Trixie struggled to regain consciousness, fighting weakly against the bonds that restricted her movement. The last thing she remembered was hitting black ice, and...nothing. She fumbled to release the catch on what she assumed was her seatbelt and free herself, but couldn't move her arms.

“Now, now, Agent Belden. You needn't be in such a hurry.”

Trixie froze. Her mind snapped to attention, banishing the last trace of fogginess from the accident. She blinked repeatedly in a futile attempt to adjust to the ink-black surroundings, and realized that she was no longer in the SUV. She was not held in place by a seatbelt, but by ropes. When a hand brushed against her temple, she recoiled.

“Easy, Agent Belden,” the same voice continued mildly. “I'm merely removing your blindfold. I assume you would like to take stock of your surroundings.”

Trixie gritted her teeth and allowed the hands to continue their work. Though the fingers were coolly efficient, there was something about his touch, even more than the fact that he was holding her against her will that had her stomach twisting, and her palms sweating.

Smoothly, deliberately, the cloth blindfold was swept away, and Trixie found herself staring at the face of a man she had seen only in her dreams. Her breath caught.

A parody of a smile twisted the lines of his classically handsome face, but Trixie saw clearly that his hard black eyes were hungry. A flicker of flame, the tawny gold of a lion's mane, sparked in those ravenous eyes, and Trixie knew that she was the intended prey. And then the flame was gone, replaced with an expression of cool calculation.

“You recognize me.”

Gathering her wits, Trixie shrugged. “Sure. Johnny Cash, right?”

To her surprise, her captor was amused. “The Man in Black. Very good, Agent Belden. I must admit to feeling some chagrin, however.” He glanced down at his tailored black slacks and black-on-black dress shirt. “Johnny Cash wasn't precisely the look for which I was aiming.”

“Oh, I wasn't referring to your clothes,” Trixie informed him. “I was thinking more about your soul. You know, black.”

“And how would you know that, Agent Belden? You're meeting me for the first time, aren't you?”

“Maybe,” Trixie replied, unwilling to admit, even to herself, that her captor was the man from her nightmare, the one who had filled her with such dread and terror that she had woken in a state of hysteria. “Since you've obviously kidnapped me, it doesn't take a mind-reader to figure out you fall on the wrong side of the whole good versus evil spectrum.”

The man in black raised a brow. “It's hardly kidnapping to rescue the victims of a vehicular accident. And as for mind-reading...” He tapped her temple and smirked when she flinched. “Are you sure? You might want to think about that a little.”

“You're just a regular Good Samaritan, I'm sure,” she responded, her voice scathing.

Instead of taking the bait, the man in black, as Trixie still thought of the man from her nightmare, studied her intently. She returned the stare boldly at first, but soon found herself uncharacteristically intimidated. He wasn't just trying to make her uncomfortable, she thought. It's almost as if he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking. She frowned, remembering his response to her comment about mind-reading.

The man in black lifted his piercing gaze. “You have no idea, do you?” he asked.

Trixie studied his voice and mannerisms for sarcasm, but saw only genuine curiosity. “I wouldn't say 'no idea',” she responded carefully, not wanting to admit that she was completely confused.

He studied her again, this time with a twinge of admiration. “This changes the complexion of the situation considerably,” he mused, as if talking to himself.

Trixie took advantage of his distraction to discreetly experiment with the bonds that held her arms fast to her sides. The knots were tight, but if given a little time, she was certain she could wriggle out of them.

Not even looking at her, the man in black muttered, “It won't do you any good, Agent Belden.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes.

“Your bonds,” he said impatiently. “It won't do you any good. I know as well as you do that you'd never leave your friends behind.” He pressed his fingers together. “You see, Agent Belden, that we're at an impasse. You have something I want, and I have several persons you want.”

“If we're so evenly matched, why tie me up? It hardly seems fair,” Trixie pointed out.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “If you're as good as I think you are, it's a reasonable precaution. But, as entertaining as you are, I have several matters to attend to. I'll leave you in the capable hands of my associate.”

