

HEART OF S.T.O.N.E.

by

### Tess O'Connor

In this first book, Geoff and Carrie meet at a Fall student/faculty dance to introduce the new school year. Unbeknownst to Geoff, Carrie has joined the faculty of this elite Long Island college - and he isn't happy about it. Had he known she was even being considered, he would have denied her appointment, which had nothing to do with her qualifications. Geoff tries to distance himself, but of course has no control. He never did.

Carrie has her own agenda. Find out who killed her husband and protect her family above all else. She applies for the position of English Professor on the recommendation of an acquaintance in the CIA. She knows Trevor was also with the CIA and if it means using him to accomplish her goal, so be it. While she admires and begins to like Geoff, her children's welfare supersedes any loyalty she might have to him.

The two develop a strained friendship and mutual respect until all hell breaks loose. Carrie is attacked (more than once) and Geoff fears she is jeopardizing her entire family. He knows who is responsible and forms a tentative alliance with Carrie to thwart STONE and its leader.

From New York to Washington, from the CIA to the White House, Geoff and Carrie begin what will become a long, convoluted road to the Heart of STONE.
Prologue

"I'll be a sonovabitch," said Phil Savage with his head buried in his newspaper.

"Again?" asked his friend, not yet bothering to glance from his own reading of the financial page. "What's the matter....Wrigley getting lights?" It wasn't the first or the last time that idea had been proposed and with every announcement, Phil objected vehemently. When it did happen several years later, Phil was personally affronted. He was a romantic despite his profession and Geoff ribbed him about the contrast. Geoff didn't think Wrigley Field should have lights either, but he wasn't as passionate as his friend, in more ways than lighting a baseball diamond.

They sat back in their chairs as the waitress in the Bitter End, a cozy Greenwich bar, placed their drinks in front of them. "Careful, Sandy," Trevor cautioned with a wink. "He's gonna be a sonovabitch today."

"He stiff you for the tab again, Geoff," she asked.

"How'd you know?" He gave her one of his heart-stopping grins.

"'Cause he paid last week."

"Thanks, luv," Phil said not interested in the banter. His mind was on the article in the paper. Geoff hadn't read that section yet, having just gotten off a plane.

"Wrigley Field," Geoff confided to Sandy. She nodded her understanding and left for the next table.

"You remember Steve Courtney, don't you?" Phil asked Geoff.

"Vaguely." And to avoid further questioning, asked, "They finally clear him?"

They both knew the probability of that. "Why do you ask such dumb questions?"

"'Cause my IQ's preceded by a decimal point, "Geoff shot back. "You went to his funeral didn't you?"

"Yeah," Phil nodded. "And if his wife doesn't have enough shit coming down on her with his being killed and then labeled a traitor," he looked across at Geoff, "which, of course, they didn't neglect to include in this wonderful piece of journalism," he spat, "her little girl's in the hospital."

"I'm sure you're going to tell me why." Trevor tried not to sound too interested, and succeeded. Inwardly, his stomach pounded, but not so Phil or anyone else would notice. Although Phil was a trusted friend, he was still with the Agency and as vulnerable as anyone else in life. He also didn't like the Agency being referred to as, "The Company" as many called it. Too pretentious. And Trevor was anything but pretentious.

"Details are sketchy, but from what the kid's brother says, someone nearly ran her over. Didn't even see her. Her brother pushed her out of the way but shoved her into a brick wall and knocked her out."

"Maybe he's lying and wanted to knock off his sister."

Phil chuckled. "You're an asshole, Trevor."

"Usually."

"Poor kid probably feels like shit."

"Probably has a helluva headache."

Phil snickered. "The brother. Won the war but lost the battle."

"Unless she dies."

"The answer I'd expect from a mathematician. Says she's stable and probably be released tomorrow."

"That's why the brother feels like shit."

"You're hopeless." Phil said laughing and threw out another epithet at his friend.

"So's your crusade for Wrigley Field." He'd learned enough.

"I hope and bet it rains the night they do it." It did.

Sandy came to the table again. "Another round?"

"No thanks, darling," Phil answered. "I gotta be getting home."

Geoff reached for his wallet and extracted a twenty. "Oh Geoff," Sandy said. "You'll never believe it. You know that foundation, FYF, you told me about?" A company known as _Future_.

"Um hm." It was a children's foundation that funded scholarships, children's hospitals, underprivileged children's housing, camps, and nearly every organization connected with children. Its theme song was, "You'll Never Walk Alone" by the Righteous Brothers. During a fund raising campaign, a sixty-second spot focusing on children striving for a better place featured that song in voice over sung by Geoff Trevor. It raised a record one million dollars for the organization in a twenty-four hour period.

"I sent my son's scholarship application to them and he got it!" Sandy was so excited that she pocketed the twenty. "A full scholarship to the high school and college of his choice."

"Good for him," Geoff smiled and held out his hand for the change.

"Oh, sorry." And she was. She reached in her pocket, but added, "I like it better when Phil isn't a sonovabitch."

Geoff and Phil laughed as she handed him the change and left the table. Trevor took the ten and left her four dollars. "You're such a tight bastard, Trevor," Phil teased.

"That's almost 67 goddamn percent. What's tight about that?"

"So if the bill were..."

"Sixty, would I leave forty?" Geoff finished the progression. "Hell no. Probably twenty-five and there's nothing tight about that either." He put the ten back in his wallet.

"What's that ten going to do for you? Rather, would you like to know what it could do for her?"

"Not really." Trevor stood and Phil followed him towards the door.

Ignoring him, Phil went on. "It could be a steak dinner for her and her kid. Or more likely a pair of shoes for him at some schlock house."

Trevor snickered. "Jesus Christ, Phil, you're breaking my heart."

Savage grinned. "Thought so." Trevor chuckled. Most knew that Trevor contributed to FYF (no one knew what the initials meant), but only one other person, and not Phil Savage, knew that Geoff Trevor _was_ _Future._

Trevor went home and made two phone calls. First as a parish priest calling to learn of six-year old Molly Courtney's condition. A slight concussion. She would stay in the hospital overnight for observation. His next call was to his "boss". He avoided a meeting because he didn't want much significance placed on his interest. Ignoring it would have the same effect. "Was it you or Rhinehart?"

"A little amateurish don't you think?"

"Same question."

"Maybe someone's trying to do what you should have done."

"I told you - I want no part of that."

"You may not have a choice."

"My choice is as follows: Lay off or I'll kill the whole goddamn family."

Both knew he meant it.
Chapter One

In life there are meetings

Which seem like fate.

Owen Meredith

He had never had a moral sense of right and wrong. Just a logical one - an eye for an eye - like the gun in his hand. Morality didn't exist in his framework in the accepted manner that it did in the general population. Not much else existed in the genre of social codes and mores. STONE did that to him. That was not the reason he hated STONE. He had been used. Others had been used. And no one had any recourse for equal retribution which was his motto, and one reason for the gun he carried.

He was not a vindictive man in the sense that vindication often required an emotional human element which, throughout his life he had not possessed. He was programmed not to love, not to hate, not to feel - and programmed well. But something went wrong. He loved children and dogs. In his opinion, they were honest. He was indifferent to everything and nearly everyone else. People in his life, especially women - of which there were many - confused this indifference with an abject coldness. It excited some. The ones it didn't, didn't matter.

He saw the building in Gramercy Park with all its contradictions known only to a select few. It was an imposing structure in an area known as "The Block Beautiful" with its various styles of architecture, this one a stuccoed remodel in the early 20th Century by Frederick Sterner. The façade, the furnishings of the Renaissance period exuded a stately class. The modern conveniences for invading one's privacy such as hidden microphones, well-camouflaged video devices, skin sensitive chairs for detecting the slightest alteration in body temperature and perspiration, the GOLD (Gem Ophthalmic Lie Detector), and SARD (Sodium Amytol Resisting Drug) were the antithesis of its obvious projection. The man inside that house was its most blatant contradiction; yet his outward and elegant manner and appearance was as false and misleading as the house itself. This man he actually hated.

Trevor had a clear picture of that man's face and was disturbed by his feeling of hatred. He usually did not show the signs of such a feeling. But the gun in his hand, pointed directly at the man's heart, gave him a feeling of peace he had never known. It had to be done. He looked dispassionately at this face and saw it disappear from his mind. An extraneous force had caused it. One outside this recurrent dream. For the briefest moment he couldn't identify the disruption, then recognized a familiar voice. One he liked. One to which he attached the label "friend'. One of his few.

It had not always been that way. There was a period when Professor Carol (Carrie) Courtney would never have casually entered Professor Geoffrey Trevor's office, smacked him on the backside and said, "Up Van Winkle, time's a wastin'."

As a matter of fact, Carol Courtney, Ph.D. of English and Music and Full Professor of both, was initially contemptuous of Geoffrey Trevor, Ph.D. of Applied Mathematics and Physics. On one point they did agree, however. They considered their Ph.D.'s just another few thousand dollars worth of paper and rarely, if ever, used the title, "doctor". "Professor" was more acceptable. They had earned their degrees, worked damned hard for them. But after all, "a hooker works equally hard at her job and doesn't call herself, 'Hooker Hannah'." Admittedly the analogy was trite, but it served its purpose when Carrie explained to Geoff her reason for not using the title - at a level he could appreciate.

Carrie probably would never have spoken more than a greeting to Geoff if it hadn't been for STONE (Security Triad of National Emendation). Must have taken hours to come up with the words to fill the acronym, she thought. The mentality of the organization was represented by the individuals within its hallowed walls. Each person's name - code name - was a precious or semi-precious stone. The Director's name, logically, was Diamond, the 'headstone'. Under him were the next degrees of hardness such as emerald, ruby, sapphire, and included semi-precious stones. The organization's first director had an obsession with stones and lived and worked around that fixation. No first names, no Mr., Miss, Mrs., or Ms. Consequently, Ruby or Pearl could be a man, and Peridot or Bloodstone could be a woman. The "Triad" of the organization, known as GEM was self-explanatory. STONE had three functions: Government; state, national and local police forces including all military branches; Espionage; all intelligence organizations such as CIA, NSA, FBI, NATO, and Military Intelligence; and Mitigation; assassinations and mediations which included all of the above. And Geoffrey Trevor.

There was no record of this organization anywhere and leaks or defections were dealt with severely, usually by death, depending on the degree of infraction. Draftees were generally taken from college campuses. Every recruit was at least a Phi Beta Kappa, Rhodes Scholar, and/or MENSA with an average IQ of 150 indicating the elite and small membership. All members were ruthless, guiltless, 'abnormally' stable human beings. None of them was married or engaged in sentimental or, heaven forbid meaningful relationships. Friendships did exist outside the organization, however, but close friends were uncommon and rarely included more than a single person, and generally of the same sex. Trust within the organization was paramount, but this did not necessitate friendship. No one vied for another's job or position because each job was specialized and there was no class structure. There were fifty-two (facets in a diamond) people in this little society and only that number knew of STONE's existence. But not even the members themselves knew _all_ of the other members. This was for damage control on the off chance one was broken or turned. Several of STONE's people doubled for other intelligence agencies, particularly the CIA. Many solved cases of these units were unexplainable; but considering the satisfaction guaranteed, were rarely questioned. The members also knew who the next 'headstone' would be - Geoffrey Trevor. Other than Diamond himself, Trevor was the only one who knew the other fifty-one people in STONE, including himself.

"Whatimizit?" Geoff asked through a labored yawn as he stretched from head to toe, waking every nerve and muscle in his body, although he always woke instantly and completely.

Carrie was sitting on the edge of his couch watching this display. "It's 4:45. Time for that monthly-all-campus-informal-faculty-coffee-chit-chat," she rattled off without taking a breath and proud of herself for having done it. It was actually a monthly staff meeting they had downgraded and both hated. To Carrie, fond of alliteration, it was a preening, posturing, and (self) promoting political waste of time. To Geoff, not given to alliteration, it was a bull-shit-chat waste of time.

Geoff put his arms behind his head not intending to move. "Play nooky with me?"

"Geoffrey!" She slapped his abdomen and got a responding grunt and seductive grin.

"I'll settle for hooky then."

That grin almost made her reconsider 'nooky'. "We skipped the last four. It might behoove us to see if we're still employed."

"Tell you something..." he began.

"I know. You don't care," she finished for him and mussed his thick nearly black hair.

Not one given to looks or vanity, Geoff ignored the mussing but went on with his thought. "My exact words are..."

She stopped him again, this time with her hand over his mouth. "I know your exact words."

He did the natural thing and licked her palm assuming she would recoil. She did and he said his piece. "Prude. Stop interrupting me."

"Then come." She knew it as soon as she said it. And he wouldn't pass it up.

He raised his brows. "All by myself?" She rolled her eyes and drew a laugh from Geoff. Carrie wasn't embarrassed, just annoyed that she was careless. He sat up swinging his legs over the side of the couch knocking her to the floor. It was routine. Carrie rested her arm on the couch and her chin on her hand.

"Geoffrey, we go through this every month..."

This time he interrupted. "And you always end up there on the floor and we both agree to skip the shit-chat and run off together. So let's dispense with the next few lines of dialogue and get the hell out of here. Take the kids to see "ET"." He got up, took her hand, and pulled her to a standing position. "You climb out of your hole today?" he asked noticing she was taller than usual. Carrie was an even five feet to his six-two. He looked down at her shoes. "Jesus, how do you walk in those things?"

"Not well, but they make me feel superior." She measured herself against him, at the same time wiping the hand he had licked on his Egyptian cotton shirt. He just grinned at her ploy but chuckled at her comment. Carrie had never had an identity crisis in her life. Geoff put his arms around her waist. "One of these days, Carol Courtney, you're going to come crawling to me on those short, but perfect legs of yours and I'm going to turn you down flat." He grinned an added, "Perhaps not so flat."

She ignored the 'short but perfect' grammar correction which was, after all, a compliment to her, and went straight to, "You my dear Trevor, would be satisfied with knotty pine."

"Ooo, painful visual." He winced and went to his adjoining bathroom to splash water on his face throwing back, "Maybe I will come all by myself." He looked in the mirror and felt a peculiar warmth at her image behind him.

"Hung over?" Carrie asked although she had never seen him drunk.

"At this time of day?"

"You didn't seem to know the time of day."

Geoff wiped his face with a hand towel and eyed his friend. "And there was a time you wouldn't give it to me."

"Nor you me." She looked at those eyes she once termed as unreadable depths of cobalt. Now they were a little softer, still deep, still a beautiful cobalt, and still unreadable. Most of the time. But there were times...

They smiled at each other in the mirror, reminiscent and guarded smiles. It was something they rarely discussed until it became necessary. It was impossible and not of their making. Each secretly hoped that one day it would be over, but it had already lasted three years and there didn't seem to be an end in sight. Looking at each other, they both seemed to be remembering when they first met.

Fall semester opened with a faculty-student dance. Trevor showed up, "Tan, beautiful and alone," a colleague told Carrie.

"You're right, Jesse," Carrie said, "not bad." Definitely an understatement for the specimen who had just entered. "Just your requisite tall dark and handsome god," Carrie said lightly. She didn't feel light. This man could control her destiny.

"A walking advertisement for testosterone," Jesse agreed.

"But is he smart?" Carrie joked. "So that's the infamous Geoff Trevor." Slow easy breath.

"I can't believe you've never met. You're in the same stratosphere of society."

"Big stratosphere. I know of him, of course. And we have mutual friends." And she blushed at the memory of what one of those mutual friends had told her of him.

Across the room Geoff was recovering from having seen Carrie. "You know her?"

"Who?" Geoff asked a colleague, Ross Caruthers.

"Carol Courtney."

"No, who's Carol Courtney?" My worst nightmare.

"The ghost I thought you had just seen."

"My ghost just went to the head. Excuse me a minute, will you, Ross?" He left for the restroom and straight to the sink. "Jesus Christ, Ffoeg, what the hell is she doing here, and what the fuck do I do now?" he asked his faithful alter ego.

" _Take two breaths and call me in the morning. Evaluate first. Go."_

Trevor joined the dance, glanced around the room nodding and greeting people. "Find your ghost, Geoff?"

"Hunh?" He turned to Caruthers. "Oh, yeah. Wrong ghost. But I could have sworn..." He shook his head in wonder. "The eyes go first." He looked out on the dance floor and smiled as Carrie did a pirouette.

"They're working pretty well now," Ross observed.

"She's good. Who is she? New grad student?" All logical questions.

"That's Carol Courtney."

"There's that name again. New faculty isn't she?" He was angry but didn't show it. Trevor usually had major input on hiring any faculty. Why not her?

"Yes. English and Music," Caruthers was saying.

"Doesn't look old enough." Forever petite, forever young, he thought.

"Our age." Geoff let it drop. Caruthers was five years Trevor's senior. "Well, your age," he added and Geoff smiled. He chuckled when he saw Carrie laugh at herself for a move she was trying to learn from a student. "Great gams," he said. She was in a simple blue paisley skirt with solid blue matching silk blouse. It moved freely as she danced. She's actually having fun, he thought and felt a twinge he couldn't identify. He turned his attention elsewhere. Enough of Carol Courtney for now.

Caruthers wouldn't let him forget. Goddamn matchmaker, Trevor thought when he turned at the sound of his name being called. "Mrs. Carol Courtney, I'd like you to meet Geoff Trevor." He noted the short pixie auburn hair that only she made classic. Carrie took his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Geoff." You can do this.

"Pleasure's all mine." She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

"Not entirely, but you may claim half if you'd like." I know that voice, she thought.

He laughed sincerely, "Thank you," and bowed slightly. "I saw you dancing and you looked as if you were having a good time."

She tilted her head to the side, a gesture he would come to know well. "Why shouldn't I?"

Damn, she's quick. No sense denying it. "These things are so often quite boring."

You're here, she thought, but said, "I'm too new to be bored." Where have I heard him?

"Somehow I get the feeling you wouldn't allow yourself to get bored."

"I wish I could get that feeling." She rolled her eyes with the comment and he laughed again. Her eyes were so expressive and she knew how to use them.

"Are you always so polite?"

"Not as often as I should be," she answered. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't correct Ross when he introduced you as Mrs. Carol Courtney. Shouldn't it be, 'Mrs. Husband's-name Courtney'?" She smiled and shrugged it off. "I'm sorry," he said. "You caught me. I was fishing." And he hated it.

But she fielded it well. "A more educated query than most. Technically speaking, it should have been Mrs. Stephen Courtney." Technically it was debatable but she wasn't getting into that.

"So what do you teach, Mrs. Stephen Courtney?" he asked quickly.

"English and Music Appreciation."

"Very different subjects."

"The English was their choice, the Music mine. How about you?"

"Math and Physics." Come on, though we haven't met, you know damn well who I am.

"Ooo, I'm impressed," Oooo? Good move, English professor.

"Really?" I know why I'm playing this game. Why are you?

"I never had a math or physics prof who looked like you." She caught herself. "I mean, glasses thick as coke bottles, ten years behind style, and no sense of humor."

"Thank you...I think." She smiled and he couldn't help but return it. "And I never had an English teacher who looked like you." Carrie grinned expectantly and he laughed. "Never mind."

"Something like, she had at least reached puberty?"

"Hell, they'd all gone through menopause."

Carrie laughed and he loved that laugh. "All? You took more than the required one course? A math major?" Teaching didn't pay for that thousand dollar linen blazer, she knew.

"As little as possible, I'll admit. But probably more than you took math or physics."

"Should I believe you?"

"My middle name is Walden..E-N."

"That only says one or both of your parents liked Thoreau, not you."

"Quite true." He smiled easily. A very practiced social smile, she noted. "As a matter of fact, I'm not all that fond of him."

"That I believe." You are gorgeous, Geoffrey Walden Trevor, I can trust you, but...

He held up a finger to stay her. "But only as a result of having to explain my middle name. What's yours?" As if he didn't know.

"Elizabeth."

"I'll bet you dislike the Queen."

"Not as a result of my middle name, but my Irish ancestry." Her turn to hold up a finger. "And you assume I don't like my middle name."

"Does anyone?"

"I do." She lowered her voice. "But I'll tell you a secret." He smiled and couldn't help but lean in to the conspiratorial tone. "I don't like Elizabeth Barrett Browning." He smiled. "And it has nothing to do with my middle name."

He laughed aloud. "God, you're a delight," and he caught himself for that one. He was grateful for the interruption.

"Professor Courtney?" They turned to see a student who looked no older than Carrie. "Would you?" she asked politely.

"Of course, Judy." She looked at Geoff. "Will you excuse me?" He nodded and she left for the stage. She walked to the microphone, turned to the band and nodded. This seemed to be rehearsed, Trevor thought.

"She has a lovely voice," Caruthers said coming up next to Trevor. Carrie sang, "The Rose" and Caruthers talked. Geoff would rather have heard her uninterrupted. "Do you remember reading about her husband?"

"Not really." He didn't want to talk about it.

"He's the man they falsely accused of being a traitor."

"Falsely?" Geoff asked. Not many people agreed with that, particularly the powers that be - at least publicly. Caruthers either had a thing for Carrie or he knew something Trevor didn't. Geoff believed the former.

"Of course. It was a set up, didn't you know?" Geoff shook his head. Caruthers obviously didn't know what Geoff did for a living. "And you didn't hear it from me."

"Of course not." He didn't care where Caruthers got the information. He already had an idea. Caruthers seemed to be privy to certain things and Geoff reciprocated with a financial tip here or there. It made Caruthers feel it was a fair exchange, except that Geoff didn't tell him anything the man couldn't get out of the Wall Street Journal or other financial publications - or at least deduce from them. Trevor didn't like him. He was pompous and supercilious. He was also a good teacher which was why he was hired. He tried to play the politics too much, even where they didn't exist.

Trevor looked up at Carrie. By the time she had finished the song, she had tears in her eyes. She received an avid applause from the crowd and took Caruthers' extended hand to help her off the stage. "That song mean something to you, Carol," he asked.

How rude, Trevor thought and tried a save. "Yes, please, Professor Courtney, tell us in 250 words or less," he teased.

"Two-fifty or less?" she queried with a tilt of her head. He nodded once. "Not only does my nationality run all over my face, it forbids me from expounding on anything in less than 500 words."

Geoff chuckled. "Consistent with your emerald." He pointed to the three carat emerald-cut emerald sided by two trillion-cut diamonds, all set in platinum, on her right hand. "Supposed to be good at arguing."

"And if I put the diamonds in my mouth, I will speak the truth," she added.

"Only if you're a liar."

"Irishman usually are."

"I'm sure it isn't limited to the Irish."

"So you agree that we are."

He laughed. "Shit. I can't believe I fell for that one." A man steeped in logic. "Is this where I say, 'Some of my good friends are Irish.'"

"At least you didn't say 'some of my best' friends. You did take a course or two."

"I won't let you catch me twice in one night."

"Geoff," Caruthers again. "Maybe you and Carol could do a duet."

"You sing?" Carrie asked him with genuine surprise in her eyes.

He grinned. "Would I redeem myself if I said Irish tenor?"

"Only if you could prove it." And she knew that with that deep voice, he was no Irish tenor. "And I don't want you hurting yourself on my account." She was stalling and they both knew it.

"Carol?" Leave it up to Caruthers.

"We've Got Tonight," Geoff said and Carrie narrowed her eyes. He grinned, "The song."

"Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton?" He nodded. "Only if you do Sheena," she said.

He didn't know why did it. He grabbed her hand saying, "Come on, let's try it."

"Can we practice first?"

"Perfectionist aren't you? Can't you just wing it?"

"You can afford to flub up. You teach math and physics."

"Good point."

"Professor Trevor?" Judy again. "Would you do, 'Power of Love'?"

"The one by Air Supply?" Carrie asked the student and she nodded. "I'd love to hear that myself. One of my favorites." Doesn't favorite imply only one?

Carrie loved his voice but noticed there was no emotion. Only stage presence. He sang the words, that's all. To someone who cried at Casey Kasem's long distance dedications it was important. The crowd liked it, especially the female contingency. And then she remembered where she had heard his voice. _Future_. The children's foundation. He did the voice-over songs. Carrie wondered if that were all. She even contributed more based on that promotion.

"Now if you could stand a little adjusting," she heard Trevor saying, "I'd like to bring up Professor Courtney and we can give it a whirl." Everyone agreed and Trevor held out his hand - and a challenging grin with it.

"So much for a good point," she said and took the stage beside him. She turned to the crowd and said, "Quite a few adjustments."

"What key?" Geoff asked her.

"An octave lower than Sheena," she told the band. They played around with keys and tempo. "Let's just keep it fairly close to the record and not try anything fancy yet," Carrie suggested.

Geoff sat on the stage and began the song. He set the mood and tempo with his introduction. Carrie joined in smoothly and they did a fairly good rendition. No reason for Carrie to hide her head in the sand when she went to class. When they sang, "'Why don't we stay?'" Geoff bowed and handed her a rose. "Not bad," he whispered.

God, what a smile, she thought.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought. He took her hand an escorted her down the stairs. She can't weigh a hundred pounds, he guessed. But a well-packaged hundred.

"I'm convinced," Caruthers said to them.

"Of what?" Carrie asked innocently. This man annoyed her but she didn't show it.

Dummy, Trevor thought. He laughed, "Apparently she isn't, Ross." Ross also chuckled. They accepted kudos and congratulations and Geoff realized that Carrie knew exactly what Caruthers had meant - that they would spend the night together. Neither would have minded nor been disappointed, but neither made the move and both knew it.

They were going to the punch bowl when a student asked Carrie to dance. She obliged readily. She was slightly uncomfortable with Trevor at the moment. The student was an experienced dancer and Carrie followed him easily. Geoff, seeing this, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"You okay, Geoff?"

He turned to the voice, a little angry that he had missed her approach. "Oh, hi, Jesse." He knew why. "Yeah, fine. Just a rotten headache. Jet lag, I think." Shut up, stupid.

"Damn." Jesse was a fellow physics professor who didn't fit the stereotype either. He smiled at the memory and took Jesse's hand. "May I?"

"My pleasure."

"Not entirely," he heard himself say. Jesus. They went on the dance floor and did fairly well themselves. Jesse was quite accomplished in modern dance and spotted Carrie who was equally as good. "Carol," she called. "Let's show these young wimps how it's really done."

Carrie glanced at Geoff who said, "I'm comfortable with the role."

She chuckled and thought, you should be, you're hardly a wimp.

Jesse went to the DJ and requested, "Flashdance." Any dancer knows the routine and many embellish it. "Let's leave out the dive roll," Carrie requested.

"And the spin," Jesse added. They weren't quite dressed for either. They complimented each other very well. Carrie's gymnastic ability was obvious and Jesse's dance stronger. At the end, Carrie ended up near Geoff.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I can't breathe." He helped her up. "Excuse me while I get my tank." She and Jesse left for the restroom. "I'm not sure who's the wimp," Carrie told her.

"Tell me about it," Jesse was also gasping. "But God it was fun."

Carrie laughed. "It was, wasn't it?"

They sat at the mirror making repairs and regaining their breath. Neither task took long, as both were in excellent shape. "So now what do you think of Geoff?"

Carrie had expected the question. "Gorgeous," she answered obviously.

"Brilliant, loaded, and a lot of fun."

"He has a rep, hasn't he?"

"So have I. You will too if you stay single very long. What's it hurt for a girl to have fun too?"

I wouldn't have cried at that song, Carrie thought. "Nothing. It wasn't a chauvinistic remark."

"I know. I just think he gets a bad rap."

"Not a womanizer?"

"Not at all. Don't get me wrong, he gets around. Somewhat of a player." When Carrie lifted a brow, Jesse conceded, "Okay, quite the player, but not in the sense the word is used. Women are like men to him with one added benefit. We're really equal as far as he is concerned. He's just a confirmed bachelor."

"So are you."

"It's why we get along so well. He won't let anyone get to him, male or female." She shrugged. "And maybe there's nothing to know. You know rumors."

"Are you matchmaking, Jesse?"

"Suggesting, Carol. Have fun."

Later in the evening when Carrie left to call her parents to check on her children, she found Trevor doubled over in what she thought was pain. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing. "Are you choking?" she asked.

He turned, caught, and nodded. "Do you want me to do the Heimlich?"

He nodded again. Carrie stepped behind him and performed the maneuver. He spat something out of his mouth including, "Shit," then took a cautious deep breath.

"Sit down," Carrie instructed. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"Thanks." He sounded hoarse. When she left, he closed his eyes at the pain in his head. "What the fuck is it?" he asked himself. He wasn't sure what he saw except dancers. He shook his head and just as suddenly, the pain stopped. He was taking slow welcomed deep breaths when Carrie returned. He drank the water in gulps.

"Take it easy," she cautioned. "You don't want to drown."

He smiled at her. "Jesus. I can't believe it." He put his hands on his temples again as if to rub out the residual pain.

"Want my pearls?" He looked confused. "Putting a pearl in your ear gets rid of a headache."

"I'd need the whole goddamn strand." Carrie laughed as he took another cautious breath. "Thanks, I owe you."

"Your beneficiaries probably won't be too thankful." He laughed at the irony and Carrie didn't understand. It was cute but didn't deserve a five-minute guffaw. "I guess you had to be there," she said feeling left out.

"You are," Geoff answered and laughed again.

"My face on backwards or something?"

"I'm sorry. Adrenaline, I suppose." The Courtney Foundation was one beneficiary.

"What did you not swallow?"

"That lousy Rumaki. Want me to get it?"

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"Probably tastes better second time around." Carrie screwed up her face at the thought. "But not much worse."

"Will you stop," she chided.

"What's going on out here?" Caruthers came in the hall.

"Carol just pissed off my beneficiaries," Geoff explained.

"You had to be there," Carrie explained to Caruthers who didn't even bother to ask.

"We're getting up a game. You interested?"

"Sure." They both agreed. And both regretted it.

A group of eight played bridge until the wee hours and adjourned for post-mortem discussion at an all-night pancake house. Carrie left for her car at three ayem with Geoff as her escort. She walked to her Range Rover and Geoff watched the car pass behind her, blocking her from view. When he saw her again, she was on the ground. He ran out to her and found her holding her head. "What happened?" he asked and winced when he saw the tears flowing down her cheeks from the pain.

"That car must have spat a rock out from its tires and caught me in the head." She tried to make light of it because she was instantly suspicious. Was that because she was picking up the same feeling from Geoff?

"Let me see." He didn't like the pounding in his stomach but ignored it for the moment. He parted her hair and saw the blood. "Ooo," he too tried to keep it light. "It looks more like a fuckin' boulder." He was more than just suspicious.

"God, Geoff, don't make me laugh." She tried to stop and got a bad pain for her failure.

Geoff took her hand. "Come on, let's get you inside." Carrie rose unsteadily and almost fell back to the ground before Geoff caught her. "Dizzy?"

"A little."

"Maybe we should get you to a hospital."

"No. Please. I'll be fine." Dammit! She hadn't wanted him involved.

"Yeah, I can tell." He opened her car door and guided her to the floor. "Head between your legs."

"That's all I need. More blood rushing to my head."

"I can put pressure on the bleeding. I'd rather not see you sprawled on the ground." He put a handkerchief on her head and she let out a yelp.

"Feels like glass," she explained.

"Will you let me take you to a hospital?"

"Look at it. Would you go?"

"What's that have to do with anything?" She didn't know. Geoff looked at the wound. "Needs to be debrided. What you feel is probably rock fragments."

"My brother is a doctor. I'll call him."

"Bullshit." He knew better. "Where is he? I'll take you."

He drove her to John Connor's apartment in Central Park West after calling him on the car phone. The doctor opened the door and took his sister's hands. "Look at me, Car." (pronounced care) She looked up at her brother. "Shit," he pronounced.

"Twelve years of medical experience and that's his diagnosis," Carrie quipped.

"Concussion?" Geoff asked the dark-haired man with those same navy blue Connor eyes.

"Probably. Can you sit her on the couch?"

"He's an alarmist," Carrie told Geoff.

"He's also a doctor."

"Not a good combination."

"Still has her sense of humor," Geoff told John as the doctor came in with a tray.

"Too bad." He stuck out his hand, "Hi, John Connor." They shook hands and John finished with his preparation, a plastic sheet on the couch and a cloth over that for Carrie. "Lay down and..."

"Lie down," his sister corrected. "Obviously he doesn't use the word much."

John laughed. "I can see how this is going. Put your head on the sheet. I'm going..."

"I'm not one of your kids, Johnny. I know what you're going to do."

"Then shut up and let me do it. You need a few threads too." He numbed the area with a local anesthesia and cleaned the wound.

"I hope you're wearing gloves," Carrie said. John flashed a hand in front of her face. "Are they new ones or ones you used on your last case?"

"Good question. But that virus only survives for four hours anyway."

"What time is it?" she joked. Trevor was laughing at the two of them.

"Too damn early for this nonsense," John answered more soberly. "What happened?"

"Geoff told you. A piece of rock spat out from under a tire and caught me."

"Didn't the bastard see you fall?"

Yes, Geoff thought; he made her fall. He answered, "Apparently not. I didn't get the plate either." Yes he did and he would check it. Probably to no avail.

"It was dark," Carrie added.

"Still is," John complained.

"What else were you doing at this hour?"

"Nothing you can remember," he shot back and Trevor laughed again.

"Gota hell, John Connor."

"Gotcha!"

"Not really. I'm just too polite to recite your shortcomings in front of a guest."

"Keep it up, Care-Bear, I have the needle and thread in my hands."

"Care-Bear?" Geoff managed through a chuckle.

"And you're probably sewing your hands together," Carrie said after a little time of silence from her brother. When he still didn't answer, she said. "He did sew his hands together. Have you finished yet?"

"Just have to sign it. You okay?"

"Yes. Why sign it, your work is obvious enough." She cast an aside to Geoff. "And they let him loose on children." John was in his second and last year of Pediatric Surgery residency.

"That's why you're so easy to do, pinhead. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Geoff?"

"No," he answered still chuckling.

"Aren't you the lucky one," John said.

"Aren't you fortunate?" Carrie said at the same time.

"English major," John scoffed. "I say lucky, she says fortunate."

"I try to broaden his vocabulary but only succeed in talking over his head."

"You can't even see over my head."

"But I can see through it."

"God," Geoff said. "My gut is killing me and my head aches."

"All her dates get headaches," John said.

"His last one got a migraine and she'd never had one before - or since."

"Speaking of which..." John began.

"Whom," Carrie corrected.

"Which," he corrected further. "You're going to have one helluva whopper." He stripped his gloves and dropped them on the tray. "I'll get you something. Geoff, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?"

"How about if I have something delivered," Trevor offered. He knew John didn't want to take time from his sister and Geoff wanted to keep on top of things as well.

"This time in the morning?" John asked. He held up a syringe. "Produce a cheek, kiddo."

"On second thought," Geoff said, "I'll go get it. What does anybody want?"

"I don't want Carrie to eat anything for awhile."

"John."

Her brother knew the tone and reached for the wastebasket. "Right here, honey." Carrie painfully lost her midnight meal and everything else she had consumed that day. "Damn."

"It's okay, sweetie. Let me give you a shot." That done, he flashed a light in her eyes. "I want some films."

"I'll take her," Geoff offered.

"I don't need to go," Carrie protested. "If I have a concussion, Mary can jiggle me every couple of hours." Geoff didn't know that Mary was one-half of a couple who lived with the Courtney family.

"Carrie," her brother started.

"Johnny, no. You wouldn't go."

"So?"

"Yet again, maybe you would. You're such a hypochondriac."

"Where are the kids?"

"With Mom and Dad."

"All right, but stay here today. I'm not going in."

"A few more kids get a reprieve."

"Don't start again," Trevor said then winced.

"You really have a headache, Geoff?" Connor asked.

Damned observant, Trevor noted. "Yeah, I do. Your sister saved my life last night, by the way." He explained what had happened.

"Caught her on a good day," John said and looked at his sister. "You're about 50-50 on the Heimlich now aren't you?"

"Better than your average and you get paid for it."

"Went to a pancake house, hunh?" John sat back from looking in the wastebasket.

"John!"

"Looks better this way."

"Good God, must be a male thing."

Geoff stood. "I'll go get coffee and donuts. I gotta get outa here."

After he left, John was much more solicitous of Carrie. He stroked her neck. "Really hurt?"

"A bit." she said through gritted teeth.

"Why did we just put on that little show and why are you trying to hide it from him? Was it his car?"

"No. He didn't even walk me all the way to my car. He just saw it happen."

"And you don't want him to think that maybe if he'd walked you etcetera, etcetera."

"It probably wouldn't have made a difference, but why take the chance with an innocent bystander?"

"You mean it wasn't innocent?"

"That's not what I mean. You'd feel bad if one of your dates, few as they may be, got hurt on a date. And he wasn't even my date. We all played bridge and Geoff was kind enough to get me out of a sticky situation and then this happens. If Ross had walked me to my car, I'd have him paying for a real doctor."

Trevor went to a phone booth. "Why for crissake?"

"You know what I want."

"Actually I don't. And I can't get it for you."

"Can't or won't?"

"Something's going on. My head is killing me."

"Describe it."

"Stabs of pain. Almost like flashbacks."

"Can you relate them to anything?" Trevor had been in Nam, after all.

"No."

"When did they start?"

"They've been infrequent until tonight. Carol Courtney caught me in the hall and I had to pretend I was choking. Her brother just caught me again." Geoff explained that situation. "I need to get checked."

"I'll set it up. How's your head now?"

"Residual pain. Nothing serious."

"Are you going to see her again?"

"I'm taking back some coffee and donuts, but after that, I don't plan to."

"Her husband..."

"I know about her fucking husband and I'm not getting involved. I told you." He hung up. His head hurt again.

Geoff found a much-subdued Carrie talking bridge hands with John. "And he claimed," she said astonished. "There was no way he could have known the Jack was on side without rubbernecking."

Geoff chuckled. "You talking about Ross?" He set his bundle on the coffee table.

She nodded but regretted it with a wince. "The hand we defended four hearts."

Trevor smiled and shrugged. "What the hell?" He took a swig of coffee, as did John.

"And I didn't get to thank you again, Geoff. I hate situations like that and didn't mean to get you involved."

"Not a problem. Help yourself to the donuts, John."

"Thanks." He took a plain donut. "Asshole?" he asked of Caruthers.

"Just a sycophant," Carrie said.

"Ass kisser," John clarified.

"I just said that."

"So did I. He after your money?" he teased.

"What makes you think he wasn't after my body?"

"I've seen your body."

"Your taste is in your pants."

"And my pants aren't the only ones that don't go for prepubescent girls."

Trevor hoped John wouldn't ask his opinion and turn this conversation into locker room talk. As much as John teased Carrie, he was very protective of her. Neither of them mentioned names and Geoff realized they wouldn't. At least not in front of anyone. Too much class for that, he saw. But he had just had another stab of pain.

"You know, for someone who got a 1600 on the SAT's, you'd think..."

"Ha! I knew it!" Geoff almost shouted. They had talked about it at the pancake house and Carrie wouldn't tell anyone what she got.

"Thanks, John. Tell him what you got?"

"Why? When I can brag about you."

"Sixteen, hunh?" Trevor teased.

"It doesn't mean she's smart," came the little brother. "She has a photographic memory and took 'em twice." He upgraded to a jelly donut and chased it with coffee.

Geoff roared. Carrie always gave the results of her first scores on any test because they were the truer scores, she had said. He also realized that she didn't like her brother revealing that little tidbit about her memory. He must have done it before, so Trevor assumed it was because of him. Why? Now he would definitely steer clear of her. "You must have been hell at spelling bees," he said.

"National champ," John bragged again. "But she only entered once because she didn't think it was fair. Maybe this knock on the head will make you mortal now."

"I should be so fortunate." She looked at John. "Lucky to you. And it's a curse at times, not a gift." She turned to Geoff. "And may I ask that you not mention it at school?"

Did she sense his suspicion or was he just paranoid? Nonetheless, he wouldn't take the chance of finding out. "Of course."

"Now we're even."

"And I'm being rude not letting you get your well-needed rest." He stood and John followed suit. Geoff took out a card. "Here's my private number if you need anything." He wrote his number on the back of his business card and handed it to John. Carrie started to get up, but Geoff leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. He winced. "Stay put. I'll see you at school." He started to lean down to kiss her on the forehead and the pain increased. He reflexively sucked air through his teeth.

"Let me get you something, Geoff."

"Don't do it, Geoff," Carrie warned. "He can't tell his pills apart yet."

Geoff chuckled. John quipped, "Anyone who kisses you has flashes of being a pedophile and backs off." Geoff grabbed his head and John became serious. "Sit down, Geoff."

"Shit." Trevor grit his teeth and nearly collapsed in the chair.

"Where is it? Local or diffuse? Dizziness?"

"I'm okay. I really do have a migraine and have been operating on adrenaline for the last few days. Jet lag. I'll be fine when I get some sleep." He stood to leave. "Thanks, John. I'll get some aspirin at home, go to bed, and call in the morning."

John smiled and shook hands. He knew when to let it go. He let Trevor out the door and turned to Carrie. "Nice guy."

Trevor went to Diamond. "What the fuck is wrong with my head?"

Diamond checked him into STONE's hospital and had him seen by their neuropsychiatrist. The verdict? "Someday it will kill him."

"Is it physical or psychological?" Diamond wanted to know.

"Both. And until we can fix it, keep him away from the source."

"The source is dead."

"Does he know?"

"Some of it."

"We're either going to have to 'cure' him or reintroduce it gradually with each dream."

"The latter."

"We tried it once and failed," said the specialist.

"This time you won't." The doctor knew what that implied threat did for his career. He went to see Trevor before he discharged him from his care.

"When you have either a dream or a headache, take one of these and call me immediately."

"Why?"

The doctor removed his wire rims and regarded Trevor with serious brown eyes that were searching the agent's blue ones. The scrutiny didn't faze Trevor. "Because I said so."

"Is he fucking around in my head?"

"You know the average life span of a STONE agent. You've exceeded it, that's all."

"You'd better not be bullshitting me, Zircon, or your own life span is in question."

"It already is, Bloodstone. You live, I live; you don't, I don't."

"You must be good." He went to see Diamond. "I don't trust him; yet I don't trust you," Geoff told the leader.

"On STONE matters?" That was paramount.

"I'm not interested in STONE matters."

"He says you've been in it too long and I don't want you out. He knows the consequences if he fails."

"I _am_ out."

"You're on leave."

"What about the Courtney woman?"

"What about her?"

"I still want no part of that but if it will rid me of you and this, I'll, as you so succinctly put it, 'hump the bitch and find out what she knows'."

"And what makes you think you can?" Trevor just looked at his boss. "Don't underestimate her," Diamond warned.

"You do that, I don't."

"Forget it for now. Let me get more concrete evidence. After all, we're dealing with an entire family here. A little risky." That was his dismissal.

"You're an asshole." That was Geoff's.

Geoff avoided Carrie the first couple of days but not so she noticed. He just wasn't where she was and since she didn't know his schedule, she thought nothing of it. At first. She passed his table at lunch a couple of days later with tray in hand. He didn't want to encourage her to join them so was somewhat indifferent.

"Hello, Geoff, how's your head?"

"Fine, Carol. Yours?"

Carol? "Fine, thank you." She was beginning to see it and almost didn't take the invitation from her friend and colleague, Jack English. Geoff ignored her during lunch except when directly questioned. Finally when Jack went back to the line, she asked, "Why the frostbite?"

"I'm sorry?" He pretended not to understand.

"Did I say something to offend you?"

"No."

"Oh, then sorry I brought it up."

"Don't apologize."

"Okay, I won't." He'd forgotten how she dissected every word. "I can imagine my treatment if I'd been anything but a delight."

He turned on her. "All right, I'll be honest with you." Rude actually.

"Please do." She held his eyes with hers.

"The only thing I was interested in the other night was the possibility of a quick tumble." She knew he was lying and he read that in her eyes.

"You find out I was gay?" At least she tried to be pleasant.

"No," he said flatly. "I found out your husband was dead and I don't want to get involved in that shit." It was as cold as he could make it. And he didn't like it one bit.

Her voice turned almost as cold. "I don't recall telling you, let alone involving you."

"You still use his name, Mrs. Stephen Courtney."

"A, I don't like Ms.; B, I'm not Miss; C, I have two small children to consider; D, I use none of the above here."

"And E, it's none of my business."

"And F you."

He actually chuckled. "Can't say it?"

"Won't say it." She stood. "Good afternoon, _Doctor_ Trevor."

"Doctor Courtney." And that was that.

Neither tried for about a year. It was surprising on such a small campus. Milan University was an elite eastern college on Long Island that catered to the wealthy. It did, however, take 40% hardship cases of bright kids. "Which leaves 60% paying inflated prices to an elite school _because_ it's an elite school and getting damn little out of it," Trevor had told her. He was there to give that 40% a shot. _"But I'm not giving her shit," he told Ffoeg._

" _You can't hold out forever, Geoff." Ffoeg, his alter, was a good and unbiased companion throughout Trevor's life._

" _It's been a year and so far so good. Headaches are gone and all's right with the world."_

Then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Two

Meet the first beginnings; look to the

budding mischief before it has time

to ripen to maturity.

Shakespeare

Geoffrey Walden Trevor sat in his understated walnut chair behind his equally understated solid mahogany leather top partner desk circa 1890, that Carrie's practiced eye told her were expensive antiques, grading exam papers and talking to the absent student. "Damn, kid, you'll never pass this course with that reasoning. Mommy and Daddy made you go to college right? Can't get a decent job without a decent education. Christ, when will some parents learn not every kid should go to college? Even those as bright as this one." He scratched a big "F" on the front of the blue book and put it in a pile - too small a pile - of graded exams. He looked up at the sound of a knock on the beveled glass of his half-open door.

