Melissa peered over Nick's shoulder as he scrolled through the information. He stopped and they both reread the paragraph on the screen. An intriguing twist—turned out Maxwell was a trust fund baby. It fit. Wealth often enabled bad ideas as well as good ones. 

Nick paged down a little more. He stopped at something even more interesting. Jameson had accepted Maxwell as a graduate student at Yale only after Maxwell's parents donated a new wing to the psychology center. The school probably forced Jameson to take him on.

On instinct, Nick switched the search to find images of CIRAS's director. The minute the first image appeared, he recognized the man right away, though he had never seen him before. He was short and bald, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and had small, dark eyes, just as Henry Walker had described him. The only thing Nick couldn't see in any of the pictures was his shoes, but he was sure they would be well polished.

"That's Dr. Maxwell?" Nick nodded. "I don't like the look in his eyes. He has an aura of malice around him." She shivered.

Nick saw the same thing, though he couldn't catalog it. Malevolence was stamped into Maxwell's features. Abruptly, he said, "Melissa, I need to go into the basement and have a look around." He left before she could answer, not wanting to waste time talking. 

"I'm coming." She followed him.

As they descended the steps, Nick felt the weight of his task descend on him, too. He had forgotten what this kind of pressure was like, where the only option was success because peoples' lives depended on it. By leaving the CIA, he had left behind that kind of burden.

Melissa stood so close to him that he could feel the heat of her breath through his thin T-shirt. He punched Natalie's code into the security pad. The door sprung open, and he looked inside. It reminded him of old times.

The room had been outfitted well with all of the equipment he would need for his mission. As he contemplated the many different types of equipment on the shelves—password decoders, security scramblers, weapons—the walls started to feel too tight around him. He let his breath take away his resistance and plucked a Glock from the wall.

"Holy crap," said Melissa. "This is unbelievable."

Nick turned around.

She swallowed and looked at the gun in his hands. 

"Welcome to the CIA."

Melissa nodded. "It looks like something out of a movie. Do you think you have what you need here to break into CIRAS and get Sidney out?"

Nick buried his sigh. He had to be honest with her. "Melissa, you realize that Sidney might not be at CIRAS, right? We don't know for sure he's one of the children they took. It might not be that straightforward."

Melissa stared at the weapons and devices on the wall for a moment before she turned to face him. "I know you're right." Her voice was soft.

"I will find him, wherever he is." He smoothed her hair back behind her ear. "But I still need to go into CIRAS no matter what. There are other children there, and we need to make sure they get out, too."

Melissa looked at him from underneath her lashes. "I know you do. I know this is about more than just saving Sidney. You're a good man, Nick. I'm lucky to have you." She said in a choked voice, "The world is lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have you, too." He kissed her forehead.

"I'm going back upstairs so you can work."

Nick smiled. She understood him. "Thanks."

He perused the contents of the room. Here in a ten-by-ten-foot space were all the devices he had used while he was still active in the CIA. There were also many new ones. He crossed his arms and wrinkled his forehead. Technology had come a long way in the past few years. He exhaled noisily. He had some work to do.

Even though he worked as a private investigator, it had been years since he had infiltrated a high-security building. Nick didn't doubt his ability to do it. The truth was he just didn't want to. Not really.

The CIA was inherently selfish and completely dominating. Working for them was like being in a relationship with somebody who was insanely possessive. For Nick to accomplish what he needed to at CIRAS, he would have to treat this job as if it were a CIA mission. He didn't want to turn on that cold, calculating side of himself, but it was the only way he could be single-minded enough to do what needed to be done.

~~~

When he returned upstairs, Melissa said, "I'm making some dinner for us."

He saw that the table was set and some candles were lit. It looked nice, but he wasn't in a state of mind to appreciate it. "Thanks," he said, knowing he sounded cold.

Melissa zigzagged through the kitchen, finishing up her preparations. "Can I get you some wine?"

"Is there any vodka?" He leaned against the counter not far from where she was working.

"I'll check." She found some and put the vodka, ice, and a splash of club soda into a glass. She handed it to him.

"Thanks." He took a deep swallow.

Melissa opened the oven and poked the potatoes with a fork.  "Something on your mind?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay. Well, why don't you sit down? Dinner's just about done."

"Yeah, sure."

"Nick, what's up?"

"Nothing. What can I help with?"

Melissa sighed. "Nothing. Just go sit down. I'll bring dinner out in a minute."

"Okay." Nick took his glass and walked to the table.

Dinner was probably delicious, but he couldn't tell because he couldn't taste anything.

"Nick, I don't want to stay here anymore. I want to go home."

His head jolted up. He hadn't realized he was staring at his plate. "Melissa, that is out of the question."

"Who says?"

"I say." He didn't have time for this. He had too much to concentrate on. She didn't understand. "Melissa, don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Be impatient. Difficult."

She crumbled her napkin and held it in her fist. "You're the one being difficult!"

Nick held his tongue.

"You're being cold and distant. And you know how frightened I am! I need you now, Nick."

He closed his eyes. "I'm doing what I can. I just need to give my attention to my mission. I thought you got that."

"I do." She cast her eyes downward. "I don't." She glanced up again. "I don't know what to think. I'm confused and scared. I feel alone."

"You aren't alone!" His words shot out.

"Don't get mad at me."

Damn. His resources were low for handling this sort of thing. Finally, he managed to say, "I'm not mad at you."

"Then let me visit the Walkers."

Nick stood up, propelled by his frustration. "One has nothing to do with the other! It's not a punishment to keep you here. It's for your safety, Melissa. You have absolutely no idea what we're dealing with. The CIA, the Mafia, the NIH, and God knows who else are all in this together. That means there is no one, and I mean no one, we can trust for sure."

Melissa threw down the balled-up napkin like it was a gauntlet. She hadn't listened to anything he had said.

Nick watched it land on the table. He begged, "Please, Melissa, just trust me."

"I'm trying to. It's not easy. I'm going upstairs to lie down."

Nick let her stomp up the stairs. It would be better if they were apart for a little while. He went back down to the basement to get reacquainted with his equipment.