Date: Mon, 8 Aug 2011 22:36:21 +0100
From: Micheal Chukwu <michealwitluv@gmail.com>
Subject: The Game 20

                   Secrets Out

   "No! Marcus, don't be stupid, he's not following us. He doesn't know
you've gone. He won't take Robbie! Marcus, stop it! No! Marcus!"

   McCall, who had jerked awake only moments before from his own dark
dreams gathered Jake close, soothing and caressing him until he fell back
into quieter dreams.

   So that's why Jake never sleeps a whole night through.

   Yeah, they were kindred spirits, even more than he had known. Jake's
past walked the night with him just as it did with him, haunting them like
ghosts unseen, darkening dreams, allowing no rest, no peace or freedom.
Challenging every waking moment, shaping them as people. Keeping them in
chains.

   And with those few words, Jake had just confirmed what he had believed
to be true from the moment he took his virginity.

   Marcus de Souza was the one who had married Falcone. Jake had gone to
save him, even after Marcus had, it seemed, stolen Jake's identity and
married Falcone under his name; and Jake had been in the accident that took
Marcus' life. He had then saved Danny, given him a life free of Falcone's
filth, even if it meant sacrificing his own wants and need.

   "And it wasn't Jake who had ignored my calls, who had refused to see
me. It was Marcus -- Marcus who didn't have a clue who I was."

   Freedom... sweet, beautiful liberty, Jake had loved him then, Jake
remained faithful to his memory, even while believing that he -- McCall
-- had betrayed his country. Jake had come with him today, made love with
him, given him the priceless gift of his virginity, still not knowing who
he was, whether he would betray him.

   And I did.

   And as fast as that, the walls slammed between them, even as he held
Jake's naked body in his arms, sated from their loving. There was no way
back. He had chosen the path he had walked the past decade, the road of
shadows and lies... and in doing so; he had destroyed any hope of
forgiveness. He had tricked Jake into marriage, let him perform his
innocent seduction, made love to Jake twice, all the while knowing that he
had betrayed him, and would do it again. McCall would take every piece of
knowledge Jake had given him and hand it to the relevant authorities,
knowing Jake would hate him for that.

   Two roads. One betrayed Jake, Danny and even himself, everything he had
ever wanted or dreamed of in life; the other destroyed every code he had
lived by since he had joined the SEALs and the
Nighthawks. Honor. Courage. Commitment. The greater good, the bigger
picture -- the faceless innocents who needed him to walk in the shadows,
to not exist as a person, to kill if he had to, so that their daily
survival was ensured.

   The need and hopes of three people, as against the thousands who would
face Falcone guns and bombs and rugs. There wasn't a choice. If McCall had
to do it again he would without hesitation.

   That didn't mean he was proud of it; but self-hate was no stranger to
his life. Neither was being alone.

   He was what he was. A sealed juvenile file, courtesy of the navy, only
locked the truth inside his heart. Yeah, he had turned his back in his
world, clawed his way through college and became SEAL, then a Nighthawk;
but McCall was still that kid beneath. The man only had a thin veneer of
decency, honor and courage. He was the son of a dirty drunk, birth to
death, the kid not even good enough for his own mom to love. He had to earn
his place in the sun, had to fight every day to remain a man of integrity,
and if that meant sacrificing the dream of home and love and family he
still craved in his heart every day and night, so be it. He couldn't allow
himself to hope that Jake, the original earth father and fierce warrior for
his son, would understand the bigger picture.

   The guttersnipe eternally in love with the princess was a fairy tale
with no chance of happy ending. One day of happiness with Jake's was all he
was ever going to get, despite what McCall had said about being his man
-- and he had taken it.

   And as soon as Jake awoke, it would be time to pay the piper.

                                   **************

   Jake felt bubbles of happiness seeping through his soul as he came back
from sleep, joy coming directly from the heartbeat beneath his ear, and the
strong arms holding him close. And from feeling absolutely and thoroughly
loved...

   Jake sighed, feeling more content than he could have believed under the
circumstances. For he knew what was coming. It might have been Brendan, who
had taken him to bed today, but McCall the operative was always there, a
part of him he wouldn't leave behind for long -- not even for Jake's
sake. His sense of duty was too great a part of his make up to submerge for
love. It was intrinsic, undeniable and Jake wouldn't love McCall so much if
he didn't have such a strong code of honor, even if it meant that McCall
would hand him over to his boss tonight. Jake had to trust in that sense of
honor, to know he would never betray him.

