"Do you think they'll be safe from the kids?" he asked her.

"I think so," she said, her voice light, as if there was no air behind it.

"It was a shame that no one could see them. Do you mind?" His voice was light too, purposefully.

"I'm glad," she said, moving towards them finally, her fingertip stroking the glass that surrounded them.  At closer range, she saw the back lighting, picking out the silver tracing on the bowls.  The cabinet had been made for them.  "It's beautiful," she said, turning towards him, her mouth not quite still.  "Thank you."

"I'm glad I can give you pleasure. Mostly I seem to be a trial to you."

She met his eyes again, her own startled.  "No.  It's I who am a..." she gestured with her hand, wordless.  "I am your debtor."

He frowned.  "How so?"

"I laid, unintentionally, a burden upon you and now am powerless to lift it."

"Is this a burden I know about or is this something that you're going to spring on me in the future?" Marc asked, lips twitching.

She smiled.  "No.  In fact you've enshrined it, it appears.  Will there come a time when you are not wary of me?"

He sighed. "I'm not wary of you. I've given that up. Gets me no where. Will you ever be totally honest with me?"

She looked at the cabinet.  "What have I left to hide?  If I can not trust you who can I trust?  How shall I prove there is nothing you could ask me that I would not answer, to the extent of my knowledge in a language of your choice?"

"There is no such proof. Nor do you need to offer such a thing. I just want you to remember that your prophecies are affecting living people. People you know, and hopefully care about. So if you suddenly sense a surprise coming up I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd warn us. Oh, and I'm sorry about the chef. But I thought you might be tired of trying to cook for all of us all the time."

Startled eyes met his again.  "I've never not remembered.  And I like to cook."

"Thanks that's all I ask. Would you be happier if we fired the chef?"

"No.  He and I will work it out.  And then I'll teach him out to heat formula."

Marc laughed aloud. "Serve him right. Look, Tabitha. I was resentful of you for some time. But I'm over it. After all, you let me choose, even though I know you didn't want to. That counts for something and I'm grateful for it."

She looked at him for a moment.  "If I were a better person it never would have mattered to me whether you liked me or not, or whether we were ever friends.  But I'm not, so it does.  There are others who could raise these children, love them as I would and do.  I would leave if that was your wish."

"Have you been afraid of that?" Marc asked surprised. "It never has occurred to me to ask you to leave. Not to mention, Stephen would throw a hissy fit. He's been taking lessons from Christopher."

"I know I won't be.  I didn't ask you that.  I asked you what you wanted."

"I want the children to be happy and loved because, frankly, neither Dinah nor I will be very good parents. We'll be only a small part of their lives. So I want someone who can show them the love we won't. Can you do that? That's what I want."

"Yes.  But again, you have avoided the question.  I will go if that is your wish and ensure Stephen does not have a hissy fit."

"No. It is not my wish that you leave."

She absorbed it silently, her eyes on his.  "Thank you.  Children never have just two parents.  When the time comes that they need you, you and Dinah will be what they need."

"And I am trusting you with my children because I know that when they do need us you will call for us, wherever we are. So, are we square?"

"Yes, I think so.  And just in time for company," she added, turning to door.  "And for you to tell Dinah to behave."

"Oh lucky me," he muttered then slapped on a smile as Ian and Betty Jo walked in. "Hullo. How are you two doing? I confess I was surprised when you sent a note asking to talk to me and Dinah."

Betty Jo laughed.  "Why, do you think we don't like you?"

"No one likes me," he commented watching Tabitha as she slipped out of the room toward the nursery. "But more, it's that no one ever makes an appointment around here, so when someone does it's rather worrying."

"Maybe they're trying to remember their manners," Dinah said, coming down the stairs.  She grinned at Ian and hugged Betty Jo.  "How are you both?"

"We're fine, so far as I can tell," Ian replied with a smile. "Sorry to worry you Marc. There is just something we wanted to consult you two experts in regard to."

"Please, have a seat and tell us what you need," Dinah said.  "Do you want a drink?  Or I can make some coffee or tea."

"We're fine," Ian replied after a glance at Betty Jo. The two visitors took seats and waited for Dinah and then Marc to do so as well. Ian looked a bit distracted.

Betty Jo looked at him and then shrugged.  "I was wondering actually if you two could take a look at my DNA and maybe explain something for me."

"Sure, we can do that. It might help though if we knew what you want us to look for," Marc replied, eying Ian while he replied.

Betty Jo nudged Ian.  "He can probably explain better than I can."

"Ah, I beg your pardon. Something is calling to me. With regard to Betty Jo, I discovered, quite by accident, I assure you, that she is magical but her powers are latent. As you two have shown that you can bring psi abilities from latent to operant, we wondered if you can do the same for her."

"Oh," Dinah said.  "Well that's an interesting question.  Do you want to be a mage?" she asked Betty Jo.

"I don't know.  And before I try to figure it out, I want to know if it's possible."  Betty Jo stopped and looked at Ian.  "Calling to you?"

"Well, let's see. Open your mind Betty Jo and let me look there first," Marc suggested. He closed his eyes and entered her mind softly and carefully, examining the structures and the organization of her mind.

Betty Jo sat relaxed and let him look.  When she felt him withdraw she looked her question.

Marc regarded her with a frown. "I don't need to change your DNA.  I could do it without doing that. And it might be better that way. So I suppose it is up to you."

"Is it really that simple?" she asked.

