Stephen dropped Adam at the Lufthansa entrance and pulled out from the curb, his mind already moving onto his next objective.   He exited the drop off area and headed for the short term parking lot.  When he was sure he unobserved he winked out, leaving behind only the slight, tell tale in rushing pop of air.   He re-emerged outside a townhouse in  Kensington Gardens, an area of London where the term townhouse was relative.  It was a quiet street for London, which meant it was busy but not at a stand still.

He took the stairs two at a time and then pulled the bell, grinning at the deep bong he heard from inside.  The door was opened by a stately looking gentleman in a black and very conservative suit, with snow white hair and an air of elegant impassivity.

"Hello, Johnson.  Is his Lordship at home?"

Johnson bowed slightly and stepped back to let Stephen pass.  "He certainly is, sir.   He'll be glad to see you, I know, it being so long since last we had the pleasure.  And if I may say so after so long, we were also most sorry to hear about Miss Donalore.   Quite a loss."

"Yes, it was and thank you." 

"If you'll just wait here a moment I'll let him know you're here."

"Thank you Johnson."  He took the seat offered, a carved chair in oak and inlaid with ivory  that was at least three hundred years old and looked around.  The hall was floored in marble, with an exquisite oriental rug in subdued tones of blues and greens running the length of it.   There was oak wainscoting with cream colored wall paper accented with flecks of gold rising above it.  It gleamed, the sort of gleam that required many busy hands to attain and retain.  

"This way, sir.  He is most happy you've called in to see him."  Johnson, looking as delighted as it was allowable for a butler on duty to look, led him down the hall and around a corner to knock on a double wide door of the same gleaming oak as the wainscoting.   He opened the door and announced, "Mr. Stephen, sir," and bowed Stephen into the room."

The only occupant of the room rose and made his way around a desk large enough, Stephen sometimes thought, to park a car on.   "Stephen this is a most unexpected surprise.  Why didn't you let me know you were coming?  Sit, sit, please, but first, would you like some refreshment?   Coffee, a drink?"

"A scotch would be nice, and with ice if you don't mind."

"You'll stay for dinner won't you?"

Stephen laughed.  "Of course.  In fact I'm hoping you'll host a small dinner party on my behalf."

"Absolutely, old man, just name the day."

"Tonight but it will be small.  I would be in your debt if you would ask Chance and Tobie to join us."

He wasn't answered directly.  Instead his friend turned to his butler and said, "Tell Georges there will be four for dinner, Johnson and bring some ice, would you, for the barbarian here who wants to dilute my single malt.   Also will you phone Mr. Davenport and Miss LeCrosse and ask them to dine with me tonight.  You might let them know of our guest."

"Very good, sir." said the very proper butler and bowed himself out of the room.

"Baz this is really very good of you."

"Nonsense old man, nonsense.  Happy to do it, you know that."  Baz gestured towards the chairs over by the fireplace.   "Let's sit over here and you can tell me all your news.  It has been, what?  Twelve years since last we met?   My condolences of course for your loss. I was most sorry I couldn't be there for the funeral, but I know you understand."

"Thank you, Baz.  I appreciated the note you sent at the time and the flowers."

"It was nothing, my friend.  But we will not speak of such sad things when it has been so long and I am so delighted to see you.   You have business in London?  Are you staying?  You are welcome here as you know if you would like."

"No, I can't stay.   In fact I only came to see you."

"I am, of course, flattered that my inconsequential self should bring you all this way.  But I suspect it is not for the pleasure of my company."

"You are correct.  I need your help with a small meeting on Malta in ten days.   A meeting with Laszlo."

"Ah, yes, I see.  You wish back up, am I correct?"

"Yes and I'm hoping you and Chance and Tobie will be able to provide it.  It will be just like the last time, except for the location."

"You have only to ask, you know that."  Baz broke off as Johnson returned with the ice on tray.   He set it on the table and Baz began to mix the drinks. "

Stephen leaned back in a leather covered armchair of sybaritic comfort and surveyed what he privately felt was one of the nicest rooms devoted to male comfort he'd ever been it.   Book lined walls, deep carpet, windows for light, a serious fire place, chairs with lamps and side tables, and of course the desk.  British men had honed the art of creating rooms for themselves using the gentleman's clubs as their model.   Baz had obviously taken the lessons to heart.

