THIRTY-NINE

Cate took a breath as the order sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.  Immediately her brain started to whirl with all the details she would have to take care of in the next hour.  She had to book a flight, pack a bag, call Jon, cancel her meeting with Dorothea… and call Dr. Klein’s office. 

Her stomach clenched as she realized the gravity of missing her scheduled appointment.

Momentarily shoving aside her worry, Cate addressed the speakerphone.  “Sil, can you take care of things on your end?  Get me someplace to stay, a car, the whole deal?  You know better than I would where I’d be staying if I were just a pampered millionaire’s wife looking to shop her time away.  And it needs to look like I’ve been there a few days, not just came into town at the same time as Cupid.  We don’t need to create any more coincidences than necessary.”

“Got it.  Yvette can book you into the Ritz under your married name.  We’ll fix it so the records are backdated a couple days.”

Again Yvette’s voice sounded in the background.  “I’ll drop a few comments into the society blogs too, that you were spotted out at some boutiques and restaurants over the weekend.  Should I include your husband?”

Cate shook her head.  “No.  Leave Jon out of this.”  She gave a wry smile despite herself.  “Don't worry, once his fans get wind that I'm in Miami all kinds of people will be on the lookout for him down there.”

“Yvette can call the organizers about a ticket on your behalf, too.  Say she’s your assistant.  You guys do that, right?”

“Yes.”  Cate’s expression sobered.  “But I want to make this clear to all of you, right now.  Nobody mentions a word about Jon’s Foundation.  Understand?  What people assume is one thing, but I will NOT claim to be there as an official representative."  She turned her gaze to her supervisor, giving Al a fierce stare.

"Of course not, Cate.  We know the laws."  Agent Quinn's response was calm.  "Last thing we want is for your husband's Foundation to slap us with a complaint for misrepresentation."

"Hell, Al... I'd slap you with it myself," Cate replied in a serious half-snarl.  "I'm not fucking around with this.  I mean it.  The cover is I'm just a rich rock star's wife on a shopping trip in Miami."

"We got it, Cate.  You have my word.  No official connection will come from this -- or any -- office."  Al reached out to place a placating hand on Cate's shoulder.  "But like you said, we can't control what assumptions people make.  It may appear in the press that you were there, with speculation you were your husband's representative."

"That we'll deal with if it happens."  Cate's stomach fluttered at the realization of the conversation she might have to have with Jon.  She could only pray coverage of her presence at this event would be buried in the fine print of the Miami Herald's society pages.

"Target's wheels-up, Sir."  Max's announcement interrupted the exchange between Cate and her supervisor.  Both automatically diverted their attention to the video monitor that showed the Duque learjet lifting off the runway at Teterboro airport.

"Alright, Kids.  Let's get to work!"  Silvio's cheerful chirp sounded through the speaker.  "We'll pick up Cupid when he lands, and keep on him.  Cate, let me know when you're arriving.  You want one of my guys to pick you up at the airport?"

"She's gonna need a car.  A fancy one."  Yvette answered Silvio's question before Cate could even open her mouth.  "Cate, I'll book you something fun.  A sexy little convertible you can speed along the beach in."

"With GPS, please."  Cate couldn't help but smile.  This trip would certainly be more comfortable than her normal government travels, which typically featured a rented Ford Taurus and a room at the Hampton Inn. 

"Stop by my office before you take off," Al commanded.  "Give me your details."

"Okay, Al."  Cate took a step back and turned for the door.  "I better get moving if you want me there by evening.  See ya in a few hours, Sil!"  She directed her last comment toward the speakerphone.

"Adios! Hasta luego, Chica!"

Cate chuckled softly as she turned for the door.  Her smile faded quickly, into a frown of concentration as her mind raced, swiftly organizing all the tasks she needed to accomplish into a long list.  She swiped her access card through the reader to let herself out of the Operations Center, then quickly ascended to the higher floor.  By the time she strode back into her office Cate had her plan of action worked out. 

Dropping into her deep leather chair, Cate reached for her iPhone with one hand and her computer mouse with the other.  She first tackled her most immediate task, locating the earliest available flight to Miami. 

After scanning the official government travel website's offerings, Cate realized she would have little luck using the normal channels.  She pulled out her lower desk drawer and rummaged through her purse until she located her sleek Italian leather wallet.  As she typed her search with one hand, with her other hand Cate extracted her personal credit card from its slot in the slim folder.

Within  minutes she had secured a business class seat on a nonstop flight departing Kennedy for Miami in just four hours.  As she printed her boarding pass Cate prayed she would have enough time to complete her long list of personal tasks in the short two-plus hours before she would have to leave for the airport.

Cate's fingers flew over her keyboard as she sent the necessary emails and saved documents before shutting down her computer.  She quickly gathered her case file and locked it inside the safe standing in the corner behind her office door.  If she needed access to the file, she could get it electronically at Silvio's office.  

As Cate loaded her briefcase with her laptop and other necessities she mentally ticked off the list of items she would need to gather at home when she packed her suitcase.  Her duties would require formal attire in addition to casual wear, which could prove to be a pain.  She would have to take whatever was hanging in the closet; most of her evening dresses were stored in the massive walk-in closet at the Red Bank house.  She just hoped she had something in the apartment that was suitable for Miami weather.  

Finally, her work tasks completed, Cate settled back into her desk chair.  A glance at her office door confirmed it was securely closed before she picked up her iPhone for a more personal priority call.  She tapped the screen to speed-dial the frequently-used number, then waited anxiously for the receptionist's friendly voice.

"Good morning, Dr. Klein and Associates."

Cate smiled nervously at Jessica's cheery greeting.  "Hi. This is Cate Sullivan.  I'm sorry, but I have kind of an emergency... is Dr. Klein available?"

"No, Mrs. Sullivan.  I'm sorry, but he's at NYU this morning... is this a medical emergency?  If so, you should call 911..."

Cate chuckled at the alarm in the young woman's voice.  "No, it's nothing like that.  But I really, really need to talk to someone about my appointment this afternoon.  I have an urgent out-of-town trip that's just come up, and I won't be able to make it..."

"Oh.  I can reschedule you, Mrs. Sullivan..."  Apparently relieved that this was not an actual emergency, Jessica chirped happily into the phone.  "Let me see... he has a morning slot open next Thursday..."

"No, Jessica, that's not going to work."  Cate swallowed her exasperated growl, keeping her voice calm.  "I have labs..."

"Oh, wait.  Mrs. Sullivan, I have a note in the computer that this an IUI protocol follow-up.  I can't reschedule that.  You have to be seen within twenty-four hours."

Cate sucked in a breath before answering through gritted teeth.  "Yes, Jessica.  I know.  That's what I was trying to tell you, that I can't make my appointment at five.  I'm headed out of town.  On urgent business."

"Oh, well... I could try to squeeze you in at three-thirty..."

Cate sighed.  "I'll be on a plane by then.  Listen, Jessica... all I have to do is lab work."

"But you have a consult scheduled with Dr. Klein.  I'm sorry, Mrs. Sullivan, but he's not available until after four."

"Listen..."  Cate took a breath, then an idea occurred to her.  "Jessica, is Edie working today?"

"Yes, she's here.  But I think she might be with a patient."

"Could you page her, please?"

"I can put you through to the nurse's station."

"Fine.  Great.  Thank you, Jessica."  Cate rolled her eyes before glancing up at the clock on her office wall.  She winced as she saw the hour.  Hopefully Nurse Edie could advise her what she should do, and quickly.

"Nurse's station.  Andrea speaking."

Cate jumped at the familiar voice, an involuntary smile of relief ghosting her lips.  She liked the young, sassy African-American nurse, mainly because she was both highly competent and bluntly straightforward.

"Andrea, thank God.  This is Cate Sullivan."

"Oh, hey Mrs. Sullivan!"  Cate could hear the nurse's smile in her greeting.

"I have a little problem, and I was hoping to talk to Edie."

"Well, she's in with a patient right now.  Can I help?"

Cate cursed silently before continuing, a note of desperation now tinging the words that tumbled breathlessly from her lips.

