Coughing, Devon attempted to clear his throat, breathing through the dusty burlap bag that covered his head. He strained to hear anything that might orient him, but there was nothing but silence. The meeting with Arctic had been a trap, and he had walked straight into it. The man's cover was solid, there was no doubt. Devon was sure that nobody from his group had any idea Arctic was the double inside the military security.

A door opened, and he tensed in the chair he was tied to, listening. Two people, three? He felt a hand grip the bag and pull it off, and Devon found himself looking at a tall, elegantly dressed woman. Beside her stood a flat-faced man with wide shoulders and a mug's expression. Behind him, he sensed another person but didn't turn to look.

"I won't waste our time, Mr. Reilly." The woman said. "Who do you work for?"

They knew his name. Arctic gave that up too. Devon masked his surprise. Arctic didn't know who he worked for, which gave him a small advantage.

"I'm waiting - but not for long." The woman ordered again.

"Military security."

Rebecca stepped away, nodding to the man with her. Devon braced himself for the blow that sent stars ricocheting though his head. Won't last through many of those.

"Again. Who do you work for?" Her voice was brittle.

He tongued his cheek, blinking. This only had one end, and being beaten to a pulp gained him nothing.

"Homeland." He lied.

"I think not."

The next blow came, and Devon felt the taste of blood and a tooth loosen.

"It's a subdivision of Homeland . . ." He spit blood onto the floor, and Rebecca hopped back, disgust twisting her face.

"Who operates this subdivision?"

"I only know a code name - Raven." He glanced at her face.

A harsh laugh came from behind him and Rebecca reached down, grabbing his chin, jerking it up as she spoke. "You take me for an idiot! I know what Raven means in your silly spy speak."

"That's the name I know. The only name." He pulled his head away, grinning as she stared at the blood on her hand.

"You will regret it deeply if I can't confirm that, Mr. Reilly." She turned and strode quickly from the room, leaving the man to replace the burlap bag.

He sat listening carefully, his jaw aching and the loose tooth a constant magnet for his tongue.

"I always figured you were from some other department, Devon."

The voice was familiar, and Devon knew immediately that his odds just decreased.

"While your little game is being confirmed - or, most likely not, Devon. We're going to continue asking questions; only wrong answers won't be a simple punch to the face. What do you say? Are you ready?"

The words were muffled by the bag, but the answer put an ugly scowl on Arthur's face. "Wrong answer, Devon. You're gonna look like a Jackson Pollock canvass before I'm done."

******

Arctic listened to Rebecca's questions, his own concern growing. "He could be telling the truth. Homeland has all kinds of black ops burrowing around." He told her about his own experience and the call from someone, much higher in rank, who demanded all his information on Zero.

"What should we do?"

"You'll have to sterilize your site. There's nothing I can do right now. I don't know who these people are."

"This is my home!"

"Rebecca, we both know what goes on there. Believe me, if this is an incursion, they'll take your home apart."

"They can do that?"

"You need to get squeaky clean, Rebecca, and fast. Leave for a holiday or something. Maybe even suspend all operations until we know for sure."

"That is not an option." She countered. "There are too many deals in the works. If we should default, it could send a tsunami of trouble our way. These people don't care about our concerns, they paid for product, and they want it." She sighed into the phone. "Is there no way you can find out about this group?"

"Believe me I have tried."

"Listen, does the name Raven help at all?"

"Raven?"

"I know what it refers to, but that's what he gave up."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Rebecca. Don't waste your time with him. I have friends in a few unfriendly agencies who may know something I don't. But you can't delay. I'm serious."

The call ended, and she paced the room casting about for a solution. This was her home. Her life was here. She glanced about the lavish room, her eyes lovingly caressing the furnishings, the paintings, everything hand-picked and treasured. If this is an incursion, they'll take your home apart, the words shocked her back to reality and she quickly she ran to the library and opened the wall panel, darting down the stairs to the secret basement room.

She entered the room where Reilly still sat, tied and bagged, her face turning white as she saw him slumped forward, blood dripping from under the hood onto his lap. "What in God's name have you done!" She wrenched Arthur away from Reilly, glaring at Rolph. "You let him do this?"

"He said it was your orders."

"My orders!" Flame-faced, she shoved Arthur to the corner and lifted Reilly's head. "My God . . . get him out of here. Hurry! Take the van somewhere safe and I'll contact you as soon as I can."

Rolph freed Reilly from the chair and tossed him over his shoulder effortlessly, exiting through a narrow tunnel to trees behind the garden. She turned on Arthur and ordered him out of the room, then she gave it a quick check, closed the door and returned upstairs.

******

Rebecca paced her living room, cigarette holder pinched between her fingers. All very well for Arctic to distance himself from her dealings with Reilly, but there could be a ton of hurt come down on her if they found out he was harmed. She had a mind to call Arctic back and tell him about his man Tate, let him deal with the fallout. At least he was gone from her house, she sighed, staring out onto her back lawn where more finches were splashing happily in the bath.

As she watched, they suddenly all flew off at once and she leaned closer to the glass, catching sight of a movement in the trees at the bottom of her garden. A figure appeared briefly, but long enough for her to see the black military fatigues and balaclava. Her first thought was the tunnel, and Rolph being discovered with Reilly, but their actions didn't suggest they had found anything - yet.

Two armed men entered through her patio doors and blew right past her, sticking their head into the different doorways as they went. A third directed her to a chair and asked if she was alone in the house. Rebecca calmed herself and answered his question, and several follow-up questions as well. In spite of her responses, she saw no give in the man's position, and then held her breath when a fourth soldier came in, whispered something and left.

"Come with me." The soldier waved his weapon toward the door.

"I'm sorry, but this is my home and I'm not going anywhere. I think the police can settle this intrusion on private property."

The soldier went to the door and called, "Eagle Five!"

A different soldier ran into the room, listened to his superior, and physically lifted Rebecca from the chair and hustled her outside.

Two SUVs were parked in the drive behind the Lexus, and she was steered to the side of one. Through the window she saw Rolph, a trickle of blood on his cheek, and she felt her stomach twist. The door opened and she was pushed inside; no consideration for her appearance or gender, then it slammed shut. A moment later both vehicles left the driveway and raced out of the area.

******

"Well, Mr. Reilly, looks like you patched up okay. We'll get you to our medics, stat. The auditors will want you pink and pretty for the debriefing." The special force officer removed his balaclava, smiling.

"I'd like to see the company dentist." Reilly muttered through his swollen mouth.

"No problem. You want some water?"

"Thank you."

"I'll need your tracking device. Protocol."

Devon took off his wristwatch and passed it over.

"You know, if it hadn't been for this baby, we wouldn't have discovered that tunnel. Surprised they let you keep it. The asset was shocked when we opened the exit, and he was crouched there with you."

"They aren't pros - just gangsters." Devon groaned and lay back on the seat, closing his puffy eyes.

13,924 WP word count to this point