The room was plush in an animalistic sort of way. Emma's style had evidently taken a turn toward the primitive. When he had known her years ago, her manner had been more uptown-chic. There had been a smoothness about her, an ease now displaced by obsession. Kermit followed her into the room, carefully sizing up the space and filing away the layout for future use.

"Your boss do the decorating, or have you started collecting animal hide as a hobby?" Kermit eased down onto the leopard print bedspread and watched as Emma lit a bank of candles on an ivory table. One by one, she ignited each wick, glancing back at him with an almost innocent smile.

"There's something about fur that warms up a space, don't you think?" The flames licked their way across the room, reflected by a mirror framed in ebony. The entire room held a thick, dangerous quality. All around was black leather, upholstery and coverings made from exotic cats that could murder a man with one paw, and primitive masks to frighten away evil...or invite it.

"Dead things warming up a space? Suits the occupant, I suppose," Kermit said. As Emma poured two glasses of a blood red wine, he grasped the electronic scanner in his pocket. Running a quick sweep for monitoring equipment, he eased the device out and read the all clear. They were alone.

Alone, except for your wife in your head, Griffin.

With a firm slap to his mental lapse, Savannah was banished. This was a job, a mission. Stopping Latrodect must be his only focus. Maintaining his cover was the only objective Kermit had to pursue in this room with this woman.

Emma offered his glass, then, after he hesitated to drink, took a long sip from her glass. "You don't have to be so touchy," she said, kicking off her shoes. "We are on the same team now." She ran sleek fingers down his arm. "I missed you."

Her touch was a scathing memory. All those long nights spent in meaningless scorching sex. Every time he had dug himself into her body he'd thought of Savannah, longed for her, mourned his loss, searched for a way to sedate his regret. He was a man and couldn't deny the physical pleasure. He had enjoyed it, enjoyed her even in his crazed state at the time. Looking at her now, there was even a swift breath of guilt at the way he used her, was using her. "I thought about you, too." It was true in fact, but the connotation was a lie.

He had thought about Emma often, sadly. He had thought about her the night he told Savannah about what he had done in her absence. He came clean before the wedding. She deserved a chance to know and base her future on the truth. The look in her eyes spoke of pain and disappointment. But, she loved him. 'Whatever happened is over. I won't beat you over the head with it, Kermit,' she had said. Savannah had been true to her word and never used that time against him.

It was a job. It had meant nothing, meant nothing now.

Wrapping her dark red lips over the edge of her glass, Emma drew in another long sip of her wine. With one hand, she began to unbutton her blouse.

Kermit didn't react to refuse or invite, simply allowed her the seduction. Drinking from his own glass, he said, "I wondered where you went after things went south last time. Even tried to find you."

Her smile widened, boring playful dimples into her cheeks. Her heavy satin blouse was gone now, pooled around her wrists and waiting to be removed. Black lace and cleavage leaned a little more closely. "Latrodect and a few of us went into hiding for a while. He's never been one to let things unravel completely. He said he'd come back, and he did."

"And he wasn't upset that you saved my life?"

"Oh, he forgave me after a while. Latrodect takes care of loyal staff." She was smoldering now, looking at him like a hungry cat. "His perks are the best."

The faith she placed in Latrodect made her seem almost vulnerable, a pitiful stereotype. There, half dressed in front of him, was that girl everyone knew in high school. Wrong side of town. Too much make up. Too few clothes. Desperate enough for love or status or security she would sacrifice herself to the highest bidder. Even given her less than saintly willingness to do Latrodect's bidding, he couldn't suppress a touch of sympathy.

Only a touch.

"He must have some heavy back up in his corner." Kermit sat still and quiet. Emma eased her fingers inside his jacket and slid it off his shoulders. She was loosening her tongue in more ways than one. "Anyone I should know about?"

"Not at the moment, Baby." Her mouth pressed against his, tongue prying brazenly between his lips.

Role playing required his response. Thanks for the help, Mr. Happy. He returned the kiss, giving himself over to masculine reflexes that didn't require effort or any particular female for inspiration. She was a body. She meant nothing. The seduction could leave her open to a slip.

After all...we are supposed to be on the same side.

In an encouraged rush of lust, Emma twisted their bodies. With Kermit stretched out beneath her, she straddled him with long legs, pushing her skirt nearly to her waist.

Down boy.

The woman leaned over to devour him with long wet kisses. "Oh...Baby...remember this? Remember how it was?" The grinding heat layered over his body, demanding a response or retreat. "I know you ..couldn't have this with that dainty little flower you've been with...not like this...poor baby...I'll give it to you.."

