PART 26

A dull thump of the type made when a stack of case files fell sounded outside the office door, followed in short order by the scrabbling noises made when someone knelt to gather up loose papers. Both men inside the office fell silent at the interruption, listening to the brief flurry of activity less than a foot from the office door.

Kermit arched an eyebrow over the top of his glasses. "Pity we can't write that off as rats." He gave a disgusted snort. "I'd have thought they'd be less blatant about the eavesdropping, wouldn't you?"

Blake sighed. "I'm hoping that --" He waved a hand toward the office door, indicating the source of the noise just beyond. "-- was really an accident, instead of someone's idea of subtlety. They're better trained than that."

"Any bets on which one it was?" Kermit asked, idly twirling a pen between his fingers as he sought to stall long enough for the eavesdropper to give up and go back to his or her desk. The unexpected company outside the door damn well better move away soon so he and Blake could finish their brainstorming session in peace, or there'd be hell to pay. Time was fast running out for him to find Drako before Karen did.

~~~~~~~~~

Lost in thought, Kermit vaguely registered the click as the office door closed behind Blake. The computer screen atop his desk was black, as blank a slate as he feared Alex Drako's trail was. He stared at the screen without really seeing either the monitor or the empty expanse of desk normally occupied by his keyboard.

"So, Drako, you're nowhere near as stupid as I hoped you were," he muttered. "Figures." Underestimating his enemy had been a grave mistake, one he feared Karen would pay for with her life.

Sure, he'd realized her unnamed caller was a threat, especially once it became clear said caller was Kevin Drako's son. However, if he was absolutely honest with himself, he had to admit a part of him -- the most arrogant side of his nature -- had been certain he could neutralize the threat with little difficulty once he found the man. God forbid he should have grasped the possibility Alex Drako could outsmart a man at least twenty years his senior with far more experience in the sort of treachery Kevin Drako's world had involved ... until now.

Now all he had to do was find the young man before Karen did. an irksome inner voice taunted him. Kermit squelched the doubt that he could get a few steps ahead of her and beat her to Drako. Failure was *not* an option. He had to stay ahead of Karen long enough to end this entire scenario before whatever Drako had planned for the final act played out.

It was time, he acknowledged. It was time to tell the son the truth about the father. It was time to admit the most painful details of what had really occurred that night eighteen years before -- both to himself and to the younger Drako.

Before he could further explore the implications of that thought, Kermit's senses were assaulted by the shrill ring of his phone. Snatching up the offending item, he growled his last name.

"Well, well, well. We finally have a chance to talk." The male voice was smooth and cocksure -- and eerily reminiscent of another from that fateful night.

"Drako," Kermit spat, the knowledge of how treacherous the situation had just become freezing his blood in his veins. Up to this point, Alex Drako had gone after him from the shadows, making a point of getting to him through others, to show he could. If the man was calling directly, the stakes had changed. Kermit had convinced himself he had the upper hand -- no matter how small his edge was. Drako's prolonged silence at the other end of the open line, undoubtedly meant to rattle his opponent's nerves, signaled the tables had turned.

Kermit reined in the urge to move the conversation along. As much as he hated being left in the dark about anything, a few more moments of ignorance of Drako's latest plan were better than playing into his hands and giving him what he wanted.

~~~~~~~~~

"Anything I can help you with?" Blake asked. *If* he got an answer it wouldn't be a direct one. He'd bet his last dollar on that.

"Hmmm ... I'm sorry, what did you say?"

As distracted as the response sounded, it was likely meant to mask disappointment at getting caught, Blake noted. The guilty party was using one leg to balance a stack of manila folders against the edge of a desk and was studying the topmost document in the uppermost folder a little too closely. God knew nothing in those case files could be *that* riveting. He repeated the question; the culprit removed the sheet of paper from the folder, hunted for another halfway down the stack, and slipped it into that one before answering.

"Not unless you want to help me make sure everything's in the right files after that accident I just had with them."

Before Blake could point out the paperwork would be intact if certain urges to poke into others' business had been resisted, Broderick's raised voice cut across the bullpen. "Blake, you want to come over and sign for this package?"

His colleague's bent head snapped up. Blake thought uncharitably, his gaze flicking back and forth between the inquisitive light in his fellow detective's eyes and the courier waiting by Broderick's desk.

"Anytime, Blake." Broderick's annoyance was evident in his impatient tones. "Package is for Kermit, this guy wants a signature from you or him, and there's no way in hell I'm about to beard the lion in his den."

Blake sighed and made his way to the front desk. This damn well better be what he suspected it was. He snatched the clipboard from the messenger and signed his name, conscious of the interest with which he was being watched and thankful only the one of his overly curious colleagues was in the squad room at the moment. Exchanging the clipboard for the envelope, he noted the sender's name. Good. Kermit was waiting for this.

"Optimistic to call that envelope a package, isn't it?" The voice came from just behind his right ear. Blake stifled a groan; he should have known he'd be followed across the bullpen.

