Tess nodded. "If you want, but this time you'll be on your own, with us. Your main objective is to follow Marlena, make sure she's okay, then let them take her prisoner."

Steve shook his head. "No, I won't let her be taken prisoner without me."

Tess's eyes narrowed. "It's her job, Steve," she reminded, her voice deceptively gentle. "She has to find out who is behind the sale."

"And let's say she does, and she's still a prisoner, what then?"

"Once we find out who the man is, we will decide what to do with him."

"What about Marlena? How does she get out, if she's in danger? If there is a leak, she's probably walking into a trap." The thought of it made his blood run cold.

"It's the risk we all take. She understands the probabilities of the situation."

"No." Steve shook his head again. This time he wouldn't just stand around. "If I'm in, I do it with her. If I'm to follow her, I follow her into danger all the way."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Simple. I get caught." He looked straight at Tess, determined to have his plan taken seriously. "The probabilities for keeping Marlena safe just went up."

He had expected protests, but then Tess wasn't exactly a predictable woman. She sipped her drink. It took a second before he realized that she was trying not to smile. Somehow he had been manipulated again, to do exactly what...he wanted. He stared stonily back at her.

"A good plan," Tess agreed, "and I'll allow it on two conditions. One, you aren't allowed to report anything back to Harden or your Task Force Two team."

"Why not?"

"Well, first of all you're off this case, as far as Harden is concerned. Then there are the leaks, remember? Besides, Harden will go by the book and storm in to get his man." Tess' expression became harder. "We don't want that yet. Our objective goes a lot further than clogging up a leak temporarily, Agent McMillan. Do you understand?"

Sure he did. They wanted to see the whole mole organization fall apart, which was all right by him. If there was indeed someone betraying the agency from the inside, and if catching him was the admiral's objective in the first place, he wouldn't be working against his team. He realized with sudden clarity that he would be working on Marlena's side, too. Which made it more than all right.

Tess was waiting for his answer, that small smile still playing on her lips. "Unless, of course, you don't want to be...um...Marlena's partner?"

Steve couldn't help but smile back. "Did I tell you that you don't lack in the brain department, either? What's the second condition?"

Tess laughed. "You're perfect for our kind of work, Agent McMillan. We'll get you some tools to put on, set you up so that Marlena will know you have my approval, and then we're ready to go over the details."

"Please don't say I have to dye my hair," Steve countered in mock horror.

"No, but you're going to be wearing an earring."

"What? No way."

Danger had different smells and sounds. This time it had the scent of plush leather seats in a quietly droning car. Expensive cologne. Very quiet commands.

Marlena let the sounds and smells drift over her, getting ready for the confrontation. She must remain in control no matter what surprises the enemy sprang on her. One little mistake could be her undoing.

Hands led Marlena up some steps. A house, maybe, she thought, listening for clues. It smelled of a house, not a hotel room. The floors were tiled. Her boots clacked as she walked carefully, guided up more steps. Then her heels sank into deep carpet. She caught the scent of fresh flowers. She heard a door closing.

"You may take off the blindfold, Miss Maxwell."

She did. Oh-oh. She was in a bedroom. A familiar-looking place she shouldn't be in. Calmly she looked at the man sitting on the bed.

"I don't see the need to waste my whole day just to bring me here," she said, folding her arms. "You could have just given me the address."

It was, after all, du Scheum's bedroom. The man on his bed, however, wasn't Pierre.

All day, while following the instructions in the special delivery package, she'd had the feeling that she was being watched. The walk down the Vietnam Memorial trail to the Washington Monument. The little tour given by the ATF agent. Walking in and out of the Pentagon. By afternoon her scheduled stop was at the Naval Research Laboratory at the edge of D.C. She walked through the specific areas inside the facility, a vast research base for technological development of maritime applications. All very interesting choices of places.

Then, following the map, she went out the other exit, and two men had approached her and very politely asked for her to follow along sans her yellow sportster. They were armed, too, of course, their weapons protruding threateningly under their jackets.

Why the elaborate, roundabout way to meet? She didn't think it was just to show her D.C.'s historic and tourist sites. She started to go over all the details.

His choice of meeting place was also telling. The man was ego-driven, needing to prove something to her. He looked familiar. Mid-forties, almost nondescript in appearance. Sandy hair, brown eyes, too pale to be an outdoorsman. In fact he was gaunt-looking, with shadows under his deep-set eyes, as if he spent too much time staring at screens. Except for his eyes, he wasn't exactly how she thought a traitor would look.