His host, Lord Basil Sutcliffe, was the epitome of old school British aristocracy on the outside.  He was a man of medium height and slender frame, a fencer's build.   He looked to be in his mid forties with blue eyes and dark hair going grey at the temple and wavy, a small mustache that always made Stephen wish he'd shave and a full mouth that Doni had told him once made her want to nibble his lips.   He was dressed in a suit that had clearly been tailor made of a wool blend, the blend being most likely silk, in dark blue with grey pinstripes.  His shirt had been starched and his tie was perfect, with the tie clip matching the cufflinks of a heavy and probably old gold.  Just the thing a man would wear when taking his seat in the House of Lords.  

On the inside his Lordship was one of the most ethically ruthless men when it came to achieving an objective he had committed himself to that Stephen had ever met.   His colleagues met his exacting standards in that department.

Stephen nodded his thanks for his drink and sipped happily while Baz got his own and sat down across from him.   "I take it the three of you are free to help me out?"

'Of course.  No question about it.  I am assuming the usual terms?'

 "The usual.  The first payment will be in the account by tomorrow morning at 10 am Swiss time, the rest upon completion.   I'll need you on Malta by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.  I am sorry for the short notice."  Stephen sipped again and set his glass down on the table next to his armchair, clearly there for just that purpose.     He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo he handed to Baz.  "That's the guy.  But let's wait on the details if you don't mind until the others arrive or you will have to hear it all twice "

Without looking up from the photo Baz nodded his agreement and then called "Enter," to Johnson's knock. Multitasking was not a problem for him.

"My lord, both Mr. Davenport and Miss LeCrosse will be happy to dine with you.  I took the liberty of suggesting, my lord, that they arrive early, in about an hour, for cocktails.   Is there anything else, my lord?"

"How did the madman in the kitchen take the news?"

"In his usual Gallic fashion, my lord, though this time I am happy to say we sustained no losses to the crockery."

"Ah, very good, Johnson.  Dinner will be fine then."  Baz turned back to Stephen.   "When he gets volatile it means he's fine.  Otherwise, you need a food taster.  Why I keep him, I don't know."

"You love his cooking and you know it."

Baz signaled to Johnson that he could go. "Of course, I know that's it, but you must allow me my little delusions, you know.   Now would you like to freshen up before dinner?"

"Thank you, your lordship, that will be most kind."  Stephen gave a half bow from his chair.   I take it there's a dinner jacket upstairs I may borrow?"

"Of course.  This is a civilized house, as you know.  We dress for dinner here.  Johnson would leave me otherwise.  But seriously Stephen," Baz's voice lost all it's quality of lazy good humor and became serious, "It's very good to see you.  Especially to see you looking so well.   Liam kept us abreast of things, as you may know, and we were growing concerned, but it's obvious you have turned a corner.  Forgive me, though," he added quickly, extending his hand in a conciliatory gesture as he saw the shift in Stephen's expression, "if I intrude.   I would not for the world."

Stephen shook his head, "No, you're not intruding, not at all.  You're one of the few people willing to talk about it openly, and I am grateful for that.   I suppose it's because you know something about it."  Stephen shifted his gaze to the fireplace, now cold but with a fire laid.   "I know that she and I had something most people never find and I will always be thankful for that and treasure it.  I also know we had it much longer than I deserved.   It's just that for so long, and still, I have felt as if the part of me that is where life happens was something I placed in her keeping and it died with her so that only the mechanical living remains.   For a while I even wondered if I would be able to sustain that.  Now, well, those things are still true, more or less" he said, his voice hesitant, as he shifted his gaze back to Baz, "but I've gotten used to them and so I can live some semblance of a life.   It is a little, perhaps, like what I thought you must have felt when you lost Rachel."

Now it was Baz's turn to shift his gaze to the fireplace, but his eyes went to the portrait hanging above it of a woman with long flowing copper curls and a slender frame, with a heart shaped face and huge blue eyes smiling back at him, in full Georgian court dress except for her unpowdered hair.  His voice, when he spoke was reflective. "Yes, it was something like that.  We had not had as many years as you and Doni, but yes it was very like you describe."   Looking again at Stephen, his eyes sad, he went on, "What I meant to say and stumbled over was that the grieving time, for you for her…it has not been all that long.   Ten years is a very short time in the face of all the time there is."  Baz smiled a self-deprecating smile as he went on, "For me it was even longer, but then I hadn't then, perhaps, the resources you have or that I myself do today.   I am glad you've come back to life.  We missed you my friend, and we need you.  So it is good that you have rejoined us."   Baz toasted him with his glass and then finished his drink in a long swallow.  "Now, we must dress for dinner."   He pulled the bell for Johnson.  "If you need anything you have only to ask, my friend.  We would be happy to supply it for you."