He turned to face his co-worker and asked, his tone measured, "At the risk of repeating myself, anything I can help you with, Skalany?"

~~~~~~~~~

"I see you know who I am." Drako chuckled. "I would say I'm impressed, but I know you talked to Quirk. How is your old friend? I hope jail is treating him well."

"You should know, he's your teacher."

"Yes, well, I learned well, but he's not my only teacher. But that's another story," Drako informed Kermit, his voice gaining cheer. "In fact, I have a story to tell you. Do you want to hear it?"

Kermit's grip on the phone tightened. "Quit playing the childhood games and tell me what the hell you want so we can get this over with."

"Oh, come on now, Kermit. You'll like this tale." Drako's enthusiastic voice took on a sing-song quality as he intoned, "Once there was a woman who didn't know her place in the world. She stuck her nose where it didn't belong and didn't do what she was supposed to do."

Anger swelled, the fury increasing as recognition of the identity of this tale's protagonist slammed into Kermit's consciousness. *Karen.* "If you lay one finger on her, you will find out exactly what I did to your father, because you'll end up the same damn way."

"Now, now, Mr. Griffin. Let's not do anything rash.  Your beloved police captain is my guest for just a short time." After a pause, Drako switched tacks. "You know, of course, that if a murder occurs and the perpetrator is found, a trial generally ensues. I'm only asking for justice. You do believe in justice, don't you, Griffin?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "I can tell you don't believe me when I say Ms. Simms is fine. I'm a reasonable man, so I'll make you an offer. Come and see for yourself. I'll expect you in an hour. Remember -- one hour or you'll find your Captain Simms at the bottom of the lake."

"Where?" Kermit leaned forward in his chair as if the motion could better convey the question's urgency across the phone lines.

Drako was silent for a short while, and Kermit's stomach churned as he waited for the reply. If Drako didn't answer him soon, he'd tear the city apart to find Karen before the specified hour was up. He was damned if he'd let his future be snatched away from him before he had a chance to start it.

Finally, when he was near giving up hope Drako would reply, the other man ordered, "Meet me in one hour at the Kensington warehouse on Third, at the north end of the industrial park."

~~~~~~~~~

The office door crashed against the wall as Kermit tore it open and stalked out into the bullpen. One hand touched the butt of the Desert Eagle to reassure himself of its presence, and he scanned the room quickly for the three suspected eavesdroppers. No Peter, no Jody. Just Skalany, engaged in what looked like a pretty intense conversation with Blake. He almost laughed at the unbidden image that came to mind of the shock that would be written on her face when she failed to get anything more out of Blake than she would have out of Kermit himself.

As he neared their position near the front desk, Blake called out to him. He ignored him and kept walking. Blake stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Kermit moved to the side to go around him, but found his steps mirrored by the other man. "Get out of my way," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Gladly." Blake executed a mock-court bow, complete with a broad sweep of his hand, passing an envelope to Kermit as he did so.

Kermit looked down at the envelope, then back up at Blake, the question in his eyes burning through the green lenses.

