Angus McCoy sat in the sheriff's office the Monday after the break in at Ortiz's office ended the investigation that led him to Mason's killer.

McCoy sat looking at the note that came out of Mason's wallet. He'd been away for a week and no one removed it from the drawer.

"Carmelita," McCoy said. "C is for Carmelita. I'd never have guessed that. Have you gone missing too, lovely lady. Is the cause of all this intrigue in the wind too?"

McCoy gathered all the evidence and he would drop it off at the shop. Tag could hold it until Harry had someone collect it. He named the killer. Maybe Pak would be charged with Mason's murder one day.

"Sheriff, that Harry guy is on the phone," Eva said over the intercom.

"Thank you, Eva," McCoy said, picking up the phone. "Sheriff McCoy, are you answering my call or is this a coincidence, Harry."

"Tell me what you know McCoy?" Harry said. "Your message was disturbing to say the least."

"My car is packed. I figure to be in Chicago by tomorrow noon. Nice knowing you, Harry. I'm leaving what evidence is left at the shop with Tag. Everything that closed the noose around Pak has been stolen or destroyed, but I led you to his door. You can do whatever you think is appropriate."

"McCoy, I can't talk you into staying to finish this?"

"Finish what, Harry? There's nothing to finish. Someone has their thumb on the scale. Ivan is it. You know what's going on, but you aren't willing to tell me. No case goes this wrong without a lot of help. I can tell you who murdered Mason, but I can no longer prove it. The evidence has gone bye, bye. You know more about that than I do and I'm out of here. I can not say it's been a pleasure."

"It's complicated, McCoy," Harry said.

"Yes, it is, Senator. I did my best. The rest is up to you," McCoy said, hanging up the phone.

"I'm off the clock, Eva. Call your sheriff and tell him I'm giving him his office back. Bye," McCoy said, going out and getting into his car and driving away from the cove.

The hugs between Clay and Bill had an affection connected to them that was hard to miss. Clay brought Dylan with him to the university. When Clay left for the cove, he'd leave Dylan behind in the hands of the man who was responsible for much of what he knew about being a marine biologist.

It wasn't easy letting Dylan go with Bill for the summer. They'd truly be away from each other for the first time in Dylan's life. At almost fifteen, Dylan didn't want to leave his father. What he wanted was to learn all he could about movie making and the mysteries that could only be found in the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

Dylan had a plan and this summer's research trip fit right into it.

Bill was waiting for Clay and Dylan when they parked outside his biology wing at the university.

Clay was there for a few hours. He wanted to see the expansion of the biology wing with the new film lab Logan Warren designed. Once he'd see what he came to see, he'd return home alone.

His mentor and biology professor would give Dylan a tour of the university over two days. Then, they'd leave for the airport and fly to San Francisco, where Logan would be waiting for them. It was hard for Clay not to be excited for his son. Dylan was about to have a great adventure.

"I'll miss you," Clay said, when it was time to leave.

"Dad, don't start. I'll be back," Dylan said, tears filling his eyes.

He knew they'd never been separated in his entire life.

"I know," Clay said, unable to let go of their last hug. "You have a good time. Learn all you can."

Clay got into the Buick, backed out of the parking space and turned toward the exit. Clay didn't take his eyes out of the mirror. He memorized the picture of his waving son watching his car disappear. Dylan didn't move until the Buick drove out of sight. Bill stood silent and couldn't help but feel the love between father and son.

"We have a pool, Dylan. Would you like to go swimming?" Bill asked, thinking college boys all loved the pool.

"Mr. Payne, my father and I are in the Gulf of Mexico about half the time. I don't do swimming pools," Dylan explained. "It's a little like swimming in the bathroom sink."

A week after Angus McCoy left the cove for Chicago, Ivan was once more walked across the facility where he was being held. As usual, he had to wait for the door to open and a different man came in this time. This man looked familiar. Except the expensive suit and fifty dollar haircut made him almost unrecognizable, but Ivan would never forget Max.

It was hard for Ivan not to recognize the station chief from his days in Cambodia. Ivan remembered the last time he saw Max. He remembered the last words Max spoke to him. They were unforgettable.

"If we need you, I know where to find you."