"I hope so.  Listen, Andrea.  I had something come up for work and I have to be on a plane in a little less than four hours.  My ten-day post-IUI consult with Dr. Klein was scheduled for five o'clock today.  I'm not going to be able to make it, and I won't be back in town for a few days. What should I do?"

"You just had labs for today, right?"  Andrea's question was clipped, to the point.

"Yes.  As far as I know."

"Can you come in right now?"

Cate sighed with relief.  "I'm walking out the door as we speak."  As if to demonstrate her point, she rose from her chair and reached for her briefcase.  "I can be there in about fifteen minutes, if traffic cooperates."

Andrea's throaty chuckle sounded in Cate's ear.  "Okay.  When you get here just go straight down to the lab.  You need to do both blood and urine, so don't go to the bathroom before you get here.  I'll tell Edie you're on your way in; she can meet up with you when you get here and help you figure out the rest."

"Andrea, thank you.  You're a lifesaver."

"Nah, I'm a baby maker.  Remember?  Now hurry up.  You got a plane to catch."

Her flip, rapid-fire reply made Cate laugh.  "On my way.  See you as soon as I can."

"Alright, Mrs. S."

Releasing another grateful sigh, Cate stepped back from her desk as she ended the call.  She pushed in her chair and glanced at the safe to ensure it was locked.  Then she strode for her door.  Cate flicked the light switch as she passed, darkening the room to the gray winter light of day before pulling her door shut behind her.

*****

"Hey, I can't take your call right now.  Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

The corners of Cate's mouth automatically curved upward at the sound of Jon's soft, slightly-gravelly voice in her ear, even as her heart squeezed with the disappointment of having reached his voicemail greeting.  She reached out to grasp the extended handle of her rolling suitcase with her free hand, then pulled it slowly across the kitchen as she spoke into her iPhone.

"Hey, Baby.  I've tried to call a couple times, but I guess you're on the set.  Jon, I'm really, really sorry... but I have to go out of town.  It's a last-minute op for work; I don't have any choice.  I know you hate it when I say I can't tell you anything, but I really can't.  But I promise I'll call you as soon as I can and let you know I'm okay."

She sighed softly before continuing.  "I don't know how long I'll be gone, probably a couple days.  I don't think more than two or three.  I'll know more probably tomorrow.  But Baby... I promise I'll be back for your birthday on Friday.  Hopefully way before then.  And Jonny..." 

She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

"I had to bail on my appointment with Dr. Klein today.  I'm on my way to the airport now.  But I called the clinic, they had me come and do my lab stuff before I came home to pack.  Edie told me to call when I can and get the results.  So... so I guess... I guess we'll have to share that news by phone.  Or maybe I can Skype you.  I don't know right now.  But I did get the labs done, so that's the important thing."

"Jonny..."  Cate's husky voice cracked slightly, betraying her emotion.  "Baby, I'm sorry.  I wish I could tell you in person, but I have to go.  I have a plane leaving in a little over an hour.  I... I love you so much.  Please don't be mad... I know you hate these trips, but it's what I have to do."

She smiled as she blinked back the misty film from her eyes.  "Jon, I love you.  I'll call as soon as I can, okay?  Bye."

Lowering the phone from her ear, Cate sighed.  She closed the connection before slipping the phone into her purse and heading for the door, towing her suitcase behind her.  As she reached the entry she was startled by the crisp buzz of the intercom.

"Mrs. Bongiovi, I have your cab waiting."

Cate reached up to push the button before responding to the Concierge.  "Thanks, Gordon.  I'm on my way down now."

"Very good, Ma'am."

Cate took one last wistful glance back at the apartment's empty living room before reaching for doorknob.

*****

With a weary sigh Jon tossed his keys and the small stack of mail on the small table against the wall.  He almost felt rather than heard the tuneless metallic clunk of his keychain impacting the wood.  The sound matched his mood:  heavy, gray, devoid of brightness.

As he unwound the navy knit muffler from his throat Jon toed off his boots and kicked them aside.  The dull clatter of their heels against the wood floor further underlined his bleak frame of mind.  Disregarding his usual tidy routine, Jon let his heavy woolen coat drop to the floor.  The scarf followed, draping atop the wrinkled mound of thick charcoal fabric.

Jon stood still for a moment, listening.  The apartment's silence echoed back.

 An almost inaudible growl rumbled in Jon's throat as he slowly shook his head, then shuffled through the foyer and into the living room.  This wasn't at all the way he hoped his evening would start.  He had fully expected to burst cheerfully through the door, a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other, to be greeted by his wife's maternally-glowing smile.  They had planned to spend this night celebrating.  Together.

But here he was, home alone.

Jon paused for a brief moment in the living room, staring blankly at the dark television screen mounted on the wall.   He realized he didn't want to search for the remote, to erase the silence with electronically-produced background noise.  With a snort of displeasure he turned and wandered into the kitchen.

His eyes scanned the granite countertops, searching for a note from Cate.  He knew she had come home before she raced to the airport; she had mentioned having to pack in her breathlessly apologetic voicemail.  Spying nothing on the dark surfaces, Jon sighed again. 

Apparently she had been in too much of a hurry to scrawl a brief farewell message.

The silence was broken by a short, muted buzz from Jon's belt.  The vibration of the phone against his hip made Jon jump.   Its low-pitched electronic rasp seemed deafeningly loud in the apartment's quiet.   He growled a weak curse as he reached for the device.

With a quick scan of the screen Jon saw that the alert was for an email from the Director's assistant.  He tapped the icon to open the message, then cursed again when he saw that his morning set call had been moved up by an hour.  That meant he would have to be up and out by seven, probably only to sit around his trailer for three hours awaiting his scenes.

"Sonofabitch," Jon mumbled as he stabbed a finger at his iPhone, closing the email.  As his finger trailed across the touchscreen another folder opened, this time displaying a more cheerful message.  Jacob and Romeo grinned at Jon from the digital image now filling the little screen, a visual reminder of a happy memory from the past fall.

Jon's lips curved at the sight of his two youngest boys.  The sparkle in their eyes -- Jake's deep azure like his own and Romeo's warm chocolate like his mother's -- tugged at his heart.  He missed being greeted at the door when he came home from work by a team-tackle, the boys wrapping their arms around his legs and sitting on his feet in playfully-fierce attempts to roughhouse before he even closed the door. 

Jon chuckled softly, thinking that the home his sons shared with their mother was certainly anything but silent at this moment.  It would be all managed chaos, with dinner on the stove and arguments over homework and squabbles about who made stupid faces at whom....

His smile turned bittersweet as he pushed the button to dial.  He waited three rings before she picked up.

"Hi, Jon.  What's up?"

"Hey Dorothea.  Listen... I was thinking maybe I'd come by and see the Chuckleheads.  Is it a bad time?"

"Jon, you know what it's like around here on a school night.  Reinforcements are always welcome."  Dorothea's response was warm, but held a note of warning.  "But you're not coming over and playing video games with them, got it?  They have to finish their homework and pack their backpacks for tomorrow."

Jon chuckled.  "Okay.  What do they have for homework?"

"Well..."  Dorothea paused as a spontaneous argument erupted in the background.  She swiftly quashed the conflict with a barked command before returning her attention to her caller.  "Romeo is doing his spelling words... I think he's almost done... and Jake has math.  Which he's not even close to finishing."

"Alright, I'm on it.  Tell Jake I'm on the way over and I want to check his work when I get there."  Jon's lips twisted into a little grin.  "What kind of math is it?  Not that New Math shit, I hope."

Dorothea chuckled.  "Long division.  Something you might be able to handle."

"Hey, I can do math!"

"Oh, really?  Then why did you sweet-talk Angie Lucchetti into doing your algebra homework all through senior year?"  Dorothea delivered her accusation with a teasing lilt to her husky voice.

Jon grinned as he rolled his eyes.  "Because I didn't like to do it.   And because she offered.  Besides, it was algebra, Dorothea.  Not like I ever used that shit in the real world."

"Yeah, Angie Lucchetti offered you plenty else besides help with your homework, too."  Dorothea snorted sarcastically.  "Okay, whatever.  Did you eat yet?  Or are you waiting for Cate?"

"Naw.  Cate had to go out of town.  I just got home."

"I'll set a plate for you."  Again Jon heard Dorothea's voice harden as she snapped an order at her middle son to get back to work.