Blake shrugged. "Looks like Mac came through just in time. Figured you might need this."

~~~~~~~~~

Fingering the documents stuffed in his pocket, Kermit hurried out of the precinct. As he reached the Corvair, he looked around for Peter's Stealth. It was nowhere around, thank God. Kermit congratulated himself as he got behind the wheel and peeled away from the curb.

Peter wasn't going to have a chance to interfere, nor would anyone else, he vowed, grimly setting his jaw.  This was between him and Alex Drako. So help him God, it would come to an end by the time this day ended, one way or another.

END PART 26

Part 27

Gun drawn, Kermit prowled the warehouse's perimeter. One circuit of the asphalt lot surrounding the building would have been sufficient under ordinary circumstances. Mindful that a single mistake could cost him more than he'd ever risked paying, he made two circuits to satisfy himself that no guards protected Alex Drako's appointed meeting spot.

Rubber soles skidded on the slippery pavement. Kermit cursed in the split second before his feet regained traction against the ground, then ran across the open expanse between himself and the warehouse door. Karen's sedan stood a short distance from the entrance, and he halted nearby to perform one last visual scan for unfriendlies, tripwires, and any other trap Drako might have lying in wait for him.

When he'd first spotted her car, he'd been alarmed by her failure to follow instincts comparable to his own and park where Drako would see no one coming. Now he wondered who had demonstrated less caution. Karen, by parking in such close proximity to the building? Or Kermit, by leaving himself vulnerable to attack while covering the deserted area between his parking spot and the warehouse?

If Drako had learned as well as Quirk had bragged he did, maybe easy access to the means of a quick escape wasn't such a bad idea, Griffin concluded as he moved forward. Drako could have a small army in there with him. Kermit stopped mid-stride, frowning, as the memory forced its way to the forefront.

Seventy-two hours of rehearsal. Seventy-two hours practicing the maneuvers necessary to breach the defenses Drako's prior history suggested would be in place. Practicing the shot to be taken if and when Drako failed to cave.

Seventy-two grueling hours preparing for every possible contingency.

In the end, the mission's success was laughably easy. Heavy perimeter security was anticipated, but the clearing outside the hut was almost deserted. The same eerie silence that pervaded the nearby village enveloped his surroundings as Kermit edged ever closer to his quarry.

Two guards. Kermit suppressed a laugh at the discovery Drako's vaunted security consisted of two men, checked the silencer on his gun, and raised the weapon. One bullet struck the first man in the back of the head; before he hit the ground, Kermit rounded on the other guard and squeezed off a single shot to his chest, aiming for the heart. He paused long enough to check to ensure both were dead, then advanced on the hut.

He peered into the window and noted his target was seated at a small table, a glass filled with red wine in hand. Having found his quarry, he made his way to the hut's back entrance and began to ease open the rough wooden door.

Steel, cold and wet, hit his left palm. The jungle's oppressive heat faded and the blanket of darkness above lightened, leaving in their wake the dismal charcoal sky and plummeting temperatures of an autumn thunderstorm. Kermit glanced down to see the door knob in his hand. He didn't recall walking from Karen's car to the warehouse door, but his fear for her retained its grip on his heart. He pushed the memories to the back of his mind, detaching his instincts from emotion as he'd learned long ago.

The knob offered as little resistance as had Kevin Drako's men. Kermit opened the door and crept into the building, sweeping the interior with an assessing gaze to ensure the absence of any patrols. A cavernous room lay before him, a few scattered crates and pallets hinting at the purpose for which it had once been used. Fluorescent bulbs provided harsh light to most of the room, leaving its corners in shadow.

Three of its corners, Kermit amended as a streak of lightning illuminated them. Several doors, a strip of faded lettering affixed to each, were arrayed along the room's back wall. Light spilled through the crack beneath the windowed office door in the far corner and fought its way through the glass where its frosting had worn away.

Scanning his surroundings for anything he might use to make Drako come to him, Kermit moved stealthily toward the office. Five steps further into the room, he heard voices. He wasn't yet close enough to make out the quiet words, especially when a clap of thunder boomed above, but Karen's tones were immediately identifiable.

Even as rage suffused his blood, he smiled to himself in recognition of how distinctive -- and instantly, overwhelmingly welcome -- Karen's voice sounded. She struck a chord deep within his soul, a chord he'd never before allowed a woman to strike. And he was damned if he'd let Drako destroy her.

Reflexively, he checked the Desert Eagle's readiness. The weight of his sodden jacket constricted his arm movements, so he stripped it off, left arm first. As he returned his gun's familiar grip to his right hand, the jacket hit the floor. He left it there and continued on his path to the office.

A man's irate tones cut off Karen's voice, and Kermit's anger flared. If Drako laid one hand on Karen, he'd see for himself exactly how dangerous Kermit Griffin could be. Alex Drako would suffer a worse death than his father if that happened, for Kermit would make sure dying would be a long and painful process.

Part of him wanted to end all this peacefully. The rest of him wanted the chance to do some damage. Right now, his predatory, violent side was winning out.

Forcing himself to tune out the now distinguishable words, Kermit covered the rest of the distance between the warehouse entrance and the office. As he reached the door, he checked the Desert Eagle one last time.

Kermit kicked the door open, dove into the room and pointed the gun at Alex Drako, who stood leaning against a bare steel desk, his own weapon drawn. A sense of deja vu washed over him at the sight of the pale eyes, so like Kevin Drako's, as he registered the similarities between this standoff and the one eighteen years before. He took a deep breath and risked a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to the rickety wooden chair on which Karen sat. "You okay?"

"Fine."

Chair legs scraped against the floor seconds after he returned his complete focus to the man in front of him, who straightened and stepped a few inches forward. Impossibly, the next noise he heard sounded like Karen's high heels taking a few steps toward the two men.

"Kermit ..."

A second fleeting glance confirming that she was indeed fine and surprisingly unrestrained, Kermit inclined his head in the direction of the door. "Get out of here, Karen. This doesn't concern you. He should never have brought you into this."

Karen stepped between the men, directly into the path of the bullets should either pull the trigger. Her back was to Alex Drako, and Kermit marveled at her courage as strongly as he damned himself for endangering her life. Disbelief and understanding mingled in her eyes; she might accept the fact his protective nature was in full swing, but he doubted she appreciated being protected any more than he would.

"Leave," he urged, tearing his gaze from her to look over her shoulder so he could keep track of Drako's movements.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kermit. I know what happened, and I won't let you go down for something that isn't your fault. So don't even think I'm going to leave you now. You should know me better than that." She turned and reached past Drako to the desktop where her purse and weapon rested.

