Director Saunders? Working with Mordem, a known terrorist organization? Trixie's only outward reaction was the faintest ripple of surprise. It was, however, enough for the man in black.

“You really didn't know,” he mused, his voice almost tender.

Finding this softer version of her captor singularly disturbing, Trixie defiantly tossed her hair. Wishing that she was wearing something more dignified than the revealing outfit she had donned for her “accidental” meeting with Juan, she fidgeted in her short skirt. She started to speak, but the man in black continued.

“You've been carrying around one of the single greatest achievements of science, and didn't even know it. Tell me.” He leaned toward her. “Did Saunders give it to you, or did it come to you by a more circuitous route?”

When Trixie maintained a stony silence, he leaned back, commenting, “Ah, well, it hardly matters, does it? The point is, the cross is here, back where it belongs.” He formed a triangle with his fingers. “The question is, will you give it to us willingly, or will we have to...persuade you?”

Trixie scrambled to make sense of the situation. She had been unconscious and completely under his power. Why hadn't he taken the necklace from her? She fingered the sturdy chain. If it were so valuable, why did she still have it?

As if reading her mind, the man in black raised his hand and with surprising gentleness, lightly traced the path of the chain, stopping just short of the cross. It was the caress of a lover, but Trixie knew it was the cross he coveted, not her. Fascinated, she watched his dark eyes begin to glow. After a long moment he sat back, but his eyes were frequently drawn to the heavy weight of gold.

“There are many forms of torture,” he mused. “And not all of them are physical.” He met her eyes. “Believe me when I tell you, Agent Belden, that it's in your own best interest to give me the cross.

Trixie tilted her head to one side. “Has that line ever actually worked on anyone?”

“Whether or not a person believes something doesn't change whether or not it's true. I'm telling you the truth, Agent Belden. The sooner you give it up, the better it is for everyone. Especially you.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Right. Why don't you try selling me a beautiful lake-front property while you're at it?”

But the man in black was not to be baited. “You're an intelligent woman. I would be very surprised if you haven't done some research on your unusual piece of jewellery. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that you know all about a shocking number of scientists with unexplained deaths.”

Trixie thought back to the files she and Dan had read. Files about scientists with crosses who died unexpectedly. “Confessing to murder?” she asked. “I'd be happy to put you in touch with the local law enforcement.”

He smiled grimly. “I'm guilty of many crimes, Agent Belden, but they don't include the murder of those scientists.” He shrugged. “All I did was relieve them of the equipment they were testing. I had no idea how fragile their minds had become; how dependent they had grown on the cross.” He met her eyes squarely. “Every one of them died within a year of being forced to give up their cross. Some became depressed, others experienced dementia. Many of them sought relief through drugs, both legal and otherwise, but none were successful. A few of the more creative ones attempted to duplicate the research on their own, and fewer still made the unfortunate error of trying to break back into the lab to appropriate the highly guarded research. My point, Agent Belden, is that the consequences for those who do not give up the cross are fatal.” With a chilling callousness, he concluded, “It is a design flaw we had not anticipated.”

Trixie's heart sank. The story could be a convenient ruse, but it did fit with the death certificates she had seen. Furthermore, the man in black's voice was unmistakably sincere. Was she wearing a death sentence around her neck?

“But everything will be just fine as long as I hand it over?” Trixie shook her head. “That works out awfully well for you.”

“I'm not making any promises, Agent Belden. I can't guarantee that the cross has not already affected you in ways we can neither understand nor treat. All I can do is offer you the opportunity to minimize its effect on you. Give up the cross, Agent Belden, while you still can.”

With sudden understanding, Trixie remembered her mentor Bill's struggle when he had given her the cross. And she knew that she would find it just as difficult. Had Bill known what he was doing? Had he been given the same chance she was facing? Feeling a pang of regret, Trixie wished she had stopped in to visit him before leaving Virginia for the holidays. She was suddenly swamped by waves of homesickness and guilt, and reacted by becoming edgy and irritable.

“We're at a standstill,” she snapped. “I'm not going to give anything to an agent of Mordem, especially based on what it may or may not do for my mental health.” She crossed her bare arms over her sparkly spaghetti strap top. “What now?”