"Doctor Trevor?" On seeing Carol Courtney, he started to rise but she held up her hand to stay him. "Please," she said, "don't get up."

"Thank you. What can I do for you, Dr. Courtney?"

Carrie entered carrying two 8 1/2 x 11 pieces of paper and stood near his desk, not yet having been asked to sit. He waved a hand at the chair and she took a seat beside his desk. "First of all, you can drop the doctor and call me Carol."

"Fine. You have something for me?"

"Yes. The student information we discussed." She quickly put her finger to her lips to warn him and handed him one of the papers. It gave a name of a student and read: May we talk somewhere?

Trevor lifted his eyes to look at her and, knowing he would kick himself later, decided to go along. He nodded his characteristic one accepting nod. "I only mentioned this yesterday in passing. You work fast." She took a chance that he'd deny it right then and there, he knew. It must be important.

"There wasn't much to it. He's actually a fairly bright kid."

"With motivational problems," he nodded. "Yeah, I know. One of those 60% I mentioned."

"I wonder if we should just ask his parents for an endowment instead."

Trevor chuckled. "He's already an annuity." Carrie smiled. "How's he doing in your course?"

"Very poorly. It's all there." She pointed to the papers. He lifted the top sheet and indeed there was a report. Carrie had researched the possibilities of mutual students the night before. They had three and this one was doing badly in both their courses. "I'm having a conference with him in half an hour."

Geoff consulted his Rolex. "At eleven?"

"Yes." She waited for him to make the first move.

He could see she was not experienced at this type of thing and he was annoyed at having to guide the conversation. He reached for his last graded exam and handed it to her. "Do you know any elementary physics?" He got stuck with one course and being an intellectual snob, preferred the more advanced courses.

"A little." Carrie looked over the blue book and actually laughed at one problem. It put her more at ease. "I'm sorry, it isn't funny."

"It's pathetic. Do him a favor. Flag him."

"I'll decide what to do after I've talked with him," she said reproachfully. She had heard of Geoff's indifference to some of his students and didn't like it.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said flatly.

She dropped her shoulders. It was obvious she was tense. "I'm sorry. I take my students seriously."

"So I've heard."

She looked at her at her own Rolex not knowing what to do next. "I'd better get back. It takes fifteen minutes to walk to the English Building. May we discuss him over lunch?"

"There's nothing to discuss. I'm flagging him." It was characteristic.

You bastard, she thought. He smiled, "But I would be happy to have lunch with you." She stood ready to leave and he followed suit. "What do you say to DaVinci's at one?"

She whipped around to him and saw that he had his finger over his mouth. "DaVinci's would be fine," she smiled.

"I'll walk out with you. I want to get away from this for a while." He grabbed his raw silk blazer off the back of the chair and started out of the office. In the hall, he went directly to a pay phone and dialed. Carrie followed and listened. "Hi, can you sweep my office this afternoon? Yes. Also I want you to check another one.....Professor Carol Courtney in the English Building." Carrie dropped her jaw and widened her eyes. "Room?" he asked her.

"Three nineteen, but..."

He silenced her with a wave and repeated the number into the phone. "Do? I want you to squash the fuckers."

"No!" Carrie pleaded. "Please don't," she said a bit calmer. Geoff looked at her and saw what he considered near panic in her eyes and went back to his party. "Wait, Phil. Leave them there and I'll get back to you. Yeah, thanks." He disconnected. "I'll pick you up in front of the English Building at 11:30," he said flatly.

"What about your car?"

"It would be quite irregular for me not to take my car off campus to lunch."

"Oh. Right."

He relented with an inward sigh. "How much do we know about each other?"

"Barring hearsay, we've had very little contact since we met a year ago at that faculty dance."

"Then we'll get re-acquainted in the car." He headed back towards his office.

"Dr. Trevor?" He turned. ''Thank you."

"We'll see. And drop the doctor, Doctor." He left cursing himself for becoming involved. But he had known all along that someday it would be inevitable.

Candidly speaking, Geoffrey Trevor was a bastard in both senses of the word, birth and propensity. His father could have been anyone of a number of traveling diplomats and in 1947 and '48 there were many who passed a few hours or even a night with Jacqueline Renee Trevor, his mother. She was a brilliant yet stupid UN secretary - translator - diplomatic envoy. Her stupidity was apparent by her arrogant feeling that she was impregnable. Jacqueline only associated with her betters attempting to accomplish the same for herself. And she did. Denied a college education by an old-fashioned father, she audited those classes that interested her at many different colleges and universities and further researched the subjects on her own time when she wasn't job hunting. She landed the UN job from the father of a fellow student when the young man took her on a tour of that facility. She quickly moved from secretary to translator to envoy in a short time.

Three years later Geoff was born - the abortion attempt had failed. As an envoy, she traveled extensively during his childhood and farmed him out to neighbors and UN acquaintances. He was a definite inconvenience until he was old enough to not only accompany her, but be of use to her. Geoff, like his mother, was a genius - but he wasn't stupid. When he was of age to procreate, he took even more care and precaution than his partners. His mother wouldn't allow a vasectomy. He didn't know why, didn't ask way. He always obeyed "Jacqui", as he called her. A very good friend of his also told him that one day his sperm might be worth a few bucks and the ever practical Geoff held off for that reason - probably more than at his mother's command.

At school Geoff concerned himself with books more to avoid ridiculing from his peers about his mother's 'social' affairs. He wasn't offended, just annoyed. He found he liked books, sciences and mathematics in particular, and spent hours reading in a corner or one of the many rooms in the UN overhearing the discussions in various languages. Considering his logical mind, languages and music came easily to Geoff. He had an ear and an affinity for them. He could speak fluent French, Spanish, Italian, and German by age ten. If something did not come easily to him, he dismissed it as unimportant, i.e. friends (he had two), politics (a waste of time and effort), religion (organized religion - he'd studied the history of religion and found it fascinating). Fortunately, or unfortunately, he never remained in one grade or school long enough to establish close ties. He was everyone's friend and no one's friend. He won an academic and political scholarship to Yale at fifteen double majoring in mathematics and physics, and graduated at seventeen. Those damn humanities held him up. He received his doctorate in Applied Mathematics from MIT three years later at the age of twenty and one in physics at twenty-two when most of his childhood associates were just finishing college. That was 1970 - one of the many years of Viet Nam, but one of the crucial ones. Geoff spent the following two years in Nam, some days working in a coding office sitting at a desk ciphering, deciphering, and enciphering codes eight hours a day. What few knew was that he was also a Navy SEAL. And a highly decorated one at that.

After Nam Geoff spent the next year traveling around Europe picking up odd jobs as translator, interpreter, and tour guide to keep himself from starving. He wasn't quite ready to sell that sperm yet. He didn't think he was that desperate. His extra income came from bridge games. Geoff's cavalier existence was cut short by a telegram from a friend of his mother's telling him that she was gravely ill. Geoff went home to an emaciated, wizened old looking woman suffering more from the treatment than the disease - cancer of the liver. He thought it would have been more appropriate if she had had uterine or cervical cancer, but again dismissed the possibility on the one theory that continued use negated the prospect. Use it or lose it - and Jacqui was definitely in no danger of losing it.

Jacqueline Trevor was not an overly vain woman, but this was unbearable. She'd lost almost every strand of her thick dark hair (which Geoff had inherited) and 20% of her total body weight making her skin drape from her once beautiful frame. She wanted to die for several reasons. She told Geoff she felt useless, which she was. She assumed the disease was fatal, which it was. She was sure the bills were exorbitant, which they were. And she told Geoff that he couldn't afford it, which he couldn't. It was ridiculous and impractical for her to linger, and she was even more practical than her son. Geoff thought he could always teach if nothing else. Applied math and physics professors were harder to recruit than pure ones because they usually went out into the world and applied their knowledge - logical, Geoff thought. Well, I'll apply it to teaching. And as long as he didn't have to teach any lower level course, or God forbid, high school, he could tolerate it for a while. The hours were somewhat flexible so he took a "steady" teaching job to help defray expenses. He tried his damnedest to dent the bills, but every time he acquired a little money, a new and more expensive drug was shot into his mother and it compounded the debts. Geoff gambled heavily and contrary to popular belief that one doesn't gamble for needed money, he won. He gambled at bridge knowing it was somewhat more predictable and therefore potentially more profitable. Although he thought the irony was priceless, he chose not to sell his sperm to save his mother's life. It wasn't that it was obscene, it was that what might be produced from those chromosomes could be obscene. He and his mother were bad enough human beings to inflict on this world. " There's no need to voluntarily infect society with any more malignant waste than humanly possible," he thought. So it was teaching and gambling. He would sometimes leave a game with a cache of ten to fifteen thousand dollars and apply every cent to his mother's medical expenses. He didn't really need the money for himself. He liked the bohemian life style that he'd had in Europe.

Geoff still needed more money for the medical expenses and a man called Diamond (whom he had always known as Collier) sought him out because of an experience Geoff had had in Nam. During the Nam period, his coding office was raided and he and one other man were the only two of twelve who were quick enough and cold enough to kill every intruder - ten of them - but not without the other man being wounded in the process. Since all communications had been cut, Geoff carried his co-worker twenty-one miles to a M*A*S*H unit after rudimentary emergency medical treatment. That man's brother-in-law would eventually become President of the United States. Geoff reported the incident in a clinical monotone which his superiors and psychiatrists attributed to shock. They waited for him to 'crash' and finally amended their report six months later when he didn't.

When Geoff's mother had been hospitalized after a period of six months, Ronald Collier, then Deputy Director of the Covert Action division of the CIA, approached him as Diamond for the first time. A friend in need is a potential employee of STONE. Geoff's first assignment, or mitigation, netted him five thousand dollars. "Hell, I can get twice that at the bridge table," he told Diamond after that initiation. His next job got him ten thousand until his standard fee of one-hundred-thousand dollars became legend. Geoff was too good to lose and he was only twenty-five years old.

Geoff wouldn't tell his mother how the bills were being paid, just that they were. He was obligated to this woman who had semi-reared him. She was his biological mother and that stood for something. What, he didn't know; but the fact that it did, committed him. After a year, regardless of the bills, Geoff made a pact with his mother. Kill her. She was not the woman he knew. Her mind was nearly gone and to them both, that was essentially dead. The pain was debilitating and she didn't have a moment's peace. She could linger, at most, for three more months. He granted her wish and left a cyanide capsule for her to do with as she pleased. There would be no autopsy, after all. She was not in her room the next morning and Geoff asked no questions. Diamond said he had handled it and not to concern himself with the details.. Trevor paid the remainder of the medical expenses but was then tied to STONE. Not bound, he was bound to no one. His mother had taught him that, if nothing else.

Geoff began investing in coins, gold, and silver. He at first made rapid turnovers of coins until he would make a fifty to hundred percent profit and reinvest the money until he had enough capital to open a coin shop. His reputation as a dealer and coin expert became nationwide then worldwide, achieving the status of Bowers and Ruddy, etcetera. His shop developed into branches and he traveled to other countries, auctions, and coin shops. He was a millionaire in a little over a year and quit teaching. During the gold and silver boom, Geoff became a multimillionaire. And of course real estate was a sound investment at the time. And the stock market.

With that increased wealth, Trevor also became a frequent topic in society pages and wrongly concluded, "I'm too well-known now." He was tired of STONE.

"And you worked hard for it," Diamond said. "But it won't wash. It makes you even less suspect." He looked up from his desk. "And to keep you from the public and make you the all-time altruist, you'll go back to teaching. This time, with all your wealth, you'll start the college. An elite, expensive school with 40% on scholarship. The leftover 60% will be the society types who can't be accepted anywhere else because they pissed away their time in high school.

"Why?"

"Because they have the money to keep your school running and will gladly pay for it if their kid gets a degree."

"From a flunky school?"

"It won't be. You'll have the best professors, think tanks like you who can't stand the academic politics of a Harvard or Yale."

"You can't expect this to come even remotely close to an Ivy." More like "poison Ivy."

"I do and it will."

"Also a pool for your diggings." Diamond shrugged. "Won't wash."

"You'll make it wash."

"Or?" Diamond didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. Geoff knew. He would be back in STONE. Trevor suddenly wanted his school to succeed because he didn't want to go back into the field. Stupid games. Diamond felt Geoff could never leave STONE permanently and waved his 'cure' knowing Trevor would be back someday. He would see to it. Outside of Diamond, only two members of STONE could never leave. Geoff was one of them.

Now Trevor was picking up Carol Courtney in front of the English building of that elite college which had almost, in such a short time, upgraded the status of 'poison-Ivy' to 'sub-Ivy', as Geoff called it. He pulled his black 650 Mercedes into the faculty parking space intending to go into the building when he saw her walking down the steps. He got out of the car to open the passenger door for her and took his first good look at her since they'd met at the dance. His memory served him well.

She was very small, but with a good solid figure of small hips and perfectly shaped legs. Geoff was a leg man and admired her athletic legs all the way to the car. She was wearing a mint green linen suit and matching silk blouse which all looked tailored for her petite figure. It was more than petite, he decided. It was teenage, then got a sudden sharp pain in the side of his head. He blinked and it left, with Carrie none the wiser, although as if nudged, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He noticed that she was pixie looking with large dark blue eyes that he would never take for granted embedded in her peaches and cream complexion. She wasn't a classic beauty as defined in that sense, but was beautiful nonetheless. She looked patrician despite her small size. And she was 'cute' he decided, with the unconscious grace of a lady. He held the car door for her to get in and took a rear view as she thanked him _. "Cute little ass, too. Definitely my type."_

" _Anyone with an X chromosome is your type," Ffoeg told him._

" _Shut up, bastard," Geoff said almost audibly and got in the driver's seat._ He started the ignition. "How'd your conference go?"

She turned those blueberry eyes on him. "You really want to know?"

"No." It was a simple response."

She was much more in control now, he noted. "Good," she said. "It went very well and I'm going to tutor him in English and Physics five nights a week."

"Waste of time," he said flatly and glanced over to catch the beginnings of a mischievous grin on Carrie's face. He smiled in return. "And you take your students seriously."

"He has an IQ of 160 you know," she said.

"So? He doesn't give a shit. Why should you?"

Although she had asked the student if he wanted tutors, and she would be one of them, she wouldn't do it. Why put a kid through that just to prove something to some insolent professor who didn't give a damn in the first place? Trevor was right. The boy didn't want to be there. Carrie told the student as much at her conference with him and he said his parents wanted him there, just as Trevor had said. She just didn't like Trevor's attitude or detached personality. He was an excellent teacher despite his contempt for slow or stupid people (which weren't a part of that school) and, particularly, lazy bright people (which were a good part of that school). The female half of the student body liked him because he was unmarried and his aloofness was exciting to some and challenging to others. The male students liked him because he was a no-nonsense type of man who was usually honest and straightforward. Geoff stayed away from the female students but did entertain some of the unmarried (he never played around with married women) female faculty - except Carrie Courtney.

"Shall we bypass DaVinci's and go to my place for a nooner?"

The comment didn't shock her as much as it increased her contempt for him. "Now who's wasting time?" This must be an act. He couldn't be as successful as he is with that one.

"Worth a shot." He really did not like playing the sleazy roué.

"And I heard you were fairly intuitive."

He shrugged but continued. "Too bad. You look as though you'd be good. Good athletic build." Carrie ignored him and continued to look out the window as they drove, "Now that the amenities are over, what's a nice girl like you etcetera - and I do mean nice. Or is it good? No, it's nice."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't appear I can ask you that question without changing the adjective."

"Are you going to answer my question? After I find out, I may not want to take you to bed." He knew she disliked off color jokes and conversations.

"Your wants and desires don't concern me, Mr. Trevor."

"Playing hard to get, hunh? Well, lady, I don't try that hard. Too many other prospects."

"Then go to them and drop this line of thought , s'il vous plait."

"Thought no, discussion, maybe."

"Just don't burden me with it."

"That's right, you burden easily. Students and the like." She's handling herself fairly well also _. ''Been coached, Ffoeg said. 'I would have told you to fuck off by now.'_

"You don't really give a damn do you?" he heard her ask.

"Not really. Not for kids like Wayne Redman who shouldn't be here. Don't want to be here."

"What do you give a damn about? Excuse my preposition."

"Excused and not much." That won't work either.

"God, you're pitiful."

He laughed and pulled into the parking lot across from DaVinci's. "Here we are."

Carrie looked out the window and saw that they actually were at the restaurant. She snapped her head towards Geoff with eyes widened in surprise. A trap, she thought. "Damn you, Trevor," she blurted, forgetting the possibility of the microphones. Geoff doubted the existence of a camera in the car, but would take no chances for now. Fortunately his hand was near the shift and concealed by his leg from where he assumed a camera would be hidden. He slipped his right hand a few inches under Carrie's skirt and she halted it with one hand and took his wrist in the other. "Have you ever wanted to be left handed?" she asked politely while glaring at him.

Although he approved of the way she handled it, he didn't dare show it for several reasons. "If you don't want to screw, just say so." She winced at his crudeness. "Pardon me," he said sarcastically and added with even greater sarcasm, "Make LUV. Christ, what a stupid expression."

Overused, at any rate, she thought, but said, "On that, Mr. Trevor, we agree. But the phrase has a well-meaning connotation which I doubt you can even comprehend."

"Nor do I care to comprehend." He removed his hand. "Let's get one thing straight. I hate prick teasers..." she started to agree again but he spoke quickly, "so I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you another chance to either knock off that 'I want-to-get-laid-body language' or I'll let you choose positions." He figured he _and_ she were covered either way with that. If Diamond sent her, he expected her to try to seduce him. That dumb bastard didn't think in any other terms but phallic symbols. Geoff hoped this lady wasn't dumb enough to give him one of those, 'what-kind-of-girl-do-you-think-I-am?' responses. He looked straight through her, hoping for one of the few times in his life that his eyes could convey a message. They couldn't. Carrie was confused and showed it, but something had told her to play it out. Geoff learned later it was what she called her Celtic instinct.

"Is that your usual approach," she finally asked.

"Was it yours?" he countered. He knew it wasn't. She wasn't the type but he hoped Diamond thought he had given her reason enough for Geoff to get that very idea. He didn't want Carrie to pay the price of failure. But she couldn't know that. She was too naïve. But she also knew she hadn't sent any messages to him and that he was experienced enough to know that. So something was going on.

Carrie looked out the window at DaVinci's. "We're going to have a long wait. Look at the people."

"I called ahead. We have a table."

"How thoughtful." At least some of the sarcasm was gone. He figured it to be uncertainty and hated it. She didn't deserve it.

"An improvement from pitiful," he tried. He got out of the car, went around to her side, opened the door and took her hand to help her out and closed the door behind her. "Let's go in here where we can talk." His tone was much more the cool professional as he took her arm and escorted her into one of the more exclusive French restaurants in New York, Chez Jeanne. It specialized in continental cuisine with a subspecialty in country French.

A short man in his middle forties greeted them with very friendly hazel eyes and professional smile. But specially warm, Carrie thought. If he indulged his chefs, it wasn't apparent in his slender sinewy build. Henri Lachâsse was the proprietor. "Bonjour, Monsieur Trevor." Carrie had heard of Henri's desire for privacy but saw no evidence of it when he greeted Geoff. She showed her impression with her very expressive eyes.

"Bonjour, Henri, ça va bien?"

"Bien, merci, monsieur. Le cabinet particulier?"

"Non, la bas, pres de la fenêtre, s'il vous plait, Henri." Geoff indicated with a nod to a table by the window. He did not want his usual room and Henri, thought Carrie, would have moved anyone who might have been sitting in that booth. Conveniently, she also thought, no one was.

"Apres moi, s'il vous plait, monsieur et mademoiselle." He seated them, offered the wine list, placed their napkins and was attentive to the point of being effusive. Carrie made note that Henri, while seating her before he did Geoff, seated her facing the wall and Geoff towards the restaurant. DaVinci's was in full view but they, themselves, were hidden from view of the other patrons by their high-back booth and partitions covered with plants. Carrie watched Henri fuss over them and, for the time, ignored the single title he cast on her. He seemed such a nice gentle man and didn't mean to be rude by speaking French. His preferred customers requested that he use it to give them practice, but he had never had any intention of doing otherwise. He did not speak English well and at the restaurant, he could get away with French, he had said.

"Nous n'y sommes pour personne, Henri." Although Geoff had taken a booth in the open part of the restaurant, he did not want to be disturbed.

"Oui, monsieur," Henri said, bowed, and left them.

"Pardon my taking the wall," Geoff said of his breach of etiquette.

"Don't explain." She understood.

"I wasn't going to explain, just excuse myself."

"Your arrogance is insufferable." She was beginning to wonder whether her decision to meet with Geoff was worth this insulting behavior. "And excuse Monsieur Lachâsse who seated me first."

Geoff looked at her in silence, hoping it would cause her to explain. It didn't shake her. _'Sharp and confident,' Ffoeg said._

Henri appeared with the menus and took their drink order. Geoff ordered wine for both without consulting Carrie, who disliked wine. She changed her order to a Bailey's Irish Cream.

He grinned. "Misjudged you," he said. "Took you for a classy broad."

"I am. And you can stop with the shock tactics. Although I don't approve of your language, it neither shocks nor intimidates me. It only insults me. Now, what are we doing here?"

"Observing. I thought that was obvious." He glanced over at DaVinci's.

"All that talk about the nooner...."

"Was for the benefit of the possible bugs." He examined her face and added, "Not that I wouldn't be interested." Carrie looked away from him and out the window. He let her watch the passersby, asked if she minded if he smoked, and recommended the silver salmon and lobster sauce. They ordered lunch and Geoff startled her with his directness. "Who are you and what is your story?" He watched her, paying great attention to her eyes, knowing he could tell if she were lying. He had always been able to detect it if someone lied to him, told him half-truths, or the whole truth. Another gift. The same could not be said for him, however. No one could catch a glimmer of truth or lie in Geoff's cobalt eyes. It was a characteristic he'd perfected over the years. It was easy for him because he usually didn't care or feel enough to show any trace of emotion.

"I want your advice," Carrie said simply and returned his gaze.

"Why mine?"

"My husband was with the CIA," she waited long enough before, "also."

He let it go. "Go on." He wanted no sticky explanations.

"I've had a certain amount of pressure put on me to deliver you to a certain individual at the week's end."

"This is Wednesday." He raised his brows to show, pretend, he was impressed. "You must be damn good." That did nothing, so he continued. "What kind of pressure?"

"That I don't care to discuss with you."

"Then why tell me at all? Certainly not out of the kindness of your big burdened heart for a fellow faculty member."

"Because I assume this wouldn't be the last time he'd try it. It never is."

"Is it the first?"

"Second." He knew by her tone that she wouldn't elaborate.

"You think you're capable of delivering me?"

"Probably. But I'd like to think I wouldn't, which has little to do with you personally."

He had to give her credit for that. She had some integrity, which he admired. But he still didn't buy it. Although he had to admit, looking into those exquisite eyes, it was hard not to buy anything and everything she said. "How do I know this whole routine isn't part of it?" Eyes included.

"I would have just delivered you. And if you were listening, I said I want it to stop."

"All right for now. Who is this individual?"

"Collier wants you to go to East Berlin for a double agent."

His brows knit. Collier. She didn't say Diamond. ' _She wouldn't, stupid,' Ffoeg warned. 'Get away_ _from those eyes or whatever it is that's clouding your brain.'_ He watched her face. "Who's the agent?"

"Karl Wilhelm Rhinehart."

Fuck! "He's a known doubler. Has been for years."

"He's turned."

"How do you know?" Very few did know.

"I was the first to know."

Geoff was genuinely surprised although this time didn't show it. He hadn't thought her capable. "You uncovered him?"

"Accidentally actually. Steve, my husband, and I were going through some of Steve's papers and I spotted an inconsistency from one of Rhinehart's earlier reports."

"I understood him not to keep reports."

It was Carrie's turn. She leaned across the table resting on her arms. "Then you misunderstood." She sat back in her side of the booth not knowing why she felt good and guilty at the same time. 'Good' she decided, since he didn't seem the least bit rattled or offended.

"Explain," he said simply.

"There isn't much to explain." She softened or backed off. He didn't know which yet. "Steve and Rhinehart worked closely together." She didn't need to elaborate for Geoff, he knew that too. Steve and Rhinehart had trusted each other and respected each other's capabilities. "And they were friends, of sorts. Karl depended more on Steve for awhile after his wife left, taking his only son with her." She shrugged, "I remembered a note he had written to Steve that didn't jive with what he had told him later. They used to leave each other notes, in code of course, even though it wasn't Agency related. And one was inconsistent, that's all."

She was downplaying it and he knew it. "You know the code?" She shook her head. "Then how?"

"Because I reminded Steve what the first note had said."

It dawned. "Your memory."

She nodded. "Steve checked out the note, which led to more checking and..." she let it hang.

"And then you went to work for the Agency." A statement.

Carrie shook her head. "I just," she gestured melodramatic quotes making a mockery of it. "'photographed' a few things, only for Steve, before the papers self-destructed in open air or some such nonsense."

"Potassium permanganate. Don't pretend you don't know."

"I wasn't sure you did." He smiled. "But since it was nothing top secret, they weren't coated. Collier used me once after Steve had been killed."

"The first pressure?"

She nodded. "I wanted no part of it, him, or the Agency. He said it would be the only time."

"And you bought that?" She couldn't have been that stupid.

"No."

"Explain."

Again, "No. It's irrelevant and, frankly, none of your business."

"So why are we here?"

"I know all about your avocation." He waited. Don't prompt her, don't encourage her, maybe she'll go away. "Up until eighteen months ago, you were an assassin for the CIA." She didn't go away. Shit. He didn't have any of the reactions she had anticipated, even rehearsed. He again waited for her to continue, to stammer, get flustered. She didn't. She waited _. 'Pretty sure of herself,' from Ffoeg._

Geoff laughed, Carrie didn't. "I'd hardly call that an avocation."

"I probably wouldn't either at $l00,000 a shot. Pardon the pun."

"The CIA doesn't have," he paused for affect and whispered as he leaned over the table, "assassins."

"Maybe not ostensibly." She wouldn't be dissuaded and Geoff did not like her knowledge of him. He reached across the table and gripped her wrist tightly. "You'd better tell me where you heard all this shit or I'll break your wrist right here." He didn't like doing that, but he had to know.

"Your friend Collier." Carrie glowered at him but spoke with control.

"That's bullshit," he stated simply.

"Geoff, please don't! I won't do it again. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Her voice was loud enough to draw attention to their table. Geoff laughed at her charade knowing how it sounded to the other diners who couldn't see them. He released his hold on her. Before he could speak, Henri was at the table and caught the subtle nod from Geoff.

"Maitenant, vous pouvez, mademoiselle."

Carrie controlled her anger very well, Geoff thought. "Vous êtes bien bon, mais je suis tres bien ici.'' She was not about to be thrown out of a restaurant.

"Mademoiselle...''

" C'est madame,'' Carrie finally corrected.

Henri didn't care and said so. "Je m'en moque," he emphasized her marital status, "madame."

Carrie started to speak but Geoff intervened, however not in her behalf. "Ta gueule, Carol." He just told her to shut up.

She whipped her head to him, ''Vous avez cette audace...'' she stopped. ''Why am I speaking French to you?" She took a deep breath. ''Thank you for lunch, Mr. Trevor.'' She calmly reached for her purse and rose from the table.

''Sit down,'' he said. ''It hasn't arrived.''

''Go to hell,'' she answered and turned to Henri and nodded her departure, ''Monsieur.''

''Monsieur Henri Fournier,'' Geoff made the introduction and waited for her reaction. He got it. Her eyes doubled in size and she stopped in mid-step to look at Henri. Geoff finished the introduction for Henri. ''Madame Stephen Courtney.''

Henri's reaction was identical to Carrie's. ''Dieu me pardonne, Madame Courtney!''

Henri Fournier had been with SDECE, French Intelligence, in his thirties. He retired at forty when his wife of six months, Jeanne, was killed in a questionable auto accident. It was his first and only marriage. Henri had not wanted to marry while in intelligence work. Steve had met Henri in France strictly on a social basis only the year before Steve died. They became good friends and when Courtney was in France he would consult Henri off the record and they would see each other socially if they were ever in the same country. Henri felt he owed his life to Steve. To hear Steve tell it, Henri had saved his life. They were in a skiing accident in Switzerland and talked each other down the mountain to safety. It was discovered later that Rhinehart had tried to kill Steve and Henri had just gotten in the way.

Henri became effusive once he learned Carrie's true identity and re-seated her at the table. ''Voulez-vous être des notres, Henri? '' Geoff asked.

''Non, mais Je suis tout a vous.'' Henri bowed declining the invitation to join them. When Geoff asked in French, Henri knew to decline. The restauranteur added with a wink, ''Point tant de raisons.'' Geoff laughed and Carrie smiled politely at Henri's request for them not to argue so much.

''Why did you do that?'' Carrie was angry with Geoff.

''You'd make a lousy spy,'' he said not answering her question and watched her fiddle with her napkin.

''Are you setting me up to ask you why?'' She knew why but was hoping for success.

''No.'' Carrie expected some off color remark and when she didn't get it, she looked up and asked with her eyes. ''That's why,'' he said. ''Your eyes talk too much.''

''Why the soap operatic introduction?''

''I couldn't have Henri evict you before we cleared up a few things.'' He nodded to the table. ''And had lunch.''

''Why not? You set me up for it. If it hadn't been the strongarm, it would have been something else to test my pressure points.''

Geoff smiled in approval. ''Not bad.''

''La châsse,'' Carrie said, ''Of course, it means shrine and Henri adored his wife. This restaurant...'' She knocked on her temple three times as if to open the door, ''Dummy.'' She had forgotten Geoff for the moment but quickly recovered and looked at him. ''And if I were the good little spy, I wouldn't have reacted to Henri's real name.''

'"Maybe. Maybe not. I wanted to see how much your husband told you of his work.''

" Satisfied?" She knew when to ask questions.

"Partly." He also knew the ploy. "How did he meet Henri?"

"In France a few years ago."

"Under what circumstances?"

"Why? It has nothing to do with this."

"Just curious." He said it casually, trying not to make it too important. "Who was with him?"

"As far as I know, no one." Carrie looked into Geoff's eyes, not being able to read anything.

' _She's bright, asshole. Watch it,' from Ffoeg._

"Not Rhinehart?"

"No. That was later. Obviously Henri told you about that." She was annoyed.

"You have a vested interest in this, lady. And I'm not walking into some kind of trap because you want to avenge your husband's death."

"I am asking you for your advice, not your interference."

"You're taking a chance that I won't run to Collier with this."

"You quit. Why he's using me to get you, I don't know. Perhaps you can answer that."

He could, but wouldn't. He showed no reaction and turned on her. "Because he has something on you and decided to call in the chips." Carrie shrank from the comment, so he continued. "And before I do anything, I'm going to find out what that something is." He had the upper hand and knew it. For once, he hated it.

Carrie regained her composure knowing what he was doing, even expecting it. "You wouldn't be good at your job if you didn't. It's only fair we know about each other." She also knew that would anger him, yet he still didn't show it.

"You're a cold bitch."

It backfired. "Don't you ever call me that again. You of all people..." She stopped because she'd had enough. She was no shrew and didn't like using his tactics. She hadn't been trained for it. She now tried a civil approach. "I'm sorry. I know your obsession with privacy and I knew that would make you angry."

"You're goddamned right it did." You'd never know it by the flat affect.

She ignored it and went on with her explanation. "Collier gave me your file. He wanted me to know what I was up against."

He sat back in his seat and studied her. "Thank you. You weren't supposed to tell me that."

Carrie looked confused. "How do you know that?"

"Because he also knows how pissed I'd be; consequently, I would refuse to see him." What he didn't know was that Carrie also knew that and didn't want Geoff to take the assignment.

"I think you've given me your advice."

Geoff either didn't hear her or made no comment. He was looking out the window at a couple across the street. Carrie turned to see them. "Know them?" he asked.

Her eyes widened instinctively and Geoff smiled to himself at this lousy spy. "I'm impressed," she said.

"So I've noticed." He liked her eyes. They were as big as his but looked much larger on her small face.

"The man is Michael Mead, Collier's aide and confidant. He's a strange one. Sharp as the proverbial tack and quiet as the proverbial mouse."

"Mechanic?"

"Some say." So she knew the word and only glanced at him for that slip. He nodded for her to continue. "No one knows for sure. He's a field agent like Steve was." At least that will explain her knowledge, she thought.

"His replacement?"

"No." She was too emphatic and Geoff waited. "Mead is a triple."

"Cheeeerist!" Geoff knew the complications of a triple agent.

"She on the other hand, is as ruthless as they come. Don't let her looks fool you."

It was an unnecessary comment. The man was fairly nondescript. Average everything. The woman was, from what Geoff could see, a very attractive blonde with good legs. "Fill me in on her."

"Joan Metford. Good graces, phony proper upbringing, intelligent, sensual, and a damn good agent." They were quiet as they were served lunch, by Henri, of course. Carrie did get the silver salmon and lobster sauce as did Geoff and she pronounced it delicious.

"Does either of them know you?" he asked once they were alone.

"Joan does. She traveled a lot with Steve." Her voice said something.

"I see."

Carrie eyed him purposefully. "No you don't _see_. Not everything revolves around your perpetual priapic proclivities." He actually laughed. Couldn't be too upset to come up with that one, he thought. There had never been anything sexual between Steve and Joan and Carrie was never the jealous type. There was no reason for it. She and Steve had a wonderful marriage, loved and genuinely liked and respected each other, and were devoted to each other and their children. Carrie disliked Joan for entirely different reasons. But he couldn't know that, so again, she softened. "I'm sorry."

"Don't bother..."

"I will bother. I never trusted Joan. Too money conscious. Too nuveau riche."

"Not anciens riche like you."

Carrie looked directly at him and said simply, "No."  
He laughed. "You may not tell all but you're honest in what you do tell."

"Good God, don't they play anything else but Bach in this place?" Carrie asked of the overhead music. Geoff said nothing. He knew she was uncomfortable and prying into personal matters was something he never did. He watched out the window. "Geoff?" came the weak voice. He turned to her and saw the confusion. "Why are they here?"

"They're not checking up on me, Carol." He was firm but gentle.

"I'm in over my head aren't I?"

"You're being used like the rest of us." He looked towards Henri and motioned for the Frenchman to come to join them.

"Oui, monsieur?"

"Join us, Henri."

Henri immediately pulled up a nearby chair and sat at the edge of the table between them. "Trouble?" he asked in English. Carrie was surprised not only that he spoke English, but did it with very little trace of French accent. Steve hadn't told her much more about Henri other than his name and nationality. He only took her to the restaurant one time, and that was in a group. And Henri was, conveniently, not at the restaurant that night. Steve had made sure of that before they went.

"Do you know those two?" Geoff nodded to Mead and Metford who were strolling in front of DaVinci's across the street.

"I remember Michael Mead from Rome. We collaborated on a case. Good man but quiet. You never knew he was around."

"Mechanic?" Henri was reticent to answer but Geoff nodded that it was all right. Henri knew nothing of STONE so discretion was not necessary. "He only killed in self-defense."

"The woman?" Henri smiled and Geoff recognized it and laughed. "Eh. Coqueluche des dames." Henri laughed and Carrie smiled at Geoff's calling Henri a lady-killer.

"Moi?" Henri enlisted Carrie. "Il est un coqueluche des dames, n'est pas?"

Carrie smiled and looked at Geoff feigning appraisal. Although she wanted to say, "Not so far," she played the politician and said something stupid like, "It would be a tough choice." Henri liked her immediately and Carrie thought he was adorable.

"So much for honesty," Geoff said and smiled back.

He looked at Henri who had lost sight of the original question and lapsed into French. "C'est une femme tres comme il faut."

"I agree, she's quite a lady, Henri," he said of Carrie. "English."

"Oh. The same cannot be said for the one across the street. She's a..." he couldn't find the English. "coureur de dot."

"Fortune hunter," Geoff said confirming Carrie's impression.

"Yes. Fortune hunter and a..." he had difficulty again. "souillon."

"Slut."

"Oui, a slut." He looked at Carrie. "Pardon, Madame." He turned back to Geoff. "But she is a good agent. Whether her indiscretions are part of her cover, I am not to say. I have heard it said that she is a nymphomane." He used the French and gave a Gallic shrug. "But again..."

Geoff looked at Carrie for confirmation. "She can control it. It's part of her cover."

Geoff laughed at the thought of a nymphomaniac being a spy. "It's genius! Somebody in that outfit had a brain and a sense of humor." Carrie smiled more to herself and Geoff saw it. "Steve?" She confirmed his question with a nod.

Henri laughed. "Il voulut le faire." Steve would do something like that. His fidelity was well known. Henri liked being with Steve because he knew when they were approached, Henri would get both women. He genuinely admired Steve for being faithful to Carrie but knew if he stayed in the business, it wouldn't last. He promised Steve he would catch him when he fell off the fidelity wagon but Steve never did. "I have no desire to," he had told Carrie. "We're not all a bunch of lewd and lascivious bastards." That was one part of Steve's life that existed in both worlds and he didn't want to lose touch with Carrie's world and that of his children. Henri's face was sluiced with tears. "Pardonnez moi, Madame. J'ai trouve cela tres bien." He left the table laughing. A little overdone, Carrie thought.

"He enjoyed that," Geoff said not needing to translate but overstating the obvious.

"So it would seem."

"Before Carrie knew it, Geoff had taken her hand and pulled her up out of the booth and was leading her out the back exit. "Je serai de retour, Henri," he said as he passed Henri without paying the bill. Henri understood. He was the only person who ever served Geoff. He would get paid and paid well. Geoff had lent Henri 60% of the cost to buy the restaurant and they became partners until Henri repaid enough to have majority ownership himself. Henri had been a faithful servant ever since. So had Geoff. If Geoff Trevor was anything, he was loyal. This was not to be confused with sentiment. Henri made monthly payments to Geoff by special delivery and cash so it could not be traced. He owed Geoff a balance of $90,000 and would have it paid off in three years. In the end Geoff would only maintain a small ownership of the restaurant for investment purposes. Henri was honored when Geoff had lent him the money. This meant Geoff considered him a friend. This was why when a couple entered the restaurant asking for Professors Trevor and Courtney, Henri denied seeing them. In fact, he didn't even know a Professor Courtney. Never heard of him he said in broken English.

"Professor Courtney?" the voice asked over the phone in Carrie's office in the Music building. She went to that office to give Phil Savage time to search her other office.

"Yes, this is she." She didn't recognize the voice and thought it might be the parent of one of her students, particularly Wayne Redman's parents who insisted he stay in college.

"You're not going to win him over by Friday with that attitude."

"I don't want to do this." She guessed the voice to be that of Michael Mead.

"Doesn't that private Catholic school your children attend frown on mothers like you?"

"They're very forgiving. Nature of the beast." She knew she wasn't convincing.

"You'd better soften up or we'll have to test your theory." She said nothing for some time. "Professor?" His voice was as nondescript as he was.

"I'll get him my own way but I'm not sleeping with him. And Collier should know that won't work with him." She slammed the receiver home and was surprised at her anger. It was the wrong way to do it. Of course Collier knew seduction wouldn't work. What in hell was he trying to accomplish? Carrie propped her elbows on her desktop and rested her forehead in her palms to collect herself. "Okay, honey, what next? How do you handle a sonovabitch like that?" Which one, she thought.

She did not know he was there nor how long he had been there but caught the movement of a foot in her peripheral vision. She jerked her head up to see Geoff standing in the doorway leaning on the casing. He smiled and knocked. "Hi." It was a pleasant tone. Carrie realized Phil must not have checked this office and, even more disheartened, nodded her greeting.

"How are you on conjugation?" he asked in a tone hinting at playfulness.

"English?"

He nodded and sat in the chair beside her smaller, but equally elegant partner desk. He looked around her office pretending to see it for the first time and found it interesting that she had no pictures of her children anywhere in the office. Determined to cheer her up, he began fumbling with some papers and playing the serious but absent-minded professor. "I'm gathering a consensus from the English professors on campus and I wonder if you might be of service."

Carrie gave him a wan smile and was grateful for his attempt, and a good one, at levity. It was one of his specialties. "How may I be of service?" she tried. He feigned a devilish grin and wiggled his eyebrows, which didn't do much. "Your consensus," she reminded him.

He snapped to attention. "Oh, right." He fumbled with more papers and apparently decided to hell with it, threw the papers in the air, propped his elbow on her desk, and leaned on his hand. Carrie snickered. "What's the present perfect of shit?"

She smiled tight-lipped. "It's a noun."

Geoff stood and began to search the top of her desk and around the blotter. As he ran his fingers over the edge of the desk, he said, "I shit, you shit, he shits. That's a verb." He went around to the front of the desk to check its face.

"I'm not sure, of course, having no experience with the word." Geoff popped his head above the desk and raised his eyebrows at her pseudo-sophisticated tone and she smiled. "But I think it has been colloquialized (she frowned herself at that one) into a verb just as, for example, loan or contact. Both are nouns, but informal English..."

"I would say this is quite informal English." He went to her side and bent in front of her to search under the desk.

"I'd say it's vulgar English." She was getting better at this.

"Stop being a prude and tell me the goddamn present perfect of shit."

"You figure it out." She was even feeling playful, or spiteful. She didn't know which.

"Jesus," he said as he collapsed to the floor. He sat with his arms resting on his knees. "Shit, shat, shut." He felt under the bottom of the desk and went up to the bottom of the top drawer. She backed away on her swivel chair to give him room and watched how professionally he searched and continued a nonsensical conversation. He got to his knees, his head level with hers.

"I would say it's have shat," she said.

He turned his head to her and was only inches from her face. He was feeling the bottom of the drawer and his eyes were on the corner of the room concentrating on his task without the distraction of her eyes. "Why?"

"Sounds better." She noticed his detached attitude although his voice was friendly.

"How would it sound if we went for a cup of coffee or something?" He had switched sides and was bending down into the lower drawers, always keeping his face towards her when he spoke whether he was seeing her or not.

"Why?" she asked.

He snapped his eyes to her wondering what the hell she thought he'd been doing all this time when he caught another mischievous grin on her face. He returned it with an, 'I'll-get-you' look but said, "To repay you for the nooner." She didn't know what to say in order not to implicate anyone. He pulled his hand up holding a bug. She closed her eyes coming back to reality. He put the bug back where he found it under the desk and went to the door. He cleared his throat and she opened her eyes to look at him. For the benefit of students and other faculty passing in the hall, Geoff smiled and wiggled a playful seductive forefinger for her to come to him. She left her desk and they went into the hall. "I'm sure there are more," he said putting an arm around her waist to escort her away from her office and through the crowds of class changes.

"You heard?"

He nodded. "Do you know who it was?"

"I think Michael Mead. What about our offices?"

"Them too. Phil's checking my car now. I'll have him check this office and your car."

"After that call I wouldn't be surprised if I had one surgically implanted on my person."

Geoff smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Want me to check?"

"Don't you ever give up?"

"Only if it's useless."

She was almost insulted but remembered her own ploy with him. "And you don't think it is?"

He laughed. "Yes, but in your case, I just like to bust you about it. How long have you been without?"

She shook her head, incredulous and exasperated. "None of your business."

"That long, hunh?"

She touched his arm. A toucher, he thought. "Please, Geoff." He laughed again and she looked up and smiled. "At least don't be so crude." He wanted the exchange and change of expression to be seen by others. Two young girls passed them and giggled when Geoff patted Carrie's head.

"Christ."

"That doesn't flatter you?"

"From all you've given me, it's you they're after." She laughed aloud. "That's the first semblance of a real laugh I've heard from you." He liked it. It was genuine. And quite rare, he thought sadly, remembering the last time he heard it was at the faculty dance.

"Actually I laugh a great deal. Where are we going, by the way?"

"Out of the crowd." He dodged a running student and amended his words, "I hope."

"See you at seven, Carrie," said a man passing them.

"I'll be there."

"Carrie?" Geoff teased with a grin.

"My nickname and he's my baseball coach."

He nudged her, stressing her nickname. "Un hunh, sure, Carrie." She couldn't help but laugh at his tone. He quickly pulled her in an empty office causing her to lose her balance and exclaim, "Woo!" as he closed the door behind them. Geoff sat on the desk as Carrie stood at the door. "Here's what we do. You're going to be seen with me on campus and off until we find out how important this little mission of yours is." Carrie was amazed at the change from play to work so quickly. The play had seemed so real. "You're still contemptuous of me, but..."

"Does that mean you're going to take it?" She looked disappointed.

"No. I'm biding time. We have until Friday, right?" She nodded. "I want to find out a few things before I take any definitive action."

"I don't want to influence it."

"You won't."

She passed the remark as if unheard. "In fact, I don't even want to play this silly game."

"What about the pressure on you?"

"I never pretended I couldn't handle it. I would, of course, rather it weren't there, but I'm not going into a catatonic stupor because of it. I only asked for your advice, remember?"

"Tough broad, ain't ya?"

"Yes, I am," she said with assurance and opened the door to leave.

"Carol?" She turned to him. "I'll call you." She nodded and turned again to leave. "Carol?" She dropped her shoulders in exasperation and turned to him yet again. "Thank you for the information." She nodded again and walked out of the office smiling to herself.

"He ain't so tough," she thought. Geoff followed her out of the office and called after her once again. "What!" she nearly yelled in exasperation.

He smiled, "That was wonderful. Let's do it again sometime." He zipped his fly.

Carrie laughed and went into her office and called Collier.