Kermit felt his eyes widen as Karen swept her service revolver off the desk, checked the clip, and secured it in her holster. Before he could figure out why Drako had left the gun loaded, she slid the bag to the far side of the desk and moved around both her captor and the desk corner to open the purse. When she inverted the bag, its contents spilled onto the desktop; she picked up a microcassette and an envelope Kermit found disquietingly familiar.

"As I told you when I arrived, I intend to keep my promise to ensure the truth becomes known, Mr. Drako. You have what you wanted -- Kermit Griffin on your turf. I believe it's only fair for you to keep your side of the bargain."

"I already have, *Captain*." Drako shifted his stance minutely, just enough to include Karen in his field of vision, unless Kermit missed his guess. "My quarrel's with Griffin, not you. You're free to go."

"Not yet. Not until you give me the time you promised me half an hour ago." Karen paused, casting a glance at the cassette player lying among the items strewn on the desktop. She shook her head and slipped the tape into her pocket as she paced to the front of the desk, then raised the envelope to Drako's eye level. "Hear me out. Let me share the contents of these documents with you. When I'm through, you can study them yourself."

A mixture of vengefulness and curiosity glinted in Drako's eyes. "Why should I waste any more time before I avenge my father's death?"

"Because these documents tell the truth. Everything. Including what's been swept under the rug all these years." Karen took a step closer to Drako; conscious effort kept Kermit from pulling her back. "I already know you don't want *me* dead. And to get to Kermit before listening to all the evidence, you'll have to go through me."

END PART 27

PART 28

"You have a great deal of confidence in your ability to outwit me, don't you, Captain Simms?" Drako laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure whether to find that amusing or foolhardy. But discovering which is the case should be rather entertaining, don't you agree, Griffin?"

"Just spiffy," Kermit growled. If he was reading Drako's expression right, the bastard expected more from the mouth of his father's killer. Although fulfilling that expectation was more than likely to be a tactical error, Kermit had half a mind to oblige ... until Karen's interruption prevented him from stepping into the trap Drako and his own guilt had set.

"Confidence in my capacity to outwit you?" Karen's lips twitched in what few other than Kermit would recognize as a repressed exhibition of scorn. "Hardly. I'd rather rely on the truth than on guile."

Drako lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Given the circumstances, I'd think the truth about Griffin would be the last thing you'd want disseminated."

"On the contrary. I have a great deal of confidence in Kermit."

Karen's soft declaration stabbed at Kermit's heart even as he heard Drako echo his own thoughts. "Your faith is misplaced, I'm afraid."

"No. It's not." Turning away from both men, Karen opened the envelope and removed its contents. She returned to the desk, spread the documents out, and turned back to them. "See for yourself."

Neither man moved a muscle.

Karen sighed, shook her head, and crossed her arms. Kermit almost grinned as he recognized the signs her exasperation was drawing close to the boiling point. A few more seconds, and Drako wasn't going to know what hit him.

"Gentlemen, I'm not standing here for my health." Impatience bled through both Karen's icy tone and the staccato tap of her foot against the tile floor. "Nobody needs to die here today. But if you now insist on a violent solution to this dilemma, at least do me the courtesy of listening to the truth first." Her foot stilled as her gaze darted between Kermit and Drako, settling on the latter. "You, Mr. Drako, promised me enough time to expose the truth. You claim to be a man of your word who only wants justice done, so prove it."

Drako's wary countenance remained set in stone, only a tic in his jaw betraying the strength of his desire to hear Karen out. Kermit wondered briefly if Quirk had used both himself and Drako as pawns to rid himself of the proverbial thorn in his side. his conscience scoffed. Still, the odd notion had worked its way into his brain solidly enough for him to physically start when he felt the weight of Karen's stare on him.

The same challenge present in her eyes as when she'd directed her words to Alex Drako, Karen held Kermit's shielded gaze long enough to instill a strange mixture of discomfort and reassurance in his gut. "And you, Detective Griffin, owe me enough trust to do this my way." She paused, and Kermit swore her misplaced faith in him made her eyes shine like sapphires. "For now. If I fail, there'll still be time to settle this your way."

Kermit hesitated, then decided he could trust Karen even if he couldn't trust himself. He inclined his head in agreement. "I'm willing to examine the documents." His own set of said documents rested unopened in his trouser pocket, its presence a nagging burden. All the damn paperwork could do was reinforce Drako's thirst for vengeance. Yet ...

"And I'm willing to keep my word." Drako's voice cut into his reverie, silencing Kermit's thoughts. "It's your game, Captain. For the moment."

"If you'll join me, I'll show you the proof you want."

Kermit watched Drako move toward the desk, then crossed to stand on Karen's other side. Both he and Drako had lowered their guns, he noted. Neither had relinquished his weapon, but both pistols' muzzles were pointed downward.

"Make this good, Captain. Your lover's future -- whether he has one, that is -- depends on this."

Kermit stiffened as Drako leaned over the desk, his arm brushing against Karen. In the fraction of an instant before his mercenary instincts would have caused him to lunge for the other man's throat, a whisper of a touch met his hand. Karen's fingers closed around his own, the quick pressure they exerted reassuring him she was all right. Another quality was present as well in the familiar sensation of her hand in his, he realized, and his mind finally completed his earlier thought. As certain as he was that these documents could only bolster Drako's case, Karen believed otherwise.

Was it possible? Could she be right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour. Blake consulted his watch, scanned the bullpen to determine the level of interest in his actions, and stared at Kermit's office door. No one was paying him any undue attention, as far as he could tell. No better time than the present, he concluded. Half an hour was long enough.

Resolve wavering, he shook his head. Maybe he'd give it a little longer before he invaded the lion's den. Kermit had been gone *only* half an hour, after all.

His decision lasted less than a minute. If Kermit's hasty departure had as much to do with a certain Alex Drako as Blake figured it did, he also figured his friend probably needed back-up more than he'd ever admit he did. And if that were the case ...

Blake rose and ambled over to Kermit's office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The Mossad? How terribly convenient that there's an intelligence service out there noted for its use of assassination to accomplish its goals. May I?" Drako asked with exaggerated politeness, pointing toward the papers to which Karen had directed his attention.

