It was like living in a foreign country, acclimating to their language. Then returning home to find your own language is now incomprehensible. – Jase, explaining meeting Amélie again after Banff.

…he that is restored to his thinking, is restored to himself. – Daniel Defoe

Jase exited the taxi a block away from ProtoComm's now defunct New York headquarters, surprised by the level of activity still hinted at by the traffic traveling in and out the front doors. Thomas had come through beautifully, and Jase still had two hours to kill before his meeting with Amélie. Though he knew that a new corporation had ostensibly purchased ProtoComm's assets, an actual transfer of ownership usually preceded a lull in activity. ProtoComm New York looked even busier than usual.

Of course, transfers of power often camouflaged a mere restructuring rather than a true sale. Judging by the tenor of Jack's phone call, he and his underlings had managed to retain some control of the telecom paragon's assets, and Bill no doubt kept an eye on things, too. Certainly, Jase doubted that the new corporation had hired as many familiar faces as Jase recognized coming from the building. Before Jase agreed to work for Jack Buckley, he wanted to know exactly who pulled the strings behind his operation.

Jase drew his hat and gloves gratefully from his pockets. Thanks to a cold front, he could credibly don the masking apparel without drawing undue attention to himself. Without looking up, Jase buried his hands in his overcoat pockets and barreled quickly across the street and into the tall steel skyscraper. He paid close attention to the angles from the walls, working hard to keep his face out of range of the several cameras he knew dotted the edges of the entrance and lobby.

Peering up from under his eyelids, Jase spotted a familiar face at the reception desk, and though a different person could possibly have caused him problems, this face spoke nothing but good fortune. He slid covertly up to the front desk.

“Isobel,” he intoned his a rich, baritone thrum.

Surprised, the lovely young receptionist glanced up into a face that obviously sent her heart racing. Jase smirked as he saw her professional demeanor falter slightly.

“Wow,” she hardly tried to hide her excitement. “It's great to see you, Jase.”

Her voice stroked his name, and Jase felt immediately assured of success.

“Do you know somewhere more private we could talk?” His eyes never left hers as he answered to her overt flirtation.

“Of course,” she curved her lips seductively. “Give me a minute.”

Isobel punched several buttons with her long, manicured fingers and slid cat-like from her high perch behind the counter. True to form, she wore a skin-tight pencil skirt that fell just to her knees and a tastefully plunging neckline on her ruffled blouse. Her stilettos added several inches to her diminutive height.

Without glancing at him, she walked to his side and surreptitiously grabbed his hand. She led him down a short hall and into an office stacked full of boxes. Not turning on the lights, she assaulted Jase as soon as the door shut behind them. Her hands began without overture to roam across his sweater, and she slid them beneath his jackets, running her palms up his back. With her lips, she attacked him where she could reach, nipping gently along his neck as she waited for him to lift her to his lips.

“Oh, Jase,” she whined. “Are you just going to stand there?”

Heated sexuality emanated from Isobel, but Jase didn't let himself respond with too much engagement. Still, he liked Isobel and certainly needed to avoid offending her if he were to uncover the information he sought from her. Accordingly, he wove his arms behind her back and raised her up several inches until their lips touched. When his lips met hers, he laughed to himself; he'd certainly had less pleasant duties in his profession.

After several minutes of indulging Isobel, Jase curved his lips into a smile beneath hers, effectively halting her revelry. “You call this 'talk'?” he questioned.

Isobel sighed in frustration. “I wish you didn't only come to see me when you wanted something.”

Gently, he placed her back on the floor and continued gazing at her with a sideways smile. “I could say the same for you, Isobel. You always want something from me.”

Though she turned away from him quickly, Jase couldn't miss the coy twist of her lips in response to his assertion. Jase grabbed her by the hand, and she offered little resistance when he pulled her back to him and wrapped his arms around her waist. He could just make out a pout in the light that filtered through the closed blinds.

“Do you really want to waste our time together being unhappy?” Jase accused. “You know as well as I that you never wanted more than a physical relationship from me. Are you going to get possessive now?”

“Possessive?” she laughed good-naturedly. “Yes. I have not possessed you in a very long time.”

“And this is hardly the place.

She sighed again. “I know. You're right. Why do you have to be so rational all the time?”

