"McCall, do you enjoy taking shots from the cheap seats?" demanded Control.

"I dare say I paid my dues for the right to criticize you and all the other company robots who plan missions and make policy without regard for anyone, so I resent the implication that I am taking a cheap shot," retorted McCall.

"Yes, yes, I know all about your trials and tribulations with the company and the fact that you consider me a soulless, heartless company automaton who recites the company manual, chapter and verse, by heart, as bedtime prayers.  But, can you ever hold your breath long enough to see the tightrope I have to walk each and every day of my life with the company, to do what I can to make things a little better and still get the job done?  Take the rose colored glasses off for a few seconds, and just try and walk in my shoes, and see if you can take it as well as give it!" shouted Control at the top of his voice.

"These glasses aren't rose colored.  They're red, stained by the blood of the men and women, and even children caught up in…"

The concussion of a shot, fired at close range, filled the room.  The grate in front of the fireplace danced a macabre dance as the burning logs inside exploded in a blazing display of embers.  The grate bravely contained the onslaught of sparks as both men dropped into a defensive crouch and reached for weapons not attached to their belts.

"What the…" said Control.

"Bloody hell…" put in McCall.

"Was that for?" they finished in unison, as their eyes focused on the petite figure standing in the doorway, facing them.

"Crude, I admit, but it had the benefit of getting your attention without having to raise my voice any louder to be heard over your bickering.  Ok, boys, the fight's over.  Mommy's home and she's very tired and cranky," Corrie replied.

"Tell us something new," McCall quipped.

Instantly, Control reached out his hand and laid it on McCall's shoulder.  "Careful, old son.  Need I remind you that she's still holding her weapon in her hand?"

A twisted smile formed on Corrie's face as she started walking towards the two men.

"To know me is to love me," she said, as in one motion, she swung the hobo bag off her shoulder, shoved her Glock into the special holster built inside the leather bag, and dropped the bag on a nearby chair.  She continued over to Control and wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling sweetly.

"Better?" she cooed.

"Better," Control replied.  "I didn't expect you until Friday," he added, as his arms encircled her and pulled her to him.

McCall turned his back on the couple as they exchanged a warm welcome home kiss.  Groaning out loud, he asked the fireplace, "Isn't this nauseating, newly-wed behavior ever going to end?"

"Never," answered Control, huskily.

 Corrie murmured in agreement then pulled herself reluctantly from her husband's embrace.  "Gosh guys, I hope I haven't interrupted any plans you two had to go bar trolling tonight?" she asked.

"Bar trolling?" McCall sputtered as he spun around to face his friends.  "Young woman…" he began indignantly as both Corrie and Control burst out laughing.

"Robert, when and where did you loose your sense of humor?" Corrie asked sweetly.

"Considering the mood he's been in lately, he'll probably blame the Company for that too," deadpanned Control.

"Funny, very funny.  It must be wonderful to be so in love that all you hear is 'Love in Bloom' playing softly in the background," McCall grumbled. 

"No, you have the wrong song," replied Corrie.  "Actually, it's 'Ah, Sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee!  Ah! I know at last the secret of it all'," she sang, horribly off key.

"Please, don't!" begged McCall.  "I can take your sarcasm, your insults, your insane idea of humor, but NOT your singing," he pleaded.  "Especially on an empty stomach!" he added, miserably.

"Oh, so that's it.  Low blood sugar can make any one grumpy," Corrie sympathized.  "Well, you are in luck, my dear friend.  As I wandered the dark city streets, trying to find my way home from my far flung travels, I happened upon a take-out restaurant…and no, it isn't Chinese, Thai or pizza.  Tonight, gentlemen, I have returned to hearth and home with a large variety of delicacies from Italian cuisine to ward off your impending starvation and emaciation. How does that sound to you?" she asked.

"Garlic bread?" asked McCall.

"Lots!" replied Corrie.

"And a good red wine?"

"Do you think we're barbarians?" asked Control, smiling.

A short time later, the three were sitting comfortably around the breakfast nook in the kitchen, feasting on the contents of Corrie's carry out sacks.  The delicious food, and an excellent wine, kept conversation to a minimum for some time. 

Finally, Control looked over the top of his wineglass and asked, smiling, "Corrie, what fortunate zephyr has brought you home to me a full two days early?"

Corrie swallowed the mouthful of lasagna she had been chewing and placed her fork deliberately next to her plate.  She then picked up her wineglass and took a thoughtful sip from it.  McCall and Control looked at each other, then turned back to Corrie, all of their senses on alert.

"Well, for one thing, I finished the job I had been summoned to Langley to do. Why they chose me for it, I still don't understand.  Any tech-grade dolt on staff there could have handled the work without having to fly me in and house me for three weeks," she said, with a confused smile on her face.

"Secondly, I had had enough of listening to Jason beat his chest and proclaim his superiority to one and all.  To hear him strut and crow, he's single-handedly contained the spread of evil throughout the world.  It amazes me that he's still on staff, and that anyone with an ounce of intelligence would take him seriously," Corrie sighed.

Then, looking straight into her husband's eyes, she said slowly, "And thirdly, I can't tell you for sure what, but something is going on down there, under the surface. I talked with Frank, my brother," Corrie explained to McCall, "and he agreed.  He said 'too many of the lions were lying down with the lambs'.  I wanted to get home and talk to you about it," she finished.

Control nodded his head and placed his hand on Corrie's arm.  "I've been getting the same warnings from my people at headquarters for some weeks now.  When you were called to head up that project, I seriously considered asking you not to take the job," he admitted.  "But, I knew if I had, you'd have charged on down there just to see what was going on," he finished with a chuckle.

"That's me," she laughed.  "Corrie blazes in where angels fear to tread.  So what's your take on all the mysterious goings-on?" she asked.

Control looked thoughtfully into his own wineglass for a moment before answering.  "From all indications, there is another power struggle going on behind the scenes for control of the agency.  Having spent most of your time with the Company in the field, you've missed out on this most unpleasant experience.  Every few years, the hot heads and more radical thinkers try to impose a new order and sweep out the conservatives and old timers in power."  He sighed and continued, "Things will probably get uglier for a while before leveler heads prevail.  At least, I hope leveler heads will prevail," he added quickly.

"Amen to that," McCall said.  "Do you know who is behind this new farce?" he asked Control.

"Pretty much," he answered.  "Jennings and Parmenter appear to be the main players.  And Jason is their number one stooge," he said turning to Corrie.  "My people at headquarters have told me to watch my back.  Jason has expressed an interest in my office."

Corrie choked on her wine and sputtered, coughing, trying to catch her breath.  Finally clearing her airway enough, with the aid of her husband's heavy thumping on her back, she said, amazed, "That putz can't even tie his shoes. What makes him think he can handle anything going on in this office?" she gasped.

"I don't know, but it's going to get very interesting around here.  My suggestion to you, my dear, is to go back to your office in the Comm Room, close the door, and bury yourself in your circuits and chips until the all clear siren is sounded.  And please, darling, promise me something?" he almost pleaded.

"If the promise involves leaving my gun at home and not inflicting physical harm on Jason if he crosses my path, forget it, dear.  When I promised to love, honor and obey you, I meant in our married, home life, not in our Company life," she finished with a hard look in her eyes.

McCall shook his head and said, "Old friend, having lived through my share of these Company forays into madness, I do sympathize with you.  Not only do you have your own skin to watch out for, but the health of the madmen as well.  Supreme patience is the one virtue that you need for these internal cat and mouse games and we all know the limits of Corrie's patience.  Is there any way you could pack her off to her parents for a while?" he asked.

"Just try it!" Corrie snapped.  "I'm not going anywhere!"

Sighing, Control said, "I know better than to try and pack you off some place.  It would take your entire family, my entire family, and way too much sedation to even attempt such an idea.  Just promise me that you will try, really try, to keep cool during all of this, no matter what is said about or done to me.  I promise you that I will keep you in the loop and let you know what I know.  Fair enough?" he asked.

"Fair enough, dear," Corrie responded, and leaned over and kissed him.

McCall groaned as the kiss lingered longer than he thought proper.  "Get a room, please!" he said, exasperated. 

"Excellent suggestion," Control responded.  "McCall, go home… Please," he added nicely.

Sighing, McCall got up and apologized.  "I hate to eat, drink, and run, but I know when to take a hint.  You will excuse me for not helping clean up?"

"No," replied Corrie, "especially since you're taking most of it with you."  While Robert attempted to half-heartedly refuse, Corrie repacked most of the leftovers into a sack and presented it to Robert.  "You must keep up your strength while you're out there in the evil world trying to equalize things for the down trodden," she said sincerely.