Chapter Three

The surest way of making a dupe

Is to let your victim

Suppose you are his.

Bewer

Trevor's immediate concern was to investigate Carol Courtney, thoroughly. Since he was no longer with STONE, he could not be as thorough as he wanted. That file would have been more complete. He called Phil Savage, his one remaining friend in the CIA, for her file. Of course he didn't trust her. All this was too pat, too convenient. Her being at the same small college was just the beginning. She didn't need the money any more than he did. He had managed to avoid her the past year and a half, but now the time had come. What did she really want from him? No one is that altruistic, especially for a man she felt wasn't fit to share office space with. "She'd probably excuse my preposition," he said to Phil as they entered The Bitter End.

"Give her a break, Geoffrey."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you _don't_ trust her, not because you do."

"Cynic," Geoff teased.

"You'd check up on your own mother."

Geoff chuckled. "Particularly my mother."

Phil knew very little of Geoff's family or personal life. "Just an expression, Geoffrey. Sorry." Phil was a robust looking man in his middle forties with a broad forehead that took up half his face, but a full head of wavy brown hair which disguised it. He was not handsome by some women's standards, but his shy, little-boy demeanor attracted the mothering type. His own wife doted on him and it was reciprocated. Geoff accused him many times of being too sentimental, but liked him.

They waited for their drinks before Phil handed Geoff the file. "Small town girl marries small town boy," Geoff cracked.

"Some small town," Phil said, "New-goddamn-port, Rhode Island."

"You read it?"

"After her husband was killed."

"Right up there with Burgess, McClean, and Philby." All infamous traitors.

"BullSHIT!"

"We all say bullshit but it's there in black and white."

"So's Pravda." Phil referred to the Russian newspaper that, ironically, meant 'truth'.

Geoff continued reading. "Christ, she's my age." He knew that but because Carrie was so obviously arrested in puberty, he felt it necessary to comment.

"She stays in good shape, as I'm sure you've noticed." Geoff shrugged it off. "Rich, too, Geoffrey," Phil teased, forever the matchmaker. "She wouldn't be after your money." Geoff had had enough of those. "And like you, she runs 5-10 miles a day."

Geoff laughed. "Will you shut the fuck up. I can't concentrate."

Carol attended expensive private Catholic schools through college at Salve Regina in Newport. She spent her junior year abroad in France and speaks fluent Gaelic, French, Italian, and Spanish. She is proficient in German, Yiddish, and Hebrew. Geoff took note of the last three. Carol was one of five children who had the same advantages, coming from generations of wealth. As the families grew, so did the capital. In Ireland, they were landed aristocracy. In the States, oil and stock market wealth.

Carol's photographic memory was suspected at age two when she would repeat highway billboard signs, magazine articles, and book pages by rote. Though this gift did not necessarily denote superior intelligence, it did in Carol's case. All siblings were equally intelligent, a brother even more so; but Carol's memory made her appear the brightest. She finished college at eighteen and went back to France to visit the family with whom she'd stayed during her junior year. She studied at the Sorbonne and achieved a doctorate in music theory. She came back to the States and received a doctorate in English Literature from Dartmouth College at twenty-two and delivered her son the next month. She preferred the grammar and structure of English and wanted to teach it. "You'd be surprised at the doctoral dissertations and so-called intelligentsia who can't construct a simple sentence." Knowing she could be shooting herself in the foot, she told her students, "Speaking, of course is different." The King's English was paramount in her writing courses. With her anathema for grammatical errors and compulsion to correct them at an earlier age, she appeared the snob. Somewhat a loner, partly due to her intelligence, she did try to mix but preferred sitting alone, for what hours she had, reading or listening to classical music. Those hours were so precious to her because most of her time was spent in the gym. At sixteen she dominated the 1964 Olympics in gymnastics winning four gold medals. Carol has always been physically active, perhaps trying to contradict the cerebrotonic ectomorph stereotype of the super intelligent. She didn't 'look' smart. She taught gymnastics to children on Saturdays and started a team at the college. With her reputation as an Olympic gymnast, she was able to pull in some Olympians and make the collegiate team a strong Division I contender. She also played softball on the woman's faculty team. Geoff smiled. "Softball and gymnastics. Doesn't fit her image."

"She doesn't like images or stereotypes." Phil grinned. "Like you."

Geoff casually flipped off his friend saying, "You seem to know a lot about her."

"Keep reading."

Carol volunteered for the Music Appreciation course when the incumbent professor became ill and took a month's leave that stretched into a year, then never returned. She was promoted to Full Professor in that department the following year and it was her favorite course, even though most of the students took it to fill out an elective requirement. She was already Full Professor in English and the music position raised some eyebrows, even at that unorthodox college. Carrie agreed to take a 25% cut in that salary position and fill in until someone else was hired. No one ever was. She was well liked by her students but was considered tough. None of her courses was a 'gut' course. Students rated her as an excellent teacher, knowledgeable of the subject matter, enjoyed teaching, had a good rapport with the students, but 'tough' as well as compassionate and, above all, fair.

Psychologically Carol was well adjusted, tolerant, and again compassionate. She was very sentimental – not overly emotional – but the little things did matter. Her devotion to friends and family was unequalled. She was loyal to a fault. "Christ, what's she doing? Bucking for sainthood? Where's the dirt?"

"Maybe she isn't dirty, Geoffrey."

"Bullshit, she may have worn silk diapers, but they get just as messy." He glanced up at Phil. "And are harder to clean." He went back to the folder.

Carol Elizabeth Connor married Stephen H. Courtney, a promising international banker, and they had two children, Stephen and Margaret (Molly) within three years of their marriage. "The goddess of fertility," Geoff cracked, always taking note of such things. After her husband's death, Carol suffered a near breakdown and was sent to a psychiatrist by Ronald Collier, her husband's boss in the CIA. The doctor, unbeknownst to her, was an E-facet shrink from STONE whom Geoff knew. It read:

"I saw Carol Connor Courtney at the request of Ronald Collier who has shown some concern for the subject after the death of her husband, Stephen Courtney. Mrs. Courtney would not submit to any drugs or hypnosis so this report is based entirely on conversations with her. She is also seeing, but not professionally, Dr. Kenneth Thomas, a family friend and psychiatrist in private practice and at Bellevue.

Mrs. Courtney is an attractive 30 year-old female and mother of two children. Mr. Collier asked me to see her based on certain actions she has taken in the last month. After her husband's death, Mrs. Courtney was unusually distraught and Mr. Collier feared suicide. Her state of mind was primarily the loss of her husband rather than the inability to cope with reality. For the last month, Carol filled her loss, when the empty bed became unbearable (three months after his death) with several men. She had become withdrawn but projected an outward appearance of good sociability.

Although Mrs. Courtney is tolerant of others, she expects perfection from herself and has not forgiven herself for her sudden promiscuity. She accepts it as wrong and would not presume to condemn or pass judgment on another person, but would understand and forgive. Just not herself. She was discreet and never brought it home. She didn't want her children to think she was replacing their father. She had a good sexual relationship with her husband and neither of them was ever unfaithful. She therefore may consider her actions as infidelity. It is the opinion of this psychiatrist that Carol Courtney is neither depressive nor suicidal, particularly the latter as she is a devout Catholic. She has coped remarkably well from the loss of her husband in such a short time and has decided to go back to teaching now that her children are in school full time. Carol is home when they arrive from school, but in my opinion, is somewhat overprotective, perhaps out of guilt. I have dismissed her from my care and will see her on a PRN basis only."

Geoff shook his head, "Professor Super Mom," and closed the file. He thought, "Of course the sonovabitch showed concern. He wanted her alive to find out what she knew." But he was left utterly confused following the psychological profile and decided to ask Phil.."Did you know her?"

Phil shook his head. "Saw her at Courtney's funeral, of course."

"You're going to meet her again this afternoon."

"To check for bugs. I know."

Geoff nodded and added. "But I want you to size her up."

"You're better at that than I am."

"I have my own opinion and it doesn't fit this psychological." He tossed the file to Phil whose modesty was not lost on Trevor.

"What doesn't fit?"

"I'll let you decide." Someone had to be objective where Carol Courtney was concerned.

Phil and Geoff left the bar and drove to the Courtney estate taking in the ten-acre beachfront property as they passed through an open iron gate and over a small bridge above a quiet stream a few hundred yards from the house. While Geoff was wondering why the gates were open, Phil was admiring the property. "Jesus, Geoffrey, what are they paying teachers these days? I know Courtney was loaded, but this sure as hell doesn't fit any image I ever had," Phil exclaimed as he walked up the marble steps to the four-story country French brick mansion. "And why the hell are the gates open?" he finally asked. They stood on the porch and surveyed the grounds. The pool, tennis court, playhouse were fairly close to the house leaving the land that stretched to the Atlantic untouched except for a gazebo overlooking the water. It was peaceful, sedate, and above all, elegant. Anciens riche, Geoff thought.

Geoff sighed disturbing the silence. "Shall we? Unbeknownst to her, Madame Courtney awaits." He rang the bell and when Carrie answered, laughed at the incongruity. She had changed from her linen suit to her softball uniform of navy shorts with navy and white shirt and matching socks. "What? No butler?" he asked in his best nouveau riche fashion. God, what legs!

"We don't have a butler." She seemed surprised to see them.

"That's what I like. A girl who answers her own door." He looked at the double paneled oak doors and amended his statement, "doors, rather."

She didn't like his sarcasm and answered quickly, "I won't apologize for my family's wealth any more than you should apologize for your family's lack of it." Phil raised his brows and exchanged glances with Geoff. Carrie was again angry with herself for having spoken that way, letting him get to her, especially in front of a stranger. Damn him! "I'm sorry. Please come in."

Geoff looked around the spacious entry. "Christ, what do you have here? Twenty square?"

"Heavens no." She knew he meant 20,000 square feet of house.

"Eighteen?"

"No."

"And why in hell are your gates open?"

"The kids will be home soon."

She decided he was trying to annoy and/or distract her as Phil brushed passed her with a small metal box. And before she could say anything else, Geoff showed her a note that read: My house was bugged. Phil will check yours. She looked shocked and started to speak but Geoff covered her mouth with a small kiss then nodded to Phil to check the house. While she liked the potential his lips offered, she didn't respond. "Fortunately for you I rarely hit men."

"Fortunate for you. I hit back." Which wasn't quite true, at least not in a social sense.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she said more to herself and closed the door to follow Phil down the long foyer as he scanned the layout. She introduced Geoff to Mary and Joseph, a husband and wife team who had been with the Courtneys since they were married. "Mary and Joseph," he nodded and cast an aside to Carrie, "She isn't pregnant is she?"

She wasn't about to ask him if he knew how many times she'd heard that, but smiled politely. She wrote a small note telling them to ignore the man they had just seen. They nodded their understanding and left.

"You ready for the game tonight?" Geoff was very friendly.

"Yes. And we're gonna kill 'em," she said in true competitive spirit.

He nodded his approval of her tone. "Wanna warm up?" It wasn't a polite question.

"Please. My batting average is beginning to match my ERA."

She started out the door and he followed. Christ, those legs, he though again. "We need equipment," he said rather sharply.

Carrie tilted her head and said slowly, "Out here." He followed and she stopped a few yards from the house. "Is your friend loyal to you or Collier?" Let him wonder why I asked that stupid question.

"Why?"

"If my house is bugged, Collier, or whoever, may also have a way of tapping into or retrieving tapes from my cameras at the entrance and throughout the house."

"We took care of that." He was surprised she hadn't made him work for that information. "Why didn't you see us coming then?"

"I did."

He hadn't thought she was faking her surprise at seeing him. He'd be more alert. "Oh."

"Make sure they're in working order when you leave, please."

"Will do." He gave her a one-finger salute and followed her around to the side of the house where he saw a batting stand, electric pitcher, and net. Beside that was a shed. "You take this seriously. Tell me, your secret desire was or is to be a major leaguer." He looked around the yard at basketball court, tennis court and added, "Or decathlete."

"Woman can't be decathletes." He bit back a smile at her indignation. "I have two children who do many sports." They went into the shed and Trevor saw all kinds of sports equipment. Football, baseball, soccer, basketball, tennis, and even gymnastics equipment. "An Olympic gymnast, hunh?"

"You remember that?"

"I remember the commentator making a big deal out of your being a sophomore in college at sixteen." He stuck his tongue out at her in jest and she had to chuckle. "I graduated at 17." Carrie whipped her head to him in confusion. "What?" Christ, what'd I say?

"Bright boy. Pick a mitt."

Geoff tried a few of the mitts while Carrie took her own and reached for a bat. "Help yourself." She gestured to the row of bats. "Or do you just want to talk?"

Damn, she's sure of herself. "I, at least, can walk and talk simultaneously."

She smiled, "I'll try to keep up."

"You mentioned ERA. You the pitcher?"

"More often short. But it seems when I do pitch, I can't hit."

He chuckled at her tone. "And that pisses you off."

"And maybe that's my problem."

She set up the automatic pitcher and stood ready to swing. "What was his approach?" Trevor asked. She swung and popped it up. "You're too early and got under it. Stand back in the box and count to two," he advised.

"Do this for me and I'll step up the process on clearing you husband," she quoted.

"Right."

"Right." She took another swing and this time connected. "Thank you."

"Good shot." He fielded it well and looked good doing it, she thought. God, he's in great shape. Every muscle in proper working order.

"He said you were the only one who could bring in Rhinehart and it would obviously be in my best interest since he had been Steve's friend."

"Bullshit."

"I know." Another hit and - with pleasure - she watched him chase it.

"Did he tell you how to play me?"

"He made a suggestion or two."

"Seduce me or seduce me?"

"I said no to both." She hit it harder.

"Pissed you off, didn't it?" he said through a grin. He looked over his shoulder after the ball. "I'm not chasing that one. Maybe you should think of that the next time at bat. Why'd you say no?"

"You're too experienced, and not just in the intelligence field, to fall for something that obvious." She narrowed her brows. "No matter how much you play the obnoxious roué."

He winked at that. "There is subtle seduction."

"To you that's obvious." Solid hit. "And it wouldn't work."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Of course." She dropped the bat. "Hit to me, please. I could also use fielding practice."

They walked towards each other and Geoff stopped in front of her. "Would you do it?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Stupid question." He walked to home place. "What did he say?"

"Do it anyway."

Geoff thought he knew why. Now he had to figure which way to play it and keep them both, Carrie and Collier, in the dark. Dammitt!!! He hit the ball so hard that if Carrie hadn't had the quick reflexes she had and jumped out of the way, she would have been seriously hurt. Maybe even killed. "Jesus!" He rushed to her. "God, I'm sorry. Are you all right?" He was furious with himself and it almost showed.

"Why don't we just throw some," she suggested.

"No. You asked me to hit to you." He was determined to do it. "Let's go." He walked away and yelled back, "What was it I said about walking and talking simultaneously? Is it too late to retract it?"

He went a little easier. In fact the first ball barely reached her. "A man of extremes."

"It was almost Extreme Unction," he said, still a little angry with himself. Carrie laughed at the reference to the Last Rites of the Catholic Church and he had to smile in response to her infectious laughter. He hit one a bit harder to her left and she fielded it well.

"Can you swing a little earlier? I need to work to the right." She smiled. "My right."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't want to do it, but I couldn't promise you or anyone, under given circumstances, that I wouldn't try my damndest. If I thought I could do it, that is."

Trevor was loath to admit that the possibility existed. She could probably coax him and wouldn't need sex to do it. Does she know that? How much does she know? Does Collier know it? Rather, Diamond? Geoff had told him he wanted no part of this family. _"_ _Why would he tell her to seduce me when he knows that doesn't work?"_ _he asked Ffoeg, his alter ego._

" _To see what you would do. What's your usual SOP?"_

" _Go along with it. Use it."_

" _And if you refuse her advances?"_

" _Shit. And compromise both of us. So do I pop her?"_

" _Could you?"_

" _Christ, Ffoeg, I probably couldn't get it up with her."_

" _Think she'll play along?"_

" _With my coming up short?"_

" _No, dumbass. Your idea."_

He put the bat down and said to Carrie, "Let's talk."

"Just talk and not walk?" She knew he had decided something.

He smiled absentmindedly at the reference. "You're good, by the way. Very quick and great hands." As well as legs, he added silently. He was definitely a leg man.

"Thank you." She walked along side him. "I've been trying to think this out, but I need some input."

"Shoot."

"I'm not prying, but what do you do in similar situations?"

Christ, was she listening to my thoughts? "In most instances, play it out."

"Okay, play it out." Geoff stopped and looked down at her. "I don't mean in bed. I told him I wasn't going to do that."

"But he wants you to." He started to walk again.

"And if I do? What next? Where can I stop?"

"Maybe you can't."

Now, she stopped. "I will," she said emphatically. "Look, neither of us wants to do this. Why did he think I would, or could, convince you?"

"Because you don't want to." He wouldn't, couldn't tell her the real reason.

"So? Neither do you."

"He's not really sure of that." Yeah, right. Diamond knows damn well I want no part of this.

"So if I cry defenseless, you'll have pity on me and go see him?" Her voice didn't even go along with that.

Trevor shrugged. "Given your circumstances, it's worth a shot."

"Then why not tell me to use that approach?" She was becoming frustrated.

" _She's also mentally quick,"_ Ffoeg warned. " _Careful."_

"Would you?" he asked her.

"No more than the coquette, I suppose."

"It's more of what I may respond to rather than how you should convince me." He shrugged. "I don't know. How well does he know you?"

"You know him better than I. How thorough is he?"

More than I hope you know, he thought, and ignored the fact that she hadn't really answered his question. "Quite. It's better never to assume he doesn't know something. Crediting him with omniscience has saved many an ass. And the counter positive has more often been the case."

"Counter positive?" He shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Thank you. But as I told you, I'm afraid I'm out of my element."

"Keep thinking that way." He tossed the ball in front of her so that it fell into her mitt as she took the next step. She did the same and they walked and tossed, talking little. "You have two kids." A statement. "One each?"

"And?" she asked guardedly.

He smiled. "Just making conversation." He 'dropped' the ball behind him and turned around to pick it up. "When I stand, touch my arm and face me." She did as instructed. "Let's kiss and run." She nodded and he held her head in his hands and kissed her, sweetly at first, then with a growing passion. At least it looked that way. Carrie, however, felt a chill and said, "Good God..."

"Save it," he said and kissed her again. They walked with a place to go in their step. Once inside, Geoff released her hand, none too soon as far as she was concerned, and went looking for Phil. He found him in the music room. Phil held out a tape for Carrie to play. She put in the Wagnerian opera and Phil adjusted the speakers. "Why bug a music room?" he asked. "But I don't want to take any chances."

"We have AV company," Geoff told him. "In a tree just over the wall."

"They pick you up?" Phil asked

Trevor shook his head. "He was just setting up his mic and not looking at me when I spotted him. We're going to do a hornier-than-thou quickie while you proof this room. Bedroom's hot isn't it?"

Carrie just listened wide-eyed and dropped chin as Phil nodded. She hadn't seen any of this. "Headboard, footboard, two lamps, and a Renoir."

"Cameras?"

"Not that I found."

Geoff grabbed Carrie's hand and started out. She balked. "I promise, you won't feel a thing."

"So I've heard."

Geoff smiled and Phil broke up. "It wasn't that goddamn funny," Trevor told his friend.

The master bedroom was a sanctuary. Carrie hadn't changed much since she had occupied the room with her husband. It was various shades of blue with matching silk wallpaper. The bed was a huge four-poster the size of an Olympic swimming pool, as far as Geoff saw. His own wasn't much smaller, but this one with its light blue silk spreads seemed to invite lazy afternoons and sensual nights. French doors opened out on a balcony the size of a small bedroom. Of course, it overlooked the ocean and the breeze felt cool on their slightly damp skin. "You're going to be fun," Geoff set the tone once they stepped into the room. He jumped for the bed and landed flat on his back. He tapped the bed beside him for her to join him. She dove and rolled. He chuckled. "Let me at least do that for you." It was a hint.

"Thank you. The last time I was this flustered," she said, "I was 30 years old."

He laughed. She had just turned thirty one. "Don't make me laugh. I want this to last at least five minutes."

"Hmm." Her pursed lips nearly had him reconsider just acting out this little scene. "Seems appropriate." They only pretended to get undressed.

Geoff laughed again. "Thanks a helluva lot."

"Haven't you heard? It isn't the size that counts."

"Tell that to a short one." Carrie grinned and Geoff laughed knowing her thought. "You'll pay for that one." He apparently knocked her down on the bed because the listener heard her scream and laugh. They kissed to keep up the pretense, but Geoff was obviously just making noise. His kisses were completely without feeling. "Mm," he said glancing at his watch, "I'm not sure how much longer I can hold off." At least it sounded real.

"Do you want me to hold you off?"

He frowned. That wasn't what he wanted her to say. He caught the grin. "You little shit." Ignore those sensuous lips, he told himself. This was getting tough.

"Who's talking little?" Not me. Even unaroused she could feel that.

He chuckled. "You're not going to let me make five minutes are you?"

"What do I get if I win?"

"Name it."

"If I win first place, five minutes. If I win second," she feigned a yawn, "ten." Geoff broke up and Carrie laughed with him. "Come on, Trevor, lose it."

"Not a chance." He lay flat on his back to avoid looking at her. She followed suit.

"What if I do this?" She was almost tempted, out of spite.

He grit his teeth. "Nope." And he groaned with supposed pleasure. "Ah, God."

"Are you sure?" He must be a eunuch.

"Yep." He glanced at his watch again. Rebuked, Carrie jumped on him and he expelled a grunt. He flipped her onto her back and loomed over her. "Now it's my turn and you're gonna pay." Feeling her body under him, he wondered who was going to pay. He had a strange sensation, not at all pleasant and wondered about it.

"Oh, God, not ten minutes!"

"You were a gymnast, right?" He tasted bile. Jesus, I'm going to throw up!

"Yes." Her eyes questioned him. What does he have against me personally?

"Do a backbend." Get off her!!!

"What?" She'd heard of his extensive repertoire. But this?

"That bridge thing, right? Do it." He motioned for her to actually do one. She did. Geoff sat between her legs giving her the idea he wanted conveyed.

"What are you doing?" As if I need to ask.

Trying to keep from showing you a well-digested lunch. "What's it feel like?"

"Like you cheated me out of the full five minutes of working on you." She said through a convincing gasp.

"Let's up the ante." He was beginning to return to normal. Jesus!

"To what?"

"How would you like first prize to be ten full minutes of this? Come down a minute. Relax." When she flopped down beside him, he began his scenario. "Do everything you know to make me lose it in under five minutes." She looked into his eyes trying to read something, anything. He didn't let her see anything but saw the confusion in hers. He tried a reassuring grin.

"Not fair," she finally said. "You've already used three of those minutes."

"You get another full five."

She seemed to consider it. "Deal. Turn over." She motioned for him to lie across the bed.

"It's not that hard to find," he protested.

She chuckled and lay beside him and put her mouth to his ear. "Whatever you do," she whispered in French, "don't let me win." He turned to look at her and she mouthed, "please." He nodded. She'd have to come up with something later to tell him. After five minutes of moans, groans, and protests, she said, "All right, you win."

"Thank you." I might have to redefine win.

"And then again, maybe I won. I may have wanted nothing."

"Bullshit. You wanted nothing like I wanted nothing." He mouthed, what now? She gestured as if shifting a car gear stick. He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Let's reverse it. Same bet for me on you."

"I'll take that challenge," she said smugly. And lost. "You win again." She collapsed from her backbend in supposed climax. She had accomplished her goal.

And so had he. "Christ, I should have said ten minutes." He was feeling much better.

"You're going to have to teach me control," Carrie told him.

"And I thought it was my expertise."

"You would." And they both laughed.

"I loved what you were doing. I almost lost it," he said, reinforcing his ploy.

She winced and he saw that it was contrary to hers. "Liar."

"Sounded good though, didn't it?" He sighed. "Felt good, too." And for the next few minutes, Geoff pretended that it did. "God, you're not only fun, you're damn good."

"I try harder," she said taking off on the commercial.

"And I can't get any harder. Come 'ere." He poised over her. "And, Jesus, you're sensual." Christ, don't tell me I'm getting hard now. Don't!!

She redefined bedroom eyes. "You seem surprised."

I am. "The way you swing a bat, I thought about wearing a codpiece."

"I thought you were."

He laughed, wiggled his eyebrows and collapsed on the bed. "God, I need a drink." God, do I!

After they were out of the room, Carrie asked, "What do you think?"

"Why did you want me to win?"

Later came sooner than she wanted. "I would think that was obvious."

"He wouldn't care if you 'lost', whatever that is."

"But I wouldn't have to do it again."

"You already won."

"Not if you get bored with me. With that." She pointed to the bedroom.

"I don't work that way."

She rolled her eyes. "Great. Now you tell me." He snickered. "Then why did we stage that little number?"

"Stall for time. You can still work on me."

"In bed?"

" _That_ would be boring." Yeah, right.

"Thank you very much."

He chuckled again. "I mean, bedroom manipulation is boring. We go on from there."

"To where?"

"The library for starters. We'll wait for Phil."

The library was a masculine room and it too had not been changed much since Carrie's husband's death. Being in the turret, the room was circular and walnut paneling covered half the room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the other half with a sliding staircase that enabled the reader to reach the upper shelves. A walnut roll top desk was placed in front of the French doors and green leather furniture scattered about the room. Geoff knew he had to comment. "God, how nouveau riche," he said looking at the barrel ceiling.

"Does that mean you like it?  
He smiled. "I love it!" So why in hell am I so uncomfortable in here?

"Seventeen-five-fifty," she said of the square footage of her house. "Drink? Laphroaig?"

"One of 'em. How did you know?"

Carrie winced at her mistake but recovered nicely. "Your hedonistic preferences are common campus knowledge. Was I correct?"

"Yes. What do you drink?"

"Very little." She went to a build-in cabinet and pressed a button. A bar rotated from the wall and Carrie selected the scotch and glass. "Ice?"

"Neat, please." Geoff watched her pour the whiskey, glance at him with a question in her eyes. "That's good, thanks. I bet you've never been drunk," he said for conversation. He was sure this room was hot too.

"You win." She sat in the companion chair opposite him. "Actually, I tried once and went broke." She feigned a more cordial attitude although she didn't quite feel it.

He smiled and nodded for her to continue. That was better. "Shirley Temples don't count," he prompted.

"Listen to this. I had six Heineken, three Margaritas, two Tom Collins' an apricot stinger, and four each Black and White Russians. And of course to round off the nationalities, two Irish whiskeys."

He laughed. "God, and you weren't comatose?" This was the man she remembered from the dance.

"Never even felt it." She was still amazed and showed it in her delivery. "They, whoever 'they' are, say that the Irish lack a particular enzyme that enables them to hold their liquor. So much for stereotypes." She was now being genuinely sociable and he enjoyed her effervescent personality. "Until that time, that particular bar had a drink they called a 'Virgin Carrie' because I rarely drank anything stronger than a coke."

"What prompted that one?"

"We, our baseball team, won the tournament and since I'd never been drunk, the team decided to kill two birds..."

"With one stone," he interrupted and watched her reaction. Nothing. "And never since?"

"Not really any reason."

"And a colossal waste of money," he added. He glanced up at Phil who appeared in the doorway. The agent nodded for them to leave the room. "I hear you're quite the music maven and have an extensive collection."

She took the hint. "Would you like to see the music room?"

He rose from the couch. "Delighted." They talked as they left the room. "What composers do you like?"

"Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, Wagner..."

"You can stop. I get the idea."

The music room was a spacious hall with the masters' busts carved in the Italian marble columns that cornered the room. It was acoustically sound with a high ceiling with paintings of cherubim floating on air and clouds. Hidden speakers were placed throughout the room for equal sound. In one corner was a grand piano of Honduras mahogany, one of two in the house. Overstuffed furniture was placed, it seemed, randomly throughout the room on or beside some Aubusson and Oriental rugs scattered over the Calacatta marble floor throughout the room.. The overall effect was one of comfort and relaxation.

"I suppose you like Bach," Carrie commented as she sat with legs akimbo on a comfortable plush light blue sofa. She watched Phil flip through her music.

"Guessing?" he asked again cueing her.

"Yes." And she was. "I like 'Air for G String' she offered almost as a token of Bach.

"And of course, 'Ave Maria'," he said as he sat next to her. He placed his drink on the table in front of him.

She laughed. "Of course." She was confused. She had assumed this room was clear or why did Phil bring them in here? Geoff understood but couldn't help her. He signed, "Do you know sign?" She laughed. Apparently she did. "What's so funny?" he asked.

Damn, she thought. "Your liking the Baroque period is somewhat..." she stalled deliberately, "..interesting."

"Oh?" He smiled at her quick recovery and nodded for her to continue. He also told her in sign that they had to keep up the ruse for a few minutes so as not to tip off the listeners that they had discovered them.

"It was during the classical period that the composers had more control over the instruments," she began, "whereas in the Baroque period it was left to the discretion of the performer. I can't see you relinquishing any control to anyone."

"Interesting hypothesis...from the view of the composer."

"You're a performer then."

Geoff smiled. She was doing fine. He watched her rest her elbows on her knees and lean on her hands. She looked like a ten-year old kid. "Maybe an instrument."

She turned her head and eyed him appraisingly. "You? Never." She startled as he touched her. He smiled then softly stroked her back and her eyes closed as if on cue. "Oh God, you don't know what that does to me."

"Relinquishes control?"

"Mmm." She was already gone.

"Repeat after me: I love Bach, I love Bach," he monotoned.

She giggled like a ten-year old kid too. He had to keep reminding himself of her age and intelligence. He caught the smile on Phil's face who must have been thinking the same thing. He winked at Geoff who responded with the finger. He watched as Phil played with some equipment and went back to Carrie. "May I put on Bach?"

"Unh unh." Eyes still closed, "the Andante Cantabile would go very nicely here."

"Tchaikovsky? Jesus, no. The sonovabitch was always depressed."

"Then the third movement of Rachmaninoff's Second Symphony."

"Unh unh."

"Second movement to the Second Concerto?" All soothing interludes.

"Nope."

She put her hand on her hips and turned on him in a campy seductive farce, batting her lashes and pursing her lips. "Well, mister, your Bach or mine." She then ruined the effect by rolling her eyes. "How's that for millet?" Phil moved into vision again and Carrie's eyes lost their play and followed his movements.

"You drive a hard bargain, lady," Geoff said bringing her back to the discussion.

"Compromise?" The question was to him, the eyes still on Phil.

"Not Air for G-String."

"Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor," she suggested.

"Jesus," he laughed, "that sounds more like a ball buster than a back scratcher." He glanced at Phil who shook his head. No, not that piece. Geoff nodded that he understood. "Let's try contemporary." Phil nodded. Words, they needed words. Carrie almost suggested, "Secret Agent Man," but caught herself just short of a laugh.

"Rod Stewart."

"Sounds like a cow in heat."

"Barry Manilow."

"Sounds like the cow's other half."

"Neil Diamond."

"Nope." Jesus Christ, why'd she say, diamond? I was going to.

" _Then why didn't you say it first,"_ Ffoeg asked him. They both knew why. Geoff had a suspicion that Carrie might know also and wasn't sure whether he liked it.

"Do you have any Streisand?  
"Yes." She smiled. "I have Streisand and Diamond."

He laughed. "I quit. Go ahead."

Carrie went to her collection and talked as she flipped through her tapes. "You just like Bach because he made it with every woman he met."

"Hmm. I'll have to read his memoirs."

Carrie laughed and put on the music. Thank God, she thought. She and Phil joined Geoff near the speaker.

"I think we're clean here," Phil said. Geoff introduced them.

"What can I get you Mr. Savage?"

"Whatever's convenient, Mrs. Courtney. And it's Phil."

"Thank you, Phil. And I'm Carol."

"I'll get the drinks," Trevor offered. "Did you mask them or not find any in here?"

"Masked them." He looked at Carrie. "It's why I wanted words. Your voices could more easily be picked up with just music. Actually, I would prefer a radio or talk show of some sort, but that would be too obvious."

"So would I," Geoff said listening to, "You Don't Bring Me Flowers." Carrie had to chuckle. Geoff returned with the drinks and sat next to her. "What's left?"

"I want to check the lower level and the attic. Here's what I have so far." He handed Geoff the diagram and Trevor showed it to Carrie. "That's all of them?" He was looking over the diagram waiting for an answer. When he didn't get it, he looked up at Phil and saw the expression of a dog that had just been told to leave the room. He laughed and handed the paper to Carrie. "What do you want to do?"

"You're letting me handle it?" she asked surprised that he consulted her.

"It's your ballgame."

"Until Friday, that is."

He lifted his glass in a salute "Until Friday."

"Then what will you do?"

"I don't plan that far ahead." He listened to the music and said, "I wish Bach had words to it?"

"I had enough of him at lunch and in my apprish class today."

"Must have been by request."

"It was. Wayne Redman, in fact."

"Him again. I may pass him yet." He gave her a Machiavellian grin. "Be careful, he may try to put the moves on you."

"He did." She wished she hadn't said that.

"I _will_ pass him."

"About the bugs," she said changing the subject. "What did you do with yours?"

"Pitched 'em."

"Then that's what I'll do." She made a definitive move when Geoff took her arm and gently pulled her back down onto the couch.

"Not yet, dummy. Jesus, _what's_ your IQ?"

She glared at him because of the way he posed the question. "You read my file."

"Turn about's fair play. Mine's one point higher." He was staying away from the personal data and nudged her playfully. "Dummyette," he teased coining his own French word. Dumb she wasn't, little she was.

"You must have seduced the tester." Phil laughed appreciating the statement. She continued. "Assuming he knows you found the bugs, what would be your next move?"

"Come over here."

"And?"

"Feel you up first." She jerked her head to him as Phil closed his eyes. "I mean out," he quickly corrected himself making a joke of it. He gave her a Cheshire grin and she stifled a chuckle. He was acting like her nine-year old son. But he had his reasons.

"And afterwards?" she prompted.

"Smoke a cigarette?" It was Carrie's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's been so-o-o-o long since I was tested," he lamented. Phil checked his watch and Carrie laughed. "Ah ha!" Geoff said. "You're not the prude you pretend to be."

"You pinned that label on me. I didn't pretend to be anything."

"Wait just a goddamn minute."

"I didn't," she insisted. Geoff waved her silent. Carrie wasn't used to his abrupt switches in thought. "What? You changed trains too fast." But that was part of the game, she realized, not that he was playing one.

He looked at Phil. "When's the last time you checked my place?"

"Thoroughly about a week ago. Clean."

Geoff looked at Carrie for the same information. "Steve checked all the time while he was working...on his last case. I did for a while after he died. When there weren't any, I stopped checking as often. I can only assume these were planted...just recently."

Geoff rightly attributed her slight hesitations to Phil's presence. But he also knew she was lying – at least partly. She'd already mentioned the cameras.

"You think they were independent, Geoffrey?"

"If Carol's are more than, say, a week, yes. Which leads me to two conclusions." He sounded like the math professor he was. "A, he wants something else from her." He deliberately kept his eyes from her. "Or, B," Now he did look at her. "he approached you longer ago than you're saying." She said nothing. "I want the truth if we're to figure this out." He wasn't harsh or severe. He was on her side.

"A month ago," she said quietly.

"Why did you wait so long?"

"Because I wanted to fail." Her voice was stronger.

Phil was surprised and Geoff pursed his lips in thought. "Can I get as honest an answer as to the reason?" She hesitated. "It's all right," Geoff assured her.

"He still works for him." She turned to Phil. "Excuse me, I don't mean to be discussing you in the third person." He nodded his forgiveness.

"Would you tell the Dean that Redman made a pass at you?" Geoff asked.

"No, but you would if you thought he'd kick him out." Geoff laughed. "That's a poor analogy anyway."

"Not really," Geoff countered. "You work for the dean."

"But my loyalty is to my students."

Geoff snapped his fingers. "Forgot again," he said lightly.

"And I'm surprised the Dean hasn't kicked you out yet."

Geoff shrugged and Phil answered. "He owns the place." A little give and take.

Carrie laughed. "I should have known."

"And it's our secret, okay?" Geoff asked.

She nodded. "You must be a good topic for the IRS over lunch."

"Why not? It's deductible."

She grinned then looked at Phil. "All right," she decided, as they knew she would. "I assumed, or realized, that he would make good his threats."

"Which are?"

"Irrelevant to this discussion."

Geoff nodded his acceptance for now. "So they were planted in both our houses for this."

"'A plague a both your houses'," Carrie mumbled quoting Mercutio from _Romeo and Juliet._

"Excuse me?" Geoff said not hearing her.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Sorry." He realized and smiled not giving away what he came to call her 'Brownie Brain', though it wouldn't have been unusual for an English professor to quote Shakespeare. "I have to keep these damn things until Friday?" she asked.

"Maybe longer. Do you talk in your sleep?"

"How would I know? I'm asleep." She gave him a grin. "Dummy."

"I thought someone might have mentioned it," he answered ruefully.

"Someone?" she teased.

"Fuck it." Carrie laughed and apologized. Phil chalked one up for Carrie. "Maybe I should really let you seduce me," Geoff posed.

"You wouldn't." Phil was impressed and he too was re-evaluating his opinion.

"I wouldn't?"

"Not if you thought I had anything to do with the bugs. Neither of us would relinquish control. Someone once told me that bedroom manipulation was boring."

"Good." He nodded his approval. "Then we'd probably better operate on that."

"So our little tryst upstairs wasn't a waste after all?" Phil burst out laughing and Geoff had to laugh with him. "I'm sorry." Carrie realized what she had said and chuckled herself. "I didn't mean it that way." She didn't.

Geoff nudged her playfully. "Yeah, right, Carrie," he teased.

She grinned. "You're right. I didn't feel a thing." Phil grinned and Carrie turned to him. "And you're right. It was that funny."

"Goddamn funny," Geoff reminded her of his exact words, knowing she rarely swore.

"Goddamn hilarious," she shot back and Phil burst out laughing again.

Geoff chalked up another one for Carrie and added, "Fuck you both."

"I think I'll get back to work," Phil said. "This is worse than Nam."

"Now there was a waste," from both Carrie and Geoff with his adding, "Politics as usual."

Chapter Four

Children are the anchors

of a mother's life.

Sophocles

Phil left the room only seconds before Carrie's two children ran into the room to greet their mother. They were in school uniforms, Molly a plaid skirt and navy blazer, and Steve in white shirt, tie, gray slacks, and navy blazer. Carrie hugged and kissed them feeling a comfort Geoff couldn't describe. Nor could he describe the sudden ache in his belly. He felt the intruder. Molly was a clone of her mother. Small and cute with big blue eyes and disarming smile. Steve was more like his father, darker with nearly black hair. But he too had Carrie's eyes. He was a handsome boy who looked older than his just-turned nine years. Carrie made the introductions then went back to her children. "How'd your day go?"

"Sorry, Mom, I still despise English." Steve laid his books on the glass table. "They're not teaching us anything you haven't already taught us."

"You find grammar as dry as I find mathematics."

"There's at least some logic to mathematics. I can't see any in grammar."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Carrie countered logically. "And there is logic in grammar."

"I didn't say it didn't exist. I just said I didn't see it. And yes it's dry. But onward and forward." Carrie looked at his artwork and praised his talent. "This isn't logical, but it's at least fun, and not dry," he said.

"And quite good." His mother repeated. Carrie looked at her seven-year old daughter who was quieter than usual. "Molly?" The little clone seemed reticent to discuss her day in front of a stranger.

"Would you like me to leave?" Geoff asked politely and hid his grin.

"No, sir. I'll handle it. It's just about a friend and I," Molly said.

"A friend and me," her mother corrected and Molly repeated the correction.

"About is a preposition, O2 (pronounced oh-two) brain," Steve's version of calling his sister an airhead.

"Stephen," Carrie warned. Geoff had to go to the recorder to check his laughter.

"Said it was dry," Steve mumbled.

Geoff lowered the volume and walked back as Molly said, "I'm going to play the piano. We'll talk later, Mommy."

Carrie knew the piano was Molly's escape as it was her own. She took her daughter's hand. "Why don't we see if Joseph has started the grill yet."

"O-ka-a-a-y," Molly dragged with a sigh, resigned to get it over. "I was just thinking...."

"There's an end to a perfect day," her brother quipped.

Geoff almost burst and Carrie, without missing a beat, admonished her son. "Thinking what, honey?"

"Remember we went on a field trip to Fulton's Market today." Geoff didn't know what it was, but he knew Fulton's Market was significant enough to create a momentary heavy silence.

"Did you see all the fishies?" he asked with a bright innocent smile.

Molly looked at him cocking her head to one side just like her mother. She then looked over at her brother and mouthed, "Fishies?" They started laughing. Carrie, herself, was ready to explode but bit her bottom lip to hold it. Geoff just acted confused.

"Do you want to skip the gym tonight?" Carrie asked her daughter.

"No. I want to put out my layout Tsuk." Pronounced like 'nuke'.

"That's a C salto, honey. You can't do that until twos. You're not even a three yet."

Geoff was lost on the lingo but deduced that the little girl was ahead of schedule.

Her brother confirmed it. "That's not her fault, Mom," he said in her defense. "She can't help it if she's too young to compete at her skill level."

"Thanks." Molly seemed surprised at his support and wondered where the catch was.

"Facts," he explained. "Nothing personal."

Trevor lowered his head and laughed in his chest, hopefully unnoticed.

"I'll go play the piano now," Molly said glaring at her brother. "I'll be in the morning room." She turned to their guest. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Trevor."

Geoff smiled and bowed slightly. "My pleasure, Molly." God, she was precious!

"I'm going over to Thud's and will be back in time for dinner." Steve extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Geoff accepted his hand. "You as well, Steve. Have fun, I think." The children left the room and Geoff collapsed on the couch. "God, they're beautiful!"

"Thank you." Carrie had the proud smile of a mother.

"What's a thud?"

"George Morrow Walker the Thud." She affected the Brahman accent too well and Geoff had to laugh. "A good friend, really. They just razz him about being the third."

Geoff picked up Steve's artwork and was amazed by the boy's talent. "Jesus, how old is he?"

"Nine going on twenty."

Trevor turned his head to the sound of Beethoven's 'Fur Elise.' "Molly?" Carrie nodded and smiled with a small sigh, which didn't go unnoticed. "That mean she's all right?"

Carrie nodded and said again, "Thank you." She knew he didn't want an explanation nor was she going to give him one. Fulton's Market was the last place Molly's father had taken her before he died. "You have a couple of gifted kids."

Not ten minutes later, Steve came in pulling a T-shirt over his head. "Who's that man, Mom?"

"He's an exterminator, honey."

"The electronic kind. I know what he was carrying. Is this about Dad?"

Trevor blew a silent 'whew' and went to the stereo. This was Carrie's son.

"We're going to talk, Steve," Carrie explained. "But I'm obviously not going to tell you everything. Just promise me to keep this in this room and above all, don't worry. Everything's fine."

Steve looked at Geoff then back to his mother. "Okay." He trusted her. He knew there were things she wouldn't discuss with him because of his age and security, but she never lied to him. "I'm sorry for the interruption. I'll go to Thud's now."

"See you at 5:30," Carrie said patting his arm.

"Bye. Goodbye again, Mr. Trevor."

"Bye, Steve. Have fun," he said again. Geoff watched him leave and shook his head. "Christ." He walked back over to the couch. "You handled that well."

"Would you like another drink?" Carrie was extremely protective and she didn't want Trevor's compliments or criticisms. She even resented him a little, that this was starting all over again.

"I'll get it." He walked back over to the bar and talked. "What's a C salto?"

"A flip. Degree of difficulty is ranked A, B, C, and D, with D being the most difficult. Molly is talking about a vault where she handsprings on and flips off in a laidout position. It's called a Tsukahara, named after the gymnast who invented it."

"Jesus, sounds hard. And you don't want her doing that stuff?"

"Not really. Not yet."

"You did it."

"The things she's doing now at seven I was doing at fourteen. It's getting too dangerous." Geoff winced at the slight stab of pain in his head. Carrie took it as his response to her statement. "At fourteen we were old enough to think, 'I could get hurt doing this.' At seven, you haven't suffered enough real injuries to realize it."

"So they're better? No fear?"

"I wouldn't say better, but less afraid, yes. And some are just naturally better." She shrugged. "And maybe I'm just being a mother, too. I love the sport and it's really very safe when done with proper coaching and equipment."

"Mom." Molly came running into the room dressed in workouts. Geoff didn't know there were leotards small enough to fit that little body, and what a specimen of toning and muscle. "Can you spot me?"

"Sure, honey." Carrie knew Molly had calmed sufficiently or she wouldn't have attempted to work out. It was a hard and fast rule. Stay off the equipment if you're upset or angry. They followed the little girl out of the room and Trevor caught Phil coming out of the kitchen.

"How's the basement," Geoff asked him.

"Not quite crawling, but there are a few. Here."

Trevor looked over the diagram. "Thanks. We'll be down there for a while." He joined Carrie and Molly in a full sized gymnasium with a spring floor. "Jesus," he mumbled under his breath. Carrie turned as he entered and caught the subtle nod. She frowned, angry. Molly jumped up on the beam and did a couple of leaps and jumps to warm up. Carrie stood beside her ready to grab her if she started to fall. Geoff stood back and watched.

"What do you want to do?" Carrie asked her daughter.

"Series." Carrie moved half way down the beam and Molly did a back handspring, hesitated, and did another one. Geoff sucked in air and waited to breathe.

Molly looked to her mother for a correction. "You didn't need to stop," the coach said. "You were on. Go again." Molly started again and just as she was finishing the first one, Carrie said, "Go." Geoff was wondering why she was encouraging her daughter when she didn't want her doing this stuff.