"No it isn't simple. It's quite difficult. But years ago I learned to tweak structures in people's minds to make them operant. It looks to be the same sort of thing. It will be something that will tire me, because your mind has learned to cope without the use of that structure. It will be hard for you as well. But mostly it will be a matter of teaching your mind new patterns and new pathways."

"So it's not just a tweak and it's done?" she asked.

"Well, I could just tweak it and its done, but then you'd have to deal with the consequences," Marc explained.

"Consequences?"

"Learning new ways of doing things. I can guide your mind to create the new pathways.  If you were to try hit or miss, it would take a good deal longer to learn to control what you will be able to do."

"Oh," she said, as the doorbell sounded.  A moment or two later Tabitha was leading Rimes into the room.  "He's here to see Leroy, who'll be down in a moment."

Rimes grinned at them all.  "Hope I'm not interrupting."

"Ah, Mr. Rimes. Do they let you off the leash this much?" Marc asked, watching Ian who'd remained distracted but who now was rising from his chair and walking toward the display cabinet.

"On occasion," he said with a smile.

Tabitha moved further into the great room, her eyes on Ian.  Ian came to a stop before the sapphire bowls and stared at them. Finally, he turned to Tabitha, unaware of the fact that everyone in the room was watching him. "What are they?"

"They are bowls," Tabitha said.  "Said to have been made as a marriage gift for David when he wed Bathsheba and given to him by the King of Ur.  You have met the man who made them."

"They are much more than that," Ian replied, never taking his eyes off of them. "What is their power? I don't know it."

Tabitha smiled.  "Power is power, whether named by the Magical or the Awakened or the Unknown Other.  It comes from the same source and was gifted to life for the same end.  The power in those bowls has no name in any language you would know."  She opened the cabinet and lifted one out, offering it to Ian.

He took the bowl and held it, closing his eyes, and standing quite still. The bowl began to glow and pulse as he held it.  He opened his eyes, a trace of awe on his face, his finger following the silver tracery in the carving as if he were puzzling out the meaning by feel alone.  "This one belongs to Christopher doesn't it?"  He paused, not needing her admission to know it. "Six of them. Did you always know...all of them? Did the bowls tell you?"

"The bowls were made in the fire of prophecy, so say rather we told each other.  They speak when they will to who they will.  What resides in them is as old as the stars.  But it is the children who will unlock them."

"Keep them safe then," Ian said reverently as he handed the bowl back to Tabitha to return it to its cabinet.

"Keep who safe?" Leroy asked as he bopped down the last two stairs and looked around the room at the still tableau.

Rimes, a silent and forgotten auditor jerked back to the reason he was here by Leroy's voice drew in a shaky breath.  "The beasts and the children," he said.

"The beasts and the children?" Leroy asked confused.

Ian looked round at Rimes, only now just coming out of his own rather deep semi-trance over the bowls.

"It's nothing," Rimes said his attention on Ian still.  "Sorry I missed you at the office today."

"Thank you for letting me see the artifacts, nonetheless. It was an.. enlightening experience."  Ian was at ease now, and walked back over to take his seat near Betty Jo. Marc was looking one to the other and wondering if he were imagining the sense of impending trouble that was eating at the edges of his consciousness.

"You can't tell me what they are or what they do if you don't have access," Rimes said.  "A deal's a deal."

"Indeed. I'm doing some research on them. You do know that large piece is a Babylonian Demon Bowl, yes?"

"No, I didn't.  What does that mean?"

"They are used to either entrap demons, or as a way to contact a demon and contract with him to do something. Different bowls call forth different types of demons. The inscriptions on it is the key.  I did take some digital photos of the inscriptions as I'm sure your people told you."

"Yes, they did.  You're planning to translate the inscriptions?" Rimes asked.

"Indeed. Perhaps with help from Melly if Marc and Stephen agree to let me utilize her knowledge in the endeavor."

"Melly?" Rimes asked.

"Mellisande Stewart, antiquities expert and puzzle maven," Dinah said when Marc remained silent.

Marc grinned. "Quite frankly, she'd never speak to us again if we didn't let her help. I'm sure she'd be delighted to have a chance to puzzle the spells out."

"I'll have her call you Ian, in London?" Dinah said.  "Or you can drop by the office and speak to her.  Reno will know where she is."

"I'll stop by to see her before we leave," Ian replied easily.

Rimes waited to be sure they were finished and looked at Leroy.  "Thanks for seeing me," he said.

"Sure. Mind if we use the study, Marc?" Leroy asked.

"Not at all, go right ahead," Marc replied.  Leroy lead Rimes off toward the newest and most masculine room in the house.

"Well that looks like it's proceeding as hoped," Dinah said to Marc.

"Rimes is an interesting fellow. My only concern about him is how much pressure will be placed on him from his superiors," Marc replied.  Ian grunted in the affirmative. "Or," Marc added, looking at Betty Jo, "on the Jos."

"We have our defenses," Betty Jo said.  "It's not something we worry about.  On the other hand Rimes' relationship with you all is not transferable and so it is in everyone's best interest to behave."

Marc shrugged, not entirely convinced but willing to wait and see. "So, do you want to think about the whole tweaking your brain thing?"

"I don't know," she said.  "It's something I want to think about.  I've never hankered after talent."

"Well, there's no reason to hurry up to decide, as best I can tell," Marc replied.