Despite his deceptively mild looks, his eyes had a malevolent glitter in them. Marlena was sure they had met several times before, but how was it she couldn't remember him, especially with those eyes? Not an important player, she decided. With those looks, he easily receded into the background if he chose. He was waiting for some reaction from her. Everything he had done so far was calculated.

Showing her the city meant something. Blindfolding her. Being here of all places, in du Scheum's bedroom. He wanted to make a point to her. But she didn't have much time to a.n.a.lyze all this.

"You seem to be good friends with Pierre." She eyed her surroundings in reference.

"Ob-obviously n-not as well as you, my dear, since y-you recognize his bedroom." He spoke with a slight stutter, but he didn't seem nervous. "Aren't you going to ask me why I picked this place for our meeting?"

Marlena shrugged. "I'm here. I expect you will tell me before I leave."

His eyes narrowed as he leaned back against the richly embroidered pillows. "And wh-what if I am not allowing you to leave?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You hired me to negotiate a sale for you with my business contacts. Are you saying you don't have anything for me?" She lowered her voice. "I don't take kindly to having my time wasted." She suddenly recalled his name as she continued studying him. His eyes. Every time they had met, he wore tinted gla.s.ses. That was why he looked so odd. She added, "Nor do I think Pierre would want to see you in his bedroom, Mr. Cunningham, isn't it?"

"You remembered!" He sounded pleased. "I wasn't sure whether you would. You barely paid attention whenever we shook hands."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Won't you sit down? Or would you pr-prefer to join me here, on this bed?"

Marlena shook her head. Why did villains always act in such a cliche manner? So she answered with a boring cliche. "I never mix business with pleasure."

"In that case you wouldn't mind if I bring in our prisoner, would you?"

The door opened again, and this time Marlena blinked. There was Stash, with a man standing behind him, prodding him into the room. Her heart skipped a beat, then started to dance a quick staccato. It hadn't been that long, but just the sight of him made her catch her breath.

She hadn't expected to see him again. And certainly hadn't expected the surge of happiness that burst forth from somewhere inside. How could a man make a room smaller by merely standing in it? Her eyes hungrily took in his appearance.

Although his hands appeared tied behind his back, a quick all-over scan reported that he wasn't injured. He looked so good in a black bomber jacket and black jeans. He was even wearing black cowboy boots. She was in the middle of a dangerous a.s.signment and all she wanted to do was run to him and kiss him hard on those sensual lips. His dark eyes met hers across the room, and to her disgust he grinned, a wolfish slash of a smile. She sighed. That was all she needed. Complications.

"Nothing to say?" Cunningham mocked. "Is this man your pl-pleasure or your business, Marlena? You have to decide."

"How did you get him into this?" she asked, putting on a disinterested expression.

"He was following you all day, so I thought I would bring him to you. You're the expert here-didn't you know you were being followed?"

Of course she did, but she had thought it was Tess or the men after her. Certainly not Stash. He grinned devilishly, as if daring her to admit she was happy to see him! "People follow me all the time. That doesn't mean you have to capture them for me, Cunningham."

"Please, call me William."

Marlena wanted to call him something else, but right now she had to think quickly. This man was more dangerous than she had thought. And he had something up his sleeve. She could sense the danger around her. She turned her back to Steve and focused all her attention on William Cunningham.

"Okay, let's deal," she said.

Smiling, Cunningham laced his hands behind his head. "We have time. Your old lover won't be here for a while yet, if you're worried about interruption." His smile widened. "Ahhh, I see your b-boy toy here didn't like to hear about your past with du Scheum."

Marlena chose not to deny anything. She especially didn't want to glance Steve's way. "My past has nothing to do with our agreement."

Stash was a SEAL operative. He couldn't be captured that easily, so he must be there because he wanted to be. But first she needed time to gauge this man who had hired her for an exclusive sale.

She walked away from the bed, heading for the brocade love seats in the corner of the luxurious room. Sinking down into one of them, she sat with booted leg lounging nonchalantly over one arm, giving a picture of lazy indolence. She fingered the ta.s.sels on the small pillow by her. "Okay, I'm finally here, and all you have for me is a man. Anything else?"

