Peter Caine returned with his coffee and his friend's Coke in hand. Reclaiming his well-worn cushion in the ICU waiting area, he watched the ladies' room door. Savannah was running on frayed wires. True to his vow totake care of Kermit's wife, he hoped she'd surrender and lie down for a while.

Staring at the door and checking his watch, Peter mumbled, "What's she doing in there?" Walking over to the door, he tapped lightly. "Savannah? Are you okay in there?"

No answer.

Breeching the sanctity of the ladies room sanctuary, Peter cracked the doorand called once more. "Savannah?"

Alarms sounding, Peter flung the door wide, finding only empty space.

"Shit, shit, shit!!!" Peter cursed his gullible failings. *Kermit will barbecue me!*

Pouncing at the nurses behind the ICU desk, Peter shouted, "Where did she go? Mrs. Griffin...did you see her?"

"Yes, sir," one young blonde nurse replied. Smiling eagerly at her chance to be helpful. "She left by the stairs a few minutes ago."

"Damn that woman!!!" Running for the stairs himself, Peter dug in his pocket for his keys. No keys.

"Where are my damn keys??!!" Peter raged on his way down the last flight of stairs. Stopping dead on the landing, reality swung by to slap him in the face.

"SHE PICKED MY POCKET!!!" the detective bellowed to the echoing space surrounding him.

Damning Kermit for teaching his wife his own tricks, Peter yanked his cellphone to life in an attempt to cut Savannah off before she could reach her flight to Florida and out of his protection.

*****

"Flight 614 now boarding at gate 12!" came the grating announcement over the loudspeaker. Savannah continued to scan the crowd. She'd promised. She didn't know how reliable Vanessa was but Paul Blaisdell had told her that her word was her life - if you coaxed a vow from her, you could believe it. Given this qualified endorsement, Savannah felt Vanessa could be trusted. But she was nowhere to be found, leaving Savannah at the airport as promised and on time, fretting, worrying and pacing. *Where in the hell are you?*

"Ma'am?" An annoyingly attentive flight attendant tapped her on the shoulder. "You really should board now. If you're waiting for someone, I'm sure they'll be along soon."

"Just a few more minutes," she answered and checked her watch. She had three minutes to spare, at the most. And if Peter Caine got to her before she got to the plane, this entire trip could be a wash. That earned a brief, two-second smile. Remembering something else, Savannah strolled to the desk.

"Ma'am, could you do me a favor?" The bright attendant nodded helpfully and accepted the set of car keys Savannah offered. "Would you call the 101st precinct and leave a message for a Detective Peter Caine after my flight leaves?"

"Certainly. What type of message?" The young woman grabbed a pen.

Chuckling in spite of the gravity of her situation, Savannah replied, "Tell him you have his car keys." The vision of Peter Caine scouring the airport parking lot for his Stealth was the stuff of cartoon humor. Furious would be the kindest way to describe his reaction. Dinner, when this nightmare was over, would probably fix it. *Feed him...he'll shut up,* she reasoned with optimistic confidence.

Nervously, she checked her watch again.

She could have just flown on ahead of her but she reluctantly admitted that she needed Vanessa. If anyone could change Jim's mind, she could. Bending people to her way of thinking was her specialty. Well, one of them. "Come on, Vanessa. Don't let me down," she whispered to no one as she once again searched for the familiar aristocratic profile and carriage. "Please don't let me down." She began to sniffle back a tear that was threatening as she thought once again about what was at stake.

"If I were a snake, I could have bitten you, dear," came the gentle reply to the outspoken plea. Whirling to face her husband's ex-wife, Savannah shot back, "That's not the least bit funny!"

"I know. I apologize," Vanessa replied, smiling and allowing her friend to soak up her new persona.

Vanessa was dressed from stem to stern as an official representative of the United States Air Force. She was sporting tailored dress blues, complete with decorative braided awards, black patent pumps and hair twisted in a less-than-attractive bun.

"What are you supposed to be?" Savannah gaped at the spectacle of the flamboyant spy confined in a uniform of any kind. Regaining her composure, she angrily demanded, "Did you have fun watching me sweat, Vanessa?"

