Two miles away from the resort where they were staying, the Navy communication base received a message.

Petty Officer 2nd class Sean Edwards was assigned to the satellite division. Sometime around midnight, he saw the red external signal blinking.

“What the…” he frowned, putting aside his tea mug and went over to the signal desk. He put the headphones and hit the receive button. “Let’s see what they got for us,” he muttered, listening. His eyes grew wide as the computer deciphered the code.

Two minutes later, he was running towards the Admiral’s office.

“Message from Home Base, sir!”

The Admiral snatched the paper from Edwards and scanned it. “Thank you, Edwards.” He said absently. “Back to your duty.”

“Yes sir.” When the door closed the elderly Admiral walked over to his desk and sat down. He looked at the message long and hard, weighing his decisions. Then he picked up the phone and made a call.

Frank Randell was in a meeting when his secretary walked in. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s an Admiral Saggs on the phone. He said it’s important.”

Frank frowned. Who the hell…? He looked up at the tall lanky agent in front of him. “We’ll talk later, Tom.”

“Sure.”

Frank waited until he was alone, then picked up the phone. “Randell speaking.”

“Mr. Randell, this is Admiral Saggs on the POCB division. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Frank replied, thinking, POCB? What kind of a division was that? Pork Over-Cook Ban? “How can I help you, Admiral?”

“I’m just inquiring if you have received a message from the National Security Agency.”

NSA? Frank was awake now. “I’m sorry, did you say the NSA? No, there was no message, but…”

The admiral continued. “I believe that you have an agent in your crimes and Arms department, Mr. Randell.”

“I have several,” Frank replied cautiously. “Admiral, forgive me for asking, but why are you telling me this? If the message came from the NSA, then-”

“We’re talking about a rather special agent, Mr. Randell. I’m sure I don’t have to name her.”

Frank stopped. Harrison. It had to be her. What have you got yourself into again, he thought silently.

“The NSA are looking for that agent, Mr. Randell. They want her to be terminated.” The voice on the other end said quietly.

Frank felt a chill go through him. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible to see that message, Admiral?” Frank asked carefully.

“Certainly. I’ll sent it over right away.”

“Not through the general-” Frank heard his private messenger come alive on the screen. The message was coming through his fax machine.

“It should be over by now, Randell.” The Admiral said. “If there isn’t anything else-”

“One more question, sir.” Frank interrupted. “If they sent you a message to terminate this agent, why haven’t you followed it?”

There was a silence. “Let’s just say that I owe them a few favors, shall we? I don’t know what the message said, Randell. I hope you did. Goodbye.” He hung up.

“Wait! I-” Frank swore. What the hell is going on? He put the phone down and walked over to his desk. The message had finished downloading. He read through the message grimly. Terminated. Damnit, that sonofabitch still wanted her dead. And to think they’d leave her alone.
Frank walked over to his shredder and watched as the paper dispersed. Thank God for the man. Saggs...the name rang a faint bell. He pushed it aside for now and picked up the phone. “Get me the FBI.”

No one was going to touch Harrison, dead or alive.

“Move a little more…that’s it! Okay, hold it, hold it…right, give me some smile there, Brian! No, not like that! Okay, that’s better! Now hold it!”

It was day three of their photo shoot. Doing credit to their high technology surroundings, the work was overall very professional. The group was surprised by the efficiency of their crew and photographers.

“Morning, Kevin. How’re you feeling this morning?” Click, click.

“Turn a little more to the right…”

“…Okay, serious now, good…no, don’t brood. Right, just relax now…perfect!” Click, click.

Helen was pushing them hard. There was a ton of work to get thorough and they found themselves in front of the camera nearly every hour, only stopping to eat and sleep.

“This was supposed to be a holiday,” AJ grumbled at dinner that night. “I feel like we’re on a promo tour.”

“Without the stage,” Howie added.

“Hey, we’re just getting started,” Julian reminded them. “Things can get a bit uptight during the first couple of days. They’ll relax after some time.”

“Mike said something about going out after photo sessions,” AJ interrupted. “Can we?”

“You’re itching to get out, aren’t you?”

“Aw, come on, Jules. We’ve been good,” Brian said in a squeaky voice, sending everyone into laughter.

Julian glanced at Helen. “Is that alright?”

She shrugged. “Don’t see why not, Jules.” She said placidly.

“Yeah! You rock, Helen!”

She smiled. “As long as you turn up tomorrow morning, I have no problem with that.”

Ashley, who’s been sitting next to Nick, laughed prettily. “Yeah, I mean, you guys should relax, too. Otherwise you’ll turn into a modern day hermits.” She said teasingly.

Julian turned. “Okay. You got the night off. Round up your bodyguards.”

“Oh what?” AJ snorted in disbelief. “Jules, this is our only chance to keep low and you tell us we need to bring them along? We’ll give them a night off as well.”

“AJ, what did I say about taking no chances?” Julian asked. “Round them up and get ready.”

“I feel like I’m on some kind of a school excursion,” AJ grumbled as they headed towards their cabins.

“Stop complaining,” Kevin drawled. “At least we got the night off.”

“Okay, meet you guys back here,” Brian said. “I’m going to get Billy and change.”

“Sounds good.”

Nick walked uncertainly towards Rachael’s cabin, wondering if she was in. He hadn’t seen her all day, the first time she left him by himself during the shoot. Usually she hung around somewhere near the sets, watching. Helen seemed a little curious about her presence, but didn’t make an issue of it yet. On the contrary, it seemed that it was Ashley that was bothered. Nick noticed that as the young assistant worked with Helen, she gave the grim-faced woman furtive glances. Maybe she was scared of the scar. In any case, Rachael didn’t seem to care. As always.

“What are you doing?”

“God!” he yelped and whirled around, scared out of his wits. As he turned, he lost his balance on the steps landed in an ungraceful heap on the rubble. Rachael stood there, looking at him with a frown.

“Damn, you scared the crap outta me!” he yelled, gasping. “Don’t do that!”

She didn’t seem apologetic. Wordlessly she held her hand out. Out of sheer peevishness, Nick ignored it and got to his feet. Rachael shrugged, as if not bothered. “Aren’t you suppose to be going out some place?”

“I am.” He replied grumpily. “I was waiting for you.”

“Ready to go?” she asked.

He dusted himself off. “Well, yeah, but…” he looked at her. She wasn’t planning to go like THAT, was she?

“But what?” she looked annoyed by his stalling.

He cleared his throat. “Um…”

To his horror, he realized he had spoken out aloud. “What’s the problem?” She asked coolly. He had to admit the black suit weren’t that bad on her, but even he had to draw the line on the three-eyed orange fish from the Simpsons inside, to mention it was boiling hot.

“Well…you know…” he tried to find some graceful way out of this. “Julian said that we gotta mingle and not stand out and stuff, so…”seeing her looking at him unfazed doubled his frustration. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the suit, it’s just that we’d draw attention and that’s not good so…”

“Are you telling me to change my clothes?” she cut across his rambling.

He heaved a sigh. “Yes.”

She shrugged. “Fine.” She walked past him and up the steps to her cabin, leaving him gaping after her. Man, that was way easy, he thought. Maybe she isn’t so stubborn after all.

“Oh by the way…” she turned and gave him a cool rake with her eyes. “You can do your part by not looking so much like a…popstar.”

He stared at her. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he demanded, pointing at himself.

She gave him a look that spoke volumes then closed the door to get changed.

If the stalker doesn’t drive me crazy, he thought looking up at the rapidly darkening sky, she will.