With a brutal shove, he threw her off, pinning her to the bed instead. His large hands captured her small pale ones and confined them to the fur coverlet. Now he was in control, growling into her face. "Like this, wasn't it?"

"Yes...Baby....do it..."

"Why should I?"

"Please.."

"I can't trust you."

Emma bucked under him, wild with desire. "Yes, you can, Baby. No tricks...please, Baby...do me..."

The air prickled between them. Emma's breath was coming in desperate pants as she ground her body against his. He held himself still, towering over her, keeping her pinned.

Decide. Think.

Emma began to growl in her frustration. "I thought you were here?! With us?! Left that mousy little bitch behind? What's the deal, Kermit?! Are you--"

Kermit buried her angry screeching inside his mouth, making sure to add a touch of pain to even the score.

******

"So, when's the wedding?" Peter asked as he and Lo Si walked down the crowded sidewalk. Friday night had spilled out into the streets and filled it with couples. Everywhere there were couples. Lo Si and Mrs. Po had made quite a pair, sipping tea and whispering in Chinese.

"I am not so selfish as to deprive the seasoned women of our neighborhood of my attentions by tying myself to one bride, young Caine." Lo Si cast an almost impish smile and tucked his hands deeply inside his sleeves.

"Oh no, but you'd have me saddled up by the first cowgirl to come along, wouldn't you?" Peter wasn't exactly certain how the old man had convinced him to accompany him. It hadn't been too uncomfortable. Dinner was nice. Alice Po was nice...very nice...nice enough to send him screaming for the door if he hadn't clamped down on the urge to run. Alice could cook. Alice was intelligent. Alice spoke three languages. Alice wanted a family and was "in excellent health," to quote her mother.

Mrs. Po's sales pitch had been punctuated by Alice waiting on him hand and foot. And she was nice, but he wasn't interested. Sweet, quiet Alice would run if she knew half of his past. One good visit by the Sing Wah would send you straight to a nice Chinese lawyer, Alice.

At least the lights and street noise were a distraction. The mingled voices, music, and traffic moved along with them as they walked. It was becoming more like home instead of a place to visit. There was a time when all the chaos ground his nerves. Now...it was a rhythm that had become his backdrop.

"In spite of the outcome, it was nice to get out of the house, was it not?" Lo Si nodded gently to the passersby and kept his eyes on their destination. "Cooking has never been your strong suit."

"Okay, I admit it. It was good to get out," Peter said, reluctant to concede. "Happy?"

"Quite." Lo Si brought their procession to a stop in front of his building. "Don't be a stranger."

"I see you every morning."

"To yourself, Peter." Lo Si slipped away through the door and was gone.

Self was easy to lose in the search for a new life. Peter smiled after the old man, ran a quick hand through his hair, and headed toward home. Lo Si was right. He needed to focus on himself more, on finding out what kind of man he wanted to be--on what kind of life he desired. Pieces were missing. He had to open his eyes and find them.

Take a trip to me. That line had stuck in his mind from one of Kelly Blake's Cosmopolitan issues years ago. Psycho babble rings true, huh, Lo Si.

******

Miguel pounded a heavy hand on Emma's door. "Griffin!" he barked in an irritated bellow. "You had an hour. Get off the woman. The boss wants you."

After another round of knocks, the door opened. A brooding storm roared out of the room and past Miguel. A slam shut off Emma's room and the thick mercenary had to double his stride to catch up to Kermit, who was stalking double-time down the hall.

"Hey, Griffin, was I in time to save your virginity?" Miguel raised a a lascivious eyebrow as he caught up to his partner.

Kermit's voice was jagged with anger. "I didn't hire you for your wit, Rodriguez. Keep your mind on business and your mouth shut." The sharp words cut out of his throat toward the man at his side and silenced the implications.

Both men continued forward in a heavy silence. Too much said and unsaid. Still emerged in their roles, Kermit and Miguel joined Latrodect in his headquarters.

This room was different from the elegant decor of Latrodect's downtown penthouse. No, this room was Spartan. The furnishings were cheap office supply pieces of painted metal and formed plastic. One desk. Three chairs. A computer and phone. A lone briefcase sitting open on the clean desktop. This room was meant to be used and cast aside quickly.

Kermit sat down in one of the hard back chairs. Miguel, true to character, refused to sit and stood at his back. Latrodect remained silent for a moment, observing the pair with a thinly veiled sarcasm twisting his lips.