"Is Jesse home?"

"No, he was going over to Connor's after practice, to study for their history test.  He's eating over there."

Jon nodded though Dorothea couldn't see his response.  "I'll see you in about ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

"Dorothea... thanks.  I know you have your schedules and everything..."

"Jon, it's okay.  Just come on over."

" 'Kay."

"Bye." 

Jon closed the connection and tucked his phone back into its holster.  His smile remained as he turned and retraced his steps to the foyer.  In less than two minutes he had re-donned his winter outerwear and was pulling open the front door. 

Seconds later, the last echo of the slamming door faded into silence.

*****

"See, Jake?  You know how to do this stuff.  It ain't so hard, is it?"  Jon smiled as he pushed the pile of pencil-scrawled notebook paper back across the table to his son.

Jacob shrugged.  "Guess not.  But it still sucks."

Jon arched a brow at the boy's response.  "Hey.  You know your mother doesn't wanna hear you talk like that."

"So?  You do."

"Yeah, well.  Notice she doesn't put up with my shit anymore, either."  Jon gave Jake a wry smirk.  "Sorry... my stuff."

His self-correction elicited a conspiratorial grin from Jon's middle son.  "She made a swear jar, 'cause Jesse was cussing too much."

Jon chuckled.  "And how much money's in it now?"

"A lot."

"And how much of that is yours?"

Jacob giggled.  "Some."  He looked over his shoulder to the kitchen, where Dorothea was busy cleaning the dishes from dinner.  "But it's not fair.  She lets Jesse say 'sucks' but not me."

"Well... sounds fair to me." Jon smirked.  "Your big brother knows a lot more bad words than you do.  Trust me."

"Like what?"

Jon laughed.  "Nice try, Jake.  But you're not dragging me into this thing with your Mother.  Shit, she already has a lot of my money."

"You owe a dollar for the jar, Dad.  You just said 'shit'."  Jacob smirked triumphantly at his father.

"Yeah, well... so did you, Genius.  So now you owe a dollar, too."

"Aw, Maaaaaan...."

Jon laughed, shooting another look at Dorothea.  He gave his ex-wife a wink when he saw her amused grin.  She was clearly monitoring their conversation.

"Tell ya what..."  Jon dropped his voice to a stage whisper and leaned across the table to conspire with his son.  "I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me.  We'll just pretend this whole 'shit' conversation never happened.  She'll never know."

Jacob giggled and whispered back, his reply gleefully dramatic.  "Okay.  But now you owe another dollar, 'cause you just said it again!"

"Dammit!"  Jon swore in a whisper, unable to contain his grin.

"Dad!  That's another dollar!"

"Okay, Okay!  I'm gonna shut up now!" Jon chuckled and leaned back, returning his voice to its normal volume.  "And now you need to go get your pajamas on.  I'll come in and say goodnight in a few minutes.  You got your backpack ready for school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Dad."  Jacob shoved the notebook paper containing his math homework into a folder, then flipped his textbook closed.  "Except for this."

"Okay.  Get moving.  I'll be there in five."

Jake stood and trudged down the hall to the front entry, where his coat and backpack hung in a locker-like cubby near the door.  A proud smile curved Jon's lips as he watched his son stuff his book and folder into the pack, then return to the kitchen.  Father and son exchanged a gentle high-five as Jacob passed through the dining nook on his way to his bedroom.

"You want coffee?"  Dorothea's query was quiet. 

Jon turned his head to see her smiling at him as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.  "Nah, that's okay."

"It's no trouble.  I'm gonna put on a pot."

"I have an early set call tomorrow.  Don't need the caffeine."

"Okay."  Dorothea dropped the dish towel on the counter and wandered around the long, granite-topped peninsula that served as a breakfast bar.  "So, when does Cate get back?"

Jon shrugged.  "Don't know.  She doesn't tell me anything about her cases."  He reached up to pull a hand through his thick, sandy bangs as he sighed. 

"Well, she can't, can she?"  Dorothea settled into the chair Jacob had occupied, across the table from Jon.

Jon rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  "No, she's not supposed to," he admitted with another weary sigh.  "I get it, but it still pisses me off when she has to run out of town like this."

"Doesn't she have a partner now?  That cute young guy... what's his name?"  Dorothea gave Jon a little smirk.  "Can't he do these last-minute trips?"

"Gus."  Jon returned Dorothea's smirk with a half-hearted grin, acknowledging her playful observation of Agent Santo's attractiveness.  "Yeah, but he's on leave this week for his sister's wedding.  So Cate doesn't have backup."

"Have you heard from her?"

Jon shook his head.  "No, not yet.  Just the message she left me earlier."  He raised a brow at Dorothea.  "And I guess she stood you up today too, huh?"

Dorothea's eyes widened slightly but her voice remained casual.  "What do you mean?"

"Weren't you two supposed to have coffee or something?  Talk about a school fundraiser or some shit like that?"

"Oh... yeah."  Dorothea waved a hand dismissively.  "She's going to help out with the lower school career day.   I just wanted to give her some advance information, since she's so busy.  She texted me she couldn't make it because of work."

Jon sighed again, unable to keep a note of annoyance from creeping into the exhalation.  "I don't know why she signs on to do all this stuff for the school.  Shit, Dorothea... she can barely keep up as it is, between her job and all the stupid events we have to go to for the Foundation and my career, and all the doctor appointments..."

Dorothea arched a brow at his complaint.  "I think she just wants to be closer to the boys, Jon."  Though she knew it was a moot point, she felt a little stab of guilty discomfort at her freshly-voiced thought.  "I mean... after all, she is their stepmother."

"Yeah, but she does stuff with Jake and Romey on the weekends when they're at our house.  That means more to them than if she shows up at some what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up thing at their school."  Jon snorted derisively.  "Hell, they probably won't even notice that she's there."

"Kids know, Jon.  You may think they don't pay attention, but they pick up on things."  Dorothea's answer was quiet.  When he didn't reply, she shifted the subject.  "Speaking of kids, Stephanie is coming home for the weekend.  She'll be here Thursday night, since she doesn't have Friday classes."

Jon's lips curved into a gentle smile at the mention of his daughter's name.  "I know.  She texted me.  Said she has to be home to bake her Old Man a birthday cake."

Dorothea chuckled softly.  "Well, I was thinking.  Since you insist on no parties this year... maybe we could just have a quiet family dinner, maybe Saturday.  Unless you and Cate have plans, that is."

"No, we're just going out for dinner Friday."  Jon snorted as a bitter note crept into his voice.  "IF she makes it back by then, that is."

"Jon, I'm sure she won't miss your birthday."

"Oh yeah?"  Jon gave Dorothea a defiant stare.  "When she's working, she's working.  She doesn't quit until she can.  Or has to."

Dorothea's eyes narrowed as she stared back at her ex-husband.  "Well, that sounds a little familiar, don't you think?"

Jon's blue eyes widened, mildly surprised at her retort.  Then he snorted quietly.  "Oh, so maybe I'm getting a little taste of my own medicine, you mean?  For all the birthdays of yours  and the kids' I missed when I was on the road?"

"No, I just mean that she doesn't control what happens in her line of work."  Dorothea's reply was calm.  "If she has to miss out on whatever plans you made, I'm sure it will be for a good reason."

"Well, if it is, I'll never know."  Jon's response was thick with sarcasm. 

Recognizing it was time to back away from the subject, Dorothea sighed.  "Well, that's between you and your wife, Jon."  She reached up to tuck a thick strand of chocolate hair behind her ear.  "I'm going to put on the coffee.  Why don't you go get the boys settled in bed?"

Jon nodded, then sighed.  "Yeah, okay."  He gave Dorothea a tired half-smile, then pushed his chair back from the table.

Dorothea watched her ex-husband stroll down the hall toward the bedrooms at the rear of the apartment.  Her lips pursed thoughtfully as she considered Jon's reaction to her simple suggestion of a family dinner.  He hadn't even answered her; his attention was instead focused on Cate's absence. 

It was clear he was displeased about Cate's abrupt departure, but Dorothea knew Jon well enough to see there was something more bothering him.  The fact that he had spent his evening here with her and the boys was telling.  For whatever reason, tonight Jon didn't want to be alone.