For the first time since the trouble began, Ivan finally got it.

Mason was sent to talk to him, Mason was dead. The people who assured him they'd catch the real killer, went silent a while ago.

Ivan waited for the station chief to tell him what he came to say.

"I know you," Ivan said to break the ice. "Max? What are you doing in Tampa?" Ivan asked as his brain whirled around the implications that came along with Max.

"I'm here to see you, Ivan. I came as soon as I heard. I'm sure we can find a way out of the mess you've gotten yourself in."

Ivan wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry uncle. He'd been had and Max was the man who had controlled his every move for five years. Max owed Ivan to get him out of the last mess he'd gotten into.

"I had a lot of help, Max," Ivan said, knowing his former station chief wasn't there out of the goodness of his black heart.

"Yes, that's usually how it works. I'm the assistant to the director. As soon as he heard, he sent me to find a way to fix this. We want to get you home as soon as possible."

"That's what I'm looking forward to doing, once I find out why I'm here," Ivan said, knowing how the Company worked.

"I'm here to make all this go away, Ivan," Max said.

"How do you plan to do that?" Ivan asked. "Mason is dead. Can you resurrect him?"

"No. It was unfortunate where he died," Max said.

"OK. I'm listening. What will it take for me to be cleared in Mason's murder?" Ivan asked. "What will it take to get me home? What do you want, Max?"

"You always were clever, Ivan. I'll make this go away. How long have you been here, Ivan?"

"I don't know for certain. Two weeks, maybe it's closer to three."

"How long would you be willing to stay here, if you were cleared of Mason's murder?"

"You have a timeline in mind, Max?"

"Two months. If in two months, I could make sure you were free from prosecution in Mason's death, how would that be?"

"What's the catch. There's always a catch with you, Max."

"Like I said, perceptive. You wouldn't spend the two months here, you understand?" Max said, taking the chair across from Ivan.

"Where am I going for two months?"

"I need you, we need you, in Cambodia with your old friends. It's familiar turf for you. It'll require a minimum of training."

"I don't have any old friends in Cambodia," Ivan said curtly.

"You see, that's what I don't understand. You were so good at what you did for us. We were so fond of you, and yet, you think ill of us. We treated you like one of our own."

"I don't think of you at all, Max. I just wish I'd never met you. I'd never have seen Mason, and my life would belong to me."

"You never said thank you for your brother. We didn't need to give you Boris. We could have left well enough alone. You would have gone home empty handed. Out of the kindness of our hearts, we gave him to you. Have you no gratitude?"

"That bit of stupidity cost me five years of my life, and now I'm being manipulated into giving you more of my life."

"Ivan, we appreciate your talents. You can help us accomplish an important mission. No one else can lead us to a man who will be very valuable to us. Don't you feel honored to be able to help your country accomplish something this important?"

"Give me the bottom line. What am I doing in Cambodia?"

"We need you to bring Ken Ho out of hiding. That's all."

"Ken Ho. He's a peasant. What do you want with Ken Ho?"

"Gen. Kenji Khan is a wanted man. He is responsible for a lot of death and destruction. We've wanted him for a long time. He's a Khmer general. He's bad, bad man, Ivan."

"A general? Ken Ho? He was a humble peasant, intelligent and ... I wouldn't know where to find him. He always found me."

"Exactly. He had men who knew you on sight. When we sent you into the coffee house in Phnom Penh, he'd show up a half hour later. He asked for his men to keep an eye out for you. That's how he knew when you were there. He's a very bad man. Gen. Kenji Khan."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, you want to bring this general to justice. Is that what you want me to believe?"

"Exactly."

"Why is the Company interested in a Cambodian general?"

"We'll receive certain concessions that will give us free range in the region, if we turn Kenji Khan over to the Cambodians."

"If General Kenji Khan is the man I know as Ken Ho, I'm the bait to get him out in the open?" Ivan asked.

"That's one way to put it. I have a contact. It is for two months only. From June 15 to August 15, you work for me, or until Kenji Khan is in custody. As you can read here," Max said, putting a cluster of papers in front of Ivan. "Once the general is in custody, your obligations to us end. You come home immediately."

"What of Mason's killer. Isn't that of concern to you? I'd think you'd want the man who killed one of your people," Ivan said.

