At the stroke of midnight, Sharon slowly opened her eyes and glanced at Steve sleeping soundly beside her. She had slipped enough drugs into his champagne to knock him out for a good ten hours so that he would not interfere with her plans. She slithered out of bed, put on her feathered slippers and bathrobe and padded up to the wardrobe where she picked up her purse. She silently made her way to the bathroom and locked the door for precautionary measures.

She rummaged through the content of her bag to pull out a tiny capsule and a screwdriver. She proceeded to unscrew the panel of the venting duct to retrieve a gas mask she had concealed earlier. Thereafter she filled up a glass with hot water that she placed inside the shaft. She picked up her pocket ventilator and turned it on as she dropped the capsule into the water. She directed the fan over the gas emanating from the glass to speed up the process. According to the chemist’s calculation, the vapours should render everyone in the house unconscious within twenty minutes.

Before the fumes permeated the bedroom she walked up to the bed and leaned forward to brush a light kiss on Steve’s forehead. With a heavy heart she whispered, “I’m sorry Steve. I do love you. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” She then put on her mask and waited for the gas to take effect.

She crept down the deserted corridor to go down to the parlor. Glancing both ways to ensure no prying eyes were watching her she tiptoed to one of the windows and unlocked it to allow her two associates, one of them her own supposed brother, Jerry, access inside the house. “Careful, you two. We don’t want to mess it up,” she warned on an imperious tone.

“Are they all knocked out?” asked Jerry, alias Ivan, in a Russian accent, underneath his gas mask.

“Yes. But we don’t have much time,” she answered in her own Russian accent. “The gas won’t last long. Maybe another thirty minutes, tops. Have you taken care of the guards outside?”

“Petrof and Mikaïl got them all. The coast is clear.”

“Alright. Go to it. I’ll watch your back just in case.”

“Right, boss.”

The two moved stealthily up the staircase to the Prime Minister’s bedroom with hawk-eye Sharon following close behind. She studied their every move as they lifted the PM’s limb body out of the bed to lay him down on the Persian rug, wrapping it into a neatly little package made easy to carry out of the house to the awaiting van parked out back.

They went back up and applied the same procedure to the President.

Outside Sharon gave last-minute instructions to her associates before they drove away, leaving her behind to sweep the premises for any damaging evidence. She then returned to her bedroom and took care of putting the ventilation panel back in its place and washed the glass before she made her way to the bed. A smirk played on her lips at her successful mission as she slowly slid her lean body next to her ‘husband’.

It was early the next morning when Steve awoke with a throbbing headache. Slowly prying his eyes open he focused on his surroundings before heaving himself out of bed. He staggered to the bathroom to splash water onto his face. He let out of heavy sigh at the startling reflection of red-rimmed eyes peering through a haggard expression. He cudgelled his brain as to the reason for his queasiness. He reached for the bottle of aspirin and popped one tablet into his mouth that he washed down with water. He then turned off the light and slouched over to the bed to crawl under the covers. He closed his eyes with the hopes that the hammering would cease within the hour.

He was slowly lapsing into a peaceful slumber when a bang on the door yanked him back to the surface. As he sprung in bed he was struck by an unbearable searing twinge that prompted him to grab his head in excruciating pain. He moaned and groaned as he heavily dragged his body to the door.

“Oscar? What is it?”

“Headache?”

“You wake me up to ask me that?” Steve griped, squinting his eyes at the blinding light coming from the hallway.

“The Prime Minister and President are gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“Gone as in they are nowhere to be found. We suspect they were abducted during the night after they gased the house, hence the reason for the formidable headaches.”

“How is it possible? The property is swarming with security guards.”

“The guards on century duty outside were all knocked out. The ones posted in the house have no recollection of anything that happened after midnight.”

Steve heaved a long-drawn sigh and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his senses. “Give me a second,” he said through a yawn before walking back to the bed to grab his pants and shirt draped over the back of a chair. He slipped them on as he glanced at his sleeping wife. Cringing at the thought of Sharon rousing with the same splitting headache he preferred not to disturb her slumber. Unbeknownst to him that her evil eyes were grinning in content underneath the eyelids.