Control and Corrie then walked McCall to the front door.  Turning to face Corrie, McCall pointed his finger at her and said, "Now you, young lady, take my advice. Listen to your husband and do as he says.   All will be well if you follow his advice."

Corrie hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying, "Yes, Uncle Robert.  I promise to be good and listen to Daddy," in a very little girl voice.

Shaking his head, McCall then nodded to Control, "Good luck, old friend.  You'll need it.  And remember, we all warned you about marrying that woman," he said with a smile as he left.

Control saw to locking and securing the front door as Corrie returned to the kitchen to put the left over containers away.  Finishing quickly, she found her husband in the den, staring into the fireplace.

Walking up behind him, Corrie wrapped her arms around his waist and said, "KP all finished.  Food in the fridge and dishes stowed in the dishwasher.  Marvelous invention that thing. Glad you insisted on putting one in.  Leaves more time to…"

He turned abruptly in her embrace, entwined his arms around her hips, and pulled her to him, tightly.

Breathless from the physical electric shock she felt as he crushed her against him, she could only groan, "Oh, my."

"Do you have any idea how much I have missed you these past three weeks?" he asked, huskily, as he began to kiss every inch of her neck.

"If it's as much as I've missed you, I don't think we'll make it up to the bedroom, will we?" she whispered, as she stretched to get her share of his neck.

"Not likely," he replied, his voice muffled by her throat.  He pivoted her easily unto the nearby couch.  As he reached under her skirt and pulled her panty hose and panties down in one, swift tug, Corrie had already unbuckled his belt and fly button, and was working on his pants zipper. 

They came together in less than a heartbeat.  Groaning deeply from the pent up desire for each other, the climax came quickly, ferociously. 

Their lust spent for the moment, they remained on the couch, tangled happily together, whispering to each other the details of their time spent apart.  It wasn't very long, however, before each one, in their contentment, began caressing and kissing and biting the other.  This led to the removal of more clothes, more passionate kissing, caressing, and biting, and one more delirious orgasm.

They laid in an exhausted tangle for some time.  Finally, Control cleared his throat and said, "Come, woman.  We'd better head upstairs to bed before you freeze to death, naked, down here."

"Could never happen," Corrie answered, nuzzling his neck.  "Body friction would keep both of us toasty," she snickered.

They rose and began to pick up the discarded articles of their clothing.  As Control was turning off the lights in the room, Corrie asked, "Do you think Uncle Robert would ever sit so comfortably on this couch again, sipping brandy, if he knew what we just did?"

Laughing loudly, Control shook his head and said, "No!  Not a chance!  I'm sorry to say this, but I think 'Uncle Robert' needs to get laid.  It would do him a world of good and improve the myopic outlook on life that he's developed."

"We'll have to work on that," Corrie began to say.

"No, we won't!" Control replied, authoritatively.  "Robert is fully capable of attracting his own women, without any help from you, my dear.  I mean this.  Now come wife, to bed!" he commanded.

"Yes, master.  Yes, master," Corrie bowed, subserviently.

Arms entwined, they headed upstairs to their bedroom suite. 

Since inheriting the old townhouse from her Godmother, Corrie had happily begun a long-term project of redecorating and converting the structure to meet their requirements and individual tastes.  Their bedroom had been the first project on her list.  Combining two of the previous bedrooms into one spacious area, and enlarging the bathroom, had resulted in a suite they both were extremely pleased with. 

The kitchen, complete with new breakfast nook, had been the next project to be crossed off her list.  Presently on Corrie's drawing board was a den/office for Control with a computer area for her. 

Once upstairs, their original plan for quick showers before cuddling together was quickly derailed when Corrie pulled aside the shower curtain and joined him in his steamy enclave, under the guise of helping him wash his back.

Finally snuggled under the warm new comforter on their bed, Control sighed contentedly as he wrapped Corrie once again in his arms.  Mumbling into the top of her head, he said, "Woman, I had somehow managed to live the greater part of my adult life without assistance washing my back or participating in one of your all out games of 'wet washrag tag'… that is, until tonight!  I'd wondered why you had the entire bathroom tiled and a drain put in the floor but now I know.  You are insane!  And you keep changing the rules!"

"Of course I do, sweetheart… it makes it more interesting," laughed his wife, snuggling happily closer.

"Humpff!  I thought so.  I do believe I'm going to have to start doubling up on my morning vitamins if you intend to keep up this pace," he sighed sleepily.

"Double away, big boy," Corrie mumbled as they both fell happily asleep.

* * * * *

The clock radio woke Control at its usual pre-dawn hour.  Stretching, he observed the empty but rumpled spot in bed beside him, and he smiled at the mental picture of Corrie's whirlwind early morning routine, which was undoubtedly in progress.  He could feel the floorboards thumping underneath him from the bass sounds emitting from the kitchen radio and could also smell the wonderful aroma of Corrie's coffee filling the house.

Still smiling, he shrugged off the warmth of their bed and shuffled off to the bathroom to begin his morning ablutions.  On the sink counter, under the mirror, he saw Corrie's usual morning offering of a large thermos cup of hot coffee waiting for him.  As his eyes shed the last remnants of sleep, he had to stop and chuckle out loud at the sight of two multiple vitamins sitting next to the cup.

Thirty minutes later, Control descended the hall stairs, resplendent in one of the new suits so recently added to his wardrobe.  He had amazed Corrie, one day soon after their wedding, by easily agreeing to her suggestion that he think about purchasing a new suit for an upcoming company function.  Once the new garments were home and hanging in the closet next to his older suits, Control decided that it might have been longer than he had realized since he had updated his wardrobe. Using some of Corrie's color suggestions, he had then ordered six more suits, two dozen shirts and ties, some casual slacks and shirts, some jeans, and four sports jackets.  The next items on his mental shopping list were shoes and socks.

Hanging his vest and jacket on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, he headed down the hallway to the kitchen where classical music was thundering from the radio. He was just reaching the doorway as the Valkyrie rode off into the night and he stopped to watch his wife for a few seconds without being noticed.

Corrie was standing at the stove stirring a pot of cinnamon raison oatmeal.   The aroma made his stomach growl loudly with hunger.

"Are you going to stand in the doorway and gawk all morning, or do I get my good morning kiss?" Corrie asked, without turning around.

"I was rather thinking of standing here and gawking at your eclectic choice of attire," he replied, chuckling.

Corrie was obviously not dressed to go into the office early with him.  She had on her oldest, most favored T-shirt nightie, the one with Snoopy happy dancing on the front.  She rarely wore it now, as she feared the next circuit through the wash would reduce it to a pile of lint and fuzz. 

Over the gauze-thin nightie, Corrie wore an electric blue kimono, decorated with demented kabuki smiley faces.  Her old friends, the Matsue's, had given this favored item of clothing to her as a wedding present.

The most disturbing part of her morning attire, however, was on her feet.  Corrie had on a pair of bright lime green, overstuffed, plush house slippers, shaped in the form of some giant alien monster's feet.  These grotesque appendages had alarmingly gnarled toes, complete with electric purple toenail polish.  They, of course, had been a present from Mickey Kostmayer.

"I take it you won't be coming with me to the office this morning?" he asked, as he walked over to her.  Bending slightly, he bestowed her requested good morning kiss, and also reached over and turned down the volume on the radio as it began to thunder a rousing Sousa march tune.  He was quite sure the dishes in the cabinets were vibrating from the music.

"What makes you say that, dear?" she asked coyly.  "Didn't you see the memo about 'Dress Down Days'.

"Yes, I saw that one, but I must of missed the one about celebrating Halloween early," he laughed. 

"You want to eat this, or wear this?" Corrie asked, pulling the wooden spoon out of the pot of oatmeal with a smirk on her face in response to his remark.

"Ok, ok, I apologize," he said, as he stepped back from her.  "Oatmeal doesn't go with these pants," he explained.

"Dear heaven, help me," Corrie prayed out loud.  "I simply suggest he buy one new suit, that doesn't look like it's been slept in continuously since the sixties, and the beast turns into a clothes horse who is terrified of food stains.  What have I spawned?" she asked the kitchen ceiling.

"Your love and devotion has turned a world-weary curmudgeon into the happy and smiling man you see before you, who has decided to again take an interest in the world around him and how he appears in it.  Now, is it your plan to continue stirring that pot until I starve to death, or do I actually get to eat the breakfast you are making?" he asked her, as he reached for the coffee pot on the counter and poured himself a large mug of ambrosia.