Ian nodded agreement. "It was through sheer luck I realized it. And as she has a twin, it seems that would make it true for Bobbie Jo as well."

"And possibly Billie Jo, too," Dinah said, to Betty Jo.  "We'll look if she wants us to."

"I'll let her know," Betty Jo said.  "You've never said, Dinah, and I don't want to pry but when you...I mean what was it like?"

"When the switch got flipped, you mean?" Dinah asked.  It was an accident really, and a shock.  It's not what I would have chosen, at least I don't think so.  And I tend to forget the things I can do that I couldn't before, at least in general.  But there have been compensations.  Now I wouldn't change it back, even thought I might have when it happened."

"Of course your ability is magical, not Awakened. So there are some differences," Ian replied. "Perhaps not so much in abilities but in how they are done. Your father can tell you some of that."

"Have you ever wondered," Dianh asked, "If it need be that way?"

"Hmm?" Ian asked.

"If the differences in the way we use power, do what we do, are necessary?  If there have to be those differences."

"Well, there is a difference in the basic structures in the mind," Marc replied thoughtfully. "But you're quite right, Dinah, in that they are quite similar and semantics make them seem far more different than they are. Perhaps we could experiment some time..."

"Experiment with what?" Stephen asked.

"The differences between how the magical do what they do and how we do what we do," Dinah said.

Stephen looked from her to Marc and Ian.  "Clearly I've missed something," he said.

"Ian's discovered that Betty Jo is a latent magical type. They came to see if we could tweak her DNA, but really it's more like switching on her mind, much as we did with Leroy, only with minor differences in the structures involved."  Marc sent Stephen a diagram mentally showing the differences.  "And we were wondering if there really was a difference, or if it were just.. assumptions and history that makes them seem more different than they are."

Stephen poured himself a drink and took a seat.  "Dinah's both, Awakened and a Mage.  But she isn't the first.  There was...still is, actually...another, born a Mage and Awoke sometime afterwards.  He told me once that Mages came from the gods while the Awakened came from the stars."  He looked over at Tabitha, silent in a chair by the fire, knitting placidly.

"Interesting tale," Ian commented, looking dubious.

Marc also frowned. "I wouldn't tell that tale to Julian. He's rather down on the Gods. All of them."

"What he meant," Stephen said, still focused on Tabitha, "was that magic is inherent in human beings, a natural evolutionary result while being Awakened is a result of something artificially introduced, if you will.  Humans were intended to be magical, and being Awakened was akin to cross-pollination."

"Nonsense," Marc muttered. "And you have what to say about this, Tabitha?"

"Human beings evolved here.  Right from the very beginning, but long after we came into being.  The Awakened, as you know, are the result of the children born to a coupling between a human being and an Old One." she said looking up from her knitting.  "The real question is where did the Old Ones come from.  We don't know.  What we do know is that the genetics that led to us...some are native and some are not."

"Well, it is a fact that Kalket's people's genes have been blended into our DNA," Marc admitted.

"But we predate the Tanu by hundreds of thousands of years," Tabitha said.  "I would seriously doubt that Ian or Betty Jo or any other mage for that matter has the Tanu allele.  Just as the Awakened do not.  They have the alleles of the Old Ones.  It's too bad you can't compare Leroy's DNA now to what it looked like before he Awoke.  Though you might take the time to compare the DNA of the twins Dinah is carrying to Ian's say.  I'm guessing they have both the Awakened allele and one that matches one of Ian's.  I'm also guessing that the Tanu allele and the allele that results in magical talent are incompatable."

"An interesting speculation. But I don't see why they should be. The Tanu were latent but had all the structures necessary for operancy, or Awakenedness to use your term," Marc replied. "And as you point out, Dinah is Awakened and a Mage. Done through manipulation of her DNA, not due to tweaking of her brain structures. Tanu allels, so far as I can see, come out primarily in physical features and in a penchant for bloody-mindedness. Lesser so in mental structures which make people more likely to go operant.

"As for the magical talent allel, while it might be a different biological method to attain the same end, I don't see why it would necessarily be incompatible with any of the others."

"Well I didn't say the alleles for magic and for being Awakened are incompatible," Tabitha said, "just that they are perhaps not compatible with the Tanu allele, given that no Awakened has the Tanu allele.  As for why I think it's because we're looking at three evolutionary pathways and the Tanu pathway, as it's realized in the brain and nervous system and that of the Awakened or the Magical use the same brain structures but the Tanu organize or utilize them differently so that they cancel each other out.  While it's not conclusive, you've a Tanu, a Mage and any number of Awakened around.  Why don't you look and see?"

"I'll do that. I've also got an Old One to compare it to," Marc relied his eyebrow raised.

"More than one," she said, turning her work and purling her way back across the garment she was making.

The conversation died down as Leroy escorted Rimes back into the great room.

"So," Marc asked with a smile, "anything we should know?"

"I have to get back to the office," Rimes said.  "Does that count?"

"Sure," Marc said, getting up. "I'll show you the door, shall I?  But not with a boot to the butt. This time."

Rimes grinned.  "Thanks," he said and made his goodbyes before following Marc from the room.

Marc returned alone a few minutes later. "So, will you be working with the Jos?" he asked Leroy who was sitting slouched in a chair looking thoughtful.

"Not sure. Haven't made my mind up. Wanted to talk to y'all first."

"Sure, what's on your mind?" Stephen said.