The question was answered, but not by the man in black. Without warning, a siren began to wail and water spurted from the sprinkler system. Trixie couldn't help smiling at the shocked expression on the man in black's face. Even more entertaining was the sight of the scientists who had been observing her scrambling to protect the computers and scientific equipment in the next room. Trixie took advantage of the chaos. Water gluing her hair to her face, she gave a saucy farewell wave to her captor. “I'll just let the fire department in, shall I?”

And before the man in black could react, she was through the cell door that had automatically unlocked when the fire alarm was engaged. She sprinted down several corridors, choosing a different and much more direct route than the one she had been led down earlier.

“Fools,” she muttered under her breath. “Did they really think they could trick me by taking extra twists and turns?” Within seconds, she was standing in front of the cell she had shared with Honey, Mart, and Diana. She threw open the door and saw her friends huddled together, water pouring off them.

“Hurry! We have to get out of here!” she urged them.

“Trixie!” Honey exclaimed.

“There's no time to talk,” Trixie called, already sprinting down the corridor. “Follow me!” After only a few more turns, the group found themselves staring at three very familiar young men leaving a cell.

“Danno!” Trixie exclaimed, her voice breathless from excitement, exertion, and relief. “Do we have an exit?”

Dan's nod was decisive. “We're three levels below ground. Stairs are around the corner.”

“Is everyone okay?” Jim and Brian asked the same question at the same time.

“We're fine,” Trixie assured them, but her attention was already focused on the long hallway. “We need to keep moving. It won't take Mordem long to slap this place into lock-down. You lead, Danno.”

Trixie brought up the rear, hurrying the group as much as possible. “Keep going,” she urged, her voice tinged with something more than the usual adrenaline. “We need to get out of here. There's no telling--” Her voice trailed off and she paused in front of a closed door. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Honey asked, looking back over her shoulder. The others were too far ahead to hear the conversation.

“I'll catch up with you.”

“Trixie! We have to get out of here! What are you doing?”

Without warning, Trixie threw open the door. Her jaw dropped when she recognized the lone occupant. “Juan!”

“Trixie!” Juan appeared to be just as surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”

She stared at him in consternation. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could decide which of a myriad of questions to ask, Juan was rattling a hand that was cuffed to a ring in the wall.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I don't want to be trapped in a burning building!”

Lips pursed, Trixie considered the situation. If Juan were an agent of Mordem, surely he wouldn't be handcuffed?

“Please, Trixie?” Juan tried a winning smile, but its effect was lost on the well-seasoned operative.

“Now, see here, Juan,” Trixie began, but was stopped by the look of sheer desperation in his eyes. With a sigh, Trixie stepped into the room. “I swear, if you're tricking me...”

Juan thrust his arm forward. “No tricks! Please, just get me out of here!”

Trixie grabbed the out-stretched manacled arm none too gently and examined the lock. “This will just take a second,” she muttered, and removed a bobby pin from her cascade of unruly curls.

“Trixie, we have to hurry!” Honey hissed, sneaking a furtive glance down the hallway. “I'm sure I hear footsteps. And the others are long gone. How are we going to find our way out?”

Trixie chewed her bottom lip and concentrated on the rusty lock that refused to budge. “We'll find a way out.” She stopped to glare at the captive. “Stop ogling my friend. She's not interested.”

Juan shrugged and kept his gaze on Honey. “Just enjoying the scenery, my dear. You know you come first in my heart.”

Trixie shuddered. “You're not helping yourself, Juan.” With a final click, the lock sprang open. She eyed him warily. “Don't mess with me. I'll get you out of here, but you keep your hands and your thoughts to yourself. Got it?”

Juan rubbed his chafed wrist and stood up. “Whatever you say, my dear.” He studied her carefully. “I'm beginning to think I don't know you quite as well as I thought I did.”

Trixie snorted, no longer concerned with continuing her role as a professional companion. “You don't know me at all. Are you coming with us, or not?”

Hands on hips, the petite blonde tapped her foot as she waited for his answer. Even soaking wet, she exuded confidence. Juan raked her with an appraising stare before announcing his decision. “Right behind you.”

As soon as they stepped back into the hallway, it was obvious that something was wrong. The girls stopped short, causing Juan to bump into them.

“Is that smoke?” Honey asked, wrinkling her nose.