Pinning her with his eyes, Jase turned their bodies so that he trapped her between his chest and the wall. “Because, Isobel, if I let myself lose control, I could die.”

He knew that she knew this, and though Isobel acted injured, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself up to kiss him one last time. “Fine. Just tell me what you need.”

Jase stepped back an inch, but Isobel did not relinquish her hold on his neck. He plodded on regardless. “Who's running the show here now?” he pressed.

“ProtoComm has been purchased by Manchester Regional and is under the guardianship of Abiro Mgande,” Isobel quoted as if she read from a press release.

“Right,” Jase raised his eyebrows. “I said, who's running the show?”

“Who do you think? It's Jack.”

“That's what I figured. Did he ever lose control of the company?”

“Not remotely. He has relocated, though. Last I heard he was somewhere down south.”

“Have you heard anything about Bill?”

Isobel raised herself to kiss him once again. “I might as well get as much out of this as I can,” she asserted, tilting her head at him demurely. “Other than the odd mention of his name, I've heard nothing. He certainly hasn't shown up.”

“I would assume not, considering how high a price is on his head. Has Jack returned to New York?”

“No,” she allowed, “but the real power players do talk about him often, albeit not publicly.”

Suddenly sober, Jase did not move for several seconds. Last he had heard, Bill had high-tailed his way out of the U.S. as fast as possible, and Jase hadn't expected that the CEO could manipulate too much from so long a distance. Though Jase had gathered the fact that Bill played some role in the affairs of ProtoComm, Jase hadn't really believed that the CEO could maintain total control.

When he considered the possibility, Jase shivered. In all of his past dealings - whether with mob bosses, drug lords, weapons traffickers – Jase had never encountered a man as utterly sociopathic as Bill Henry. Everyone had a moral center, even the most heartless criminal. Bill Henry had one ethic: the ethic of power. Unfortunately for Jase, that ethic used whatever means presented themselves. Money, influence, force, persuasion. Through disciplined calculation, Bill had mastered them all. If Jack offered a plan that came from Bill, it would no doubt compromise Jase's principles. Now that Jase understood the reality of the situation, he could meet Amélie with a measure of confidence whatever she might ask.

As he had conversed with Isobel, Jase had placed his hands against the wall on either side of her face. Suddenly coming to himself, he raised his eyes to his watch. He had no more time; Jase needed to wrap up his meeting with Isobel immediately. Staring down at the petite brunette, Jase felt a very small pang of guilt at her inevitable disappointment when he left. He might question her morals, but he never questioned her loyalty. Never had she exposed any of his unusual activities or questions. Never had he worried about consulting her.

A strange, confusing woman. He reached down to her waist and wove his arms behind her, lifting her from where she stood. Protecting her with his arms, he pressed her against the wall, crushing her gently against it with his body. With his left hand, he released her waist and tangled his fingers into her hair. Then he closed the small distance between their lips and smothered her gasp of pleasure with the soft warmth of his mouth upon hers. After several moments, he lowered her to the ground without releasing her lips, and then finally, he stepped away.

Isobel stood frozen, her eyes closed in pleasure, as Jase trailed his lips from her mouth to her ear.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and placed one last kiss behind her ear before turning and walking out the door.

Behind him, he heard a low chuckle and smiled to himself at Isobel's obvious pleasure. He hadn't disappointed her too badly.

Glancing down at his watch again, Jase hurriedly hailed a taxi that drove toward him a few minutes later. He had approximately an hour and ten minutes to traverse a fifty-eight-minute drive; he hated cutting it close. Maybe he could explain his tardiness by the smell of Isobel's perfume. Jase smiled. The hint of another woman might hurt his case with Amélie or it might help. Since he only intended to assess her current state of affairs, her state of mind mattered little. Once Jase had figured out what Amélie knew, he could decide his course of action regarding Bill.

With Bill's move out of the mainstream, the “telecom company” had relocated its New York headquarters from a very visible Manhattan skyscraper to the relative obscurity of Bohemia. Jase glanced at his watch again, though he refused to let himself worry over Amélie's temper. Fortunately or unfortunately, his mind provided itself with a distraction in the new information he had received from Isobel.