"I just called on Emma and she's unavailable. Nothing unpleasant happened between the two of you, did it?" Latrodect's eyes never left Kermit's face as he retrieved a single sheet of paper from his briefcase. "She has been filled with anticipation. It made her quite willing to be cooperative."

"She's napping," Kermit said, folding his arms and holding the stare.

"Put her to sleep, did you?"

"Well...," Kermit allowed himself an unsavory grin, "I don't want to brag."

"Funny, I always found her a bit lackadaisical for my tastes." Latrodect rose carefully and moved around the sit on the front of his desk.

"I suppose a Ferrari would be lackadaisical if you couldn't find the ignition."

"And was she more satisfying than your lovely...blonde...soon- to-be-ex wife?"

Kermit remained fixed and physically unresponsive at the mention of his supposed former life. Flatly, he answered, "Quite."

Latrodect watched a smile form on the mercenary's lips and seemed satisfied. Leaving his exploration behind, he turned to another order of business. "Things are moving along nicely, gentlemen. Dr. Rhodes, given his skill, should have our product ready in a day."

"What product?" Miguel's voice rattled in the nearly empty room.

"Not yet, Mr. Rodriguez." Latrodect wagged a finger as if chastising an impatient child. "I have a test prepared for our new product. You are to procure detailed plans for the personal residences of these people." He handed the crisp white page to Kermit. "Pay special attention to the plumbing layout and security systems for the home and its grounds. You'll need to get in and out leaving no trace. Can you handle that, Griffin? Can I count on you?"

The words lay stacked in the air between them, echoing against the bare walls and empty space. Kermit read the names on the page and folded it neatly into his pocket. Latrodect obviously had few steps remaining to accomplish his goal. The mood of this location screamed temporary. It would be a safe bet that the old office had been stripped bare. This was a much faster pace than anticipated.

He thought about the name listed first in Latrodect's order of service, and he answered. "I need an hour."

"An hour? My, Mr. Griffin, you are a confident fuck aren't you?" Latrodect laughed a coarse, brutal release. "Get the information. I'll be out connecting with an associate of mine. When I return, phase two begins. Be ready." With that, he left the room, clicked the door closed behind him.

Kermit pulled out the page once more. "We've got an hour. Let's see if Blake's done his job."

Slowly, deliberately, he tore the page in half.

*****

Blake played the role of an obsessed scientist to perfection. Shoulders hunched in front of the computer screen, he clicked through information, making notations on a pad. Kermit eased into the room cautiously, taking great care to keep his cover intact.

"We've come to keep you company, Doctor," Kermit said as Miguel closed the door behind them. Scanning the space, he found it as impersonal and efficient as Latrodect's command station. Everything had a purpose. The glass and chrome lab equipment seemed standard issue, even though its true usage was lost to Kermit Griffin. Blake was the chemist--or had been long ago.

The rest of the room was empty, save for a table and a Macintosh blinking in front of Blake's gray head.

"We're not being watched. The room's clean." Blake spun around in his chair to face them. "It's bad."

"Show me." Kermit stalked over to the screen. They didn't have time for small talk. "We've got an hour."

Blake fell into mercenary mode--all business, no frills. "It's not exactly the chemical warfare level I expected, but it's along those lines." Blake clicked the mouse and found the correct file. "True to form, Latrodect is screwing around with venom again. From what I can tell, the other scientist had been able to produce a combination of various spider venom in a synthetic form."

"No milking the real thing? Convenient." Kermit stared at the chemical hieroglyphics on the screen, blindly trusting Blake's interpretation.

"But wait, that's not all." Blake moved through the database, stopping on another equally confusing jumble of scientific scribbling. "See this string?" Blake touched the screen with his index finger. "What my predecessor accomplished was increasing the natural properties of venom that can make a person more susceptible to suggestions." Blake paused, searching for a word from long years ago. "I think the term is 'hypnogenic,' but I'm not sure."

"Mind control?" Kermit asked, picking up a familiar concept. His anger began to build.

"Yes, but it's the delivery that makes this special." Blake talked as he searched for the proper screen. "Anyone could kidnap you and pump you full of drugs to get intell. I don't think that's his goal. Here," Blake found a particular string of formulae, "this is DMSO, a detergent."

"Going to clean them into submission?" Miguel quipped, keeping a cautious eye on the door.

"Mercenary comedians. What a riot," Blake mumbled "This is the key. That compound, DMSO, is used to aid absorption through the skin. It's called transdermal absorption, like a nicotine patch."