"Be my guest. As I've said, all the documentation I have here is for your perusal." Karen handed Drako the papers in question as she spoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Told you you wouldn't have found it if it was one of mine," Blake muttered as he unscrewed the mouthpiece of Kermit's phone receiver and removed the tape recorder activator his friend had never even suspected was concealed in the handset. Crossing to the file cabinet, he allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation at his own ingenuity. Hiding the recorder under the false panel in Kermit's own bottom file drawer had been a stroke of genius, if he did say so himself.

Recorder half out of the compartment, Blake froze at the sensation of someone's breath close to the back of his neck. He ignored his colleague long enough to complete his task, confident his failure to hear the door open or close told him who else was here. Straightening, he turned to face Peter. "I suppose you want in on this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drako examined the pages closely, then dropped them onto the desktop, his entire manner conveying disgust. "Rather byzantine hiring procedure, don't you think?  Let me see if I have this straight." Pronouncing each word with marked distaste, Drako summarized, "The CIA, rather than use its own resources, hired a mercenary to retrieve a stolen virus and execute the supposed thief. But wait, the CIA couldn't have its name associated with the mission. That just wouldn't do. So in an inspired moment of inter-agency cooperation, the Pentagon actually did the hiring, even though the Company hand-picked the assassin. And, oh yes, there was a pesky matter of an executive order barring CIA assassinations. So the DOD detached the operative to the Mossad, where he was technically an employee of the Israeli government subject to Israeli laws, and paid his salary to the Mossad as foreign aid. And then the Mossad paid the assassin money that came from his own government in the first place. Is that an accurate assessment?"

"Essentially." Karen shrugged. "I never claimed the government's methods in planning this mission were anything other than labyrinthine."

Drako slammed his hand against the desktop. "You offered me proof of the truth. All I've seen so far are forgeries. Rather clever forgeries, I'll admit, but forgeries nonetheless." Shock entered Karen's gaze. "You thought I'd buy the notion these were carbon copies of typewritten documents, I suppose?"

"You thought the originals would be taken out of the safe for something this trivial?" Kermit scoffed. "I guess Quirk didn't teach you as well as I thought. If he had, you'd know covert operatives are expendable -- especially if they're contract employees. No one's going to risk the originals getting into the wrong hands, even now. And back then the carbons either got burned or went into the vault along with the originals."

"Am I supposed to buy this act of desperation?"

"I'd suggest suspending judgment on the authenticity of these documents until you've learned the rest. And I *can* authenticate them if I need to." Karen sifted through the sheaf of documents still before her. "Let's move on. The mission brief. Details of what intelligence had been gathered about the virus's theft and your father's intentions. Anticipated defenses and strategy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Meet me in one hour at the Kensington warehouse on Third, at the north end of the industrial park." Blake shut off the tape recorder resting atop Kermit's file cabinet and resisted the urge to sneak another look at his watch.

"This is what Kermit's been trying so hard to keep me out of, isn't it?" Peter's query was a shade too casual to be an idle question.

Blake nodded, leaning back against the file cabinet. "Next question."

The last inquiry he expected was the one he heard next. "You're not going to explain any more of this to me than he would, are you?"

"Nope." Blake waited, anticipating Peter's next words.

When Peter replied, Blake realized he could have predicted exactly what he would say. "Looks like we better get over to the Kensington warehouse and back him up."

Blake waved a hand toward the office door. "After you."

Peter opened the door and paused, one hand on the door knob. "Sure, go back him and Captain Simms up. Don't tell Peter *why* we're backing them up or what the story is with this Drako character. He might understand."

Blake shook his head as Peter walked out of the office and called after him, "Don't think I didn't hear that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kermit listened to Karen read the mission brief aloud, allowing the memories to wash over him. Surveillance reports, coinciding with Drako's history of erecting similar defenses, indicated a small army posted as sentries around the man's suspected hideout, two or three bodyguards stationed at his side at all times. Orders were to retrieve *all* vials of the virus before they could be used or sold and to execute Kevin Drako -- unless he could bring him in peacefully. Suspicions Drako had a partner ran rampant in the intelligence trade, and rumor had it the DCI himself wanted both men taken down badly enough to offer Drako a deal if he fingered his associate. As a result, orders were to give Kevin Drako one last chance to turn himself in, executing him if he refused. When Karen finished reading, Kermit shook himself out of his absorption in the past and refocused his attentions on the younger Drako.

Alex Drako's silence bristled, fury evident in his every movement. Yet he offered no argument as Karen moved on to the debriefing transcript.

Hearing Karen read his own matter-of-fact recitation of the events of that night eighteen years before had to be *the* most surreal thing to happen to him in a life full of surreal events, Kermit decided. Neither judgment nor distaste colored her words as she recounted in excruciating detail his discovery Drako's security was down to two, his killing of both guards outside the hut, and his face-off with a lone Kevin Drako, who drew his own gun on Kermit.

"Liar!" roared Alex Drako. "My father was unarmed when he was shot and killed in cold blood. Quirk witnessed the aftermath of the murder you committed. He told me everything."

"Apparently not," Karen rejoined. She turned to Kermit. "Did you ever wonder why Drako's security was so light?"

He snorted and gestured toward the transcript of his debriefing. "You can stand there and ask after reading that? With all the questions they asked me then and over the next three days about whether I was sure there weren't others who'd escaped? I've asked myself that question a hundred times, wondered whether it meant Drako was on the verge of turning himself in, wondered if he was torn and my taking the mission tipped the balance against his giving himself up. I've never found the answer." He added slowly, "Not even in my nightmares."

"I have. Quirk pulled the guards. He set you up then to get rid of a partner who'd become a liability." Karen turned to Drako. "And he's setting you up now to get rid of his nemesis. And I have the tape to prove it."

END PART 28    

Part 29

Drako raised his pistol, bringing its barrel within inches of Karen's temple. Sheer willpower kept the Desert Eagle at Kermit's side as he assessed the situation, trying to determine whether he could get off a shot at the younger man without putting Karen in the line of fire.

The tremor in her hand visible only to Kermit, Karen withdrew a micro-cassette from her jacket pocket. "Mr. Drako, if you shoot me without listening to this tape, you'll never know whether I was telling you the truth."

"You weren't the one I was planning on killing." The gun in Drako's hand didn't waver, belying his words.

"And if you pull that trigger before you know if your mentor can be trusted, you'll always wonder whether you killed the wrong man," Karen returned. "If justice truly is what you seek, what harm can it do to listen to my conversation with Quirk?"