Cunningham laughed and got off the bed. "You know, I really do like your style, Marlena. It's the first thing that drew me to you when I was looking around for someone to help me." He nodded at his man standing behind Steve. The man gave Steve a slight push toward Marlena. "Do you know why I chose you?"

Marlena answered in a bored rhetorical drawl, "No, why don't you tell me."

"A drink first, perhaps? Whiskey, wasn't it? I a.s.sure you I can make it better than your lackey."

The comment made her dart a quick look at Steve, who so far had remained silent. His eyes were alert, so he wasn't drugged or anything. He didn't react to the reference to the first night in her apartment, when he had attempted to make a drink for her. What was he thinking? She had never seen him docile, so she knew he was up to something.

Accepting the gla.s.s from William, she calculated the possibility of it being poisoned or drugged. But her dead body in Pierre du Scheum's house wouldn't be any good to William Cunningham at the moment. He still needed her to achieve his ends.

"It's not drugged," Cunningham told her, with a knowing gleam in his eyes. They clinked gla.s.ses. "To business, then pl-pleasure."

Marlena sipped, then glanced in Steve's direction again. Better try to find out what was going on with him. She crooked her brow inquiringly. "Can't live without me, can you, Stash?"

Cunningham interrupted before Steve could answer. "He obviously doesn't trust you, my dear."

"Oh?"

"Look at this and decide."

The older man snapped his fingers, and another a.s.sistant came in with a briefcase. Cunningham set it on the coffee table.

"First, let me make a formal introduction, my dear. I'm one of Pierre du Scheum's a.s.sociates in a s-subsidiary within du Scheum Industries. I head the department that does research with the government, some of which is highly sensitive." He pulled out a folder. "In fact, I make sen-sensitive information my business."

A boast. She could use that weakness.

Marlena took the file he proffered and leafed through it. She glanced back up at Steve, careful not to betray any emotions. His expression offered no clues about his feelings, either. How had Cunningham gotten hold of a report that was prepared by Stash?

Better attack before she was cornered, she decided. Carelessly flipping the folder back on the coffee table, she leaned back and took a swallow from her whiskey. "So what if I'm not the real Marlena? I've been doing well the last two years, haven't I?" She smiled challengingly at Cunningham. "Besides, I think I look better than the original Marlena, don't you agree? Those old faded photos the CIA boys took of her from her Berlin days were horrible."

Cunningham studied her with narrowed eyes. His stutter was more p.r.o.nounced. "Y-you don't s-seem afraid, but of course a woman like y-you can't fear m-much. But you must admit this makes you very s-sus-suspicious to me. You can be someone laying a trap, after all."

Marlena shrugged. "Look, I have two years in the game without you bothering me. You contacted me, remember?" Then she frowned. "Wait a minute. You were the one who hired Stash for me, remember? So you're setting me up! What are you talking about?"

The older man looked at both Marlena and Steve for a few seconds. "I didn't hire him. Mr. McMillan's team of CIA agents got hold of the man who was going to take care of all those details that you favor. As you know, they are very interested in your current activities."

"So why didn't you warn me?" demanded Marlena.

"Why should I? I knew ev-everything that was happening and if I can see everything, the better my control." Cunningham's light eyes gleamed triumphantly. "Which brings us back to the is-issue at hand. You were interrogated. Mr. McMillan found out things that exposed you. How come they let you go? Unless you cut a deal with them or you had been working with them all along."

"You fool!" Marlena stood up and stepped closer to the man sitting across from her. Something warned her he didn't like being told that he had made a mistake, and she ruthlessly exploited this suspicion. She wagged an accusing finger at him. "You allowed these guys in my apartment. You didn't warn me of any of this, even at Pierre's function the other night. I have to extricate myself from trouble, and now you dare accuse me of being on their side?"

To stress her point, she boldly stepped one leg on the low table, leaning closer, threateningly enough to have one of his men move forward, a hand going inside his suit for his weapon. Cunningham put up a hand to stop him. Marlena pretended not to notice, carrying on with her tirade. "You even tried to use me as a foil to kill off Pierre, didn't you? They were after me because of the attempt on Pierre's life, you idiot." She tossed a sarcastic glare at Steve. "I suppose I have you to thank for saving his life, since if he were dead now, I would still be in that hole being questioned. Well, say something!"