Still puzzling over Jon's mood, Dorothea stood and wandered into the kitchen.  She flipped the switch on the readied coffeemaker, then turned for the refrigerator.  Her day's tasks still weren't completed; there were lunches to be made for tomorrow's school day.

As she moved around the kitchen gathering the necessary supplies Dorothea heard a sound that made her pause.  She stood silent for a moment, listening.  Then a smile turned her lips as she recognized Jon's voice, accompanied by the higher, sweetly-pitched little voice of their youngest son.  Her heart squeezed as she remembered Jon singing with Jesse when their oldest son was the same age, before all their lives had changed.

Her eyes misted as she sighed and resumed her motherly chore.

*****

Cate looked out over the balcony railing, her eyes searching out the horizon-line on the silvery-black moonlit ocean.  She took a deep breath, held it for a ten-count, then slowly released it.  She felt her pulse slow, the tight buzz of tension in her nerves lessening a fraction.  Closing her eyes, Cate repeated the breathing exercise twice more, forcing her body to calm.

The warm night air stirred her hair and caressed her face.  The faint beat of dance music drifted up from the poolside nightclub floors below, reminding her that her day's work was far from over.  After just a short hour's respite to unpack, refresh herself from her flight, and get dressed for the environment, she was on duty.  Somewhere in this swanky hotel's nightclub her Target was holding court, surreptitiously watched by a team of local agents until she could make her appearance.

Almost game time.

But first she had to take a minute for personal business.

With one last glance at the ocean Cate turned and moved off the balcony, back into her suite.  Her suitcase lay open on its stand, her hastily-packed clothing strewn across the king-sized bed.  Somehow she had managed to make it to Miami with all her necessary garments and toiletries, a feat for which Cate was grateful.  There would be little time to shop for forgotten items.

Cate stepped over to the wide executive desk, which was already stacked with files, papers, and an astonishing assortment of electronic devices.  Two firearms lay holstered on the desk, her usual duty pistol in its small-of-the-back pancake holster and a smaller subcompact model.  She would likely carry both on this operation.

Ignoring the guns and work-related gadgets, Cate reached for the tablet that was her personal lifeline.  As she carried the iPad over to the bed she uncovered the screen and touched the power button.

She took another deep breath as she settled on the edge of the bed.  A glance at the digital clock glowing on the nightstand confirmed what she already knew:  it was after nine-thirty, far too late for her to reach a staff member at Dr. Klein's office. 

Cate had planned for this contingency, convincing Nurse Edie to urge Dr. Klein to break with their normal protocol of revealing fertility treatment test results only in person.  Though he had been reluctant to provide the results by electronic message, Dr. Klein had finally relented to his patient's impassioned and borderline-desperate plea.  Edie had passed on the good news to Cate via text message.  

The doctor had made his agreement conditional, insisting Cate promise she would attempt to call before the clinic closed so he could discuss the results by phone, or at the very least that she would check in the following day.  She gratefully consented to the telephonic contact, and Dr. Klein reluctantly agreed to post the results and notes to her electronic medical chart, which she could access via her passworded account.

Now, after a frantic day, Cate had a brief respite.  Finally she had a moment of privacy that she could devote to her personal priority.

Her breathing shallowed as her fingertips brushed across the iPad's screen, lightly tapping over the letters that formed her password.  She navigated through the required privacy warnings and typed in another personal identifier.  Cate swallowed hard as her eyes found the file tab icon bearing the current date and the title "Labs". 

One more tap opened the message.

She sat motionless, only her eyes moving over the screen.  Her gaze flew over the charts and the numbers that to most constituted nonsensical medical data but that Cate fluently digested as a secondary language.  A brief brush of the finger scrolled over more unremarkable data, then more.  Finally her hopeful blue eyes settled on the final section, the block containing the physician's comments.

Cate's shoulders slumped as her vision blurred with moisture.  Her womb clenched painfully as the weight of the words struck home, then she went numb.  Her head filled with a whispered voice, admonishing her for the emotional reaction, reminding her that at this moment she didn't have time for the luxury of grief.  In less than an hour she had a job to do, and she had to be on her game.

She stared at the screen for what seemed an eternity, blinking and re-reading Dr. Klein's meager notes.  His simple explanation was almost incomprehensible; Cate needed more scientific data to make herself believe the diagnosis.  She needed not just the result, but the reason.... Even though she knew that was an answer neither the tests nor her physician could provide.

Taking another deep breath, Cate held it in, counted to ten, and released it.  She sniffled slightly before steeling herself again, forcing herself to corral her emotions until she had time to deal with them.  She had to stay focused on what she was about to do.

But first she had to talk to Jon.

Setting aside the electronic tablet, Cate reached for her phone. 

*****

Twenty minutes later Jon stepped out into the dimly-lit hall.  He slowly pulled the door to Romeo's bedroom shut behind him, waiting to hear the quiet click of the latch.  A gentle smile stretched his perfect lips, his earlier annoyance now soothed.  He paused outside the closed door, savoring the fresh memory of the moment he had just shared with his littlest boy.

With a soft sigh Jon turned his attention to the other end of the hallway.  Dorothea had dimmed the lights, clearly done with her kitchen clean-up and whatever other chores he had left her to.  The rich aroma of freshly-brewed coffee wafted down the corridor.

Jon glanced at his watch, confirming his hunch that it was nearly ten o'clock.  He had spent longer than he should have laying in bed with Romeo, cuddling and singing to him.  Now the boy was asleep and he should be on his way there too.  Five a.m. would come early.  It was time for him to thank Dorothea for letting him spend the evening with his boys, and head home.

As he started down the hall Jon felt his phone vibrate on his waist.  He was mildly surprised when the sensation continued, indicating an incoming call rather than a simple data transmission.  He fished the phone from its holder and paused at the hallway's junction with the kitchen.  Jon dropped his gaze to the screen, seeking the caller's identity.

He felt the usual rush of relief when he saw Cate's photo on the screen, accompanied by her name.  Automatically his thumb moved to brush over the "accept call" button, then it paused.  Glancing up, Jon saw Dorothea sitting at the kitchen island, sipping at a mug of coffee while she paged through a magazine.

His thumb brushed over the "decline call" button, then moved to darken the screen.  Jon slipped the iPhone back into its pouch as he stepped into the kitchen.

"They're both out cold."

Dorothea looked up at Jon's quiet announcement.  She gave him a quizzical half-smile as she set her coffee mug on the counter.  "Before ten?  Good.  Maybe they won't be such bears in the morning.  Thanks for putting them to bed."

"Sure.  I miss doing it."

The melancholy note in Jon's reply touched Dorothea's heart.  "I know."  She gave a little nod, then tipped her head inquisitively.  "Was that Jesse calling?  I texted him you were here.  He said he may not make it back to see you but he wanted to ask you something."

Jon shook his head.  "No."  He paused, his eyes meeting Dorothea's.  He could see in her familiar brown gaze both curiosity and concern.  She knew him too well. 

"It was Cate."

Dorothea hesitated, a little surprised by Jon's response.  He had confided in her long ago that he always worried about Cate when she traveled.  Jon had even admitted that he was unable to sleep until his wife checked in from her location, assuring him she had arrived safely and was on the job.

 "Johnny... If you want, I'll step out of the room so you can have some privacy to call her back.  Or you can go in my room..."

"I'll call her later."  Jon's answer was quiet, but firm.

They stared silently at each other for another moment before Jon sighed.  "Anyway.  Thanks for dinner, and for letting me see the boys."

Dorothea nodded, then tipped her head toward her mug.  "You sure you don't want a coffee?"

"Nah.  Thanks."  Jon pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and started to wander toward the front of the apartment.  "I should get home."

"You sure?  It's no trouble.  Already made."  Dorothea turned on her stool to give Jon a small smile as he shuffled past her.

Jon hesitated, then half-turned to look at Dorothea.  "Well..." The corner of his mouth curved upward in a wistful half-smirk.

"Do you have any wine?"

THIRTY-EIGHT

“Did you look at the overnights already?”  Cate squinted at the photograph displayed on her flat-screen computer monitor.  The surveillance video capture was fuzzy, but the Target of her investigation was clearly identifiable. 