Stephen saluted him in return with what was left of his own drink, then looked the scotch ruefully, finished it and said, "At the moment, all I need is a dinner jacket and some of Georges cooking.   Will he give me a doggy bag for Tommy, do you think?"

Dinner was a masterpiece of elegant, gourmet simplicity, complete with heavy silver, china thin enough to see through, crisp linen, wax candles in sterling silver candelabra that probably dated to Adrianna the First, and crystal decanters attended by butler and footmen.  Stephen happily ate his way through five courses drinking the vintage wines selected by a master palate to complement the food.   Baz, he reflected, had grown up in a very different era and had retained much of what had made it memorable.  It helped, he supposed, that the man had more money than God and could afford it, but he suspected that even without that Baz would have found a way.

Tobie, seated across from him was in her element as well, he knew.  More properly styled Lady Tobie, she had renounced her title many years ago.  She had not, however, renounced the trust funds that had come with it.  The income from them went mostly to charitable works.  Tobie earned her living working with Baz and Chance and had suffered no decrease in her standard of living if the fees he found himself paying Baz were any indication.   Tobie was tall for a woman, close to six feet and usually dressed in trousers or jeans.  Tonight she had dressed more formally in a garment that in an earlier era would have been termed a cocktail dress.   It was a sheath in a creamy brown satin that showed off her legs, set her aglow and highlighted the topazes and amber set in gold that hung from her ears and glittered from her neck and wrists – heirlooms if he'd ever seen any.   Her hair was a flyaway ash blonde that she hated.  It wouldn't grow but it curled.  Her eyes were a pale blue and her skin impossibly fair.   She talked with her hands constantly in motion.  It was when she was still that you needed to worry.

Chance, on the other hand, had no ties to the British aristocracy and probably rejoiced in the fact.   He was a dyed in the wool republican, who supported the abolishment of the monarchy and the end of hereditary titles.  He did not, however, support the abolishment of free enterprise and the accumulation of wealth in its many forms, activities at which he excelled.   He was a tall man, over six feet and solid with non-descript features and hazel eyes.  He wore his dirty blonde hair close to the scalp, shaving it off periodically and letting it grow back before doing it again.   He had a knack for blending into any crowd, becoming invisible at will.  For following someone, he had no peer.   Even in evening clothes made to order he looked a bit rumpled.

All three had worked with Stephen many times.  He'd helped them out occasionally as well.   He knew how they worked and trusted them to ensure that no matter what Adam made it back alive, should the worst happen.  It also helped, he thought, sipping his wine, that they were Awakened themselves, albeit unofficial ones, if that was the right term, in that they were Awakened children of an Awakened and a non Awakened parent, similar to Dinah.  

Stephen had always made it his business to keep in touch with children of an Awakened parent whether Awakened themselves or not.    They and others like them, in league with many of the Exiled who, like Eli and Tabitha had never signed the Covenant and those who had signed it and later withdraw or been kicked out after being, presumably, stripped of their Awakened gifts, were for the most part utterly unknown to the Council.   Or rather, the Council knew they existed in principle and as such had demanded that there be no contact with them without prior permission – a supremely stupid position –  which had never been granted.  They had no idea of the number or extent of unofficial organization that existed among those they were ignoring; or the potential they represented.

It was Tobie, waving a bite of her crown roast of pork, impaled on a fork, at him that recalled him to his obligations as a dinner guest.   "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming.  What was it you asked me?"  Stephen apologized with a smile.

Chance answered him.  "We were saying that the rumors are flying about your run in with the Council.   Can you discuss it or do we have to make do with the gossip?" 

He asked it in a way that reminded Stephen irresistibly of a tabloid reporter.   Laughing, he responded, "No reason I can't talk about it.  Half the population was there from what I could tell.  What do you want to know?"  