"We'll take care of that. I think I can persuade the powers that be that you are not in any way connected to Mason's murder. We have ways to ferret out the guilty party. As you see, the contract starts out with that stipulation. You sign it. I sign it, and we are in business for as long as it takes."

"What happens when I do your dirty work for you, and I come back, and I'm still on the hook for Mason?"

"We've spoken with Senator McCallister. He knows what's in the contract, and you are free to talk to him before you're on your way to Cambodia. We couldn't go back on this contract if we wanted to. Sign the contract and you'll never hear another word about Mason's death."

Ivan knew since Max came in the door that this had been worked out ahead of time. The relief he felt was only exceeded by the revulsion of betraying a man he'd known and respected. Whatever he'd done, it didn't make Ivan anxious to turn him over to these men.

They had him. They knew they had him. He knew they had him. They left him one way out of the murder charge.

"We won't cheat you Ivan. I'll stand by our part of the bargain if you stand by yours. At latest, you'll be home in August," Max said.

"And, one last thing. You won't bother me again," Ivan insisted.

"That was the senator's one contribution. It's two paragraphs from the bottom of the page where our signatures go," he said.

"This will be the last job we ask you to do. Oh, yes, there's a $100,000 reward for Kenji Khan's capture. That will be yours. You will receive the pay for your time in service. It's written in the contract. Substantially more than on your last tour of duty"

"Dead or alive?" Ivan asked for confirmation.

"Dead or alive," Max said. "We hope there's no violence."

"How appropriate. Thirty pieces of gold for betraying a friend. Where do I sign?"

Max leaned to sign first. He handed the ink pen to Ivan.

Ivan read each page and he signed next to Max's signature.

"There was nothing to it. Do what you're told, receive a 'get out of jail free' card."

Ivan had done what he said he'd never do. He'd sold his soul to the devil. There was no other way out.

"I would like a favor," Ivan said, as Max picked up the contract.

"I'll provide you with whatever I can. What's the favor?"

"I want Roland to go with me. Assign him to me so that he goes where I go. He answers to me, not your people."

"Roland? Our Roland? I don't see a problem with that. He'd need to agree to go," Max said with a pleasant smile.

Ivan got what he wanted and that told him the facility where he was being held was run by Max's people. Roland had been the one bright spot in his confinement. He trusted Roland.

"I want to go home before I leave for over there," Ivan said.

"Of course. There is a training program. It's been updated since you were last with us. That will take about ten days. Roland will go through it with you. You'll be ready to go by June 11 or 12. You can go home until you will be picked up to leave on June 15," Max said.

Ivan ran the obstacle course twice a day. At six in the morning and at three in the afternoon. He had refresher courses in Cambodian and French. He was given a brand new Glock. He was told it hadn't been released to the general public yet, but all overseas assets were being given the brand new 9mm precision action pistol.

Ivan was careful to only use his left hand when on the pistol range. In his room, he practiced with his right hand. It was an edge he wanted to keep secret. If someone knew his profile, they'd believe when he went for his gun, he'd be using his left hand.

Ivan prided himself on using either hand to do things that required a good deal of skill. He liked being ambidextrous. His brother, Boris could box from a right handed stance or he could box left handed to confuse his opponents.

It was Boris that showed him he could master tasks using both hands, but it only gave you an advantage when the opponent didn't know you could use either hand. Few people knew Ivan had that skill.

The new rig that went with the Glock, had softer leather that facilitated a quick draw. Ivan could position it so he could reach for the pistol effectively with either hand. The pistol was lighter and easy to manage. It was more accurate than the original gun they gave him.

This was the part of his training Ivan paid the most attention to. He was already good with the gun, but if he really focused, he'd get better. Instinct told him that he'd need to be on top of his game if he hoped to come back from Southeast Asia alive this time.

Ivan practiced with the gun in his room at night, so he could easily reach it with either hand and be ready to fire in the blink of an eye. At the firing range with other assets eyes on him, he took his time and he hit the target most of the time. He was good enough at the target range, but he practiced getting to the gun with either hand, in the privacy of his room at night. He'd save that ability for a time and place when it would do him the most good.