“Yeah.  There are a few interesting things.”  A slightly-nasal voice with a thick Boston accent crackled from the speaker on Cate’s desk phone.  “He didn’t take his usual cah-service from the office, he drove.  And he made a few stops on the way.  Out of his way, actually.”

“Hmm.  New places?  Or places we know?”  Cate swiveled her chair to glance at the television screen mounted on her office wall.  It was always tuned to CNN, and the “Breaking News” headline had caught her attention.  She scanned the crawler for details as she shuffled the papers spread across her desk, trying to determine which of them concealed the remote that controlled the muted TV.

“A couple places we’ve nevah seen him go before, but we know ‘em.”  Special Agent Lenny Doyle’s hearty chuckle rumbled through the speaker.  “One of the finah men’s establishments in lovely downtown Newahk.  Shadow-owned by Friends of Ou-ahs, of course.”

“Ah, c’mon Kenny.  He was probably just out campaigning, trying to win the votes of some hardworking lady constituents.”  Cate snickered at her sarcasm as she nodded along with Doyle’s seemingly cryptic disclosure. 

Any civilian listening to the conversation may have been puzzled by the vernacular, but the law enforcement officers involved knew exactly what they were talking about.  “Friends of Ours” were exactly what they were portrayed to be in countless Hollywood movies:  Men with full indoctrination into to Italian Organized Crime.  The term had become universal slang for cops discussing Mafiosi, despite its technical inaccuracy.  Law enforcement was certainly no friend to the Mafia; nor would any member of the profession ever be fully indoctrinated into one of The Families.

Realizing the “Breaking News” was an announcement of another round of civil unrest in an African country, Cate abandoned her half-hearted search for her remote.  She turned her attention back to the image on her screen.  “Any good shots?” 

“A couple.  Want me to send you prints for the file?”

“Nah.  Just dump ‘em on the drive.  I’ll pull ‘em up here, have our tech guys cut prints if I need them for the case file.  No sense in wasting effort or paper.”

“You got it.  So, we got Bill and Danielle on the Tahget today.  He was still at home when I talked to Billy about an hour ago.  Guess he’s going into the office late today.”

“Well he had a long day yesterday.  It’s rough being an Assemblyman.  Especially when you gotta keep all those paying constituents happy.”  Cate snorted ironically. 

She started as she heard the buzz of her iPhone, indicating she had received an incoming text.  Like the still-undiscovered television remote, her phone was somewhere under the messy pile of documents and photos on her wide desk.  Again Cate started ruffle the papers, searching for the device.

“Yeah, and when you’re out late getting your Jahnson serviced by some blonde bimbo in the back room of the bah.”

Cate chuckled at Agent Doyle’s blunt observation as she continued to search for her phone.  “Well, there is that.”

“I’ll shoot you an e-mail latah, tell ya what Our Boy is up to when Billy checks in again.  Should be pretty soon.”

“Aha!”  Cate breathed softly, discovering her iPhone under the flipped-open front cardboard of the file jacket.  She quickly swiped her finger across the screen and scanned the alert, which announced receipt of a new text message from Dorothea Hurley.

“Umm… Yeah, Lenny.  That would be good.  I don’t think he’s gonna be moving around much since he has a lot of local events on the schedule this week, but you never know.  Just keep me posted, ‘kay?”

“You got it, Cate.”

“Thanks, Len.  Talk to ya later.”  Cate reached to punch the button on her boxy black multi-line phone, terminating the connection.    A brief buzz of dialtone sounded before she shut down the speaker as well.

“Hmm…” Cate hummed softly as she scanned Dorothea’s text.  It was a brief message, confirming the time and place of their late-afternoon coffee date to discuss final details for Jon’s surprise party.  Cate felt a little pang of guilt as she typed out her response, promising to meet Jon’s ex-wife as scheduled.

Dorothea had done practically everything to plan this event; between work and doctor’s appointments Cate had barely been able to find the time to scout the location and preview the entertainment.  Even on that date she had worked up to the moment of their meeting, dashing out of the office to join Dorothea for a late dinner at the supper club where the Sinatra impersonator was performing.  Cate hadn’t felt terribly guilty about fibbing to Jon regarding her whereabouts that night; she really had been working, at least until she ran for the cab.

“Okay.”  Cate muttered her reply as she tapped the “send” button.  She nodded for good measure.  One more task completed.  She set the iPhone aside on her desk, where it was certain to soon again be buried by paperwork.

Reaching for her computer mouse, Cate closed out the image file on her screen then scrolled through the file directory.  She had barely begun her perusal of the shared drive that contained surveillance photos and videos of her Target when again her phone started to buzz.  This time it was the urgent repeated vibration of an incoming call.

Without pulling her gaze from the monitor, Cate reached for the place where she had just seconds ago set her phone.  Her finger automatically swiped across the screen before she raised it to her cheek.  With her other hand she manipulated and clicked the button on the mouse.

“Hey, Dorothea.  I just sent you a text.  I’m still good-to-go for three-thirty.”

There was a brief pause, then a throaty chuckle.  “Well, that can’t be good.  My wife meeting with my ex-wife on the sly.”

Cate winced at Jon’s smug jab.  “FUCK!” she swore silently, her mouth forming the words but her voice not releasing them into the phone’s little speaker.  She had already almost blown it; she didn’t need to encourage Jon to think there was something covert going on.

“Oh, hey Baby.  Sorry.  Dorothea just texted me to confirm we’re meeting for coffee to talk about the lower school career day.”  The fib rolled nonchalantly off Cate’s tongue.

“Career day?”  Jon chortled.  “Aren’t the lower school students a little young to be worrying about their careers?  Christ, most days Romeo can barely decide if he’s gonna act like a human or pretend to be an animal.”

Cate smiled at his observation.  “I think it’s more of a show-and-tell kind of thing.  Like ‘these are the people who make up our community’.”

“Okay, if you say so.  But I warned you.  You volunteer to help with one little fundraiser and next thing you know you’re involved in every event.  Dorothea’s cunning like that.  Very sneaky.  Crazy like a fox.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell her you said that,” Cate giggled.  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the support.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I’m sure it will come as no surprise to her.”  Jon’s chuckle floated through the connection, warming Cate’s ear.  “So, how’s your day going?”

“So far?  Not terrible for a Monday.  Still wading through the weekend reports.”

“For a ‘field agent’, you sure do have a lot of fucking paperwork.  More than you had when you were teaching.”

Cate smiled.  “Not more.  Just a different kind.  The paperwork’s always there, no matter what.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“You have it too, even in the Rock Star business.  Contracts, agendas, schedules, riders, employee files… not to mention all the copyright stuff.  It’s all part of the game.”

“Yeah, but I have a team of overpaid lawyers and assistants to do most of that shit for me.”

Cate snorted.  “Must be nice.  We here at the federal government try to conserve your tax dollars, and do it ourselves.”

Her snort was echoed from the other end of the line.  “Fuck, MY tax dollars probably run your whole fucking agency.”

“Well, take that up with your elected officials,” Cate argued mildly.  She grinned as she returned her attention to her computer screen, again manipulating the mouse.  It was now obvious Jon had only called to chit-chat.  He must be bored.

“I will, next time I visit 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“The President doesn’t make tax policy, Jon.  Congress does.”

“But he introduces it.  And signs it.  Or vetoes it.”

“Yes, but Congress can override his veto.”  Cate rolled her eyes even as she smirked at the benign debate.  “Are you waiting for your set call?”

“Yeah.  They’re taking for fucking ever to get rolling this morning.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“I already read the Times, front to back.”

“So do the crossword.”

“I tried.  I got stuck.  Besides, it’s stupid.”

Cate sighed softly as she double-clicked on a file.  Immediately a document appeared on her screen, a running log of her Target’s activity compiled by the teams of agents who had kept him under round-the-clock surveillance for nearly the past three months.  Her eyes narrowed as she quickly perused the last forty-eight hours’ entries.  Nothing unusual other than what Agent Doyle had already mentioned.

“Baby, I wish I could go with you today.”