"I wanna do a gainer layout."

"No," her mother said. "Not yet. No gainers of any kind."

"Back tuck?"

"Standing back."

"If I hit it consistently, can I put it in the series?"

"Then it wouldn't be a standing back." It could be done in a series, but wasn't usual.

"Mom," she sighed.

"I'm not your coach." And I'll see that he doesn't let you either, she thought.

The first time, Geoff gasped, "Jesus Christ." Carrie glanced at him as if to say, _Do I make my point?_

"Let me show you my layout step out on the low beam," Molly told her mother. She jumped off the four-foot high beam and went to one only six inches off the floor.

"You've been doing these without a spot?" Carrie was angry.

"Only on the low beam with pads." Carrie cocked her head. "Honest, Mom."

"All right, let me see it." Molly whipped off two back handsprings and a layout step out with confidence. "Beautiful, honey," Carrie admitted.

"But your mom's right, Molly," Geoff spoke for the first time. "Give it time."

"Isn't it competable?" the girl asked using a gymnastic phrase of competition. Trevor turned away and rubbed the back of his head. "Is Mr. Trevor sick?" Molly asked, noticing Geoff's wince.

"He can't watch." Carrie was wondering if he had another headache.

He turned. "If you can do it, I can watch it. But may I stand on the other side?"

"Have you ever spotted before?" Carrie asked him.

"No, but I've caught before."

"Thanks, Mr. Trevor." She climbed back up on the beam.

He chuckled. "I'm sure you won't need me." As an afterthought, "or your mom." But the little girl did need her mother. She fell on her second back handspring and Carrie caught her. Geoff was too late only because Carrie had anticipated it.

"You were thinking about the layout and rushed through your second back handspring. Focus on one trick at a time. And get your chest up sooner."

"'Kay." She did it again and Carrie only righted her landing.

"Holy shit," Geoff blurted as he let out his breath. Carrie glowered at him and Molly giggled. He amended his language. "Beautiful."

Although Molly appreciated the compliment, he was no expert. She thanked him and turned to her mother. "I whipped it too much, didn't I? I undercut." She criticized her own performance.

"That happens in the beginning. You think you're running out of beam. You'll be fine, Honey. Great job!"

"Will you watch my layout Tsuk now?"

"Sweetie, what's the rush?"

"Janice Creighton is putting hers out today."

"Molly, Janice is 14 and a Class 1. She probably wants to compete it soon."

"When can I be a One?"

"After you've been a Four, Three, and Two. A few years yet."

"But I already know the One compulsories." She turned to Geoff. "Don't you think they should let me compete at least Two?"

"Who's they?" As if he could do something about it.

"USGF," Carrie answered. United States Gymnastics Federation. "Work on your full turns," she told her daughter and went back to Geoff. "She can't even compete Class III until she's nine. She'll be doing Four this year. And I'm sure she'll be bored to distraction."

"And you can't do this stuff in Four," he guessed.

"No. Four is compulsory only. She can't even do some of what she mentioned in Three."

"Then what are you going to do with her?"

"Let her perfect it, clean it up, and we'll see what happens when she's nine. Chin up, Molly." She didn't want to dampen the girl's enthusiasm too much so would add a little more difficulty. "You can try a 1 ½ if you want."

"Why are you coaching her if you don't want her in it?"

"It's not that I don't want her in it. Look at her. You think I could keep her out of it? I'd rather coach her, keep track, and see that she does it correctly and not get hurt than have her down here working on her own."

"Let me see you do something."

Her eyes widened. "I'm thirty years old. I can't do that stuff anymore. Some of it I never could do."

He knew that wasn't quite true. She was in too good of shape and if you have something like that in your blood, you have to at least play around with it. Molly, having heard the request, jumped off the beam. "Let's do your floor routine, Mom."

"I can't do that anymore. And it's nothing compared to today."

"A double back isn't nothing," Molly countered.

"Honey, I'd need someone to pop me." She saw Geoff stifle a grin and finished with her daughter, "or I'd break my fool neck. You go ahead."

"Double back?"

"Absolutely not."

"Double full?"

"One and a half."

"One and a half punch front full," she upped the ante.

"All right." Molly put a tape in the machine and pressed a button. She ran out on to the floor and assumed a pose. The music started.

"Tchaikovsky's First?" Geoff asked. "Strong music for a little kid."

"That was my music at sixteen."

"Was that before or after you were popped? Carrie had to laugh. He didn't miss a trick. "You had this music at the Games didn't you?" Carrie nodded and Geoff watched Molly do her mother's routine. "God, she's cute!"

"And I'll do everything humanly possible to see that she stays that way." She bolted for the floor and Trevor was right behind her. Carrie broke her daughter's fall. "I told you a one and a half."

"I got lost. I'm sorry."

"Molly, you were going for the double back and changed your mind when you saw I was watching."

"How do you know?"

"Don't lie to me."

"I haven't yet." Carrie's eyes narrowed and Molly knew the game was up. "I changed my mind to go for the double full."

"And I said no double full. You're off the gym tonight and out of here for the rest of the week."

"Mom!"

"You heard me, young lady. March."

"It's not fair!" Molly griped her way up the stairs. "I can do double fulls. AND double backs."

Carrie went to talk with her daughter and Geoff went off looking for Phil. After a time, he heard music coming from the library and followed the sound. Carrie was doing an imitation of Zubin Mehta on Wagner's Tannhauser. "Hi," he said pleasantly.

She turned on him. "How can you not like that?"

"Too emotional." He gave her a pointed look.

"All artists are emotional."

"Present company included."

She ignored the reference. "It's MUSIC!"

He let her get it out of her system and walked to the stacks. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

After a sufficient amount of time, he said, "The Stone Guide to Dog Grooming." He kept his back to her and concentrated on her voice.

"I have three Afghans." Nothing unusual. Normal tone of voice. No hitches or hesitations.

Stupid idea, anyway. "Really? What kind?"

"Cream, Red, and a Black."

"Do you groom them yourself?" She cocked her head waiting for the nouveau riche routine. "No," he said through a pleasant smile. "I'm serious."

"Sometimes. But I also have groomer who comes to the house."

"Who do you use?" She knit her eyebrows and he looked exasperated. "I have two Danes, a Fawn and a Brindle."

"There's not much to grooming Danes."

"And I do it myself, but I'd also like to get someone."

"I'll give you his card."

"Where are they now?" In other words, why didn't they meet him at the gate?

"I took them to the groomer this morning instead of his coming here today. They get to socialize with other dogs."

"My Dane's just like to run." He was genuinely interested and they talked dogs for a few minutes, then switched to general topics. He was more the man she had read about in Forbes, Fortune, M, GQ, WSJ, and even People. He had money, didn't flaunt it, didn't hide it, and was comfortable with it and hers. He might also have been trying to calm me down, she thought.

Out of the blue, "Your husband was an international banker."

"Yes."

"And a spy."

"What?" So much for calming me down.

He looked straight at her and gave nothing away. "Does it bother you to talk about him?"

"No, but...."

He cut her off. "That's why I never asked you out before."

She realized she should acknowledge the fact that Geoff knew. "Because he was a spy?"

"No. I don't do widows for at least a year."

"DO widows?" What in hell was he doing?

"They're too busy comparing and I don't want any sob stories."

"You must burden easily also."

He smiled and nodded his approval. He signed, "Good job," and said aloud, "I don't need the hassle."

"Well pardon me all to Hell. And what about the last six months?"

"Because he was a spy. And I definitely don't want to talk shop with you."

"You think that's why I came to your office this afternoon?"

"I don't think anything," he paused for effect. "Yet."

"He wasn't as suspicious as you are."

"See what I mean?"

"Did you know him?" She too was a different person and Geoff knew Phil was overhearing this conversation via another microphone.

"Met him." He turned on her. "Look, lady, what do you want from me?"

Carrie straightened instinctively and he saw it for what it was. He knew she couldn't retaliate and jeopardize her position so put his finger to his mouth. He also saw Phil in the doorway signaling him. Geoff signed for Carrie to talk to herself and pointed to the hidden microphones. "Excuse me," he said. "I left my cigarettes in the other room." She knew it was an excuse, and maybe a ruse, because she had never seen him smoke. He'd only asked in the restaurant, he hadn't actually lit up.

"God," she sighed. "What now?...I can't do this." Now she had her own mission. "Do I play the coquette or the desperate widow?...No. He wants no part of that...the coquette maybe. But I'm not the type and his nibs knows it...Dammitt!!...Hell with it. I can't take much more of Himself."

She heard a thump and ran out of the room to a loud, "Fuck!" and watched the glass of her pocket door to the music room fall to pieces on the floor. She walked over seemingly unaffected by the outburst and examined her multi-thousand-dollar door on the floor in multi-thousand pieces. "So much for emotion."

"Mommy?" Molly came out of the morning room, also quite calm.

"Oh, shit," Geoff mumbled as he turned to her. He got down on one knee to face her. "Everything's fine, Molly." Carrie watched him change as he talked to Molly. She wouldn't intervene unless it became necessary. So far he was gentle, almost fatherly.

"Not quite everything, sir," Molly commented looking down at the glass.

Geoff smiled. "Absolutely correct. I apologize for interrupting your playing. I was listening so intently that I forgot the door was there."

Molly cocked her head knowingly and smiled at his ruse. "You can lie to me anytime."

Geoff and Phil laughed.

Carrie played along and got a pained expression on her face putting her fists at the side of her head. "And you ended on a subdominant seventh."

"Isn't that horrible?" Molly said taking her mother's cue. "Like waiting for the other shoe to drop, Mom says."

Geoff chuckled at the analogy. "Your mom ought to know." Molly looked at Carrie and Trevor saw the nearly imperceptible nod Carrie gave her daughter. Molly smiled, excused herself and left them. "God, what a doll!" Geoff was amazed at her control. He stood and looked at Carrie. "Send me the bill."

She was taken aback by his abrupt tone. "What happened?"

"I can't stay for dinner."

She didn't recall asking him but wouldn't give it away. "I'm sorry. Some other time, maybe." She realized it was just an evasion because they couldn't be heard out there. At least she didn't think so.

"Carol," Phil asked, "may I use your phone to call my wife?"

"Of course."

Trevor added, "Tell her we won't be late, Phil." He explained to Carrie that Phil's wife, Donna, designed clothes for teenagers in that in-between stage and was having a show that night. "If she gives you shit, tell her we have another model for her." Phil chuckled and picked up the hall phone. He and Geoff were covering for each other since neither knew how far this thing would go and how much Trevor would tell Carol Courtney. They would evaluate all that later.

In the car Geoff asked him, "Did you hear us?"

"As you wanted."

"Give me your appraisal."

"Not what I expected. She puts on a good show."

"Which one?"

"The library."

Trevor frowned. "I know that, Phil. With or without me there?" He studied his friend. "And why are you hedging?"

"I'll answer the second part later. The scene without you there, I think, was a crock." It was his turn to glare at Geoff. "And you know that."

"What about the profile?"

"She's not the type to brood. That infidelity bullshit is just that."

"Disappointed?" Trevor teased. Savage was so straight.

"Not really." He turned to him again. "And I don't know why. I'll tell you something else." Trevor waited. "She wouldn't have put up with your shit if she didn't absolutely need you. Personally I think she thinks you suck."

"That's why you like her." Trevor said through a laugh. "But he's a top shrink."

"Then she's changed."

"But you don't think so."

"No." Geoff nodded. He agreed. "I'll tell you something else, Geoffrey." Geoff turned to him. "Having seen all the pictures in the house of the children and none in either of her offices, she suspects someone, maybe you, at that school of being involved in this. She wants no pictures of her children anywhere outside her house."

"Kidnap protection," Geoff knew.

"Yup. At least make it difficult for them."

"Yup," Geoff agreed. And regardless of her religious beliefs, Geoff knew that Carrie would not commit suicide and leave those two precious kids with her loss or the disgrace.

"What about our latest incident? What are you going to do?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh, Geoffrey."

Geoff lapsed into silence. It was starting, he knew. What he didn't know was, why now? He was out of the loop, but heard things and couldn't think of any major global or political crisis that would escalate Diamond's plans. And was it because Diamond wanted him back in STONE or because Carrie was a threat? She was always a potential threat. Had it become immediate? Maybe it's both. Of course it's both. Why hadn't Diamond put other people on her?

" _Maybe he has and they failed,"_ Ffoeg thought.

" _Failed? How? How could that many trained STONE agents fail with one defenseless mother?"_

" _You're assuming she's defenseless."_

" _In the real world, definitely not,"_ Geoff said. _"In mine, a resounding, yes."_ Capable she _was, ruthless she wasn't. I'm ruthless. I'm capable. But am I capable of being ruthless with her?_

" _No,"_ _Ffoeg answered for him._

" _Why not?"_

" _Because of who she is."_

" _And because of those goddamn precious kids!"_ He felt a rare constriction in his throat as he thought about those two adorable children. _"They will NOT be orphans!"_ he vowed.

And Geoff Trevor rarely, if ever, broke a vow.

Chapter Five

The purpose of an injury

Is to vex and trouble me.

Johnson

Carrie played shortstop for her faculty softball team. Fortunately for her, it was an active position. In the eighth inning another ball was hit hard to short and Carrie charged it. She turned her head appearing to be gun shy and was hit in the right temple. She picked up the ball, pegged it to first getting the runner out and then fell to the ground. Her team ran to her as the umpire called time. Her coach removed her new sweatband from around her head and checked the site of impact. There was a definite redness where the ball had hit her and a lump beginning to form. Carrie was dizzy but did not lose consciousness. She insisted she was all right but the coach took her out of the game. He wanted to take her to the hospital but she refused. That she didn't want. "Besides, I have to see how it turns out. I have a vested interest in this after all." Frank, her date and physiology professor at the University, took her home after the game and told her to take the next day off. He couldn't understand her not wanting to sleep in her own bed and insisting on staying in the music room. "Joseph or Mary can stay with me and shake me every couple of hours if you're worried."

"I'll stay."

"No, Frank." He knew she meant it and left an hour later when he was satisfied Joseph or his wife would watch Carrie.

Carrie's first class wasn't until 11:00 the next day. Thursday was light that year. She went to see Collier at nine that morning and satisfied with the meeting, went to school.

The Commons was a snack bar in the Union Building where students and teachers gathered for between-class meals and meetings. Carrie knew that Geoff rarely ate in the crowded area, so confined herself to places that were frequently inhabited by faculty and students. She didn't want to see him. At noon, she was sitting at a table with other faculty members from the English department, Phyllis Webster, and Jack English, no less, her softball coach. Geoff "passed through" the lounge area and on seeing them approached the table. Carrie stood to leave and Geoff stopped her. "Please, Carol, don't leave on my account." He sat with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"I was just going to get another cup of coffee," she lied.

"I'll get it," Phyllis said taking Carrie's cup. "I was just going myself."

Carrie sat back down in her chair as Phyllis left the table. Geoff casually pointed at her head with his coffee cup. "Run into a gas grill?"

"A softball." She smiled politely.

"Helluva shortstop," Jack said.

"Since she's probably the only one who has to jump for a grounder, the short part fits." Geoff's voice was flat only to Carrie.

"So does the stop," she said with a slight laugh and gingerly touched her temple.

"Bad bounce?"

"Bad bounce," she confirmed.

"Take your eyes off the ball? Gun shy?"

"Gun shy is something she isn't." Jack turned to Carrie. "I still don't understand why you turned your head. You had it." He grinned, "Must have been your new sweatband."

Carrie shrugged, wishing he would stop trying to be so helpful. "I don't know either, Jack. The sound of those metal bats makes you think the ball is hit harder than it is." She looked at Trevor hoping to change the subject. "Is it?"

"Actually," he started, "the velocity is greater and with less shock absorption, the momentum is reversed." He just made that up and didn't know why.

"What'd he just say?" Jack wanted to know.

"Duck," Carrie answered and they laughed. "Let's face it," she continued, "I'm twenty years over my prime agility." She felt his stare and knew she was overdoing it.

"Bullshit, Carrie," Jack said and she winced. "Sorry." Phyllis returned with the coffee and sat down appraising Geoff who smiled politely. Jack, oblivious, continued, "Geoff here's a pretty good judge of physical prime. What do you say, Geoff?"

"Frank's the specialist." Geoff did not like this kind of discussion.

"My subjects are generally dead and/or piecemeal. Hopefully both." Geoff liked that one. Frank was all right.

"Oh God, Frank!" Carrie exclaimed closing her eyes and laughing more to relieve her own tension. Other faculty members joined the group and the small talk continued. Although Geoff was bored with it, he was good at it.

"Carrie?" Frank's tone was low and concerned. Carrie was resting her head in her hands taking short quick breaths. Geoff quickly shifted his eyes to them as the others went on with their conversations.

Carrie smiled at Frank. "I'm okay."

"Tired?"

"A little."

"Goddammit, why didn't you stay home?" She didn't answer nor did she look at Geoff because she knew he was watching and listening out of the corners of his eye and ear. She gave her vertigo a few seconds to adjust then excused herself to catch up on some paper grading. A few minutes later, Geoff went across the hall to wait by the door of the ladies' room where he saw Carrie enter.

When she came out, she was startled. "Voyeurism wasn't listed among your attributes."

"Ball hit you, right?" Why didn't she just admit it?

"For some reason, you seem set on not believing me." She walked down the hall, weaving slightly. He followed and took her arm for support.

"You can't get drunk, so the next best thing is head injury. Are you going to stop playing macho mama and sit down before you fall on your ass?"

"Your concern is touching."

"You misjudge me."

Ffoeg intervened, _"She was the one who told you about it, asshole. Be patient. Don't lose perspective."_ Geoff sat Carrie in a nearby chair and lowered her head between her knees. He felt the back of her head and confirmed his theory.

"What are you doing?" she said snapping her head erect and getting dizzy in the process.

"Your glassy eyes and particular dizziness result more from a knock on the occipital lobe rather than the temporal lobe. You could have a concussion."

"You're a Ph.D. not an M.D."

And probably fulloshit, he told himself, but continued his bluff. "Shall I call out your boyfriend to verify it?"

"Leave Frank out of this." She got up to leave.

"Does he know about your little manhunt after your husband died?" God, he hated that one.

Carrie stopped dead and lowered her head. "You bastard." It was nearly inaudible.

He took her by the arms. "Listen, lady. A friend of mine..."

"I didn't think you had any," she said softly with her head still down.

"Very few. And the ones I have, I value. He was put in the hospital yesterday..." She lifted her head more slowly this time to look at him. He softened his tone. "And I don't believe you suddenly became gun shy. That new sweatband was covering an old injury."

"Phill?" she asked, confirming nothing.

"Henri."

"I'm sorry. How is he? What happened?"

"He'll be out in a couple of days. Mead and Metford beat the shit out of him just as they did you. Right?"

"Why are you so damned important to Collier?"

"The sonovabitch is crazy. I'm going to see him and probably take the assignment."

"Don't." She said it quickly and took his arm. "It'll never end, Geoff."

"We're not playing with two-bit blackmailers, Carol. And as I said, I have a friend in the hospital."

"And I'll wager he wouldn't want you to do it."

"Doesn't matter."

"Debt for debt, hunh, Moses?"

"That's it." At least in his world.

"Oh grow up, Trevor." She raised her voice catching the attention of students passing them in the hall. They glared at each other until Geoff took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Want me to drive you home?"

"No thanks. I have a Lit class at one."

"Goddamn stubborn Irishman."

She gave him a faint smile. "Yeah." He watched her walk down the hall and wondered.

" _Okay, Ffoeg, what's wrong with me? Why do I give a fuck what happens to her?"_

" _Because you, as does she, know that not only will these attacks increase in frequency and intensity, but will soon reach the children."_

" _Oh God, Ffoeg." He sank to the chair. "Nothing, but nothing, can happen to those kids or she'll give up. And frankly, if anything happened to them, so would I."_

" _Cut it out, Trevor."_

" _No. I'm getting tired of this shit. I really am."_

" _I guess I am too, then."_

Carrie went to the hospital to visit Henri while Geoff went to visit Diamond, who operated STONE out of the stately old house in Gramercy Park. His office resembled a Renaissance parlor with expensive antique furniture, period paintings and knick-knacks that were more than they appeared, throughout the room, all of which were known to Geoff. Diamond himself was a distinguished looking man in his late fifties with an abundance of snow white hair, smooth face, and pale blue eyes. He was Geoff's height and kept his weight just under two hundred pounds.

Geoff walked into the room followed closely by two overstuffed Sumo-wrestling looking types with guns at his back. "Call off Cheech and Chong or you won't have any bed partners tonight." His tone was flat, as usual with Diamond. Diamond was neither startled nor surprised at seeing Geoff. He'd had him monitored from the moment he stepped onto the property. The man waved the bodyguards out of the room and sat back in his antique velvet chair resting his elbows on the arms and supporting his chin on his forefingers in a musing gesture. "Back off, Diamond."

"Diamond is it?"

"These are STONE's tactics."

"Do I detect a note of romantic involvement? You know how you get...."

"Shove the shit. He's a friend of mine, as you well know."

"Is she?"

Geoff backed off. "Who?" He sat in the chair and casually crossed his legs resting his ankle on his knee.

Diamond sat up in his chair and leaned on the desk. "Now you shove the shit, Bloodstone. We know she warned you. Expected it."

"Courtney?" He chuckled at the ludicrous idea. "You blew it bastard. She never said a word."

Diamond continued as if he hadn't heard Geoff. "We never really expected her to cooperate."

"Then why involve her? She a naïve, stubborn woman content with students and music."

"And softball."

Geoff laughed. "If you're going to tell me you put in a designated hitter and counted on Courtney's being gun shy, I'll attend your next resurrection."

"And you're either a fool or a liar. And I know you're no fool. Whether she got you here voluntarily is irrelevant. You're here."

"Is she working for STONE?" Take a shot.

Diamond laughed his hearty phony guffaw, which Geoff despised. "You don't work for us anymore." He stopped his laughed as suddenly as he had begun it. "And our personnel is no longer any concern of yours. We just thought you might empathize with Mrs. Courtney's plight...losing a loved one under fire and..."

"Leave it," Geoff ordered. "I have a vested interest in that restaurant and you're causing me to lose money." He deliberately ignored the issue with Carrie. "What do you want?"

Diamond sat back in his chair. "This discussion is academic. We don't need you. False alarm. You're excused." Geoff rose from the chair. He hadn't expected that but did not convey his confusion. He just shrugged. "But it's good to know you're still willing to work." Geoff turned to leave and Diamond waited until he reached the door. "Bloodstone." Geoff turned. "Don't underestimate her." He sat back in his chair satisfied with the meeting.

When Geoff reached for the door, he took something from under his arm and tossed it into Diamond's lap. "Now push the button," he said as he walked out closing the door. Diamond held a homing device for a customized Lugar pistol hidden on a pivot in the ceiling. If he pressed one of the decorative studs in his chair, the gun fired killing the bearer of the homing device.

Geoff drove to Central Park and walked and jogged intermittently. There was a soft late spring rain and he liked running in that kind of weather. Not too crowded and good thinking weather. He talked to Ffoeg. _"You've been had, Geoff," his alter ego began._

" _I know. But by whom?"_

" _Surely by Diamond. Your retribution syndrome was played upon."_

" _Excuse your goddamn preposition. Why didn't he send me after Rhinehart?"_

" _Maybe it wasn't his intention from the start. Maybe Rhinehart's already been caught. But remember, he wants you back and won't give up."_

" _Neither will I. Think she's working for him?"_

" _I'd keep it open."_

" _I'll obviously keep it open. I asked you what you think."_

" _You tell me."_

" _She was a pawn."_

" _A rather powerful one. You're not going after Rhinehart are you?"_

" _Good point. But she despises everything he represents, Diamond that is."_

" _So do you, Geoff."_

" _I despise HIM," he corrected his conscience._

" _And you worked for him. And still might."_

" _Not of my own volition and it wouldn't be hers either."_

" _So she screws you with a conscience rather than without one. You're still screwed."_

Trevor pursed his lips. "True. But to what end?"

" _In the back end if you don't cover it."_

" _Samo samo. I hate this shit."_
Chapter Six

Friendships are fragile things, and require

As much care in handling as any other

Fragile and precious thing.

Bourne

Henri was released from the hospital just as Mead and Metford were admitted. They happened into serious and separate accidents within hours of each other. Metford not without the benefit of a good roll in the hay first. On leaving Geoff's house, she happened to interrupt a would-be prowler on Geoff's property despite his two Great Dane guard dogs. Her right arm was out of commission for a few weeks and the seventh and eighth ribs were broken.

Mead was mugged two hours later on the streets of New York - Central Park. That was nothing unusual for Central Park. The unusual circumstance was that his injuries were identical to Metford's. That was for Henri. Each also had two golf ball size lumps on their heads, one on the right temporal lobe and one on the occipital lobe. That was for Carol Courtney whether she appreciated it or not. She was used to get at Trevor and he didn't like it. He didn't care whether Diamond knew it at this point. The man knew Geoff had realized what Mead and Metford had done to Carrie. He was surprised at the ease with which he performed these retributions. He had lost nothing of his agility, his acute senses, or the knot in his stomach. He was grateful for the knot. He never did a job without it. It was his connection to reality. His fulcrum for the Real and the Absurd. He felt if he lost it, he would fall into the Absurd. This wasn't a guilt or conscious-rendering thing, as he had little of either. Lost those a long time ago. He considered his knot a self-preserving factor. Without it, he might get too careless and he didn't want to die just yet. He liked his hedonistic existence and had a few scores to settle first.

Geoff Trevor didn't have any of the quirks of a great many assassins such as love affairs with priceless statues, art objects, and particularly, precious stones. He did collect coins but did not have the fever. If he could not afford a particular coin in the earlier years or couldn't find it, as was the case in the later years, he did without it and acquired it at some future date. In this way, he practiced his own style of self-control. Another way he practiced self-control was smoking. He could quit anytime he wanted and often did. When he felt he was getting hooked, he would quit again. It sounded like a typical smoker, but Geoff wasn't typical of anything. And he really wasn't a smoker. He didn't like it. He had only learned as a part of tradecraft.

His numismatic interest gave him a common ground with young Steve Courtney. The Courtneys had a sizeable and valuable collection and when his father had died, Steve inherited the care and preservation of the coins. He watched the Gray Sheet, read the journals, and kept abreast of the market. It helped tremendously after his father had died and he grew to love it.

Geoff and Carrie's relationship was friendly but distant. They traveled in different circles and hardly saw each other socially. They ate together at school on occasion, sometimes went out to lunch, but never dated. They trusted each other as far as it went. They bantered philosophies and social amenities. On music they didn't agree. On books, half the time. On children, totally. Wars was an easy and common topic. They both agreed wars were stupid, as did most everyone else, so it was a safe topic. They just sometimes disagreed on the cause of some wars while agreeing most were economically based. "But not Ireland and Israel," Carrie said.

"Ireland's plain stupid."

Carrie didn't like that, of course. "What's wrong with a united Ireland?"

He smiled. "Oh gettin' your wee Irish up am I?" He imitated a brogue very well if she did say so herself. "And there's religion present in both."

"Go listen to Bach." But Carrie did agree that the means by which the IRA was trying to unite Ireland defeated its purpose.

Of course their views on sex were diametrically opposed. "You're a satyric, sybaritic, son-of-a-seacook."

"Seacook?" His lips quirked on one side, an endearing expression considering, every once in a while, a dimple would sneak up on that side. Any man worth his salt, of course, called it a depression.

"Preserving the alliteration." She feigned a snobbish air and added, "Whereas I am a warm, sentient human being."

"I prefer soft, supple and sensuous, " he smiled, "for the sake of alliteration that is." This type of platonic relationship went on for a year. Respect grew along with a guarded friendship. They were compatible and Geoff didn't like it because he liked it too much.

"How about taking me out and getting me drunk?" Carrie asked as she stuck her head around his office door.

He looked up at her and had to smile. She seemed to be all right, but hardly one who was ready for a binge. "I limit my American Express to $1800 a month." He chuckled at her frown. "Not buying that one?" She shook her head. That blazer he was wearing was at least that. "True. It's a form of self-control. But in your case I have none." She snorted a very uncharacteristic and unladylike noise as he grabbed his self-control off the back of his chair. He burst out laughing and led her out of the office without any questions. They went out that night alone for the first time since they had been to Henri's.

Henri had fully recovered and was very attentive to their needs and desires. They danced, ate, talked, danced, and drank in Geoff's private dining room. Carrie was unaffected by the ten Bailey's she'd had to drink. "Chocolate milk," Geoff scoffed. "Drink some real stuff." She didn't like beer, which Geoff attributed to her snobbishness.

"Then how do you account for my dislike of wine?"

"Ignorance." They both knew better than that.

She was following his lead on the dance floor with her usual grace. "You're actually a wonderful dancer, Geoff. I didn't think you wasted time on such frivolities."

"Only with classy broads." She snickered and shook her head. Then she remembered why she was here and became a bit saddened. Geoff sensed it immediately even though she started to hum along with the overhead music. He decided it was time to tease her. "Better stick to dancing."

"What do you mean? I have perfect pitch."

"So do I and yours is limited to the baseball field." She jerked her head to look at him and he frowned.

Shit, he thought, but said, "Sorry. Just teasing. Jesus, you are touchy tonight. Tell me what happened."

"I called it off with Frank." The Physiology Professor she had been seeing off and on for a year.

"You mean you dumped him."

"That's rather harsh."

He shrugged. "I like him." She was his concern, not Frank. "You upset?"

"I was going to sooner or later."

"Then why the binge?"

"You owe me."

"How do you figure?"

"It was because of you that I finally...dumped him, as you so kindly put it."

"Let's sit down."

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Neither do I, but since I brought it up..." He walked her back to their table and seated her. Not an unsteady bone in her body. He was sure she had drunk all that she had been served. He took the seat across from her and waited it out. He knew she would talk about it and he could be as objective as anyone. This was, however, their first personal discussion and he was slightly apprehensive.

"I just feel sorry for him," she finally said. "I hurt him."

"Did you love him?" He was sure she didn't, but had never asked. Frank was safe, in Geoff's opinion.

"You know I didn't."

"But you're drinking because you feel sorry for _him_." A statement with a touch of sarcasm. She nodded. "Christ, Carrie, and you wonder why I don't get involved."

"You're missing a great deal, Geoff."

"Apparently not, if this is any indication. He think we were shacking up?"

"Honestly, your language." She took a sip of her twelfth Bailey's. "I will not abide by jealousy and lack of trust and yes he did," she rattled off in one breath.

"He's not alone, Carrie. You must realize that."

"Don't I know that!" She rolled those expressive eyes with the comment and he had to chuckle.

"You really getting shit about us?"

"Aren't you?"

"I don't put up with it."

"How do you handle it?"

"As you call it, one of my bone chilling stares."

"Look at these eyes, Geoff." She widened them for effect, making her look even more innocent. "Whose bones am I going to chill?"

He choked on his drink. "I'm not touching that one."

"That's a first." They exchanged smiles. "The others really don't concern me. I was seeing Frank. I told him the truth and he didn't believe me! A grown man for God's sake!" She was incredulous. "We have the hottest romance on campus. Did you know that?" She reviewed what she had just said and added, "You and I, not Frank and I."

"Damn, and I never got kissed."

"And I never felt a thing. And from a stud like you. Boggles the mind."

He snickered."I'm sorry it's affecting you."

She brushed it off. "I've handled worse."

He didn't even want to begin to explore that one. "I've never had a platonic relationship with a woman before - strictly speaking."

"We're good for one thing, right?"

He knew she didn't believe that and grinned. "Some are gooder than others."

"Chauvinist." And she knew better than that.

"Good for the image."

She burst out laughing. "The sad thing is that's probably true."

"Not even in most cases."

"What's your type?" He smiled remembering some theories on that subject. Carrie read his grin and returned the smile. "Honestly."

"Physical type?"

"All encompassing."

"Good brain, good sense of humor, good legs, and yes, a good lay." She frowned. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"

"Is it true?"

"A little simplistic, but essentially true."

"At least it's fourth."

He grinned. "Depends on my mood at the time."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"I've already told you that you'd be good in..."

"Never mind. Just good hard sex, hunh?"

"While I agree that women are better lovers than men, don't you dare tell me that you've never wanted 'just good hard sex'. I won't believe it." He sang a line from Survivor, "'Don't deny that part of you that's been dying for it too.'"

"I don't. At my age? I'd be a fool to deny it. I'm in my prime. I know that."

And at that moment, Geoff had a twinge he had never felt with Carrie. Time to lighten it. "Unlike softball."

She giggled pushing the twinge completely out of reach. "Unlike softball." She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "But God, the repercussions."

"And I couldn't handle the repercussions of an involved relationship."

"Why not?"

"You said it yourself. I'm a 'sybaritic son of a seacook'."

"Okay, I'm sorry." He waved it off. "Heard anything from your friend and mine?"

He shook his head. "You?"

"No." She paused. "Why'd you quit?"

"Because it's stupid."

"Then why..."

"Because I was stupid."

"And your IQ is one point higher than mine." He laughed but was surprised when she touched his arm with such gentleness. "Was is that bad, Geoff?"

He quickly and instinctively withdrew literally and emotionally. "Leave it alone, Carrie." She wasn't talking about the Agency. The look in her eyes, however, softened him a bit. "The loss itself wasn't as bad as the fallout." He nodded in deference to her. "The repercussions."

But the pain in his eyes that she was sure he didn't even realize he had, made her regret her invasion. "I will open my mouth."

"Drink up."

She sat back in her chair and smiled. "No more alcohol for me."

"You're not even close. And Christ, you're breaking me."

"I'm rich remember."

He barked a laugh at that uncharacteristic remark. Maybe she was getting a little high. "I owed you."

"Bull feces." He smiled at her euphemism. "It was my not-so-subtle attempt at a come on." He knew she didn't mean that either. "My treat."

"I _am_ chauvinistic enough not to allow that."

"Bullshit." He choked on his drink and laughed so hard that Henri peeked around the door to check on them. Geoff couldn't catch his breath until Carrie reached across the table for his arm with a sudden idea. "Hey, let's send the bill to Frank."

"Hope for you yet. Speaking of which..." She knew what he meant. It was a standard barb between them. Carrie never sent Geoff the bill for her glass door and would never accept payment.

Geoff didn't see Carrie for sometime after that except to pass her on campus or see her at lunch in a group. He was friendly enough but that night was too close for him. His personal life, personal feelings were his own business. He would not be vulnerable. More importantly, he wouldn't risk another's life. This entire relationship was strange to him and he was going to stay on top of it. Carrie may have thought the incident with Diamond was over, but Geoff knew from experience that it wasn't. His knot.

Carrie obviously sensed his frost but went along with him. After a month, because he considered her a friend, he felt he owed her an explanation for his behavior.

"What behavior?" she asked in mock innocence. "I assumed you just 'dumped' me - as a friend that is."

"Stop it, Carrie."

"I'm sorry, Geoff. It only hurt a little, but it did hurt. Apparently I value friendship a little more than you do."

"If you did, I wouldn't be here knocking on your double doors."

"At least you haven't broken them."

"Yet." He followed her into the family room and accepted a drink. He noticed her baseball attire of navy shorts and matching shirt with navy and white tube socks and no shoes. "Game tonight, I assume." She nodded and handed him his drink. She took the couch and sat legs akimbo. He still liked her legs. "No shoes?"

_She wears cleats, dumbass_ , his alter ego pointed out, but Carrie just said, "Not on the furniture."

"Right." There was an uncomfortable silence. He was on the defensive and didn't like it. She knew she was in control and sincerely wanted to help him. "Carrie..."

"Geoff..." She smiled. "I'm sorry, you go," she said of their sudden urge to speak together.

"All right." He sat back in the chair, the opposite of what you would expect someone with a mission to do. He crossed his legs in his usual figure four and began. "I made a mistake once," he said. "Got too close to someone. But you know that and you know what happened."

"And you have to cloister yourself because of it?"

He held up his hand to stop her. "I did that long before, Carrie. Sorry to burst your romantic bubble, but I'm not some poor sonovabitch pining the death of a loved one any more than you are. Nina was used as leverage against me. Something, someone I valued put me in a situation and forced me into an action I wouldn't have otherwise taken. And she paid the ultimate price. In my line of work, as you well know, I couldn't have that. I had to be free to act objectively and not go against my principles." He smiled tight-lipped. "I do have some."

"That couldn't have been all."

"Of course not. I suffered her loss much in the same way you did Steve's. Christ, I screwed anything with an X chromosome." And some dubious ones, he didn't add. She winced and he ignored it. "But, Carrie, I have always been forced to isolate myself. Not have another hold over me like that again."

"Why now? You're out aren't you?"

"And how long do you expect that to last?"

"It's lasted nearly three years."

"Carrie, please. It's my way. I cannot and will not be dependent on anyone - especially the reverse."

"I'm not dependent on you."

"I know that. You're an independent little cuss. I admire you and genuinely like you, Carrie."

"Then what in hell are you trying to say?"

"I just don't want us to get too close. Personal feelings, personal memories, and above all, shared memories have a way of binding people. I can't have that." More importantly, he thought, _you_ can't have that. At least not with me.

"Then we shan't." She was angry. "But neither am I good at one-dimensional relationships. I like people. I enjoy getting involved with people - and I don't necessarily mean romantically. Unlike you, I have a lot of opposite sex friends and acquaintances."

"So do I, but I go to bed with them." Of course that wasn't even remotely true.

"Is that what it takes to be a friend of yours?" He didn't bother to answer that. She raised her hands in defense. "Okay, okay. This may sound like basket weaving 101, but I have one life and I'm going to live it the way I want." Lucky you, he thought, but said nothing. "We'll have our shallow one-to-one and you can go to hell."

He actually thought that amusing and smiled. "Always be the dumper instead of the dumpee."

"It's your choice, bub."

He never had a chance to make it. They heard the blood-curdling scream, albeit controlled, before she ran into the room. "Mommy! Mommy!" Geoff and Carrie ran for the door and headlong into Molly. "The grill's on fire!"

They ran out to the patio and saw Steve and Joseph at the grill trying to put out the fire. Joseph was telling Steve to get away from the grill as he himself went around to the back to close the lid over the five-foot flames. A flame caught Steve's shirt and Geoff had picked him up, ripped off his shirt, and jumped into the pool before Carrie could reach him. She ran to the pool as Geoff was walking Steve up the steps out of the water. "He's all right."

"Did you get burned," Carrie asked her son.

"No, Mom. Really, I'm fine. No big deal."

Geoff left them and went to the grill where Joseph had smothered the fire and had things well under control. "I'm sorry, Miss Carrie. It just..."

"It's all right, Joseph. Steve's fine and the fire's out. When do we eat?"

"How's half an hour then?"

"That will be fine." She turned to Steve and Geoff. "Let's get you two into some dry clothes."

"Oh, Mr. Trevor," Steve said eagerly. "Stay for dinner and we can play some ball."

"No duck?" Geoff asked Carrie, not sure how to answer her son's invitation.

"Hamburgers." She smiled politely. "You're welcome to stay."

She was a little shaky he thought, but fine. He'd stay for a bit. "Good." They walked towards the house. "We peasants like good raw meat."

"Don't fish."

"For what?"

"Compliments."

"Surely you jest, lady."

"Whoever said you didn't have class?"

"Common knowledge."

"Maybe among the commoners. You may be missing a lot of things, but class ain't one of them."

"Takes one to know one?"

"Something like that."

"Snob."

"About some things, yes."

Carrie took Geoff to the fourth floor storage room and opened a cedar closet full of her husband's clothes. "Can't pitch anything. You're about the same size. Take your pick. I'll be downstairs."

Geoff and Steve huddled in a corner on the deck off the library discussing coins until dinner. After dinner, they tossed around a baseball and Steve reluctantly let Molly join while Carrie went for the surprise. She generally fixed a surprise dessert for every Wednesday cookout for the children, presumably to make up for her absence the rest of the night at her own ballgame. Steve and Molly rarely went to the games because Carrie sometimes didn't get home until after ten o'clock. It was a school night and she had rules. She took the surprise to the table on the loggia. "Chocolate mousse! All right, Mom!" Steve exclaimed and waited to be served one of the six chocolate dessert shells filled with the creamy delight. During dessert Carrie was cordial but reticent. Geoff assumed it was because of their earlier discussion. He was feeling a bit strange himself and didn't know why. Carrie finally excused herself from the table and went into the house. As Geoff watched her, a bit concerned, he was distracted by a tug on his sleeve. "I think it's the outfit," Steve explained. "It's one of the things Mom gave Dad on their last anniversary."

"Shit." He quickly apologized and started to leave.

"Don't tell her I told you, please."

Geoff patted Steve's head. "Not a word."

Steve looked at his sister. "Or you either," he commanded.

Geoff found Carrie in the wine cellar going through the racks. She turned away as she heard him coming down the stairs, realizing he was making the noise for her benefit. He could have sneaked up and been in her pocket before she would have realized it. And that was on a bad day. She quickly wiped away the tears before he reached her. "What's a dummy like you trying to do in a wine cellar?"

"I may not like it, but I know it." She handed him a bottle of Bonne Mares '61. "How's that?"

He was studying her face more than the bottle, which he realized was why she gave him such a bottle. "A bit overstated for hamburgers, don't you think? But I'd say you know it." He set the bottle on a shelf and ran his hands up and down the outside of her upper arms. "Go ahead, Carrie."

"Pardon me?"

"Stop it." He thought she was shying away from him because of her will to stay independent. He admired her strength but knew she couldn't maintain the hard crust. Not the type.

"What about your Monroe Doctrine?" Her eyes were full and as she looked up at him, his form had become distorted. He could have been anyone. Even Steve.

"It's _my_ doctrine." He looked down at the clothes he was wearing and added, "And my fault. I can be an insensitive bastard sometimes."

"No. Really?" He quirked his lip at her sarcasm. She referred to their early talk more to avoid what she knew and, to some extent, wanted. "Geoff?" Before she could let him hold her, she had to know. "Did you kill him?"

"Oh Jesus." That surprised him and he let her see it. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. Strangely, it also hurt him and he let her see that too. "How could you think that? How could I befriend you and, more importantly, your kids if I had killed their father?" He winced as if in pain, which indeed he was. His head suddenly exploded and he could see nothing. "Jesus!" He spun away from her to hide the visible effects of his pain. He didn't want her to see them for many reasons. Neither did he want her to see the tiny pill he was sliding into his mouth.

"Maybe out of guilt."

He spun back around. "I don't have that remember?"

"Maybe not for me, but you would for my kids," she said softly but assuredly. She would not be intimidated and he knew it. He left her and walked around one row of bottles to rub his temples. Carrie turned to leave, tears streaming down her face. Could he have really killed Steve? At one time, she thought so. At others not. She had begun to believe that he barely knew Steve and then he would make some crack Steve had made, like the perfect pitch, or look at one of the children a certain way and she would change her mind. At times she thought she saw guilt on his face, at others, confusion. Now that he refused to answer her, she couldn't think anything but that he had killed her husband. Whether it was cold-blooded, accidental, or supervised, she could never forgive him.

"No."

She stopped and turned slowly. He was right behind her, almost touching her. When she looked up at him with her face sluiced with tears she didn't bother to conceal, he winced as if in pain himself. "No, what?" she had to ask.

"I didn't kill Steve by accident or design. Nothing." She started to withdraw and shrivel up into herself. He misinterpreted. "Do you believe me?" At that moment she needed to be held and he knew it. He just wasn't sure how to do it when she was backing off. She started to whimper and he put her head on his chest than put his arms around her and rocked her gently. She put her arms around him and cried.

Finally, "Oh God, Geoff, I still miss him."

"I know, baby. I know." He did know. His voice was tight and choked. Also compassionate. She rarely heard it sound that way and looked up at him and misinterpreted the look of sympathy or even empathy. She also saw that he was embarrassed. Her tears were as infectious as her laugh.

"Well, faith and begorrah, the man has lachrymal ducts."

She had a better brogue was all he could think at the moment. "You ever tell anyone and I'll kick your little ass back to Dublin." He brushed an errant hair from her eyes. "Did I ever tell you that you look like her?" Reinforce it.

"You'd be lying if you had."

"I know. I was just wondering if I ever told you in a heat of passion or something."

She chuckled and picked up a more appropriate bottle of wine and slapped it in his hand. "No, you never did." She felt better and relieved that this man had not killed her husband. And she believed him. She would continue to search for the answer but would leave Geoff out of it.

They were close friends after that. Geoff was already very fond of Molly and Steve so Carrie was an easy step, just a different one. He enjoyed the friendship but maintained a nagging awareness that he was going to pay for it. He just hoped that Carrie wouldn't have to pay. He went off on solitude binges and Carrie let him go.

Chapter Seven

Don't get mad,

get even.

Joseph P. Kennedy

When a year later, Geoff received an invitation from Collier to an unimportant social event and found that Carrie had received the same one, he avoided her again, going back into his safe retreat of privacy. No leverages. For her sake more than his. She accepted it and understood. Neither went to the affair. Diamond again, Trevor thought.

Of course the separation didn't last long. Geoff became involved with the kids' activities and reacted like a proud father to each of their accomplishments. He went to Molly's gymnastics meets and Steve's track, swim, tennis, and soccer events as well as helped with schoolwork.

Carrie was on the phone in her office. "She goes second session? Bar sets when?...Twelve o'clock...Great...Thanks, Dave." Carrie almost slammed the phone to the receiver. "Dammit!"

"How about goddammit?" Geoff was at the door.

