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him. Artois has measured and studied, and caught up to us. I am not so unreasonable enough to pin this
blame on my office or its staff. I know we've got the best systems and programs, we've made all the
preparations to the best of our ability." He resumed his pacing. Gale turned and folded his hands before
him on the desk while Serge continued, "But we have no protocols for an attack at our own damn base,
no one is familiar with how to deal with any of this, and we are getting our arses handed to us. You'd
think we had better control and ability to manage the measly forty personnel of this department."
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"Discounting that a few units are out in the field," Gale reasoned quietly, then observed, "At least we
are learning what to work on; this crisis is good for something at least."
"Shut up," Serge said wearily, taking a seat behind his desk and drumming his fingers on the table. He
turned to address the room and commandingly said, "What we need at this point is a new strategy. So
far, what do we know?"
Arch, as usual, dared in his trademark languid manner to state the obvious, "Artois has gone into hiding,
he's covered his tracks, and we're unable to get a whisper of his whereabouts."
Falcon sat forward, folding his hands before him on the desk, adding to the list in clipped tones,
"Intelligence and street cameras haven't provided us a clue of where he went that day he made off with
Ghost. Our mite is negated."
"Artois has launched assaults upon our base," Snake contributed, looking particularly displeased about
this fact, "Which could or could not be from his base of operations, and which we are unable to confirm
as we've been unable to track the spies or catch even one of them." He glanced over to May.
"Attempts at infiltration have been well organised and fast," she said, "No attempts have attacked us in
the same way or with the same intent; I surmise he's testing for weaknesses." Ian shuddered at the
thought.
Nodding, Gale added, "He's also managed to evade us tracking Ghost's nano-mites, and we've no results
from satellite scans."
"He might be underground. Literally," Arch said thoughtfully, tapping his chin in a way that reminded Ian
of Kazuhi. "The only way to get a pin-point on him..." His expression cleared, the proverbial light-bulb
flashing on above his head. He turned and pinned Ian with his gaze, eyes dangerous, focused and
appraising as he said, "I think I might have an idea."
May groaned softly and Falcon rolled his eyes, sinking deeper into his seat when he murmured "Another
dangerous one, no doubt." Even Gale narrowed his eyes.
Ian noted everyone's tense posture, but the fact that none said anything against Arch directly
pronounced a few things to him. He leaned forward and with a voice hoarse from disuse and tears said,
"If there is a chance," Six pairs of surprised eyes swivelled around to him. He cleared his throat and said,
"I want to hear it."
They tossed him out of the room anyway.
When they finally let him back in, all their faces were tense and solemn, and Ian hated it. They explained
the plan, a simple one, really. Too un-fancy to have been the two hours' discussion it had taken.
"I think that's... the best we got," Serge said slowly.
"It's insane," Falcon interjected vehemently, abandoning what else he wanted to say at a stern look
from Gale.
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"It's actually quite logical." Ian paused at the expression in Falcon's eyes but said quietly, his voice
scratchy and hoarse, "I can't imagine he would be very patient after waiting and plotting all this time."
He turned to address Serge, admitting, "He's got to be annoyed and getting desperate but... quite
honestly, he will lose patience, and he might do something to Eileen or to... Ghost," he seemed
uncomfortable using the name. But he continued determinedly, "to either of them before long. I don't
want that."
"You would rather he do something' to both of you then?" Falcon said, incensed.
Ian turned to him, fire in his eyes and argued back, "I don't want to sit here and not do anything, that's
what is on my mind,"
Falcon scoffed, "So you want to play hero and "
"Falcon," Gale said softly in warning. Falcon glared but immediately quieted. He said to Falcon and then
Ian, "I can see your view on this, and yours. And frankly, Arch's idea makes the most sense at this point
whether we like it or not." To Serge, Gale gave his opinion, "Frost is also correct in that it would be best
to move quickly, at the soonest opportunity."
Falcon murmured, "You can't actually be seriously contemplating "
"I am and I will, Mr Falcon." At that dangerous tone of Serge's voice and more formal address, Falcon sat
down glowering, but said no more. "You don't have any better ideas, and no one else does either."
Arch shrugged in his usual casual way, softly saying, "We just don't have time."
*~*~*
Ian turned his face into the wind, closing his eyes and enjoying the noise of Central London. Outside at
last, he wanted to enjoy what little freedom he had for however long it would be, not knowing what
would happen next.
It had been three days of inaction, three days he had listened to useless arguments and sat through the
operations and whatever activities RIG had seen fit to put into action. And now, it was his time. Tucking
his hands deeper into his pockets, Ian walked slowly along with the crowd, ignoring the masses until he
arrived at Tower Bridge.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" A charity collection agent said cheerfully, her t-shirt calling for contributors to
support better living for orphaned children in Africa.
"Not really," Ian replied quietly, eyeing the lost expression of the child on her shirt.
"Aww, don't say that," the young girl played back, big plastic cheery smile in place, "Lots of people in the
world aren't as fortunate as you!"
"I'm pretty sure I'm in the same boat as they," Ian put back, "Not knowing if we're going to live to see
tomorrow or not." The girl started, her smile slipping, and he passed her on by.
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Slowly crossing the bridge, he admired the way the dusk lights reflected on the water of the Thames.
The descending darkness hid the filth, thankfully, and he watched as dinner boats sailed past. On the
other side, he stepped down a tiled staircase, artfully slanted, to a riverside walkway. Walking along, he
relegated the chatter of the crowds and bank-side restaurant patrons to the back of his mind.
Kazuhi.
He could just imagine how Kazuhi's hair would move in this wind. Noting a restaurant that displayed
good Italian food, he wondered if there would ever be a chance to take Kazuhi out to visit it. Inevitably,
Ian wondered, would there ever be a chance he could spend any time at all with Kazuhi?
Was it sane to wonder and think after a man he wanted desperately but had never even so much as
kissed?
A hand closed tightly on his shoulder and a stranger familiarly greeted him with his name, firmly leading
him away. As he walked, he desperately wished he would get the chance to at least tell Kazuhi how he
felt.
Everything after that was a blur.
He was taken away to a small speed boat, past a protesting harbour guard and several security men. The
boat was modern and superb, disgustingly fast and managed to out-manoeuvre pursuing jet-skis and
boats manned by both uniformed and casually-dressed officers. The pursuit was a quiet one, rather
subtle though fervent, and they did not draw much attention.
At Embankment, near Westminster, without protest he followed orders to disembark and accepted the
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