Steve and Oscar met with Cassie and the security chief in the Prime Minister’s bedroom where the wife was in a tizzy over her husband’s disappearance. She was going around hurling insults at the officers who had failed to protect her husband. The President’s spouse was at her side endeavouring to soothe her anger but seeing how she was equally in an uproar over the situation, her efforts were in vain.

“Cassie did you hear anything?” Steve asked his partner.

She shook her head negatively, squishing her eyes together as the room began spinning. Steve took her by the arm and assisted her to a chair. “I was knocked out like the rest of us.”

“It had to be an inside job,” Steve surmised aloud while he massaged the back of Cassie’s neck.

“But who? No one is missing from the house except for the Prime Minister and President. If anyone pulled an inside job they would have left with the cavalry.”

“Not necessarily.” Steve squatted down beside Cassie to apply a back rub when she complained of feeling sick to her stomach. “Feeling a little better?” With a hand over her mouth to hold the nausea threatening to spew out she shook her head. Steve got up and went to the bathroom to get her a glass of water. As he assisted her to drink he noticed a tiny feather on the carpet. He zoomed in to confirm the authenticity of the item. He stretched his arm to pick it up.

“What is it?” Cassie asked.

“Do you know if Mrs. Carrington wears feathered slippers?” Steve queried with an eyebrow raised in suspicion at the feather he twirled between two fingers.

Cassie motioned to the woman’s feet. “Apparently not.” She then turned to him and frowned at his troubled expression. “What is it?”

“I think I just figured out who the inside man is.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say yet. I need to be sure.”

“Steve don’t be a hero. Let security handle it.” He fashioned a reassuring smile at her solicitude as he squeezed the back of her neck. “At least share your suspicion with me just in case. I promise not to say a word.”

He glanced over to his right to ensure people were out of earshot before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I think it’s Sharon.” He put a finger to Cassie’s lips when she shot him a look of shock. “Shuuuu, your word.” He waited for an acknowledgement before continuing, “I want to talk to her first.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No. Think it’s best I confront her alone; give her a chance to explain without any witness around.”

“Okay. But be careful. If she’s behind this plot then there’s not telling what she can do if she’s caught.”

“I will,” he assured with his trademark lopsided grin. “You keep humouring these people.” He snuck out of the bedroom to amble down to his own room. He closed the door behind him with a firm hand, his steely eyes focusing on the sleeping form in the bed. He clumped over to Sharon’s side and sat in a chair, crossing his arms on his chest as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence, knowing she was feigning sleep.

Hearing his heavy breathing, Sharon figured her best alternative was to pretend to rouse from a deep drug-induced sleep. “Steve,” she mumbled groggily, grabbing her head in pain. “Ohhhhhh my head.” Her whining failed to elicit any sympathy from her husband who remained stoically apathetic.

“Headache, sweetheart?” He said with a crushing cynism.

“Yeah,” she sighed heavily, groaning in pain as she heaved herself into a sitting position. “I didn’t have that many glasses of wine to have this hangover.”

“How about gas?”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you used to knock everyone out in the house last night?”

“Steve, what are you talking about?” Sharon asked on an innocent tone, though Steve could pick up a tinge of panic in her inflection.

“We’ve just found out that both President and Prime Minister have disappeared from the house; no doubt they’ve been kidnapped. Now how is that possible with so many security guards inside and outside the property?” he asked sarcastically.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because I have reason to believe you were the inside man who gased the house to knock everyone out so that your associates could sneak in and do the job. Am I right?”

“You’re crazy.” As she rose from the bed he produced the feather in his hand. “Recognize this?”

“A feather?”

“One that matches the ones on your slippers.”

“What of it?”

“Guess where I found it?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “On the President’s bedroom carpet. Now how did it get there?”

“How should I know?” she answered icily.

“Maybe I should outline it for you, dear.” He stood from his chair and began pacing the floor as he gave his own account of the likely elaborate scheme. When his back was turned she quickly slid her hand underneath her pillow to retrieve a small revolver equipped with a silencer.

“That will be enough, Steve,” she warned sternly.