A bit more rapid than her normal speech pattern, Karen's firm and reasoned delivery of those words told Kermit her determination to clear his name had begun to border on despair. Ironically, for the first time since Drako's initial contact with her, he didn't share that sense of futility. Karen believed in him.

She knew his past had included assassinations and still she trusted him with her life.

Damn. Everyone who'd tried to get him to tell her the truth had been right. She loved him the same way Annie loved Paul, the same way Mary had loved Blake -- unconditionally, accepting the past, no matter what fresh hell life chose to throw at them. Karen wasn't going anywhere. And because she hadn't listened to him, there was now a chance ....

"What harm can it do to listen, Drako? You can always kill me later." Kermit reached for Karen's hand and returned the favor she'd done him earlier, briefly squeezing her fingers in reassurance. "Or have you been lying all along, like your father and your mentor? Maybe you're just as much a killer. Maybe what you want is revenge, not justice."

Time froze for what seemed an eternity before Drako lowered his weapon. "I'm a man of my word, Griffin. I do want justice." He smirked as he added, "I suppose I can afford to waste some time listening to this tape before I move on to the next step of my plan."

"The time spent won't be wasted," Karen vowed, slipping the cassette into the tape deck and pressing the play button.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he drove toward the warehouse district, Peter reviewed all he knew about Drako. Damn it, he still didn't have a clue as to exactly what was going on. But Blake knew.

He'd bet his bottom dollar that Blake pretty much knew *everything* about whatever Kermit and Captain Simms were involved in. Peter tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he made a right turn, less out of a need for greater control over the car on the slick road than out of frustration over the way everyone was stonewalling him. Asking had gotten him nowhere so far -- with Kermit, with Captain Simms, or with Blake. A sidelong glance at the other detective's grim, yet closed expression told him he wasn't likely to get any further now.

Maybe if he talked the whole thing out ... He studied Blake; tension rolled off the other man in waves, despite his calm demeanor. Unless Peter missed his guess, Blake shared his fear they wouldn't get there in time to stop Drako from turning the situation deadly. Maybe talking the whole thing out would chisel away at the wall his colleague had erected so Peter could get at least part of the story out of him. Maybe. Hell, it was worth a shot.

"You know, I was probably the first one to talk to this Drako character," he mused aloud, taking his eyes off the road long enough to catch any potential reaction. The lack of one might have been because Blake was *that* good at concealing his response or because Simms had already shared the information with him. Peter's money was on the latter. "He asked for me by name. Supposedly had information on a murder committed by a cop. From the sound of the call you taped, I'm guessing the cop he was accusing was Kermit."

Blake didn't answer. Then again, Peter admitted ruefully, he hadn't really expected him to reply.

"Anyway, when I took that first call and tried to get information out of the guy, he wouldn't tell me a damn thing. Just insisted on speaking to Captain Simms." Peter stopped short, a dim memory gnawing at the corners of his brain. He mentally replayed the previous morning's phone call once, then a second time, and finally latched onto what was bothering him. "Wait a minute. The first time he called, Drako never asked to speak to Captain Simms by name, just to speak to the precinct commander. But he did ask for me by name. Shit. He didn't know about Simms taking over the 101st, did he, Blake?" Without waiting for an answer, Peter rushed on, "He was using me to get to Paul. Whatever he's threatening to expose -- Paul was involved."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anticipating the portion of the tape that would play next, Karen sent up a silent prayer this would work. It was Kermit's last chance.

So far, Drako hadn't exhibited much emotion despite hearing Quirk brag about how close he'd been to the big score eighteen years ago and how he'd then bided his time until one of Kevin Drako's sons came to him for the supposed truth about their father's death. She'd briefly seen pain flicker in the young man's eyes when Quirk boasted of how easily he and Kevin had breached Fort Detrick's security in order to steal the virus and of the vast sums involved in the deals he had brokered. But Drako had listened to Quirk's confirmation of the evidence she had shown him as stonily as though he wasn't at all affected by the knowledge his mentor had lied to him for years. As a result, Karen wondered if his quest for vengeance had unhinged him enough to kill Kermit no matter what he learned.

Quirk's recorded voice penetrated her thoughts, telling Karen her trump card was being played. "Don't you find it ironic that Griffin's love of his country will be his downfall? If he'd paid more attention to money and less to duty ..."

Kermit flinched at the words, and Karen caught his reaction out of the corner of her eye. She sighed, annoyance and compassion warring in her heart. How in the world could a man who time and again proved his honor by his actions doubt his own capacity for ethical behavior when his integrity was acknowledged, even as a backhanded compliment, by others? In many ways, Kermit was the most moral man she'd ever known, and she was damned if she was going to allow Alex Drako to smear his good name.

Renewed hope fueling her determination to neutralize the threat Drako posed, Karen returned her full attention to the young man as she heard Quirk's assessment that his father had gotten "a little too sloppy -- enough so that taking him out of the game looked like the only option." A livid white line formed around Alex Drako's tightly compressed lips as his eyes widened and glazed over. His apparent shellshock lasted until they heard the boast that "Kermit doesn't know it yet, but I'm the one who made it easier than it should have been to get to my dear friend Kevin." Fury instantly replaced the mixture of disappointment and confusion in Drako's eyes, as though a switch had been flicked somewhere deep inside him.

Without looking in his direction, Karen could sense Kermit preparing to strike. She reached to lay a hand on his arm, staying his actions before he could move to position himself between her and Drako. When he resisted, she inclined her head toward the recorder, the movement occurring as Quirk's promise to enlighten her further once Kermit was dead gave way to her own continued probe for the facts surrounding Kevin Drako's death. Silence followed her words encouraging Quirk to share the history he claimed to have made that night. Kermit's muscles tensed under her hand; she allowed herself the luxury of glancing away from Drako to offer her lover a smile. She hoped her smile conveyed her newly regained certainty all would work out in his favor.

Tension filled the room as the dead air on the tape continued. Karen counted off the seconds in her head. Quirk's silence seemed longer now than it had when she'd recorded this interrogation, damn it, so much so that she almost jumped when he began to speak again. She wasn't the only one caught off guard, she realized as she heard a slight hitch in Kermit's breathing, the sound unexpected enough she missed Quirk's identification of his long-dead leak within the Company.