"Whelp, I ain't that crazy about taking a job that's gonna put me in the middle. This job seems... I dunno. It's more spying than law enforcement, or have I got that wrong, Betty Jo?"

Betty Jo thought for a moment and then said, "Well coming from the undercover gray zone between the two I'd don't see it as spying so much as I do investigative.  The focus certainly isn't on law enforcement though I think it's in the cards for the future.   Right now the job is to make sense of things that don't make sense and to build relationships."

"Well, I got no problem with building relationships. Still, how much autonomy are we gonna have, with regard to protecting our sources?  I mean, you know, if someone is helping us, I'm gonna want to keep his identity close so no hints get out that get him in trouble."

Betty Jo nodded.  "Oh I understand perfectly.  Confidentiality is a big issue.  The problem is the agency's core mission is to study, identify and track paranormal 'stuff'.  In practice that means finding people who are talented, one way or another.  Rimes knows that I've got personal relationships here and that I'm not going to give him a daily briefing on what I know about what these guys are up to.  On the other hand I have to be clear for myself that there may come a time when I need to decide whether I know something from my personal relationships that I've an obligation to share in the course of my job and have a plan for how I'm going to handle that.  I suspect that Rimes knows that and doesn't feel it serves a purpose underlining it with a conversation.  So, to get back to your question, I think it works the same way.  If there's no reason then there's no problem.  But be ready for when there is a reason and you have to decide what to do."

Leroy nodded. "Yeah, well that's true anywhere. I like Rimes. He seems like an honorable guy. It's the folks above him that worry me. And I keep thinking they're gonna switch over, some time or another, from wanting to understand the situation, to trying to control it. So I guess my problem is do I want to help them with that.

"I did talk to Rimes about having a loyalty to the Refuge and you folks here. He says he understands. Even so.."

"It's a good question.  My take on it is that if it comes to that and Rimes feels he can't keep it in check then he'll do one or both of two things.  He'll warn these guys and let them deal with it, and he'll step down if he thinks he'd be more effective from the outside.  But ask yourself why he's going out of his way to hire people who are talented or have strong ties to the talented community.  One reason is that by stacking the deck that way he protects the talented community as a whole."

"Well, normals - is that the right word? - can hardly even figure us out. Geez, listen to me. I got changed over only a few weeks ago and already I'm seeing myself as different. That's kinda worrying. Even so... I mean, we can zap off and leave them in the dust. So he can hardly rely only on normal kinds of folks alone."

"Leroy," Stephen said, "The day's coming when it's folks like Rimes and his agency who are going to be translating us to the rest of the world.  My sense is he's doing some long range planning in that direction."  He looked at Marc and Ian.  "Or am I alone in that?  And in thinking a large part of what he's planning is a covert propaganda campaign to educate and build acceptance?"

Marc frowned. "It'd be nice to believe that. And maybe we have to act like we do.  And, Leroy, it'd be nice to have someone who can warn us if there is a change of direction in that area. I mean, as an insider, you're going to know if attitudes gradually become more hostile or suspicious of us. I'm not saying you'd spy for us, but just act a bit like a liaison in both directions."

"And," Ian added, "it wouldn't hurt to know just what makes them suspicious. We do some things that have to look pretty worrying to folks who don't understand. Especially our off-world activities have got to seem pretty frightening to them, because they don't understand it at all. So if we have someone like you who they can go to and say, what's with the sudden activity here or there, and you're there to blunt any fears they may have..."

"Like missiles dropping in the Blue Ridge out of nowhere?" Marc suggested quietly. "You know they've gotta be remembering all that."

"You know," Betty Jo said, "You can always just try it and see.  It's pretty much what we told him."

"Yeah. I also told him I had to clean up some loose ends on St Michael's - well, I just said elsewhere. But I'm thinking you're right, Betty Jo. If it doesn't work out, well... I'll move back home, right dad?" Leroy added with a grin at Marc.

Marc rolled his eyes. "We're changing the locks."

Geoffrey Rimes, the head of the government organization popularly known as the Zoo, and the fellow responsible for trying to get a handle on folks who could do impossible things and who flew on dragons, stood in the doorway to the vault.

Coop Stone, Rimes' second in command, was in quiet discussion with technicians who were attempting to figure out what had happened. From the look on Coop's face, he wasn't getting many helpful answers.

Coop turned to Rimes, and with a movement of his head indicated they should withdraw to some privacy for a confidential chat. Rimes nodded and the two of them stepped into Coop's office which was nearer than Rimes' own.

Coop Stone was a quiet man, not given to emotional outbursts or small talk. He was ruthlessly competent and frighteningly organized. He also was very good at fending off the powers that be when Rimes needed him to do so.  He seldom wore an expression beyond mild interest so that the fact he was currently wearing a frown worried Rimes.

"And?" Rimes finally asked, when Coop had shut the door and the two of them were alone and in private as much as anyone could claim to be in private these days.

Coop waved his boss to a chair and then took his own behind his desk.

"All the artifacts are gone, even the ones Blakesley showed no interest in. Clean sweep.  Not sure of the time, we'll have to go through the CCTV footage hoping for a hint, but if these folks were good enough to get inside a vault in a secure facility, I seriously doubt we'll get much off the cameras. The secondary system, however, might yield us something.  Also, I'm hoping we can notice at least a temperature change or something in the vault monitoring logs which might give us a time for the break in. I live in hope."

"As do we all.  Now why," Rimes asked, "Do you phrase it that way?  Even the ones Blakesley..."