"Sit, my master, and I shall ladle your morning portion of nourishment," she curtsied and waved him towards the breakfast nook.

As they settled in to eat together, Corrie explained her casual attire, "I thought I'd take the day off since I have some time accumulated.  There's a small mountain of mail I should go through.  Did you know the gas and the electric companies actually expect us to give them money to heat and brighten our domicile? Can you imagine that?" she asked with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Hmmm," Control replied as he ate.  "I've heard something about that.  I think they're called 'bills', and the companies involved can get quite cranky if they're not paid on time.  What other evil do you have planned?" he asked.

"Me?  Up to evil?  I resemble that remark," she said, indignantly.  "Well, if you insist on knowing my every move, my true mission today is…"

At that precise moment, the chimes on the front door sounded.

"…to answer the front door.  Expecting company this morning?" she asked, as she got up.

"No, unless it's one of my bevy of beauties, coming to bestow an early morning visit.  I didn't have time last night to warn them you came back early," he confessed as he scooped another spoonful of oatmeal.

"Ok, I'll get the door while you finish your last meal on earth, smart ass," she said as she walked out of the kitchen and turned down the hallway.

"Please close your kimono before you do," Control advised offhandedly as she disappeared.

"For you, anything," came Corrie's response.

Though hungry and not wanting the oatmeal to get cold, curiosity got the best of him and Control put his spoon down and followed in Corrie's footsteps.  It was too early for his driver, and he could think of no one that would dare bother them at this hour of the morning.  When he was halfway down the hall, he heard a wicked chuckle come from Corrie as she looked through the security notch in the door.

Unlocking the last bolt, Corrie swung the door open and, with a puzzled voice, greeted their unseen visitor saying, "Oh my, there appears to have been a major sewer disaster during the night!  There's an odious pile of shit on my doorstep!"

"Charming, as usual, Murchison," replied an all-too-familiar voice.

Control stopped just out of sight by the stairs to listen to the conversation without being seen.  The little voice inside him told him it would be best to let Corrie handle this visitor in her own way.

"Jason, you wouldn't know the true meaning of 'charming' if it walked up and spit the dictionary in your face.  What ill wind brings your unwanted, bloated carcass to my door at this hour before dawn?"

"I'm here to see Control," Jason answered curtly.  "Get him," he commanded as he attempted to step inside.

Control tensed as he watched Corrie shift her position in the doorway to block his entrance and raise her right arm from the folds of her kimono, leveling her Glock at Jason's heart.  No one spoke to Corrie in that tone of voice, especially unwanted, uninvited, early-morning visitors to her turf.

"Stop right where you are, Jason.  You have not been invited into this house, and, I might add, never will," Corrie said, seriously.  "Control is not here for you to see.  You may contact him at his office, during regular business hours, like normal people do.  Do you get my drift?" she finished.

"Oh yes, and what do you intend to do if I insist… shoot me?" asked their unwanted visitor, smirking.

Smiling wickedly, Corrie sing-songed, "'Oh officer, this horrible little man tried to break in to my home.  I was afraid for my life and my virtue so I pumped a full clip into him just to be sure he wouldn't hurt me," Corrie said.  Then, thinking a moment, "Well, a full clip might be considered over kill, but I'm sure I could get it to work," Corrie said, quite seriously.

Control chuckled softly to himself and leaned against the wall.  This might be the one time he would not scold his wife for her improper gun conduct.

"You'll never change, will you, Murchison?" asked Jason.  "You think you can get away with anything because you talk big?"

"Strange hearing those words from your lips, Jason.  If I remember correctly, you've been the one talking big and pulling shit, then running back to your protectors in the company to avoid getting your ass kicked by the people who see right through you.  And unlike you, I never say anything I don't mean, or intend to fulfill.  Now, I'm being as polite as I possibly can this early in the morning.  I'll say this only once: get off my doorstep; go away; and don't ever show your face at this door again.  Do I make myself clear?" Corrie asked, calmly.

"Very well, since you insist.  I just thought I'd save Control some time this morning… instead of him going all the way to the office and finding out he's due at a meeting in Langley at 10:00a.m," he said, smirking.

"Congratulations!  I see your handlers have given you a big promotion.  You've wiener'd your way up to errand boy, how nice," Corrie sneered. 

"As I said, charming, as always, Murchison.  Please give Control my regards," he said, turning from the door.  Then he stopped and turned halfway back to her and added, "Oh, by the way, nice slippers."

"Thanks," Corrie said, smiling evilly.  "I thought you might recognize them.  I skinned your mother."

Timing her action perfectly, Corrie slammed the hard wood door just as Jason's elbow was perfectly aligned to the door jam.  You could hear the sharp 'thwack' as wood hit bone.  "Have a nice day!" Corrie called out.

Turning from the door, Corrie came to a dead halt as she caught sight of her husband standing in the hallway, his hands on his hips.

Smiling weakly, she tried to hide her gun behind her back.  "Hi, honey.  Been there long?" she asked meekly.

"You… skinned… his… mother?" he asked, trying to control his voice.

"Umm, a bit over the top?" she asked.

"His mother?

"Have you ever met his mother?" she asked, defensively, wiggling her feet in a manner to make the slippers appear to be thumping its toes impatiently.

"Corrine…" he began.

"I don't care what you say next, I will not apologize to that…that… eecchh!  Can't make me…" Corrie mumbled to her slippers, defensively."  After a few seconds, Corrie looked up sheepishly at her husband and asked, "Still love me?"

Control held out his arms to his wife and she scampered into them.

He kissed the top of her head and tried to make his voice sound authoritative.  "As much as I enjoyed listening to that exchange, I would not antagonize the man, if I were you.  He can make it very unpleasant for you, or rather, his protectors can during the coming difficulties.  And, as much as I love you and have vowed to protect you, I soon may not be in any position to help you."

"Yes, dear, I know exactly how much you worry about your head-strong wife getting herself into trouble.  And I have already promised you that I will watch myself and behave as best I can… and you should know by now, this is as good as I get," Corrie laughed.

"Yes, I know the limits of your good conduct quite well," sighed her husband.  "It's just that I worry about you…"

"Like I worry about you?" Corrie countered.

"Yes, and no.  Corrie, I've been playing this game for a long time.  I know how to defend myself from their little machinations."

"Darling, when are you going to stop thinking of me as a naïve innocent?  Do you really think I don't know a few secrets of my own?" she asked.

"Is that so, woman?" Control asked, cocking his head to one side.

"I lie not, my strong and brave husband," said Corrie, raising her right hand as if taking an oath.  "Think about it, dear.  How else do you think I got through that little personnel review issue during the nightmare before Christmas?"

"Hmm, I've always wondered how you sailed through that ordeal unscratched." 

"Yes, it's sometimes not who you know, it's what you know about who…?  Whom…?  Anyway, let's go back to the kitchen to finish your breakfast and I'll make sure Michael has you booked on the next shuttle to Washington.  We wouldn't want you to be late for the opening act of the play, especially after such a nice, personal invitation," Corrie finished.

"All right," he sighed.  "I wonder if I have enough time accumulated to stay home and help you sort through that mail instead?" he asked with a wistful look on his face.

Corrie stopped and looked deeply into his eyes.  "Dear, you have enough time accumulated to spend the rest of your natural life at home clipping coupons to your heart's content.  That is, however, if you didn't go stark raving bonkers after the first five minutes. You're not trying to tell me something, are you?" she asked sincerely.

"You mean like I'm getting too old or too tired to play these stupid games anymore?" he asked, finishing her thoughts.  "No, my dear. I will admit that before you and your warped sense of fun came charging into my life, I was getting a little worn down by this sort of internal cloak and dagger farce. But now, I have sat and studied at the feet of the mistress of evil, and I have learned some interesting tricks that will boggle a few minds, especially when they come from me," he laughed.

Corrie laughed and kissed him gently on the lips.  "Now that's the man I love and married.  Smile, so they don't know what you're thinking, then slip the banana peels under their feet!"

"I, myself, prefer ball bearings," he replied, honestly.  "They have a more dramatic flare," he finished.

"I will surely burn in hell for turning you to the dark side," Corrie sighed.

"True, but we'll be there together.  Now let's get back to that oatmeal before it gets too cold to eat," laughed Control.  "And then you can explain to me how you know Jason's mother…and what her feet look like…"

* * * * *

It was sixteen long hours before Control returned to his doorstep.  The meeting at headquarters had totally fulfilled his expectations for comedic farce and droning proselytizing.  There were long speeches, which included the words 'excesses', 'questionable', 'unwarranted', 'watchdog', and 'oversight', all boiling down to the fateful words, 'there will be some changes and cutbacks implemented."