Though Jase had known with fair certainty the state of ProtoComm's affairs, he now had first hand confirmation that Bill still ran the show, so “Jack's” target actually came from Bill, and Jase did not like the prospects of someone in Bill's sights. Whoever the man had targeted would have, not only the vast intelligence and wealth of Bill Henry after her, but also all of the infrastructure that made Bill's job easier.

Forty-five minutes and two hundred dollars later, Jase approached the street across from the Japanese restaurant that fronted the secluded cocktail bar. He had definitely beaten Amélie to their meeting place thanks to his excessive tip to the cabbie, and Jase spent several minutes surveying the property from different perspectives. Though he expected no trouble, Jase could not take anything for granted. Whatever Bill had planned, he would have planned it thoroughly, and with several contingencies. Jase had to wonder if he would encounter some agent of ProtoComm scouting his liaison with Amélie. Still, though the meeting carried a risk, Jase had to go through with it. If nothing else, base curiosity drove him, since Jack claimed to have picked Jase for his unique position, and Jase wondered what exactly that meant.

After twenty minutes of surveillance, Jase entered the club having noticed nothing amiss. He should have known that Amélie wouldn't countenance supervision by Bill or anyone else. Without pause, Jase sauntered past the short line to his reserved booth which overlooked the light-strewn street. Once Amélie arrived, the pair would not, like many a normal couple, idly waste time discussing the comings and goings of the passersby outside their window. Intent on his business, Jase glued his gaze to the entrance where he every second anticipated Amélie's arrival.

Finally, his eyes encountered a pair of legs that rivaled any he had ever seen. Raking his glance slowly up her length, Jase recognized the exaggerated curve of her hips as they flared from her tiny waist. The low cut of her tight-fitting dress accentuated her ample cleavage, and Jase laughed internally as he watched several male heads follow her gliding form as if pulled by a magnet. He even laughed aloud when an incensed girlfriend slapped her date on the arm as a result.

Yes, Amélie could turn heads, literally.

As she approached, Jase rose politely and grasped her arm firmly in his hand, pulling her toward him and placing his gentlest kiss on her cheek. She would, no doubt, expect more, and Jase feared that tonight might prove the unforgivable end to their tempestuous relationship. Unlike Isobel, Amélie would not find a kiss a satisfactory payment for information.

“Bonsoir, mon cher,” she offered pleasantly, her tone somehow free from the animosity that her phone call had presaged.

“Amélie,” he spoke her name like a dear friend, and Amélie seated herself in her typically erect, statuesque fashion. “Please forgive me for neglecting you,” he pleaded warmly, sure that Amélie would expect cool calculation instead. “It was inexcusable.”

Rather than accept his apology, Amélie adopted a plastic smile, completely at odds with her usual kittenish attitude. “Jack has need of your services, you know,” she insisted. “I am aware he has contacted you.”

Under normal circumstances, Amélie would not dive directly into business with Jase, and he took the action now as indication of her irritation at him. Such a state of affairs could not remain. “So, you are not 'the business' that he called me about?” he questioned solicitously. The idea had just occurred to Jase that he had an inside track on Amélie, and perhaps Bill wanted to use that knowledge to subvert her in some way. Showing his concern about her might accomplish what his apology could not.

“I had thought,” he explained to her more open countenance, “that perhaps Jack marked you as a target; that's why I wanted to see you.”

The remnants of Amélie's cold facade melted completely, and Jase watched with pleasure as she adopted the mock pout that she wore when she wanted to play coy. “So, you only agreed to meet me because you thought I was in danger?” Though she affected affliction, Jase could see how much the realization pleased her.

“Not the only reason, but the main reason. I know you can take care of yourself, but I could not bear the thought that Jack might target you, not while I could prevent it.”

Again, Amélie hid a smile of pleasure at his words. “Jase,” she spoke with much more warmth. “I am not the mission; I came here to deliver a message. Just say yes. What Jack asks is truly not very involved. I know you wish to relax, but if you just accept this one little job, and he'll keep your position open. He's not sure what to make of the distance you've made between yourself and ProtoComm. After the last assignment,” Amélie's moment of animosity no doubt stemmed from the memory of Felicity, “management felt concern about your state of mind. Will you do this for me? Just throw them a bone, so to speak.”

