As it turned out, Ryan was forced to call Hawkins sooner than he expected, and not with good news. The next morning, Ryan arrived at the office to find that they had lost another agent. It was all over the Agency. The story was that Cross had sent someone to interview the mother of one of the dead bank robbers. It was supposed to be a very simple, straightforward task, no danger at all. When he didn’t come back and no one could reach him on his cell or her home phone, Cross had gone over there himself. What he found was Agent Donovan, dead in the woman’s living room, along with the woman he’d been sent to interview. There were no outward signs of trauma, but when the medical examiner arrived, he noted the slight smell of bitter almonds on both of the victims. They found two glasses of partially consumed Iced Tea on the coffee table, which the medical examiner also said smelled of almonds. The official testing was still to be done, but everyone knew how they had died. Cyanide poisoning. They found poison in several of the glasses in the house too. The note was found later, tucked in inside Agent Donovan’s badge. It read simply,

Parabellum-3; Cross-0.

At least try to make this interesting for me, Agent Cross. Or do you need more motivation?

Ryan found it especially chilling that Parabellum’s count failed to include any of the civilian casualties thus far, only the 3 NIA agents. As if civilians were mere cannon fodder in his personal war. Word was that Cross was taking the news badly. It wasn’t surprising. Ryan had seen all of the reports, read all of the case files from the Parabellum incidents and he had noticed a disturbing trend: with each successive incident, the agent in charge had unravelled faster. It seemed counterintuitive, most people assumed that the more someone knew about what they were facing, the easier it was to deal with, but in this case all they really knew was that they were facing down inevitable torture and death. Every time Parabellum won his little game, his infamy grew, and he had gradually become more myth than man. By this point, he was considered practically invincible, unbeatable, and Cross now found himself the sole object of the untouchable killer’s attentions. Despair ran just below the surface of the investigation. That would be enough to unhinge anyone. And it was with that encouraging thought in mind that Ryan turned the corner and ran straight into Ethan Cross himself.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, backing away and trying to continue on his way.

“I’m not,” Cross growled, grabbing Ryan by the arm. “You are just the person I was looking for.”

Cross looked like hell; his eyes were bloodshot; his face was drawn and haggard. It was obvious that the rumours were not exaggerated; his starring role in this little drama was taking its toll on him. He was certainly a very different man from the confident, collected agent he had met only a couple of weeks ago. Ryan didn’t have much time to reflect on this, however, because Cross had dragged him roughly into an empty interrogation room and pushed him up hard against the cold cement wall. His forearm was now pressing firmly into Ryan’s throat, and that was more than a little distracting.

“You and I, we need to have a chat,” Cross snarled. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

For a moment, Ryan was sure that Cross knew everything. He had to know something about their investigation of Parabellum, or why would he be singling him out like this?

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryan stammered, trying to think. How was he going to get out of this? Should he admit what he knew to Cross, and risk everything?

“Don’t give me that shit. People saw you. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Saw me? Doing what?” Ryan asked, terrified that he had blown their cover somehow. He wracked his brain, how could Cross know?

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stone. People saw you leaving that bar with my sister!” Cross growled.

Ryan had never been more relieved in his life to be facing an irate older brother. This was something he was used to dealing with, though admittedly it usually involved less choking. Usually.

“Look, Cross,” he rasped, the increasing pressure on his throat was beginning to make speaking difficult. “It isn’t what you think.”

“The hell it isn’t! Everyone here knows how you are with women, Stone. Amanda is my little sister. You stay the hell away from her, or you will have me to deal with, understand?”

“I understand. It won’t happen again. Really!” Ryan struggled to take a breath. This was starting to get dangerous. Cross was obviously a protective brother, and that, combined with his recent… problems, was clearly making him a bit unstable. Ryan tried to shift the focus of the conversation away from Amanda,

“I’m sorry about Agent Donovan.”

Pain flashed in Cross’ eyes. He abruptly released his grip on Ryan and stepped away. Ryan dropped to the ground and doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

Cross sunk to his knees, head in his hands. For a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he seemed to regain some composure.

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“I’m sorry,” Cross muttered, looking at the floor. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I shouldn’t have…”

“No, I get it,” Ryan said softly. “You have enough to worry about without worrying about her too.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“It’ll be alright,” Ryan made an attempt to comfort him.

Cross raised his head and looked Ryan in the eyes, the despair was written all over his face. It was actually painful to see.

“How will it be alright? I’m just like all of the rest of them, I can’t protect my colleagues, my friends,” he shook his head. “I was the best man at Donovan’s wedding, you know. I had to tell his wife. I had to tell her that he was never coming home, and that it was because of me. Their daughter is 8 months old. She won’t even remember him,” his voice broke for an instant. “I can’t even protect my own family. That’s what really scares me. Normally, I wouldn’t care who Amanda went home with. I told myself that she was a smart girl, that she could take care of herself. But what if it wasn’t you? It could have easily been Him and there’s nothing I could have done to stop it. I wouldn’t have even known until it was too late, and it would have been my fault, again.”