Coop took his time before answering. "I find it a bit worrying that they all disappear the day after Blakesley was here to see them. He showed a great deal of interest in some of them, none in others. Granted, I'm a suspicious sort of man, and that suspicion includes the sister service who has demanded we return them to their 'rightful owner.' Still.."

"I prefer to think of them as the mother-in-law service, but that's just me," Rimes said, thinking back to his last visit to the Refuge.  "Well, we will, with all the courtesy and signs of cooperation and friendship we can muster or fake include them in our inquiries.  We will also, as law abiding citizens with nothing to hide, report a break in to the proper authorities.  We will not mention Lord Avery.  And as soon as you've a tape I'd like to see it."

Coop nodded. "I don't envy you admitting this to the CIA.  Shall I order up a body guard for the duration?"  Coop's lips barely twitched.

Rimes smiled.  "I shall not be admitting a thing, my friend.  As my loyal and devoted second-in-command it will fall to you to have a chat with your opposite number after he finds out from whoever it is he's using down at 300 Indiana Avenue.  Why else do you suppose we're calling the police?"

"Bastard," Coop muttered. "You're lucky I am loyal and even moreso good natured."

"Not to worry," Rimes said.  "To me shall fall the task of explaining to our friends down at the cookie factory.  It's always a nice drive out to Ft. Meade this time of year, don't you think?"

"Enjoy it while you can," Coop called as Rimes stood and headed for the door. Then he sighed and headed back out to the vault where tech's were awaiting further instructions. "We're calling in the cops."  His announcement was met with stunned silence.

Rimes walked to his office, secure in the knowledge that Coop Stone would handle the circus calling the police would create.  He nodded to his secretary and headed for his desk and it's custom made, non government issue chair that had followed him from the NSA.  High backed, well padded, leather covered, it swiveled, rocked and tilted.  He'd waged the war to buy and use it on the job with a ruthlessness he rarely allowed others to know he possessed.  But this chair was vital to his ability to function, particularly when functioning required sustained, concentrated bouts of cognitive activity.  It helped him think.  He got comfortable, facing the windows and settled back to think.  Half an hour later he twirled the chair back around and picked up the phone, dialing the number for Lord Avery's town house in London where he left a message.  Then he went back to thinking.

Coop Stone managed the police quite well. Granted the DC police were used to being 'handled' so they knew when not to push things too far, for all that ever got them was a stone wall.They took what they could get, pleaded for any additional information they could have, processed the scene, not very hopeful as it was already clear a lot of people had already trucked into the vault since the robbery, and dutifully went off to write their reports.

It was only 5 minutes after the last of the law enforcement types had left that Coop's phone was ringing.  His expected encounter with his opposite number.  Coop allowed himself a feral smile, and answered the call with a pleasant, "Good morning."

"Morning there, Coop.  It's Lincoln here.  How's it going?"

"Oh, the usual. What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"I just called to commiserate.  I hear you've had some excitement down at your place."

"Yeah, nothing quite like a surprise first thing in the morning. Oh, well. I'm sure the cops will find the culprit."

Lincoln laughed.  "Bit trusting there aren't you, Coop.  I mean we are talking the DC police."

"Well, granted.  Still.  What's your interest, Linc?"

"Well, I must admit to a bit of curiosity about why you called the police not to mention what was taken."

"Apparently I give you more credit than you deserve, because here I was, totally certain you knew exactly what was taken the moment it was reported. If not before."

"Oh Coop, the implications of that statement wound me deeply.  I never said I didn't know what was taken.  Merely that I was curious about it.  Need to work on your listening skills there I'd say."

"Oh, I'm so relieved it is only my listening skills that are the problem. So, what was it you wanted, Linc? I'm a bit busy here, as you can imagine."

"Well, why did you call the police when you and I both know they aren't going to have the first clue where to look since I'm sure you didn't tell them what those things are or about your contracted expert who's examining them for you."

"Well, neither of those things alters the fact that someone broke into our vault. So reporting a burglary seems required, if only for paperworks' sake, wouldn't you say?"

"Never say, Coop, you did it for the paperwork."

"Ah, but you see, I'm a firm believer in a complete papertrail.  You should try it some time."

Lincoln laughed.  "Right, nice jab there, pal.  But trust me, in this business you'll get over it.  Well, since you're obviously working on being cagey I'll let you go.  Do tell Rimes I said hello when you relay our chat."

"Are we on for handball tomorrow still?"

"Yep, see you then," Lincoln said before hanging up.

Coop was walking into Rimes' office when Geoffrey's phone beeped an incoming call. Rimes signalled Coop to take a seat and picked up the phone.

"Rimes."

"Ian Blakesley here. I understand you asked I call you back soonest."

"Ah, Lord Avery.  Thank you for calling me back.  I was wondering if you could answer a hypothetical question for me?"  Rimes put his hand over the receiver.  "I think we need Betty Jo."  Coop nodded and stuck his head out the door while Rimes went back to his call.

"If I can," Ian replied.

"Is it possible to use magic to extract an object from a location without the mage being physically present?  Say like if I were in New York and wanted the book I'd left on my coffee table at home."

"Entirely possible but a bit difficult, given you'd have to know an exact location. Are you looking for a way to make sure you don't forget your sack lunch?"

"No, just considering possibilities.  Define exact, as in exact location.  Would the coffee table be enough or would I have to know down to the millimeter?"