"Okay, goddammit."

"Uh oh, I was going to walk you to lunch."

"Lunch?"

"The curriculum meeting?" Carrie let her head fall to her desk. Geoff sat on the desktop and mussed her hair. "Wanna skip it?"

Carrie looked up at him and saw the hopeful grin and chuckled. "Wouldn't have to ask you twice would I?" She rose from her chair.

"You know how I hate these shit chats."

"And they always end up that way don't they?" Her bottom lip started to quiver.

"This is serious." He took her hand. "What can I do?"

Carrie shook her head. She was angry with herself. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering or her eyes from tearing. She shook her head again, frustrated. "I'm sorry, PMSing." And she missed her husband, he knew. At least the companionship.

Trevor smiled and put his arms around her."Bad timing, hunh. Steve's match and Molly's meet this weekend."

She smiled and shook her head, still amazed that he kept track of all that. "Bar sets at twelve on Saturday."

"Oh."

She separated from him and hit the desk. "And I'm tired of it. I can't..." she started crying. "I can't..."

Geoff hugged her again and rocked her gently. "You can't do it all, honey." She needed to let it out. He kissed the top of her head and almost sang. There was a rhythm and calming Carrie couldn't explain. Whatever it was, she was grateful. She looked up at him. "Molly's right. She said you have this soothing effect. Makes you want to fall asleep."

"From Molly I appreciate it. From you..." He let it hang.

Carrie laughed and took his face in her hands. "Geoff Trevor, you're wonderful." She kissed him. A friendly platonic kiss on the lips. He returned it, but carefully.

They heard a knock on the door jamb and turned to see a new female colleague. They both recognized the look on her face. "Hi, Gayle," Geoff said pleasantly, keeping his arm around Carrie's shoulder.

"Hello, Geoff." She looked to Carrie. "Carrie."

"Hi, Gayle." Carrie wanted to get out of it and let Geoff handle it, but it was her office. That's right, it was. "What can I do for you," she asked politely.

"I was looking for Geoff and Jack English said he saw him come in here."

"He was right," Geoff said. "What's up?"

"I don't mean to intrude."

She was uneasy and Geoff appreciated it. He was cordial when he asked, "You need me?"

"I was just going to ask..." She was not only uncomfortable but a little miffed. Miffed won. "What time are you picking me up?" Carrie smiled to herself at the woman's tone.

"Not sure." He looked at Carrie. "What time is Steve's match over?"

"Uh, I don't know. If he wins..."

"Which he will."

"Most likely. So the second match will begin at four."

"Molly's meet?" he asked.

"Probably end at four. Awards at four-thirty. Why?"

"I'll go to Steve's match. We'll wait for you to show up for the second and..."

"Geoff, that isn't..."

"How's seven-thirty?" he asked his prospective date.

Gayle was a bit taken aback. What's this guy's story? He's making dates with two women in front of each other. And guess who's second? She'd heard about him, his honesty and no nonsense. But this? She'd also heard that he and Carrie had a 'close' or 'special' relationship. People called it all sorts of things. Friendly, platonic, one-sided, unrequited (on either part depending on the source) and fraternal. She wondered what had just happened. Carrie had been crying and Gayle somewhat regretted her earlier remark. "Gayle?" Geoff's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Call me." She left.

"Well," Geoff sighed. "You and the kids want to have dinner at my place?"

"Call her." He shook his head in response. Carrie shook hers in wonder. "Poor dumb bitch doesn't know what she's missing."

He gaped then burst out laughing. "Neither do you." She just smiled. "Cut the shit." They both laughed. The 'dumb bitch' went next door and dialed the telephone.

Geoff had a habit of walking in unannounced. This was one of the times he was glad he had. "What did he say?" Molly asked her brother as they rounded the house toward the loggia where Geoff was just ready to appear. Judging the tone in Molly's voice, he decided to eavesdrop. And he did it without compunction.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Stevie," She touched his shoulder and he winced. "You've been hurt. Let me call Mom."

"No!" He stopped and turned to face his sister. "You keep your damn mouth shut." Molly started to tear. "Ah, Molly, don't cry." He wasn't any better with tears than Trevor was.

"You've been hurt."

"It's okay. I promise you, it's okay."

"It was about Daddy, wasn't it?"

"Isn't it always?"

Molly plopped down on the step up to the porch. "I had a fight, too."

"You did?" Steve sat beside her. "With who? "Whom," he corrected himself. Geoff smiled but stayed behind the curtained door.

"Who do you think?"

"Philip's sister." Molly nodded. "But you didn't hit her."

"How do you know? I may just duck faster." Just like her mother, Geoff thought.

Steve laughed and put his arm around his sister. Trevor had heard enough and made his presence known by opening the French door. "Hi, kids." They turned and greeted him, all acting as if nothing had happened.

Two weeks later, Geoff was over at the Courtney estate cooking Saturday breakfast while Carrie was braiding Molly's hair for a meet that day. Steve brought in the paper. "Hot damn!"

"Steve," Carrie's voice was both curious and admonishing.

"Sorry. Hey, Mol, guess who's up for a zillion counts of fraud, tax evasion, and grand larceny?"

"Steve," Carrie said, "that seems rather inappropriate affect."

He dismissed his attitude. "Right, Mom," and went back to his sister. "Guess."

"Wiggins?" Molly asked with a smile and her brother nodded. "All right! I think I'm gonna win today."

"Molly and Steve, what is going on?"

Steve handed Molly the paper and told his mother, "You can read it and weep, Mom, but we sure won't."

Carrie started to read over Molly's shoulder and Geoff stepped up behind her. "I read that," he said casually. "You know him?"

"Yes." Carrie didn't like the family either and her tone revealed it.

"Ooo, sorry." He slithered back over to the pancakes.

"And I'm surprised at you two," Carrie told her children. "You know what Philip and Amanda are going to experience because of this."

"Turn about's fair play," from Steve.

"Good enough for 'em," from Molly.

"I don't want you two taking part in any of it."

"Who? Us?" Steve smiled. "We won't have to."

"I mean it, kids."

"What are you going to do, Mom? Call Mrs. Wiggins and offer your condolences? Give her advice on how to handle her newly departed _friends_?"

"Maybe in a few days." Carrie turned to the sound of the ladle hitting the stove. "Geoff?"

"I'm sorry, what?" He pretended not to have heard. Carrie knew better.

"Need any help?" She conceded for now.

"No thanks." He held up his hands. "Gooey."

"Mom," Molly asked, "how could you? She scratched you off her list."

"So what would that make me?"

"Even," from both her children.

"I don't strive for even, I strive for better."

"Christ," was from Geoff, but none of them heard it.

"I'll worry about better once I'm even," Steve said and Geoff held a melancholy chuckle.

"You always were better, honey."  
"Yeah? Why didn't I feel like it until now?"

Carrie didn't want to get into a long discussion and could see Steve didn't either. She smiled. "Actually, I feel a little better too." They gave each other the high five. "But we'll talk about this later." Steve smiled and nodded.

"Pancakes are ready," Geoff announced. "Here, Molly, get your carbs." He put the plate in front of her and went back for the others, smiling to himself. It would be a good day. The kids were happy and all was well with the world.

Carrie had her suspicions about the incident but said nothing. It wouldn't have done any good. She had the chance to confirm them three months later. She was teaching a class at the Milan Gymnasium when Molly arrived. Carrie often allowed her to work out there or just watch. Today she had to blow off steam. She said very little to her mother, just changed, stretched, and went to the tumble strip to tumble into the pit. She wasn't too angry or Carrie wouldn't have let her tumble. She did her basic tumbling passes up to the double back. "Molly," Carrie called, "nothing difficult for now,."

"Difficult?" a well-toned team member asked. "What am I doing?"

"A full," Carrie answered. "Remember, layout first, candle, then twist."

Geoff entered to run the indoor track and Carrie called him over. "Yes, boss," he said running in place.

"Could you keep an eye on Molly?"

His playfulness left his face immediately. "Sure. What's wrong?"

"She's just upset and I don't want her taking unnecessary chances." She quickly turned away and Geoff saw it. He took her hand. "Geoff, please."

"Come 'ere." He took her out of view, but still kept an eye on Molly.

"Geoff," she protested.

"Let me see it instead of her."

Carrie broke down and he held her. He didn't ask and she knew he wouldn't. But he would listen. "I got a call from school. It's Veteran's Day next month and the children were asked whose father was a vet and if they had earned any medals."

"And Molly couldn't say Steve was Delta Force," he was sure.

"She didn't even get the chance. Some little smart ass said, 'Molly's father got the Order of Lenin.'"

"You're shittin' me." She shook her head. "Jesus Christ. Did Molly know what it was?"

"She knew who Lenin was and it doesn't take a KGB agent to figure out the rest."

"Where was the goddamn teacher through all this? Reading a bible?"

Carrie stifled a laugh and continued."She told Mercedes to stop, but it was too late. When they got back from recess, there was a picture on her desk. All soldiers dressed in American uniforms, each carrying a flag. Only one was carrying the Hammer and Sickle."

"Goddammit." He held her. "I'm sorry, honey."

"It just rips me apart every time I see them hurt. I'm sorry, Geoff."

"It's okay. It takes parents a little longer to bounce back."

She tested that bit of wisdom. "I think you're right."

"Mercedes? As in Benz? Are they German? Did her father get the Iron Cross?"

Carrie chuckled. "As in Watterson. She was conceived in a Mercedes."

"Jesus." He rolled his eyes, but he'd gotten what he wanted.

Carrie stepped back and looked up at him. "You're a good friend, Geoff Trevor."

Uncomfortable moment. "I think you're right." He trotted over to Molly. "Hi, snookums, what are you up to?"

"Double fulls."

"Don't do anything too tough. You'll embarrass your mom's girls."

"That's just too bad." She posed, ready to run.

"Oooops." Geoff took her hand and she looked up at him with her head cocked. "I'm going with you."

"You're what?"

"You heard me. Let's go."

They ran and just before they went into the foam pit, Geoff let go. He did a front tuck and over rotated landing on his head in the foam.

"Jesus," Carrie said through a gasp and yelled, "Geoff!" She ran to the pit and when she got there, Molly was throwing cubes of foam behind her as she waded to Geoff. She had only jumped, not wanting to take any chances with the two of them going at the same time. Carrie jumped in beside Geoff and found him feet in the air struggling to right himself. "Don't move," she ordered.

"I want to get off my head," came the muffled response.

"Are you all right?"

"Just upside down."

"Damn you, Trevor." She smacked his feet. "Stay that way." She looked at her daughter. "And you take five."

"I'm sorry, Mom." She was contrite.

Carrie patted her head. "It's all right, honey. I know you...." She fell on her face with an "Oooff."

Geoff had tripped her and was still holding her feet. "Sorry," he said, "can't see where I'm going down here." Molly laughed and Geoff popped up out of the foam and turned his attentions to her. He picked her up and held her over his head. She stood on his shoulders and did a back tuck off him. "I quit," he said and fell back into the pit. Carrie went to her team.

"Is he all right?" one girl asked.

"He's fine," Carrie answered.

"Hope he didn't break anything important," another said.

"You'd never know," said one who knew of Trevor's hands-off policy with students.

"Girls," Carrie said, "can we get back to work?"

"He's crazy about your daughter, Coach." Carrie looked over and saw Geoff with one arm over Molly's shoulder and the other hand massaging his neck. She smiled, promising herself she'd do something about it later. He deserved it.

Roger Watterson, Geoff knew, was a flagrant philanderer. Everyone knew that. What everyone didn't know was that the man operated a bordello - albeit, upscale. He personally 'interviewed' each employee. Somehow, the raid on his establishment was caught by a camera crew. It had only taken three nights of sitting outside to catch Watterson himself entering the building. Trevor made a call, and as they say, the rest is eleven o'clock history.

The Courtney children missed the eleven o'clock news, but Carrie didn't. She told Molly and Steve the next morning at breakfast. "Hmm," Molly mused, "we must have a guardian angel.."

Yes, Carrie thought. And his name is.....

"Geoff Trevor." It was almost a yell.

"Ma'am." He snapped to attention.

Carrie walked into his classroom but hadn't seen the student huddled in a corner going over a test paper. "I'm sorry," she apologized and smiled. "Hello, Wayne."

"Professor Courtney," he nodded. "Would you like me to leave?"

"We'll leave," Geoff said through a chuckle. "Finish your test."

"You trust me?" Whether he was surprised, he acted it.

"Of course." Geoff acted it. Once outside, "Great, he's so overcome he'll probably flunk 'cause he won't cheat." Carrie snickered. "What's up?" He knew what was coming so put on his ingenuous face.

"How can I yell at you? You look so innocent."

"We both know better than that."

Carrie smiled, sighed, resigned and shook her head. She thought of her children, of Molly's tears that day. Of Trevor going into the pit with her. Hurting his neck. "How's your neck?"

"Could you rub it right there?" he teased pointing to the muscled cord at the back of his head.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Rub my neck, I thought."

"Sit down." He sat in the student desk just near the door where he could see his student. Carrie straddled the top and began an easy massage.

"Oh God," he moaned with pleasure.

"How'd you do it?"

"I think you said, 'over rotated' and landed on my head."

"You won't tell me."

"I just did. Ten minutes, Wayne," he called into the room.

He flinched and winced. "You did get hurt. Why did you lie to me?"

"I always lie to you." She chuckled. "Little higher." She did as instructed and he moaned again. "God, you're wonderful." He suddenly grabbed the back of his head with an, "Ah."

"Apparently not so wonderful." She heard the small snicker. "Geoff?"

"Shit," he said through gritted teeth.

"Hold still. I'll rub your head." He didn't even hear her. He was trying to concentrate on relaxation techniques he had learned. "Geoff?" Nothing. She took her hands away. "What can I do?"

"Keep it up." She resumed the head massage as he reached in his pocket for a pill. He held it in his hands, perhaps judging the severity of the pain. He chuckled. "Replay our last few sentences and listen to them out of context."

"How's your head?" She faced him and saw the residual pain in his eyes. "It still hurts doesn't it?"

"It'll be okay. Thanks. You give new meaning to the phrase, 'gives good head.'" She smacked the side of his head. "Ow!"

"Stop it. That won't work." She knew he was trying to distract her from her train of thought. "What triggered this one?" He shrugged. "Something I said or did."

It bothered her and she couldn't hide it, not from him. Geoff heard it and turned to her. He lifted her chin and looked into those eyes he loved. "Nothing you said or did." That was true. He had said it.

And Carrie didn't miss it. "Then it's because of me or us, Geoff. You don't have to run over me twice."

He held her face in his hands then kissed her forehead. "No," he repeated. He stood. "I have to get back in there. Can't have him acing it."

"All right." She got down from the desk and looked up at him. "I'll see you later."

He waited until she rounded the corner to pop his pill. He took a couple of cautious deep breaths and went back to Wayne Redman.

Chapter Eight

Rape!

No one was ever sure what prompted Carrie's husband to be cleared of treason. Most likely it was a combination of events. Carrie started it, they all knew.

Trevor almost didn't recognize her as he entered the bar for an after-work drink. Regardless of his time spent at the university, he still had a financial concern to maintain and he had to put in many more hours than just his class schedule. But Trevor never minded work. He thrived on being busy. He worked hard and he played hard. He hadn't made any plans for tonight because he didn't know when he'd be available. But that didn't stop him from keeping the possibility open.

The legs were the first clue since that was the general direction of his eyes. But even they weren't quite right. He nonetheless started for her until he saw the cigarette. He turned on his heels and sat at a table at a right angle from hers. He now looked her over thinking of a potentially good evening. As he started to her table to solve his mystery, he saw a familiar face come from the men's room and head in the direction of her table. Again he turned on his heels and went to a booth hidden from their view. Geoff recognized the man as CIA _and_ STONE. So it was Carrie. The long brown hair, slightly tinted glasses, the scotch, and of course the cigarette had made him question. The woman also appeared taller and at least twenty pounds heavier. But he'd been trained in the art of deception as well as the next agent. What in hell is she doing? The two had a short conversation and the man left. Geoff waited until he felt it was safe before he went to her table. Carrie reached for another cigarette hoping to continue the charade as Geoff sat opposite her. "Another lesson from a good teacher?" he asked as he moved his hand across the electric eye in his lighter to create the flame. She dropped the cigarette in the ashtray and took off the glasses. No one else would have recognized her.

"He said a smoker could more easily fake being a nonsmoker than the reverse."

Geoff had to admit, "When you inhaled, I considered coming over for another purpose."

She smiled weakly. "So that's what it takes." She took a sip of her drink. It was an unconscious and nervous gesture. But this time she shivered when she tasted it. Geoff remarked that it wasn't her usual chocolate milk. "This was harder than smoking. I almost gagged every time I swallowed. How can you drink this stuff?"

"It's an acquired taste."

"What gave me away?"

He pointed to his own eyes. "Contacts?" She nodded. He reached out and fingered her long brown wig. "Good quality." A thought just occurred to him. "But wouldn't it be embarrassing..." he caught himself.

"In bed?"

"Sorry."

"Why?" He didn't know so shrugged. "It's all part of what you call tradecraft."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"I have a perfectly good excuse if they find out who I am. Maintaining social position and so on, so people won't think I'm doing now what I did after Steve died." She fidgeted with the napkin under her drink then raised her eyes without lifting her head to add, "And I'm not."

"None of my business." He looked away.

She touched his arm hoping this was over. "Do me a favor?"

He looked back and had to smile at the disguise. It was excellent. "What?"

"Take this damn scotch and get me a decent drink." Geoff took care of the drinks and sat quietly, not wanting to intrude but feeling he had to advise. This dummy is going to end up dead if she doesn't stop it. Finally he leaned across the table and touched her hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She smiled as if she had expected this. "Just being discreet."

"Why? Neither of you is married."

"His boss wouldn't appreciate our seeing each other." Geoff knew she meant Collier, but did she also mean Diamond? She was giving him a half-truth, a trick he knew well.

"How do you know his boss didn't send him?"

"I don't." She nodded in the direction of the door where the man had left. "But neither does he know who I am."

"Bullshit!" was punctuated with his hand on the table.

"Cheaper than my door," she cracked looking at his balled fist.

"Goddammit, Carrie, you have two children..."

"It's my business." She had to stop it and knew just how to do it. She placed her hand on top of his darker one in a gentle caress. "Please, Geoff. I know how you feel..."

He waved her off and nodded. "Cigarette?"

"Hate 'em. They'll kill you, you know." They both laughed at the irony.

A few months later, something caused Carrie to pull out of her social circles. "I need to spend more time with my children," was her excuse to her friends. Geoff had no clue but neither would he pry. He was sure it was related to the man in the bar. Carrie was a friend. If she wanted to tell him, fine. If not, fine. It seemed only a minor depression period and she was back to her vivacious self, but still not going out as much.

Halloween night. A night Trevor loved. He always stayed home and greeted the trick or treaters. He enjoyed watching the children come to the door and they enjoyed going to his house because they knew they would get a special treat. He was determined not to be distracted for the simple reason that he had stopped going when he was six. His mother saw to that. They always had something else to do that night. Now, twenty-some years later, he was getting that pleasure vicariously. The upcoming presidential election distracted him only slightly because his 'friend' and current VP was running. Geoff had contributed as much as was legally allowed and was hopeful.

Carrie had promised him that she would bring the kids over to his house. He greeted them as Mr. Spock (one of his idols) and although he knew what characters they were, Molly a leprechaun and Steve as Jason of Halloween fame with a hatchet that looked as if it were lodged in his skull, Geoff had told Carrie to tell them he didn't know and didn't expect them. He played it up, pretending not to know who they were but Steve knew better. Molly held out hope. He guessed the name of every kid in his area and played his part so well that even Steve thought the poor man would have a breakdown if he, Steve, gave away his true identity before Trevor was ready to accept it. "Okay, I give up," he finally said, placing the treats in their bags. Molly did it first by removing her mask and grinning like a five year old. "Molly?" he seemed genuinely surprised. "Wow! I didn't have a clue."

"You really didn't, did you?" Steve said from beneath his disguise. Realizing that, Steve took off his goalie mask.

Geoff had succeeded and Carrie owed him fifty bucks. He told her that with a look as she stepped into view. He held up his hand and looked at Steve. "I swear to God." Carrie's grin told him she knew how much weight that oath carried and Geoff almost lost it right there, spoiling the ruse and consequently losing the fifty bucks.

Geoff's house was their last stop since they'd had to drive. They all sat in front of the fireplace with mulled cider and caramel apples. Trevor let Molly and Steve answer his door to the few older latecomers although he occasionally brought up the rear to those he knew. "Uh..Geoff?" Steve called. Trevor appeared behind him to see three adults, a man and two women, in full costume. He introduced everyone to Phil and Donna Savage. Carrie understood why Donna designed clothes for the in-between stage of teen to adult. She, herself, wasn't much bigger than Carrie. And adorable, Carrie thought. The other woman, probably ten years Carrie's senior, was more likeable than gorgeous, but nonetheless above average. In her Vulcan science officer costume, Rebecca Wolfe, was obviously Geoff's date for the night. They were going to a costume fundraiser for _Future_. Carrie was doing the same with her own foundation and after a little talk of the election and polite amount of time, rose to leave. Geoff walked them to the door. When the kids ran ahead to see the dogs, Geoff held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Pay up."

Carrie took the fifty out of her pocket and slapped it in his hand. "If the kids hadn't been in the room, I'd have given it to you in front of your guests and said, "Thanks for last night.'"

He laughed. "Sore loser."

"You're good, Trevor."

"Steve had me a bit worried."

"You had him so convinced he thought you'd stroke out if he revealed himself."

Geoff laughed at the memory. "So don't tell him."

"Never. I want him to stay a kid as long as he can." They both feared Steve was growing up too fast. Not only because of his superior intellect, but his life experiences. "It's enough to jade Mother Theresa," Carrie had said.

"I think you're both winning."

Carrie smiled at that. He could be so damn thoughtful sometimes. But he spoke from experience, she was sure. "You too," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks. Good luck tonight. And Tuesday."

He returned the kiss. "You too. But I still say you should wear a pillow," he said as he patted her belly. She was a nun.

Carrie chuckled. "When you go with me as a Monsignor."

"In that case, you'd have to dress as a young boy."

"Geoff!" but she couldn't help but snicker.

"See you at school tomorrow?"

"No, it's a holyday. The kids are home." Geoff rolled his eyes. "Don't start."

Although he agreed the private Catholic school the kids attended was a good one, it was still religious. To the holydays they were excused, he had said, "Any excuse to cheat 'em out of the sciences." At hearing about this one, All Saints Day, Geoff bit his lip for effect and waved his fingers. Carrie smiled, waved, and left the porch. He watched them drive off his property and closed the door. If only he had known.

Trevor had just closed his eyes to go to sleep when the phone rang. It was a soft beep so as not to disturb anyone who might be with him, in this case Rebecca, but enough to notify a light sleeper like Trevor. "Yes?" he whispered into the phone and glanced at Rebecca who was still asleep.

"I'm sorry to be troublin' you at this hour, Mr. Trevor..."

The knot in his stomach pounded. "No problem, Mary. What's wrong?"

"Did Mrs. Courtney happen to mention to ya that she'd be out late?"

Shit. "No. What time did she tell you?"

"Midnight. And she hasn't called."

Fuck! It was two ayem. He knew immediately that something had happened. "Have you called anyone else?"

"No, sir. I didn't want to worry her family yet, them bein' gone an' all." Her parents were in Australia.

"I understand, Mary." Now he was torn. Should he go looking for Carrie or go over there to be with the kids? He chose the kids. "I'll be over in..." He glanced at Rebecca. "...in half an hour. Meanwhile, Mary, lock her up."

"Her, sir?"

"The house."

"Oh, sure and I will."

Geoff made his excuses, lies, to Rebecca and walked her to her car. He promised to make it up to her. At Carrie's house, Joseph answered the door. "Anything?"

"No, sir," the man answered and Geoff could see his worry.

Shit. Joseph's wife appeared with a tray of coffee and Geoff took a swig. "I'm gonna kill her when she gets back." His little aside did nothing to allay Mary's fears either. She knew better. Trevor had forwarded his calls to the Courtney estate and before he had his jacket off, the phone rang. "Yes?"

"Your girlfriend's at Doctors."

"Day late and a dollar short, pal."

He hung up to, "How the fuck..." Frustrate the bastard. He turned to Mary and saw that the sixty-year old Irish woman was watching him with controlled apprehension. Trevor gently put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to Doctors Hospital." Mary put her hand to her mouth. "Try not to worry." He looked between them. "Don't answer the phone, let the machine get it. Don't let anyone beyond those gates, and under no circumstances, leave those children." He realized that last order was an insult. "What I mean is...even if someone tells you he's my brother, don't buy it. I don't have a brother. Or a sister. If any of Carrie's family comes to take the kids, don't let them. They're not here. Even if you recognize them, call me first. Okay?" They both nodded. "Wait for me and call me on my portable phone if you need me."

"Aye," Joseph said and Geoff realized that all he had just said was superfluous. He pat Joseph on the shoulder. "Sorry. I'll call you later."

On the drive in, as Geoff glanced at his phone, he reflected on a conversation that he had had with Carrie. She saw his portable phone and started the questioning. She wanted one. He told her to buy stock in Motorola, AT&T, and Bell, that they would all start with what they called cell phones. His was called the 'brick' because of the resemblance, but he swore by it. He went with Carrie to buy one. He wished she had been close enough to hers to use it tonight.

Geoff had thought about his identity. He wanted to be Carrie's brother, John, but he knew he might get trapped in any number of ways. Being a doctor, someone might know John. Also, while Trevor had a good education on physiology, his medical knowledge wasn't as complete. He cursed himself for that because he would have been able to read her chart. He also cursed his best friend, a cardiovascular surgeon, for being out of the country. He'd recently thought of introducing Carrie and Stu but wanted to give it time, for both of them. He actually thought they would make a great couple. Carrie had two other brothers and Geoff thought about posing as one of them, but if Carrie were there for an extended stay, one or both might show up _. "What's wrong with your true identity?" Ffoeg asked him._

"What's that?"

He couldn't see her because she was in the ER and no one knew who she was. "She's about five feet tall and ninety-five pounds."

"What makes you think she's here?" A logical question from the admitting nurse.

"Someone called me. Carrie was dressed as a nun for a fund raiser at her Foundation."

"Can you give me her full name?"

He'd had it. "Not if I don't see her first to identify her."

"Are you a relative?"

"No." His STONE persona was taking over and he knew he'd better shed that or he'd get nowhere. "I'm a colleague. We teach at the same college." He took a breath. "Just tell me how she is." And let me see her for crissake.

"Just a moment please." She got up to leave then asked, "Your name please?"

What the fuck difference does it make? How's that going to affect Carrie? "Geoff Trevor," he said evenly. _Christ, I should have been a doctor. Thanks, Ffoeg. Asshole._

The nurse returned a moment later and said, "Would you come with me please, Mr. Trevor."

Trevor couldn't see the bed for all the people around it. A few heads turned and Geoff saw the emerald and diamond ring she wore. "Ah shit." His heart sank. He saw the questioning look from the chief physician. "Her ring," Geoff explained as he walked to the bed. "Her husband gave that to her on their fifth anniversary." He then saw her gold Rolex watch. It obviously wasn't robbery.

"She has a husband?" The doctor was maybe two years younger than Geoff.

"No. He died a few years ago." He moved closer and the doctor stepped aside. Geoff looked down at the unconscious petite lady and his heart broke. She looked so helpless. She also looked clean and almost untouched. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"I think so. We'll have to do more tests," the doctor answered. "Particularly for internal injuries. Before I go any further, would you please identify the lady." Geoff heard the unspoken, 'and your relationship to her,' but let it go. Still too much of a hardass he told himself.

"Her name's Carol Courtney. She's..."

"John Connor's sister?"

"Yes. You know John?"

"Very well. We did our residencies together." He mentally stuck out his hand. "Matt Kohler."

_Okay, Ffoeg, you're not an asshole._ Geoff nodded and gave his name. "John's in Belgium," he added.

"I know. ACS Conference." American College of Surgeons. He looked down at Carrie. "Jesus. Why?"

"Why what? What happened to her? Why is she unconscious?"

"She was physically attacked. We don't find any head injury. Apparently she was grabbed from behind. There's a slight abrasion under chin and her trachea was compressed, nearly crushed. We don't want it to close up so we've intubated her." Geoff nodded and looked at the tube. The entire apparatus nearly covered her small face. He gently brushed her hair from her forehead and felt his left fist clench into a ball. He held her hand as the doctor talked. "Do you know if she's allergic to anything?"

"Not that she's said. She gets sick on codeine, most of the opiates, and since she's so small, she usually takes pediatric doses of most anything."

"If you have any information, we'd like to have it."

"Such as?" Jesus, Trevor, he's just trying to help.

"Doctors, medical history, meds she's taking." Geoff nodded and told them what he knew. There was a momentary silence as he stroked Carrie's cheek. "She's been..."Kohler hesitated.

Trevor turned to look at the man, then said it for him. "Raped."

"How'd you know?" the nurse opposite Trevor asked.

Geoff looked at her. "She's wearing a shit-load worth of jewelry. It wasn't robbery." He also figured that with no visible signs of attack, it was a message to Carrie, but didn't mention that. "Anyone call the police?"

"Yes," Kohler answered. "And a rape counselor is on the way."

"Carrie won't talk to her."

"That's understandable, but..."

"She won't talk to her," he repeated evenly.

The nurse said, "She'll need to talk to someone."

"And she will. But she'll make that decision."

"Do you have any influence?" the doctor asked.

"Probably not in that case. How'd she get here?"

"A man who saw her on the side of the road called 911. An ambulance brought her in from there."

"Didn't the man come with her? Who was he?" Carrie didn't have a date, he remembered.

"We don't think he was the attacker. The EMTs said he was covered in gold body paint, a Phoenix. We didn't find any traces of the paint except where you'd expect when he checked her and held her."

"But you're suspicious." A statement.

A few were surprised and Kohler decided to be honest. "Yes. He wouldn't give his real name. Unless John Smith is his real name." Geoff looked confused. "What?"

"Anybody with any brains who was trying to hide something or didn't want to get involved wouldn't use a name so patently false. The first thing you'd do is ask for ID."

"Makes sense. So maybe it was his real name."

No. Another message. "What else?"

"She was clean."

"You mean no outward signs of attack?"

"No. I mean clean. She, somewhere between the attack and John Smith, had taken a shower or somehow cleaned herself up."

Or maybe John Smith did it. "Shit." He was angry, too angry. Carrie knew better, but... "Gets rid of the evidence," he said to explain his anger.

In Carrie's defense, the nurse said, "But it's understandable." Trevor just nodded. "And maybe she can identify..." She stopped when she saw his skeptical look.

"Maybe," Geoff conceded, but didn't believe it. This wasn't right. Goddammit!!!

"Is there anyone we should call?" Kohler asked. "Would she call anyone in particular?"

"She wouldn't want anyone involved. But she'd call John only if she were physically incapacitated. She might call her parents to take the kids, but they're in Australia."

"Doesn't she have other brothers and sisters?" Kohler thought he remembered that.

"Yes. Her sister lives in Salt Lake City. Her oldest brother, Rory, lives in Baltimore but is in Ireland right now. She has another brother, David, who's a lawyer here in New York, but he and his family are in London until Christmas."

"So her sister's the closest?"

"Actually no. She and her husband are celebrating their tenth anniversary in Greece." Actually they were trying to save a failing marriage, but Trevor knew that was no one's business. He looked back down at Carrie and sighed. "Her kids...Christ. They're home asleep."

"How old are they?" the nurse asked with a sympathetic tone.

"Steve's thirteen and Molly's eleven."

Kohler said, "I assume someone's with them?"

"Yes. A couple who's been with Carrie for years. And I should call them and let them know what's happened." He looked at the doctor. "What can I tell them?"

"That she's stable and we'll know more later." He looked at Carrie. "She looks strong and in good shape." He shrugged. "That's a plus."

"Great. That'll work," he said testily and walked to a wall phone. He picked it up then asked. "May I use this?'

"Of course."

Geoff dialed and the medical team concentrated on Carrie. "I'd like to kill the sonsabitches who did this," Kohler said as he flashed a penlight in her eyes.

"I think you'll have to stand in line," his nurse said.

"I'll let John get in the first kick."

"I didn't mean her brother." Kohler looked across at his nurse who nodded towards Trevor.

"Really?"

"In a New York minute." She mentally shook her head wondering why men were so unobservant. It was obvious to her how Trevor was taking all this. The man was pissed.

"Hmm. Can't blame him, though. Pricks."

"Pricks?" Geoff questioned.

"Jesus." The doctor startled at Trevor's near presence before he'd heard him.

"Sorry. Why do you say pricks?" Or even 'sonsabitches' as he'd heard before but wouldn't mention that.

"I don't know."

"Something told you. Think it over, doctor."

The physician did just that and Trevor saw the light bulb in his eyes. "The amount of semen for one. Even with the cleaning, there was too much for one person."

Kohler winced at his own clinical response and only belatedly noticed that Trevor hadn't even flinched. Geoff even added, "Maybe he did it more than once." That took more out of him than they would ever know.

"That's possible, I suppose."

"Go on."

"She seems to have fought to some extent." Trevor knew that. Carrie was very skilled at defense tactics and told them so. "Some of her wounds are defensive." Kohler shrugged. "Again it seems too much for just one person. We'll verify that with tissue matches, blood types, etcetera. Do you know her type?" Although he'd drawn a T&C, it wouldn't hurt to verify it.

"A positive. And if you need any for her, I'm O."

"Thank you, but hopefully that won't be necessary."

With Carrie still unconscious, there wasn't much for the rape counselor, Julie Murphy, to do except give orders for collecting forensic evidence. She did want to question Geoff but typically he had little to say. She knew who he was but had never met him. And while Geoff sat with Carrie, Ms. Murphy sat with the nurses whom she knew and gossiped. "What do you know about Mr. Gorgeous over there?" one asked.

"He's been out with a couple friends of mine," Julie answered. "Lotta fun and a helluva lay."

"I wouldn't throw him outta bed," the nurse confirmed.

"Second," said another.

"Seems like he knows her quite well." This was from Kohler's nurse.

"Lover?"

"Don't think so."

"Maybe a wannabe?"

"Could be. Right now he acts more like a brother. Said they teach at the same college."

The counselor nodded. Geoff had told her that. "But why is he sitting there at her bedside?"

"He says he'll leave when we move her up to ICU. Wants to be at her place when the kids get up."

"And it looks like he wants to be here when she does."

"Don't be so suspicious, Julie."

"It's my job to question. And he poses a few." She looked over at Trevor who seemed to be dozing. "You're right. He just intrigues me."

The doctor came back with reports of Carrie's medical history and said, "I just talked to her doctor and he'll be here in about an hour. Any change?"

"No," his nurse answered.

"Shit. What are you still doing here, Julie?"

"She's suspicious of Mr. Warmth over there."

"You don't think he had anything to do with it."

"Not really. Too easy to prove. Just tell me everything she says when she comes out of it."

A nurse offered, "He said that she won't talk to you."

"He told me that, too. But that's normal."

"And maybe he's here to see her wishes respected," Kohler said sympathizing with Trevor.

"We'll see."

Kohler walked over to Trevor and tapped him on the shoulder. Geoff appeared to startle and look around ending on Carrie. "Sorry to startle you, but we're getting ready to move her to ICU. Why don't you go get some rest."

"Apparently I just had it." He shook his head as if surprised that he could fall asleep under these conditions and circumstances. Kohler gave him a tired but sympathetic smile. Trevor needlessly looked at his watch. "The kids'll be up in an hour." He gave Carrie's hand a squeeze and stood. He took out his wallet and extracted a card. "Call me at either of these numbers." He scribbled Carrie's number on the back of the card. "I've forwarded my calls to her place."

Kohler stuck out his hand and Geoff accepted it. "We'll let you know. Take care of those kids."

"Absolutely." He nodded to the nurses and Julie Murphy. Be nice, he told himself. "Thank you. I know she's in good hands." I sound like a fucking insurance company.

Geoff sank to the couch after telling Mary and Joseph everything. "Why don't you get some rest yourself, Mr. Trevor."

Geoff ran his hand through his hair. "Thanks, Mary, but I'm all right. Need to make some calls."

He called his and Carrie's TAs telling them to take their classes until otherwise notified. He then called his office in the city to cancel three meetings but would do the conference call from Carrie's place. Trevor thought about how or what he'd tell the kids. He didn't have much time to think about it as Steve was up at seven. "Mom?" Geoff heard and went to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. "Geoff, what are you doing here?"

"Hi, son. Come on in the kitchen." Steve followed Trevor into the kitchen and saw Mary pouring his orange juice. "Morning, Mary."

"Good morning to ya, master Stephen."

He took the glass, thanked her, and asked, "Where's Mom?"

"Sit down, son," Geoff said gently.

"Oh God, what happened?" He suspended his motion as if he stayed standing the answer he dreaded wouldn't come.

"Carrie was attacked last night." Steve closed his eyes, waiting. "She's at Doctors Hospital and the doctors say she's stable. They've moved her to ICU and are taking good care of her." Christ is that lame. "Sit down, son, please."

Steve took a couple of deep breaths then asked, "Have you seen her?"

Trevor nodded. "I just left the hospital."

Steve finally sat with some resignation. "What did she say?"

Shit. "She was asleep." The hesitation was only fractional. "I didn't talk to her."

Steve looked directly at Geoff. "Asleep or unconscious?" Geoff sighed and Steve knew. "Please don't lie to me, Geoff."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Was she raped?"

Another slight hesitation."The doctor says yes."

"When can we see her?"

Geoff had thought about that. Was Steve old enough to make that decision for himself? He knew what he would do, but was it right for Steve? And was it right to pressure him? What would happen if Trevor talked him out of it and Carrie died? "If you want to go, I'll take you." Trevor wanted to give Steve some semblance of control over something that was clearly out of his control. "What do you think about Molly?" he asked. It made little difference because Geoff would most likely go with Molly's wishes. But Steve's input would be weighed. "She's like Mom. You couldn't keep her away."

Trevor nodded. "Okay. Do you want to tell her?"

"She'd only question you since you were there, but I'll stay if you don't mind."

"I'd welcome it. Please." He saw Mary nod her approval of his handling of the situation.

Molly came down half an hour later dressed in workouts. "Hi, Geoff, what are you doing here?"

God, he hated erasing that happy energetic expression from her sweet innocent face. Her brother got up as Molly greeted Mary. He took her hand. "Come here and sit down, Mol."

Geoff told the little eleven year-old girl everything he had told her brother. All she said was, "I'll go change and you can take us to the hospital if you don't mind."

"Of course I will." The kids left the kitchen to get dressed. Geoff let out his long-held breath with a, "Jesus Christ." He wanted to cry. Almost did. As it was, he couldn't swallow.

"Remarkable children, wouldn't ya say, sir?"

"A testament to their mother," he said hoarsely.

Carrie's doctor was there as was Matt Kohler. He stood back with Geoff as the kids went to their mother. "We've called in Neuro again to follow up on head injuries and GI to check for internal ones. So far everything is negative except for a possible spleen. They'll probably observe that for twenty-four hours and decide if surgical intervention is indicated."

"Why in hell is she still unconscious?"

"They're checking for everything; subdural hematoma, extradural hematoma, concussion, brain swelling..."

"Brain swelling? From trauma, you mean?"

"Most likely. We just don't want swelling from any cause."

"And since we don't know the cause..."

"We do to some extent. We can at least eliminate chemically induced trauma."

"So what?"

"I know, it's frustrating, but we have to eliminate. Right now we're treating the symptoms. The cause is basically irrelevant in this case."

Bullshit, Geoff almost said aloud. If the cause didn't exist, neither would the effect. "I understand your point, Dr. Kohler, but explain that to them."

They watched the kids talking to their mother and Kohler nodded. "It's Matt and I understand your point too." A nurse came in and drew Kohler aside. He nodded and went back to Geoff. "The cops want to talk to you," he told him.

"Fine."He gave Matt a pointed look. "But they're not upsetting those kids."

"We'll keep them out of here."

"Thank you." Geoff left the room. He knew the police were at least slightly suspicious of him. It was their nature as it was his. He didn't do much to change their opinions with his short uninformative one-liners. He stood. "Now if you'll excuse me, I want to get back in there. You have my number," and he left.
Chapter Nine

Alas! too soon to guileless youth

The world doth its dark code impart.

Bushby

At home he left the kids to their own ways of dealing with it. He was there but wouldn't hover. He had the cameras to do that. Steve went to the pool, Molly to the basement gym, and Geoff to take his conference call. As he talked, he watched the monitors he'd had Carrie install. He saw Molly doing her optional floor routine to the music of 'Top Gun' and went to the papers in front of him. After a few minutes and hearing the music repeat, he glanced up at the camera and saw Molly sitting on the side of the floor crying. "Shit," he voiced.

It must have been at the wrong time because one of the callers asked, "Are you not confident of this deal, Geoff?"

"That's not it," he said. "I just spilled my coffee all over my desk." But he knew that expletive would cost him. When he finished his call, he checked the cameras for Steve who had left the pool. He wasn't in his room or on the first or second floors. Geoff finally found him with Molly. They were in the game room in the basement that housed two pin ball machines, a pool table, an old-fashioned juke box and more sophisticated sound system, a 20 x 20 wood plank dance floor, a polished wood bar with four stools, and four card tables. Molly and Steve were at one of those tables playing two-handed bridge. Geoff would let them finish the hand then call them for lunch. Steve claimed (declared himself winner) and Molly said, "That's not fair."

"You're just a sore loser."

"I am not. You reneged."

"You can't renege on the last two cards."

"You can cheat on the last two cards," his sister protested. Geoff chuckled and thought about not interrupting them. Seeing him might slap them in the face with reality.

"I'm just quoting the rule book," Steve said.

"Well don't. You're not Mommy." He didn't have her photographic memory, she meant.

"Then let's go ask Geoff." No, don't ask Geoff, Trevor thought, still smiling.

"No. Admit it, you cheated."

"Okay, I cheated. I misplaced a club."

Trevor burst out laughing and stopped suddenly when he heard Molly ask a child's typical question. "Is Mommy going to die?"

"Why do you keep asking that?" He didn't want to talk about that right now.

"Because you haven't answered."

"I don't know the answer."

"What would happen to us?" Oh God, Geoff thought.

"I don't know that either. Probably live with Grandma and Grandpa in Newport."

"I don't want to live in Newport. I want to stay here and just visit them there."

"Molly, we may not have a choice."

"I'll run away."

"That wouldn't serve your purpose if you want to stay here." Jesus, the logic, Trevor shook his head unbelievingly.

"Mary and Joseph could stay here with us."

"Not legally. The judge wouldn't let them."

"Maybe Geoff could stay here then."

"He's not married and he wouldn't want us." Bull _shit_!!!

"Why not? He loves us. I know he does."

"So?"

"So?" she countered like the eleven year old she was.

"So you're not being realistic. Even if he did want us, the courts wouldn't let him have us."

"Why not?"

"We have too many relatives."

"What if they don't want us?" She had an awful thought. "The courts wouldn't separate us would they?" Her bottom lip started to quiver and Steve got up and went to stand by her. He put his arm around her shoulders. "I wouldn't let them. I'll take care of you."

"Will they let you do it legally?"

"I don't care," he said with determination. "Don't think like that."

"I'm scared, Stevie."

Steve didn't want to cry or let his sister see that he too was scared, so he drew her head against his chest. "I know," he said quietly. "But I'll take care of you, Molly. I promise. Besides, Mom will be okay. She has to be."

"Jesus Fucking Christ." Geoff couldn't breathe. He had to think about this before he called them to lunch. Should he talk to them? Tell them that even if he didn't take them, he'd never leave them? Could he make a promise like that? Legal had nothing to do with it. Their safety did. If he were anyway responsible for them, they'd always be in danger. He was never allowed to love anything or anyone for very long. If they went with relatives, they'd have a peaceful and relatively happy life. He's the one who would be crushed. He couldn't imagine not seeing them grow up. "Stop it, you stupid sonovabitch," he told himself. "You're not permitted thoughts like that. They'll be fine and you can watch them from afar. That's all you need. Your ego is going to get them killed. It may have already done that to their mother. Stay away from them. You're poison. Where the hell are you, Ffoeg?"

"You're doing fine without me. You know the rules. It's not that you want to see them grow up, it's that you want them to see you as they grow up."

"Is that so goddamn wrong?"

"For you it is."

"Then why am I so committed to them?"

"Because somewhere along the line you fucked up and you feel you owe them."

_"I_ do _owe them, goddammit. They're kids for crissake. They don't deserve this kind of shit."_

"Don't you think their mother has something to do with that?"

"Yes. But she's only doing it for them."

"And she too fucked up."

"But she can be excused. She doesn't know what she's up against."

"So there's no excuse for you then."

"Fuck you. The kids need me."

"Right now, yes. But what next?"

"I'll worry about next later."

"What happens when you think that way at bridge or chess?"

"I go down or lose, respectively. But this isn't a goddamn game."

"It's the biggest game of all."

Trevor sighed. Ffoeg was right, but "Fuck you," he said and left for the basement. He judged the moment, took a deep breath, and called from outside the room, "Anybody hungry?"

They spent the rest of the day at the hospital in and out of ICU. Geoff drew on his resources to keep up the spirits of the two scared but brave children. He decided to take them to a playground pizza place, especially when he saw that he was being followed. See how long he'll stay with us. Carrie was safe with a policeman outside her door. This too appeared to be police. Trevor had called Phil Savage, asked him to get what he could from the police and meet him later at Carrie's house after the kids were in bed.