Swallowing a sharp retort in the face of an obviously frantic woman, Vanessa answered the pointed questions. "Major Vera Sommers. Military Intelligence, Oxymoron Division." She took Savannah's hand for a humorously formal handshake. "AND...I was watching to be certain that no one had followed the hysterical rantings you've left in your wake. Begging and crying to get that C.O. to deliver your message? Really! And I can only guess the scene you made at the hospital."

Savannah bit down on her tongue to stifle the fury that bubbled. Through clenched teeth gleaming in a forced smile, she replied, "Do forgive me but I believe that my husband's eminent loss of a vital organ at the hands of some mysterious assassin deserves a fret or two."

"Okay, enough of the snide remarks. People will start to think we're related." She could absorb the fear and desperation coming from the younger woman. "Let's board and we'll talk."

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Savannah nodded and agreed. Accepting the comforting arm around her shoulder as they passed the gate and down the tunnel to the runway. The stewardess, holding back an impatient, long-suffering sigh, took their tickets and escorted the two on board when the door shut behind them.

"Oh, my God!" Savannah moaned.

Vanessa cocked her head in puzzlement as she led the younger woman to their seats. Seeing that Savannah was displaying the grace of a robot and correctly interpreting the reaction as fear, she dropped into the seat next to the window, made Savannah sit next to her and closed the window shade. "I take it you're not a fan of flying," she remarked.

Savannah closed her eyes. *Another one,* she thought, gripping the armrests. She would endure this flight only for Kermit but that didn't mean she had to like it. It wasn't fair that the entire free world had flown a thousand times before and didn't think a thing of it whereas she had a terrible time just making herself get on an airplane.

"Dear," Vanessa's voice came from beside her, "fasten your seatbelt. You'll feel a lot safer."

Savannah reluctantly opened her eyes to find the seatbelt and fastened it securely around her waist. She sighed - strangely enough, she did feel a little better. She knew it was something about exerting a bit of control over something that she viewed as uncontrollable but she didn't care right now. A cool burst of air hit her from above, cooling the nervous perspiration away from her forehead.

Vanessa brought her arm down from where she had adjusted Savannah's air. "Now, then, on to business," Vanessa's crisp voice startled her. "We must in essence kidnap Jim if he's not willing to go. How do we do that? Glad you asked - he's in the military. He has to follow orders. Soooo, we create said orders."

"Can you do that?"

"Of course," Vanessa said. "I hate to be overly critical since I know you're not in the business, but, dear, you went about this whole thing the wrong way."

"Oh?" Savannah was more curious than insulted. "Please enlighten me. I'd love to know how agents work!"

Vanessa smiled. "Gladly! Mistake number one: you told him the truth. Never, never, *ever* tell them the truth unless as a last resort. Number two: you're a civilian. If you want something from an organization, the best way to get what you want is to be one of them. Number three: you're a female. Unfortunately, it's still a man's world. If you're a female and you want something from a man, you must either ply him with sex or pretend a man told you to do it. We're choosing the latter."

"Thank goodness."

"This time." Vanessa's eyes twinkled. "I don't think we really have time for a slap-and-tickle for this mission. So, meet Colonel White."

Taking the thick wad of papers, Savannah asked, "Who's Colonel White?" She paged through the thick document and could barely understand one word.

"A figment of my imagination," Vanessa said. "That's another bonus to claiming you were sent. They can't yell at you. We'll just throw a ton of paperwork at them, claim we were ordered to do so and get while the getting's good. By the time they actually read the documents, little Kat should be a grandmother."

Savannah sat back, barely noticing as the plane took off down the runway, propelled itself in the air and leveled off at 20,000 feet. She had to admit that Vanessa seemed to know what she was doing. But she couldn't help but be curious about one thing. "Tell me, are the rules the same for male and female operatives?"

Vanessa laughed out loud. "Oh, you mean the 'ply with sex' method? No, dear, the rules are very different. A male agents rarely ply a woman with sex to get what they want. In the first place, women are rarely in authority and, in the second place, women in authority bend more to men who *don't* treat them as sex objects. With men dealing with other men, the rule is 'if you want something from a man, you have to intimidate better than he does.' I'm sure you're aware that Kermit never had a problem with that one."

"What part do I play in this little charade?"

"They shouldn't ask you because you're not in a uniform," Vanessa answered, "but if they do, just tell them that you're a 'civilian advisor' and that you're not allowed to talk about it. Hopefully, it won't come up."