"Depends on the object and on the skill of the mage, I'd say. If you knew exactly what the object was, say how big, you wouldn't need  to be so precise. Otherwise, if you were, say, wanting to find your car keys and they were lying next to your iPod, you might grab either or both depending. Or even the apple core you'd forgotten to toss into the bin."

"So it's possible to steal remotely."

"Yes, it's possible. What is this all about?" Ian was asking as Coop motioned Betty Jo to come in and take a seat.

"Well, Lord Avery, " Rimes said, nodding to Betty Jo, "Unfortunately, we had a break in last evening, into the vault."

Coop could hear Ian's laughter where he was sitting. Then, "Do forgive me. I find it.. amusing.  No earth-shattering secrets stolen, I trust?"

"No, no secrets, just the artifacts."

There was silence for a moment or two on the phone, then Ian saying, "Ah. I see now why you've phoned."

"Do you really?  You'll pardon me, I hope, if I take leave to doubt it.  My last question, assuming you're still willing to answer them is if those items being in one way or another the objects used in magic would make it easier or harder to steal them remotely?"

"Easier, I'd think. Magical objects have an aura. The more charged they are, the brighter the aura. Therefore the easier to find them. Why would I hesitate to answer your qurestions,  Rimes? Or... Ah, I see."

"Are you actually reading my mind or seeing based on conjecture?"  Rimes asked.

"Are you asking me to reveal my professional secrets? Surely not."

"No, I'm trying to determine if I need to tell you to stop being a damn fool or not."

"I'll let that go for the moment. What is it you want?" Blakesley's voice was sounding dangerously irritated.

"Merely the answers to the questions I asked.  And I thank you for the answers," Rimes said.

The phone clicked off.  Rimes removed the phone from his ear and hung up, shaking his head slightly.  Then he looked at the two across from him.  "Well, that was interesting.  So, uhm, I assume you have the tape?"

Coop had a CD in his hand and slipped it into the player attached to Rimes' TV.  He looked a question at Rimes and at his nod started the playback.The images were a bit grainy and shadowed.  The video itself was time stamped, showing just after 4am when a figure suddenly appeared inside the vault.  Dressed in dark clothing he appeared as one more shadow among the others when he stood still, as he did for endless moments.   Moving finally he headed for the cabinet housing the artifacts, reached for the correct drawers and carefully placed each item in his carry all.  Then he restored the cabinet and turned to look around the vault as if checking to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything.  In the dim light his features clarified as he turned his head.

Betty Jo, watching silently jerked forward in her seat as Coop automatically halted the play back and then worked his way frame by frame back to the best view of the face.  He froze it there, a frown on his face.

"Well, my, my," Rimes said.  "If it isn't Lord Avery."  He swiveled his chair around so he was facing Betty Jo and Coop, his eyes on Betty Jo.   She sat leaning forward, pale and rigid, her eyes huge and locked on the screen.  Rimes sighed and waved for Coop to continue the tape.

There wasn't much more, just a few more seconds of looking around and then the sudden vanishing of the intruder that was the hallmark of zapping out.

"How do you want us to handle it, Geoff?"  Coop asked, his eyes on Betty Jo.

"That's a very good question, Coop.  I don't know at the moment," Rimes said, his attention also on Betty Jo.  "Is that the only copy of the tape?"

"No. I've got the master and one additional copy in my safe. I made sure the drive where the video CCTV coverage is stored was wiped. No sense letting this stuff just hang out there."

"Well do me a favor and find a safer place to keep them all," Rimes said.  "And I'll figure out how to handle this."  He gestured Coop to the door with his eyes.  "Ask Mary to send in coffee for both of us on your way by, would you please?"

Coop retrieved the CD and saluted his boss, closed the door behind himself and stopped by Mary's desk on his way past.

Rimes waited until the door was closed, watching Betty Jo watching him.  He smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair.  "I suppose this is where in the movies I ask if you're in love with him and you profess undying faith in him and your unalterable conviction that despite the evidence he didn't do it."

"He didn't," Betty Jo said.

"And you're in love with him?"

She flushed.  "It's headed that way," she said.

Rimes nodded.  "You've been seeing him for a while, I imagine."

"Yes," she said, looking at her hands.  "What are you going to do?"

"Well as unpleasant as it will be I'm going to have to talk to him about it, at least to see what he says, but you have to admit it is pretty damning."

She nodded, miserable.  "Can I be there?"

Rimes frowned.  "Unfortunately Betty Jo not only can you not be there, you can't be anywhere near this investigation."  Rimes sighed.  "In fact, you shouldn't see him at all until this is over."

"Is that a request or an order?" she asked, her voice arctic.

"I can make it one," he said.  "You know that.  For reasons of security I have that authority."

"But you don't want to?"

"No, I'd much prefer it you were to comply willingly.  If something happens it will look better which may turn out to be important.  Because your relationship with him is going to be a part of the investigation," Rimes told her, his voice sympathetic.

Betty Jo sucked in a hissing breath and sank back in her chair.  "Oh God.  And my sisters?"

"Yes, unfortunately.  The only good news in all of this is entry to the vault was by paranormal means.  But there is still the entire issue of collusion.  So neither you or your sisters can be anywhere near this.  I can place all three of you on paid leave if that would make it easier, but I'd rather not, again for appearances sake.  I don't want to give the impression in any way I don't trust you or them."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Talk to him, show him the video and see what he says," Rimes said.  "is there anything I can do for you?" he asked her as Mary brought in the coffee.