As Control gratefully closed the front door behind him, Corrie hurried from the living room and gave him a warm welcome home hug.

"Hail, my returning husband!  Was it bad?" she sympathized.

Sighing contentedly to be once again home with Corrie in his arms, Control chuckled, saying, "It wasn't all that bad… nothing I haven't heard before, that is.  I'm just grateful that I managed to get home in the same day as I left, for a change.  Tell me, oh miracle worker, how did you manage to have a staff car waiting for me when they have supposedly been cancelled as an unneeded excess for just about everyone below the Director?" he asked.

"I can not take credit for another man's sneakiness," confessed Corrie.  "It was Michael, the miracle man," smiled Corrie, nodding in the direction of the living room.  "Michael and a select group of department representatives are awaiting you by the fire to plot the counter-revolution," Corrie laughed.

"Counter-revolution?  That bad in the office today, huh?" Control asked.  "All right, onward and upward," Control sighed.

But before Corrie released him from her embrace, she asked, squinting into his eyes, "Before I feed you to the rebels, I need to make sure you have enough stamina for it.  Did you have anything to eat today… other than oatmeal?"

Control looked down into his wife's eyes and replied, "No, not a thing.  The cutbacks on frills, you know.  Fortunately for me, the oatmeal has stuck with me until I managed to return to hearth and home.  Would I be asking too much…"

Before he could finish, Corrie curtsied before him and said, "Your kitchen wench will happily prepare her lord and master a sandwich fit for a returning hero, complete with a pickle, some cherry tomatoes fresh from the vine, and a flagon of beer, if he so desires?"

"He so desires very much," smiled Control.

Corrie curtsied once again and turned and scampered down the hallway.  Control watched her as she went into the kitchen and smiled to himself.  At some point during the day, Corrie had changed into jeans and a camouflage patterned T-shirt with the words "HA! Now You Can't See Me" on it, but the monster slippers were still in place.  For just a fleeting second, he tried to imagine the stir he would cause if he borrowed those slippers and wore them to the office in the morning.  Or one better, wore them the next time he had dinner with Robert McCall!

He chuckle/snorted out loud, surprised by the mental picture he had summoned.  "Damn that woman!" he laughed.  But as he turned to walk into the living room and meet his aides, his steps were lighter, he had a smile on his face, and he was actually looking forward to the coming battle.

* * * * *

As Control entered the living room, the two men and four women present ceased their discussion and stood up respectfully.  Control recognized the group of junior members of his staff and waved them back into their seats as he chose a favored high backed chair with ottoman for himself.

"Thank you for coming here tonight," he said appreciatively, nodding to each one, "especially after what must have been a trying day at the office.  I see Corrie has seen to your well being," he added, noticing the empty plates and glasses and cups scattered about on tables.

"Yes, sir," said Michael, his secretary.  "Corrie has made sure that none of us have lacked for anything since we unceremoniously dropped in on her this evening.  I'm sure you must be wondering why none of your senior aides are present tonight," Michael said.

"Well, yes," answered Control.

"I was able to speak quietly with most of them during the day.  All agreed that Mr. Masur would more than likely have your house watched to see if any unusual activity took place.  Your aides coming and going would look very suspicious."

"Yes, excellent thinking," Control agreed.  "And since Corrie is well known for her after work coffee klatches, a get together with some of her friends from the office would be nothing new, especially if I was not in town."

"Yes sir," Michael answered.  "Your senior staff has put up the false façade of accepting Mr. Masur's arrival in the office this morning and are trying to appear to be falling in step with his new programs.  Behind his back, however, they have been taking precautions to make sure the more sensitive materials in the office do not land in his hands.  My usual early morning arrival prevented him from accessing your private files when he took possession of your office.  And when he left the office to get a cup of coffee from the cart…"  

"Michael, are you saying you didn't offer to bring him a cup of coffee, just like you do for me every morning?" asked Control, smiling.

Michael cleared his throat and said simply, "Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't have any arsenic on me or I would gladly have gotten it for him."

Control looked at his longest lasting secretary to date and asked, "Michael… humor?  You surprise me!"

At that moment, Corrie returned to the living room carrying a tray with the promised victuals for her husband and a fresh pot of coffee and plate of cookies for their guests.  Smiling at Michael, Corrie confessed, "Yes, dear, I have perverted yet another member of your staff and have turned your trusted Michael to the dark side.  He has earned his light saber and will be taking his show on the road to the Comedy Club next week."

Control laughed heartily, something his gathered staff members had never seen before.  Noticing the surprised looks on their faces, he said, "I apologize for shocking you with my uncharacteristic behavior. Under Corrie's persistent tutelage, I have found myself unwillingly enrolled in Humor 101.  Michael, please continue," he finished soberly.

"Yes, Sir.  Mr. Masur had ordered me to get some boxes and see that all of your personal items were packed up and removed to the closet he has chosen as your new office.  While I was rustling tissue paper in his face to wrap everything up, he decided to go get himself a cup of coffee.  We had Tonie West, one of the secretaries from Ops, waiting by the cart to engage him in conversation."

"Isn't she the tall, um… well built, dark haired secretary who asks everyone what their sign is?" asked Control trying to place the secretary in question.

Michael grinned, "Yes sir, that's her.  Mr. Masur was quite taken by her and Tonie made good use of her astrological knowledge, keeping him enthralled for some time."  Michael paused and smiled broadly at the mental picture of Jason Masur staring up at Tonie West's cleavage as she explained his astrological chart.  "I had more than enough time to access the secret drawer in your desk and remove the discs and files you kept there, as well as the files in the false bottom of your credenza," he finished.  "I packed everything under the items I was removing from the office at Masur's request and did a bit of slight of hand secreting them from the building.  Corrie has them securely hidden upstairs now."

"Very good work, Michael.  I assume you got the access codes to the files from Corrie?" Control asked, looking directly at his wife, who was now seated on the floor next to his chair.

Corrie looked innocently back at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, yes sir.  We felt it important to remove your files…" Michael began in his own defense.

"There's nothing to apologize for.  I'm very grateful that you were able to keep those files safe.  From the sound of it so far, it appears my staff has confirmed my trust and belief in them, and has kept Jason at bay while I was gone," Control answered honestly.

"Thank you, sir," answered the group as a whole.

"And now, as it's getting rather late, I think we should get to the mission at hand.  I've had a great deal of dead time today to think about what our course of action should be. What I would like you all to do is return to your respective departments tomorrow morning and advise your supervisors to continue to do business as usual, making it appear that you are falling in step with Mr. Masur's new office guidelines.  Below the surface, however, I would like to begin a coordinated effort to gather whatever information anyone has on Mr. Masur and the new regime in place in Langley.  If I may, to quote my wife," and Control looked at Corrie and smiled, "its not who you know, but what you know about 'who' that just may win this battle.  Everyone in the company, at some point, has seen or heard something.  What we need to do is pool our resources, no matter how trivial or insignificant it may appear, into a lever for action," Control said. 

"I will probably be the main focus of attention of Jason's spies within the office," Control continued. "We can use that to turn the tables, so to speak, on the watchers.  If they are kept busy watching me, they just may not be watching everyone else as closely.  Discretion is paramount.  Trust only those people you have complete faith in," Control advised.  "Once we see the lay of the land, so to speak, we will be better able to coordinate our efforts," he finished.

"And now," Control began, rising from his chair, "I believe it would be prudent for us to break up our little coffee klatch before the watchers get too curious.  Agreed?" he asked.

All agreed and, one by one, said their good-byes and followed Corrie into the hall to take possession of their jackets and belongings.  Control tapped Michael on the shoulder, pulling him aside for a private word.

"Jason will probably be watching your actions tomorrow very closely also."

"Yes sir, I would think so, to see what information, if any, I am passing on to you or for you."

"Agreed.  And I know that you can handle any situation that will come up.  You proved that today.   It won't be easy at times.  Jason will take every opportunity possible to denigrate or insult me.  I am giving Corrie this same warning.  Do not let him get under your skin, no matter what he does, do you understand me?" Control asked.

"Yes sir, I do.  Corrie told us that you have her on a short leash and on her best behavior.  Can I at least growl at him sometimes?" Michael asked sincerely.

Control laughed and put his hand on Michael's shoulder.  "Michael, it's bad enough that witch has corrupted me.  Now she has drawn you into her evil web as well."

"Yes sir.  But at least I'll go smiling," said Michael.