The change of inflection in her voice prompted him to turn around. A small spasm crossed his face at the sight of the deadly weapon trained on him. “So I was right.”

“You are very clever, Steve,” she marvelled in her own Russian accent. “But then again it is my own fault for wearing fancy slippers instead of plain loafers. It is true. I was the one who sent the gas through the house to render everyone unconscious.” She slowly rose from the bed, heedful to keep her gun on Steve. “I am the brain of this outfit. We warned the two leaders not to form an alliance over the satellite communications project but they would not listen. We are the voice of the people.”

“We?”

“You ever heard of The Swords?”

The disquiet expression etched on Steve’s face was evidence that he was acquainted the group of infamous European extremists. “I see that you do. I’m the leader: Irena Pavlova.”

“How long have you been planning this?”

“We knew about the secret meeting five months ago.”

“I see. So our meeting at the restaurant wasn’t fortuitous after all.”

“Correct. When we received word that the OSI would be ensuring the two leaders’ protection we decide that I would play the loving girlfriend to the most likely candidate to be chosen for the assignment.”

“Then it’s all been a lie, including the marriage I presume?” Steve surmised cynically with nostrils flaring and teeth set in suppressed fury.

“There was never any marriage. It was all a set-up. The reverend was paid to keep his mouth shut and Jerry, well, Jerry aka Ivan is my right-handed man. Pretty convincing, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll say. You used me. You never loved me.”

She briefly lowered her eyes in shame. “At first I didn’t. But I grew more and more attracted to you. Believe me when I say I fell in love with you over these past months spent in your company.”

“I can’t,” he replied coldly. “What have you done with them?”

“They are safe in an Acme warehouse a couple of miles from here. At least they will be if they sign that document vetoing their mutual agreement to force an alliance.”

“Do you honestly think that you can get away with that?”

“We will. Even if they contest the signatures we have other ways to convince them to remain true to their decision.”

“Like what?”

“Do you think I am stupid?” she scoffed, waving her gun at Steve to force him to back against the bathroom door. “I am not about to reveal our secrets. That is our force.”

“What now? You intend to kill me?”

“I did not want to. The original plan was for me to walk out of your life once we were back in Washington. But now you know too much and therefore you leave me no choice but to eliminate you.” Before Steve could lunge at her she shot him in the chest, his body jerking backwards from the impact of the bullet. She stood over him with a heart bursting at the seams for what she had to do, trying hard to convince herself that her political cause was of a far greater importance than her personal feelings. “I am so sorry Steve,” she quavered. “In other circumstances I would have been proud to be your wife. Believe me I do love you.” She sniffled back her tears before buckling down to the task at hand. She grabbed his wrists and dragged him bodily across the floor to the bathroom and closed the door. She threw on a shirt and pants, then went to the French doors to scale the wall down to the garden below. She scanned the surroundings to ensure the coast was clear before stealing away to the nearest bushes. There she found the hole in the fence and squeezed herself through it. She hurried down the street a couple of yards to find Ivan’s car parked alongside the curb. She put on the ignition and drove to their hideaway.

Cassie glanced at her wristwatch for the umpteenth time. Twenty minutes had worn on since Steve entered his bedroom to face Sharon with his suspicion. The sound of her inner alarm was deafening but she chose to ignore it, convinced that Steve had everything under control.

“Cassie, have you seen Steve?” Oscar asked. “We would like to ask him a couple of questions.”

“He and his wife are in their bedroom.”

Cassie grabbed his arm as he started down the corridor. “Could you give him a couple more minutes?”

Oscar frowned in puzzlement. “What for?”

“He thinks he knows who might be behind this kidnapping.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t say.”

Oscar’s inquisitive stare darted between Cassie and Steve’s bedroom door. The concern mirroring in her eyes hinted him as to the probable suspect. “How long have they been in there?”

“Close to twenty-five minutes.”

“I don’t like this.” Oscar hastened the pace down to the hall to Steve’s bedroom with Cassie on his heels. He rapped on the door. “Steve. I have to talk to you. Open up.” When no answer came he turned the doorknob and nudged open the door, poking his head inside to make sure he wasn’t interrupting a romantic interlude before stepping into the room.

