd also added annotations, drawing seemingly unrelated events together in a way Matt hadn't anticipated. She'd laid out patterns in the data he hadn't seen before and would not have known to look for. They were too subtle. Perhaps in time he would've made the connections, but he admitted he hadn't had enough of the common factors previously to connect these particular dots.

"Looks like she drew you a map," Sam commented, nodding at one of the folders Matt had left open on the desk as he looked at the one beneath it.

"More than you know, Sam," Matt said absently as he continued to read.

One exchange in particular drew his attention. Admiral Chester had issued orders for the personnel change that inserted Bev into Matt's office, and shortly thereafter Tim had died, turned into a zombie.

Bev had circled the date and time stamp on the orders. Either accidentally or deliberately-and Matt now believed it was the latter considering the way she had left and the evidence she'd left behind-the orders were dated after Bev's arrival on base. Add to that her personal cell phone records, which she must have added to the file...now they were interesting. The records indicated Beverly had called Admiral Chester at home shortly before the orders were faxed through to Matt's office from Chester's home fax machine. Voil. Just like that, a conspiracy was born.

Bev had given him probable cause to investigate Admiral Chester. All wrapped up in shiny fax paper and tied with a bow.

Beverly Bartles didn't look back as she boarded the small charter plane in the early hours before dawn. The flight crew consisted of only one pilot. Nobody else. He didn't even glance at her as she boarded. He simply closed the cabin door behind her and then shut himself inside the cockpit.

A moment later, she heard the engines rev in preparation for departure. The small jet rolled away from the hangar and onto the tarmac. Minutes later, it was airborne.

Beverly felt her fear of capture slough away with each mile, each moment that passed. She'd made her getaway. Her secrets were safe. She'd given Matt Sykes enough to keep him busy and his attention focused elsewhere. An admiral was a much bigger fish than a mere ensign, after all. Too bad Sykes didn't realize the admiral was only a small player in a much bigger game.

She smiled with smug satisfaction as she poured herself a finger of expensive bourbon and settled back into the luxurious leather seat. These private jets were comfy. When she got her cut of the money, maybe she would buy one of her own. She would be able to afford all sorts of luxuries once she had her share.

Beverly settled into a light doze, dreaming of the easy life she would lead once this was all over. She felt safe enough for the moment to grab a little shut-eye.

Twenty minutes later, she was fast asleep when the Praxis Air charter jet burst into a ball of flame. Tiny bits of debris rained down over a farmer's field for a good five minutes. Very little was left of the jet, or its occupants.

"Is it done?" the voice on the phone asked.

"It's over." The man in the office answered. "I've got to tell you, I don't like this at all. You're ruining my father's company. This is the second jet I've destroyed for you. I'm going to have the NTSB crawling all over my ass in an hour. I won't do it again. This is the last time."

"There's no record of Bartles being on the jet, right?"

"Of course not. Just the pilot. I made it look like he was returning the jet to our home base for repairs. Just a ferry flight to get the jet back here. I'm going to blame the crash on his poor judgment in thinking the jet was fit to fly. Pilot error."

"Tidy." Satisfaction sounded in that voice.

"That's what you pay me for. But this is the last of my dad's jets I'm losing. Understood?"

"It would bring too much suspicion were we to destroy another one of your father's toys, so you needn't worry. I will, however, still require his planes to fly my potential buyers around. The sooner we cut the final deal, the sooner we both strike it rich."

"Charter flights are the bread and butter of this company. It won't be a problem to fly your buyers around. You know that."

"Very well. I'll leave you to your NTSB visit. I'll be in touch in a few days. As soon as the furor dies down a bit."

The man in the office hung up the phone with a muffled curse. This was getting much more complicated than he'd bargained for. Sometimes he wished he'd never become involved with this whole mess, but the money was too tempting to turn down. He never thought he'd have to kill people or destroy two of his father's prized jets, not to mention having to deal with the National Transportation Safety Board.

If the old man would just loosen up on the reins and give him access to more cash, he never would have been put in this position. It was all the old man's fault, really. Served him right he'd lost two jets over the deal. His stinginess with his own son had caused all this.

The man, standing alone in the office, cursed again. Even if he'd wanted to get out now, he was in too deep. He'd killed. He'd falsified too many documents to recall. The only way out now was success. They'd sell the technology to the highest bidder, and his cut would set him for life. He could buy the island he had his eye on and retire there with any number of beautiful women who liked expensive living. He didn't have to limit himself to just one female companion. He could have as many as he liked whenever he wanted them. However he wanted them.

The old man's disapproving gaze would never land on him again. He'd finally be free, with his own money. He'd never again face the threat of being cut off without a cent. He'd be his own man. Finally. And for good.

It was a heady thought. A smile graced his lips as he dreamed of the freedom all that cash would buy him. That was what made all this worthwhile. Freedom from his over-bearing, judgmental, stingy father was the goal that would help him put up with all the questions and investigations. All the disapproval he'd face from the old man and the suspicions of the NTSB.

He just had to keep his eyes on the prize-an island of his own with a bevy of beauties at his beck and call. Yeah, that's what kept him going. That, and all the money he could ever hope to spend.

John circled Dr. Rodriguez. He was sitting behind a table in an empty conference room. A video camera taped the entire interrogation for future reference. Matt sat across the table, watching Rodriguez squirm under John's masterful interrogation.

"We know Ensign Bartles was feeding you information," John informed him.

Rodriguez refused to speak. He merely drew invisible circles on the tabletop with his finger. Matt watched the man while John tried to elicit a response. So far, John hadn't gotten him to say anything else. Since the failed attempt to escape in the woods, Rodriguez had clammed up.

"We know about Admiral Chester. He's already in custody."