* * * * *

The next afternoon, the door to the Comm Room banged violently open and an enraged Control entered, shouting, "He bugged my office!  That son-of-a-bitch bugged my office!"

Three of the four people present scurried to the far end of the room.  Only Corrie remained seated at her desk, totally engrossed in the thick binder of schematics balanced precariously on her lap, a disemboweled CPU lying on her desktop.

"He bugged my office!" shouted Control once again as he came even with his wife's position.

Without taking her gaze from the place her finger was tracing through the complicated design of circuits, Corrie reached unseeing into a drawer with her other hand and threw an extremely large tactical folding knife onto her littered desktop.  Glancing briefly up at her husband, she said, "Remember, his heart is mine… that is, if he even has one."

Control carefully picked the knife up and pulled opened the finely honed blade.  "Could you please explain to me just how you managed to get this machete past security?" he asked calmly.

Corrie pushed the binder up in to the debris field on her desktop and placed a stray circuit chip in to position as a bookmark.  Standing, she smiled a Cheshire cat smile at her husband, took the knife and flip closed the blade.  Then, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse, Corrie immodestly tucked the knife into her bra, under her breasts.   With a wink, she daintily resettled her bra and blouse and sat down, returning the binder to her lap without saying a word.

Control shrugged his shoulders, turned, and headed for the door.

"Dear," Corrie called out absently, once more engrossed in her schematic.  "Please don't bang the door on your way out.  It upsets the circuitry."

* * * * *

"Congratulations, sweetheart" whispered Control, as he climbed into bed much later that night and kissed his wife on the cheek.

"Umm, thanks, I think.  What did I do right today to warrant such high praise from my beloved husband," asked Corrie, throwing aside the schematic she had been deeply contemplating as bedtime reading.

"You managed to make it through your first full day around Jason without disemboweling him," smiled Control.

"Thank you for noticing, darling.  However, I can not take all of the credit for this good conduct.  That little computer problem you asked about last night has kept my mind fully occupied all day.  As I explained to you, the impossible we do ordinarily.  Miracles take a little while to work out," Corrie acknowledged as she nuzzled in her husband's arms.

"So, did you manage to work it out?" asked Control.

"Almost," smiled Corrie, with a far away look in her eye.  "It might just work if… You know, of course, if I can pull this one off, I could rule the world!"

"Yes… yes, I do," replied Control, closing his eyes thoughtfully.  "I am just very grateful that you're on our side," he chuckled.

"Ah yes, but will he still respect me in the morning?" Corrie inquired.

"My darling, anyone who can corrupt a planted bug to feedback a continuous loop of a Wayland and Madame routine has my undying gratitude and respect.  The look on Jason's face…"

"…Had to be twice as twisted as yours when you first learned about the bug," finished Corrie.  "I only wish the office security cameras made color prints.  We could make a fortune selling copies through the company underground," snickered his wife.

"Yes, and we could then use the funds to pay for your legal defense if it should ever be learned that you are subverting a government network for sending and receiving secret communications," murmured a sleepy Control.

"Yes, treason is such an ugly word, but don't loose any sleep over it, dear," Corrie replied, kissing him on the nose.  "They have to trace it back to me first, and that ain't never gonna happen," she assured him.  "Mama didn't raise no stupid children," she finished, drifting off to sleep beside her husband.

* * * * *

 "McCall!" greeted Control, answering his door a few nights later. "What brings you here this time of night, old son?"

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything… or anyone?" asked McCall, looking around the hallway.

Control chuckled and tapped him on the arm, bidding McCall to follow him into the living room. 

"No… no.  As a matter of fact, Corrie isn't home right now.  We had barely finished dinner this evening when she received a phone call and ran out of the house babbling something about 'gargoyles'," replied Control.

"Gargoyles?  Dare I even ask?" inquired McCall.

"I didn't," answered Control honestly.  "There are times when a husband is better off not knowing."

As McCall took off his overcoat and made himself comfortable on the couch, Control poured a generous two fingers of scotch for each of them.  As he handed McCall his glass, he had a strange grin on his face.

"May I at least inquire as to what is so amusing?" asked McCall.

"It's nothing," replied Control.  "Just something Corrie said the other night about the couch.  So, what can I do for you?" asked Control, clearing his throat.

"Well, old friend, I may have been able to do something for you."

"Oh, do tell," smiled Control.

"I've just finished up that nasty little business for my client, the florist," began McCall.

"Ah, the dead drop misunderstanding?" inquired Control.

"Yes, that's the one.  And, as usual, I employed a few of our mutual friends to assist me in the investigation, much to the chagrin of Mr. MaSur. He actually had the gall to appear on my doorstep and threaten our associates with dismissal if they continued to work for me."

"Tch, tch," responded Control. "Did he intimidate anyone with his threats?"

"No, not really.  However, I had the opportunity to drop by the office tonight to have a few quiet words with Mr. Masur, on your behalf," continued McCall.

"Oh?" said Control raising an eyebrow.

"Yes.  Basically, I suggested that it would be in his best interests to cease his little power games against you.  You have too many friends in higher places than his," answered McCall.

"Ah," said Control, smiling knowingly.

"Yes, but why do I get the feeling you already know about this?" questioned McCall.

"I'm sorry, old friend, but nothing has happened in the office involving Jason Masur this past week that I don't know about."

"I know you believe you are omniscient, but…" laughed McCall.

"Yes, well, I also have one of the best coordinated underground resistance cells ever recruited in the history of the company," laughed Control.  "Jason hasn't spent a single moment unobserved or unreported to me since I returned from Langley.  I can even tell you what brand of toothpaste and deodorant he uses," chuckled Control.

"That's quite all right, some things should be 'need to know' only," dodged McCall, holding up his hand.  "I'm relieved to find that you still think this whole thing is so amusing," McCall started.  "However, isn't this situation a little more involved than just the antics of one smarmy individual?"

"Yes, yes it is… most definitely," replied Control, turning deadly serious.  "And you can rest assured that my people and I are working very hard on the problem.  I've hand picked most of the people in this office, but it has still amazed me by how quickly and easily they have solidified into such a cohesive guerilla unit," stated Control.  "McCall, you have no idea what is in the works.  It even boggles my mind that we are accomplishing what we are doing, in so short of a time, right under their noses."

"That sounds ominous, old friend.  Are you sure you're not working right into their hands?" asked McCall, just as deadly serious.

"No, I don't believe so.  There is no indication from any our sources at Langley that this is a set up.  Trust me, old son, we are all aware of how deadly serious this business is, and that what we are attempting could be construed as treason, but it needs to be done," Control answered.  "The saddest part about all of this is that, when it's over, my entire staff will probably earn promotion for their work and be transferred to other offices," finished Control.

"…If they're not all shot standing next to you by the firing squad," ended McCall.

Raising his glass in a toast, Control said, "From your lips to God's ears!"

* * * * *

Early the next morning, on his way downstairs to breakfast, Control found Mickey Kostmayer casually leaning against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

"Kostmayer," Control greeted him.

"Control," replied Mickey.

"Waiting for a bus?" inquired Control casually while hanging his jacket on the newel post knob.

"No, actually I'm on gargoyle detail this morning," returned Mickey, shifting slightly.

Holding up his hand to silence any further communication, Control said, "Fine, fine.  Just do whatever it is Corrie needs you to do.  When she reaches the point where she believes I need to know, I will be enlightened.  Until then, just carry on without giving me any of the unnecessary details.  Understand?" smiled Control as he headed down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Sure thing, boss.  When it comes to one of Corrie's little projects like this, it's always best to take things on a need to know basis," smiled Mickey.  "Enjoy breakfast.  It smells good, whatever it is."

"Thank you, Mr. Kostmayer.  I will," said Control as he turned into the kitchen doorway.

* * * * *

Several days later, there was a quiet tap on the door of Control's new cubbyhole cum office.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Michael.  What is it?"

"Sir, I think you'd better come."

Rising from his desk chair, Control asked,  "What's the matter?"

"It's Corrie and Jason, sir…"

Control made a low groaning noise and said, "Well, the truce couldn't last forever.  That would have been too much to ask.  How bad is it?" inquired Control as he hurried around his desk and followed Michael down the hall.

"No blood, as yet," replied Michael.  "However, one of Mr. Masur's personal security men may never have the opportunity to father children… of course, that is if the big ugly lump ever finds a blind woman who…"

"Michael, please, I would greatly appreciate it if you would just stick to the facts of the situation.  Having Jason in the office all this time has been bad enough.  Hearing how badly Corrie has corrupted you is almost too much.  Deal?" asked Control.

"Yes, sir.  Deal," replied Michael, hanging his head just enough to look contrite. 