Trixie groaned. “I should have realized...”

“Realized what?” Honey demanded, and then smacked her head. “Dan actually started a fire, didn't he? I thought he just managed to trigger the system somehow.”

Trixie nodded. “Setting a fire is still the easiest way to set off a fire alarm.”

The three watched in dismay as tendrils of smoke began to appear. “We have to get out of here. Now.” She took off in the direction of the stairs, Honey and Juan close behind her.

“The door is cool,” Trixie said with relief. “We should be safe going up.” The three plunged into the institutional grey stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. At the first landing, they saw a door labelled Sublevel 2.

“Two levels to go,” she stated, even as she pushed on to the next flight of stairs. Without giving voice to her concerns, Trixie urged them to climb faster. With each second, their danger increased.

And then her worst fear was realized. Just as they reached the landing halfway between sublevel 2 and sublevel 1, the doors from both levels flew open.

“Keep going!” Trixie ran straight for the two beefy men on the landing above her. She felt Honey and Juan catch up to her, motivated by the presence of two thugs on the lower landing who were attempting to block them in.

“Whatever happens, just keep going!” Trixie repeated. And then she closed the distance between herself and the first of the two men heading towards them.

“Heads up,” she warned. In a split second decision, she combined her CIA combat training with what her older brothers had taught her about tackling. Still several steps below her opponent, Trixie threw her arms around his knees and pulled down with all her strength. He hit the stairs hard, his head snapping back and connecting solidly with the concrete steps. In a flash Trixie was past him, hoping that Honey and Juan could make their way around him.

Trixie had almost reached the second man when the door above her opened.

“That's enough,” a quiet voice commanded.

“Nathan.” Trixie studied the young man looming in the doorway. Honey joined her, and the two friends stood side by side. Behind them, Juan nudged the limp form of the first thug out of his way.

“Agent Belden.” Nathan returned Trixie's greeting. “I believe you have something of mine.” He then addressed the three Mordem agents who stood guard at the doors. “You may leave us now.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Something of yours? I thought the cross belonged to Mordem,” she said slowly.

A flash of irritation flickered in Nathan's eyes. “Not anymore,” he said, in a quietly menacing voice. “I really must thank you. You've provided a most welcome diversion, and saved me the trouble of creating one myself.”

“You've wanted the cross for yourself all along,” Trixie accused.

“It should have been mine,” Nathan whispered, his eyes starting to glow. “It was mine! And then it was given to the CIA. It's mine, I tell you!”

Trixie's throat went dry as she observed his increasing agitation. Without a doubt, the situation was about to turn much uglier than it already was.

Seemingly surprised by the force of his own emotions, Nathan frowned, and took a half-step backwards. For an instant, Trixie caught a glimpse of his inner struggle.

“You don't have to do this, Nathan,” Trixie pleaded. “You know how dangerous the cross is. You've seen what it's done to others.” Remembering the kindness he had shown her during the testing, she added, “This isn't you, Nathan. You don't want to do this.”

Nathan shook his head in confusion. “No, I don't want to,” he said, his voice thick. “But I can't stop myself.”

Trixie recoiled in horror at the sudden animosity she felt emanating from Nathan.

“It's mine,” Nathan repeated, and took a step toward her.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Trixie could hear Honey whimpering behind her, and could see Juan trying to edge back down the steps. But her focus was concentrated on the ominous figure approaching her.

“Nathan,” Trixie began, but stopped immediately when she saw that it was too late. Something inside him snapped, and Trixie recoiled at the sudden hatred and unmitigated lust she could feel directed at her, and at the cross.

She took an involuntary step backward.

“Mine,” Nathan hissed.

“No.” Trixie's left hand rose of its own volition to grasp the cross around her neck. She clutched it, feeling a possessive jealousy sweep through her. “No! It's not yours!” She squeezed her eyes shut, and fought the desire to claim the cross for her own.