Oh, but his mermaid was magnificent. Steve stood there admiring the quick way she turned the tables on the enemy with mere words, establishing doubt without an ounce of fear. And she gave him the perfect opening to say something without sounding fake. Tess had told him that Marlena would try to feel out a situation before her next move and to wait for her prompting before giving her any clue. "You're welcome," he said, in the same sarcastic tone. "You can thank me later, darling."

She didn't show any sign that she got the hint that T. had sent him. "Harden put you up to it, didn't he? Following me to find proof." Marlena gave Cunningham an angry glare. "And your foolishness led him right to you. You're an idiot!"

"Enough!" Cunningham ordered sharply.

Marlena ignored the warning. "I'm not going to do business with you," she declared. "I only deal with professionals. And you, Mr. Cunningham, are obviously an amateur at this."

"You forget, I have your files here," Cunningham picked up the folder and slapped it against one hand. He was frowning, for the first time looking unsure of himself. "I can use this against you."

"And who's going to believe you? Anything can be faked these days." Marlena straightened up and zipped up her leather jacket. "I don't even believe you have anything to sell."

"Does the Project X Solar Aquabotics 2000 ring a bell? And believe me, my electronic re-resources are beyond your imagination. I can see and copy anything in Mr. McMillan's office."

Steve stopped his sharp intake of breath. Man, she was good. She had that idiot boasting without thinking, which was exactly what Tess said Marlena's main job was. Get information, record it.

Project X-S-BOT. He tried to remember what Hawk had told him. Hawk sometimes worked with a very covert SEAL team that was part of the Naval Warfare Development Group. Steve had thought of joining his cousin there at one time.

Hawk had mentioned a new solar robotics project called Project X-S-BOT when the network news reported that a very important laptop had disappeared during a meeting between top scientists and politicians. Project X-S-BOT had technology that harnessed solar robotics and satellite technology in military espionage. Hawk and Steve had speculated over what was in the missing laptop that had the whole naval scientific community in a big brouhaha.

Must be something big, Hawk, Steve silently mocked. Was this what Tess meant about buying and selling at the party the other night? Was this the kind of deal that everyone was negotiating? Another world from his soldiering one, for sure.

It hadn't taken him very long to realize that every ent.i.ty of importance in this town was crazy. How could anyone live and work here and differentiate between white and black? From the night at du Scheum's party, he had concluded that both ends of the scale mingled together socially, almost daring the other side to catch them at their own game. No wonder he couldn't tell which side Marlena worked for.

Even now he had no proof, apart from what Tess had told him. Yet he willingly went along with her plans because she had told him Marlena was in danger. He watched her now, in her element, walking the edge of a perilous situation, and understood why this woman was the way she was.

She wasn't someone who played a role; she had to be the very person she was now. She had been living and breathing Marlena Maxwell for two years, so it was no wonder her act convinced him. However, he recalled the few instances when something had kindled in the depths of those remarkable blue eyes, something soft and vulnerable that never failed to give him a swift kick in the gut. He promised himself that he would peel past this layer to find that woman somehow. Later. After this "let the guy tell all first" stuff.

He himself preferred some good old-fashioned a.s.s kicking, but as Tess had pointed out to him earlier, one had to find out whose b.u.t.t to kick first. So he had gone along with her plan. Like the woman in front of him, Tess was more than she seemed, with extensive knowledge of covert activities. Steve didn't think he could be surprised anymore, what with her getup earlier and the smooth way she changed from one person into another. There was no doubt now that he was dealing with a very well-trained ent.i.ty.

He had even let her dress him up like some Mafia cowboy. Marlena would look closer, she had said. He had scowled at a certain item he had to wear. He hoped she noticed it, all right.

He studied this William Cunningham character, who looked nothing like any of the tough war-worn antagonists he had faced. This guy didn't even look intimidating; he didn't need to, with the two men in the room and the two outside the door.

Being in du Scheum's residence came as a surprise. Why did Cunningham choose to bring Marlena here to meet him? He returned his attention to the conversation, even as he subtly loosened the knots behind his back. An old SEAL trick-a small razor blade was easier to hide than a big knife, and sometimes handier.

"The missing laptop from the Progressive Solar Robotics Technology meeting at the Naval Research Lab," Marlena was saying to Cunningham. "That was in all the papers for a while. You have it?"

"It was surprisingly easy to just pick up a laptop and leave. Everyone has a laptop these days. Security is lax at the NRL," Cunningham sneered.