However, instead of leaving the room, the man in black paused as he passed his prisoner. He lifted a hand, but left it hovering at her neck. Though it was against her principles and training to recoil, Trixie found herself pressing her back even harder against the cold wall, and sinking further into the thin mattress of the cot. If she could have slapped his hand away, she would have. Better yet would have been an uppercross to his revoltingly handsome face. Apparently oblivious to her inner struggle, the man in black continued to stare at the chain, and the gold cross suspended from it. Trixie watched in fascination as his hand began to shake.

In a sudden movement, the man turned to the door and pulled it open to conduct a hushed conversation with the person on the other side. A familiar figure entered the room.

“Nathan Sider.” Trixie nodded to the scientist-turned-henchman who had watched her friends during lunch earlier that day. “It's good to see you again. Did you enjoy your meal at the restaurant?”

Nathan ignored her and proceeded to unzip his shoulder bag and remove an assortment of supplies. Trixie eyed him warily when he approached with a handful of electrodes.

“This won't hurt,” he said quietly.

Trixie snorted. “I don't imagine it would matter one way or the other if it did.”

Nathan attached the small circles to various parts of her body. “Most likely not,” he agreed. “But life is all about small mercies.”

“Like coming back to life?” Trixie guessed. “You're supposed to be dead, Nathan, at least according to our records.”

Nathan turned away from her and pressed a button on the wall. Part of the wall appeared to melt away, revealing a second room humming with computers and other equipment.

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Trixie muttered.

“Most likely not,” Nathan again agreed. “But, as I said, it won't hurt. At least, we don't think it will.”

Trixie eyed the second room and noticed several men in white lab coats. “Haven't left your science roots far behind, have you?”

Nathan began filling a syringe with an unidentified substance. “I never left them at all.”

Trixie watched as he flicked the syringe, causing clear liquid to spurt. “Truth serum?” she asked.

Nathan smiled, though he still didn't look at her. “A reasonable guess, but we've found such tactics unnecessary.”

Her stomach clenched. “Torture?” she asked. “Honestly, Nathan. It's been done before.”

Nathan swabbed his captive's arm. “Nothing like this has ever been done before, Agent Belden.”

She hissed as the needle penetrated her skin.

“Relax,” Nathan said, his voice low. “I told you, I'm not here to hurt you.”

Trixie lifted startled eyes. For the first time since he had entered the room, he met her eyes. She caught her breath. It's the drug taking effect, she told herself, but she knew there was no drug that could cause what was happening to her. He's torn, something in the back of her mind was saying. He's fascinated by the scientific research he's done here, but he's terrified of the possible repercussions. And he doesn't want to hurt me.

Nathan's head snapped back even as Trixie's eyes began to cloud. “Be careful, Agent Belden,” he advised.

Trixie nodded, but her mind was already growing foggy. She wanted to protest as Nathan gently laid her back on the thin cot, but her tongue was too thick to speak, and her body was strangely pliant.

“It'll be over soon,” she heard Nathan promise, but the room was as dark as pitch.

When Trixie woke, she was in a different room, and she wasn't alone.

“Trixie?” Honey's voice was hoarse. “How are you feeling?”

Trixie tried to speak, but her throat felt as if it were lined with cotton.

“Are you okay?” Mart's anxious blue eyes hovered over hers. “You've been out for hours.”

Trixie forced herself to an upright position, grateful that she wasn't tied up. “Are we all here?” she asked, trying to take stock of her surroundings.

“Not quite.” Diana's voice was dull, and Trixie knew she was worried. “We haven't seen Dan, Jim, or Brian.”

Honey threw her arms around Trixie. “Are you sure you're okay? You looked so pale when they brought you in.” She leaned back and rubbed her arms. “I wish Brian were here. He could make sure you're not hurt.”

“Honey,” Trixie said as gently as she could, “there was an accident.”

The colour drained from Honey's face, and she sat down abruptly.