"Why wouldn't he be willing?" At Vanessa's uncomprehending look, Savannah elaborated. "You said 'since Jim's not willing, we'll have to kidnap him.' Why on earth wouldn't he be willing? Why would he send this piece of...piece of...."

"I don't know," Vanessa responded neutrally. "I never got any hints that Jim was angry at Kermit. But I'll find out AND I promise you that he will come back with us even if I have to drag him back in chains."

The mental picture of that made Savannah smile slightly. "Vanessa," she whispered, trying to choke down another round of emotion, "something is terribly wrong here. Something in addition to someone trying to kill Kermit."

A firm believer in woman's intuition, Vanessa asked, "Tell me."

"I can't quite put my finger on it. It's like there's something floating just out of my grasp. One missing piece to the puzzle." She clamped down her eyelids to calm the dizziness of worry. "When I was with Kermit in the ICU...for those brief moments...I don't know...."

"Aren't you afraid of the assassin going after Kermit in the hospital?" Vanessa interrupted.

Savannah swallowed nervously. "Yes. But there, he's got Peter there to watch out for him." Savannah just hoped that Peter wasn't still searching for his car. She gripped the armrests again.

"Try to relax, dear, and enjoy the flight," Vanessa comforted. "We'll put the puzzle together and that grating ex of mine will be back on his feet in no time." Vanessa patted the other woman's hand as both worried about Kermit Griffin's fate.

*****

Major James Hellstrom practically leaped out of the plane that he landed at McDill Air Force Base, flushed with his success. It was an interesting challenge to work for Research and Development at SOCCENT, or Special Operations Command Central, off the northwest coast of Florida. The locale was challenging enough, to begin with, since Florida's changeable weather made flying interesting at best and nearly suicidal at worst. Thrown in with unpredictable strong winds, thunderstorms and the like was a plane that could malfunction at any time in a way that he couldn't possibly imagine until it happened. One incident found Jim without an engine when he tried a simple roll maneuver. It turned out that certain hydraulics and other machinery had been sacrificed in order to beef up the weapons and guidance systems. *Well,* the major reflected, *that's what comes with the shiny gold leaves.* That was also the reason they had taught him to land a plane in the ocean. He! 'd made it down, too, without bailing out. The plane was even in one piece. But then, he knew he was good.

He groaned slightly, though, as he walked stiffly to the complex. He'd been in a plane for so long, it took a while to learn how to walk again. Stretching, working the kinks out, he entered the px and waved greetings at his coworkers as he passed them by on the way to his mailbox. His new orders should be in by now and maybe there was a memo or a call-in waiting for him....

He rounded the corner and groaned. There were roughly about one thousand bits of mail stuffed in one small box. Jim surveyed the mess critically, wondering how in the world he was going to salvage half of it and have them remain in one piece when a lieutenant j.g. came around the corner. "Major Hellstrom?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Colonel Shank wants to see you. Right now."

Jim groaned again. All he wanted to do was to shower, shave, sleep, eat, or any of the other minor necessities he liked to do after a long flight. From the sound of things, he was in for about an hour lecture or debriefing about another mission. *Give me a break,* his mind protested as he dutifully followed the lieutenant j.g. back to the commander's office. As much as he hated to admit it, even he needed some down time. Maybe even time to have a few beers, get slapped by a girl or two....

He forced his mind back to present time as he stood in the outer office, waiting for his C.O. After about ten minutes of staring at the same photographs, medals and awards that he'd seen thousands of times before, the door opened.

Turning around, Jim saw an expression that he wasn't used to seeing on Colonel Shank's face. It was a look of disguised frustrated anger. *Uh oh,*Jim thought, realizing that this wasn't some typical lecture or mission. He just hoped that he wasn't the one that caused the look on his C.O.'s face.

"Hellstrom!" Shank barked in his brassy Texan accent. "Good. You have new orders."

Jim held his breath, waiting for the second shoe to drop. There was something highly irregular about this whole situation....

"You will accompany the Major to your next assignment," Shank continued. Jim looked around but no mission briefing portfolio was in sight. As if reading his thoughts, Shank said, "The Major will brief you on the way. This is a high-profile, TOP SECRET mission. You leave immediately."