Geoff sat and watched Steve play the arcade games and Molly run and flip around the equipment as best she could considering the limitations. They were quickly bored and distracted so Geoff took them home. His tag was still with him and he debated on whether to nail him. He decided against it with the kids in the car so just drove home, locked the gates, and set the alarm. Molly wouldn't be going to the gym tonight and wasn't very happy about it. "I have a meet this weekend."

"A compulsory meet which you'll win anyway." He wouldn't consider the possibility of her not competing. "You've known the Class I compulsories since you were seven."

"And I won't do much more than a run-through. The rest is getting my optional skills up."

"They are up, Molly. And you don't start optionals for another month."

"There's always room for improvement."

"And you're going to improve them tonight?"

"I'm going to try."

"Try it downstairs." She glared at him. "I'll even watch," he tempted.

She grinned. "Beam?"

Geoff smiled back. She knew he hated that damn thing. "Even beam."

"You must really not want me to go."

That worked. At least until Molly got angry with herself. "You're too hard on yourself."

"I'm a perfectionist who isn't perfect."

"No perfectionist thinks he's perfect."

She thought about that and smiled. "I guess that's true," she said as she jumped off the beam and sat down next to him. "You still didn't watch the whole thing."

"If you'd been concentrating, you wouldn't have known that."

"That sounds like something Mommy would say."

"Another perfectionist."

"You are too, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Is that why you never got married?"

"Haven't met the perfect girl kinda thing?" Molly nodded. "No, not really. I just don't think I'd make the perfect husband."

"Why not? And don't tell me because you're not perfect."

Geoff smiled. "I'm too set in my ways I guess." He remembered a similar conversation that took place many years ago. He hoped Molly wouldn't take it any further so decided to change the subject. "So are you set for your meet now?"

"Did it look like it to you?" she asked rather testily.

"You always look perfect to me."

She frowned at that. "But my life isn't."

"At times it is though, isn't it?"

"Not since Daddy died." She looked at him with those eyes darkened by sadness and Geoff felt his stomach turn upside down. "What did he do that made everybody hate us so much?"

Trevor was surprised at that and wasn't sure how to answer it. So obviously he avoided it with, "What do you mean?"

Molly knew an evasion when she heard it. "You won't answer me."

"It's not for me to answer. Even if I knew the answer," he emphasized.

"Who do I ask? Mommy?"

"Yes. But what makes you think people hate you?"

"All the things that have happened to us. And now this."

"That's quite a leap."

"No it's not and you know it." She was angry at his evasions.

He tried. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her eyes with his. "Sweetheart, a lot of people don't like the CIA and by extension, people who work for it. And no amount of proof will change their minds. You could..."

"Those are a lot of minds. They say Daddy was a traitor."

"That's bullshit," he blurted then apologized. He squeezed her shoulders. "' _They_ ' are talking" he started to say, 'out of their asses' but changed it to, "too much. Your mom wouldn't be associated with someone like that."

"What if she didn't know?"

"Even if that had been possible at the time, it wouldn't be now. She'd have found out, accepted it, and told you and Steve."

"But the CIA said it. Are you calling them liars?"

Shit. "Yes," he answered simply and waited for the obvious question.

"How do you know?"

"I trust your mom."

She cocked her head, just like her mom. "You don't sound like it."

Again, just like her mother. He removed his hands so his grip wouldn't betray his words. He was angry with Carrie, thinking that she may have brought this on herself, albeit innocently. He even managed a smile. "I do. I'm just a little angry right now."

"At Mommy?"

He couldn't deny it so didn't say it. "At the bastards who did this to her. And to you kids."

"You want to kill 'em?"

He winced at that coming from this precious innocent, but thought, 'Not only do I, I'm going to.' He said something totally different. "You shouldn't even be thinking things like that."

"Why not? They were."

"We don't know that. And even so, it doesn't make it right." He couldn't believe he just said that. To him it was a lie. It was right in his world.

"I don't care." She stood to leave and Geoff took her hands. She jerked away from him. "You're lying to me."

"When?"

"Can't deny it, can you?"

"All right, yes. I want to kill them." He hoped that would work. "But it still doesn't make it right."

She backed off from her anger, but only slightly. "Okay then, tell me about the CIA."

"What about it?" Mistake! Mistake!

"You work there."

"No I don't."

"Well, you did."

"And I can't talk about it. And neither should you."

"Even to you?"

"Especially to me."

"Because you won't answer?"

He nodded once. "Because I won't answer."

"You don't seem to like it." No answer. "Then why'd you work there?" Nothing. "Do you...?"

"Molly, stop it." Her jaw fell. She'd never heard him take that tone with her. For Geoff's part it was necessary. He wouldn't dare endanger this family anymore. And saying anything at all would do just that. He stood to end the conversation. "I have work to do," and walked towards the door.

"Geoff?"

With his back to her, she didn't see him wince at that sad little voice. But he had to do it. He turned with no plans to stay. "You should get ready for bed soon." He left the room.

"You fucking asshole," from Ffoeg. Geoff didn't interrupt what he knew was coming. The only thing he said when it was over was, "It has to be this way. It has to. And excuse my fucking preposition." He truly believed it was right for their sakes. "Damn you, Carrie." He hit the wall on the way up the stairs and bruised his knuckles. Ffoeg's only response was the previous epithet with, "good enough for you," added for the knuckles.

Geoff heard the piano from downstairs and felt a certain comfort. "See?" he told Ffoeg. "It's better this way."

"You never were one for denial, Geoff," his alter ego reminded him

"All right. Maybe it's not better, but it's safer." He sat at the kitchen table looking for something to cook. "You said so yourself."

" Right. But there's a time and place for crissake."

Rachmaninoff wasn't fairing too well, even the simplified version. Geoff finally left the kitchen with a sigh and a, "Shit," and went back downstairs to find a frustrated eleven year old repeating the same passage and getting it wrong every time. "C-sharp in the left hand," he said coming up behind her.

"I know it's a C-sharp." She banged the keys. "I can't reach it!"

"Yes you can. It's only an octave."

"I can't!" She banged the keys again.

"Then elide it."

"That's cheating."

"Not if you're incapable of doing it correctly."

Molly caught the entendre and turned to look up at him for the first time. "Until then?"

He sat on the bench beside her. "Keep trying 'til you get it right." He looked down at the keys and hit a few notes of no significance. Molly let him go sensing his embarrassment. "I swear to you, I'll never hurt you like that again," he finally said.

"You didn't mean to." When she put her little hand on his cheek, his heart clutched.

He shook his head to agree, took her hand in his, and added, "But that's no excuse."

"Good enough for me." She stretched her hand to hit the octave but still hit the keys in between the two C-sharp keys. "It's not supposed to happen that way!" Bang! "It's supposed to work!" she cried. Geoff put his arm around her and she burst out crying and clung to him. "I just want my mommy back!"

"I know, sweetheart." His own voice cracked. "And I'd give my left nu...lung to give her to you." He held and talked to her as she finally cried it all out. As Molly began to feel better, Trevor started feeling worse. Anger, worry, and particularly empathy for this poor child. He took a quick swipe at his eyes daring not to scare her with his own worry and pity. After Molly calmed, she looked at the keys. "Should I?"

He smiled. "Let's not push it."

Geoff saw Molly to bed then went to look for Steve. He found him doing homework in his room and sensed that the teen didn't want to be disturbed right then. He was concentrating and so far it was working. Trevor went downstairs and waited for Phil to arrive with the police reports. He read them, then threw them on the table between them. "These aren't worth shit."

"They're checking all knowns and you're topping the list."

"Of course. Why not? They have no one else." And not likely to get anyone else.

"Didn't you tell them where you were?"

"Yeah, but, hey, I'm a warm body. And I pissed 'em off."

"You?" Phil pretended shock. "Nah."

Trevor chuckled. "I want to know everyone she's met, talked to, or slept with since her husband died."

"Pretty long list." Trevor raised a brow at that. "I mean the first two, at least." Geoff nodded. "Think it's related to him?" Phil asked.

"Why overlook the obvious? But keep it quiet, okay, Phil?"

Savage knew that meant Collier. "Hell, he's been on my ass all day to shadow you."

"Why?"

"You expect him to get religion and tell me anything, let alone the truth? I don't work there anymore either, or have you forgotten I work for you in your damn coin shop?" They still called it a 'shop' because that was what it was in the beginning and Phil was there for most of it. He had started working for Trevor when the second store opened but was still with the Agency until only three years ago. Phil liked the coin business because it gave him and his wife time together traveling. "And the balls on that guy to ask me to spy on you."

"Typical." Very typical. It was Diamond's way of isolating Trevor and keeping him suspicious. "Then tell him everything he wants to know." He didn't know that that was a mistake. He just figured that Diamond would find out everything anyway, so why avoid it. Plus, he was probably behind it all anyway.

"But..."

"Do it, Phil." He wanted his friend protected as well.

"If you say so. Are you working on something?"

"No. And that's the truth. At least as far as I'm concerned."

Phil nodded accepting it. "I'll see what I can get." He stood to leave. "Give Carrie our best. Call you later."

Geoff stood and shook hands. "Thanks, Phil and apologize to Donna for me."

"No need. She loves you, Geoffrey." Donna Savage would be forever grateful to Geoff for getting Phil out of the Agency. Phil would too. He had said, "Do you know she switched perfume five years ago and I never knew."

"Helluva spy you were," Trevor had answered. "To what?"

"Halston." This time, like many others, there would be a special delivery of Halston to Donna Savage.

Geoff was working on papers when Steve came down for a snack. He looked in the refrigerator and found things he hadn't seen earlier. "Where'd these come from?" he said to no one in particular. He picked up something. "Looks like a salmon roll with cream cheese and capers."

"And a little red onion."

Steve turned to him. "You make all this?"

"Some of it. Water crackers to go with it in the pantry."

"Thanks." Steve set up his tray. "Wanna play chess? I can't sleep."

"Sure."

Half an hour into the game, Steve made a move and Geoff looked across the table. "No?"

"Don't think so," Geoff answered. "How far'd you go?"

"Six." That was six moves each.

"Can you do nine?" Geoff knew he could. He had.

"All right."

But it wasn't. Steve couldn't do it. "We don't have to finish," Geoff said gently.

"Yes we do. Yes _I_ do."

The poor kid was tight as a drum. "It's okay, Steve."

Steve knew what he meant. "No it isn't." And he was trying his damndest to avoid crying.

"Why not?"

"It's weak."

"Bullshit."

"That's what Mom says."

"Yeah, sure she does." Geoff teased but wouldn't push him.

Steve smiled weakly. "Have you ever cried, Geoff?"

"Hell yes." The sudden pain hit and Trevor winced.

"What's wrong?"

"Lousy headache." In fact, it was getting bad quickly. "Got any aspirin?"

Steve stood. "Be right back." When he left, Geoff took the little container that looked like a gray rock out of his pocket and popped one pill. This was a bad one. He was supposed to make a call, but decided against it. "Fuck it. Fuck him." He was angry that he was still tied to Diamond in that way, or anyway. Geoff rubbed his temples and tried to understand the visions in his head. Another man asking him the same question, "Have you ever cried, Geoff?" Stu? No, Stu knew the answer. Trevor shook his head trying to get a clearer picture but only saw Steve and lost it as the pain intensified. He saw himself crying as he sat holding someone's hand. Carrie? Is she going to die? God, no! He knew he was sensitive to a point, but not clairvoyant to any point.. So what was this? Whatever it was it hurt like it never had before and he didn't want Steve to see it. Geoff put himself into a trance, albeit with more difficulty than he usually had. His breathing became more and more shallow until he found himself on top of K-2 sitting in the snow and looking out over the world. He even saw a US flag left by previous climbers. That was the only sign of man's existence and strangely it kept Trevor grounded during this short trance. He didn't know whether it was the pill or the trance, but his pain receded quickly. He only had residual pain when he opened his eyes to the sound of footsteps. Geoff saw that Steve was hesitant to approach and wondered what expression he was wearing. "Thanks, son. Sorry to break up the game."

Steve walked over and gave Geoff a glass of water and bottle of aspirin. "No problem. As you know, I wasn't concentrating very well anyway." He sat next to Geoff on the couch.

"Who is?" He popped a couple of aspirin.

"Your concentration seems to increase proportionally with your amount of stress."

In typical modest fashion, "I think that's true of a lot of people. You've heard the phrase, 'You want something done, ask a busy person.'"

Steve nodded absentmindedly. He was already on his next thought which was, "How do I act?"

"What do you mean?" He knew but wanted Steve to talk. "Son?"

"The rape."

"You might start off by asking her." He thought about that. "Correction. Give her a big hug first, then ask her."

"She'll want me to touch her?"

"Not only want it, but need it." And so will you, he didn't say.

"Okay. What else?"

"I think your mom will take it from there. You've been honest enough with each other that if she doesn't want to talk about it, she'll tell you why and you'll accept it and the reason."

"Okay." He nodded again. "Why would someone do that?"

"That I can't explain. I don't understand a mind like that." Which wasn't quite true.

"I want to kill 'em."

"That I can understand."

"Then let's do it."

"Whoa! Wait a minute. What kind of movies are you kids watching lately?" And what the hell kind of influence have I been on these two kids?

"I'll help you," he said with a new purpose. "We can..."

"Steve, stop it." Steve's head shot up to Trevor's. "We'll do no such thing."

"Why not?"

"It's not for us to do."

"Then who? The police? You said yourself, they don't have shit."

"That was my frustration talking. As this is yours. It's the system we have, flawed as it is at times, but we have to abide by it or we'd have complete anarchy." He couldn't believe he was actually saying that, and worse, believing it. But he needed to redirect this bloodthirsty attitude they had. For their safety more than anything. He couldn't be a hypocrite and tell them it was wrong and he was such a saint. He was far from it.

"And if they don't solve it? A lot of crimes..."

"Not that many. You just hear about those."

"And what if this is one of those?"

It will be, he thought. "Why don't we wait for that."

"But if..."

Trevor held up his hand. "Let's leave that up to your mother too."

"You saw what she did with the Wiggins thing. Offering condolences," he spat.

"They'd already had their comeuppance." He smiled. "And how do you know your mom wasn't responsible for that?"

"You think?"

Trevor shrugged. "Never know."

"Cool."

Geoff mentally shook his head. Why did it take Carrie's revenge to boost her in her son's eyes? He decided to ask because it bothered him more than he thought it should. "Cool? That makes her cool now?"

"No. She is cool. But running from a fight certainly lessens it a bit."

"Because she doesn't respond the way you or maybe I would doesn't mean she's running. She may not have seen it as a fight to begin with. Or one not worth her time. Just like it takes more strength to cry than not to cry, it takes more strength to walk away from something that may prove to be counterproductive."

Steve was angry and for once Geoff didn't try to stop him. "Do you _know_ the last time I cried?"

"No." But that was a lie. Carrie had told him.

"When my father died."

"Why so long?"

"He cried, he died."

Geoff's mouth dropped. He hadn't expected that. "You know enough logic to know that the inverse is not always true."

"It is in this case."

"How do you know? Did you see or hear someone say, 'If you cry you die.'?"

"No," he answered defensively.

"Then prove to me A equals B and B equals A."

"He's dead."

"Try this on. What if he knew he was dying and knowing that he wouldn't see you grow up ripped him apart?" He saw that Steve was actually considering the hypothesis, albeit mathematically. But it was a start and Geoff didn't want to lose him now. But his head... He winced again. "Fucking headache," but ignored it as best he could. "Haven't you seen your mom cry? She's still here. Christ, you should have seen me half an hour ago. I'm still here and will be tomorrow."

Steve's eyes widened, but he was still suspicious. "Why were you crying?"

"I'll tell you if you show me your proof."

How important was that to Steve? Trevor didn't extend that to the next logical step of, How important was _he_ to Steve? He wouldn't think about that now. Steve was more important. "The last time I saw my dad, he was crying."

"Go on," he coaxed gently.

"Molly and I were going to our grandparents' house in Newport for the weekend."

"A planned weekend?"

He thought a minute. "No, not really. But Mom and Dad were always surprising each other with a weekend here or there."

Trevor nodded. "Okay, what was different?"

"When Dad gave us a hug, I saw tears in his eyes. He must have known because he said, 'I'm gonna miss you, pal.' I just didn't think it meant..."

Geoff touched his hand. "You had no reason to."

Steve withdrew his hand. "So I left. But I started thinking about it. I ran back into the house to tell him I'd bring him something and I heard him really crying this time. He was in here." Steve looked around the library and Geoff suddenly felt like an intruder. "I just stood outside the door. Afraid. I didn't know what to do." He choked back tears. "If I'd come in and made him stop, maybe we could have done something. Fight back." He let out a cry. "But I didn't because I was scared. I cried like a baby!" He was angry with himself.

"It wouldn't have made any difference, son."

"How do you know?"

"Maybe because your dad knew."

"Why didn't he tell me?" he screamed.

"I'm sure he didn't want you feeling what you _are_ feeling. Responsible."

"I was so mad at him. He scared me and I couldn't think straight. I might have been able to help him." He finally cried and Geoff put his arms around him.

"No you couldn't have, son. You were seven years old. It was out of his control. There wasn't a goddamn thing he, or especially you, could have done and he knew that."

"He could have tried."

"I'm sure he tried more than you'll ever know. He wasn't crying because he was afraid. At least not for himself." He swallowed hard. "He knew what you were going to face later."

"The traitor stuff?"

"Yes." And life without a father, he didn't say.

"I never believed it."

"Good."

"But I swore I'd never be scared like that again."

"But you are."

"Yes. And I can't be."

"Yes you can. You just learn to accept the fear and work with it."

"I'm trying, Geoff. I really am. I swore I'd take care of us."

God. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "You can certainly help, but that's too big a job for you. Especially alone." Jesus Christ, the poor kid. He sniffed, not caring if Steve saw it. Even hoped he would.

Steve looked up at Trevor and saw the tears. "Oh God, Geoff are you crying?"

"A little." He smiled. "Like half an hour ago with Molly. Kids laugh, I laugh. They cry, I cry." He shrugged. "I guess I'm reliving my childhood where I didn't get to do those things."

"Why not?" Trevor shrugged. "Oh, you were a special kid and had a special path to follow?"

"Something like that."

"Did you do it?"

"To an extent, I guess."

"Are you happy?"

Geoff smiled. "When I don't think about it."

Steve smiled. "Wanna finish our game?"

"Nah." He quickly corrected himself. "Unless you do."

"Nah," he mimicked. "I think we're both pretty beat." He stood. "Hopefully tomorrow will be better."

Geoff walked Steve to his room and said, "I'll just be down the hall if you need me."

"Thanks. Goodnight, Geoff."

"'Night, son." He watched Steve close his door then turned to go to Molly's room. He peeked in and saw that she was asleep. He glanced at her digital clock and saw that it was nearly one.

Trevor collected tapes and a recorder, secured the house, and told Mary and Joseph he would be back in a couple of hours. At the hospital, he asked the nurse to play the music, composers Carrie liked, and he would be back during the day. He stopped by his place, grabbed some clothes, saw to his two Great Danes, and was back at the Courtney estate slipping into bed by four. He obviously didn't sleep in the nude at the Courtney house, but sweats. Not fifteen minutes later he sensed a presence in the room and readied himself until he realized it was Molly.

"Geoff?" she whispered.

"Yes?" he whispered back.

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Sure." He lifted the covers and she jumped in beside him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." A minute later. "Geoff, what's a nulung?"

"How do you spell it?"

"I don't know. I looked in the dictionary last night but couldn't find it."

"Where'd you hear it?"

"From you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, downstairs. You said you'd give your left nulung to..."

Geoff burst out laughing for the first time in a long time. "It's an elision."

"You cheated?"

"No. I think your mom would say I finally got it right."

"Oh." She thought for a minute then Geoff saw the smile in the reflected light. "Oh!" and she giggled. "Geoff," she scolded.

Trevor chuckled. "Don't tell me that kept you up all night."

"Most of it. But I decided to go to sleep and wait to ask you in the morning. Only I couldn't get to sleep."

Geoff shot up. "Holy shit!"

Molly bolted up beside him. "Geoff?"

He turned to see a stricken little face and gently touched her shoulders. "I'm sorry, honey. Nothing's wrong. You just gave me an idea."

"I did?"

"Yes." He sat legs akimbo and took her hands. "Say you're sitting in a room, sleeping in bed, whatever, and you hear a subdominant seventh. What do you do?"

"Go nuts until I can find a piano or, as a last resort, scream it out loud."

He smiled. "Exactly."

"Hunh?"

"Can you help me record some?"

"Sure, I guess. But why?"

"It's a joke I want to play on someone at school." He couldn't tell her lest it failed.

"That's mean."

Geoff smiled, satisfied and lay back in bed with his hands behind his head. "Yep."

Molly lay down too, silent for a minute. Then, "Geoff?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we go to school today or the hospital?"

He didn't want them at school and out of his reach. "I don't think you'll be irreparably harmed if you miss school a day or two."

"Good. I didn't finish my homework."

"We'll finish it today."

"Are you sure?"

He turned to her and saw the grin. He couldn't help but return it. "Meaning?"

"It's a paper on All Saints Day."

"I can do research with the best of 'em." Molly burst out laughing. "Oh sure. Laugh at a person's handicap."

She laughed again. "But you don't consider it a handicap."

Geoff chuckled. "Ah not true. Any lack of knowledge is a handicap."

"I hear a but."

He chuckled. "Never mind. We'll finish your paper tomorrow."

"Thanks." She snickered again. "I love you, Geoff."

Oh God. He'd said that to only one other person, another child, and that child was dead. He had to answer Molly and not joke his way out of it. Should I tell her it's our secret?

"Christ no," from Ffoeg. "You'd sound like a pedophile. Don't make anything important out of it."

"But it's very important."

"Rewind what you played to Steve about the inverse not always being true."

"Doesn't apply."

"Apply it anyway.

"I love you too, Molly." And he was scared.

Chapter Ten

Heard melodies are sweet,

but those unheard are sweeter;

Keats

Geoff couldn't go to sleep after that so got up to catch up on some work. He was to spend the next two days at his office in the city. He was in the middle of that takeover and it was going smoothly, except for that blurt into the phone. Most of his deals went smoothly or he didn't finish them. Geoff rarely played the politics. If there were a hitch or hint of games, he backed out. He didn't need the deal and could afford to walk away. And he had on several occasions. Hence his reputation as a no-nonsense cold-blooded businessman. He was not there to promote dead weight. Once the company turned a profit, he sold it, usually back to the employees. At a profit, of course. He was called a corporate raider by his detractors, but wasn't even close to the Milkens of the business world. He never entered a deal unless approached first. Never initiated a takeover. It was also sound business practice. He made more money that way. It wasn't for the catch of the prize with Trevor. He still had the drive for money, but not for money's sake. Just what it brought. Independence. That was what Trevor wanted. Freedom. No one knew how much 'freedom' he had amassed. That was the whole point. But it had been written that he could start a small country on the interest alone in his Swiss accounts, let alone the rest of his holdings. He'd laughed at that, but it stirred him to take even more caution with his money lest Diamond get too interested in Trevor's bottom line. This was the only contest for him. The way he hid his money. And he alone knew to the penny what he had. It wasn't a Midas complex, it was survival. Power? Not really.

Trevor finished his paper work and went down to Carrie's gym to do his physical work. Steve came down and the look on his face stopped Trevor's heart. "What wrong, son?" He hadn't heard the phone or other voices.

"You're still here." The poor kid was actually surprised to see him. Relieved, too, Geoff was happy to note.

He smiled. "As promised."

Steve sighed. "Sorry."

"No problem." I understand completely. "Hungry?"

Geoff made a big breakfast for the kids then engaged Molly in their musical joke. Geoff could play most music, usually by ear, but the classical pieces were his weak point. He and Molly played and recorded until Steve came into the music room and looked down at his sister. "What key are you in?"

"B-flat."

Steve hit the dominant chord with a bang. "That's driving me nuts!" Geoff and Molly laughed and gave each other the high five.

Trevor and the Courtney children sat outside Carrie's room waiting for the precious minutes they were allowed in the room. Geoff sat outside with his worksheets and schoolwork and let the children go in by themselves. He became aware of the suspicions of the police nearby and realized it was his own fault. He hadn't been very sociable. Cooperative, but not sociable. And it seemed that these two policemen were going out of their way to be annoying.

"He guards those kids as if he's hiding something," one officer said to Julie Murphy.

"He plays it very close to the chest. It may not be anything except protecting them."

At that, Geoff looked over at her and offered her a small smile and nod to match. Perhaps a greeting. Perhaps not. "Jesus, did he hear us?" the cop asked her.

"You're paranoid."

"Probably. He may be just trying to pick you up." Under different circumstances that might have been true. But Geoff didn't want questions about Carrie. He'd had enough of those from others he'd dated. So had Carrie.

Matt Kohler, John's friend and ER Chief, came over and sat next to Geoff. "I know the children said they didn't want us to call anyone else, but I think it's something to consider."

Geoff sat upright. "Something happen?"

"No, no, it's not that. There's no change, but..."

"And that bothers you."

"Of course it does. We really can't find any physical reason for her to still be unconscious. Neuro is normal, good Alpha..."

"It's like she's just asleep?"

"To an extent, yes. We've removed the tube and she's breathing on her own. So there's no immediate danger. I just think that if she does take a turn for the worse, her family should be here. For themselves and the kids."

"I understand, but the kids would consider it final, as if everyone stays away, she'll have to wait."

Kohler nodded. "Part of denial."

"I suppose. But as you know, I promised them I wouldn't call anyone."

"Wouldn't her family be furious with you?"

Trevor shrugged. "I answer to the kids, not to them."

"How would it be if I called John?"

"I'd feel better, but it's not for me and not my call. _And_ I didn't hear you."

Matt nodded, stood, and offered his hand. "Nice not talking to you." He went to the nurses' station and asked the secretary to place the call. It took ten minutes. "John? Matt Kohler." And the actual conversation took half that. He held up the phone to Trevor and Geoff got up and walked over as if he were twice his weight. He sighed deeply then took the phone. "Hi, John. I'm not talking to you."

"I understand, Geoff. What the fuck happened?"

"Don't know. We don't have shit."

"No suspects?"

"Me."

"Christ. Geoff...I'm not sure how much you know about Carrie's husband, Steve..."

"Not much, but enough."

"Well, she's on this one-man crusade to clear him."

"Can't blame her."

"This might be related to him."

"Although it seems obvious, it's the first thing I checked. Even the kids thought so."

"Goddamn her."

"I know that feeling."

"When she wakes up, give her shit for me too, will you?" There was no question in her brother's mind. She would wake up.

"Will do."

"Thanks. I have a lecture in an hour, and then I'm leaving. I should be there tomorrow."

"Good."

"And I'm going to call my parents at least."

"Thank you."

"We can take care of the rest of the family if the need arises. Our sister, Lennie, may have my balls, however."

"She can have mine."

"Count on it. She will."

"Must be a Connor thing." He knew John was slightly angry and rightly so. "What about your brothers?"

"They'll have our heads."

"Which one," Geoff tried.

"When our balls are gone, it won't matter."

"Vicious bunch aren't you." He'd meant it as a joke.

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Geoff..."

"Don't be. You have every right to be pissed."

"I'll get over it."

"Or die with it, right?" He winced at quoting one of Carrie's phrases.

"Yeah. Matt says the kids are holding up. Are they really?"

"Tough little shits. Probably like Lennie, too."

"I know they're in good hands."

"Sorry, John, I won't betray them."

"Don't. You didn't call me. Matt did. They need someone and something they can count on right now. Just tell 'em..." His voice cracked. "Ah shit."

"I'll tell 'em. Maybe I can arrange for you to talk to them."

"You don't know how much I want that, Geoff."

"Yes, I do. And I apologize for not considering your feelings in this."

"You did. You just considered theirs more, as you should. I'll wait 'til tomorrow."

"Sure?"

"Yes." He paused a moment. "And I want these fuckers, Geoff."

Another Connor thing. "I know that feeling too."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Trevor was getting antsy. He wanted to try his music ploy. He took the kids home and again drew on his resources to distract and entertain them. He knew that one more day of this not knowing would wear very thin on these brave souls _. "God, Ffoeg what's going to happen to them?"_

_"Stop that! You've taken care of thousands of kids. You'll take care of these two."_ Ffoeg was right. Geoff never dwelled on anything. He just got it done. And for these two kids he would get it done. Carrie wasn't quite incidental because she was a friend, but she wasn't paramount. He left for the hospital at ten, once they were asleep with the promise that he would wake them regardless. The nurse looked up as he entered the room with his bundle. "More music," he explained. "Any change?"

"No. I'm sorry." She went over to her desk across the room.

"Don't be. She's going to come out of it." He sat at Carrie's bedside and as he talked, he changed the tapes. "If this doesn't get you, you're dead." He winced. "I'm nuts about your kids, but enough's enough, lady. You probably cost me two million already and trust me, I'll send you a bill this time. But I _will_ deduct for your goddamn glass door even though you never sent me a bill. Okay, listen to this." He pressed the button and sat quietly for a while.

The nurse looked up. "I don't know much about music, but those pieces don't sound complete."

"They aren't." He winced at one of his own deliberate mistakes. "Neither are they correct." After another few minutes, she automatically finished a piece she recognized. "Please don't do that," Geoff said. She looked confused and he explained, "Please don't finish the piece."

"Oh! You want her to."

"Can't hurt. Can it?"

"No. I think it's a great idea. But it's driving me crazy."

Geoff smiled. "Me too."

"So she'll know?"

"She's a music professor."

The nurse chuckled. "Good idea, Mr. Trevor. But where'd you get them?"

"Her daughter and I played them." Geoff had been so sure that this would work that after ten minutes he was discouraged. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Ah shit." He closed his eyes and leaned on his legs so he didn't see Carrie's hand hit the bed.

"Mr. Trevor."

Geoff looked up in time for, "Goddamn you, Trevor." She almost yelled. "Stop it!"

In his excitement he jumped to the bed. "Carrie?"

It startled her and she panicked. She fought off her 'attacker', intermingling Geoff's music ploy with her actual assault. "What are you doing? Why? I'm going to kill you, Trevor."

Geoff held her arms to keep her from hurting herself or discharging her IVs. Her nurse was at the bedside assisting. "Come on, Carrie, wake up. Everything's okay. Relax, honey. It's over. You're safe."

Carrie shook her head and finally opened her eyes. She took a few seconds to focus and ended on Trevor. "Geoff?"

He smiled. "Hi, sleepy head."

She looked at her surroundings. "I'm in a hospital?"

"Can't pull one over on you."

She panicked again. "The kids. Geoff, what.."

He calmed her immediately. "They're fine. I've been with them for the past two days." She visibly relaxed. "They're asleep as we speak."

"How are they? What do they know? I want to see them."

"They're holding up. They know what I know...basically. And I'll go get them now if you want."

She started to cry with relief and the nurse took this time to get the doctors. "Oh God." It finally hit.

Geoff held her hand. "It's gonna be okay, honey." He kissed her forehead.

She sniffed back her tears and put it behind her. Too soon, Geoff thought. "You're right. It's going to be okay and I'm going home." She looked towards the music. "And turn off that goddamn tape!" Geoff laughed. "And Bach! It's a wonder I didn't die."

"It's the first time I played it and you woke up."

"Self-defense," she said as Geoff pressed the button. The door flew open to, "I hate you, Trevor!" Two policemen and two doctors entered, the former taking Trevor's arms.

"Come with us, sir."

"What's going on here?" Carrie asked.

"I'm the only warm body they have," Geoff explained.

"Oh for crissake, let go of him," she demanded.

"We'll take care of this, Ma'am," an officer replied.

"I said let him go or you'll have more law suits than you'll be able to read in a lifetime!"

"That's tellin' 'em, honey."

"Shut up, Geoff," she squeaked and caught her breath with difficulty. The doctors went to her assistance and Carrie held up her hand. "No." She looked around them to the two policemen. "Take your hands off him," she ordered, enunciating each word as a command.

"Carrie," Geoff said, "calm down. I'll clear it up and..."

"No." She gasped.

Kohler said, "For crissake, let him go." But it was unnecessary. Trevor had released himself and was beside Carrie before Kohler had finished his sentence.

Carrie clasped Geoff's hand in hers and glared at the police. "The things you said, Ma'am," one tried.

Carrie looked at Geoff, her breathing more under control. "What'd I say?"

He told her and added, "You mixed your metaphors or some such shit."

"I did not mix..." she grinned. "Who played the Bach?"

"I did. Your poor daughter was cheated on the Baroque period."

Carrie chuckled. "I _will_ kill you."

"Anytime." He made a move to sit on the bed and the two cops followed. Geoff looked at them and before he could smart off, Carrie said, "Geoffrey."She squeezed his hand. "Come on," she coaxed. She saw that he was getting angry and looked at everyone. "Will you all excuse us, please?" One of the policemen started to say something and Carrie beat him to it. "All. Adjective. Every number or individual component..."

"Carrie," Geoff admonished and squeezed her hand. She patted the bed and he sat. "Do you want me to get the kids?"

"No. I probably look horrible and I'm...I'm not right yet." Geoff nodded that he understood. "But I will be by tomorrow."

"Honey..."

"I will be."

"All right."

"But may I call them?"

"Sure." He'd promised to call any time of day or night. "We'll hook up a phone and...."

"Can we check you over first?"

Carrie looked at the doctor and Geoff introduced him. "Matt Kohler, he's..."

"A friend of John's. Yes, I know the name. Hello, Dr. Kohler."

"Matt, please. And this is Tom Mullin from GI. May we give you a check?"

"If while you do that you can send someone for a phone."

"I'll get one," Trevor said, stood and turned for the door. He turned back to the policemen. "Better split up, boys. One has to make sure I don't bolt."

"Geoffrey." It wasn't an admonishment this time. She just shook her head with her lips quirked in a half-smile.

Trevor made another call before he went back to Carrie. "Get those fucking cops off my back," and hung up. He saw a nurse look up at him."Just a slight communication problem," he explained and left with the phone. When he turned for the room, the policemen were standing outside. That was quick, he thought until he went inside and saw the curtain drawn around Carrie. Kohler was outside the curtain writing in the chart on the desk. Geoff heard her gasp and winced in sympathy. "Is she okay," he mouthed to Kohler. He glanced at the chart and saw the word 'rectal' as he laid the phone on the desk.

"We think so. GI's checking for any..."

"Dr. Kohler." It was Carrie.

"Right here."

"Mr. Trevor is not privy to my medical information."

"I'm sorry, but..."

"I'll find out, Carrie," Geoff said. "And so will John."

"It's none of your damn business. Or John's."

They all heard, "Mrs. Courtney, would you please..."

"Consult's over, Dr. Mullin."

"Jesus Christ, Carrie, let the man..." He put two and two together. "Ah fuck!"

"You heard nothing, Trevor," from Carrie.

"Bull _shit_ I heard nothing."

Carrie heard his hand hit the door as he left. "Dammit."

Kohler opened the curtain. "I'm sorry, Carrie," he said, "but he's been here with your kids for the past two days. John vouched for him so I assumed he was a close friend."

"Which is why I don't want him knowing every dirty detail."

"He seems strong enough to handle it. And help you, I might add."

She couldn't explain her reasons to this man or anyone, including Geoff. Especially Geoff. "He is. But as you can see, he has a bit of the vigilante in him. And I don't want him getting hurt because he flies off the handle." She almost laughed at herself for that lie, especially after the way Geoff had effortlessly slipped out of the policemen's grasp, but continued. "Would you please get him? I can't call my kids myself or I'll scare them."

"Yes, of course." He left and found Geoff outside the coffee machine. "Geoff?"

Trevor turned. "God _damn_ she pisses me off."

"Tough lady."

"Still pisses me off." He took a sip of coffee.

Kohler smiled. "And she'd like you to pave the way to her kids for her."

"Oh shit that's right." He took a deep breath then tossed his coffee cup in the trash. "How do you drink that?"

"I don't."

Trevor smiled. "Let's go, Doc."

"Officer Farmer?" The policeman turned to the nurse who was holding out a phone. Trevor had the good grace not to say anything. He didn't say much to Carrie either, just dialed the phone. He got Molly first. "Hi, snookums. It worked."

"What did?"

"Your subdominant sevenths." Now it was 'your' since it had worked.

"Oh, for your friend."

Geoff glanced at Carrie, his 'friend' and said, "That's debatable, but yes, my friend. And your mother."

"Mommy?"

"The same. Wanna talk at her?" Molly always thought it was cute when Geoff said 'talk at' rather than 'talk to' so he did it again this time. Things were back to normal.

"Wait, I'll get Stevie." He heard her hit the intercom and call her brother, although she didn't need an intercom with the volume and excitement in her voice. Trevor then handed Carrie the phone and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"Now that they're up, I'm going back. I'll bring them by first thing tomorrow. Good night." He hit the tape recorder then left. The nurse burst out laughing.

"I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'll kill him." She looked at the nurse and asked, "Could you please turn that off?" The nurse got the hint and turned it off on the way out of the room.

Carrie tried to keep herself from crying when she said 'hello' to her children.

Trevor stopped to talk to the two cops. "I apologize for being a prick, but you really are way off base."

"We understand, sir," Farmer said.

"Good. Thanks. But if it's not too much to ask, I'd like you to stay right here outside this door and not let anyone in that room except the medical personnel you've already seen. Carrie can OK anyone else."

"Those are our instructions, sir."

"Really. Hmmm. And knock off the 'sir' if you don't mind. It's Geoff." He left wondering what Diamond was up to now.

Carrie insisted that she be moved to a less threatening room before her children arrived the next day. When Geoff arrived with the kids the next morning, they were all momentarily stricken at the empty bed. "She's been moved to a private room," a nurse told them.

"Why wasn't I told?" he asked himself.

"Because you aren't privy to her medical information," Ffoeg answered.

"Smart ass," he said as he got in the elevator.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"Me. I'm just reminding myself not to be a smart ass. I haven't made many friends here."

Steve chuckled. "Except the women." He'd seen the way the women eyed Trevor.

"Save one."

"Who?" Molly wanted to know.

"Your mother's a little pi...angry with me."

"Another elision?" Molly asked with the cutest little grin.

Geoff burst out laughing as the elevator doors opened causing heads to turn. "Ooops." He looked down at the kids and pretended to scold them. "Behave yourselves, children. I swear, can't take you anywhere." Steve smiled and shook his head and Molly giggled. Trevor lost his own smile when he saw Diamond coming down the hall.

The man seemed so sincere."Molly, Steve. I'm so sorry to hear about your mother." He kissed Molly on the cheek and shook hands with Steve. They thanked him, also very sincere, Geoff thought. "But I understand she's going to be fine."

"Yes," Molly said. "We knew she would be."

"And you were right." He looked at Trevor nodded a greeting. "Geoff."

"Sir."

"Does your being here suggest that my mother's assault is related to my father?"

"I can see where you would get that idea, Steve, but I just came to see that everything is all right."

"Can you find out who did it?" Molly put him on the spot with a child's innocence. Geoff just raised a questioning brow at his boss. "Answer that one," his expression told him.

"I can sure try," he lied smoothly and changed topics. "I hear you're a future Olympian, Molly. Is that true?"

"It's a long way away and I have a lot of work to do." Geoff cringed at the way she seemed to warm to him. How would she feel if she knew he was responsible for her near hit and run?

"And you, Steve, have you decided which sport you want yet?"

Steve smiled politely. "No, not really. I like 'em all."

"And school's going well, too, I believe."

"Yes," Molly answered. "Mom says that comes first."

"And she's absolutely right." He wasn't as patronizing as it sounded.

"With two Ivy Leaguers for parents, " Steve said, "we haven't much choice."

Diamond laughed. "Good point, Steve. And you're looking more like your father every day."

Geoff held his breath for Steve's answer and wasn't disappointed. "Thank you," the teen said simply.

"I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you want to see your mom." They said goodbye with another kiss and a handshake and Geoff led them towards the room. "Geoff?" Trevor turned. "When you get a chance." Trevor nodded and turned back towards the kids. Out of earshot Molly whispered, "A-hole."

"Molly," Steve whispered in correction.

"I don't like him one bit."

Trevor was glad his back was to Diamond because that one surprised him. "Could have fooled me."

"Just as long as I fooled him," she said. "You won't tell him will you?"

"Of course not." Thank God. "Good morning, gentlemen," Geoff said to the policemen. Farmer was still there, but he had a new partner. Trevor glanced at him and Farmer introduced them. "This is Officer Malcolm, Mr. Trevor."

They shook hands and Geoff asked, "You vouch for him?"

His tone was in jest but Farmer picked up on it. "Yes, sir," he smiled, "if being my partner for five years is any praise."

Geoff pat Farmer on the shoulder, "Good man, Officer Farmer."

"Thank you, sir." Geoff cocked his head. He knew Farmer had something to say and nodded for him to go ahead. The man was good enough to disguise the message. "Mrs. Courtney has someone with her. Julie Murphy." He looked at the kids and explained, "Another police officer."

"I'm sure she won't be long," Geoff said. And she wasn't. The rape counselor came out of the room not thirty seconds later. Geoff told the kids to go on in and he would stay outside for a few minutes.

"You were right," Murphy said. "She won't talk."

Geoff gave her a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. She tell you anything else?"

"Just not to tell you anything."

Trevor snickered and shook his head. "Then don't."

"I can't. Nothing to tell. And it's not good for her."

Geoff had a thought. "If you think it's because of me that she won't talk, I'll convince her I won't trick it out of you." He winced. "I mean, I...ah shit, I'm sorry." Deliberate.

"Don't apologize for a talent, Mr. Trevor. I'm sure you already know which of my buttons to push." She smiled. "Or not to push."

Trevor looked contrite. "Damn her," he said. "Okay, I promise not to push any buttons."

"Even hers?"

He smiled politely. "That's between her and me."

Julie Murphy laughed. "It's probably academic anyway. The same warning extended to her brother. I don't think she'll talk period."

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"No, no one."

While they were talking, Trevor persuading her not to talk to Collier, so were two other nurses. "That blazer's a thousand bucks if it's a penny. The jeans a couple o' hundred. And Ralph Lauren sweater at least five."

"The running shoes are one-eighty," the other said. "I wanted them but couldn't swing it."

"I bet he didn't even think twice or even look at the price." She obviously didn't know Trevor.

"Well good for him. He worked for it."

"How do you know?"

"Read it in FORTUNE MAGAZINE."

"And you believed it."

"For the most part, yeah," said Trevor's defender. "He doesn't take shit from anyone. Ah, to afford that luxury."

"Doesn't take prisoners from what I heard from ICU and ER."

"Only at first. Now he even has Julie laughing and you know how serious she is."

"The kids are adorable."

"Don't even look cross-eyed at them while he's around."

"Is he their father? The boy kinda looks like him."

"No. Their father's dead. Trevor just has a thing for kids. Says they're better company."

"I agree on that score."

A chuckle. "He also said kids are our greatest commodity."

"Typical businessman." She turned to her friend. "And the other thing I'll agree on is that I wouldn't throw him out of bed."

"You keep him in bed, I'll knick the shoes," said the runner and they both laughed. And that runner never did discover who sent her the pair of running shoes she'd drooled over, even the right size.

Chapter Eleven

The wish for healing

has always been half of health.

Seneca

Trevor went to the lounge to see Diamond. "How is she," the leader wanted to know. Trevor just shrugged with a quirk of his lips. "She say anything?"

"Not talking." Keeping your secret if that's what you mean.

"To you?"

"Me or anyone." I wouldn't tell you anyway and you know it.

"Cops don't have much."

"She's not giving them much." Diamond could find that out himself.

"Will she talk to anyone?"

"Like a shrink?" Kenyon again? Forget it.

"Anyone."

"Probably not. Not her style."

"You going to do anything?"

"That _is_ my style isn't it?" He turned and left the lounge having accomplished absolutely nothing. Either of them.

After Trevor had the kids sent home with a policeman, he thought it was time to start on Carrie. "If you're as experienced as I'm confident you are, push some of her buttons," Julie Murphy had said, "and get her to open up."

"What do you see?"

"She's clamming up, too tight, too soon."

"Carrie's not one for denial or avoidance. Postponement maybe. Delay."

"Something's shutting her up."

Geoff thought he knew what that was and plotted his strategy - honesty. A new challenge for me, he thought. He took a deep breath to enter the room knowing what he'd find. And he wasn't disappointed. Carrie was trying to get out of bed. He had to check himself from going to her aid. She'd spurn him. "How much do they deduct for a bend in the middle?"

She looked up at him. "A pike? Depends."

Good, she's accepted me. "Need a spot?"

"Thanks but I have to go this one alone."

Then again, maybe she hasn't. "Where you going?"

"For the gold, of course." She let go of the bed and tried to straighten and got dizzy. "Oh God." She reached for the bed and missed.

Trevor caught her before she hit the floor. "Would you accept the silver?"

She accepted his aid to the bed. "That didn't even place me."

"Maybe you need more practice."

She looked at him. "Can't afford it."

"Would you tell a kid with only two weeks of gymnastics to do a series on the beam?"

"Of course not."

"And neither can I. Can we stop this shit now?"

She lowered her head and shook it. "Can't, Geoff."

"I know him better than you do. I can..."

Her confused look cut him off. "Who?"

"Who do you think?"

She didn't correct his grammar. "Collier?" He said nothing. "He had nothing to do with this."

"You believe that," a surprised comment.

"Yes." Be careful, she told herself. "You don't?"

"Why can't the cops pick up even the smallest trace? Why aren't you cooperating with them?"