“They're probably fine,” Trixie tried to reassure her friends. “In fact, the man in black said something about rescuing more than one person from the vehicle. They're probably being held here, somewhere.”

Thinking of Jim, Dan, and Brian, Trixie added, “I hope.”

“Seriously, Trix, are you okay? What did they do to you?”

Trixie turned to Mart, and stared pointedly at his black eye. Mart waved aside her concern. “This is nothing. They just knocked me around a little when they first grabbed us.”

“And you two are okay?” Trixie assessed Honey and Di. Both girls were dishevelled, but appeared unharmed.

“They left us alone,” Honey confirmed.

“For hours.” Di twisted her sleek watch.

Trixie checked her own watch and saw that several hours had passed. The accident had occurred at approximately half past one, and it was now early evening. She frowned. Even allowing for time to travel to the man in black's complex, there were still several hours for which she could not account. What had Nathan done to her?

“Hey!” Mart grabbed Trixie's arm. “What is that?”

Trixie looked down at the bandage covering a cotton ball on her arm. She closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Sider injected me with something.” She strained to remember more, but had only a vague sensation of having been studied. “I think I was unconscious,” she mused.

“Why would they do that?” Honey wondered. “What good are you to them if you're knocked out? They can't expect to get any information out of you that way.”

“There is no information. I don't know anything,” Trixie reminded her, but the man in black's earlier comments came back to her. What had he meant about reading other people's minds? Was it connected to the file on Bill's unusual brain activity? She fingered the chain that held the cross, and suddenly she knew that she had endured a very personal examination while unconscious. They had been studying her brain activity.

“Creeps,” she muttered, angered by the invasion of her privacy.

“Who? Us?” Diana asked, with the ghost of a smile.

Trixie blinked. “Of course not! I was just thinking about Nathan Sider, and wondering what he did to me.”

“Who's Nathan?” Honey asked. “The guy from the restaurant who was watching us?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Trixie grinned. “So, you made him, did you?”

“Once a detective...” Honey intoned impishly.

“So what are we going to do?” Mart cut in. “Shouldn't we be making a plan or something?”

Instead of answering, Trixie scrambled to her feet, ignoring the sharp twist of pain in her temple. She made a complete circuit of the room, pausing often, before speaking.

“We're being monitored,” she told her friends. “Audio and visual.” She waved and smiled at an air vent close to the ceiling. “Cutting edge technology,” she observed. “They spent money on this place.”

“The others are going to be nearby,” she mused. “Close, but not too close.”

“Do you think they're okay?” Honey asked, grasping Trixie's arm with slender fingers. When Trixie paused, Honey tightened her grip. “We need to know.”

“I don't know anything,” Trixie cautioned them. “If I had to guess, I'd say they've been roughed up some, maybe drugged. You don't take three grown men against their will without a bit of trouble.”

“Not over-protective Bob-Whites, you don't,” Di said firmly. “Jim, Brian, and Dan wouldn't let those guys just walk off with you. Not if they could stop it.”

“So they're probably hurt.” Honey took a deep breath. “Okay. That just means we can't depend on them for help, and we're going to have to rescue them. We can do that.”

“Yes, we can. But it won't be easy.” Trixie roved around the room, looking for anything that would help them. As she had expected, the room was bare of anything useful.

“How much time do we have?” Di asked as the minutes ticked away.

“They'll want to talk to me again. If that little science experiment they did on me earlier had told them everything they wanted to know, we wouldn't still be here. They'll be back for me soon.”

Mart surged to his feet. “We won't let them take you. Who knows what they'll do to you this time?”

“We need the time,” Trixie said simply. “If the others are hurt, this will buy them extra recovery time. And we don't have a lot of options. We're not ready for escape yet—we don't have enough information.”

“But you have a fair idea of what's coming next, don't you?” Honey pressed.

There was no denying it. “You remember that medical report Dan and I showed you of unusual brain activity?”

The others nodded.

“It's most likely connected to this cross.”

“And they want to study you,” Honey finished.