Jon’s lament made Cate look away from her computer screen.  She swiveled her chair away from her desk, turning her eyes to her window.  The view of lower Manhattan from the twenty-fifth floor was normally quite impressive.  Today it was dark and dreary, the outside of the glass streaked with light wintry drizzle.

“It’s just lab work, Jon.  You’re not missing anything.”

“Cate, it’s not just lab work.” 

His gentle voice in her ear made Cate’s lips curve with a bittersweet smile.  He was right.  The protocol may be the same as any other day she had to give blood for the never-ending rounds of tests, but the results would be significant.  Today’s tests would reveal if their most recent efforts were successful.

“Yeah,” she agreed softly.  “I know.  The pregnancy test.”  She winced slightly as she said the words. 

It had been almost a relief when Dr. Klein advised them not to use a home pregnancy test following their intrauterine insemination procedure almost two weeks ago.  He had explained there was no medical reason for his advice, but he thought they needed a “mental-health break” from the responsibility of self-administering the test.  Since Cate would have to submit a blood sample to monitor the hormone levels in her body anyway, they may as well let the lab give them the news.

Today was that day.  Before they sat down for dinner tonight, they would know if there was a baby on the way.

“I hate that you’re gonna know before me.  It’s not fair.”  Cate could hear the smile in Jon’s voice as he fake-pouted. “You’re already carrying the little papoose around in your tummy, and you get to know first.”

Cate couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Jon, you don’t know what the test is gonna tell us.  It might be negative.”  She tried to sound nonchalant, even as her stomached tightened.

“Naw, I’m thinking positive.”

“Well, okay.  Do what you gotta do. But it’s still a big if…”  Cate stared unseeing at the gray skyline.  While Jon’s optimism was heartening, she just couldn’t let herself think ahead.  The disappointment would be crushing.  She had already survived the heartache of dashed hopes too many times.

“Well, I’ve been doing my part to appease the Baby-Gods.”  Jon chortled softly in her ear, determined to keep her spirits up.  “In fact… put me on speakerphone.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.  Then put the phone on your tummy.”

“Oh Good Grief.”  Cate rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.  “You can’t be serious.  I’m at work, Jon.”

“So?  Nobody’s in your office, right?  What harm will it do?”

“What good will it do?”

“Pffft.  I’m not gonna let your gloomy cop-cynicism ruin my groove.  This is just like when I get ready for a show.  The ritual.  You do the same thing every day, good things happen.  C’mon, Cate.  Put the phone against your belly.”

“I think I’m gonna hang up now.”

“No you’re not.  I’ll just call back.  And I’ll leave it on your voicemail.”

That elicited an exasperated giggle from Cate.  She had no doubt he was serious.  Jon obviously had plenty of time to amuse himself by filling her voicemail inbox.

“Jon, you can do this tonight, you know.  In person, at home.”

“Nuh-uh.  By then we’ll know.”

“When we know, is this gonna stop?”

“Maybe,  maybe not.  Do it, Cate.”

Cate let out an exaggerated sigh.  Knowing she had to give in, she pulled her iPhone from her cheek and tapped the speakerphone icon.  “Okay.”

“Alright, put the phone on your tummy.  Be sure the speaker is right down there, where she can hear.”

Chortling softly, Cate followed his direction.  Leaning back a bit in her chair, she gently laid her phone on her lower abdomen, over her womb.  She shot a glance toward her office door to be sure it was closed.  The last thing she needed was for one of her colleagues to wander past and witness the strangeness that was about to occur.  For the past week Jon had insisted on giving her womb a daily serenade, ever since they had coincidentally caught a rerun of the appropriately-themed Friends episode.

“Okay,” Cate repeated, trying to keep her voice low on the off-chance someone was paused outside her office door.  “Just… Hurry up.” 

Jon’s husky chuckle made her smile.  From the little speaker against her belly Cate heard the soft strum of an acoustic guitar.

Are you in there, Little Fetus?

In nine months will you come greet us?

I will buy you some Adidas...

Cate giggled softly in anticipation of Jon’s continuation of the silly little tune.  Every day he ad-libbed a new version.  She suspected his creativity was as much to make her laugh as it was to bolster his optimism that this time they really were pregnant.

…And anything your heart desires.

I… hope you look like your Mama…

But….. you don’t create a bunch of drama….

And…. if you wanna pet llama…

Jon paused, strumming softly as he formulated his closing lyric.

You’ll…. Have to talk to Uncle Mook.

Unable to stop herself, Cate burst out laughing at Jon’s goofy verse.  “You really are bored, aren’t you?” she teased in a half-giggle.

“Nah, not really.  I just would rather be with you, is all.”

Her giggles subsiding to a soft chortle, Cate lifted the phone from her belly.  Leaving the speaker engaged, she swiveled her chair back toward her desk and set the device carefully beside the foot of her monitor.  “You’d be bored here, too.  Nothing much to see.  Just a bunch of overworked, underpaid civil servants digging through paperwork.”

“I could hang out and have coffee with the Guys.”

Cate snorted amusedly.  “Yeah, ‘cause that would help them get through all the crap they have to do.”

“What?  I could hang with Gus.  He never seems to be doing paperwork.  He’s always out on the street, doing a stakeout or chasing bad guys.”

Shaking her head as she smiled, Cate reached again for her mouse.  If Jon wanted her to keep him company as he sat alone in his trailer on the set, she was game.  But she was going to have to get some of her own tasks done while he chattered.

“We don’t do stakeouts, Jon.  We do surveillance.  And Gus doesn’t chase anybody through the streets.  That would blow his cover.  Jeez, don’t you remember anything I taught you at The Center?”  She chided him playfully as she opened another document on her screen, then picked up a pen.

“Yeah, yeah.  But the way they say it in the movies sounds a lot cooler.”

“Mmmm.  Well, that’s because most investigation is routine.  Boring.  Writers have to fabricate some excitement or nobody would pay to see the movie.

“Ah.  Speaking of Gus, why haven’t you invited him over for dinner yet?  You afraid to let me meet him?”

“No.  There just hasn’t been a good time yet.  Hell, we’ve hardly been home.”

“We’re home this week.  Ask him over.  Maybe Friday night.”

Cate smirked as she scribbled a note on her legal pad.   Jon knew full well that they had dinner plans on Friday, in celebration of his birthday.  He just had no idea of the full extent of those plans.

“We’re going out Friday.  Celebrating your birthday, remember?”

“Shit.  We don’t need to celebrate that.  It’s just another day.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Cate rolled her eyes at his mock-protest.  Despite his grumbling about his age she knew Jon welcomed the attention.  “Then we’ll just go out to dinner because I want to go out to dinner.  Not a word will be spoken about you being half-a-century old.”

“Fine.”  Jon let out a noisy fake-sigh.  “So, bring your partner home for dinner on Thursday.  We don’t have anything going on then, do we?”

“No, but Gus does.”

“What?”

Cate sighed and dropped her pen on the lined pad.  She reached for her travel mug and took a sip of now-tepid tea.  “He’s not here, Jon.  Gus is on leave this week.  So, he can’t come to dinner Thursday.”

“Oh.  He’s on vacation, huh?”

“Yep.”  Cate flipped open another section of the case file.

“Someplace warm, I hope.  The weather here this week is gonna suck ass.”

Cate started to thumb through the thick stack of papers affixed to the file section.  “He went home to San Diego.  His sister is getting married this weekend.”

“San Diego, huh?  That’s nice.  Thought maybe you were gonna tell me he went back to Florida.”

Cate chuckled.  “No.  He’s there enough for work.  I doubt he has any desire to go down there on his free time.”

“Not even Disney World?”

“He’s not a little kid, Jon.”  Finding the page she was looking for, Cate reached for a Post-It note.  She affixed the little yellow square to the paper and scrawled a comment.

A long, breathy sigh sounded through the speaker.  “Man, I could use a beach right about now.”

Cate smiled at the thought.  “Me too.  Someplace warm.  Where we could just lay on the sand and listen to the ocean…”

“Well, why don’t we go?”

“Because it’s Monday and we’re at work.”

“No, I mean this weekend.  You take Friday off, we’ll jet down to Saint Barth, soak up a little sun.”