"Apparently they thought they had their man." Geoff frowned. "And I am cooperating. I gave them everything I could remember. I just don't want to talk to that rape counselor."

"Why not? She seems quite competent."

"I'm sure she is. But I know me and how to take care of me."

"I'm not sure. You're trying too hard too soon."

"If she told you that, she's not as competent as you think she is."

"I know you better than she does."

"So you told her that?"

"Stop it, Carrie. I've told no one anything. I just told her you wouldn't talk to her."

Carrie half smiled. "She asked me about you."

He shrugged. "So what's new?" He returned the half smile. "But thanks. She crossed me off her list of suspects after that." Carrie chuckled and let her head fall against his shoulder. "You okay?" he asked gently as he stroked the nape of her neck.

"Yes. But you know what I really need?"

"A good hot shower." He pronounced each word as a declaration.

She straightened and studied him. He said nothing and finally she said, "Why is it we think that only women get raped?"

"'Cause you're a chauvinist."

"Well, look at you. You're fine."

"It didn't happen overnight."

She stood up again. "Maybe I'm stronger than you are."

"No doubt about it." He took her hand and she turned to him. "But I had help."

"You went to a shrink?" Her surprise was obvious.

"Not a shrink really." She knit her brows and cocked her head. "One Hung Lo." Carrie rolled her eyes and frowned. "We called him that. His name is Hwang Lo. Our martial arts guru."

"We? Our?"

"Stu and I."

"Oh, your best friend."

"He helped too, of course."

"Are you suggesting I need help?"

"Would it make any difference?"

"As they say," she stood to make her point. "If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger."

"Christ, that old bromide. But even you have to walk before you do a beam series."

"But I can already do a beam series." Trevor frowned. "I get your point. So are you going to help me to the beam or do I crawl?"

He smiled and held out his hand as if they were entering a ballroom. "My pleasure."

She gave him a reminiscent smile. "Not entirely, but you may claim half."

"God," he laughed and escorted her. "And can you believe I used that line on someone?"

"And you went home alone no doubt."

"Yeah. It sucked. Thanks a lot."

"It's all in the delivery, dear boy."

He chuckled. "Sit." He helped her down to the toilet seat and then started the water. "More hot than cold?" he asked with his back to her and eyes on the tub. Carrie wasn't listening. She was looking at this man, her friend, as he ministered to her needs. Particularly her children. They had told her of the past two days with Geoff. She saw her kids at ease. They were not only brave and stalwart, they were calm and controlled. They had had direction at a time she couldn't give it. "Carrie?" He turned when he got no answer.

"Where would they be without your direction?"

"What?" Carrie rest her head in her hand and Geoff gently touched her arms. "Honey?"

She rubbed her face and looked at him. "Would you please stand guard and not let anyone in no matter what they pay you?"

He smiled. "Anything over ten bucks will require some serious thought. I'm running a little short right now."

"Yeah, I cost you two million."

"Ha! You heard that?"

"Must've."

"Well damn. I wasted all that time on the subdominant sevenths."

She smiled. "It _was_ brilliant."

"Ah shit," he teased. "I wanted to be a pain in the ass."

"That wouldn't require any thought or brilliance."

He dropped his jaw pretending to be shocked and offended. "Fuck you very much."

"Someone did."

He didn't even flinch. Was this a test? "One?" No answer. "And you don't want them caught?"

"Of course I do. But I have to be realistic. The trail's getting colder by the minute. I can't dwell on that or I'll never get better."

"Okay." He stood up and took her arm to help her stand. "And you can start with a hot shower. You don't _know_ how good it'll feel."

"But I won't feel clean. I read that somewhere."

"Physically, yes." Why don't I ask her about her other shower? Her business. "But you'll feel better."

And she did. Geoff sat outside as the sentinel she requested. Carrie let the hot water wash away the medical smell and the intrusive male odor she felt was still there. Geoff was right, physically, she did feel better. The cleansing was an enormous salve. She knew she'd make it. Then she thought of her kids.

Geoff rose as the nurse/runner entered the room. "Where is Mrs. Courtney?"

"Shower," was the short answer, although he wasn't intending to be rude.

"She shouldn't even be out of bed yet. I was going to sponge her."

"Don't tell her that."

"I will." She started for the door and Geoff stepped in front of her. "Mr. Trevor, please step away from the door."

"Sorry, I can't."

"And what if she falls?"

"She won't."

"How do you know that?"

"She was an Olympic gymnast for crissake. She can stand up in a shower."

"She was? When?" The athlete in her was curious.

"Sixty-six. Won four golds." Keep her talking, stall her.

"Really?" She returned to the situation at hand. "While that's wonderful, she wasn't unconscious for two days before she competed."

Geoff shrugged and before she could say anything else, he beat her to it. "Look, you can CYA anyway you want. I promise she won't sue if she breaks anything."

"I resent that."

"And I apologize. I was out of line." But it was, as usual, deliberate. He wanted someone here to take care of Carrie, not the lawyers and administrators. He could trust this one, as he'd guessed when he'd heard her talking with her friend earlier. "But I still can't let you go in there."

"May I just stand next to the door and listen?"

Geoff smiled. "Of course. I'll even sit over here." He went almost the width of the room and sat in a chair. They talked of running and athletics until Kelsey, that was her name, asked, "Is Mrs. Courtney still involved in gymnastics?"

"Yes. She's our college coach." Geoff smiled at, "Tough broad."

Kelsey could tell that crack meant something to them. "But don't you think she's pushing it a bit?"

"It won't matter to her what I think."

Kelsey smiled, a pretty girl with very short hair, little make-up, and athletic carriage. "I heard. It'll probably help her recover quicker. She seems very strong and secure."

Geoff chuckled. "To say Carrie's pretty secure is analogous to saying the Titanic was a dingy. She..." He stopped and listened. "Oh Jesus." He was across the room and opening the door before Kelsey had time to react. "Carrie?" he called. No answer. He opened the curtain to see her slide to the bottom of the tub..."Oh God." Is this it, he wondered. He turned back as Kelsey appeared beside him.

"Did you fall, Mrs. Courtney?"

"No," Geoff answered for her. "Can you get some help please?" The nurse left the room and Geoff looked for a towel to cover Carrie. There were three of them on the floor of the tub, soaking wet. He stepped into the tub and bent to her. "Honey?" Nothing. "Talk to me, sweetheart, please," he said to a figure so tightly coiled all he saw was her hair.

"I'm cold," she said quietly.

He took off his jacket and draped it over her naked body, completely covering her small frame. "Can I take you out?"

"No." She looked up at him and he saw such sadness that he almost cried himself. "You were right. It feels good." She buried her head back in her knees. "All I wanted for them was a happy secure childhood." She looked up at him again, water and tears sluicing her cheeks. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Of course not." His own face was dripping with the falling water he hadn't turned off. Kelsey, her friend, and Matt Kohler stepped inside the small room. Geoff held up his hand to stay them. "What did they do to deserve this?" She didn't expect an answer and continued. "How will they ever be happy? Live without fear, shame, and humiliation? Let alone something they didn't create. Is this going to do irreparable damage?"

He could have argued the same for other kids who were starving, abused, afflicted with a terminal illness. But that wasn't what Carrie needed to hear. She was the mother of these two children. A mother who fought and lived for her children. She had had a good childhood herself and expected to be able to provide one for her own children. It wasn't working and her children were paying the price. Geoff answered in the only way he knew she would accept. "You won't let it." He wiped the water from her face and repeated his answer.

She looked at him for a long moment, digesting his words. He saw her face change, the pity and sorrow being replaced with strength and determination. "You're goddamned right I won't."

He smiled his pride in her. "That's my girl."

Carrie saw that he was taking the brunt of the waterfall, his body shielding hers from the cascade. She wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "You're wet."

"What was your first clue?" Carrie smiled. It was a start. "Can I turn off the fucking shower now?"

Her smile grew into a chuckle and she thought how ridiculous this whole scene had to be. She cupped his face with her hands, her chuckle turning to tears. "I'm so sorry, Geoff." Kelsey reached in and turned off the water.

"Cayetta, damita," another word he coined, "and let me get you outta here."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to walk to my bed."

"No argument from me."

"So that's what it takes." They exchanged a private smile and Geoff mussed her hair. The onlookers felt the intruders in this sweet exchange. Sensing this, Carrie fluffed her hair. "Think it'll sell?"

"You could sell rubbers to Ghandi." Everyone laughed and Geoff took Carrie's elbow to help her up. His jacket covered her to the knees and Carrie pulled it around her more from the chill than her nakedness. Geoff helped her over the tub and fortunately Kohler took her other arm because Geoff and his 180-dollar running shoes slipped on the wet floor. He caught himself on the sink before he hit the floor. "Shit."

Seeing that he was all right, Carrie lifted her head and straightened her shoulders in a haughty gesture. "Good God, Trevor, can't you stand on your own two feet?" She strutted out of the bathroom to, "Fuck you for caring," and laughter. But Trevor wasn't laughing. With everyone concentrating on Carrie, he quietly shut the door. He leaned on the sink, sighed, and looked in the mirror. "You pulled it off this time. What next? I've never seen her so fucking helpless. _How much more can she take," he asked Ffoeg._

"And she hasn't even addressed her own personal violation."

"Jesus. Why did he do this to her?" He still blamed Diamond. "What does he want from her?"

"It has to be connected to her husband. Even the kids figured that out."

"I agree, peripherally. But their sample space is smaller. She hasn't told them everything and she's told me shit. I'm missing some pieces."

"What's your role in this anyway? What's he want from you?"

"You know the answer to that."

_"It's gone beyond that, Geoff," his alter ego said. "She was sent to get you and failed. He's not still punishing her for that. Yes, he still wants you. And no, he's not still punishing you through her or the kids. He would be swift and direct. He doesn't want you_ _yet._ _"_

"What's he waiting for?"

"Whatever it is, I don't think Carrie has any direct emphasis on it."

"Should I keep my distance from her then?"

_"No. He's after both of you for two separate reasons. But I agree, an alliance scares him. I also think_ _he worries less about that than his near obsession with getting something from her."_

Geoff didn't get to finish his 'conversation' with himself because of a knock on the door. He grabbed the only dry piece in the bathroom, a washcloth, and started messaging his scalp. "Yes?" The door opened and Geoff saw Kelsey in the doorway. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes. She's in bed and asked me to check on you."

Shit, she suspects. He turned to the nurse. "Just trying to dry off. I'm soaked." He lowered his voice. "Is she okay?"

"One good thing...She wasn't ashamed." He waited. "She didn't grab for cover when you went in."

He smiled. "Good point. Thanks." He left the bathroom and turned the corner to Carrie's bed. "All snug and warm now are we?"

" _We_ aren't."

He picked up his blazer. "Aw Christ, look at this. It's ruined. You owe me a new one."

"I bought that one , remember?" Kelsey didn't look at her friend, deliberately.

"Only to replace the one you ruined spraying champagne all over it."

Carrie laughed at the memory. "You deserved it."

Geoff smiled. "I probably did." He wrung out his sleeve. "Okay, you're off the hook." He glanced at the doctors who nodded that Carrie was all right. "Unlike you, I don't have a ready change of clothes. I'm going home to get dry before I get poomonia." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Get some rest and behave yourself or you'll never get out of here. The kids'll be back at three."

"And you?"

God, those eyes. He took her hand and bounced it in his. "Whatever you want me to do."

"I want you to recoup that loss and call me if you need any help doing it. I can't afford to carry you much longer." She gave his hand a final squeeze and let it drop.

"Can you just give me another 48 hours," he pleaded. "Then I promise," he held up his hand, swearing an oath. "It's the last time." He sounded too sincere.

Carrie chuckled. "Get out of here, Trevor." After he left, she looked at the faces around her knowing their confusion. "He's just kidding." And she laughed aloud. The best medicine.

Chapter Twelve

The friend who can be silent with us

in a moment of despair or confusion...

not healing, not curing...that is a

friend who cares.

Nouwen

John Connor didn't like or dislike Geoff Trevor. He didn't really know him. And he blamed that on Trevor. He knew only what Carrie had told him and neither was she that forthcoming. John had seen Geoff on several occasions, been out with him on two. John was a pediatric surgeon and attended benefits for children, as did Geoff. They had left together after two of those benefits. The first time John was hesitant because he didn't know Trevor's relationship with his sister. Assured there was nothing romantic between them, he let Geoff fix him up with a friend. The second time John returned the favor. Both times all four went to a private club and off to their respective pursuits. His relationship with Geoff was superficial, that of two bachelors on the town. Only through Carrie did he know of Trevor's more serious side and devotion to children, particularly hers. That was why he wasn't too angry or too resentful of Geoff's refusal to call him about Carrie because of his loyalty to her children. _Too_ angry. _Too_ resentful, but definitely a little of each. Carrie after all was Trevor's friend as well. "But she's unconscious and in good hands." He realized he should also be a little angry with Matt Kohler, but the man did finally call him - finally. "But she's my goddamn sister, Matt," he complained when he found Kohler at the hospital and got an update. At least she was out of danger now.

"I know, John. But the kids assured me she wouldn't want you or your family notified unless absolutely necessary. And she confirmed that today. She's pissed at me as it is."

John shook his head. "My sister's stubborn to say the least and I could find a million holes in your statement, but..." he sighed. "Okay, let's forget that. Where's her chart?"

"Uh, well..."

"Now what?"

"She said you're not privy to her medical information."

"What? Come on, Matt, this is bullshit."

"John, she'll sue me and the hospital."

"Is Geoff privy?"

"No. That warning included him."

"Well, if I know him, and I really don't, he'll find out."

"What makes you think he'll tell you? Carrie said she didn't want him to know because he's a bit of a vigilante and might get hurt."

John knit his brows. "Hurt? Geoff?"

"What?"

"I don't know." He did know. Carrie had lied to Kohler. "Geoff was a SEAL with half a dozen medals under his belt." John also knew Geoff was with the CIA but didn't reveal that tidbit. "As for vigilante? I'm not sure, but he's not stupid."

"And why you?"

"Because I am a vigilante, stupid, and might get hurt."

Kohler chuckled and pat John on the back. "Let's go see your sister." They started down the hall when they turned at someone calling John's name. It was Trevor.

"You just get in?" he asked as they shook hands. In other words, have you seen Carrie?

"Yeah, I was just getting caught up. How are the kids?"

"Okay. I just left them. They'll have a good night's sleep."

"Good. I'll stop by to see them. Have you heard anything else?"

"No."

John sighed with a, "Shit. Well....let's go talk to her."

Trevor shook his head. "I don't what to gang up on her.

"I didn't mean that. We just talk, see how she is."

"The two of us saying hello will put her on the defensive. You go on in. I'll go back to the kids." He touched John's arm. "But John, she's not dealing with it yet."

John nodded. "Carrie has this legendary delayed reaction that..."

"I know that and that's not what she's doing. She's not delaying it, she's dismissing it."

"Why?"

"I think part of it is that she wants to go home to the kids and nothing short of dying is going to keep her from it."

"The other part?"

"I'm not sure," he lied. He was sure it was because Carrie didn't want them finding out what really happened. Why? That he couldn't answer, so lied to Carrie's brother. Maybe John could find out and, having this bond of frustration with Geoff, might tell him. "But I'm glad you're here," he added a brotherly touch. Then said for effect, "God, am I glad you're here."

John smiled in sympathy. "Be glad Lennie isn't here with her."

"Then I'd need you and the WWF to even have a chance."

"Carrie can do that by herself."

"True." He walked John to Carrie's room and introduced him to Officer Farmer. "He's a good guy," he told Farmer.

"How'd you manage that?" John asked after they'd stepped aside.

Kohler said, "Carrie and Lennie aren't the only ones who can take on the WWF."

"But stick around will you, Geoff?" John said and opened Carrie's door not giving Trevor a chance to respond.

"So can he," Trevor said. "Must be a Connor thing."

"I'd almost like to watch this," John's friend said.

"I wouldn't go within a ten foot nuke rod. Where's peds?" Pediatrics.

Although John was younger, Carrie was still his 'little' sister and he sometimes treated her that way. Now he must guard against that and the pity he felt. He knew his sister well enough to know she'd be out of bed, but he didn't expect to see her packing what little she had. Geoff had brought a dark green warm-up suit and tennis shoes. "Checking out?"

Carrie turned to her brother and produced a big smile. While others might not have seen it, John saw the strain and restraint behind it. They gave each other a warm embrace, John wanting to hold on longer. Carrie pulled back slightly, pat his chest, and said, "You didn't need to come, Johnny."

He took her hands in his. "And if the situation were reversed, you'd stay away."

"You're right. I'm sorry." She flashed a grin. "But I'm not a wuss."

"No argument there. How are you? Really."

"Getting there." She couldn't lie to her brother. She turned back to resume her packing. "I thought I heard Geoff's voice."

"He didn't want both of us coming in here ganging up on you."

"Smart man." She punctuated her statement with a snap of the overnight case.

"And a helluva friend to you." He sat in a nearby chair.

"Yes he is." She sighed, somewhat saddened. "But you know Geoff."

"Not really."

She continued. "He always has an ulterior motive."

"And what might that be?"

"He doesn't advertise."

"You question his loyalty to you?" He paused deliberately. "Or to the kids?"

"No-o-o-o," she answered tentatively. "He'd walk through fire for those kids."

"He didn't call me because he promised them he wouldn't."

Carrie heard the resentment and chuckled. "See what I mean about loyalty? Even you consider it misplaced."

"Won't work, Care-Bear. Unless you think he's trying to turn the kids against you."

Carrie smiled at her specious reasoning. "He's probably in Peds right now playing with the kids. And if the gift shop were open, there'd be nothing left for anyone else to buy." She took it further. "Actually that's no obstacle. He'd charm somebody into doing it the minute the shop opened in the morning and tell them to send him the bill."

John smiled. "Cute story, Carrie. And I know it's true." Geoff had done it on John's beat.

"But I didn't answer your question."

"Nope."

"You can trust him, John. I mean that."

"This is about Steve isn't it?"

Carrie looked appropriately shocked. "Is _that_ what you think?"

"So does Geoff."

"He's innately suspicious."

"The kids."

"They also have reason to be suspicious." She sagged to her chair. "And no one can ever rid me of that guilt."

"Honey..."

She stood with resolve. "And I'll be goddamned if _anyone_ will ever hurt them again."

He said softly, "This crusade of yours is doing it for you."

"And I quit."

"So it is related to Steve."

"It's because everyone thinks it is and it could be dangerous. So I quit."

He crossed to her and took her hands again. "You mean for now." He was no fool.

"John, he was their father. How would we have felt at that age if Dad had been accused of treason?"

"Probably the same way they do. But I think you're doing this for you. Or a promise to a dying man."

"To a point, yes. It kills me every time one of them comes home crying or hurt because of some insensitive little bastard. Mom and Dad lost accounts because of it. David was fired from his first law firm because it said, 'something about our firm.' It sure as hell did. And you were asked to withdraw your application for assistant professor..."

"And you think you can correct it? None of these people will give a shit. We were stained. No I don't like having to defend my brother-in-law, but we'll all take that over attending your goddamn funeral." His voice broke and he smiled sheepishly. "Our delayed reaction. I didn't know until I landed that you'd come out of it."

Carrie put her arms around him. "I'm sorry, little brother. That's why I didn't want anyone to know." One reason, anyway. But she kept the rest to herself. "I'd be fine and tell everyone later."

He separated. "I'm a doctor, sweetheart, and I know from experience that's the wrong thing to do. You may think you're sparing them the suffering, but you're really cheating them out of precious moments. And I'd have killed Matt and Geoff both for not calling me."

"Does that mean that you called everyone else?"

"Just Mom and Dad. They'd cut me off. Lennie'd just cut my balls off."

She chuckled and pat his hand. "I'll handle Lennie."

"And Rory and David." She agreed with a nod. John held her hands and stood back. "Now, I want to talk about your physical condition." Carrie started to speak but he stopped her. "Just the effect, not the cause." He paused. "For now." She nodded once. "Anything hurt that you're ignoring or passing off?" He waved it off. "Dumb question. If you do experience pain or anything unusual, please come to me. I won't report it, won't ask questions, and won't lecture you. Deal?"

"Deal." She hugged him for affection and to end this conversation. "Oh, John, tell me," she said as if just remembering something. "You know a doctor named Stuart Levy don't you?"

"Yes, of course. Well, not enough to go bounding into his office saying, 'Hi, Stu, how's it hanging?', but enough to knock on his door and say, "Good morning, Dr. Levy, do you have a minute?'." Carrie burst out laughing at the contrast. "You might even say he's my boss."

"I thought Shumaker was Chairman."

"He is. But he's retiring and Levy will probably get the nod."

"How old is he? I thought he was young."

"'Bout your age, I guess."

"That's young to be chairman."

"From what I hear, he doesn't want it. Not yet. He still wants to practice."

"Any good?"

"The best. Best hands I've ever seen. He's chest and destined for greatness, whether he wants it or not." He cocked his head just like his sister. "Why? How do you know him?"

"I don't. He's a very good friend of Geoff's."

"No shit?"

"You seem surprised. What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing. Actually I shouldn't be surprised. He's smart as hell, single, loaded, good looking, and quite the catch. Geoff want to fix you up with him?"

"Not that he's said. I must ask him why not." She pretended offense.

John smiled. "All that shit makes you an asshole."

"You're all of those things too."

"Usually makes you an asshole," he qualified.

"Is he?"

"No, not at all. Very humble, generous with his knowledge, great teacher, women love him, and Christ, even the guys like him."

"Sound like someone we know?" And someone she might like to get to know.

"Geoff?" Carrie nodded. "He's a little more serious than Geoff, but I hear he leaves 'em smiling too. In fact, I know he does." Carrie cocked her head. "I pale by comparison."

Carrie laughed, then had an idea. "Think I should go out with him?" John raised his eyes. "I said out with him, not to bed with him." She grinned. "Although from what I've heard, you wouldn't pale by comparison." John laughed. "Would it compromise you?" She wouldn't jeopardize her brother's career.

Connor smiled. "Depends on how you compared. I just remembered he was a SEAL too. Maybe that's how they know each other."

Carrie grinned. "And SEALs do their best work at night."

Her brother just shook his head. "Why the interest?"

"I don't know. Geoff just seems very protective of him and I was curious."

"He's very protective of you too. He seems to be that way about friends."

Carrie saw it. "What, John?"

"Not to tell tales out of school, but Levy lost his wife and only child a few years ago."

"Oh, God, how?"

"No one really talks about it. Just that they were killed in an auto accident while on vacation in Europe or somewhere. He doesn't talk about it at all and no one asks. That may be why Geoff is protective of him."

"So let's not say anything about this, okay?" She'd decide later. They heard a knock on the door. "Yes?"

Geoff came in with a big smile on his face. "Hi."

"He was in Peds," Carrie confirmed for her brother.

"And they're so goddamn cute," Geoff said.

"And you've arranged for each to get a surprise in the morning," John told him.

"Caught me." He finally recognized the situation. "And what in hell do you think you're doing?" he accused.

"Leaving. And leave me alone about it."

"Wanna ride?"

Geoff went to Carrie's house for one last check and to say goodbye to the kids. Carrie's bedroom door was open so he tapped lightly on the frame. Carrie and Molly were snuggled in bed and Steve was sitting in a chair holding his mother's hand. He turned to Geoff. "Come on in," he whispered.

"Everything okay?" he whispered as he squatted to Steve's level.

"Why is it girls can sleep with their mothers or fathers and boys can't?"

"I think it's more a function of age rather than gender." He grinned. "At least until you hit puberty."

"Not true, Geoff. Five-year-old boys are teased and called sissies for crawling into bed with their moms. Girls aren't. At least not until they're ten."

"Were you?"

"I never told anyone because I saw what happened to another kid."

Geoff smiled. "And you're fine."

"And how about you?"

"I think I'm fine."

"You never slept with your parents did you?"

He was uncomfortable but wouldn't lie. "Not that I can remember. And probably not at all."

Steve tried to lighten it with a grin. "You can't remember who you slept with last weekend."

Geoff smiled, grateful, and in camaraderie. "I know it wasn't my mother." He slapped Steve on the back and stood. "Call if you need anything."

"Thanks for everything, Geoff."

"My pleasure." He looked at Carrie, thought of their joke, and chuckled. Then he left.

Carrie went back to school the following week prepared for the stares, the behind-the-back whispers, and the sudden cessation of conversation when she entered a room. But God, the pity. That she couldn't tolerate. She had already formulated a plan and the pity only helped bring it to fruition. Unbeknownst to Geoff, so did he.

Looking over her students in one of her Lit classes, Carrie finally stopped teaching and sat on her desk, something she rarely, if ever, did. "All right, let's have it." She got blank stares and lowered heads. She picked on individual students until one girl finally said, "We don't know how to act around you, Professor."

"Thank you, Maria." Carrie looked over her twenty students. "You all feel sorry for me. Right?" Some mumbled, others nodded. "No wonder rape victims crawl into a hole or go into depression. That, 'Oh-poor-you-syndrome' turns into the, 'Yeah, poor-me syndrome.' It feeds on itself." It was harsh and she knew it would offend some.

"That's not fair, Professor Courtney. We're concerned," Maria countered.

"And I appreciate your _concern_. Please don't misunderstand me. But would you have been 'concerned'" she gestured quotes, "if I had only been beaten? No. You women are appalled and you men are ashamed."

"How does pissed sound, Professor?" came a male voice from the back.

"Crude and vulgar," Carrie answered. She continued, "I know you've heard time and time again that rape is not a sexual crime." She smiled anticipating the thoughts. "I know, it has a helluva way of manifesting itself." They warmed to her and some politely smiled. A few even chuckled.

"I bet Professor Trevor doesn't think that way." It was the same male voice.

"Yes, he does." Carrie had a private thought and laughed aloud. She let them think what they'd been thinking for some time. She just couldn't bring herself to tell them that when she had gotten out of the hospital, Geoff bought her seven pairs of Calvins - one for each day. "Nothing comes between me and my Calvins," the ad said. "I'm not going to give you a medieval lecture on sex," she continued. "You had enough of that at home. I got it from the nuns," She said it with such expression and a dramatic rolling of the eyes that they laughed more at her theatrics than the comment itself. "But at home I also received a healthy attitude towards sex. I know it's hard on you. And I'm sorry. I wish you could understand how I, and I think many women -and men - feel. I just thank God they didn't kill me." She decided that was enough. "Any questions?"

"Are you sure this just isn't shock and you won't crash?" Kay wasn't as embarrassed.

"I'm sure," Carrie nodded. "And if I crash, it won't be the rape, just the God awful fear."

"And you can handle that?"

"I think so. I'll let you know."

"And sex? Can you handle that?" Maria again.

She smiled, "That I won't let you know." They laughed as the bell rang for the end of class. Carrie stood. "See you all Wednesday."

No one moved. "Do you want the bastards caught?" A male voice.

"Yes, Dean. To get them off the streets."

"With our judicial system?"

"That's another class." Carrie didn't have much faith in the system either.

"Come on, Professor Courtney," the first male voice said. "That's a cop out. Pardon me, but you can't tell me you wouldn't like to see them hung by their cojones." It was Wayne Redman. He passed Trevor's class after all and must have passed Spanish as well.

"Right now, Wayne, yes I would. But another part of the anatomy would suit me just as well. But it's over and there's no point in dwelling on retribution."

"I disagree with you, Professor." The voice came from the door and Carrie knew it well. He was leaning against the casing with his arms crossed in a relaxed position. Carrie said nothing at first and the students whispered back and forth. "That's your privilege," Carrie finally said to him.

"My right," he corrected.

"And it's yours to seek revenge." Wayne again. No wonder Trevor passed him.

"And mine alone," Carrie said emphatically. "And I can choose the course of that revenge." That was for Geoff.

"By going down to the police station and checking mug shots, for crissake?" Dean this time.

"What would you do if you found them?" Maria asked in Carrie's defense.

"Probably get in a few good kicks and run off to confession." They all laughed, even Geoff. The five-minute bell rang. "If anyone needs an excuse for your next class, Professor Trevor will be happy to provide one for you." They laughed knowing that Trevor would never submit to policy. He entered the room as the students filed out. He sat on Carrie's desk swinging his legs as Wayne approached her.

"I admire you, Professor. But I agree with Professor Trevor."

"Most men do, Wayne." After Wayne left, Carrie turned on Geoff. "Why'd you do that?"

"You started to grow wings and a halo. You didn't believe your shit anymore than they did."

"But I did, Geoff. More than you realize."

He put his hands on her shoulders and bent his head to hers. "I know you, Carrie Courtney. You're a fighter."

"Not your kind."

"But those pricks are." She looked at him. He knew something. He didn't get the look he'd actually hoped for. One that said, 'You know who did it? Let's get 'em.' Rather it said, 'You know who did it. Oh God, what are you going to do now?' And he was angry as well as disappointed. He removed his arms with a sigh and a, "Shit," and turned to leave the classroom.

"Geoff?" Her voice was low and contrite. He turned. "They threatened me." She did look scared, but it wasn't because of a threat.

"It's bullshit, Phil," he told his friend. "There was no threat. They left her for dead."

"They might have still left a threat, Geoffrey," he answered lamely and shook his head. "Okay, so you think she knew them. Why cover for them then if not for a threat?"

"It has to be Steve. Her husband, Steve," he clarified.

"But you said her brother told you she quit."

Geoff nodded. "But she also survived. They didn't expect that so aren't finished with her."

"In which case she's probably taken measures."

"Good," he said as if washing his hands of it. "If she wants to play big shit on campus, let her hang herself."

"And hope you're there to cut her down."

"I don't know anymore, Phil. She's pissing me off."

"She has a hell of an image to uphold. Her husband was a traitor."

"Bullshit."

"We know it's bullshit. She knows it's bullshit. Even her kids know. But I know how Donna would feel if she and the kids had to defend me every goddamn day of the year."

"And Donna would let me help her."

"Not if the kids were in danger and she was threatened, she wouldn't."

"She wouldn't?" Geoff was surprised and a little hurt.

"As much as you love kids, and our kids, you're not a mother. And eventually she would go to you for help." Phil hadn't had children while he worked with the Agency. He hadn't wanted to take the chance of their growing up without a father. But in the three years he was out of the spy business, he'd had as many kids. And Donna, little as she was, was pregnant again. Phil had just found out that day and hadn't yet told Geoff.

"So you're telling me to back off."

"Actively perhaps. I know you and your capabilities. I would trust you."

"She doesn't. Carrie, I mean. Not Donna."

"I'm not sure that's it. She trusts you or wouldn't have let you take care of her kids."

"She says she's not my kind of fighter."

Phil smiled. "As I said, she doesn't know your talents. Maybe she thinks you'd go in guns blazing and fuck it up."

"She knows me better than that for crissake."

"She knows you're an assassin."

"Was," Trevor corrected.

"To her that may be semantics. Something entirely different. You're an eye for an eye type of man."

"Only way."

"Maybe not to Carrie. You only have you to think about."

"I don't give a shit what people think of me."

"Carrie doesn't have that luxury."

Geoff sighed. "Okay, okay. I don't have enough to go on anyway. So let's get back to the forensics. What about the nun costume?"

"Can't find it."

Alert. "What? Where is it?" Phil shrugged. "Who fucked that up?" Or did they?

"They thought it was with all the other evidence, but when they went to get it to do testing, it was gone. They'd logged it in and it wasn't signed out."

"Jesus. So there's nothing with any possible trace."

"Right. Pictures of Carrie didn't show that many physical signs."

"Did you see them?"

He nodded and Geoff saw the anger. "And I have copies if you insist on seeing them." It was obvious that Phil didn't want Trevor to see them. He was sure they would upset Trevor and fuel his anger.

"I trust you, Phil." Geoff said plaintively. Phil sighed slightly, relieved. "And the medical reports?"

"Just cut and dried clinical shit."

Trevor cocked a brow. "Don't want me to see those either?"

"Not at all." He reached in his briefcase. "They just won't tell you much. Remember, Carrie stopped any further exams." Trevor was suspicious as he watched Phil lay the folder on the table. Trevor read them and Phil saw very little change of expression. "You're one hardass, Trevor," he said when Geoff finished.

"I already know most of this." As if that explained it. "But where's Murphy's report?"

"It's not there."

"No shit. Was that a fuck up too?"

"All right goddammit. I don't know Carrie one tenth as well as you do and I cried for half an hour."

"So I'll cry for five hours," said the mathematician. "Where is it, Phil?"

"I didn't copy it."

"I'll get it."

"Fine. But not from me."

Geoff knew he meant it. "And you still think I should stay out of it?"

"I said actively. And seeing that report might make you do something stupid." Geoff started to speak but Phil raised his hand. "And if it didn't, I don't want to know you."

Geoff was quiet for a moment, sitting on the couch with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. He finally sighed and let his hand fall to his knees. "My gut tells me this is wrong," he said without looking up.

"It may be, Geoffrey," Phil answered sympathetically. "But she seems to be in control and I think you can only take a passive role for now."

Trevor looked at his friend. "I don't mind passive, Phil, when I know why." He slapped his knees in final judgment. "Okay. She seems okay. I'll be a good goddamn boy and mind my own fucking business."

Phil stood. "For now."

"For now." He walked his friend to the door. "Any other news?"

"Donna's pregnant."

"That's not news, it's perpetual." He smiled and shook hands. "Congrats to you both."

"We want to name it Geoffrey - if it's a boy, of course."

"Don't do that to the poor kid."

"We're running out of names."

"You just want him set for life."

"We thought of that."
Chapter Thirteen

There is no ghost so difficult to lay

As the ghost of an injury.

Alexander Smith

Geoff was a 'goddamn good boy' much against his better judgment. Collier seemed to back off, which Trevor thought was consistent since Geoff was not actively pursuing the attack. Carrie and Geoff traded dates. "If you go to A with me, I'll go to B with you." Carrie had asked Geoff more than he did her but he pretended not to count. It just happened to be the holidays and they had more parties, balls and functions to attend. Geoff even attended a Catholic charity ball with her but said, "You owe me big time for this one." She repaid that by accompanying him to one of the November wine tasting parties. He knew she was using him because, like her, he was no threat. And she was delaying her re-entrance into the dating world.

She should have delayed it even longer, or taken the help that was offered her. A week before Christmas, Carrie knocked on her brother's door. No answer. She let herself in his apartment and finding he wasn't home, crawled into his shower, having only discarded half her clothes. She sat on the stall floor and let the water soothe her. She was controlled but knew she would break if a comforting soul were within reach. It's why she went to her brother - to talk. She'd thought about calling Geoff but dismissed it because of guilt. She felt she had 'used' him enough. He didn't owe her anything. Her brother was her brother. He would talk to her. He would listen to her. But he wasn't there and Carrie had to hold her release until he was there.

She got out of the shower, dressed in one of John's shirts that hung nearly to the ground, and went to his bar. "This will keep me cool until he gets home." She found a bottle of Amaretto that was nearly full. Perfect. She was just beginning to nod off when John came in the door. "Carrie?" She jerked her head to face him and he saw the nearly empty bottle. "Jesus, are you drunk?"

"Just trying to deaden my nerves." He went to the couch and sat next to her. She tried to focus on his face but had to blink a couple of times to do it. "You look tired."

"I'm fine," he lied. "Are you okay, Care Bear? What are you doing here?"

"Can't I come to see my little brother when I want?"

"You _are_ drunk."

"No I'm not."

John picked up the bottle. "This was full."

"Nearly full," she corrected. "Now it's nearly empty and _I'm_ full. But I'm not drunk." But she was buzzed. "You should have seen what I had to drink before I got here. Why can't I get drunk, Johnny? I'm small, don't drink much. Why don't two or three drinks knock me off my feet? You're a doctor. Tell me."

"It's a family trait." None of them had much trouble holding their liquor. "Are you trying to get drunk?"

"Not really, no."

"Anything happen tonight?"

"I had a real date tonight. Let Geoff off the hook. Poor guy needed a real date himself. I was getting death threats from all the sexually starved females." John chuckled. "Are any of your girlfriends gonna roll my house too?"

"I was wondering why the store was out of TP."

Carrie laughed. "Men!" She pat his hand. "Are you a good lover, Johnny?"

His eyes widened. This was somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course they'd talked about sex, even specific people. But not specific techniques. So he treated the question generally. "I don't know how good I am, but I try to be considerate."

"That qualifies as good."

"Then why don't I have second dates?"

It was a joke, but she didn't take it as one. "Maybe because you're rushing things on the first date." She almost yelled and John knit his brows and looked at her with concern. Carrie stood. "That's what it is, John. Too soon." It was a revelation, an answer. "Has it ever been too soon for you? No, probably not." She sat back down. "Tell me, John, what do you do if a girl wants sex and you don't. Or doesn't that ever happen?"

"Sometimes. And I don't."

"Why? Too soon?"

"Maybe."

"For whom?"

"If I don't want it, usually me."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "A lot of reasons. Maybe I want to get to know her first."

"If she wants it?"

"It might depend why she wanted it. Where are we going with this?" He lightly touched her arm. "What happened tonight, honey? The sonovabitch pressure you?" Typical question from a man.

Carrie ignored it. "Come on, John. Generally speaking and I mean generally, if a girl offers herself, the guy rarely declines right?"

"Maybe if he doesn't like her." Christ!

"Then why go out with her?"

"Okay," he sighed. "Men are shits. We have no scruples. Just wanna get laid."

She smiled. "You said that because you think that's what I wanted to hear."

"I wish to Christ I knew what you wanted to say."

"So you could temper your responses?" She gently brushed a lock of black hair off his face. He's so pretty, she thought.

"No. So I could listen." Carrie lowered her head. "You still haven't talked about it have you?" No answer. "What about Ken?" A lifelong friend and psychiatrist. Carrie shook her head then looked at her brother and the light dawned. "You came to talk to me. Good." He squeezed her hands. "Let me help."

"It's gone now. Probably, I'll admit, thanks to the alcohol. It took the edge off."

"That's not the solution."

Carrie bristled at that freshman advice, as he'd wanted. "Have you ever been raped, Johnny?"

"No."

"Then don't preach to me about solutions. I remember a very upset young man when his girlfriend decided his devotion to his career was greater than it was to her and she promptly left." John lowered his head. He could take this. It was some time ago. "What did you do, John?"

"I still talked about it," he offered lamely.

Carrie stood, angry. "Well, I'm happy for you. You're a better man than I, Gunga Din." She stalked off, albeit unsteadily, to get her coat.

John followed. "Don't go, Carrie. You can't drive."

"I can do any goddamn thing I want."

"If you think that, and are saying 'goddamn', you're being goddamn selfish and irresponsible."

"I'm entitled."

"Not at someone's else expense." He glanced at her attire. "And not half naked."

He was right and she didn't like it. "You piss me off."

He bit back a smile. "Stay here tonight." He didn't offer to take her home because he didn't want her alone. She was ready to explode and he knew she'd need someone.

"You piss me off," she repeated and left for his guest room.

"Shit," he said with a sigh and collapsed to the couch. He'd give her a few minutes to calm and then would approach with more caution this time. He wanted a drink himself, but he was the physician on duty that night so couldn't risk it. "Shit," he said again. He slapped his legs and rose.

John found his sister with her head buried in the pillow, crying almost uncontrollably. "Oh God." He raced to the bed and sat beside her. "I'm sorry, Care Bear." He stroked her back trying to offer comfort but feeling helpless. "I love you, sweetheart. Let me help."

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't."

"Can I hold you?"

"I can't," she sobbed again then gasped for air. "I can't breathe."

John became concerned. Her trachea. "Let me look at you, Carrie."

"No." Breath. "No."

The doctor decided that she was hyperventilating. "You need to calm down, honey. Slow down your breathing."

"I can't. I can't." Her fingers were beginning to claw.

John ran to the kitchen and grabbed a paper bag. He placed the bag on her face, covering her nose. "Breathe, in and out," he coached. "In and out. Take that air back into your lungs." After a bit, she calmed and the clawing lessened. Carrie looked at her hands. "What happened?" She was still angry but not out of breath.

"Carpopedal spasms. You took your hyperventilating to the next stage. You'll be okay. Just relax. Let me give you something safe to help you sleep."

"With all that liquor, I should be comatose."

"You don't get a good heavy sleep when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she insisted.

"No, but you've had enough to disturb your natural sleep pattern. And you need sleep, honey."

"Okay, but not a shot. I'm sick of needles." John accommodated and Carrie drank the water, opened her mouth and wiggled her tongue to prove she had swallowed the safe medication.

"Can I sit with you 'til you fall asleep?" He didn't question her, just stroked her head and talked of childhood memories, little anecdotes that made her relax and even chuckle. The last thing she said before she dozed off was, "Great bedside manner, doc."

"But not good enough for my own goddamn sister," he whispered to himself as he left the room. In the living room, John built a fire for when Carrie woke. She loved the smell of a fire in a fireplace.

She had been asleep for fifteen minutes when the phone rang. John picked up on the first ring so as not to wake her, even though he had unplugged the phone in her room. "Yes?"

"Hi, boss," his resident said. "We have a newborn bowel obstruction due in half an hour."

After getting all the details, John said, "I'll be there in an hour. Stabilize him, get an OR, and call me if anything changes before then." He hung up the phone with another, "Shit."

Carrie was still asleep and John shut the door. He didn't want to leave her alone and racked his brain for a baby sitter. His brother, David, was the first choice, but he was not due back from England for another two days. He knew his parents were with Carrie's kids in Newport. Carrie was to join them after her last class Tuesday to go on a quick skiing trip up to Vermont before Christmas. Ken? No. The psychiatrist had gone to see Carrie but she refused to talk to him. She would do the same now. He rifled through his business cards then picked up the phone. "God, he'll kill me." It was answered on the third ring, but by a message. John looked at the card again and saw the emergency number. He dialed again, hung up, and waited. He picked it up on the first ring. "Yes?"

"Hi, John. Anything wrong?"

Trevor only had the number, not the name. How many times has he called me?, John wondered, yet knew this number. I'm impressed. "Carrie's here."

"And you don't want her to know you're calling me." Fact.

"I hope she's asleep."

"What happened?"

"Not sure. She had a date tonight."

"I know." John heard the smile. "A real date, she called it." Then typically, "Oh Jesus, John..."

"She's okay. At least physically. She freaked and I had to give her something. I need help. I have to operate and can't stay here."

"No problem. I'm ten minutes from you."

Geoff was at John's door in eight minutes. They shook hands. "Still asleep?" Trevor asked.

"Lightly. I apologize for interrupting your real date." At least it wasn't formal, John noted by Geoff's casual wear.

Geoff smiled. "It's okay." No explanation. "Where is she?"

"Bedroom. Sleeping it off, I hope."

Geoff's eyes widened. "Drunk? Carrie?" He chuckled. "And a drug? Jesus, I'll pay to see this." He started for the room.

"Don't let her hear you."

"She won't." And Connor believed it. He also believed Trevor wanted to check for himself. He came back out. "I wonder if she has hangovers."

John smiled. "Don't think so, but I don't know. She didn't act drunk, just buzzed. But she'd had enough to knock a 400-pound Sumo wrestler on his ass. Drink?" he offered.

Geoff knew John couldn't drink, so declined himself. "She say anything?" He sat and John took the chair opposite. He told Geoff, almost verbatim, everything his sister had said and done. "Too soon?"

"Yes. I guess he tried to rush her." Geoff shook his head. "No? You know the guy?"

"Yes, but aside from that, think about it. If you or I had a date with someone who'd been raped six weeks ago, would we rush it?" He added, "And he knew." It had been in the papers for a week following. That had been Carrie's doing. Publicity. Protection.

"What are you saying," her brother asked. "That Carrie tried to rush it?" Trevor nodded and John considered it. "Makes sense. She's in such a goddamn hurry to heal all the time." He thought more, reviewing the conversation he had had with her. "Now that I think about it, it makes more and more sense after what she kept asking me. The guy was understandably reticent and she probably feels like a worthless piece o' shit." He stood, angry with himself. "Christ. Big help I was."

"Carrie has a fairly good sense of self. I doubt that's it. We still don't know what happened. Go on. I'll stay here 'til she wakes up or you come back."

"Okay, thanks." He stood. "She may get sick from the drug. She doesn't tolerate much. I have some Compozine if she needs it." Geoff nodded. "I owe you one." John smiled. "I'll get you another real date."

Geoff returned the smile. "You're on."

After John left, Geoff went back to the bedroom and sat to watch his friend. Her breathing told him that she was not deep and had been crying. He stroked the hair off her face and saw the strain. "Goddammit." He left, determined. "Stu? I need a favor," he said into the phone.

"Name it," his best friend said.

"Carrie's records from Doctors. Actually only a report from a Julie Murphy. The original, if possible."

"When do you need it?"

"Before she wakes up." He told him what had happened.

"If anybody can handle it, you can. Want me to take a look at her?"

"She probably wouldn't let you. But I do want you two to meet."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You keep saying that," Stu teased. "You going to tell John?"

"Probably not, which is one reason I want the original."

"How do you know he hasn't looked at it?"

"I think he would have said something. I'll know more after I read it."

"Well maybe he, like you," Stu emphasized, "agreed to leave it alone."

"You don't trust this whole thing do you?"

"Nope. So maybe you _should_ introduce us."

"And pit the two real friends I have against each other? No way. I want you two to like each other, get married and have twenty babies I can spoil." He heard Stu chuckle. "So it'll be done on neutral territory."

Levy let it go for now, the same as Carrie had. "All right. Where are you? I'll send it by courier."