She gazed up searchingly into his eyes. Amazing how well she could play at earnestness when she wanted something. For the first time in their meeting, the ice of Amélie's restrained melted completely, and she leaned forward into his space, running her hand up his arm to grip his bicep. Her other hand rested tantalizingly on his knee, and she slid closer to him on the bench. Even with their overplayed relationship, Jase could not miss the heat of her fingertips where they skimmed over the denim of his jeans. Not that he would acknowledge any reaction to her.

“What are we talking here? Movement of merchandise, weapons, human goods?” With his new knowledge, Jase couldn't help throwing in the last item on the list. He just managed to restrain the bitterness from his voice. Apparently, Amélie recognized the sentiment anyway and renewed irritation washed over her face. Jase had intended the question as a blanket censure of Bill's new business, but she seemed to interpret his disgust as more focused.

“So, noble,” she mocked, irritatedly removing her hands from him. “Does your amante insist that you give up every source of self-support or just the ones she doesn't like? Is she wealthy enough to keep you on a leash?” Eaten with envy, Jase realized.

Amélie could have no knowledge of Felicity Miller's utter rejection of Jase - he had no amante - and Jase decided not to enlighten her. Ironically, his rejection of the Frenchwoman for the arms of another woman would sting Amélie less than for some vague moral sensibilities. Amélie understood love, or at least the outward expressions of it.

“What is it you want me to do?” he begged, a bit remorseful for the separation he would drive between them.

Rather than reply with more emotion, Amélie shrugged her shoulders as if Jase's madness could not be helped. Even though he had foreseen her indifference, such knowledge did not lessen the sting. He forced himself to focus as she unfolded his surprisingly easy task.

“We need a schematic,” she informed him, her demeanor now coldly professional.

“So, call Braden. He's more qualified than I am.”

Amélie rolled her eyes in disgust. “No, no one is more qualified than you,” she insisted. “But I understand, you are right. This is quite manageable for any number of lesser people.”

Lesser people? Jase huffed.

“Then why...?” he said aloud. Such an easy assignment must imply Jack's intent to test him.

“You are already in position,” Amélie answered easily. “The security manufacturer headquarters in San Antonio, in the computer corridor of town. Everyone knows that you have moved there, though I cannot imagine why. Since we have been forced to reorganize, we have fewer human resources to spare and must branch out into more creative solutions. You, Jase,” she leaned closer to him and slid her hand up to his thigh, “are very creative.”

Amélie conveyed so many insinuations in her final declaration that Jase almost grinned, but his amusement would have insulted the professional seductress, and Jase had no penchant for cruelty. “I can get the schematic,” he agreed just as Amélie leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. If he helped her, he realized, he would have trouble facing himself in the mirror when he returned to San Antonio. Not that he held any great objection to helping Amélie, but he had fled to San Antonio, he had sought out Drew, expressly because he had lost his appetite for Amélie's line of work. Only by categorizing his current work in a different category could Jase continue on his day-to-day route.

If he provided the security schematic, it would bother his conscience little. He would be able to monitor the property to make sure no one broke in to it. Maybe he would even use the mission to bring the team in and impress them.

Jase hated to help Bill Henry in any capacity, though. Because the man could count on Jase to bury his head and ignore crimes, Bill had targeted Felicity Miller for, not only destruction, but torment and torture for as long as she could manage to stay alive. Considering her generally sheltered existence, it would not have been long. At the thought, Jase wanted to retrieve his AR-15 and mow down Bill and his entire entourage – Jase didn’t bury his head anymore.

Huffing deeply, Amélie leaned back from Jase's obvious coolness. Jase knew the source of his indifference toward Amélie; he saw himself in her, the man he had been. Up until Felicity busted into his life, he had never met a woman who enticed him as much as Amélie had. Because I worship myself, he scoffed. The sugar-coated masquerade of Amélie's character could not compete against the rich depth and raw innocence of honest people. Even when Felicity lay beyond his grasp, Jase somehow could not swallow an empty substitute.

“Then we will send you the information tonight,” Amélie informed him, rising stiffly to her most elegant height. As he stood in response, Amélie offered him her hand, not as an expression of affection, but in the coldest manner she could manage. “Adieu, monsieur” she invoked the formal dismissal and spun away from him without another glance. Shaking his head, Jase's eyes followed her performance out the door before he himself strode into the brisk grey air of New York City.