   "Mmm..." Jake stretched catlike over McCall, smiling at McCall's
immediate reaction, and knew he was awake. "I haven't slept that well in
years." Jake allowed McCall to see the smile now, sweet and languorous,
asking blatantly for more loving.

   McCall didn't smile in return. "I gathered that from your dream about
Marcus's death before."

   Jake stilled. "All right. I was expecting the inquisition to start soon
anyway. Fire away. I'll tell you everything I can."

   "No, baby." McCall said his voice dark. "You'll tell me
everything. Period. We are out of time. Falcone's left his island, Jake
-- he is coming. We have to do this now, or not at all."

   Jake sighed and nodded. "All right." Feeling oddly shy, he pulled the
sheet against his bare chest. "Can I get dressed first? I don't think this
is your standard procedure to interrogate someone."

   McCall's mouth quirked a little. "I don't remember seeing it in the
manual, or hearing it in interrogation 101. James Bond might favor the
approach, but it's too distracting." He walked into the living room to
gather their clothes, naked and beautiful and mussed, musky with the loving
they shared.

   Jake ached, watching every step, wanting McCall so badly.

   McCall came back dressed in his jeans and tossed Jake's clothes over to
him, turning his back while Jake dressed. When Jake made a soft coughing
sound, McCall turned a small tape recorder in one hand. He pressed "record"
and spoke into the machine, his dark, musical voice cool and clipped. Team
Commander McCall had returned, the ultimate professional, and even
expecting this from him, it hurt Jake in a way he couldn't
explain. "Nighthawk Team Commander One, on Operation Falcon. This is a
voluntary interview given by Jacob de Souza Falcone..."

   "No." Jake's interruption was sharp-edged. "That's not my name. I never
married Robert Falcone. My cousin Marcus did, using my name, with my birth
certificate and my forged signature."

   "Interview with subject Jacob de Souza. Do you, Jacob de Souza, give
this information of your own free will?" McCall went on, relentless, but
dropping the Falcone, at least.

   Jake shifted his chin, sitting on the still-mussed bed with quiet
defiance. "Yes, I do."

   "Please, answer the questions for the record." McCall moved the small
microphone between them, but keeping his distance. "You confirm that you
are Jacob Javier de Souza, the only child of the late Brazilian Ambassador
to the US, Edurado de Souza, and his wife, Cristabel de Souza?"

   "Yes, I do."

   "You now live by the name Jacob Silver?"

   "Yes."

   "State your last known address for the tape please?"

   "Lot 66, Parkfield Way, Renegade River, New Zealand."

   "Were you living there legally?"

   "No."

   "For the record, are you the Jacob Javier de Souza who married Robert
Falcone?"

   "No, sir, I'm not."

   "Are you the Jacob de Souza Falcone who is natural father of Robert
Faclone's only known child, Roberto?"

   Jake felt the blood drain from his face so fast he swayed. "Brendan,
don't ask me that>" He whispered. If he knew the consequences of what he
had asked... the possible consequences to Danny's life.

   "Please address me for the tape as Team Commander McCall. Are you the
birth father of Robert Falcone's child, Roberto?" McCall's voice was cold
and relentless -- the voice of duty.

   Jake squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the stinging tears trickle from
between his lids. "No, I am not the birth father of the child. My cousin
Marcus de Souza Falcone, who married Robert Falcone under my name, gave
birth to Roberto."

   "This is the child you now call Daniel Silver?"

   Agony gripped her. "Yes."

   "Please, speak up for the tape."

   "Yes." He growled from between gritted teeth.

   "For how many years did Marcus de Souza Falcone pass himself as you,
Mr. de Souza?"

   With a violent struggled, Jake regained control. He had always known
this interview would be had, but with the man he loved, his tender lover
being the cold-faced interrogator, Jake felt violated --
humiliated. "Just over three years."

   "Was this substitution of lives done with your permission, Mr. de
Souza?"

   "At first." He replied, now calm and cold. "My parents had just died. I
wanted time to recover, and my work commitments didn't allow for that. I
was under contract, so I had little choice... but Marcus wanted to try my
life. He had just finished his final rounds of therapy for scoliosis --
and he had had a nose job that made him look almost exactly like me. I
agreed to let him try modeling for a few weeks, and if anyone in the
business knew about the switch, they didn't make a fuss. Maybe because I
had made it evident that I was no longer happy in modeling. But Marcus had
always hungered for attention and reveled in the life, so much so, he
wouldn't swap back. He ruined my reputation, made men think I would sleep
with anyone. I foresaw consequences I wasn't prepared to face. So I retired
from public life, gave him my identity and took his. I lived quietly in
England for three years as Marcus de Souza, then after I took Danny I spent
two years in England as Christian le Mons and for the last five years in
New Zealand as Jacob Murray and Jacob Silver."