"What started this round?" asked Control. 

"Corrie was sent to take a look at the computer in Mr. Masur's office.  He reported to Mr. Wainwright that it was malfunctioning, again.  Corrie did and informed Mr. Wainwright that there was nothing wrong with the unit, again.  She said it was operator incompetence… again."

"Diplomatic she's not…"

"Yes sir.  Mr. Masur took exception to that…"

"Wonder why…"

"And words began to fly…"

"That must be putting it mildly…"

"Mr. Masur accused Corrie of being a loose cannon…"

"No, not Corrie…!"

"Security was called in…"

"Couldn't handle his own fight, huh…"

"Mr. Wainwright tried to step in…"

"He'll learn…"

"Corrie kneed the security guard when he grabbed her by her arm…"

"Fool got what he asked for…"

"Mr. Masur was using Mr. Wainwright as a shield between himself and Corrie

"Figures…"

"While Mr. Wainwright was trying to hold Corrie back with one arm…"

"Anyone taking pictures?"

"Corrie is muttering in German…"

"Ah, that's not good.  She's at anger level 9 out of 10 when she starts talking in German…"

"So I thought I'd better come for you, sir…"

"Thank you Michael.  I understand the situation now.  I'll be taking my wife home early this afternoon and I probably won't be coming back today, either."

"Yes sir.  I totally understand.  Ah… and good luck, sir."

"Thank you, Michael.  I'll need all the luck I can get."

* * * * *

A short time later….

"Corrine!!!"

"You bellowed, my beloved?"

"Why are there six large, stone gargoyles standing in the foyer of our home, where I have just tripped over them, coming in the door?"

"They're probably resting after their long trip through afternoon mid-town traffic before they fly up to the roof."

"Woman… we need to talk…" Control replied, gritting his teeth.

"Would that be before or after we talk about that little fracas at the office this afternoon?" Corrie asked innocently.

Control sighed deeply, "I think I need a drink…"

"As you wish, dear.  I'll go start dinner.  Oh, it might behoove you to be careful going into the living room, though.  There may be some strays wandering around," Corrie warned.

"Exactly how many of these things did you buy?" Control asked warily.

"I decline to answer on the grounds…"

"Why do I even ask…?" he retorted, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Would you like me to bring you some aspirin?" Corrie asked nicely.

Mumbling as he walked away, Control replied, "Yes, please.  The entire bottle will do, thank you!"

* * * * *

Several nights later in a comfortable booth in a quiet corner of O'Phelan's, Robert McCall and Control are having a pleasant drink before dinner.

"How are you holding up, old friend, with Corrie banished to working the darkest hours of the day?" asked McCall.

"Believe it or not, old son, it's actually giving me some measure of peace of mind. Corrie is safely out of Jason's path for now.  I won't have to worry about him demanding her head on a pike outside the door as a warning to other malcontents, at least for three months," Control sighed.

"Three months?  What happens then?" asked his concerned friend.

"That's when her probation period is over and her 'case' is reviewed by Wainwright and Personnel.  If Jason had had his way, she would, at this very moment, be sitting in a small listening post somewhere in the heart of the Gobi desert, with only bread and water for rations," Control replied somberly.

"Ah, yes.  Kostmayer did tell me that she was being put on probation pending further action."

"Yes, Wainwright told Personnel that Jason was as much at fault over the incident as Corrie and that putting her on probation, out of Jason's sight, would follow proper office policies.  They agreed with him, much to Jason's outrage.  Personnel assured Jason that should Corrie commit one more breach of conduct, she will be banished to menial Company servitude in some dismal, back water outpost," said Control, smiling.

"Don't they understand that banishing her to the hinterlands would be a far more dangerous punishment than keeping her under close watch?" McCall asked.

"Oh, I know Wainwright does.  He has seen close up some of the things Corrie can do that defy all logic and even the textbook authorities.  He strongly believes Corrie should be teaching the covert communication and computer surveillance classes at Langely rather than taking them," laughed Control.

"Yes, that's our girl," laughed McCall as well.  "Tell me, old friend, have the mysterious goings on with the gargoyles been explained yet?"

"Ah, yes, the gargoyles," Control replied, a thoughtful look in his eyes.  "I made the mistake of actually asking Corrie, straight out, about them last night, before she left for work.  After a twenty minute techno-babble dissertation, it seems that the little fellows are a major element in Corrie's proposed new security net and communications portal for the house."

"Gargoyles?" McCall laughed.  "A bit medieval for anything high tech, aren't they?"

"Yes, yes, but after hearing Corrie's explanation for them, well…let's just say, they fit the bill," Control smiled.  "Do you remember your mythology, old son?"

"Yes, I remember a great deal of it," replied McCall, "however, to my recollection, gargoyles were simply intended to be decorative down spouts.  Would you care to enlighten me on their alternative meaning?" he asked.

Control chuckled, and said, "As you wish, but remember, you asked." 

After taking a sip of his scotch, Control began, "According to my expert, the gargoyle den mother, they were the medieval answer to the fears and superstitions of the time. The fair citizens back then not only had the Black Plague to worry about, but also marauding hordes out to pillage and plunder, and, on the darker side, evil spirits and demons content only on devouring a person's soul.  The gargoyles were created as the first line of defense, the first superheroes, so to speak.  They were charged with protecting and defending property and the inhabitants within.  Some myths go so far as to say that the gargoyles came alive in the dark of night to fly around and root out any possible evil approaching their turf, returning before dawn to their perches," Control finished, smiling.

"Ah, and in Corrie's bizarre world, they would be the atypical necessity for guarding your home," laughed McCall heartily.

"Yes, very true.  However, in Corrie's world, the gargoyles have secret recesses built inside them to hide the high tech gadgets she has conjured up for our security blanket," smiled the proud husband of the eccentric inventor.  "And, as providence provides, she now has all the day time hours she could ask for to oversee their installation around our castle," Control added with a wink.

"You believe Corrie planned that little dust-up with Jason in order to be banished to late nights?"

Control shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  "We're talking about Corrie, mistress of evil and purveyor of amazing miracles.  You know how punctilious she is.  She could never sit idly by at the office and let someone else install her brainchild.  I would say that she took advantage of the opportunity Jason presented her with."

McCall nodded, thoughtfully.  "Yes, as I've said, that's our girl."  Raising his glass, he said, "To Corrie, mistress of dark forces and high tech gargoyles.  May we always work for the same side!"

"Amen," replied Control, sincerely.

* * * * *

Returning to his quiet home later that night, Control found a note from Corrie stuck to the hall mirror.  The cryptic message read, "The boys have a bed time story for you to read.  Love, Me."

He set his briefcase on the floor and bent down to address the two silent figures flanking the hall table. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but your mistress requires that I disturb your rest," Control muttered as he turned the heavy stone gargoyles to access their inner recesses.  There was, however, nothing concealed within them.

"Okay, I knew it couldn't be that easy," Control told himself as he turned and walked over to the pair of creatures standing at the base of the stairs.  "Let's have it, boys.  I'm tired and I want to go to bed," he addressed them as he repeated his search technique.  Nothing!

Sighing, Control walked upstairs and repeated his search on the pair of fiends standing at the top of the stairs, with the same results.

Walking down the hall to their bedroom door, he patted the heads of the two gargoyles standing guard outside. 

"All right boys, please tell me I've finished with my treasure hunt?" he asked out loud.  Unfortunately, their secret compartments were as empty as the others were.  Groaning loudly, Control muttered, "How the hell am I to read a bed time story if I can't find the story?" 

Scratching his head in disgust, he entered the bedroom and turned on the lights.  There, beside the fireplace, stood two more gargoyles.  He had not seen these two before.  Both of the creatures sported demonic smiles on their faces.

"It figures," he sighed as he found a small portfolio of papers tucked in the inner sanctum of one of the beasts.  "But if you two think I'm going to read this out loud to you, you're both very mistaken," Control addressed them.  "I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee and find a place in this house where stone eyes are not staring at me!"

Returning downstairs and to the kitchen, Control was relieved to find the expected thermos pot of fresh coffee on the counter.   The two small gargoyles sitting on the windowsill above the counter, their feet?…claws?…dangling down, did not amuse him, however.  He was quite sure they were laughing at him.  Turning to leave the kitchen, he was stopped abruptly by the sight of two medium size creatures occupying seats in the breakfast nook.

"Woman!  How many of these…THINGS are there?" he asked the air above his head. 