Jon’s suggestion made Cate look up from her file.  Her eyes widened as she recognized the potential crisis.  They couldn’t go out of town, especially not Friday.  Over a hundred people would be waiting for his arrival at the Carnegie Club to kick off his birthday celebration.

“Baby, as nice as that sounds… we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Umm…”  Cate glanced around her desk, searching for some inspiration for an excuse.  “Because…”  Her gaze dropped to the file in front of her.  Her partner’s messy handwriting gave her the out.  “Because.  With Gus out of town, I’m on call.  If something happens with this case I can’t be hundreds of miles away.”

“You’ll have your phone.  And ain’t that why you have a Duty Agent?  To cover whatever shit happens until the case agent can get her butt back to the office?”

“Shit.” Cate’s swear was a whispered breath.   Jon knew he was right.  Time to rely on the timeless law enforcement excuse. 

“Yeah, but Jon… there’s stuff going on.  I can’t tell you what, but… well, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon grumbled an exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  We’ll stay here in cold, dreary New York because some numbnuts is doing bad shit that you can’t tell me about.”  He petulantly sneered the last words.

Cate chuckled, relieved he wasn’t going to push her on the topic.  “You know, Baby, just because we have the means to jet off at moment’s notice doesn’t mean we always should.  Besides, I really have no desire to spend the weekend running from the fucking paparazzi.”  For the first time in their conversation her voice took on a bitter note.

“We could just slip into town, stay at our resort or villa or whatever.  They’d never know we’re there.”

“Jon, they always know when you’re there.  It’s a tiny island, and they pay off the locals.”

“You know, maybe we should buy a place somewhere warm.  Then we’d always have a house to go to.  Not necessarily St. Barth… maybe Costa Rica or Belize or someplace like that.”

“Mmmm….” Cate hummed a mildly disinterested response as she returned her attention to her case file.  Since Jon had wandered off on another tangent, she might as well multitask as she half-listened.

“… Jake and Romey would love it, having their own private beach.  They could surf year-round instead of just in the summer, like up here.  You know, I think I’m gonna have Maude look into that for me, see what she can come up with in terms of listings…”

“I’m sure she’ll find something.”  Cate smirked through her murmured reply.  Real estate agents always found something for clients like Jon.  Commissions on luxury properties were a great motivator.

“John goes down there a lot.  And when we played San Jose it was great.  Beautiful place.”

“Mmmm hmmm…”

“But then again, there’s not a ton of nightlife, like St. Barth.  Or shopping.”

“Or paparazzi.”

“Did you like the villa where we stayed at Christmas?  I could make an offer on it.”

“It was nice.”  Cate looked up from the case file to the monitor as she again manipulated her computer mouse to open another file.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really that big.  If we took the whole family down it might be a little crowded.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I should think about buying a boat.  Then we could go wherever we want.”

Cate snorted amusedly, recognizing that by “boat” Jon actually meant “yacht.”  He had long been envious of his friend Ron’s luxury vessel, where they had spent several pampered vacation stays.  “And then you’d have to pay a full-time crew.  Which would mean bye-bye to your football team prospects, at least for awhile.”

“Yeah, well…”  Jon growled a little hmmph, a wordless acknowledgement of his wife’s sensible advice.  “Still, it would be nice to have a little vacation getaway place, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Baby.  If it makes you happy, I’m all for it.”

“But it probably should be someplace close, so we don’t have to fly for fucking ever to get to it.”

“That sounds practical.”

“Well, other than the Caribbean…”

Jon’s musing was interrupted by a sharp buzz, followed by a deep voice crackling from Cate’s office intercom speaker.

“Cate?  You at your desk?”

She looked up at the sound of her supervisor’s voice.  “Yeah, Al.  I’m on an open line.”  Cate’s reply let him know she was in a conversation on speakerphone with someone not belonging to their professional circle.

“When you’re done, I need you to come down.”

Cate glanced at her iPhone, thankful that Jon had stopped his ramble upon hearing her interruption.  “It’s nothing urgent.  I can come now.  Your office?”

“I’m in the OCC.”

“On my way.”

 Cate waited for the click of the closing connection before re-addressing her husband.  “Sorry Baby, but I gotta go.”

His deep chortle made her smile.  “Ah, duty calls.  S’Okay.”

“I’ll text you later.  Have a good shoot, okay?”

“ ‘Kay.  Love you, Baby.  Now go fight crime.”

Cate chuckled softly.  “Love you too.  Bye.”  She reached for her phone, tapping lightly to end the call, then leaving the device on her desk. There was no sense in returning it to its holster at her waist; she wouldn’t be allowed to take it into the secure Operations Control Center anyway.

Grabbing her metal travel mug and rising from her desk chair, Cate quickly crossed the room and slipped through her office door into the hallway.  She paused at the office coffee bar long enough to refresh her tea with a shot of hot water before continuing to the private elevator at the rear of the office suite.  A fifteen-second ride took her one floor down to the windowless, secure suite that housed the OCC.

Touching her access badge to the electronic pad next to the door, Cate waited for the light to flash before turning the knob.  She passed through a second set of doors and into the inner sanctum of the Manhattan Field Office, the place where around the clock a rotating staff monitored operations being conducted by their agency around the world. 

“Hey, Al.  What’s up?”  Cate greeted the Special Agent in Charge Alfred Quinn with a small smile.  She could see in his expression that he was perplexed by something.

“ ‘Morning, Cate.  Your Boy is on the move.”  He nodded at one of two dozen flat-screen video monitors mounted on the wall. 

Cate’s brows arched, her expression registering her surprise as her eyes turned to the image on the screen.  “What?  I was just on the phone with Doyle, not fifteen minutes ago.  He said Target was still at home.”  She scanned the video, a scene from a familiar location she knew well from personal experience.  “What the…?”

“Teterboro.  He just boarded that Lear.  It’s private, we’re checking the tail number and waiting for the flight plan.”

Cate’s blue eyes narrowed as she evaluated the small white executive jet depicted in the live video feed.  It was apparently waiting for clearance to depart, sitting on the tarmac with its engines running and its nose pointed torward the taxiway.  “This is real-time?”  She murmured the question though she knew then answer.

“The Newark team is on him.”

“Billy and Danielle,” Cate affirmed, nodding.  “Lenny was going to check with them and get back to me.”

“Well, as you can see they’re kinda busy right now.”  For the first time Quinn’s sober expression lightened.  He gave Cate a little smirk.  “You Boy’s just full of surprises.  Especially on a Goddamned Monday morning.”

“Yeah,” Cate agreed, nodding slowly.  “The advance of his schedule we got from our source last Friday showed pretty much meetings and sessions for today and tomorrow.  Later this week he has a bunch of public appearances slated.”  She frowned at the screen, not taking her eyes off the video feed.

“Any idea where he’s headed?”

“Noplace we’re aware of.  It could be something personal, though.  His Mother isn’t well.”  Cate took a sip from her tea.  “Can’t be a junket.  It would be on his official schedule, and he wouldn’t be on a private jet.  We don’t know whose it is yet?”

“Max is on it.  We should have an ID momentarily.  And wherever he’s headed, he’s planning to stay awhile.  Team reported he took a suitcase and a smaller bag on board.”

“Hmm.”  Cate turned toward the line of workstations that sat in the middle of the room.  “Hey, Jeannie?”

The dark-haired analyst turned at the sound of her name.  “Yeah?” 

“Can you get Miami on the line?   Silvio, if he’s in.”

“Standby.”

Cate and her Supervisor stood quietly for the next minute, watching the video stream of the stationary aircraft as each considered the possibilities.  As a New Jersey public official, their Target had no official duties outside the state scheduled for the week.  But as a corrupt politician, he very likely had other business to take care of.  His trips to Florida had increased in frequency over the past few months.  Now that it was an election year, Assemblyman Valentin DiCarlo was a very busy man.

“Cate, Silvio on Two.”

Cate reached for the receiver of the bulky piece of machinery mounted on the nearby computer station.  Though it was a state-of-the-art encrypted communications device, the secure phone station looked like something out of a 1970s spy movie. 

“Hey, Sil.  Al’s here, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” After the perfunctory warning, Cate punched the button.  Immediately the agent’s good-natured greeting poured from the station.