Betty Jo took hers automatically, waiting in silence for the secretary to leave again.  "Believe me when I tell you he didn't do it."

Rimes allowed a rueful smile to appear.  "I wish I could.  I like him Betty Jo and respect him so far as I know him.  But the tape makes it very difficult to not think he's guilty."

She met his eyes and set her cup, untasted, on his desk.  "I understand.  Is there anything else?"

"No, not at the moment," Rimes said and watched her leave.  There were times, he thought, when he hated his job.   Then he reached for his phone and called London again, asking the man who answered if he could speak to Lord Avery again.

It was a full two minutes before the receiver came to life again. "Blakesley."

"Rimes here again, as I'm sure you know," he said.  "I need to speak with you in person, preferably here.  Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible. The question is why I should agree."

"Because I want to show you the tape of the break in of the vault and I don't want to get on a plane to do it."

"One hour." He hung up.

Rimes hung up the phone and called Coop, asking for a copy of the tape back.  Then he swirled his chair around and gave his vision over to the scene below and his intellect to the one he was about to appear in.  He could quash the investigation just by letting it drag out.  And, he knew, at the end of the day the US wasn't likely to try to extradite and try a titled British citizen for stealing a few artifacts whose importance and value were national secrets.  He himself could conceivably lose his job over this having been the one who'd allowed, contrary to policy, a non US citizen access to them and with any effort to first determine if he was a security risk.  He didn't much care about that.  He'd have more time for fishing.  What he cared about was impact that would have on the agency and the direction he was trying to steer it.

He hadn't wanted this job.  He'd tried several times to turn it down.  So it came as a surprise to discover he was now committed to it, and while he still didn't like the job or want it much, he didn't want to take the chance that whoever replaced him would see things as he did and follow the course he'd decided upon.  What happened now and in the coming years would play a decisive role in the tenor and scope of the relationship between the talented and the wider world.  He couldn't risk that relationship being irreparably damaged now, in its infancy and becoming a strained, distrusting sort of enmity.  So he couldn't take the risk he'd get fired.  And the solution to that was to get the artifacts back as soon as possible with the least amount of real noise as possible..the cops not counting as noise in this case.  And if Blakesley stole them, as it looked from the tape he had, then Blakesley was the solution to getting them back.

He shifted slightly in his chair and considered Blakesley...proud as bedamned, arrogant, intelligent, the epitome of the stereotypical British male...aloof, emotionless, stiff upper lip, always polite, wielding a ruthless civility that left blood in its wake and powerful.   It was probable he'd look at the tape and go coldly uncommunicative.  And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  All he could do was hope that Blakesley, his pride and ego pricked badly enough by the tape would do something that either led to the artifacts or proved Betty Jo right.  He had little hope of either, but at the moment it was all he had.

He sighed and turned back to his desk.  The CD was sitting there on the blotter making him smile.  Coop had been and gone with him even noticing.  He set up the player, the remote at hand and swallowed some cold coffee.  He was working on his in-basket when Mary showed Blakesley in.  He stood and came around the desk.  "Hello.  Thank you for coming."

Blakesley, dressed in dinner jacket, with a dress coat over the suit that probably cost more than Rimes made in a month, was looking more arrogant than normal.  Perhaps it was just the clothes.

"You've ten minutes. I'm due for dinner at the Home Secretary's."

Rimes nodded and picked up the remote, starting the tape.  Then he took a seat and allowed Ian to watch the events unfold.

Blakesley didn't take a seat, he watched the replay unmoving, standing there, silent. "Ah. Interesting," was all he said when Rimes froze it at his face.

"Nothing else?" Rimes asked.  "Just interesting?"

Ian turned to meet Rimes' eyes.  "Would you prefer I pleaded with you to believe that it isn't me? Or perhaps you'd rather I confessed my sins and returned the artifacts to you, no harm no foul?"

"Neither.  I was hoping for an explanation but if you've none to offer then as I don't wish to keep you from your dinner I'll just say thank you for coming."

"If I come up with an explanation you'll be the first to hear it," Ian said. Then he zapped out and was gone.

"Yeah, I bet." Rimes said, and turned the TV off.  Then he called Coop.  "I want to know everything that tape can tell me about that image and the person who made it."  He barely heard Coop's acknowledgement before he hung up.  Justt another day at the office, he thought and went back to work.

Betty Jo left Rimes' office and walked slowly back to her own.  Billie and Bobbie had offices just across the hall from hers.  Bobbie was standing the doorway to Billie's discussing where to get lunch.  The conversation ended abruptly as Bobbie saw her face.  "Sweetie," she said, her arms going out to enfold Betty Jo in a hug, "what's wrong?"

Betty Jo just shook her head pushing back from the embrace.  "We can't talk here."

Bobbie looked at Billie and as one they said, "Starbucks, time for a latte."  Bobbie got her coat and Betty Jo's and the three of them headed around the corner and into the coffee shop.

Three triple shot lattes in hand Billie Jo headed for the table in the back where Bobbie was holding Betty Jo's hand.  "There you go," she said with a smile.  "Now, now that we're safely away from prying ears, wanna talk about it?"

Betty Jo peeled the lid off her latte and added real sugar, earning herself a raised eyebrow from Bobbie and an uh oh from Billie.  "The tape of the break in to the vault showed a face, Ian's face." she said.  "We three are not allowed anywhere near the investigation and will probably be investigated ourselves and I've been asked to not see Ian again while this is going on."  She looked up from her cup at her sisters.  "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice close to breaking.  "I've gotten you two in a mess."