Geoff received the report half an hour later and read it in less than a minute. It was a one-page impression of what had happened to Carrie based on her injuries and terse comments. The sad part was that the report was understated. There were questions in Julie Murphy's report that Geoff could answer. He could also answer who was responsible and Carrie could not convince him otherwise. Sadistic fucker. He swiped the tears from his face and threw the report in the fire. No more report from Julie Murphy. He'd have the police file purged as well, in case Carrie's brother David went that route.

Now, what to do with Carrie. Would she see Lo as Trevor had once done? He doubted it. And it would take too much time away from her kids. He'd evaluate her, then decide if he needed to convince her to see him. At least it wasn't over a sustained period of time and Carrie's good sense of self might hold her together. But she pushed the sex for some reason. Maybe it was, as her brother had said, her 'goddamn hurry to heal. _' "Maybe I should go back," Geoff mused._

"And let him know how close you two really are?" Ffoeg asked.

"He already called her my girlfriend."

"But he doesn't know how committed you are to the kids." Even Ffoeg wouldn't say 'love'.

"And he can't know or he'll just kill them."

"I'm not sure. As I said, he has his own agenda with her."

"So I'm irrelevant."

"Never that. Just not as relevant as she is right now."

"Christ, what has she done?"

Carrie stirred ten minutes later and he knew she would wake. How would she receive him and how could he convince her to talk? She opened her eyes. "What are you doing here?

"Hello to you, too."

"Hi." At least she smiled.

"Need a wastebasket?"

"No, thank you. Where's John?"

"Surgery."

Carrie sighed. "Good. I'm glad he's not here." She took another deep breath. "I really screwed up this time."

"How?" he asked gently.

"I practically attacked the poor guy. And when he finally did just touch me, I panicked and scared him to death. Poor bastard."

Geoff smiled, envisioning the scene. "Is that why you picked him? His rep?"

"You know who it is?"

"Mark Katz. New History professor. You do like the smart ones."

"So do you."

"Of course." He chuckled. "Good enough for him."

"Don't like him?"

"Not it at all." Don't trust him, he didn't say. "Hardly know him. " It was just too convenient for one history professor to take his sabbatical and this one show up a week later. But Trevor had almost convinced himself he was too paranoid until Carrie went out with him. But she picked him, so he downgraded his paranoia to just plain suspicion.

"You interviewed him and you usually get more in five minutes than a good personnel director can get in an hour."

"And I approved him. And what I've seen, I like. I'm not purging him because of his rep. Christ, that's the pot calling the kettle black. I hope he takes some of the heat from me. I just question why he'd ask you out right now." Make sure.

Carrie didn't take offense. "He wouldn't have, I'm sure." Trevor wasn't. "And he sure as hell didn't want to go to bed with me."

Geoff smiled. "Maybe he's not so smart after all."

Carrie was touched and tears welled up in her eyes. "You always know the right thing to say."

"Ha! Bullshit. I'm always chewing on a toe."

She grinned knowingly. "Bullshit."

He hooted. "You're still a little popped" He grinned. "That's why I came over, you know. To see that. Christ, I should have sold tickets. I'd have recouped those two huge you cost me."

"Don't give me that. You'll sell it at a profit of two huge."

"In eighteen months, in fact. Christ, the guy was only in it for his own self-aggrandizement. Royally fucked his own employees."

She sat up in the bed and Geoff helped with the pillows. "And I have a deal for you that will recoup the two _I_ cost you."

He held up his hand. "Wait 'til you're sober." He didn't want to talk business and distract her. "John gave me some Compozine if you need it." She shook her head and he saw it. "Where is it?" He held out his hand.

She demurred and took the pill from her shirt pocket and handed it to him. "Sedatives make me sick with or without Compozine." She sighed. "I'm sorry John called you."

"I won by default."

"And you still came." He shrugged, uncomfortable. And as usual, she saved him. "Or did you?"

He gaped. "You _are_ popped."

"Not really," she lamented and Geoff chuckled and her frustration of not being drunk. She looked up at him with a grin. "I know who your date was too," she further teased.

"Carrie Courtney!"

"How long did it take for you?" she asked seriously.

He picked up on it immediately. "My case was entirely different."

"And probably worse because you're more sexually stable, mature, confident, and experienced than I. Not to mention trained for abuse."

He knew he had to answer. "Which aided in my recovery. It was a very intense and concentrated treatment." Now! "And I'll be happy to set you up with it."

"Lo?"

Geoff nodded. "He's really very knowledgeable."

"Which means you are too."

"A bit," he had to admit, not wanting to rebuke her. "But what you might not want to tell me you can tell him. He'd never betray the confidence. Even to Stu or me."

"Could he do it tonight?"

"I doubt it," he answered honestly. "I think he's in China until Wednesday."

"Can't do it. Have to be in Newport on Tuesday. And that's because I have classes and board meetings with the Courtney Foundation and Children's Hospital. Then..."

He took her hand. "Are you avoiding or really that busy?"

"Just busy, I swear. I want to get better, Geoff. Honestly."

"At least you recognized that it was too soon."

"Or too late. I waited too long didn't I?"

"Not necessarily." But in this case, he thought so. "I just think you should have talked to someone," he temporized.

"I won't totally disagree. But I'm not sure that's it. I talked to myself. You have Ffoeg. I have Self."

"Self?"

"I couldn't think of a name when I was a kid so when I wanted an answer, I'd just say, 'Self?'"

Geoff smiled. "She a pain in the ass?"

"Id and superego."

He chuckled. "Who's the Id?"

She smiled at the joke, but changed. "Tonight I think I was," she said sadly. "Oh God, Geoff, what's wrong with me?"

He stroked her face, gently brushing her hair over her ear. Blue eyes met blue eyes. "Have you figured out why you panicked? And maybe we'd better define panic."

"Without getting too specific, of course," she tried the tease but her heart wasn't in it.

"Whatever you want."

"You're going to help me?"

"I'll do everything I can."

"He didn't even get an erection."

"Fool," he blurted, then, "I'm sorry."

"No, be honest, please."

"Okay. Fool."

"Then so are you."

"You haven't tried to jump my bones."

Carrie smiled, thankful for the honesty. "What would you do?"

"I wouldn't be a fool."

She burst out laughing. "You're a godsend, Geoff Trevor."

"The two don't compute." He pat her hand not to go astray. "So he didn't get hard."

She knew he wanted to ask so said it for him. "Yes, I was...ready. I'd been planning it all day." He nodded for her to continue. "But he was so...reticent. I lost it and got embarrassed, then angry. Then," she sighed. "I don't' know. He tried to calm me and must have done something; touched me in the wrong place or the wrong way, and it all came flooding back. I'd pushed it so far back, suppressed it to the point I saw it as having happened to someone else that it scared the hell out of me when I realized that it had happened to me."

"What did Mark do?"

"Tried talking to me."

"Specifically," he wanted to know. This might answer some of his own questions.

"He encouraged me to talk about it. Said it's sometimes easier to talk to someone you don't know as well for a lot of reasons."

"True." But in her case, very unlikely. Did Katz know that or was he pressing? And for whom? "He has a point."

"But not in my case. I'm too private."

"And maybe he isn't the right person."

"And Lo is?"

That wasn't where he wanted to go with it, but wouldn't discourage her. "I think he's remarkable."

"He cured you."

He smiled and held out his hands in an open gesture. "Remarkable."

"But were you ready to be cured?"

"I didn't think so. I went in kicking and screaming."

"But you went."

"Not really," he said through a chuckle. "Stu hammer locked me and carried me in, almost literally. He knew I needed it." That was the first time, he didn't say.

"Sounds like a good friend."

"The best."

"Why don't you talk about him more often?"

"So he can keep his distance from me." Carrie made a face. "He's a good person, up for Chairman, and doesn't need me tainting him." She shook her head again. "I want to keep him safe from any fallout about me. You know how you and your friends were shunned because of the shit about Steve."

"My friends did the shunning."

"Some friends."

"Some of 'em. And I wouldn't shun you."

He knew where she was going. "And if Stu were a good friend, neither would he. And he wouldn't. Which is why I won't put him in the position. And with you, I just play the chauvinist card. You're a female and can't be that good a friend. I just use you for sex."

She laughed. "If only they knew you wouldn't take me to bed on a bet."

Geoff pursed his lips and raised his eyes. "Depends on the odds."

Carrie chuckled. "Were you afraid?"

"Not really. I was ready and she knew it." He laughed. "Christ, was I ready."

"Standing at attention?"

"Biggest and best salute I ever made." He wanted to encourage her to see Lo.

"If he's that good, what will waiting another few weeks hurt?"

"Maybe nothing. But as I said, my situation was very different."

"How?"

"I didn't want sex. I wasn't afraid of it. I was disgusted with it. I didn't think it could ever be pleasurable again."

"Must have been horrible for you."

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Wasn't pleasurable."

"And as private as you are, you actually talked to somebody about it?"

He couldn't lie. "As much as I could." She cocked her head. "It was classified. I couldn't and wouldn't endanger someone else. But yes, I gave specifics. And that was more for Lo to get an evaluation of the kind of people they were. The sex was a manifestation." He sighed. "No, that's not true. It was strictly a sexual attack. A power thing, to be sure, but not a result of a mugging, violent crime per se. No fear for my life, nothing like that. And I didn't value my life so they knew that was no threat. Just your not-so-garden variety sadistic sex."

Carrie winced. "But why, for godsake?"

"Because they were sadistic bastards." He couldn't tell her everything.

She let it go because she was forming a thought she didn't know how to handle. And frankly didn't want to handle it right now. "Mine were too."

Good. "In what way?" he asked gently.

"In my case, I think the sex, and I can't even call it that, was a by-product _because_ they were sadistic bastards. Their main purpose was to scare me. It _was_ a power thing with them. Like most rapes."

"But it wasn't like most rapes." A statement. Now we're getting somewhere.

"Not from what I've read, no." She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "They scared me. Oh God, they scared me. I thought I was going to die," she choked out.

Trevor tried to push the lump in his throat down with a swallow. "I'm so sorry, honey."

She laid her head in her hand and talked through sobs. "And tonight I just wanted to... to get over at least one hurdle." He gently caressed her head with light strokes. "I don't know if I'll ever get over the fear, but I could tackle everything else."

"And you will." He knew it wasn't the fear of death, but the fear of having her children grow up without her. Did he need to know more? Was it necessary since he already knew who was responsible? If he told her that he'd talk to Collier would that alleviate her fear? No. She might close up. And Collier wouldn't stop. Trevor would have to find out why before he took any definitive action. He decided he'd learned enough from Carrie, against Ffoeg's objections. His alter ego felt there was something else Trevor needed to know. Later, Geoff said to him. To Carrie, he said, "Tell me what I can do."

Carrie chuckled through her tears. "Take that bet."

Oh God! He hadn't expected that! But, he handled it well. He lifted her chin. "If that's what you want." And if I have my way, I won't have to. But Christ, I've been through it enough times and know her well enough to know what approach to take with her - and help her.

Her mouth fell. Was it genuine or did he think she'd retreat? She studied him and he let her. "My God, you would." He nodded. I must really need it, she thought, or he'd never make the offer. And I must also be ready to accept it or he'd not offer either. "But would I?"

He smiled. "I admit, you must be desperate."

"Stop it. You're an expert and operate from experience."

"And I don't want anyone else to fuck it up. So if you don't want Lo, you get the runner up." He snickered to lighten it. "Actually second runner up. Stu's better than I."

"You really must introduce us." Geoff chuckled. "And really want me to go to Lo."

"I want you to go with a proven track record, but it's your choice." Please!

"Then what?"

She didn't understand. He took her hands in his. "It's a treatment. Like bandaging a wound." Great simile, asshole. "I'm not saying it won't mean anything to either of us, but it's not sex between friends." Yes it is, stupid, at least to her it is. "Unless that's what you want." Jesus, I wish I hadn't agreed to this.

"What I want is control over myself. Not to lose it but to relinquish it."

His smile told her he understood completely. "Okay, take control."

"Seduce you?"

Christ, with those eyes, you could seduce a stone. She is, he thought wryly. He grinned. "I love being seduced." Maybe that'll help. Then a sudden thought. Christ, what if I fail with her? What'll that do to her? Nothing, because it won't happen. He would revert to his old axiom: close your eyes and fantasize. He moved over to the bed, plopped down beside her and grinned. "Ready."

She snickered. "Are you really?"

He gave her the seductive smile she knew he had but had never seen. "You're in control."

In other words, you find out. She got up and walked around in front of him. She stepped between his legs and rest her arms on his shoulders. He responded with his arms loosely draped around her waist. "So many different personalities."

"Like?" They were eye to eye now.

"This CIA tough guy side, invincible SEAL, cool headed businessman side, warm hearted child protector, and this wonderfully seductive lover side."

"You're seducing me, remember?"

"Right. I'm not even in your league."

"Bullshit."

She shook her head and stroked his hair. "It's a side I haven't seen."

"Scare you?"

"Not at all." She grinned. "At least not yet."

He returned the smile. "You've seen three more sides than most."

"I'm honored."

"The fact that you're still here is the honor."

"Let's not forget the modest side."

"Me? Modest? Ha! You should meet Stu." I wish you would about now.

"Sounds as though you'd rather he be here."

Yes! "For your sake, not mine. He's so much more compassionate. And the best lay you'd ever get." He chuckled at the, 'oh yeah?' expression until she was serious again.

"Then you can introduce me to him when I'm not carrying so much baggage."

He could take it from you. "I will."

"I'm stalling, aren't I?"

I hope so. Keep talking. "Take your time. Why not reenact what happened tonight."

"Good idea." She got up and went to the radio to turn on some soft rock. She turned to Trevor and held out her hand. "May I?"

He smiled. "Absolutely," and went to her. They had danced together before, but not like this. This was foreplay, and Geoff let Carrie initiate it. She draped her arms around his neck as best she could considering the height difference. She smiled. "He's a couple of inches shorter than you."

"As you've often said, it's not the size that counts."

She chuckled. "I never got that far."

He laughed aloud. "God, you're a prize." And Jesus, you feel good.

She looked at him in a more serious light. "So are you." He shook his head. Don't say that. I'm a shit. He shook his head again, this time with his eyes closed, wondering why he had so much guilt with her. That was something he usually saved for children and dogs. "Hey," she said and he opened his eyes. "Who's in control here?" He gave her a wan smile. "Okay, would it make you feel better if I said booby prize?"

"No, but it would probably be more accurate."

"Did you lie to me?"

He knit his brows not remembering. "Probably, but what did I say?"

"You told me I had this uncanny, I called it Celtic, instinct for sizing up people."

"Yours is a little pickled right now." Carrie and her damn memory.

"No it's not." Who did what to him as a child? She took his hands and stopped moving. "If I do one thing with you, Geoff Trevor, it's going to make you believe you're worth something."

"I'm worth quite a bit, actually." She frowned. "Okay, I'm your mitzvah for the year." He moved with the music again. "And how in hell'd we get off on this? I'm here..."

"You mean I slept through it again?"

He burst out laughing. "Good segue." So do something with it. You're beginning to feel too good to me. It was as if she read his mind. Carrie stroked his cheek and applied a small urge to the back of his head. He continued the motion with his hand behind her head. They kissed lightly and again Geoff let Carrie take it where she wanted. He kept his hands above her shoulders, around her ears, and through her hair. But his light kisses, gentle lip caresses, stirred something in Carrie she hadn't expected from him, her friend. He was teasing her and doing it well. Her breathing got heavier as much with surprise as stimulation. She opened her lips slightly and again he teased, with his tongue this time, just letting it lie next to hers. She responded with gentle pulls until both were exploring. Geoff's own breathing equaled hers and he carefully matched her desire. He wondered how much further he would have to go, but almost didn't care. They were caught up in the music, dancing, and mutual excitement - and Trevor was more excited than his partner. He backed off only enough to put his head in the hollow of her shoulder then kissed her neck. At this point, they had their arms around each other in a solid embrace. Geoff was still careful not to touch anywhere threatening when what he wanted to do now was pick her up and carry her to the bed. "Mark didn't get this far," she whispered between kisses.

"Want me to back up? Start over?"

She smiled. "Not really," and he chuckled, but still wondered about his reaction. "I kinda like this." She snuggled closer and moved with the music.

"And I like your perfume. Not Chanel." Her usual. "What's this?"

She almost seemed to go limp in his arms. "Grey Flannel," she said as if in a daze.

Still snuggling, he asked, "They have that for women now?"

Carrie pulled back and looked up in both shock and realization. "No."

Geoff closed his eyes and nodded. He understood. "Same cologne."

"Yes!" she said in victory. "That's it! That's why I panicked!" And she kissed him. "Thank you." But she was reluctant to pull away from her own good feeling.

"Shit." He smiled. "Couldn't you have waited to figure that out?"

Carrie smiled comfortably. "Now who's the fool?"

"I'm not," he said and turned away. He wasn't worrying about giving himself away, that was a given. It was just over. And it had never happened before. But for Carrie, "I'm sorry, Carrie."

"For what?"

He turned then sat in the chair. "Getting hard like that."

She knit her brows. "I thought that was a prerequisite."

He smiled. "Prerequisite yes, premature no."

She thought she knew and her eyes widened. "Oh!"

He laughed. "No, no. I didn't come." She winced. "Sorry."

"Then what?"

"Nothing, I guess. I thought I might have made you uncomfortable."

"I think you're the one who's uncomfortable."

"That goes without saying, but my comfort isn't the issue."

"I'm fine, Geoff. Really."

He sat down in the chair and faced her with a smile. "Good."

"And I'm sorry."

"For what," he asked seriously.

"Making you...uncomfortable."

"Don't apologize for that. It was the objective."

"But?" She knew there had to be one. He just shook his head. Not her concern. "Now you are making me uncomfortable."

"Don't be. It has nothing to do with you."

Again, mistakenly, Carrie thought she knew and went over to kneel in front of him. She looked up into his eyes. "I triggered something didn't I?"

He saw where she was heading and took her hands in his. "No, Carrie. No."

She relaxed. "Then what?"

"Nothing, honey. I promise." He knew she didn't believe him and he saw the disappointment in her face. How can I expect her to talk to me if I close up? He sighed. "Okay. It's never happened to me before and I'm just curious."

"What hasn't?"

"Getting hard like that," he repeated.

"Since I know you're not a virgin, the operative phrase must be, 'like that'." He smiled and nodded. "And the second part of that statement?"

"I usually control my responses."

"You don't just let it happen?"

"That's exactly what I do. _Let_ it happen."

"You mean, 'allow' it to happen. Ah, the control freak."

"Exactly."

"God, how boring." He burst out laughing and Carrie gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just meant that it sounded so...so..passionless. No....no... never mind." She was starting to feel sorry for him and didn't want to do that. Instead she smacked his thighs and stood. "If it makes you feel any better, you, of course, had _no_ effect on me," she teased.

He smiled. "I'm sure that was part of it." But he couldn't dismiss it as easily as she could. And it didn't make him feel better. He was trained to do that and trained _not_ to react spontaneously. Why her? "But God, can you kiss!" he pronounced with a shudder.

"All I was limited to before I got married."

Geoff burst out laughing, glad he was back on easy banter. "Poor schlep."

"Oh God, you don't know."

"O-o-o-h I think I do."

Carrie was having fun with it now. "I must be damn good," she said with a grin.

He laughed again. "Goddamn good."

She sat back down and suddenly became serious. "So why not Mark?"

Trevor was wondering the same thing. "He's probably a better control freak than I am."

"No." She sighed. "I was using him and he knew it."

"Possible." He knew that thought could be extended but didn't do it.

Carrie, however, did. "I was using you, too," she posed.

"I _let_ you use me." She shrugged a maybe. "Maybe you came on too strong, something definitely out of character for you." Pensive, she nodded. "Fuck it. It's over."

She looked up, hopeful. "So I'm cured?"

Not by a long shot. You just don't know what to cure in this case. "Of that part of it, I think." She looked so disappointed that he thought she would burst out crying, something else of hers he couldn't handle well. "Carrie?"

She didn't say anything for a long moment, then exploded with a "Shit!" Geoff closed his mouth and bit his bottom lip not daring to say anything. This might be it. Finally Carrie looked over at him. "We're friends, right?"

"Keeps me going," he answered with a soft smile.

"You'll tell me the truth?"

Oh shit. "I'll let you know if I can't."

She shook her head. "Nothing like that. Just an opinion." He nodded once. "Do I need to do this? Tell this thing?"

An unequivocal, "Yes." And he was right. Immediately, she began to shake. He left the chair and knelt in front of her taking her hands in a secure hold. "It's okay," he soothed. "Let it come. Don't try to stop it."

"I need control."

"No. Not now. Not you. Not this. Please, honey. Trust me."

"But you don't know what they did to me."

"I think I do." Should he tell her that he really did know? Not yet.

"You promise it stays in this room?"

Not understanding, he was offended. "Of course."

"I mean that you won't do anything? No reprisals?"

He actually thought about it. That was a tough one. "All right," he agreed and she believed him. He heard John enter the apartment. Oh Christ, not now! He got up to sit on the bed with Carrie and put his arms around her to shield her view. When John opened the door, Geoff waved him off. Wisely, but reluctantly, Carrie's brother shut the door and left for the living room.

It took some coaxing but when Carrie felt safe in the cocoon Geoff provided, she told it all. Although he had heard worse, experienced worse, this affected him more deeply because she was an innocent, not one of his world who had to endure the kinds of atrocities inherent to the world he thought he'd left. She wasn't trained for this. Very few, fifty-two he knew for sure, were trained for this. He was also sure that two of the fifty-two were responsible. And ultimately Diamond. "No. Ultimately me. Christ, what have I done?"

"And what are you doing now, for crissake?" Ffoeg asked. "Stop this shit and get her through it. Save your guilt and self pity for later."

Rebuked, Trevor did just that. He essentially said very little, just filled in some of Carrie's blanks, things she felt too ashamed or embarrassed to mention. That eased her pain and feeling of isolation. Other people too had experienced this, or even worse, she thought. What she didn't realize was that what she didn't tell Geoff would have eased his conscience rather than leaden it. But she had her reasons, one of which, ironically, was to save him pain. Besides, she told herself, it wasn't as disgusting as most of the rest of it. He's done enough for me; I don't need to dredge up old painful memories.

If only she had.

But that was their life story.

They were both drained after an hour. "So now you know." Her voice was barely audible as she curled up in his arms. "Why was it so important that you know?"

"It wasn't as important for me to know as it was for you to tell." And what she did now was equally important. He didn't want her to close up and retreat, stay curled up as she was now.

"You went through this?" her little voice asked. "This treatment?"

"Umhum."

"Must have been difficult for someone who runs to seclusion when asked his height."

"Six-two."

She looked up at him, head cocked. "Does that mean you'll tell me what happened to you?"

"If you want to know."

"Only if it will help you." She smiled. "But you knew I'd say that."

"Doesn't mean I won't tell you."

"Just tell me how to heal." She separated herself from him and sat facing him. He smiled. "What?" she asked.

"You just started." He heard the phone and hoped it was for John.

"Who else would it be for, dumbass?" Ffoeg interceded.

Carrie looked at her open position and smiled. "You're no threat."

"Ah shit," he teased taking the same position. He took her hands. "Now...I want you to tell me the story all over again."

She recoiled and hugged her knees to her chest. "No."

He stayed where he was. "Yes."

John opened the door and took it all in. His sister looked all right, a bit rattled and angry, but a helluva lot better. So he interrupted. He might have anyway considering the caller. After all, he could sit with his sister. "Geoff, it's the President."

Geoff didn't take his eyes of Carrie when he said, "I'll call him back."

"Of the United States." At least John was impressed.

"I said fuck him." He remained calm and focused. "I'll call him back."

"Maybe you'd better take it," Carrie said.

"No." He wasn't going to lose her now. Besides, if it were an emergency, John would have been given a code.

Carrie looked at her brother. "I guess he'll call him back."

John voiced a smile, "Okay," and left.

Carrie kept her eyes on the door longer than necessary. She finally turned and looked at Trevor. "Do I have to?"

Preposition. "Of course you don't _have_ to."

"What then? Do I have to go out and tell John? Grab them off the street?"

Slight grin. "I wouldn't recommend it. The ones on the street, I mean."

"But this is important?"

"I think so." And he was right. When she was finished, he said, "Again." Not only was he trying to help her, he wanted to see if the story changed. Additions, omissions. But with Carrie's memory, it was essentially futile. But it was a photographic memory, not total recall. He did suspect omissions; however, with her progress, it didn't seem crucial. She was again sitting legs akimbo and looking at him as she spoke. He even added some of his own particulars that made her blanche. "No wonder you hated sex," she said.

"Not hate. Never hate. Disgusted with it. But I got over it."

"No kidding."

He frowned and took her hands. "Ah Christ, honey, sex is no big deal."

"Easy for you to say. You're not having a problem with it."

"Anymore. And I don't think you are either. You're just seeing, barring this last experience, how physical it can be."

"And you have yet to see how emotional it can be."

"True." Let's get off that. "And don't start that bullshit of that's what I'm doing by having a shitload of affairs. Trying to find the elusive woman in my life."

"Or that one really did a number on you and you're paying back the entire female population."

"That's rather cruel." Did she actually believe that?

Carrie smiled. "That writer probably had the hots for you and you spurned her."

He laughed. Now he remembered the article Carrie was referring to in some tabloid. "Never met her."

"But I am curious."

"About what?" Getting a little personal here.

"Why do you?"

"I'm single, not looking." He held his arms open. "Why not?"

"No reason, I guess. But so many?"

"If I had a wife, I'd still be doing it as much." Her eyes widened. "With her, I mean."

"And you'd never cheat?"

"No, I don't think so. It's not that I like a lot of women," he hesitated.

"It's that you like a lot of sex."

He shrugged. "A fair amount."

"Then why not stick with one?"

"We're back to emotion and commitment which I can't give."

"So then we're back to why?"

"You know the answer to that."

"I know what you've said."

"It's true."

"Do you even want a long-term?"

"I don't think about it. Can't mourn something I can't have."

"What about when you're seventy?"

"I don't expect to _be_ seventy. I don't expect to make it to next year."

"And didn't expect to make it to this year?"

"Right. And what kind of package is that to take to anyone?"

"And why you didn't have children."

He nodded. "Besides, sadly, there are enough kids on this planet already whom I can help."

"Mine included," she said sadly.

"Bullshit." He took her hands again. "Those kids are so grounded I'm taking lessons from them."

Tears were flowing and she withdrew her hands. "We both know better than that, Geoff."

"I mean it, honey."

"So do I. Christ, Geoff, their father's labeled a traitor as if murdering him weren't enough. Their mother...I don't need to tell you about their mother."

"Then I'll tell you about their mother," he interrupted.

"No." She wiped her tears and found new courage. "I don't want platitudes and accolades. I know I'm doing everything humanly possible, but all this has to have long-term effects."

"Of course it has." Carrie frowned. "You won't get platitudes from me, you know that." He squeezed her hands. "But didn't you say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger?"

"Actually I borrowed that quote from.......

"I don't give a shit who started it. You obviously believed it." She still didn't seem convinced; rather he thought he was doing a piss poor job of convincing her. "Okay then, you just deal with it," he finished.

"Not if I'm dead. They left me to die, Geoff!" She knew the mistake immediately.

"Then let me help with that."

"How? Going on a search and destroy?"

"Why not?"

"First, you'll never find them. Second, it isn't your job. And third, I'm finished."

"First, maybe, maybe not. Second, maybe, maybe not. And third," he gave her a pointed look. "Maybe, maybe not."

"I am, Geoff," she assured him.

"It may not be your choice."

"Then I'll call you. And you promised."

He nodded accepting that. "Okay."

Maybe, maybe not.

"What do you think McInallen wanted?" Carrie asked after a long comfortable silence. He shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to invite you to the Inaugural Ball."

"He already did."

She sat up straighter. "Really? Are you going?"

"Nah."

"Why not?"

He thought about not telling her but changed his mind. Instinct. And it was the right one. "Because Collier wants me to go."

Carrie laughed. "What would bother him even more is if you took me."

Geoff's turn to laugh. "And I wonder why. He initially sent you after me." He didn't say that Collier also wanted him to get information from Carrie. But something had changed and Collier told Trevor to stay away from her.

"He didn't tell you why?"

"No. You?" he asked.

"That I put you in danger."

His brows knit on their own. "What? Danger from what?"

"He didn't say." She added with attitude, "I didn't need to know."

He rolled his eyes. "When did he tell you this?"

"He said it a few years ago, but when nothing happened, I assumed he had changed his mind. He told me again this last month when you were good enough to be my date so many times."

"Hmm." He grinned with the mischief of a child and wiggled his brows. "Then why don't we?"

"You know why."

Trevor nodded. He'd only been joking anyway. "He'd retaliate. I was only kidding. But someday, Carrie Courtney..."

She smiled. "Someday, Geoffrey Trevor..." She handed him the phone. "Make your call. I'll be out with John."

"You don't have to leave." He patted the pillows. "Get some rest." He tucked her in bed as he would her daughter and sat on the edge. He plugged in the phone and punched the numbers. "Hi, Lydia. It's Geoff Trevor." Lydia was the President's trusted secretary. "Fine, thanks. How are Gary and the kids?"

"They're fine, Mr. Trevor, now that it's all over. And thank you for the welcome basket."

"My pleasure. It was for you, not him." Carrie rolled her eyes and Geoff almost choked. He held up the middle finger and she snapped at it.

"Just a moment, please," Lydia said, "I'll connect you."

After a short time, "Geoff?"

"Hi, Tom. Sorry I couldn't take your call." No excuses. And there wouldn't be any over that phone.

"No problem. Are you coming to the Ball?"

"Wish I could, but I have a fund raiser that night." He'd deliberately scheduled one when mention of the date of the Ball was first made. To be safe, he scheduled one for the night before and after, just in case the date for the Ball changed.

"Sorry to hear that. We'll miss you. How about the Vet's dinner?"

"Of course. Are you going to be at that?" Other presidents hadn't.

"If you don't mind. It's your dinner." Trevor was the main fundraiser for it and master of ceremonies. He actually considered not having the man there to detract from the focus of the dinner. But, he decided, the publicity could help. And as he glanced at Carrie, the germ of another idea began to form. "Of course I don't mind. As long as you don't use it for some goddamn political agenda."

"As you well know, my brother-in-law was there, Geoff. My wife's twin brother." Trevor had saved Stan Sutherland's life. "I think you know how I feel about it."

"I know that, Tom, and I apologize. But your spinners will..."

"Be fired if they try to use it. Good enough?" The President sensed Trevor's hesitation and rightly so. "And Ellen would kill me." Ellen was his wife, whom Trevor adored.

Geoff laughed. "Good enough."

"I always knew you liked her better than me."

"Caught me."

"Good. So do I."

"You're too lucky." He would have added, "you horny bastard," but knew whatever 'ears' there were on the phone could spin that to their advantage.

"You're right." The President hesitated. "On both counts."

Trevor laughed and looked at Carrie. She was asleep and he winced, "Oh shit," at his noisy outburst.

"What?"

"Nothing. I forgot to let the dogs out before I left."

"I'm not sure I get the connection, but..."

Geoff chuckled. "Your spinners."

McInallen laughed. "You want to help pick my Cabinet?"

"Yeah, right," Geoff said through a chuckle. Only the two of them knew that McInallen had solicited Trevor's input on the prospects he'd considered.

"Good talking to you, Geoff."

"You, too, Tom. Say hello to Ellen and the kids for me."

"Will do. And Merry Christmas, Geoff."

"Aren't you supposed to say, 'Happy Holidays' or some such shit?"

"To you? Allow me my small rebellions."

Trevor chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Tom." They disconnected.

Geoff looked at his sleeping friend and smiled. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll make it better for you," he vowed in an uncharacteristic feeling of tenderness towards her. He didn't name it, just left the room.

It was a good Christmas for all.

Please Turn the Page for a Preview of Book Two in the S.T.O.N.E. Series:

STEPPING S.T.O.N.E.

Chapter One

Truth does not do so much good in the world,

as its counterfeit does mischief.

Rochefoucauld

Geoff was winding down his run on the school track listening to the tape in his Sony Walkman. The song, "How Much Love Does It Take" was his fare at the time. He was singing along with Survivor and Carrie ran by as he sang, "I wanna know just how much love does it take to get to you." As she passed him, she showed him in inches. That's all it took and he was after her. "Wanna do a couple?"

"Not if you're doing repeats."

"Finished." Repeats was alternating fast and slow distances. It was one way of increasing speed and Trevor's training and occupation dictated that he be able to move quickly. Carrie only did repeats or hill training when she was preparing for a race. He jogged beside her keeping her seven-minute pace. She noticed that there were probably 15 other women on the track who would do repeats and anything else those pair of legs of his asked. There always seemed to be more women on the track when Trevor was out here. "I want to talk to you, Ms. Manners," he said bringing her out of her reverie.

"Mrs. Manners," she corrected.

"The lady with all the manners and etiquette on Long Island doesn't reezveep to the President of the United States."

"For what? A donation? I have people to take care of that."

"Oh, well excuse me Mrs. Penis Beautiful." Carrie had to chuckle at that one. "I meant the invite."

"What invite?"

"My yearly dose of VD."

"The Vietnam Vets Dinner?"

"That's the one. Didn't you get it?"

"Stop it, Geoff." She picked up her pace.

He picked up behind her with a, "Shit. Stop what?"

"I don't get social or political invites."

"Why not?"

"Where have you been?" She stopped and faced him, narrowing her eyes. "Or what are you pulling now?"

"Please explain. And keep your heart rate up. You don't want to have to start over again. And neither do I."

"Steve."

"What about him?"

"Persona non grata, Trevor." And she was off.

Geoff caught up again. "Tom McInallen told me he invited you." While Geoff was MC, the fact that the President was actually attending this year brought scrutiny to the guest list, much to Geoff's chagrin. And the President had promised him.

"Well he didn't."

"He asked me why you didn't reezveep."

"He was just being.... political."

"Bullshit. He's not political with me."

"He would be if he thought you wouldn't go. You're the reason his brother-in-law can attend."

"And Stan's the reason he's going. And I was going anyway."

"Why would he ask you about me?"

"Because he knows I know you and wanted me to ask why you didn't answer. Did you get all that or have I been running too long?" She didn't answer. "You're not buying this."

"Not yet."

"He didn't want you to feel obligated to come if he called you."

"Sounds logical enough."

"Because it's true, Carrie."

"Tell him I appreciate the gesture."

"Oh for crissake, Carrie, you were invited."

"I have no invitation to present and I'm..."

"I'll get it."

"No." She almost yelled, attracting two other nearby runners, female, of course. Geoff spotted Mark Katz and wondered what he was doing out there _. Running, asshole, just like you are, from Ffoeg._

He took Carrie's arm and stopped. "Why, Carrie?" He was genuinely interested.

"I am sick and tired of having to hold up my head in a crowd when all I want to do is bury it in the sand."

"Fuck 'em."

"You would say that. And so did I for..."

He grinned. "Sure you did."

She softened with a snicker and started up again. "You heard the kids. It was better for their sakes to retreat. And now, I'm not sure I want to start over."

"You know that kinda shit isn't really my style anyway."

"So why are you going?" she challenged. She knew that he always went to this dinner.

"'Cause this one isn't that kinda shit. Go with me?" Should he tell her?

"Thanks, Geoff, but I don't think so."

He sang, "Can I persuade you so softly with a touch?'"

She smiled and veered off the subject. "Ask one of these beauties around here to accompany you." She spread her arms around the track.

"I asked you." No answer. "Okay, I won't push. But if you change your mind..." He left it open.

"I'll call you." She grinned. "I gotta go. You're slowing me down."

He stopped running then called after her. She turned, waiting for the comment. "Wanna compare sweaty bodies?"

Trevor was an expert on foreign affairs. He knew the players, sometimes personally, and offered valuable input to the President and his Chiefs of Staff. Of the Presidential advisors, few knew that Geoff was one of them. They were just leaving a meeting with the NSA when Geoff called after the President. "Oh, Tom."

Thomas Patrick McInallen was a solid Midwesterner and his laid back manner disguised the keener aspects of his personality. He was a no-nonsense, hard core individual, the thing the country needed at the time. His foreign policy was one to be feared and at the same time, admired. He knew the intricacies of foreign politics and understood the statesmen and their heritages and cultures that influenced their thinking. The man's only fault, from the public standpoint, was his own heritage. He was an Irish Catholic. But so was Kennedy. "But Kennedy was a Democrat," his advisors had told him.

"So what do I change? My religion or my politics?" "Politics, of course," was the answer. "They'll think you're split on your views if you're split on tradition."

"Tough shit," he had answered. "I'm Irish, Catholic, Republican and that's how it stays."

"At least it's not redundant," Geoff had told him.

Trevor liked him. The President was a senator at the time Geoff had saved his brother-in-law's life. He knew Geoff had become an operative for the CIA and watched his career with interest. Geoff had turned down several promotions, received an honorable discharge, and stepped out and away from public and political arenas. McInallen didn't understand that. He, himself, didn't wake up one morning and say he wanted to be President, but neither did he shirk the call and duty to his country. He actually believed he could make a difference and that was why Geoff liked him. Pitied him, a little, for his naiveté, but liked him for it also. The President respected Trevor and eventually they became friends. His wife, however, adored Geoff.

"I have to beg out of your dinner," Trevor told him in the hall.

"Now it's _my_ dinner? And why? We wanted you there."

"You said you wanted Carol Courtney, too."

"I do." He tried for levity. "At least you told me I did."

It didn't work. "I talked to her. She said she got no invite."

"I sent her one. Maybe she's still pissed."

"She may be, but she didn't get one. I asked your majordomo if he sent her one and he said, and I quote, 'It would be bad form, Mr. Trevor. And on reflection, the President agrees.'"

"Bullshit. I asked you to check, didn't I?"

"Simms said he was speaking for you."

"Not this time." He sighed. "Give me her number, I'll..."

Trevor bristled. "No." It was as though the President, by virtue of his position, would make everything all better. For some reason, that rubbed Trevor the wrong way. He didn't want any goddamn favors.

McInallen stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"I said, 'no'."

"I hope you explain that." Not many people got away with that with the President.

"If I have to, you won't understand."

"I resent that, Geoff."

"And I'm sorry. I'll catch you later." He walked away.

The President called after him. "Are you coming?"

"I doubt it. No."

"Goddamn you, Trevor. My wife wants you there."

"I'll say my regrets to Ellen. Bye, Mr. President."

"Now you're pissed."

"Yep." He left. Fuck it; it was probably a bad idea anyway, he thought.

The President's wife called him. "I got a call from Geoff Trevor. What's going on, Tom?"

"He's pissed. Honey, I really don't have time to talk about ruffled feathers right now. I'll talk to you tonight."

"You're damn right you will."

"Now don't you be pissed."

"I want him there, Tom."

"Jesus Christ, Ellen, can't this wait?"

"Until tonight. Bye, dear." She disconnected.

"Shit." He looked at his guests. It was only his Veep and Attorney General or the President's secretary wouldn't have put the call through to him. He pressed his intercom, "Lydia, get Simms up here." He quickly added, "Please." When Simms arrived, the Commander in Chief almost yelled. "Why in hell didn't you invite Carol Courtney to the vets dinner?"

"I didn't think it proper."

"Fuck proper. I told you to invite her. My wife is pissed at me now. And when my wife is pissed, I'm pissed. Now Geoff Trevor has backed out."

"Because of the Courtney woman?"

"I can only assume so." Other than the damn spin doctors he mentioned.

"Then we don't need him."

"This is primarily _his_ dinner, or have you forgotten that? You don't dictate to him. My wife also wants him there. And you don't dictate to her. He saved her brother's life and unless you've also forgotten, this dinner is for Vietnam vets, of which he and Trevor are a part. He has to sing that goddamn song."

"What do you want me to do, Mr. President?"

"What I wanted you to do in the first place. Fucking invite her. We owe her and her family an apology."

"I'm not sure that's wise, sir."

"I don't give a shit what you're sure of, Simms. Get out of here and do nothing else until I tell you. Jesus! I can't believe I'm wasting time on this." Trevor's right, he thought. This is bullshit.

Ellen McInallen was a stunning woman, often compared to Jacqueline Kennedy, in looks and demeanor. By nature, she was a very private person, but handled her public responsibilities with ease and grace. She had been an Associate Professor in Marine Biology when she met Thomas McInallen at the Smithsonian. He was a lawyer running for Lieutenant Governor of Ohio when they met. They were married three days later and never looked back. "But I still hate politicians," she had said.

Over dinner that night, they talked. McInallen had just told her what had happened with Trevor. He knew when the gold shone in her predominantly brown eyes, that she was angry. And they glittered right now.

"I can't believe you were so insensitive, Tom."

"Insensitive? I invited her didn't I?"

"Apparently not. It's why I asked you to check with Geoff." Simms had brushed her off telling her that Carrie hadn't responded to the invitation. She hadn't believed him. "So Geoff backed out because of her?"

"I'm not sure. It seemed I pissed him off."

"I think you did. You seem to think that because you're the President, everyone will bow and scrape."

"I do not. Especially Geoff Trevor."

Ellen McInallen finally smiled. "That's why I like him. The most apolitical man I know."

"I just didn't have the time to deal with it right then and it may have appeared that I was insensitive."

"Geoff's as busy as you are. He took the time."

"He knows and likes her."

"And it's about time we got to know her. Her husband died for this country and we shit all over them."

"We apologized."

"In a closed room and sealed files. That's as good as nothing. You didn't have to convince _her_ that her husband was innocent. You didn't clear him officially. I wanted to make an apology at the dinner and see that it gets televised."

"Jesus Christ, Ellen, that would be admitting the Agency fucked up!"

"It did! You said so yourself."

"Yes, to you. Isn't inviting her gesture enough?"

"No. Tom, honey, look at our own kids. How would they feel?" She took a deep breath. "I promise you, Thomas Patrick McInallen, I want Geoff Trevor to escort that woman to the dais and sing his song or I will make a public apology telling how your precious CIA screwed up."

"You wouldn't." The President studied his wife of twenty-five years. "Of course you wouldn't." He took her hands in his. "What is it, honey?"

"Stan has threatened to do it."

The President's head fell to his hands. "Shit," he sighed.

"It would be better if you did it." She grinned. "You know I don't like Collier and I'd love to needle him."

"Ellen, please."

"We will get it known, Tom. It's about time someone welcomed her back into the fold."

"Maybe she doesn't want back."

"Can't say as I blame her, but at least it would be her choice. Geoff likes her, so I think she's good people."

"I'm sure they are, dear." He sighed again. "Christ, Collier's gonna love it."

"He wasn't Director then. He can always cover his ass."

"So what do we do? She's already pissed."

"I'll call Geoff and take his advice."

He took her hands. "Please clear with me whatever you, or Stan, might even think about saying."

"And you'd rather do it first."

He smiled. "If you don't mind."

Trevor's phone rang an hour later. "Geoff? Ellen."

"Hello, Ellen, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you. I need some advice."

"Shoot."

"I want Carol Courtney at the dinner. How do I get her there?"

"Why do you want her there?"

"To apologize - publicly."

"Jesus! Tom's agreed to that?" This was even better than what he had planned.

"Yes. He's going to do it."

"Admit the Agency fucked up?" Geoff knew his line was clear. He just hoped hers was.

"As delicately as possible, but yes."

"Does Collier know?"

"Not yet."

"Jesus."

"I want to needle him anyway."

Trevor laughed. "I'd love to be a part of that." He turned serious. "Pardon my suspicious nature, Ellen..."

"You want to know why."

"If you're not betraying any trusts, please."

"My brother...and this is between you and me, Geoff, all right?'

"All right."

"Stan knew Steve Courtney in Nam. Not well, but well enough to know it isn't true. Last year, he saw a group of kids on a field trip to the Smithsonian. He didn't know who they were at first until he took a look at the son. He looks so much like his father. While the other kids were grouped, some with two other chaperones, the Courtney kids were there with their mother. It seemed to be a class trip, but she had both kids there." It made sense to Geoff. Carrie was like that. "Well, he saw how some of the parents took their kids away from the Courtney children and how they regarded Carol Courtney. It was appalling. And he says he's tired of it. And that Steve should have been cleared a long time ago. He's been checking around..."

"Oh God." He chuckled to cover up that slip. "I thought he liked Tom." He heard her laugh. "I hope he's been discreet at least." God, I hope he's been discreet.

"At this point, he doesn't care. He threatened to say something at the dinner."

"Ellen...." How do I do this without arousing suspicion? "I'd like to do it if it's okay."

"Are you getting political on me, Geoff?"

"You know better than that." He hesitated. "For Carrie." He hoped she'd bite.

She did. "Oh. Okay. But can I ask a favor?"

"Done."

"Let Tom break the ice."

"Are you getting political on me, Ellen?"

"This time, I'm sorry to say, yes."

"You're forgiven."

"I'd like you to escort her to the dais."

"Jesus, Ellen, I don't know."

"You don't want to?"

"I don't think Carrie would want that."

"For some reason, Geoff, I think you're wrong."

"How?"

"I don't know her, of course, so tell me if I'm off base, but as a mother of six myself, I think she'd love to have her husband vindicated publicly and have her kids, especially, see it. Sense?"

Of course it was perfect sense. And he wondered why Ellen didn't ask him why he hadn't thought about that before. So he played stupid. "I don't have any kids, but I know them and should have thought of that."

"Should I call her?"

"She'd think I put you up to it. Let me talk to her. But let's keep it a surprise."

"God, what a romantic."

"Oh Jesus. I'm hanging up, Ellen."

She smiled. "Goodbye, Geoff. Thank you."

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Any mistakes, misquotes, or 'liberal' handling of historical facts are the fictional ploy of the author.

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