“He was here. I saw him go in and not come out. Maybe he went through the window.” Cassie made her way to the French doors overlooking the garden below.

“Why would he do that?”

“To chase after a certain suspect?” Cassie hinted.

“It’s Sharon, isn’t it?”

“Steve thinks she’s part of the scheme, yes.”

“Some wife!” Oscar mocked. His blood was simmering at the thought of his friend having been conned by a woman. His eyes caught sight a streak of light from under the bathroom door. As he opened it horror struck him at the macabre discovery. “Oh my God!”

“Steve!” Cassie shrieked, diving to her knees to assess her friend’s injuries. With trembling hands, she groped his neck in search of a palpable pulse. She sighed with relief at the faint beat. “His pulse is weak. He must have lost a lot of blood. Hand me a towel, will you?” Oscar hurried to do her biding while ripped open his blood-drenched shirt to study to bullet wound. “It’s close to the heart.” She grabbed the small towel Oscar handed her and applied pressure on the bleeding wound. The ashen face and extremely shallow breathing paralysed her with fear.

“I’ll get the doctor.” Oscar said and then dashed out of the room to fetch the house physician busy treating the guards who suffered mild concussions.

While pressing onto the towel to stem the haemorrhage, a faint moan escaping Steve’s lips startled her. She leaned in closer to his face and spoke in a hushed, though urging voice. “Steve, can you hear me? Come on Blue Eyes, look at me,” she coaxed, tapping him lightly on the cheek to elicit a response. His baby blue opened a slit, his lips moving but no sound would come out. She pressed her ear against his mouth to hear his faint whispers.

“Sh….sha…”

“Sharon did this to you? She shot you?” A feeble nod of the head was all she needed. “She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“Yeeeeeeeeees,” he breathed out in excruciating pain. “P….pr….presi..”

“Shuuuuuuu Steve. Don’t talk anymore. Save your strength. We’ll find her.”

“Ac…..ac…acme ware….ware….,” Steve drew in a breath hoping to gather enough energy to end his sentence. “Acme warehousssssssssssssse.”

“Acme warehouse. What are you talking about?”

“Pres…presssssssssident and Pri…prime.”

“Are you saying that’s where the President and Prime Minister are being held?” Steve smiled at her unique ability to decipher even the murkiest of his thoughts. He let out a cough that sent shock waves radiating through his body. She clasped his hand and squeezed it, her face distorting in pain at the sight of his friend at the throes of agony. “Hang on. The doctor’s on his way. We’ll find them. Don’t you worry. We’ll find them.” On her promise, Steve nodded weakly and slumped into unconsciousness just as the in-house physician breezed into the room with Oscar and the security chief.

“How is he?” Oscar asked in a flustered.

“He briefly regained consciousness to tell me where the two leaders were being held. My guess is Sharon must have confessed before she shot him.”

“Where?” queried the head of security.

“He said an Acme warehouse. Is there one in the vicinity?”

“We’ll soon find out.” He bent down to address the doctor striving to keep the victim alive. “Is he going to make it?”

“It’s hard to tell. My educated guess is that the bullet is embedded inside the heart muscle. We must be extremely cautious how we handle his transport to the hospital.”

“My assistant has already contacted the medical center. An ambulance should be here shortly.”

“They’d better hurry. The man needs a blood transfusion within the next thirty minutes or he’ll die.”

“Oscar, maybe you should call Rudy and explained the situation?” Cassie suggested with an edge of urgency that only Oscar could pick up. He responded with an acknowledging nod of the head.

The security chief beckoned Oscar out of the room to start planning their offensive while Cassie remained with the doctor to help with whatever care there was to administer to keep Steve alive.

It wasn’t long before the tactical unit raided the warehouse, catching everyone off guard. Thankfully the two leaders were unharmed and swore their captors hadn’t manhandled them in anyway. Sharon and her group were taken into custody and were later arraigned on charges of conspiracy.