Jim's jaw dropped in surprise. As he was about to protest - i.e., in the military, it was actually bargaining for more time - another shock greeted him that floored him more than the first one did. The Major walking out of his C.O.'s office was his MOTHER!!!

Major Vera Sommers walked crisply to him. "Major," she said with a nod. "We must leave immediately. Thank you, Colonel."

The Colonel grunted and turned away to go into his office. To save Jim from the confused stuttering that was sure to follow, Vanessa nodded again and set off down the hallway. Jim, after a moment, followed quickly behind her, mind racing. He knew who she worked for. Was this a mission for her, to infiltrate the Air Force? If so, why endanger her cover by presenting herself to the Air Force officer who knew who she was? The answer to that was obvious. She needed his help for something. So desperately that she'd conned a way to get him assigned to her! That was unbelievable to him. He never knew that she'd had the clout-

His thoughts were interrupted as she walked down the steps to a waiting car. Looking around, he figured that it was fairly deserted so he whispered urgently, "Would you mind telling me-?!"

"Just get in the car."

He blinked; her voice was like ice. Hard, brittle, and cold. She was pissed at him. He couldn't understand why. He had thought they'd made remarkable progress at the new relationship of mother and son. Sure, they had some ways to go yet but nothing to warrant this.

Vanessa gestured at him to get in the back as she reached for the door handle of the passenger side to the front side. Opening it, she spoke to the occupant inside. "You drive." Barely waiting for the other person to slide over, she slid in and slammed the door behind her.

Jim opened the door, got in and received another shock. "Savannah?!?!" He couldn't believe it but there she was. His stepmother, at the wheel, was staring - no, GLARING! - at him as though he was a mass murderer.

"Drive," Vanessa told her and Savannah reluctantly faced forward, put the car in gear and began to drive away.

"What-?" Jim started, now totally confused.

He was interrupted by his mother, who reached in the back for a duffel bag and brought it to the front seat as she snapped, "Don't you-! You just stay right there, Buster, until we get to Sloanville! I don't believe you-! You little shit! I just can't...oof! Face down, you...you...umph! I have to get out of this thing before it strangles me...."

Jim was about to protest at the angry words but had to turn away as Vanessa was struggling to change out of the Air Force uniform right there in the front seat! The hat was thrown to the back seat (Jim was sure she'd aimed it to hit him) and the long, blonde hair was released from its tight bun. The rest was a blur as he discreetly looked away. "What are you talking about?!" he demanded, looking out the back window, half expecting the MP's to follow. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!"

"You've got a lot of nerve asking that!" Savannah snapped back, throwing another glare over her shoulder. "After all he went through for you...and you treat him like this!"

"WHAT???" This wasn't working. He was becoming more and more confused. "Tell me what you two are talking about!! What are you doing here, anyway!??"

"I'll show you!" The car swerved dangerously as Savannah groped angrily in her purse on the floor.

"Savannah!" Vanessa protested, struggling with her pantyhose. "Watch where you're going!"

The incriminating note now gripped firmly, Savannah brought it out and threw it viciously at her stepson. "THAT is what this is about! Just suppose you explain that to us?!!"

Jim unfolded the crumpled-up note and read it. "I didn't send this," he finally said, baffled.

Savannah was too locked into her rage to hear the denial as Jim stared in horror at the note that had just landed in his lap. Her tone now switched to a pleading rhythm. "Jim...if you won't help us for Kermit's sake, do it for Kat. I don't care if you don't feel anything for him, but you can't let Kat grow up without...she just can't lose her father!"

"Wait a minute! Of course I care....Hold it! Just hold it a minute!" Jim shouted back in his defense. "First of all, *I* never sent this. My God! How could you think I'd say something like this to you?!!" In a quiet tone, dreading the answer, he asked, "What's happened to him?"

Both women looked back at him. "You...you didn't send this?" Savannah stammered.

Jim looked at the date and time and shook his head. "At 1500 hours, I was halfway to Cuba! I didn't send this. I've never seen it before and I still don't know what the hell this is about!"

The two women looked at each other, now confused themselves. "But who could have-?" Savannah asked.

Vanessa, straightening her red silk dress, perused her son thoughtfully. "You don't know anything about what's happened to Kermit, do you?"