Ivan read Gen. Kenji Khan's dossier each evening, once he tired of practicing with his new pistol.

He told himself as he read, this is the CIA's version of the man. He's a stone cold killer who inflicted incredible pain on his own people. Ivan squared this circle with the keenly intelligent compassionate man he met at a Phnom Penh coffee house. They'd spoken often about philosophy and history.

In this day and age, the wrong words from the right source could ruin you in an instant. People who represent themselves as being in the know could destroy a fine person's reputation with a few well placed lies that would discredit an enemy they sought to destroy.

Ivan could smile when remembering the man he admired. He regarded Ken Ho his friend and anyone could write stories that made someone look bad. The truth was often different than the distortions.

Yes, Ken Ho had the bearing and posture of a military man. When he came into the coffee house, he always seemed to know when Ivan was there, he came in with a group of men who fanned out around the room.

They could have been with Ken Ho. They could have passed for soldiers. Ivan didn't ask if they were with Ken Ho. It wasn't an issue. He enjoyed conversations with the wise intelligent man who was drawn to Ivan because of how unique he was for Phnom Penh.

Ken Ho admired Ivan's ability to communicate in Cambodian, even if they mostly spoke English or French. He admired Ivan's simple taste. For Ivan, Ken Ho was the only friend he'd allowed himself, in a den of intrigue and suspicion. Ivan hadn't changed his mind.

Mason spent some time grilling him on what the Cambodian peasant had to say. It was the one man Ivan didn't speak honestly about. What they talked about was between them.

The man Ivan knew as Ken Ho was not a vicious man. Ivan looked into his eyes and he felt the easy going nature of the man. He listened to his words and they moved him.

A soldier, perhaps, a stone cold killer, never, he thought.

Ivan knew men by the time he arrived in Cambodia. Ivan knew he couldn't trust the men who he answered to. These men were the cat to his mouse. They trapped Ivan like a mouse.

They knew Ivan would be useful. If he didn't do what they told him, his future was in peril.

Ken Ho was kind and gentle man. His handlers were brutes.

Ivan was cautious with what he told these men. He never told them everything. A wrong word, and a man might go missing and never be seen again. He was sure of it. That kept him cautious.

He learned to listen carefully, and he answered his handlers' questions just as carefully. He might have been trapped into working for them, but he didn't have to become them. He kept his humanity.

Ivan was trapped again. To get his life back, he had to do whatever they asked him to do.

Ten days passed fast. Ivan kept himself in shape, but now he was more so. He had his new pistol and it was a precision instrument that was lighter with a faster action. It was deadly in the right hands. Roland was a pleasant surprise. Ivan expected Roland to lag behind on the obstacle course, and being a big man, he did slow a bit toward the end of a run. By the time they ran the obstacle course the final time, Roland stayed close to Ivan all the way to the end.

They'd both gotten into better condition.

By some inner intelligence, Roland knew why Ivan wanted him with him. Few people wanted Roland around for long. He was there to protect Ivan from harm. That suited him fine. The one thing Roland was good at, was protecting someone from harm. Because of his size, the majority of people kept their distance. Because Ivan acted like he liked having Roland around, Roland liked being around.

Roland went with Ivan to the target range, but he wasn't armed. Ivan's contract stipulated, that he was to be armed at all times, except when he slept, and then the pistol should be close enough to grab.

His life would be in danger while he was in Cambodia. This assured they were concerned that Ivan complete the mission successfully and return safely to the cove. Ivan wasn't fooled.

Ivan wasn't sure where the danger would come from, when push came to shove.

Ivan was driven from the Company facility to the cove once he passed his final exam. Roland would stay in Tampa to get ready before they flew off to Cambodia to take care of business.

Ivan had the driver leave him at the driveway to the Conservancy, and he walked down to Clay's lab. The front door was locked. No one was inside when he peered into the lab.

Ivan went out to the Gulf and walked up to the back of the Conservancy house. When he stepped into the kitchen, Mama dropped the sauce pan she was about to put on the stove.

"Ivan!"

"In the flesh, Mama. Clay?"

Mama came to hug Ivan and kiss his cheek.

Luckily the hug was a simple affair and she didn't put her hands up near his shoulders and the gun before the hug ended.