The physical contact with the cross heightened Trixie's awareness of the people around her. She was vaguely aware of Juan trying to formulate a plan of action, and a disturbing emptiness from Honey. Overpowering all of them, however, was Nathan's desire. Though he wasn't touching her, she sensed his need to possess the cross—by any means necessary. Worst of all, Trixie could feel within herself a strange excitement. She knew that, without a doubt, she had the power to influence the people around her, if she so chose. An image of herself driving Nathan away filled her mind. She would keep the cross, and use it in her work. How much more successful would her missions be with the extra insight the cross would give her! Surely it was her responsibility to keep the cross, and to use it for the good of the CIA? She would have an edge over every opponent, even over her fellow agents. She saw herself promoted, her intelligence and success rewarded. A desire to utilize the cross to its full potential blossomed.

Though distracted, Trixie's primal instincts warned her of Nathan's intent. With a howl of rage, Nathan flung himself at her, and clawed at her throat. Trixie staggered at the assault, and dropped to her knees. Locked in a furious struggle, she could hear Nathan's voice pounding in her head.

“Mine, mine, MINE!” the voice repeated, over and over, and Trixie couldn't be certain if it was still Nathan's voice, or her own desire that she was hearing. Her eyes were now open, but her vision was cloudy, and she saw only vague shapes and bright lights. The only sensation she could discern clearly was the terrible fingers clawing at her.

Her vision went completely when his hands wrested hers away, and he seized the cross for his own. Though the cross still hung on the chain around her neck, she felt an overwhelming anger that anyone should even touch it.

“Mine!” he exclaimed again, but this time he crooned in the voice of a lover.

Trixie raised her hands to unfurl his fingers. “I don't think so,” she panted, and strove with all her might to force him to relinquish his grasp.

With sudden, stinging pain, Trixie felt Nathan pull on the cross. The thick chain held. He twisted the chain with all his might, causing Trixie's head to loll from side to side like a rag doll. Still the chain held.

“No,” Trixie gasped, as her vision became streaked with violent crimson. She continued to struggle against him, but her arms were heavy, useless.

Nathan fed off her helplessness, and choked her throat with one of his hands even as he struggled to break the clasp of the chain. Trixie managed to grasp each of his arms with her hands, but she was powerless to overcome her assailant, who brushed away her puny efforts as easily as she might have brushed aside an irritating insect.

With one last powerful tug, Trixie felt the skin of her neck burn, and the chain snapped. Nathan let go of Trixie, and she collapsed onto the stairs. When she had caught her breath, she realized that she was leaning against Honey's limp body. Juan was several steps lower, looking dazed at the turn of events. The only sound in the stairwell was laboured breathing.

Just as Trixie was mustering the energy to check on Honey, the door at the top of the stairs flew open for a second time. Her body sagged with relief when she identified the gun-toting figure as Dan.

“Hands up, Nathan,” Dan commanded, his black eyes hard as rock.

Nathan turned to Dan in surprise, and Dan saw the cross in his hand. Keeping the gun trained on him, Dan repeated the order, but Nathan merely smiled. He raised the cross in victory and turned back to run down the stairs. Reluctant to fire a shot in the stairwell, Dan followed.

Trixie struggled to stop Nathan as he attempted to go past her down the stairs, but he shoved her to the side. Trixie watched in surprise as Juan deftly tripped Nathan, throwing him into a free fall. Nathan landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with a sickening thud, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Happy landings,” she heard Juan mutter as he stood up and dusted his hands.

“They'll be back,” Dan said tersely, referring to the agents of Mordem Nathan had ordered away. He hurried down the steps and crouched beside Honey and Trixie.

“What happened to Honey?” he asked, checking her pulse and breathing.

Trixie merely shook her head, unable to account for her friend's collapse.

Juan answered quietly. “She took one look at Nathan, and fainted.”

Trixie fought back a wave of panic. “Is she okay?” she asked anxiously.

“She will be when we get her out of here,” Dan replied, and attempted to lift her.

“Dan!” Trixie exclaimed in horror. “What's wrong with your arm?”

Dan barely spared a glance at his left arm. “I think I may have broken something. We encountered a little resistance on the way out.”

“I'll help,” Juan offered, and between the two of them, they began carrying Honey up the stairs.

They were almost to the door to the first sublevel when it once again opened unexpectedly. This time, instead of a person, the occupants of the stairwell were horrified to see a grenade lobbed down the stairs and right at them.

“Go, go, GO!” Trixie yelled, spurring on Dan and Juan. Though the stairwell was crowded, Trixie squeezed past them and managed to fling wide the door for them. The deafening boom of the exploding grenade caught them before they could make it through, and the four of them were tossed through the opening like rag dolls.