Trixie nodded. “The good news is, they're not likely to hurt any of us until they get the information they want.”

“I'm no scientist,” Mart said slowly, “but the next round of tests will probably be with you conscious, right?”

“Probably,” Trixie agreed.

“What if... I mean, they could try to get sensitive information out of you, right?”

“They could try.” Trixie's voice clearly conveyed what she thought of their chances.

Honey smiled at her friend's confidence, but Mart kept pushing. “What if they try to force you? What will you do? You wouldn't have to swallow a cyanide pill or something, would you?”

“You've seen way too many spy movies,” Trixie told her brother tartly. “Mart, I can handle this.”

“We can handle this,” Honey corrected her.

“Well, isn't that touching?” The quiet voice from just outside the door was faintly mocking.

Trixie glared at the man in black as he entered the room. “Come back for more? What are you going to do this time? Or should we just schedule the lobotomy and get it over with?”

“Now, now, Agent Belden. No need to get excited.” He motioned behind him and Nathan Sider entered the room. “Besides, my top research scientist assures me that you're more useful alive than dead.”

Sider looked away. “Our research isn't complete,” he reminded his boss.

The man in black looked speculatively at Trixie, and the raw hunger she had seen earlier returned. “No,” he said softly, “We most certainly have unfinished business.”

Her head held high, Trixie allowed Sider and the man in black to lead her from the room. “Don't worry,” she told her friends. “I'll be back soon.” Seeing looks of despair on the faces of Honey, Di, and Mart, she forced a smile.

Once outside the cell, Trixie shook off Sider’s arm and stared him down. Sider turned to the man in black, who nodded.

“Agent Belden will co-operate,” he said, fixing his dark eyes on her. “If she knows what's good for her.”

The three walked down several cement corridors, making frequent turns. Trixie glanced down each intersecting corridor, hoping to learn more about the complex, and discover a sign of where Jim, Dan, and Brian were being held, but all she saw was empty hallway after empty hallway. Since her captors seemed disinclined to talk, she concentrated on committing to memory the maze of corridors. Just when she began to think that the man in black really was lost, he stopped at a door and entered a code. She was ushered into the first room in which she had been held. The cot was still tucked neatly against the wall, but a table and chairs had been added to the room. Trixie glanced at the mirror on the far wall, knowing that a team of scientists was hard at work behind it, already observing her.

“Have a seat,” the man in black offered.

Trixie sat tensely on the nondescript plastic chair. While Sider set various objects on the table, she studied the man in black. Though his body was tightly controlled, she could feel his growing excitement. As if sensing he was giving too much away, the man in black abruptly turned away.

“I'll be observing you, Agent Belden,” he said as he opened the door leading to the lab.

“Great,” Trixie muttered, then turned to the motley assortment of objects on the table. “Getting ready for a yard sale, Sider?”

Sider ignored her. When the table was arranged to his liking, he unfurled a black sheet and covered the objects. “Let's get started,” he invited. Opening a deck of cards, he removed a card from the middle of the deck and placed it face down on the table.

“Identify the card.”

Trixie blinked. “You're joking, right?”

Sider returned the card to the deck and shuffled. “No jokes here, Agent Belden. You'll find that I take my work very seriously.” He chose another card and placed it face down on the table. “Card, please?”

She rolled her eyes. “Five of Spades.”

The scientist lifted the card and showed her the Queen of Clubs. “You're not trying, Agent Belden.”

“I think I preferred the tests where I was unconscious,” she retorted. “How am I supposed to know which card you picked?”

“According to our preliminary research, this should be easy for you.” He lowered his voice. “I don't think I need to remind you that several of your friends are our guests at the moment. My boss won't hesitate to use them if he thinks you're not co-operating.”

Trixie grit her teeth. “You sleep at night exactly how?” she muttered under her breath.

“On a big pile of money.”

The wry answer shocked her, not because of the attitude, but because she had been watching Sider’s face, and his lips had not moved. Yet she had heard the words clearly.

