It was damn hot in Georgia, unseasonably so, and Chris eased his damp shirt away from the small of his back, grimacing slightly.  He needed a cool shower and a cold beer, not necessarily in that order.  Where the hell was Curtis?  With a sigh, he dragged his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and hit the short dial, hoping he didn't catch his partner in a bad mood.

CI5 had been requested to investigate militia activities in the States in light of fears that there may be another Oklahoma bombing.  Their search had taken them to Georgia and to the door of one Shepherd Davies, a figure who was known locally to be sympathetic to the right wing militias' cause.  While Chris was off gathering further intel, Sam was keeping Davies under surveillance.  They knew from watching for the last few days that Davies had a set pattern.  Around six every evening he went to his local bar, got wasted and spouted a lot of right wing crap.  Around eleven he got himself thrown out and drove back to his home, weaving precariously the whole way and oblivious of the two CI5 agents trailing him.  A couple of nights of this, and they'd got bored of watching him, aware of the fact that they stuck out like a sore thumb in the closemouthed atmosphere of Davies' favourite haunt.  Instead they'd handed the evening surveillance over to the local FBI, who at least had the accents right, and retired to their rooms at the motel.

Six thirty and no sign of Curtis.  Keel had already admitted to himself that he probably called Curtis more frequently when they were apart than the job required, partly because the job was dangerous and he needed the reassurance that his lover was all right and partly because he just liked hearing Sam's voice.  So far, Curtis hadn't called him on it, but it was only a matter of time.  As he listened to the phone ringing with no answer, he wondered if this was Curtis' way of subtly telling him that he was fed up with it.

Still ringing.  No, Sam wouldn't do that, knowing that it would worry the hell out of Chris.  If he were annoyed about it, he'd tell him, not leave him hanging here imagining the worst.  Take him to one side and tell him he was making a fool of himself, and did Chris want Malone to suspect the change in their relationship before they were ready to tell him?  Chris could hear the lecture in Sam's sardonic voice in his mind, so vivid that he would have smiled if he hadn't been fighting down the panic that was gripping his gut.

Six thirty five and this was no joke.  He disconnected the futile call, and dialled Malone.

**********

Sixteen hours and Sam was still missing.  The longer he was missing the tenser Chris got.  By now it didn't matter that Sam was a CI5 officer, at least as highly trained as Chris, or that he'd been one for longer than the American had.  It didn't matter that he'd served in some of the most dangerous parts of the world and survived.  All that mattered was that his lover was missing, and the longer he was missing the less chance there was of finding him alive.  And that was tearing Chris apart.

Davies had gone to ground, and it looked as though he had taken Sam with him.  Another of his cronies was also missing, the FBI team watching him having no idea when or how he'd slipped their surveillance.  They'd found Sam's car not far from Davies' home, and signs of a struggle, but no Sam.  A few drops of blood on the driver's door, not enough to suggest serious injury.  Forensics were suggesting that someone's head had been banged against it.  The blood group was Sam's.

Inside Davies' house, sitting there in plain sight on the dining table were Sam's ID and his gun.  A warning, Malone had originally thought.  A sign that let them know that they had him.  His theory was that they were probably keeping him as a hostage in case they needed one.  Chris couldn't suppress the fear that it was not a warning but a boast.  'Look here, bagged me a CI5 agent.'  Another CI5 assignment gone wrong, and it looked more and more as though Sam was paying the price for their most recent failure.

Sixteen hours and no demands, no word, nothing.  Even Malone was beginning to lose hope.  And the FBI were worse than useless.  Keel had almost come to blows with one of their agents already.  Only Backup injecting a note of sanity into the proceedings had prevented him.  And now he was on automatic pilot, pushing all of his feelings down into the pit of his stomach, allowing nothing more to show on the surface than a man worried about his partner and friend.  Not lover.  He couldn't show that, not yet, maybe not ever.  Sam would kill him.  Please god let Sam be alive to kill him.

He was sitting in their temporary HQ, his head buried in his hands, desperately trying to think of something they'd missed, some clue or hint which would lead them to Sam when the call came through to Malone.  When he heard Sam's name, he snapped to attention.  He watched his boss' face avidly, searching for some clue as to the situation, but Malone's face, as usual, was giving nothing away and listening to one side of the conversation was not particularly enlightening.  He almost ignored his own phone when it rang, terrified of missing something, but his training kicked in and the phone was up to his ear, his voice automatically spitting out, "Four five," before he was even aware of it.

The relief that flooded through him when he heard Sam's voice on the other end was better than any drug could be.  He sank back into his chair, no longer paying Malone any attention, just letting the sound of his lover's voice wash over him.  Sam.  Alive.  Safe.  Sam.

"Chris.  You still there, mate?"

He found his voice.  "Yeah.  You okay?"

"I'm fine.  Bit battered around the edges, but fine."  Another surge of relief, although he doubted he'd feel completely satisfied until he could see Sam with his own eyes.

"Where are you?"

"Tennessee, I think.  I wasn't in any position to pay too much attention.  Not much of a view of the scenery from the boot of a car.  Is Malone there?  We've got a problem..."

Chris glanced over at their boss again.  While Malone was still talking on his phone, his attention was now focused on Keel, as was Backup's he finally noticed.  He mouthed 'Sam' at both of them, before turning his attention back to his partner.

"Tell me," he said briskly.

He listened as his partner explained the problem in his normal, concise tones.  He had to fight back his temper with every word.  By the time Sam had finished summing up the situation Malone had finished his own call and was waiting less than patiently for an explanation, his sharp blue eyes fixed on his American agent.  It was probably only Malone's presence that prevented Keel from taking matters in his own hands.  It was still tempting though.

"Well?" demanded Malone impatiently.  "I take it that was Mr Curtis.  Did he have an explanation for what happened?"

"He was set-up," Chris spat out, his temper still simmering.  "Officer Robinson."

"Janice Robinson?" asked Backup, startled.  "Works for the Sheriff's office, sir," she explained at Malone's raised eyebrow.

"Set up how, Mr Keel?"

"Sam said she came out to the stakeout.  Said she had some information she wanted to share in the name of co-operation, and then pulled a gun on him."

"Very co-operative of her," commented Backup dryly.  "What is it about you two and corrupt cops?"

"Then Davies and his goons showed up..."  He didn't need to say any more.  The rest Backup and Malone could work out for themselves.  Right now the need to get to Sam as quickly as possible was warring with the need for retribution, and the need to do his job.  The job won out.  "Something's going down - something big, gotta be.  Why else would Robinson risk it?  Attacking a fellow law enforcement officer?"

"They wouldn't have been able to leave him alive," interjected Backup softly.  "Not and risk him turning Robinson in."

"It was a rather stupid move on her part," added Malone.  "Even if we hadn't located Mr Curtis when we did, sooner or later she'd have slipped up, not been where she was supposed to be, not had an alibi."  Chris disagreed.

"We'd no reason to suspect her," he argued a little heatedly.  "We would have thought that Sam got careless and..."  He couldn't put the 'and' into words.

"Maybe," agreed Malone.  "But I'd like to believe that we would have caught up with Davies and his mob sooner and later, and I somehow doubt there's any honour among those thieves."

"How did we catch up with them, sir?" asked Backup.

"Luck, Miss Backus.  Pure and simple."  Malone stood for a moment, deep in thought.  "Miss Backus," he said eventually, his voice brisk, "I'll leave you here to deal with Robinson.  I would ask the FBI for their assistance, since we are unsure as to the extent of corruption within the local police.  Mr Keel, you're with me."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"To Tennessee, Mr Keel.  We have an agent to collect after all."