They landed hard. Trixie felt the sting of cement against her cheek as she connected with the floor. With an agonized grunt, Dan landed beside her, attempting to shield her from the worst of the explosion. Close by, Honey and Juan were huddled in a lifeless heap. When the debris settled, Trixie crawled to her best friend.

“Honey?” she whispered. “Honey?” she called louder, in an attempt to rouse her. “Madeline Georgiana Wheeler, you wake up! Do you hear me?”

“Don't call me that!” Honey mumbled, but Trixie's words had the desired effect. Honey struggled to sit up, and then swayed uncertainly. She pressed a hand to her temple.

“Dan? Juan?” Trixie nudged the still-prostrate men. “Wakey, wakey. We need to get out of here.”

Juan groaned, but struggled to his feet. “I'm starting to have my doubts about you, Trixie.”

Ignoring him, Trixie turned to her partner. “Dan? Are you okay?”

Dan nodded, but Trixie could see that his face was unnaturally pale. “Are you hurt?” she demanded.

“I'll live. Let's get moving.” Dan stood up, cradling his left arm, and wincing.

Honey tried to stand up, but again swayed dangerously. She sank against Juan. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

Juan caught her easily. “We'll get you out of here,” he promised.

Dan checked the stairwell. “We'll have to find another route. The stairs are blocked.”

Juan checked the hallway. “There's a lot of smoke,” he warned.

“We'll have to risk it,” was Dan's grim reply.

The four started down the dark hallway. Emergency lights throbbed to life, joining the wail of the fire alarm. The smoke was dense. Honey's slender frame was wracked with coughs, and she was forced to allow Juan to help support her.

“You're doing fine, Honey,” Trixie said, her eyes streaming with sooty tears from the smoke. She peered down the hallway, hoping to see an exit. “We're almost there,” she encouraged, even though she had no idea where they were.

A sound like a clap of thunder stopped them. The four looked at each other in alarm as the entire passageway reverberated.

“They're destroying the lab,” Trixie guessed.

The floor shook as another explosion rocked the building. Black smoke belched out of the ruined stairwell, and they heard a sinister creaking.

“The building is going down,” Dan stated. They stared at each other for one helpless moment.

“Not with us in it, it's not.” Trixie broke the brief silence. Choking and coughing, she led the four down the dark, smoky hall.

“Stairs!” She almost cried with relief when she saw the flashing red sign. When they reached the stairwell, they were relieved to discover that though it was smoky and hot, it was still passable.

They pounded up the stairs as quickly as possible, then burst through the door at the top. If anything, the ground level floor was filled with even more smoke than the levels they had just escaped. Through the dense fog, they could see and hear people trying to escape. Without a second thought, they plunged into the open area, joined the crowd, and headed for the flashing exit sign.

“Almost there,” Trixie panted, grateful that the smoke hid their identities. “We're going to make it.”

They were halfway to the exit when another explosion rocked the building. This time, the sound was much louder, and the shaking didn't stop.

“The building is collapsing!” someone screamed, and the already terrified crowd panicked. Pushing and shoving, everyone strove for the exit.

Honey, Juan, Dan, and Trixie struggled to stay together, but it became even more difficult as they neared the door. “Almost there,” Trixie repeated, her eye on the door.

Just then, the loudest explosion yet occurred, causing outer walls to crumble. “Go!” Trixie screamed, and pushed Honey ahead with all her might.

Honey tried to turn back, but Trixie begged, “Please, go!” and Juan forced her through the opening and toward safety. She won't be another Maria, Trixie promised herself.

Rather than following her friends, Trixie stayed at the door, urging on the last of the fleeing people, and searching for Dan, who had seemingly dropped behind.

“Trixie!” She heard her own name called, and saw Dan making his way toward her. “We've done all we can,” he panted, limping to her side.

But before they could take another step, huge chunks of the wall beside them tumbled down, blocking the exit.

Unable to reach safety, Dan and Trixie dropped to the floor. Trixie couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard herself scream as the entire building collapsed around them. Walls, floor, and ceiling became a single pile of ruin. Trixie felt a sharp rap on her head, and then everything was black.