"I don't get it." Kermit leaned forward, hoping to absorb some information he had missed. "Instead of injecting the venom, he sticks it on?"

"No," Blake shook his head. "Look at the notes the old guy left." Page after page of neatly typed words spilled over the screen, streams of random thoughts and ideas from a doomed chemist.

The goal blazed out of the screen from those words. Blake leaned back in his chair as the magnitude of Latrodect's plan made itself clear.

"He's delivering it through the water. Damn..." Kermit stared at the monitor, all questions being answered at once.

"That's right. Latrodect could inject his nasty little cocktail into the environment of a specific target, say the hot water system of a particular home, and influence that target's behavior any way he saw fit. The venom builds gradually in the system over a few days, making the target's mind vulnerable to any strong suggestions. Leaves little or no room for detection."

"He poisons the target, makes a phone call after a day or so and--" Kermit didn't finish his sentence.

"--and delivers whatever command he wants carried out." Blake let the first wave of information sink in, then added, "But, he's not quite there yet."

"What did he need from Dr. Rhodes?" Kermit said, still staring at the screen.

"Dosage and packaging," Blake answered. "That's the tricky part. To figure the correct dosage, you must factor in water volume at the site, estimated exposure to the target through ingesting water in food or drink and estimating numbers of showers or baths, physical characteristics of the individual, et cetera. Too little, no results; too much, dead target."

"He would have to monitor the victim during the process," Kermit said. Latrodect's previous commands were beginning to make sense.

"Yes. From the side effects discussed in these notes, profuse sweating is a telltale sign that the optimum level of saturation has been reached," Blake answered. "He could offer some innocuous suggestion to see if the subject would comply, then move on with his agenda. Nice, huh?"

Kermit pulled the hit list from his pocket. "You said 'packaging.' Packaging for what?"

"For sale. Latrodect's Handy Dandy Pharmacy." Blake put his hand back on the mouse and shifted to another screen. "Do you realize what could be done with this, Kermit? What organized crime boss or renegade military psycho wouldn't love to have an easy way to influence public officials to his way of thinking. It's temporary, it's clean, it's nearly undetectable unless the person has an immediate screening for toxins. If the target ends up dead from over exposure to the venom, there's no trail. Pest control might have a field day searching the corpse's house for spiders, but that's all."

The page sat heavy in Kermit's hand, burning the names into his palm.

Blake noticed the paper. "I'm supposed to calculate a way to estimate dosage so that he can run a test."

With Miguel standing over them, Kermit handed Blake the page.

"Damn..." He held the paper for a few seconds, feeling his own anger building. There, in deceptively civil black and white, were the test subjects:

Commissioner Thomas Kincaid
Mayor Angela Goldberg

Blake read the final name out loud. "Captain Karen Simms."

Snatching the page back, Kermit crushed it into an tiny ball and threw it across the room. "Here's the transmitter." He slapped his cell phone into Blake's hand. "I assume you brought the adapter?"

With one hand, Blake peeled off his wiry gray wig. Retrieving the eraser-sized cellular modem connector from behind his ear, he shed his undercover persona and set to work.

"Transmit the data and location and then we're out and the Feds are in. Once the transmission starts, Latrodect could be able to monitor us, so make it quick." Cellular transmissions were never secure and he knew it. But, it was the only option at their disposal. Kermit began to pace around the table, anxious to be free of this mission and scrape the residue of this life from his psyche...and flesh. The score would be even and he could let go of his memories of Latrodect and Emma.

Blake made the connection and dialed. "With this much data and this lousy fourteen-four connection speed, it should take about five minutes." Quickly typing a few more lines, Blake said, "I'm tacking the location onto the front of the transmission."

Miguel cleared his throat with a harsh rumble and drew their attention. Motioning with one finger, Miguel directed their attention toward the plain white wall at the back of the room.

Kermit moved slowly, jerking the Desert Eagle from his back. "You do nice work, Doctor," Kermit said, keeping up small talk. Blake kept his position to monitor the transmission while Miguel circled in the other direction. Reaching the far side of the small room, Kermit held his weapon high in his right hand and groped the deceptively smooth wall.

Finding a small outcropping, Kermit waited for Miguel to settle into position. He nodded a count of three then snatched the door open. Inside the hollow space of the wall was a small passage way housing a spy. Miguel's leathery paws reached through the opening to drag the eavesdropper out into the open.

Instantly, Kermit descended on a sniveling Emma Thorn.

"Please...please don't hurt me, Kermit. You don't understand.... I just...please help me." The woman's eyes were dripping with tears and her lips were trembling as the barrel of Kermit's gun bit into the flesh under her chin.