"... and once he informed me the Director had brought Blaisdell in on the strategy sessions, the only question left was whether it would be Blaisdell or Griffin who'd carry out the mission. I'm sure you can guess the answer, Captain. Your predecessor had a family, your lover didn't, which made him more expendable. Then, of course, there was the matter of a certain history between Kermit and our friend Kevin. All in all, the powers that be determined Kermit would be the wiser choice for this assignment. Fools! They thought that after the missions they'd done together Kevin might back down if it was Kermit who came after him."

Quirk paused. Karen held her breath, waiting for the acknowledgment Alex Drako would never expect. "Most in the trade wouldn't have given Kevin a chance to turn himself in and finger his partner, even with orders from on high. I suppose I'm lucky Kevin was too wrapped up in thoughts of the grand life our little venture could provide to be tempted by that offer." Contempt laced Quirk's voice as he went on, "God, that must have been quite a sight -- Kevin feeding his own delusions of grandeur while Kermit tried to persuade him to confess. And Kermit *would* have given him that opportunity. He always was one of the few with an overdeveloped sense of morality -- just like Blaisdell."

END PART 29

Part 30

Even now, filtered through the recorded medium, Quirk's laughter sent a chill down Karen's spine. "It's a pity Kermit was never more interested in capitalizing on his skills," he drawled. "A partnership with him could have proved rather intriguing. Not to mention profitable. Whatever his faults, Kermit always was a calculating son of a bitch. I would have been able to count on *him* keeping his eye on the bottom line."

"Kevin Drako didn't?" Karen expected her query to elicit a defense of his father -- or, at least, of his father's skills -- from Alex Drako. Instead, he leaned forward, as though closer proximity to the tape deck could alter Quirk's admissions.

"Never trust a man that obsessed with amassing power to do what's best for business. Enough of the virus had fallen into our hands for us to satisfy all comers, and I had several bidders lined up. We could easily have made enough of a killing -- if you pardon the expression -- to live in the lap of luxury for fifty or sixty years." A harsh burst of laughter punctuated the statement. "But Kevin got greedy. He wanted it all. Not merely the riches within our grasp, but for the world to bow down before him. He'd done a mission or two near that village, thought it would be the perfect place to unleash the virus and watch what happened. Remote enough to serve as a logical hideout, but with a water supply -- a rather primitive one at that -- close at hand to use as a delivery system."

"Your test case, so to speak?" In retrospect, Karen wasn't altogether certain how she'd kept her voice neutral, rather than allowing her disdain for the scheme to bleed through.

"When he first suggested it, it seemed an appropriate solution. The terrain was familiar. We both had contacts in Nicaragua who'd be more than willing to enter our employ. Why not try the virus out on a bunch of peasants and demonstrate its effectiveness as a weapon to our bidders? For instance, a certain Palestinian splinter group wanted the virus badly, but was reluctant to meet our price. A successful demonstration would have had quite an effect on its leaders' willingness to negotiate."

"So that's why the Mossad was so eager to 'officially' bankroll the recovery of the virus. They must have known that the prospect of its being used against Israel was a clear and present danger." Karen would have thought Kermit's whisper barely loud enough to carry to her own ears if she hadn't seen recognition of the truth of his deduction spark in Drako's eyes.

Again, she'd been distracted enough to miss a couple of sentences, she realized, picking up on Quirk's words mid-sentence. "... had to be disposed of. So I made sure it was simple for Kermit to get to him and then I sat back and let him do my dirty work for me."

"Fucking bastard set me up!"

Karen's jaw dropped as she watched Alex Drako stab his finger at the recorder's off button, silencing his gloating mentor. At the fringes of her peripheral vision, Kermit clenched the Desert Eagle's grip so tightly his knuckles whitened. Only a second or two elapsed before his strained voice broke the eerie hush that enveloped the room. "You weren't the only one he set up. At least you found out what Quirk was planning *before* you let him maneuver you into pulling the trigger."

"I was under the impression my father never got off a shot. Or was that yet another of the many lies around which it seems I've built my life?" Drako's monotone frightened Karen more than would have a shout whose volume rivaled the thunder outside.

Kermit matched the lack of inflection in the younger man's voice when he clarified, "I was talking about myself. Maybe if I'd had all the facts about Quirk's involvement before I confronted your father, I could have persuaded him to turn himself in." He paused and drew in a deep breath, his need to steady himself before continuing glaringly apparent to Karen. "If I hadn't allowed Quirk to play me for a fool, I might have questioned Kevin's lax security more intently. And if I'd brought that up, he might have realized his partner had sold him out and given up peacefully."

Drako hesitated, his expression betraying an inner struggle between several conflicting emotions Karen couldn't quite identify. She narrowed her eyes, allowing her gaze to dart between him and the tape deck, then came to a decision. "A few minutes ago you denied your father had been armed that night. Yet you just argued he never got off a shot, thus implying he was indeed armed. Don't you think it's time to finally resolve the contradiction? You wanted the truth. There's more on this tape I believe you need to hear."

"I have a fair idea of what may come next." Before she could turn the recorder back on, Drako reached across the desk and did so himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter made a sharp left into the industrial park, then spared his silent passenger another curious glance. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake the feeling there was more to whatever was going on than anyone realized. Somehow, Paul was involved in this.

Since that piece of the puzzle fell into place several minutes before, every effort Peter made to figure out exactly what Kermit and Captain Simms were involved in took him full circle to Paul's connection to whatever Drako was threatening to expose. Paul was involved. The words echoed in his brain, and Peter sighed. He needed to know how, but trying to get any information from Blake was like pulling teeth.

Thunderclouds loomed ahead, darkening the sky to the point where the streetlights illuminated little more than they did in the dead of night. He was in the dark, damn it, in more ways than one. To this day, he didn't know the real reason Paul had left. He'd stake his life on that, just as he'd stake his life on his suspicion Paul's decision to leave was connected in some way to protecting his family from an enemy made long ago. Maybe Drako's calls were the key to the truth.

But he sure as hell didn't understand everything unfolding now, and he doubted there was much of a chance he'd ever find out how Paul was involved. Trying to get Kermit to tell him anything would be next to impossible; sometimes he thought his friend lived to devise creative ways to avoid truthfully answering questions about his past. And now Blake was acting just as secretive. Damn.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registered Blake's intent interest in the tracking device he held gingerly in his right palm. "Where to?" Part of Peter wondered whether Blake would actually answer him or just point. A few seconds went by without a response, and he remarked, "You know, this silence of yours is beginning to wear pretty thin."