   "Did Marcus de Souza Falcone marry Robert Falcone under your name with
your knowledge and consent?"

   Jake sat up straight, glaring at him. "I didn't know about the marriage
until I read about it in the papers, and by then, Marcus had convinced
himself he had the right to marry Falcone as me, because he was Jacob. He
wanted the fame, and I didn't. I had given up that life, and he had done
the hard work, increased my profile made Jacob de Souza someone apart from
me. He had met Falcone while fulfilling my contract."

   "Why did you move from England to New Zealand and take the illegal
identity of Jacob Silver?"

   Jake moistened his lips with his tongue. "When I first moved to England,
I became the boarder of man who had worked for the Special Operations
Executive, Churchill's spy network in Europe during World War II. A man who
knew the business inside out and he liked to talk to me about what he
called "the game". He was demobbed after the war along with the entire
division, tossed aside with another twenty operatives. Those people banded
together and created their own post-spy group, men and women who liked to
keep their skills sharp by seeking out peoples' secrets in their local
areas and sharing their knowledge, in a room where the knowledge would
never leave, so it hurt no one. Anyone they suspected of felonies, of
course, they reported to the police." He smiled. "Much to the annoyance of
the local police at times. But it was basically harmless."

   Jake sighed and ran a hand across his hair.

   "Do you need anything -- a drink of water?"

   McCall's voice was softer -- not enough to be noticeable to many. Just
to his lover. "Yes, please."

   Jake accepted the water with quiet thanks, and gulped it down. Then he
squared his shoulders and kept speaking. "Dan Cassel was his name. He took
me in as a boarder, showed me the area, and took me to the local evening
college to learn pottery. I mimicked his accent, trying to sound English so
that I would distance myself from all the baggage of Jacob de Souza, and
Dan never questioned it. And -- and when I returned from Amalza with a
baby, ten million dollars and enough evidence to send Falcone to the
electric chair, he found me a new place to live, taught me to fly -- he
was a pilot with SOE. He also sent me to learn martial arts and to handle
all kinds of weapons. He made all the necessary precautions to keep us
safe."

   "Then what happened?"

   The intrigued note in McCall's voice would have made him smile at any
other time. "Marcus had never been all that stable. He had been in and out
hospitals all his life, and my aunt and uncle died when he was only six. He
came to live with us, but he always had a love-hate relationship with me. I
didn't have scoliosis, so in his mind, I was the pretty one. And when I got
the modeling contract, and he only got more operations, he grew resentful."
Jake sighed again. "Falcone wasn't a kind husband, and his infatuation with
Marcus didn't last much past the honeymoon. He kept saying that he wasn't
at all like the Jacob he had wanted. One day, after the baby's birth,
Marcus got tired of the gibes and told Falcone the truth -- that he had
been duped. That he was Marcus and I, Jacob was living in England. He
started searching for me that day. Thank God I had been too angry with
Marcus to give him my address, and he had burned his copy of my number once
he overheard Falcone's plan." Jake's voice sounded flat, dead even in his
own ears as he told him the rest of his unbelievable tale. "Falcone planned
to kill Marcus and replace him with me. In his eyes, I was his real
husband. He had married the dream, Jacob de Souza and that was who he
wanted, not some pathetic, overemotional substitute, as he called Marcus."

   The silence lasted all of six seconds. "Go on."

   Jake nodded. "Marcus called me and told me everything. He begged me to
help him leave Falcone, to get the baby away safe. He told me that Falcone
let his hit men play with the baby... that his men took recreational drugs
near the baby, and people had liaisons openly in the house. Marcus was
desperate to get Robbie away from that kind of corruption, and I believed
him. My parents brought us up very strictly, and though I understood why
Marcus had gone wild when he took my life and made stupid mistakes, I knew
he wouldn't want that life, and his baby." Jake looked down, fiddling with
his fingers. "I loved Marcus, despite his problems -- he was all I had. I
promised to help. So I told Dan everything. He called in his people, and
Hazel -- she worked in the SOE, too -- roped her son in. He was a
fighter pilot in Vietnam and had his own charter business. I flew in to
Amalza illegally with Ron and a few of Dan's friends to get Marcus and
Danny out."

   "What happened that night?"