"You're always lurking around behind a man, Emma. That's no way to have a meaningful relationship." Kermit held firm, reading her every move. Her body was limp and would have slid to the floor if Miguel's fists weren't firmly wrapped around the collar of her blouse. There was no way to know what she had, or had not, heard.

Abject fear was written all over her. It was a new look for her.

"Kermit, I...I...think he's going to kill me...kill us." She was biting her lip, trying to control the shaking.

At Kermit's urging, Miguel released the woman and the detective stepped in closer. "How long have you been here?" He pressed the gun more tightly into her neck for emphasis.

"Not long. I had to come through the hidden passage. I was afraid Latrodect would find me." She touched his chest with a trembling hand. "I'm sorry I brought you into this. He's crazy. He'll kill us all when he has what he wants. He just came to me. I didn't know what he was planning. I can't live this way anymore...being owned by that man. I can't!"

"Maybe I should just call him in here and we can talk it over." He eased the gun away slightly.

Shock exploded across Emma's face. "But..." Her mouth gaped open as she gasped. "I thought I heard...before I came in...I thought you were...OH NO! Please don't kill me!"

Emma folded into herself and sank to the floor at Kermit's feet. "Please don't tell him I said this. You care, I know you do. I'm sorry about this afternoon. Too much wine. I'll do better. You won't be sorry. Please...I just wanted to leave... please..." Emma latched on to his knees, sobbing against the black fabric. Her begging was garbled amid more hysterical gasps.

She had turned once before, that night when she had torn a poisoned net off his body and saved his life. If she had turned again, Emma could be the crowning glory to any case against Latrodect.

"Go watch the door," Kermit said, looking quickly to Miguel then to Blake. "How much time, Blake?" With one hand, he began to haul Emma to her feet.

"Three more minutes." Blake was standing, shifting nervously from one foot to another as the seconds ticked by. "Go on without me and I'll catch up."

"This isn't some John Wayne movie, you moron," Kermit snapped as Emma finally reached his shoulder. "Cut the 'leave me behind to blow the bridge' crap." Turning his attention to Emma, he lowed his voice. "You want to be free? Truly free?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to help us take him down?"

"Yes, anything."

"You won't be with me after. I'll make sure you're safe, but it won't be with me, Emma. You have to understand that now. Do you?"

"I understand."

Kermit touched her face, the touch of a friend. "Good. We'll be ready to go in--"

"Two and a half minutes, Kermit."

Blake stood watch over the file as it squeezed its way from their presence to the Feds.

*****

A transparent heaviness seemed to coat his every move. Peter walked through his dreams with more deliberate steps than before his priesthood began. No longer did he run from the nightmarish visions that occasionally sought him out to play on his fears and regret. Now, things were different.

His bare back still registered the feeling of clean sheets. The reality of warm night air blowing from an open window painted his flesh. The fatigue he had felt before he'd gone to bed was still there. A late night visitor seeking his advice had stayed well past midnight. Peter's new vocation had no office hours. People came when in need, no matter what the hour. The reality of exhaustion, then release into sleep, lay behind him.

Vision registered something else. Peter opened himself completely to the dream, to the feeling.

Okay, Peter. Look around.

Walking slowly, Peter made his way through the darkness. He was dressed the way he had gone to bed, blue sweat pants and bare feet. In his dream, Peter was being portrayed accurately to himself. He wasn't a child frightened by explosions and separation. He wasn't a cop pursuing nameless, faceless criminals. Peter was himself.

Looking down through the film of darkness, the priest saw his forearms. The tiger and dragon rested there. Many times, in many dreams since the brands had seared themselves into his flesh, he had been free of them. But, here they were, darkened patches of art which had become part of his body.

A strange heat radiated from some point just out of Peter's line of sight. The warmth was familiar and grew in intensity as he moved forward. Not the gentle radiant heat from the sun. Not a comforting blanket or breeze. This heat fell flat against his skin. It struck his body in sheets of anger and rage.

Peter walked toward the sharp stinging heat faster and faster. He knew This burning rage, had felt it before. It had a name.

Kermit.

Peter moved with a determined strength. The heat battered him, slapping at him. Holding one hand in front of his face, he tried to reflect the heat away. His pace slowed. The pain grew.

He could not deny his fear. The brands simmered on his arms, becoming one with the blistering heat.

Think. There's a reason for this, Peter. Think. Be part of it.