"Oh honey stop that right now," Billie Jo told her.  "You haven't done anything."

"You sure haven't," Bobbie Jo said.  She studied her twin for a moment while she sipped her latte.  "You don't believe he did it, do you?" she said.  "You've seen his face on a tape of the break in and you don't believe it's him."

"No," she said, "I don't.  Ian's...Ian's not a nice man, you know?" she said, looking up from the table.

Her sisters nodded in agreement.

"He's not even what I'd call a good man in the sense that...oh, say Rimes is or Stephen.  And it's not that he isn't capable of doing it, he is.  But he's an honorable man.  He had a deal with Rimes and he wouldn't break it like this."

Billie and Bobbie, who'd held Betty Jo's hands and kept the kleenex stocked during the recent break down in her relationship with Ian just nodded.  They trusted her and her judgment.  They also knew she was falling in love with him.

"So what are you going to do?" Billie Jo asked after several moments.  "Not see him?"

Two tears spilled out of Betty Jo's eyes as she nodded.  "I can't.  It would make it harder for you two and for Rimes and damn it...what am I going to do?" she asked, two more tears following the first.

Bobbie Jo fished out a kleenex and passed it over while Billie Jo hugged her sister close.  "Not cry here," Bobbie said, "because if you do we'll start and then we're in trouble."

Betty Jo looked up, her chin trembling, her blue eyes awash with an incoming tide.  "I'm sorry," she  said, her voice a pathetic whisper.  "But I've got to tell him and I don't know how and...oh God," she said looking down again, letting the tears drip on her lap, "No matter how I do it, he's gonna be hurt.  He's gonna think, no matter what I say that I think he did it.  And I don't.  I know he didn't."  Betty Jo sniffled and wiped her eyes, battling the tears back.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I didn't mean to do this."

Billie Jo hugged her close again.  "Honey we're fine.  You've nothing to apologize for."

"Does Rimes think he did it?" Bobbie Jo asked, getting practical.

Betty Jo nodded.  "I think so.  He doesn't like it but he believes it."

Bobbie looked at Billie.  "Then you know what'll happen."

"The investigation, what there is of one, will focus on Ian and not on any other evidence because the tapes are such conclusive evidence," Billie Jo said.

"So we need to investigate ourselves," Bobbie Jo said.

"You can't," Betty Jo said.  "We're going to be investigated ourselves, because of my relationship with him to see if we helped, if we were involved."

"So?" Bobbie Jo said.  "We weren't.  So there's nothing to worry about there.  It just means we have to be circumspect."

"Yeah, but I think it'll also mean we're going to need help," Billie Jo said.  "We can't disappear from the office for hours or days on end.  It'd look suspicious.  Plus if we get caught doing it we'll get ordered to stop.  So we need someone to front on it."

Bobbie Jo nodded.  "Yeah."

"Well," Betty Jo said, mopping her eyes again.  "We could ask Leroy."

Bobbie and Billie thought it over for a few minutes, communing silently with each other.  Then they nodded.  "Good choice," Bobbie Jo said.  We got a phone number for him?"

"No," Betty Jo said.  "But we've got one for Dinah.  And he's staying with them for now.  Just one thing.  You guys know Rimes offered him a job, right?"

"Yeah, and if he's worried this'll mess that up then he says no and we find someone else," Billie Jo said.  "It's no biggie.  And we call daddy."

Bobbie and Betty looked at her as if she'd proposed anarchy.

"We need him." she said.  "He knows everyone in magical circles in the States practically even if he's been out of it since he met mama.  And mama will keep him in line if we explain."

"He's gonna go all protective and macho," Bobbie Jo said.  "You know he will."

"Yeah, I know.  But so what.  This is important and mama will drag him back home afterwards and life will go on.  Besides, you know what'll happen if he finds out and we didn't tell him."

That prophecy silenced the other two.  They looked at each other and then reluctantly agreed.  "So you'll call him?" Betty Jo asked Billie.  "You handle him better than we do."

"Okay, but one of us needs to call mama first and warn her.  And it's your turn, Bobbie, to let them stay at your place.  You can bunk with me if you want."

"Or me," Betty Jo offered.  "The company would be nice."

Bobbie smiled at her.  "Sure, sweetie.  Tell ya what, I'll call mama, and you call Dinah and get a hold of Leroy, get him to meet us for dinner.  We'll take him out and lay it on him.  Then after dinner Billie can call daddy."

"Yeah and I gotta call Ian too," she said, her chin trembling again.

"We wait on that," Billie said.  "He's probably not home right now."

"No," Betty Jo said.  "He's not, but I can leave a message for him to call me back."  She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open.  Then taking a deep breath she pushed the speed dial button and waited.  After a while she left a message on his voice mail asking him to call her back and then hung up.  "He's gonna think I think he did it," she said, misery returning.  "Even if I get a chance to tell him I don't he's gonna think I do."  She sighed and looked at the phone.  Then she dialed Dinah's number.  After minimal chit chat she asked for Leroy's number and then thanked Dinah and hung up.  She sighed and dialed again.  "Hello, Leroy?  This is Betty Jo."  She ended the call a few minutes later saying, "Six o'clock, at Clancy's on M Street in Georgetown."