It was amazing how much Cross reminded him of Hawkins in that moment. It was no wonder they got along so well; they both had that same crippling sense of responsibility. It would have made him laugh, were it not so depressing.

“She won’t even go into protective custody. Says I am overreacting. It doesn’t help that I can’t really tell her anything. And even if she did, it likely wouldn’t help anyway. It hasn’t in the past. So, tell me,” Cross continued despondently. “How will it be alright?”

Ryan really wanted to admit everything, to tell him that they were making progress, that they could help him, but Ryan knew that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t risk blowing it all now, not when they were this close. So, he said the only thing he could, as inadequate as it was,

“Because you aren’t alone.”

“Well, I sure as hell feel like I am,” Cross muttered. Then he rose and left the room, without another word.

Ryan watched him go, but he didn’t follow. He couldn’t help Ethan Cross, not now, anyways. Isolation was Parabellum’s most powerful weapon, and it seemed that it rarely failed. By singling out one agent and setting them apart, Parabellum effectively broke down their support system. He had even forced Cross to send his own partner away. Right now, Ryan was sure that there was no one more alone in this world than Ethan Cross. It reminded him that he needed to have his own partner’s back, whatever happened, because without him, Hawkins was just as isolated. Whatever he could do to help her, he would. With that in mind, he dusted himself off and went back to work. The sooner one of them found something, the better.

Ryan stared at his phone, willing it to ring. It had been 3 days since Hawkins had left, 3 days since he had given the samples to John Carson, and there had been no word from either of them. He knew that he probably couldn’t expect results so quickly, but the waiting was killing him. The only text messages he had been getting were from Amanda Clark, and he had been studiously ignoring those. He liked her, but between her brother, his partner and a serial killer, the list of people that would kill him for getting involved with her was uncomfortably long. Better to just avoid her. Still, he admired her persistence. With a sigh, he rose from his desk. It was late and he wasn’t really doing anything useful. Time to go home. He headed for the parking garage. Once he reached his car, his phone finally rang, excited, he answered immediately,

“Ryan Stone.”

“You have been avoiding me.”

He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t checked his caller ID.

“Amanda. I am sorry I never got back to you.”

“It seemed strange to me, because I know that we had a good time the other night. Then I don’t hear from you for days.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I have been really busy at work.”

“Well, how about tonight? We could have dinner. You still need to eat, after all.”

“I really can’t. I’m sorry, now just isn’t a good time. I’m not going to be free for quite a while.”

“Oh,” she sounded a little bit hurt. “Well, I guess that is that, then. I’m sorry that I bothered you.”

“That isn’t what I…”

She had already hung up. Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, at least that solved one problem, he wasn’t going to have to worry about avoiding her, anymore. With a sigh, he put the car in gear and drove home.

When the phone woke him the next day, Ryan made doubly sure to check who was calling. When he saw John Carson’s name, he was awake immediately.

“Carson, do you have something for me?”

“What have you gotten me involved in, Stone?”

“What do you mean?”

“I finished processing your samples. 3 were the same man, the fourth was a mixed profile with another individual. I was able to separate them out and I figured I would do you another favor, so I ran them through the database.”

Ryan swallowed hard. Carson was not supposed to have seen those results.

“You will never guess,” he continued. “I got a hit, to an agent that has been dead for 20 years. So, I repeat, what the hell have you gotten me mixed up in?”

“Look, it isn’t anything shady,” Ryan protested, weakly. He was going to have to tell him at least part of the truth, before this got out of hand. “He was murdered, we are just working the cold case.”

“In secret, off the books?”

“There is a really good reason for that, which I will explain to you very soon, I promise. It just isn’t something I should get into over the phone.”

Ryan could feel Carson’s skepticism through the line.

“There had better be. The next time I see you in person, I expect a complete explanation, or I am going to internal affairs with this.”

“Of course, no problem,” Ryan would agree to anything if it appeased Carson at this point. “Now, you said there was a mixed profile, right? So, who were the contributors?”

“Well Craig Ferrier I am sure that you know about,” Carson replied. “The second profile was an unknown male.”

“Unknown?” Ryan’s heart fell.

“No hits in any database. Whoever your suspect is, we don’t have his DNA on file.”

“Damn,” could this mean that this really wasn’t an inside job? Were they back to square one? “Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll be waiting for that explanation, Stone,” Carson disconnected the call.

Ryan stared at his cell for a long moment, then selected Hawkins’ contact. Hopefully, she was having better luck with the rest of the Ferrier case.