Late at night at the hospital, Rudy entered Steve’s room to check his vitals. Closing the medical chart, he shook his head in dejection and let out a heavy sigh at the patient’s critical condition. He wished he had been present in the OR to perform the delicate surgery but time was of the essence to save Steve’s life from a deadly bullet lodged in the heart muscle. From the plane flying him to California, he contacted Dr. Marchetti to request that he assist with surgery, given Steve’s special nature. Although Steve had survived the surgery he still wasn’t out of the woods.

His gaze shifted to the end of the bed, to take in the poignant sight of the careworn friend slumbering on the couch. He walked up to Cassie to lay a blanket over her. As he pulled it to her shoulders she jolted awake.

“Steve?” she droned out, eyes in half-mast.

“He’s still unconscious,” Rudy informed in a hushed voice. At her request he assisted her into a sitting position.

“What time is it?” she asked through a yawn as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Close to midnight.”

She lazily heaved herself off the sofa and padded up to the bed to cradle Steve’s hand in hers. “He doesn’t look good,” she remarked grimly.

“He’s fighting.”

“I should have been more thorough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Steve asked me to go down to Vegas to check out this spur-of-the-moment marriage. He wanted me to prove it was phony.” She shook her head ruefully. “Everything was so well planned. I wanted to delve deeper but Steve told me to let it go. That he would try to make a go of it. He loved Sharon. It kills me to think she betrayed him.” Tears began clouding her eyes as she strived to suppress the emotions rising in her. “How could she do this to him?”

“She had an objective that didn’t allow her to have any emotion whatsoever.”

“I’m sure a part of her loved him. He’s that kind of man,” Cassie mused with a weak smile.

Rudy wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and gave it two light squeezes. “Why don’t you go back to your hotel and get some sleep. I’ll watch him.”

“This couch will do just fine. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“It might not be for quite some time.”

“I don’t care.” She turned to Rudy with imploring eyes “ Please. Allow me to stay.”

Rudy’s lips curled up in an obliging smile. “Okay. But do get some sleep. Steve will need you well rested to draw strength from you.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Once Rudy out of the room, Cassie scooted a chair over to the bed and sat. Still holding Steve’s left hand, she crossed her arms onto the mattress and pillowed her head on them. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her.

The sun was already filtering through the window blinds of the dimlit room when Steve pried open his eyes. Blinking to dispel the fog, he frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings until a welcoming sight caught his eye. He swallowed hard to moisten his parched throat so he could utter her name. The two vain attempts only contributed in sapping his energy and felt himself drifting off. He fought against the tidal wave threatening to drown him in a sea of darkness to reach out to the sleeping head lying on his mattress. He garnered enough strength to lightly squeeze her hand, hoping she would feel the tug. He was ready to surrender to his leaden eyelids when he saw Cassie raise her head and look at him.

“Steve?” her beam reached her ears at the baby blues peeking through a slit “You’re awake.” She slid closer to the top of the bed to run a delicate hand through his hair. “It’s good to see those blue eyes. Are you in pain?”

He let his drooping eyelids fall and gave a light shake of the head. He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips to squeeze out the word ‘Shot.’

“That’s right. You scare the devil out of us. If Oscar hadn’t asked to see you at that precise moment we might have found you too late. We didn’t hear any shots.”

“Sil….sil,” Steve struggled to breathed out.

“A silencer? We thought as much. You’ll be glad to know that we caught your charming wife,” she accented the adjective with a sardonic tone, “and her group of extremists. Both President and Prime Minister were found safe and sound. It’s back to business as usual.”

Steve managed a faint smile that Cassie perceived as melancholic. “Steve, forget her. She didn’t deserve you, Blue Eyes. There’s a woman out there worthy of your love. I guarantee you’ll find her.”

“Al..already haaaave,” he heaved out, giving Cassie a friendly wink.

She smiled at the glaring message shining in those mischievous eyes of his. She leaned forward to place a gently kiss on his forehead. “Guess we have a lot to talk about when you get better?”

He flashed as big a smile as his drawn features would allow, squeezing Cassie’s hand in gratitude before letting himself drift off in the land of Nod. As she watched him sleep, she thanked Providence for placing her in the path of such a great man: her best friend.