“Hola, Compadres.  Happy fucking Monday morning, eh?”  Silvio’s baritone chuckle made Cate smile as she addressed the secure phone.

“Jeannie tell you what’s up?”

“Cupid’s out for a spin, eh?”

Cate chuckled.  Silvio had been the one to assign their Target’s code-name.  It was fitting, given his first name.  “Yeah.  Any idea where?”

“Nope.  Nothin’ in the chatter down here.  Maybe he’s going to see his Mama?”

“That was my guess too.”  Cate nodded though her colleague couldn’t see her.

“Hey Al!  Teterboro came through.”  A silver-haired man turned from his cubicle to call to Agent Quinn.  “Plane is owned by Duque Importers, Coral Gables.  Destination Opa-Locka.”

“Shit.” Cate shook her head wonderingly.  “Looks like he is coming back your way, Sil.”

“Awfully rude of him not to call first.”  The Miami field agent chortled.  “We’ll pick him up.  You got eyes on?”

“Yeah, the Newark team’s at Teterboro.  Plane hasn’t taxied yet.”

“So we got a couple hours.  No sweat.” 

Cate and her supervisor exchanged a look as they heard Silvio give marching orders to someone at his own office.  “Now the question is, why?”  Agent Quinn voiced their shared thought.

“Hey, Sil?  Anything going on down there this week that Cupid would be interested in?”

“Not that I know of, but Yvette’s right here, doing an open source search.”  Silvio referred to his Investigative Assistant, a bright, computer-savvy young woman Cate had spent a good amount of time with on her last trip to the Miami Field Office.  She had been impressed by Yvette’s efficiency and instincts.

“What’s Duque Importers?”  Cate posed the question to the speaker, confident Yvette could hear it as well.  “That a name you know?”

“They’re a pretty big shipping company, Cuban-American ownership.”  Silvio answered immediately, without need for research.  “We don’t know them from an investigative viewpoint; they’re just well-known down here, lots of ads and good reputation.  Mainly handles luxury goods:  cars, furnishings, art, booze… that kinda stuff.  Owner is one of the society big shots down here.  Into polo ponies and shit.  Hot wife, former Miss Argentina or somethin'.”

Cate chuckled at Silvio’s informal dossier on the company and its ownership.  He was a confirmed bachelor who appreciated the finer things in life, including women.  He never failed to notice a pretty face or a nice figure.

“So why is our North Jersey Italian boy flying to Miami on a Cuban Importer’s private plane?”  Cate stated the obvious.  “Do they know each other?  I don’t recall seeing any connection in the logs.”

“Dunno.  Maybe we’ll find out in a few hours.”  Silvio chuckled.  “Follow somebody around long enough and you can find out lotsa stuff.”

“That you can,” Cate agreed with a grin, taking another sip of tea.

From the speaker came a female voice, more distant than Silvio’s.  “Got it.  ‘Affair of the Arts,’ tomorrow night.”

“What?”  Cate automatically took a step closer to the speaker, as if to hear the announcement more clearly.  “What’s tomorrow?”

Silvio’s rich laugh sounded at Cate’s eager query.  “Yvette does it again.  She’s the best danged Computer Nerd since that Chloe girl on ’24’.  That took her about a minute and a half."

“Hey, Google is your Friend!”   Cate giggled quietly as she heard Yvette call from the background.  

"So, what is it?”

“Looks like our Cupid is going to some kinda charity ball or something.  It’s called ‘Affair of the Arts’, for the Miami Family Hope Project… provides food bank, child care, and job training assistance for low-income families… yadda yadda yadda…”  Silvio’s rich voice trailed to a mumble as he obviously scanned whatever source document Yvette had printed for him. 

“Oh yeah, here we go.  Hosted by Oscar and Isabel Duque at their home, Tradewinds Estates, tomorrow night…. Guest list includes Our Boy, lots of society Who’s-Whos… And Whoo!  Twenty-five hundred dollars a plate!  Better be some good food at that picnic, if ya know what I’m sayin’!”

Cate laughed at Silvio’s commentary even as her puzzlement grew.  “Why on earth would Our Guy pay that kinda dough to go to some charity event in Florida?  And not put it on his schedule? It had to be a last-minute deal; he either cancelled out his meetings over the weekend or he’s missing them back here.  And why would he fly there on the host’s plane?  There’s gotta be some other kinda connection.”

“Wait a minute… I got the full guest list now…”  Cate could picture Silvio scowling seriously as he read through what was sure to be a long list of names.  “AH! Oh… Sonofabitch!” 

“What?”  Cate and Al’s anxious query came in stereo.

“Lookie, lookie.  There’s a section at the bottom, for ‘Top Tier Donors.’  Apparently these rich hoity-toities who donate ten grand or more are invited on an ‘Exclusive Moonlight Cruise’ aboard the Duque’s yacht…”  Silvio snorted a laugh before announcing the vessel’s name. “… ‘Stamina’.  Wanna guess whose name is on that list?”

“Cupid’s.”  Cate announced with confidence.

“Well, yeah.  But who else?  Here’s a hint:  Friend-a-Ours from Saddle River, winters in Boca.  Likes to bet the ponies at Hialeah?  When he’s not overseeing the ‘chemical importation’ business outta Merida.”  Silvio snorted as he referred to the known smuggling of designer drugs from Mexico into South Florida by Mafia soldiers.

“No shit?” Cate gasped softly.  “Moretti?”

“One and the same.”  Silvio chuckled richly.  “Guess he got bored, hangin’ around down here all winter with nothing to do but bikini-watch and play with his horsies.  At least he’s givin’ his money to a good cause.”

Cate chortled.  “Oh, I’m sure that money’s coming right from his own pocket.”

“Betcha he picked up the tab for Cupid, too.”

Special Agent Quinn had listened silently to the exchange between the two case agents.  Now he spoke up.  “The question is, what’s going to happen at that party -- or on that boat -- that makes our guy go all the way down there?”

Cate shook her head slowly as the wheels turned in her mind.  “I don’t know, Al.  This is all new to us.”

Al addressed the secure phone as if it were the Miami agent.  “Sil, can we get somebody in there?”

“This short-a notice?  Maybe.  We can probably set somebody up as a bartender, waiter, security guy… somethin’ like that.  But that’s not gonna give us much access.  If this wasn’t at their house it would be easier.”

“How about just buying a ticket?  Are they still for sale?”

Cate heard Silvio mutter to Yvette, then there was a short pause before he answered.  “Yeah, tickets are still available.  But this ain’t one of those things we can really buy our way in, either.  Would be too suspicious, somebody showin’ up without a good reason.  These people are the movers and shakers in Miami social circles, the business tycoons and their wives who do charity work.  They all know each other.  With more time we could put together a cover for one of our people, get them in there as some kinda nonprofit director or something, but this late in the game it would be too risky.”

“Unless we already happen to have our own bonafide celebrity with a strong interest in charity.”  Al’s quiet observation made Cate’s blue eyes widen.

“Al….”

“Not your husband.”  Agent Quinn clarified.  “You.”

Cate stiffened.  “Al, I’m not a celebrity.  I do everything in my power to stay out of the limelight, so that people don’t know what I do for a living.  You know that.”

“Yes, I do.  But if Mrs. Jon Bon Jovi should happen to be in Miami for a shopping trip, and should want to support a good cause that caught her attention, who’s gonna tell her no?”  Al smirked confidently.  “Your husband’s foundation is as high-profile as he is.  And it deals with low-income family issues, just like the charity they’re throwing this fundraiser for.  We couldn’t dream up a better backstory than you already have.”

Cate was silent for a moment, considering her supervisor’s rationale.  The idea of using Jon’s foundation as a cover for her professional duties made her uneasy.  She knew he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about the idea, either, if she consulted him.

Not that she ever could tell him about it.  

She sighed softly as she realized Agent Quinn was right… there really was no other way.  What was about to happen in Miami could break their case wide open, could expand their little New-Jersey based public corruption investigation to potentially international criminal activity.  And the only way to do that was to have an eyewitness account of what went on between two prominent figures at a private charity event.

Slowly Cate nodded, meeting Al’s gaze.  He gave her a confident smile.

“Agent Sullivan, you need to get yourself on the next plane to Miami.”