"You look OK," Mama said. "Is it... are you?"

"Free as a bird, Mama. Where'd your son get to, Mama. He's not at his lab. I thought he might be here."

"I suspect he's at your house. Dylan's gone for the summer. Clay's been moping around since he left. You're not home for long?"

"Right again, Mama. I leave the 15th, but I look forward to having a couple of your meals before I leave. I've been waiting to get home to get some of your cooking. I'll be back for dinner. I better go cheer up your youngest son right now. Today, I have to tell him I can't stay."

"He doesn't like that you're leaving, but the senator talked to him about it and he understands there's a little more pain before you'll come home for good."

"Mama, you know more about my business than I do," Ivan said.

"Clay talks at dinner. You're always on his mind. He's been really depressed since they took you. He let Dylan go away without him. He's been fairly quiet since he left. Without Dylan here, the house is like a tomb. That kid is never still for long."

"I'll do what I can, Mama. See you at dinner," Ivan said, walking back to the beach.

Ivan stopped to take off his shoes. He wanted to feel the cool sand on his feet. He stood to admire the Gulf he loved.

Ivan went in the kitchen door and slowly climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Clay was in bed. The sun hadn't come around to the back of the house yet. The curtains billowed out into the bedroom on a pleasant morning breeze.

Ivan couldn't resist climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around his love.

"Oh, my, the man of the house is home," Clay said, turning over with a yawn.

He threw his arms around Ivan. He felt the Glock under the light windbreaker.

"I can explain," Ivan said. "Don't go into a tizzy."

"With you in my arms, never. Harry told me. He had something to do with it, but he wouldn't say what," Clay said, kissing Ivan's face and pulling off his shirt, once Ivan wiggled out of the rig for the pistol.

"I love you so much," Clay said, kissing his face.

"What did Harry tell you about it?" Ivan asked between kisses,

"What happened to your body? You're hard as a rock."

"I'm with you, Babe. I'm always hard when I'm with you."

"Not your equipment, your body," Clay said, feeling Ivan's chest.

"Prison living, I guess," Ivan said.

Clay kissed his chest. They were lost in their passion after that.

For the rest of the day, they were in various stages of making love, sleeping, and crying in delight. They both knew it was a temporary state of bliss, when they could do what they wanted, finally able to reach each other, after too long.

Clay went downstairs at about three to bring up the iced tea Mama brewed for him the afternoon before. They lay against the many fluffy pillows and sipped tea while holding hands.

Clay put ice cubes in the middle of Ivan's chest and drank the melted cubes. Ivan took Clay's glass and put it on the nightstand beside his pistol. They made love for the third time, or maybe it was the fourth.

Who was counting?

Love was grand and they'd let tomorrow take care of itself. Today, they were together and in love.

No one was going to interrupt them.

Ivan still kept listening to hear Dylan coming into the kitchen. He was ready to leap out of bed, and move the gun out of sight before putting on his underwear to get decent so Dylan didn't need to deal with the idea his two father's needed to make love.

He knew Dylan was thousands of miles away, but he still wanted to protect him from things other people believed might harm him.

At five, after showers and more iced tea, Ivan spent a period of time watching Clay nap. Being apart made his feelings grow stronger. He didn't know how to explain his love. He was glad he loved Clay. He knew his love would last until the end of time, but he couldn't be sure how much time he had left.

Opening his eyes, Clay leaned to kiss Ivan.

"I can't believe you're here. I've missed you so much."

"I've got three days. I leave the 15th," Ivan said.

"I know," Clay said. "We don't need to dwell on that now."

"Just what did Harry tell you?" Ivan asked, suspicion in his voice.

"He made them put in the contract that you are never to be bothered by those people again. You're going to help them catch a really bad man. Something about him killing his own people. By what Harry said, they could make Jesus sound like a gang leader."

Ivan wasn't going to discuss his doubts with Clay. Harry knew more than he was saying and he was telling Clay what he thought he needed to hear. There comes a time when you can't afford to trust anyone. Ivan calculated he needed to consider Harry as suspect. He'd signed a contract under duress. They put him in a box and he'd either play ball or they'd destroy his life. They knew it. He knew it. He was never sure what Harry knew.


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