"NO! Will one of you tell me what the hell is going on??!! What happened to my-" He shut off the identification that jumped to mind and changed in mid-sentence, "-Kermit?"

Vanessa told him gently as Savannah faced forward, gripping the wheel.

Jim absorbed the news stoically, although his emotions were a different story. He let the shock wear off as he slid a comforting hand over his stepmother's shoulder. "I'll do whatever I can to help him, Savannah. Really, I will. Even if we were at odds, which we're NOT, there's no way I'd let him die if I could prevent it."

Reaching over with one hand to give his hand a quick pat, Savannah remained silent to avoid the emotion that threatened to spill out of her eyes at therelief she felt. Despite the urgency of their 'mission', she was happy. Happy that Jim had not betrayed Kermit. Happy that Jim was going back with them to save him. Everything was going to be all right now.

Then the realization of conspiracy began to take shape. "But, Jim, why would that Colonel Shank not give you the note in the first place? Who is he?" The thought that Jim's superior could be involved in a plot to kill his father was even more frightening than Jim denying help.

Colonel Shank was red, white, and blue honor to his bones. Jim couldn't believe that he would be part of anything as vile as a murder. "You actually spoke to him, Savannah?"

"Yes. And I had a dreadful time understanding that New England accent, too," she said, wrinkling her nose. "And people say I talk funny."

Vanessa and Jim looked at each other with light bulbs in their eyes. "Savannah," the ex-Mrs. Griffin said excitedly, "the illustrious Colonel Shank is from Texas. A twang that grates equally but from another part of the country."

Jim shook his head. "This is just getting better and better."

"Jim...." Vanessa was at a loss for words. "Jim...I-"

"That's all r-"

"Please do not interrupt," Vanessa said primly. "James...I haven't really known you that long but that is still no excuse. I should have known, even with the brief time that we've spent together, that you weren't responsible for that horrendous note. I apologize, dear."

Jim reached over and squeezed his mother's hand comfortingly as Savannah, still holding the wheel in a death-grip, whispered with emotion, "Me, too, Jim. Please forgive me...."

Jim grinned acceptance at their near-tearful apologies, keeping his tone light. "Let's just go save my dad, huh?"

"Yes," Savannah said with a smile, "let's just go save your dad-"

An explosion rocked the car, nearly tipping them over. Savannah couldn't suppress a small scream as she fought the wheel for control of the car. Winning, but only by a fraction, the car stayed upright as it crashed into a wall.

"Out of the car!" Vanessa yelled, grabbing Savannah's arm and dragging her out on the passenger's side.

"What was THAT?!" Savannah screamed as Jim clambered out. They huddled for safety on one side of the car.

"Who the hell ARE they?" Jim shouted back, wishing he had a firearm. They were sitting ducks and all of them knew it.

Only Vanessa had a gun. She drew it, scanning the area cautiously.

"Careful-" Jim began to caution, only to have Vanessa shoot him an irritated glare.

"Young man," she retorted, "I don't even want to think about how many years I have been doing this-" She broke off, ducking swiftly as a hailstorm of bullets rained down on them.

Savannah, closing her eyes and desperately praying, huddled as close to the front tire as she could. Jim, in a move that eerily copied one that his father might have done had he been there, covered her small frame with the bulk of his body to protect her. Vanessa touched her son's back briefly as she hissed "Stay down." Then, with astounding grace for one on four-inch high heels, she eased over to some boxes that would provide her adequate cover and would enable her to get a better overview of the area. Her ploy was unsuccessful as they saw the brief flicker of movement and opened fire, causing Vanessa to drop down next to Jim and Savannah.

Vanessa cursed softly in some foreign language as Jim glanced up worriedly. "How are we going to get out of this?" he asked desperately.

Vanessa was looking around for some boxes or something else that she could shoot as a distraction, well aware that she only had four bullets left in her gun, when she suddenly sniffed the air around them. Jim and Savannah recognized the familiar, sickening scent as well. As one, they looked at each other.

"RUN!" Vanessa shouted as the gasoline fumes rose up toward them. The trio made a desperate run for the buildings about ten yards away from the car, still keeping the car between them and their assailants for protection, when a bullet finally accomplished their worst fear. All three were tossed to the ground with the force of the car exploding around them.

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