As he spoke, Baz signaled to the servants to withdraw.

"Are they really going to rewrite the Covenant?  That's the question everyone is asking.   Or will it just be all show and no real result or change?"

Stephen took sip of wine before he answered, giving himself time to frame his response.   "I have no reason to believe it will be anything other than a serious look at the Covenants as written in the light of history and experience followed by a serious set of recommendations."

"So you're hopeful that things might finally start to change?"  That was Tobie, alight with energy.

"I am convinced there will be a committee and a set of serious recommendations.   But what happens after that is not up to me.  It will have to go to the Council first and then to the Awakened themselves who signed the Covenant in the first place and finally everyone else.   I certainly can't predict what they'll do."  He looked around the table as he spoke, ending with his eyes on Baz.   "I am suspended from the Council indefinitely however."

His statement dropped like a grenade into the middle of the conversation.  He saw Baz's eyes narrow and then relax, the only reaction he showed to the news.  Chance and Tobie, recovering, became volatile in their demands for more information.   Stephen, still watching Baz from the corner of his eye spread his hands, asking without words to be told what else there was to say.  Baz answered him.   "So they did not drop the charges?"

"No.  I never expected them to.   Certainly it is in their best interests to not have to deal with me on the Council."  Stephen, twirling his wine glass by the stem, decided against adding anything else.

"Well," demanded Chance, 'did they actually think they could make them stick?"

Stephen gave a harsh laugh and said, "I think they hoped they would.  But I also think that the charges were decided upon without the input, shall we call it, of the full Council."  Stephen, who had not stopped watching Baz waited.   It didn't take long.

"So," Baz asked slowly, thinking aloud, "You think that perhaps Marc was not entirely aware of the charges or something else."

"I think that he perhaps would have preferred I be charged with something less than the equivalent of high crimes and misdemeanors, as it were, since the very seriousness of the charges made it unlikely they could be sustained.   Had they tried to nail me for something a little less grandiose, shall we say, they might have gotten more traction.  But I am merely speculating here.   I could be entirely wrong.  Though," he added reflectively, still twirling his wine glass, "Reno has been assigned to the Refuge to, and I quote, 'ride herd', on us."   He laughed.  "When I asked for clarification I was told he was there to, and again I quote, 'keep your asses out of trouble as best I can.'"   He waited for the next question, having bet himself he knew what it would be and from whom. 

Tobie, indignation sparkling in her eyes and animating her voice said, "But that's stupid.   What can Reno or Marc or anyone else do for that matter?  They can't stop you from doing whatever you want."

Stephen hid his smile of gratification at still being able to at least predict the easy ones, by saying "They can get in the way.   And that, my dear, is exactly what I think they intend to do, regardless of whatever else they may hope or imagine themselves able to achieve."

"Well, what are you going to do about?" she demanded, clearly hoping to be allowed to help.

He looked up from the wine he was watching as he twirled the glass and smiling his most charming smile, directing his words towards Tobie, his eyes towards Baz, he said, "Why let them, my dear."

It wasn't until they reached the coffee and brandy stage, served in what could only be called a drawing room that they reached the ostensible reason for his visit.   Stephen outlined succinctly the situation and his requirements.

"Laszlo is going to meet me inside the cathedral at noon.  Adam, whose picture you all have, will be outside the cathedral.   He is an artist, and rather a fine one, so he will be sketching or something similar.  He has been told to make himself a familiar sight in the plaza by spending time there before the meeting. " Stephen scanned their faces and then resumed. "

His job is to identify Laszlo, if at all possible and convey the information to me before Laszlo enters the cathedral.   He will not have a lot of time to do that so he will also be recording everything that occurs.  I have no reason to believe this will be anything other than a simple meeting.   It shouldn't last more than twenty minutes.  At that point we will all go home and rest on our laurels."  He paused there, as much to swallow some brandy as to choose his next words.

"You all know who Laszlo is and what he does.  You know he is a professional and the concomitant risks that come with his line of work.   So, it not inconceivable that a third party might decide that this is a good time to try something we would rather they didn't.  If that happens your only job is to get Adam out of there in one piece.   He is under orders from me to do exactly as he is told, either by you or by me."

"He knows who we are?" Chance asked, refilling his brandy snifter.