   Jake pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. Oh, dear God, he
wanted to hold his hands to his ears, but nothing ever blocked out the
agonizing screams. They were wired in his head with amplified speakers
covered in golden lettering: guilt. "Falcone couldn't kill Marcus until I
was installed in the house, but he kept Marcus under guard, he and the baby
and the nanny. We were in despair. I decided to show myself on Amalza, to
distract Falcone. I made a formal complain to the police on the island as
Marcus de Souza, claiming Falcone was abusing my cousin. Falcone couldn't
let me believe that he was an abuser, not until he had me under lock and
key as his `legal' husband." Jake frowned down at his hands, watching them
twisting, turning around each other.

   "Go on." McCall prompted him gently.

   "I called Falcone's house, demanding to talk to Falcone. I didn't give
away too much -- I came across as furious, suspicious of his motives,
ready to press charges unless I saw evidence that Marcus was being treated
kindly. Falcone was as smooth as cream, trying to charm me. I played Jacob
to the hilt for him. I said coldly that a man who locked my cousin in a
cage like an animal was of no interest to me, beyond notifying his acts to
the police. I said I had no desire to meet such a piece of filth that I
would remain in hiding until I saw for myself that Marcus was well and
happy. He was furious, I could tell, but he dared not take it out on
Marcus. He let Marcus out, walking on the grounds every day while Falcone
grew obsessed with finding my hideout. And he grew more careless as I
called him less and less, as I grew colder and more imperious -- exactly
the way he had fantasized Jacob to be. Falcone became so careless that
Marcus collected the money and the evidence on him without him
noticing. One night we went for broke. I kept him on the phone with me, and
got him to deploy almost all his men to the other side of the island with
an "accidental" hint of where I was. When they left, I hinted at my sexual
fantasies to keep Falcone riveted on the call -- and Marcus and the nanny
snuck out of the house with the baby strapped to the nanny's back. They
made it to the trees Falcone kept by the walls. Ron climbed a tree and took
Danny from the nanny, and handed him to me." Jake felt the tender smile
radiate from his face. That moment of pure joy, when he had seen the child
who would become his Danny for the first time... when he had held him in
his arms...

   "Yes?"

   Jake started. "Ron helped Marcus over the wall, then Lynette -- the
nanny. Then he and Lynette went in one car and Marcus, the baby and I in
another. The plan was that we would drive to confuse pursuers is necessary,
but they didn't come." Jake shuddered. "But nothing I could say convinced
Marcus of that. He went off the rails, crying and screaming, accusing me of
endangering his life to get mine back. He just won't shut up, and when I
lost it and yelled at him that if he didn't like it I could take him back
to his husband now, he panicked and grabbed at the wheel -- and we hit a
tree by the cliff face." A slow, shaking hand covered his mouth as the
scene played over again Jake's mind, as it did almost every night, in vivid
life-and-death color. "Marcus screamed as we headed for the tree and as we
hit it, screamed in agony. But he didn't make a sound after that. He just
looked at me and then, he died."

   The silence grew. "I'm sorry for your loss." The stiff, formal words
that eventually came from McCall's mouth in no way convened the emotion in
his eyes. The black, soulless eyes of a man who knew how it felt to watch
someone die. The guilt of being left to go on, too tortured by the silent
reproach to truly live, love and learn while they were cold in the grave.

   Unwilling to give in, to share the emotion with him right now, while he
had more to tell, Jake merely nodded.

   "How did the car get down to the base of the ravine?"

   "We pushed it over, Ron and Lynette and me. Ron -- Ron said it was
best to burn all the evidence possible. He wanted Falcone to think one of
us was dead, maybe all three of us, if he had believed that two bodies
washed out on the tide. I had to do it." Jake said, his voice filled with
quiet torture. "I helped push my cousin off the cliff, watched the car
explode on impact and incinerated his body, all to save his son. We took
the suitcase with the money and the tape Marcus stole, got into the other
car, drove to the plane and flew back to England."

   "Why did you leave England for New Zealand?"

   Jake shuddered again. "Falcone kept looking for me. I was sure he knew
who I was, that I had Danny, Old Dan -- I named Danny after him, since he
saved our lives -- said it was too dangerous for me to live with him
anymore. I moved in with Ron's brother's daughter, Ruby, a single mother in
Newcastle. But on night Butch -- Dan's ex-gunner -- called. He said
Falcone's men were on to me... and they had killed Dan, execution style
through the head. He was eighty-five." Jake frowned; losing the tread of
his story in the guilt that till drowned him every time he thought of Dan
with a bullet hole in his forehead.

   "You're bleeding, Mr. de Souza."