Peter counseled himself, ordering his emotions. Kermit was here in this dream. The barely masked rage the ex-mercenary carried was battling against Peter's subconscious intrusion.

Peter began to absorb the waves of heat fighting his progress. This was Kermit reduced to element. His friend. His sometime partner. Kermit. Soldier. Husband. Father. Cop. Kermit who threw out sharp retort and outright lies to turn away exploration of his internal mechanisms.

Why am I here?

Looking more deeply into the distance, Peter could see nothing. A verdant darkness pulsed before him, holding...something...

Kermit?

No audible answer came, but a sensation responded. Bone chilling pain sliced through Peter's body, driving him to his knees. Sweat dripped from face, sliding down his chest. The beads of water sizzled against his fevered skin then evaporated in the heat.

Hands on the floor, Peter fought back. His own energy punched back at the pain, forcing the attacker away. Kermit was here. Not in line of sight, but in essence. The scent of a stale cup of coffee. The coffee always sitting on his desk. A car door slammed. A fist pounded and knuckles cracked against a jawbone. The sound crackled through the murky darkness.

Pain and heat and rage swirled around Peter Caine's body, confusing him, mocking him.

Kermit!

Now, he was on his back. He was inside the pain. A hand pressed into his neck, spearing him with a confusing white-hot sickness. The darkness pressed against him as a fiery suffering expanded through his body.

Betrayal. Failure.

Help me.

That was not his own voice. Peter heard another voice in the darkness.

Battle. Defiance. Death.

In the storm of rage, Peter felt one last touch of his friend.

Good-bye.

Peter's temple exploded in pain from an unseen blow.

Jerking awake, Peter sat bolt upright in his bed. He was home, free from the pain. The only remnants clinging to the present were sweat-soaked sheets and a pounding heartbeat slamming against his chest.

He moved in a blur. Getting out of bed, Peter tugged on his clothing from a pile on the floor. The clock said 9:00 a.m. Grabbing his keys, Peter left his loft in a trot--answering a desperate summons.

*****

"Two minutes." Blake continued his countdown, eyes fixated on the fading icon draining away on the screen. Miguel remained rooted to his spot at the door, listening as he gripped his weapon.

Emma had moved closer to the group and was perched on the edge of a table. "You're sending this to the police? Are they on their way to help us?" she asked, nervously fingering the cuffs of her blouse.

Kermit eyed the brunette cautiously over Blake's shoulder. She had calmed slightly in the past few seconds. "Once the transmission is over, we move. Don't slow us down or you're on your own."

Slowly, the skin on his neck began to prickle. Instinct rattled a warning in the ex-mercenary's brain.

Emma eased her long legs to the floor. Quivering terror that had lined her features began to give way to an acidic smile. Backing way, she lifted one wrist to her mouth. With a sensuous, taunting lick of her lips, Emma spoke directly into a polished button on her cuff.

"Did you get all that, Master?" Shining white teeth bared themselves like fangs.

"You bitch." Kermit cursed himself as he cursed Emma. His gun raised toward the woman. He wanted to fire, to blow her filthy head off her shoulders.

In the space of one second, paralysis closed around his body, dragging him to the floor. Nets fell from the ceiling, finding three targets.

Miguel cursed and thrashed briefly before he was taken by the silence.

Stretching through the stinging poison of his net, Kermit reached for Blake, who lay inches away. "Don't fight...Blake..."

Emma's voice, solidified with anger, rang out over them. "I've cut the transmission." The sound of his cell phone being snatched from the port and flung across the room punctuated their helplessness.

Latrodect's image stood over Kermit, obscured by the venomous grid of the net. The Desert Eagle lay still in his limp hand. Commands to his finger to grip and fire were ignored. "Griffin...you disappoint me."

Kermit tried to speak. Sound wrapped around his tongue, refusing to gel into words.

Crouching down over his prey, Latrodect said, "You know what they say, Griffin." He plucked Kermit's weapon through the net and handed it to Emma. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice--"

"FUCK you!" Emma screamed her frustration. The words echoed inside Kermit's mind as her pointed high heel shoe slammed into the side of his head.

Heated darkness closed around him, blotting out the painful reality of his own failure.

*****

The 101st was the same; Peter Caine was different. Even in his haste, he couldn't help but feel his visitor's status. New faces eyed him carefully, as they would any other civilian. An eager young man, dressed just one click above the other detectives, approached him then walked with him to the captain's office. The Blaisdell home had been empty when he had gone there to question Savannah again, so Karen was his next option for information.