"Yes, I gave him pictures this morning as I dropped him off at the airport.  He should arrive in Malta at about 7:30 am their time, which is why I want at least one of you in place as soon as possible, hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.   The Bel  Sol is a three star hotel and the sort of place where people get acquainted so he is expecting to interact with you.   I will arrive the evening before and interact with none of you."

Baz, lounging at his ease on the sofa, spoke next, "Do you care what lies we tell?"

"Be whoever you wish.  He knows you are telepathic, but has been led to believe not very.   He has also been led to believe you know nothing about us, as Awakened, but will think he also has a small telepathic talent.  If at all possible I like him to continue to believe that.   Any other questions?"

"Yes," Chance said. "Does he know about Laszlo?"

"Know what about him?"  Stephen asked.

"That he is also a member of the family so to speak?"

"No.  And if he finds out it will be because Laszlo decided to tell him, not because I did."

"So he doesn't know what this is about?"  The last was asked by Tobie, heretofore a silent participant.

"No.  And again, I'd like it to stay that way for now."  Stephen sighed and made a decision he had hoped to avoid.   "For now, because of the situation in which I find myself vis a vis the Council I have decided that in terms of sharing information it is going to be strictly need to know.   Adam doesn't need to know the background.  He only knows I want Laszlo to do something for me."

From there the talk became more general, four friends sharing news.  After Tobie and Chance had left Stephen poured a splash of brandy in his glass and waited, his eyes on his friend, still comfortable on the sofa.

"So, the pieces are finally moving, are they not my friend," came Baz's lazy drawl.  He was probably the only one of the three who saw a glimmer of daylight ahead.   "I am glad.  It is time."

Stephen smiled, again, his most charming smile.  "It is only the barest beginning of the beginning.   It is also conceivable I have misjudged."  Stephen hesitated then, searching the eyes that regarded him so calmly.

When he said nothing Baz smiled.  "We have known each other a long time my friend.   I think I may say I know you as well as anyone alive, even Liam or Eli.  So please believe me when I say that in this game you play with such skill you will need a confidante, someone to see from another perspective and share that with you, for your own sake, you understand.  We do not always see all the ramifications and, forgive me, potential flaws in our own handiwork.  We are too close to it.   After my Rachel died I did not have anyone to whom I could show the whole of my mind and that is never good.  Ah, the mistakes that I made in my arrogance, they are not to be believed."   He shook his head ruefully.  "Do not make the same mistake.  What you do is too important."

"I have thought of that, but until I see my way a little more clearly I think it is better to protect my friends from the consequences of my misdeeds."   Stephen stared at his brandy without seeing it. 

"I do not think they would view it in that light.  Certainly, if you are alluding to the consequences I think you are, in many cases, including mine that is not an issue."

Stephen nodded.  "You're right of course, to a degree.  But, taking yourself for an example if  I may…"  At Baz's majestic nod of permission he went on, "It would not be you, certainly, on whom the consequences might fall; there is still your mother to be considered, however.   It is an interlocking weave, Baz, not a single strand."

"Speaking for my mother, I can tell you what I know she would tell you if she were here, which is that while she is naturally gratified by your concern, she is more than capable of taking care of herself, as history has shown.  However I take your point and have made mine, so I will say no more.  But I think that there is more you wish to say to me."   His warmed his words with a gentle smile he directed towards his guest.

"Yes.  It is possible that I shall need you help in another matter very shortly.   You understand me?"

"Certainly, since dinner I have understood.  It is not unexpected.  Whenever you wish, simply send me word and I will take care of it.   Now, it is getting late and your Tommy will be concerned at your long absence.  I know you did not tell him you would be here because you never do.  You should be kinder to him, Stephen."

Stephen laughed as he stood to go change, "He would agree with you.' 

Not many minutes later Stephen returned, back in his own clothes.  Baz showed him to the door personally, while Johnson hovered in the background.   "Present my compliments to Liam, and to Abba Eli and Amma Tabitha." 

Stephen nodded and shook his hand warmly.  "Until Malta, your lordship" Then turning he said, "Goodnight Johnson.   It was a pleasure to see you again."

The butler came forward at his words and bowed.  "The pleasure was ours sir.  Do call again soon.   And I took the liberty, Mr. Stephen, of having Georges prepare a doggie bag for Tommy; with our regards, sir."  He held out a shopping bag, clearly full.