Retreating down the hallway to the living room, he cautiously flipped on the light switch.  Two more of Corrie's demon pets were standing guard on either side of the dormant fireplace, with two small creature sitting above on the fireplace lentil.  A pair of their brothers sat on the credenza by the window, appearing to be inspecting the outside yard.  Just as he was reaching to turn off the lights, a scene being played out by his chair and ottoman caught his eye.  Curled up on the floor next to the ottoman, lay two more of the stone visages, as if asleep at their master's feet. 

Muttering to himself as he returned to the bedroom, Control threw the portfolio on the bed and opened the thermos pitcher of coffee.  Aspirin, he desperately needed aspirin!  Taking the pitcher with him, he strode into the bathroom in search of aspirin.  Solace was not to be found in that room either.  Standing at the foot of the bathtub were two more of the damned creatures, both appearing to be looking down at something in the bathtub.  Closing his eyes, Control took two cautious steps closer to the tub.  Reluctantly opening his eyes, he beheld the ludicrous sight of two more of the silly creatures lying on their backs in the bathtub.  They appeared to be floating serenely on invisible water, their hands?…claws?…whatever!…comfortably supporting their heads.

Grabbing the bottle of aspirin as he fled the room, he strode determinedly over to the telephone and punched a speed dial number.

"Comm Room," answered a friendly voice.

"I… want… Murchison!" he growled through clenched teeth.

There was a short yelp and the sound of the receiver being dropped.  Control smiled to himself.  "Good," he muttered to himself.  "Someone knows I mean business."

There was a rustle and knocking as the receiver was picked up and a perky voice answered, "Murchison."

"Woman!  Were you bit by a gargoyle as a child?" Control bellowed into the phone.

"Ah, my darling, it is you," came her giggling reply.

"The breakfast nook?" he yelled.

"Sweetheart, are you not finding the humor…"

"The bathtub?  How am I to take a shower in the morning?" he questioned loudly.

"Now, dear, you said yourself I had to get the boys out of the middle of the hallway until we had all of the wiring and setup complete…"

"Yes," growled her husband, fiercely.  "However, I did not mean for them to become household furnishings!  And just how many of these creatures are there.  I've already counted 26!" he finished, still fuming.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart.  I guess my sick sense of humor has gotten a little…"

"A little?" he yelled.

"…carried away with the project.  I'll move the children out of your way when I get home, if that is your wish?" Corrie said soothingly.

"Please do," Control said firmly.  "Find a storage facility or other someplace and put them away until you are ready to install them," he growled.

"A storage facility?" Corrie asked, appalled.  "Well, okay, if that's what you really want," she said, half-heatedly.  "But honey, do me a favor for tonight?" she asked sweetly.

""What?" Control replied his guard up.

"Don't go into the spare bedrooms… or the dining room… or down in the basement, or the garage," Corrie said softly.  "You'll only make yourself angrier."

"Is the bed safe?" asked her husband, clenching his teeth again.

"Oh yeah, sure.  No problem with the bed!  The nightstand on my side might cause some concern, but the actual bed is safe.  Try and get some sleep, dear, and I promise to corral my boys when I get home.  If you wish, I'll leave a little early so as to clear the bathroom before your morning rituals…?" Corrie hinted.

"Yes, please do that.  I prefer to shower alone in the mornings, if you don't mind?" Control said, sarcastically.

"Your wish is…"

"Don't give me that, Murchison," he snarled.  "You are enjoying every twisted minute of this."

"To know me is to love me!" Corrie giggled happily.

"Rest assured, woman, I will find somehow, someway, to get even.  I promise!" he hissed into the phone.

"Sleep sweetly, darling.  My creatures will watch over thee," Corrie giggled again, and hung up the phone.

* * * * *

When the clock radio awoke Control the next morning, he did not greet the day in his usual optimistic manner.  As a matter of fact, he had to consciously talk himself into getting up and facing the day.  He had slept poorly; his sleep constantly being interrupted by visions of gargoyles for some reason, and he knew he needed all of his faculties today to digest the information Corrie had left for him last night.  Coded reports had begun flooding in from all over  the world in answer to the call for help.  

Finally, knowing that he could not put off the inevitable, he threw off the blankets and headed for the bathroom.  He hesitated slightly before turning on the light, to prepare for the sight of the bathing gargoyles, but was pleasantly surprised to see that they had vanished in the night.  In their place, however, Corrie was sitting naked in the tub, immersed in steaming hot water.  She had a gargoyle puppet on one hand, and the gargoyle was making a 'come hither' gesture to him.

He slowly walked over and sat down on the side of the bathtub.  With an evil grin on his face, he began idly flicking water at the puppet with his fingers.

"Thank you, dear," Control said as he bent over slightly to give Corrie a kiss.

"For you, anything," she whispered back.  "I am truly sorry, sweetheart, if my little friends have been bugging you.  I promise to keep them out of your way from now on," Corrie apologized as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again. 

"I appreciate that," Control smiled and kissed her again.  "Jason's visage is disturbing enough without coming home and finding leering monsters all over the house."

"What about a leering wife?" Corrie whispered as she began to pull him down into the steaming water, pajamas and all.

"It would depend on what she had in mind," Control answered as his hands reached for her breasts floating before him. 

Once fully in the tub alongside Corrie, Control took the fiendish puppet off her hand and threw it into the clothes hamper across the room.  "Sorry, my friend," Control muttered huskily, "but she's all mine."

* * * * *

The following ten days flew by in a whirlwind of covert activity for Control and his underground staff.  This particular morning, finally, he sat quietly in his chair, behind his old desk, in the darkened office, waiting patiently. 

"The call you've been waiting for is on line one," said Michael, walking into the room.

Control punched the appropriate button on the console and softly said, "Control," then listened quietly.  After a brief second, he replaced the receiver in its cradle.  Looking up at Michael, Control nodded his head and said simply, "Excelsior."

Michael smiled and left the room.  Returning about five minutes later, he informed Control, "Everyone here has been alerted.  And I've brought you a cup of coffee and some of the oatmeal raisin cookies Corrie brought in last night," as he placed a coaster on the desk.  "Would you like anything else while you're waiting for Mr. Masur?" he asked.

"No, thank you Michael.  I'm just going to sit and enjoy the quiet before the storm," Control replied.

"Do you think he's going to try and go out fighting?" Michael asked.

"No, I don't believe he'll put up a fight," Control replied easily.  "He's in no position to argue.  He has no one left to turn to now.  I'm referring to the avalanche of meetings and paperwork that is about to bury all of us now that this farce is over," he sighed.  "You know the Company, new brooms and a lot of sweeping.  Are you up to the challenge?" he asked sincerely.

Michael smiled.  "Sir, I've been your secretary for some time now.  I don't think anything can frighten me anymore."

Control smiled and shook his head.  "Yes, you've weathered more than a few epic storms while on board this ship.  And I want you to know I appreciate everything you have done.  Hopefully, when this is all settled, we'll both get some time off for good behavior," he laughed.

"Yes sir, I hope so," Michael laughed with him.  "I could use some time in a warm, sunny place that has no telephones or fax machines, at least for a little while," he smiled.  "I'll be just outside if you need anything else," he finished.

"Thank you, Michael," Control said as he sipped his coffee and waited patiently for the last scene of the play to begin.

Twenty minutes later, an unsuspecting Jason Masur walked into the darkened office and stopped abruptly upon seeing a shadowy figure sitting behind the desk. 

"I believe that's my chair you're sitting in, behind my desk," he postured as he reached for the light switch. 

As the lights in the room came up, a slight smile formed on Control's lips. "If I remember my childhood arguments with my brother correctly, isn't possession nine-tenths of the law?" Control said softly, his eyes hooded by his brows and his hands folded on his lap.

Jason walked closer to the desk and placed his briefcase on top of the shiny wood surface.  He appeared to puff himself up a little and then said with a sneer, "This isn't a childhood squabble over some marbles.  That woman has obviously deluded you…"

Control lunged forward in the chair and his hands struck the top of the desk like a crack of thunder.  "Be careful what you say next, Mr. Masur.  I remind you, Corrie is my wife!" Control whispered ominously.

Jason took two steps back from the desk and held his hands up as in a surrendering posture.  "Whatever," he said awkwardly, humoring him.

Control leaned back in the chair again and returned his hands to his lap.  "Sit down," he said simply.

Jason looked around the room as if trying to find a chair.  "Funny, that's what I generally tell people who come in this office.  How is it that…"

"I… said… sit!" Control whispered menacingly.

Jason again raised his hands as if in surrender and sat down in the nearest chair.  He sat quietly with a condescending smile on his face, as if he were amusing a mad person.  He sat and waited patiently for Control to say something. And he waited. 