Sider met her astonished gaze. “I think you can see why you're a person of interest to us.”

She shivered, knowing that Sider had somehow allowed her to hear his thought.

“Let's run a few more tests, shall we?” He didn't wait for a response. “Close your eyes and tell me how many sets of keys are on the table.”

Trixie frantically shifted mental gears. “Five. Two of the sets have four keys, the rest have three. Keys are of various sizes, but appear to be for doors. One probable match for a mailbox, and another for a padlock.”

“Packages of gum.”

She listed the brand and flavour of the four packs she had seen. As the tests went on, Trixie's impatience grew. “Finish it up, Sider,” she finally snapped. “The only things left on the table are three cigarette lighters, two paperback novels, and a bag of chocolate chip cookies.” Her stomach growled. “And unless you plan on sharing the cookies, you'd better put them away.”

“Devise a plan of escape using the items you've listed.”

Trixie did as he requested.

“Tell me how you would get back to the room your friends are being held.”

Trixie retraced the route, calling to mind each turn.

Nathan picked up the deck of cards and looked at the top card. “Name it.”

Without thinking, she snapped, “Eight of Hearts. Are we done?”

But Nathan wasn't listening. He looked at the card in his hand, then held it up so that the people observing could see it. Still concealing the face of the card, he set it aside. “Let's talk about that cross.”

Trixie felt a stab of anticipation. Finally, here was the crux of the matter. And though Sider was the one asking the questions, she knew that it was possible to learn much, simply from the questions he chose to ask.

“How long has the cross been in your possession?”

She thought back to the hot, stuffy attic in late August. “It's hard to say.” She shrugged her shoulders, and lied through her teeth. “I have a lot of jewellery.”

“How did it come to be in your possession?”

She pretended to consider the question. “I might have picked it up during my last trip to Europe. Or it could have been a gift from a secret admirer.” She tapped her manicured finger-tip on the table. “But I also enjoy a good flea market.”

Nathan ignored her obvious evasion. “Does the CIA know that you have it?”

“I really couldn't say. We don't spend a lot of time discussing jewellery.”

Sider’s expression hardened. “Who gave you the cross, Agent Belden?”

Though Trixie knew she couldn't get away with her obvious flippancy for long, she also couldn't bear the thought of dragging her mentor, Bill, into this mess.

The silence lengthened.

Sider appeared to be on the brink of posing another question when the door to the observation area opened.

“Perhaps Agent Belden would enjoy listening to a story,” the man in black suggested. He motioned for Sider to step aside and took the chair opposite Trixie, his eyes glittering with anticipation. His stealthy yet graceful actions suddenly reminded her of a snake, and she repressed a shudder.

“Does the story come with milk and cookies?” she asked.

The man in black smiled politely. “We're beginning to understand one another, I think, Agent Belden. Milk and cookies will be the least of your rewards if you co-operate with us.”

The blatant lie triggered a flash, an image of herself lying insensible, perhaps dead, as the cross was wrested from her. She swallowed and tried to focus on what her captor was saying.

“Not so long ago,” the man in black began, “there was a mid-level CIA operative who was instrumental in the systematic penetration of Mordem.”

Trixie's heart sank. Was he talking about Bill?

“During one mission, he discovered one of Mordem's top secret research projects. A project that developed the ability of one person to control the mind of another.” He paused to lean in closer to her. “The possibilities, the capabilities of this extraordinary ability were, and are, still largely unknown. But you can imagine the ramifications of such an achievement. From orchestrating complicated heists to engineering elections, Mordem stood to make a killing. You can imagine how upsetting it was when the CIA lucked on to the research during a raid. But, luckily for us, the operative who stumbled on to this research was...amenable to making a deal.”

The picture snapped into focus for Trixie. Bill might not have done everything strictly by the book, but he was one of the very last people Trixie could see entering into any sort of deal with a shady organization. That meant that the original contact had to be the author of the files she had read. And that author was none other than Ron Saunders, current Director of the CIA.