Stephen laughed and taking the bag was gone.  Closing the door behind him Baz turned to Johnson and after a moment's reflection said, "Would you delay retiring for a moment, Johnson, I've some instructions for tomorrow.   And would you also rouse the night footman for me, please."

"Certainly my lord.  In the study, my lord?"

"Yes, thank you."

By the time Johnson returned with the footman Baz had finished writing a short note and was sealing it.  "Ah, Timothy, good, I'll be just another moment."  As he addressed the crested envelope with a single word he said, "Please deliver this immediately.  You will not need to wait for an answer."

Timothy, expressing his willing to please, bowed himself out.

"Now, Johnson, first thing tomorrow," he began, and proceeded to give his faithful and very proper butler exceedingly detailed instructions for getting three people to Malta by tomorrow afternoon along with the required but in many cases illegal accessories.

Stephen, back at the airport and longing for bed, retrieved his car from the lot, paid the fee, exorbitant as always, and turned his thoughts towards Baz's very perceptive and possibly prescient advice, which served to occupy his mind all the way home.   Unfortunately he had reached no firm conclusion by the time he had parked the car and made his way to his office to see what had happened in his absence.  

Because it was now late, close to midnight, finding Tommy waiting up for him focused his attention fairly quickly.  Hi," he said in his friendliest voice, using his best smile.  Tommy waiting up was not indicative of good news for someone, and it was most likely himself who was in trouble.

"So," Tommy snapped, clearly beset by something and correspondingly greatly annoyed, "you're finally back."

"Yes. bearing gifts from Georges packed just for you."  Stephen, having been down this road before, interrupted swiftly and to some purpose.   "I believe it is a few of your favorites, including, if my nose is any judge, some fresh baklava."

Tommy forgot his grievances and began exploring the contents of the shopping bag. 

"But I know you were not waiting up for that," he said, using his most ingenious smile on this time reflecting that he had spent much of this very long day manipulating his friends, and only one of them had been aware of it.   "So why are you not taking your well deserved rest?"

Recalled to his grievances, though slightly mollified by sticky sweet pastry he licked his fingers and answered, making no attempt to hide his feelings.   "I thought you would want to know that Reno arrived today, not long after you left.  He wanted to know where you were, but could I answer him?   Oh no, I certainly couldn't!  And why couldn't I?" he demanded in what was clearly a rhetorical question.  "I couldn't because you never tell me where you are, but you expect me to deal with things anyway."  Any mollification provided by the doggie bag had been undone by the verbalized litany of the indignities he had suffered today in the line of duty.  "You never tell me anything but expect me to deal with everything."

Stephen generally accounted a sensitive man, for a man, and even exceedingly perceptive, made haste to mend his fences.   "Tommy, I think it's time you and I had a talk, because unfortunately, your lot as my right hand man is about to become very difficult indeed and I am counting on you to help me with some very important things."   Stephen moved him in the direction of his office and got him seated, doggie bag at hand.  Taking his own seat he pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured himself what he devoutly hoped would be a small nightcap and not the prelude to a bender.   Tommy declined one of his own.  Stephen took a drink and a deep breath and said, "Tommy, the first thing is that if you don't know where I am it is fine to say that to people.   It's ok to not know,  Or, if you like you can simply tell them where I said I was going."

"You mean I should have told Reno you'd run away from home?"  His appalled disbelief was apparent even to the non-perceptive.

Cherishing the image of such an exchange and hiding his grin behind his glass he just nodded.  When he had his voice under control he said, "You could have told Marc that as well or anyone else for that matter.   You see for the foreseeable future I won't be telling you anything you don't absolutely need to know because that way you don't have to worry about lying for me, and I won't have to worry that you're in trouble with Reno or Marc or anyone else on my account.   Do you understand?"

"Well that won't be much of a change from the way things are now.  Tommy said, puzzling over the rest before he finally nodded.   "I think understand, though.  It's not that you don't trust me.  It's that you don't trust me with them."

Stephen shook his head emphatically.  "No, I trust you absolutely.  It's just that I want to keep things as simple for you as I can in as many things as I can so that you will be freer to deal with the things I can't rely on anyone else to handle like you do."   And, that, he thought to himself, has the virtue of being absolutely true.