Control was enjoying himself now.  He watched Jason fidget awkwardly in his chair, the smarmy smile glued to his face, and he waited still more, just to prolong the man's irritation and annoyance.

Unable to put up with the silence any longer, Jason began, "I'm not sure what kind of game you're playing here, but…"

"I assure you, this is no game," Control said evenly.

"Really?  Then why don't you just come out and say what it is that's on your mind so that we can end this infantile standoff," Jason sneered.

"As you like," Control smiled.  "At precisely 7:30a.m. Eastern Standard Time today, agents of the U.S. Marshall's Office, the FBI, and the NSA apprehended Messieurs Jennings and Parmenter at their homes and took them into custody," Control said bluntly. 

Stunned by the words, Jason's mouth opened and closed several times before he could barely ask, "Why?"

"Well," Control said slowly, "there appears to be reason to believe the these two gentlemen have gone rogue.  Besides amassing large amounts of unexplainable money in off shore banks and Swiss accounts," Control continued, "there appears to be a history of friendship with men of dubious character.  You wouldn't know about some of these friendships, now, would you?" Control asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason sputtered.  "Dubious friendships?  What does that mean?  This is a sham…"

"No, I assure you, it is not a sham," Control said quietly.  "It is really amazing how much documentation has come to light; documentation that is very, very incriminating to say the least.  Jennings and Parmenter appear to have had ties to some of the most notorious criminal organizations on three continents; most of which were under the disguise of family or old neighborhood friends, " Control finished.

"I… I had no idea… no knowledge of… any of this," Jason babbled. 

"No, well, we'll see about that," Control said softly. 

"I have nothing to do with…"

"Please, don't upset yourself over their problems, Jason.  You have much bigger things to worry about, I'm afraid," Control said soothingly.

"Bigger things?  What are you talking about?" stammered Jason, sweat glistening on his brow.

"Among other things, the same agencies currently entertaining Mr. Jennings and Mr. Parmenter are very interested in asking you about the little business venture your mother runs outside of Las Vegas," Control smiled. 

"My mother runs a retirement home for senior citizens," Jason said huffily.

"Oh?" Control asked.  "I've never heard of a retirement home that has slot machines and roulette tables before.  And I believe there was some mention of drug activity and prostitution being involved in the operation also," Control added.

"My mother… ah… but, I have nothing to do with her business," Jason said defensively.

"No?" Control asked.  "Then would you like to explain why the property records show a joint ownership?  And a multitude of small, joint bank accounts?  Trying to avoid inheritance taxes, are we?" Control asked, smiling. 

"There's nothing wrong with that…" Jason yelped.

"No, but if the monies were tainted fruit…" Control smiled

Jason groaned deeply and appeared to collapse inside himself for several seconds.  Then, sitting straight up, he looked defiantly at Control.  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused Control.  "You and that woman, Murchison.  You've been waiting and hoping to find something you could dirty me with, haven't you?" he spat.

Control sat quietly in the chair, not rising to the accusations.  He smiled faintly at the man opposite the desk and said, "I never enjoy seeming a member of the Company discredited, ever.  No matter who they are.  It puts all of the good people, men and women who put their lives on the line every day, in a bad light.  As for Corrie, well, her philosophy has always been, 'what goes around, comes around'.  Now, in your case, it has come around full circle," Control whispered.  "And those of us who remain, will have to clean up after you and Jennings, and Parmenter, and prove to their government and their friends that they are not tainted as well," Control finished, sadly.

At the moment, Michael knocked on the door frame and said apologetically, "Sir, the security men are here to escort Mr. Masur to the airport and to Washington."

"Thank you, Michael.  Mr. Masur is ready to go with them," he said. 

Standing up, Control walked around the desk and over to a credenza in the corner of the room.  He picked up a box that had been sitting there and took it over to Jason.  Handing it to him, Control said simply, "A little something to remember me by."

Jason took the box without saying a word.  Dazed by all that had just happened, he turned and let the two security men frisk him for weapons or contraband and lead him away. 

* * * * *

A short time later, Jason was sitting meekly between the two beefy security guards in the back of a company limousine in route to the airport.  He was still holding the box Control had handed him as he had left the office.

"Do you gentlemen have any objection to my opening this now?" he asked, just to be safe.

Receiving a grunted agreement from the men, Jason pulled off the loosely fitting tape securing the lid and opened the four flaps of the cover.  Inside of a nest of tissue paper stood two small stone creatures leering up at him with demonic smiles.

'Gargoyles?' he thought to himself, confused.

Jason realized that the two security men were trying futilely to suppress their laughter.  He looked closer at the two little figures in the tissue paper.  The middle fingers of each of their little hands were held in an upright, straight position. 

* * * * *

"There, all finished!" exclaimed Corrie, as she placed a fresh cup of coffee on his desktop coaster.  "All of your files, and miscellaneous accoutrements, are now safely returned to their appropriate stations from the cubbyhole of exile," she laughed.  "Give me a few more minutes, and I'll have the last of Jason's foul stench totally removed from your office," Corrie said as she grabbed a dust cloth and attacked some miscreant dust on one of the nearby chairs.

"Thank you, honey, I appreciate all of you help," replied Control, replacing some files in one of his secret drawers.

"No problem.  For you, anything," came Corrie's laughing reply.

"Is that so…" Control whispered softly, a devious concentration taking over his features.  He stood up and walked quietly around his desk.  Taking hold of Corrie's elbow, he led her from the office and came to a halt beside his secretary's desk.  "Ah, dear, there's one more thing," he said softly.

"Yes, my master, you have another task for me?" Corrie asked, swishing the dust cloth she still held across the desk surface absently.

"Have I mentioned that I've given Michael some time off, in appreciation for all that he's done these past months?" asked the now smirking Control.

"Yes, you did tell me that tidbit of information.  That's why most of the secretarial pool ran out of the building this morning as if a horde of demons were chasing them," Corrie laughed. "Have you selected your poor victim yet?" she laughed, continuing to dust the desk.

Control did not answer.  He simply smiled.

When he did not reply, Corrie turned and saw the fiendishly evil look on her husband's face.  She attempted to step back, away from the desk and her leering husband, but Control had taken a firm hold on her arm.

"No!  No, no, no, no, no!" Corrie yelled.  "No way, Jose!  There is NO power in this here world that can make me fill in as your secretary until Michael decides to come back from wherever he went!  NO… Stop grinning at me like that!  I won't… can't make me!" she insisted obstinately, trying futilely to pull her arm away.

"What about your grandmother?" Control whispered with a menacing edge to his voice.

"Granny?  What has Granny got to do with this?" Corrie asked defiantly.

"You would do anything to avoid having Granny on your case, wouldn't you?" he said softly, leaning down to make sure she could hear every word.

"Yeah, sure, you know damn well…"

"And it would be most unfortunate if Granny should learn that you actually gave your mother Corrine's butterfly brooch and that it wasn't a bequest as you said, wouldn't it?" he whispered with an evil smirk on his face.

"You wouldn't…" Corrie gasped, the blood draining from her face.  She felt as if she had been punched in the chest and her knees were getting weaker by the second.  "You wouldn't… you couldn't… And besides, Granny would be just as pissed with you because you backed me up" she finished desperately.

"I am sure that if I explained to Granny that you coerced me…."

"What?"

"By threatening to withhold from me my rights as a husband…"

"Oh pullleeesse!"

"She would be sympathetic rather than retaliatory with me…"

"You wouldn't…" Corrie whispered weakly, feeling her world spinning out of its orbit.  Her mind flashed to the first time Control and Granny met; she remembered Granny's reaction to the passionate 'thank you' kiss Control had bestowed on her; and she remembered Granny's unprecedented preferential treatment of him since that day.  Corrie had the distinct feeling she would be sick.  "You wouldn't…?" she said again, almost pleading.

Control did not answer immediately.  He released Corrie's arm and walked over to the desk chair and pulled it away from the desk, invitingly.  "Try… me…" Control whispered ominously.

Corrie stared at the chair for a moment and then looked up into her husband's hard set eyes.  A low moan shook it's way from her body and she flopped weakly into the proffered chair.

As Control gently pushed the chair towards the desk, he bent slightly and whispered softly in Corrie's ear, "And sometimes, my dear, it is who you know and what you know…"

Control turned and started walking back into his office, a beautific smile brightening his features. As he walked, he began to sing quietly to himself, "Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life at last I've found thee! Ah, at last I know the secret of it all!" in counterpoint to the slow thumping of Corrie's forehead on the hard wood surface of the desk.