Karen Simms was sequestered behind closed doors and Peter's escort hesitated. "Generally, Captain Simms doesn't care to be disturbed when her door is closed."

Peter read the anxiousness and uncertainty. "Don't worry, uh--"

"Detective Stewart," he said.

"Yeah, don't worry, Stewart. She's chewed off a sizable portion of my butt before. It heals...eventually." At the young man's puzzled expression, Peter tapped on the door.

"Come in and it had BETTER be worth it." Karen's welcome was irritable as she remained focused on a veritable mountain of paperwork. Her austere white blouse was wrinkled and open at the collar. Stray blonde hair waved around her face and she ineffectively shoved it back with her hand.

"Hold your fire," Peter said, holding up his hands and walking inside. "It's just a meddling civilian." Stewart had beat a hasty retreat, closing the door behind Peter Caine's back.

Karen raised her head and let loose a weary smile. "Right now, your civilian status could be in jeopardy." She slapped the folder in front of her closed and waved him toward a chair. "I've got two detectives AWOL and your replacement--"

"Stewart?"

"That's the one. He's jumpy as a cat and if I look at him for more than three seconds, he comes close to heart failure." Karen sat back in her chair, stretching tired shoulders. "What brings you here? You mentioned 'meddling.'"

"Is Kermit undercover for you, Karen?" Peter leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The nightmarish memory of Kermit reaching out to him echoed in him mind.

"No. He's not, Peter." The hurt was evident in her voice and expression.

"Are you sure? I understand having to protect a cover, but, trust me, I need to know." Peter watched for signs of deception. There were none.

"Peter, he's gone. I don't have a clue. Just gone." Karen looked him directly in the eye, trying to make herself clear. "I tried to talk to Savannah but she's gone to Memphis."

"No, she hasn't. I took her to Annie's house two days ago." Peter watched as Karen latched on to the new information. "She and Kermit were putting up a front with all those fights and his liaison with Emma Thorn at Delancey's. I don't know why, though. I know he's undercover and it's deep shit but that's all. I hoped you would."

Anger began to straighten the captain's exhausted slouch. "How do you know, Peter? What did she say?" The words snapped out angrily toward him. If there was one thing Karen Simms hated, it was being lied to by her own people...or anyone else.

"She didn't say a word. I just, well, I just know, okay?" Peter ran a nervous hand through his hair. "It's a new habit of mine, knowing things I'm not supposed to know."

Karen stood up and began to pace. "Well, that would make sense." She paced the ten feet across her office and back, mumbling. Peter thought he saw her lips form a bitten-in-half curse reserved for each of the missing detectives. "Blake's gone, too."

"Well, then, it's probably a safe bet he's with Kermit." Peter reached up to snag Karen's hand as she passed. The betrayal and anger bled down her arm and into his touch. He let go quickly as she sat down beside him. "I think he's in serious trouble, Karen. Where ever he is, they are, we need to find them."

Anger pulled back, allowing her concern to come to the forefront. "What kind of trouble, Peter?"

Her faith in his assumptions was comforting. "I can't tell for sure. But,I have the sense that if we don't get to him soon..." Peter held Karen's hand, an odd contact for the two of them. Karen Simms always maintained a professional distance with her staff. But he was no longer staff. He was something else, something part family, part retired-cop, part friend. The change had broken down the formal rules of protocol. "It must involve Latrodect for Kermit to use Emma as a cover for dropping out of sight."

"Last I heard, the government was on his trail. FBI and CIA." Karen squeezed his hand, then released. Comfort accepted and acknowledged. "I have couple of state department types who are still friendly and they've dropped a hint or two." Karen looked out across her desk, focusing on nothing but another lie. "I made a call when Kermit first dropped out of sight, hoping there would be word of someone new showing up on their radar, and my source--"

"Lied?"

"Evidently." The word was ice cold, foreboding serious trouble for the source of that faulty information.

"Kermit holds a grudge. If he had the chance to get even with Latrodect, I don't doubt he'd go for it." Peter knew how that whole business still ate away at his friend. Kermit would like nothing better than a rematch. "If you have any strings, Karen, now's the time to pull 'em."

"Just maybe..." Karen thought out loud, wheels turning noisily in her mind. Returning to her desk, she began to dial a number from memory.

*****

His blood was sizzling. It was the best term he could find to describe the feeling. Kermit kept his eyes closed, trying to gain some control over the chaos building inside his body. Latrodect's poison dulled his reactions,his reasoning.

Think. Wake up and think.