   Jake tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, and released the
corner of his lip his teeth had unconsciously attacked. "Butch didn't know
what Falcone's men had found out, but I had to run. He booked me an
e-ticket for Sydney to pick up at Heathrow -- and he left a suitcase
there for me with about five disguises in it for us, plus new passports I
had to ditch in Auckland. He said I had to get to New Zealand without
trace, and get to a given address in the Bay of Islands when I was certain
my trail had grown cold. I rented a house for two months in Auckland until
I was sure no one was looking for me... then after I called to make sure he
was still alive, I went to the address Butch gave me. Harry Silver was
Dan's copilot, who moved out of England after the war, and he took us in as
his granddaughter and great-grandson. He created Jake Silver, his son and
the Bay people accepted us and protected us from prying questions and
warned us when anyone asked about us. Harry got us legal looking birth
certificates from Dunedin, taught me to fly a seaplane and drive boats. We
settled in here, I opened my business and our lives were quiet and
happy. Harry died of a heart attack two years ago, but our identities were
established in the Bay and an escape route thoroughly practiced and
assured. For the first time in some years, I felt safe."

   "Where is the tape that Marcus Falcone stole? The taped conversation
that implicates Falcone in the murder of U.S. Senator Bernard Colsten?"

   Jake blew out a sight. This was it -- the final leverage he had to
stay safe, given into the hands of these mysterious Nighthawks. He just
prayed to God he had made the right decision. "Dan, Ron and I put it in a
safe-deposit box in Zurich, along with Falcone's money, two days after I
got back from Amalza. Only Ron or I can get it out now and only together to
stop any chance of paid corruption. Both out handprints must be verified to
get the box. If Ron dies, a signed copy of his written permission, along
with a legible handprint for verification will come to me via three
independent lawyers, two of whose names I don't know. And if I don't check
in with the bank every Monday night -- 10 a.m. their time -- and verify
that I am alive, the tape as well as two copies we made goes to Britain,
then on the United States. One to the director of the FBI, another to the
CIA and one directly to the president via John Roth, one of the assistant
directors of special ops in MI5."

   Silent, long and stunned. "Is this a joke?"

   Jake lifted an eyebrow. "You've had people checking everything of mine,
right? Have you found any money or tapes anywhere?"

   "Answer the question for the tape. Is this the truth?"

   At that, Jake got to his feet looking hard into McCall's eyes. "Yes. The
tapes and the money are in Zurich. John Roth only knows what he has to do,
not what's the box. He's Butch's nephew and assumes it's another spy game
his uncle is playing."

   "You mentioned earlier that a man attacked you at the house in Renegade
River." When Jake sighed an affirmative, McCall asked, "How do you know it
was a male?"

   Through gritted teeth, Jake growled. "Unless the woman in question had a
problem with facial hair and had rolled something hard down the front of
her jeans, the person holding me was male and turned on by trying to kill
me. He was aroused."

   McCall nodded. "Thank you, Mr. de Souza. This concludes my interview
with the subject." He turned off the tape recorder.

   Furious now, Jake decided to go for broke. "If I may be permitted to ask
you a question, was our marriage today a joke, a plot to gain the evidence
you are so desperate to get? Do operatives usually marry their subjects? Or
does this show mw how far you will go to...?"

   "Let's not do this. Keeping you safe..."

   "Stop lying to me! I've put my damn life on the line here, my six year
old son's! Will you give me nothing in return -- nothing but a piece of
paper and a few hours in bed? Is that common practice for your operatives
too?"

   McCall swore to himself. He had pushed Jake too far. He had known it,
even as he pushed. "Jake..."

   Jake gritted his teeth. "It's Mr. de Souza to you Team Commander
McCall. Put the tape back on if you are going to incriminate yourself --
or is it only me that risks it all here? Are you that much of a coward that
you won't reveal what you've done to me for posterity? Is your damn career
worth more than my life, or Danny's?"

   McCall didn't answer, he couldn't. For Jake words hit him like another
land mine, blowing all his elf-delusions up in his face. Jake was half
right, and that half made him feel like a piece of crap. Until this week,
his career meant everything to him.

   It had been all he had.

   Jake turned his back on him when he didn't speak. When does your team
arrive -- including, I would guess the lady who was apparently dead this
morning -- and where do we go after Zurich? Assuming, of course, that the
offer of protective custody for us lasts beyond my giving you the tapes and
the money?"

   Yeah, Jake had it all down pat, including his assumptions that Anson
would conveniently forget about him once his part in world peace was
played. "I'll personally ensure your safety."