Blake glanced up and looked around as though trying to place their location, then back down at his palm. Pointing with his left hand, he spoke the first words he'd uttered since they left the 101st. "Take the next right. They're at the Kensington warehouse."

"We knew that already. We heard the recording of Kermit's call from Drako, remember? Why risk pissing Kermit off further by planting a homing device on him?"

"Kermit's not the one I'm tracking." Blake paused, then added, "And Simms' car's been stationary since we left the precinct."

"OK. So what does this have to do with Paul? And what the hell is this all about? Want to clue me in before we get to the warehouse?"

Silence.

Peter gritted his teeth, tamping down his impatience as best he could. "Fine, let's take it from the top. I know Kermit's in some trouble that has to do with the phone calls from this Drako character, and you and Captain Simms know what it is. So let me ask you again. What the hell is going on?"

No answer, no reaction. He had to hand it to Blake, Peter thought. So far, he was approaching Kermit in the stonewalling department. He'd never known Blake could be so stubborn. The standard joke around the precinct claimed you could get Blake to do almost anything you wanted without encountering any trouble at all, and he'd often thought there was some truth behind the theory. He rolled his eyes.

Blake inclined his head toward the front of the car. "Here we are. No sense in letting Drako know we're coming."

Peter stopped his car next to Kermit's green Corvair, exchanged nods with Blake, and stepped out of the car. Both men pulled their service revolvers out of their holsters before moving toward the warehouse entrance. One way or another, Peter vowed, he was going to get the answers he was looking for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"... had the foresight her husband lacked," Quirk's taped voice derided. "When I delivered the news of her husband's death, Maggie was sensible enough to understand the truth about his ... last job had to remain hidden if her sons were to get anywhere in life. Especially since she was under the impression he'd stolen the virus to prove a point. It would never have occurred to her to tell anyone of my involvement in our grand plan. As far as she was concerned, Kevin masterminded a noble effort to demonstrate how lax the government's security was. An effort I agreed to assist him with. And as far as she knew, everything went horribly wrong, we were sold out by those we'd recruited to help us, and I discovered the betrayal too late to stop Kevin from being killed by a government desperate to cover up its mistakes."

Kermit watched confusion and disillusionment touch Alex Drako's face as he listened to Quirk. Karen's wary expression told him whatever was yet to come had the potential to set the younger man off like the proverbial powder keg. Reflexively, he tightened his grip on the Desert Eagle once more and waited for Quirk's next gloating revelation.

"Ten years ago, Maggie stumbled upon some old financial documents. Ironic, actually, that I'd been hunting for Kevin's account for so many years with no success and she discovered it without even trying."

"Didn't expect it to be in Liechtenstein, did you, Quirk?" Kermit muttered, missing the next sentence or two on the tape.

"Maggie saw the money as her family's security. She had no right to it. Kevin moved the money we'd already made from the virus offshore right under my nose, and now his widow thought *she* had the right to lay claim to *my* money." Quirk's voice dropped, the decreased volume lending a more sinister edge to his tone. "I couldn't allow her to take away my earnings, not to mention the interest they'd accumulated, a second time. Not after all the work I'd put into being such a close friend to Kevin's family. The accident was quite simple to arrange. But then --"

The click of the off button reverberated through the suddenly quiet room, the combination of the sound and a simultaneous clap of thunder oddly reminiscent of the crack of a gunshot some distance away. Kermit's finger inched closer to the Desert Eagle's trigger, withdrawing to its previous position only when he saw Drako rewind the tape and hit the play button.

"... accident was quite simple to arrange."

Drako repeated the process twice more, the rage that darkened his face steadily increasing. The last time, when he stopped the tape, he began to bring up his gun hand. Kermit tensed, but some incomprehensible instinct made him refrain from taking action against the younger man.

His restraint was rewarded. Drako's gun sailed onto the desk in front of Karen, striking the tape deck with a dissonant clang.

Kermit exchanged an astounded glance with Karen, Drako's movements still visible in the periphery of his vision. The younger man reached inside his jacket, and Kermit brought up the Desert Eagle, certain he was reaching for another weapon. "Easy. Keep your hands where we can see them. Use two fingers to bring it out slowly."

Drako paled, his countenance turning ashen. "I hardly think two fingers is safe. Glass breaks easily, you know."

Karen's brow knit in puzzlement; Kermit carefully schooled his expression to remain bland, aware his own curiosity likely exceeded hers. "All right, use as many fingers as you need to."

Gingerly, Drako withdrew a small vial from his pocket. He set it down on the desk with unerring precision, then backed away. "One lesson my father taught me was well worth learning," he admitted, his voice growing more detached with each word. "Trust your gut. Both my brothers acted on their instincts and steered clear of Quirk once they were adults. Especially once Mom died. I scoffed at their suspicions and bought into every lie Quirk told us. I wanted to believe in my father's innocence so much I ignored my gut telling me his old friend had an agenda of his own. I ignored every hole in his story of how my father really died. And I ignored my conscience."

As though he'd heard the guffaw Kermit resisted letting out, he added, "Oh yes, contrary to what you may think, I *do* have a conscience. I truly regret this fiasco I've orchestrated. But what I regret most is that I came so close to finishing what Quirk and my father started." He inclined his head toward the vial. "What's in that vial could wipe out a small country under the right conditions. I haven't provided those to Quirk yet."

Before Kermit could respond, he heard someone moving in the warehouse's main room. He shook his head in reluctant amusement. "Cavalry's a little late, isn't it?"

Karen made a show of consulting her watch. "I'd say so."

With that, the office door swung in, revealing Peter and Blake. Kermit waited long enough for the two men to take in the tableau before them, then drawled, "Nice of you to join us."

"Perhaps you'd like to do the honors of the arrest and evidence gathering, Detectives," Karen added, gesturing to Peter to cuff Drako. "Treat the vial with all due caution."

Blake shot a startled glance at Kermit, who nodded, then moved forward to secure the vial.

"We'd have been here sooner if you'd let us in on things," Peter tossed over his shoulder.

"Speaking of which ..." Kermit allowed his words to trail off as he holstered the Desert Eagle, then lowered his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, looking over the frames at Blake. "Where did you hide it?"

"The tape recorder activator or the recorder?"

Grudging respect for Blake's ability to put one over on him lacing his voice and belying his words, Kermit warned, "You're a dead man when I find them."

END PART 30