"Oh," Tommy said.  You want to be sure I can do the things you need me to do by making sure I don't have to do other things?"   He was still puzzled.  There was a flaw there somewhere, he was sure.  He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Exactly and in that spirit I have instructions for you."

Tommy nodded and went to get his pad and pencil.  "Ready boss."

"Good.  First thing tomorrow, find Reno and present him with my compliments and apologies for not being here when he arrived.   Then inform him that I would like him to dine with me tomorrow evening at my house, say seven thirty, if he would be so kind as to oblige me."

Tommy looked up, "You're going to cook?"  Clearly he had no high opinion of his boss's culinary ability.

"You think it might be wiser if I didn't?"

"Well, it would depend.  You're ok with a grill and a steak, but that's about it" He delivered himself of this opinion in a most judicious manner having considered the question seriously.

"I suspect you're right.  So the next item on your list is to procure for me two steaks, the material for a nice salad, with dressing, two baking potatoes and two ears of corn.   You will also need to let Tabitha know I need a peach cobbler for dessert, with fresh whipped cream.  Also, any condiments you feel would be appropriate, and some charcoal for the grill.   I will handle the beer.  Unless," Stephen stopped at the sudden thought, "you think he might be either a vegetarian or a non drinker, or both?"

"Unlikely," Tommy responded after giving that matter considerable thought as well, "but I will confirm it."

"Thank you.   Now tell Gideon and Cahill they can expect Reno to start training with them day after tomorrow and that I want him certified in the ops center by Monday and on the teams by Thursday."

Tommy gaped at him.  "Who told you he wanted to go out with the teams?  I hadn't even gotten to that yet."

"You did, just now."

Tommy hrmmphed.  "I mean before I said anything?"

"I knew because I thought about it and it was so probable as to be almost a certainty.  And, I had already decided he was going to work for his keep or he was leaving.   However, I suggest you let me tell Reno he is going to have to train just like everyone else before he goes out on the teams.  I suspect he'll take it better from me."

"Gotcha.  I don't mind at all, he makes me nervous."

Stephen was suddenly serious.  "Tommy, if he gives you any trouble, just walk away and come find me, got it?"

"Sure, boss, but I can handle it.  He just makes me nervous that's all."

"Well, if you can handle it, then it would help me a lot if you'd let him make you nervous and you tried to hide it from him."

"That won't be a problem.  I can just be myself, then."

Sometimes Tommy stunned him with his insight.  "Thank you.  I appreciate it because it will really help me.   Now the next thing; never leave the office locked, either mine or the outer door, and tell Cahill the same goes in the ops center."

"But I just installed those locks; it took me all afternoon yesterday."

"I know and I appreciate it.  But I don't want them used just yet.   Now, I want you to start boxing all the old files and get them shipped out to some archival storage facility, but be discreet about it.  I'd rather not have to explain to the interested why I'm not just tossing them out.   Though if anyone pushes just tell them I am getting ready to redecorate."

Tommy, now totally at sea, but struggling to please, asked "What do you want to keep?  Should I find a decorating firm?"

"The decorating firm is an excellent thought, so please do.  As for the rest, nothing we're not sure to need in the next six months or so.   Also you know all those financial records at my house.  Those go too.  Oh and Tommy," He waited until he looked up and then said, "No need to inventory them.   We can do that later.  I just want them out of here ok?"

"Got it.  I'll have it done in two, three days at the latest."

"Good, 'cause that will do it for now."  Stephen finished his drink and stood up.   "Ya know Tommy, I changed my mind.  I think it would be better if I did my own inviting tomorrow, so you can scratch that off your list.  It's more respectful, that personal touch that frequently makes the rough a bit smoother."  He thought some more.  "However if Reno asks to see me, tell him I had to deliver a baby and I'll be back in time to feed him and put him down for his nap. OK.   But don't forget to take care of the food."

"Ok, boss."  Tommy would be damned before he told Reno that.  Or maybe not, maybe it was just the thing.   He'd have to sleep on it.

"Now I am going to get some sleep and you should too.  And Tommy, don't ever think I could do this job without you because I couldn't and I know it.   Thank you for putting up with me."

Tommy just blushed and left in disorganized haste, clutching his doggie bag and leaving Stephen to close up the office, being careful, of course, to leave it unlocked.