The early morning sunlight was just beginning to creep over the horizon as Control walked down the deserted corridor towards his office.  After seven weeks on the road in Pakistan and Afghanistan, he was bone weary.  All he wanted was a good strong cup of coffee and to get his action report finished so he could go home to his seldom used apartment, stand in a hot shower for as long as it took, and sleep in a bed with clean sheets.  That's all. 

His hopes were dashed as he turned into his office and saw his secretary, Michael, standing with his arms crossed, clinically watching the three people in the room with him.  Two of them, a tall, intense man, obviously from security, and a woman he recognized from the communications section, were standing nervously next to a cart loaded with computer components.  The third person, a woman judging by her clothing, was sitting on the floor, the upper half of her body hidden under the computer arm of his desk. 

Upon seeing the unhappy scowl on Controls face, Michael said briskly, "Good morning, sir!  The new system is almost finished being installed.  We had hoped to have it done before you got back." 

The other two standing figures mumbled an embarrassed, "Good Morning, Sir," the looks on their faces indicating they would much prefer being in a lions' den at feeding time rather than there in Control's office with him present. 

The third figure, without looking up, said in a muffled voice, "About time you got back.  Enjoy your R & R?" 

Stunned by the comment, Control strode around the desk to get a better look at the insubordinate subordinate whom he would very soon see demoted back to janitor, when he stopped in his tracks.  "Corrie?  What what the hell are you doing here?" he barked. 

Turning slightly from her scrutiny of the computer, she nodded towards the leather desk chair standing next to her, and said, "I am fulfilling my life-long desire to sit at your feet and bask in the radiance of your wisdom and knowledge."

The tension in the room could be measured on the Richter scale as Control stood still, hands on his hips and stared at the woman.  "Am I ever going to get a straight answer from you?" he said in a barely controlled, measured voice. 

Again, without even looking his way, the woman replied, "No, and isn't it about time you gave up expecting one?" 

The stunned on-lookers held their collective breaths as Control pulled the leather chair around.  To their astonishment, the man known up and down the Company corridors as someone you did not want to make angry simply sat down in his chair and glared at the back of the woman's head.

Two seconds later, the computer beeped and the woman turned slightly towards him.  "Okay, it appears the download is complete.  Why don't you do that voodoo you do to logon to this puppy and make sure we have everything?"  Scooting out of the way, she extended the keyboard table out for his use.  Without a word, he typed in his name and passwords.  She busied herself with disconnecting a cable connecting the old main drive to the new. When he nodded that all appeared intact, she inserted a kill disc in the outgoing computer drive, dismantled it and dropped it in a special bag being held nervously by the wide-eyed security man.  Taking a role of duct tape from the cart, she expertly wrapped the bag into a tight package, ripped the tape, and handed it to the still silent Control.  "Now I need your autograph, as senior person present, according to approved Company procedures, to verify that approved Company procedures have been followed, before witnesses and God."  The quiet, seated figure scribbled his name on the tape joints and handed the package back.  She passed it to the security man and quipped, "Another addition to the Well of Lost Souls."  Turning to the other woman, she said, "It's almost Magic Time, Barb.  You and Stan can take this stuff back to the parts room and get going.  I still have to put the sides on the new unit, hook up the printer, and make sure all the "T's" are crossed and "I's" dotted.  You don't need to hang around for that." 

Relieved to be excused, the two grabbed the handle of the equipment cart and fled from the office.  Michael, who had slipped from the room unobserved a few minutes before, returned with a cup of strong, black coffee, a chocolate doughnut, and a stack of phone messages larger than the city white pages.  Placing them on the desk in front of Control, he retreated towards the door saying, "I'll be right outside if you need me, Sir, or if you want me to call the paramedics."  Receiving no reply, he silently and gently closed the door.

The woman had dropped to the floor again and was replacing the sides on the new computer.  Turning his chair to face her back, he cleared his throat and said, "Well?"   

Without looking up, Corrie replied, "I need to be in New York for a few months." 

After waiting patiently but futilely for her to continue, Control sighed and said, "Do I have to pull every sentence out of you by force?" 

Turning slightly towards him, Corrie locked her gaze on his hooded eyes and replied in a deliberate voice, "You can try!"

After five, month-long seconds, Control reached for the cup on his desk and took a long gulp of the dark liquid without breaking eye contact with the woman staring him down.  Softly, he said, "Corrie, I'm tired.  Im not in the mood..." 

Nodding, the woman pivoted fully to face him, reaching out her hand to place it lightly on his knee.  "I'm sorry.  I know it was bad.   Before I left Berlin, a few of your reports crossed my desk."   They sat in silence for a few seconds, the man gently stroking her hand with his fingertips.  "My godmother is dying," she finally began. "The quacks have given her 3 to 6 months, if you care to believe them.  Her husband, John, died 2 years ago. As you remember, they had no children.  His nephews have been circling like vultures ever since then, waiting to get their hands on their uncle's money.  She's a good woman.  She doesn't deserve to spend the last few months of her life fending off jackals.  So, here I am.  I tried to get a message to you, to fore-warn you, but short of sky writing..." she trailed off.   She stood quickly and walked around to the back of the chair.  Her hands gently touched his strong shoulders and began to massage the tired muscles in his neck and back.  "And deep inside, you know full well that I am totally incapable of showing any respect for your lofty position in the Company, especially in front of other people in the Company.  Hold still!  The knots in your neck are tight enough to secure the QE2 to a dock."  After a few seconds Control exhaled and let her soothing fingers work out the tension knots he had collected over the past few weeks.

Brushing his stubbled cheek against her hand, he said,   "I understand how you feel about Corrine.  And I know you can handle any quacks and vultures foolish enough to cross your path.  But this is not the best of time to be anywhere near me.  If anyone got the idea that we..." 

She laughed softly and replied, "As far as 'anyone' is concerned, they truly believe I hate your guts."  

Smiling, he replied, "Yes, you do make it look genuine enough.  Sometimes I wonder if..." She pinched down on his shoulder before he could finish, making him twitch forward.  "Seriously," he started again, "anyone around me could be in danger, and I couldn't bear seeing you hurt again because of me."   

She rumpled his hair and said, "Oh stop already!  We've been through all this before.  You know my feelings.  And you know I don't frighten easily."  With a wicked grin spreading across her lips she added, "I've seen YOU naked!"

Grabbing her hand he pulled her around the chair and gently tugged her down on to his lap.  Curling up in his strong arms, she nestled her cheek against his chest.  They sat quietly, two people content in each other's presence, listening to their combined heartbeats and breathing.  Not enough time later, a soft tap was heard at the door.  Corrie sat up, gently grazed his cheek with her lips and slid off his lap on to the floor and returned to her computer parts.  "Come!" he barked. 

Michael slowly opened the door and peeked in.  "Sorry for intruding, but this message just came."  As he handed a slip of paper across the desk, he glanced quickly at the woman sitting on the floor. Yes, she was still alive. 

Control read the terse message, grunted once and told Michael, "There goes my hopes for a hot shower and clean sheets.  I've been summoned to Washington to meet with the Company, NSA, and Pentagon brass.  Get me on the next flight out."  As the secretary turned and headed for the door, Control stood up, his left hand dropping to his side.  He brushed the top of her head, gently tugging at a lock of her hair.  In a whisper only he heard she said, "Be careful," and he was gone... again.