A sharp sting bit against his cheek. A hand. He felt the palm connect then the fingers brushed against his nose. The backhand swing connected once again. The return strike made more of an indention into his muddled senses, bringing him more aware of his surroundings.

Peeling his eyelids open, Kermit remembered his situation.

Idiot.

Latrodect's face filled his vision. A firm hand tangled in his hair and jerked his head upright. He was tied tightly against what felt like a metal rod mounted in the center of the room. Bands with the feel of seat belts bound his chest, waist, and legs. His lungs had precious little room to expand with air. Isolating one sense at a time, Kermit focused on the sounds around him.

Water. Running water. Breathing. Panting, no, gasping.

That sound was familiar. He had made it himself, more times than he cared to remember. It was dying, the sound of dying. Breath came in ragged chunks when its host was dying. Breath didn't care to waste itself on a dying man and began to ration itself until it abandoned him all together. Someone was dying, either Blake or Miguel. One of the two was dying somewhere off to his right in the direction of the running water.

Sharp blue eyes blinked at him and Latrodect's blonde hair smeared into an odd back-lit halo framing his face. "Nice of you to rejoin our cozy little family, Detective." The voice was pleasant and congenial, incongruously matched with the grip tugging against his scalp. "You've already missed the beginning of our festivities, but I'll bring you up to date."

As Kermit's head was shifted to the right, his vision began to clear. The sound was bouncing against concrete walls and floor. A locker room. From his vantage point, Kermit was staring directly into the stark white tile of the shower. The gasping was coming from Blake, strapped to a chair beneath a constant waterfall that pounded loudly into the room. Blake's short, gray hair was slicked to his head under the barrage of water. His head tipped forward in a futile defense against the shower spray. He was still breathing, mouth open and chest moving in and out with an irregular rhythm The bland costume Blake had selected for 'Dr. Rhodes' was soaked through to his flesh and drooped under the weight.

Don't die, dammit.

Miguel was still dry but trapped a few feet away, under the next shower head. His tanned face stared straight ahead, expressionless and solid, as he awaited his turn.

"Though our association didn't turn out as planned," Latrodect said into Kermit's ear, "it has yet been of service."

"I'm so glad." Kermit found words and shoved them out of his raw throat. The venom he had absorbed had, evidently, not been a lethal dose. It was wearing off. He wasn't supposed to die yet. There was time. Time was always good.

"After a very illuminating discussion with Detective Blake, I found out that my little band of scientific rebels is being tracked by not only the FBI but the CIA as well." Latrodect grinned like a fourth grader who had just won a spelling bee. "Quite an accomplishment for someone in my line of work, wouldn't you say?"

"You forgot to...add me to that...list and you're mussing my hair."

"Oh," Latrodect slammed his head into the iron pole and released, "sorry."

As his skull reverberated with the force of the blow, Kermit watched his captor move closer to the shower. "You see, Griffin, I always use my limited resources to their fullest. Since your little deception foiled my attempt to refine our product carefully, I've decided to employ the most basic of scientific techniques." Gesturing boldly in Blake's direction, he said, "Trial and error."

"Looks sloppy to me." Kermit swallowed deeply, gaining more control over his faculties. He had to think clearly. "Especially considering the fact that you're about to be overrun with feds."

In response, Latrodect began to laugh. Both knew it was a thin bluff at best. Blake had announced his placement of their location at the end of the transmission. The transmission had been cut. They were on their own.

"Shut it off," Latrodect yelled to Emma, who stood silently off to the side manning a water valve. Her face was hard, lacking pleasure or fury, as she twisted the metal wheel and stopped the flow of water over Blake's head.

"You see, Griffin, I'm going to taste test our concoction on your friends here. A little dose, a little request, and we'll see what happens." Slowly, Latrodect ran one finger down Blake's soaked lapel, then put it into his own mouth. Sucking the finger dry, he closed his eyes to savor the venom that was part of his own chemical makeup. "When I can convince one of these fine gentlemen to willingly put a bullet in your head, I'll have the right dosage."

"And if they won't?" Kermit said, flatly.

"She'll do it, "Latrodect responded with his still wet finger wagging toward Emma. He cast an evil smile at the woman, who focused her silent anger on Kermit, the source of her betrayal. "Do you know she defended you to the end? 'Oh, he'll pass the test, Master,' she said to me. Imagine her disappointment. You know what they say about woman scorned, Griffin."

"Yeah, she's a real bitch."

Reaching into his pocket, Latrodect pulled out a small silver pistol. "Detective Blake, please kill Detective Griffin."

Blake's eyes remained shut as his hand closed around the weapon.

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