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Chapter Four

Raising The Stakes

To increase the cost or risk of an activity.

*

Eroica woke to a world that was no longer swaying beneath him. His head was still pounding and his stomach was protesting, although not as badly as before. Bloody chloroform.

The air was cool around him, not stifling as it had been in the heart of Jakarta. His nose picked up the scent of wood-smoke and something cooking, reminding him that it had been a long time since he'd last eaten, which wasn't helped by the fact that anything he had previously consumed was lost over the side of a boat.

The surface beneath him was very soft and smelled of clean linen. That was when he realized he was naked. A small shift of position amended this. They had left him in his underwear. That was something, at least. He was still blindfolded and bound hand and foot. This time his hands were tied in front of his body, his elbows from behind, making it impossible to move his arms. Almost impossible to move at all, in fact.

As his head continued to clear, Eroica realized more things. The soft surface he was lying on was a bed. He heard birdsong and insect-noises coming from one part of the room, probably from an open window. A ceiling fan whirred nearly silently overhead, the reason for the lack of suffocating heat. Then he became aware that someone was in the room with him, only a few feet away. He focused his mind on the sounds they were making; a series of soft clicks, hushed rasping noises, and metallic whispers. It was a familiar and comfortable sound.

Or at least, it had been at one time.

Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach was cleaning his gun.

Eroica's throat still burned from the diesel fuel and he gave way to a few dry coughs before he finally spoke, using German rather than English. "I know how this will sound. But you didn't have to kidnap me. I would've come willingly."

Klaus gave a small grunt. "Bringing half of Langley with you," he replied tersely, in English. He was not about to be taken in by any false courtesy.

"No. I would've come alone, if you'd asked."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

Well, it was worth a try. "Probably not. You've good reason not to believe a word I say."

Klaus did not reply directly, saying instead, "You didn't cut your hair."

Eroica was thrown by the sudden non sequitur. "My hair?"

"After your mission was over, you didn't cut your hair."

"Did you cut yours?" There was a long silence that told Eroica the answer was probably no.

"And you're still dressing in those ridiculous clothes. Why?"

"Because my mission isn't over. They tacked on the job of locating you first. Until I'm formally debriefed, I have to..."

"Continue to play the part."

"Yes." Eroica took comfort in the man's business-like tone. He was, after all, a trained agent and understood the rules of the game.

"Is that why your English accent is back?"

Eroica frowned. "I don't understand..."

"In the holding room. When you told me who you really are, you spoke with a different accent. Part English, part American. It's gone now."

I did? "I can't be John Marshall until the Earl of Gloria..."

"Is eliminated."

Christ, do you have to put it like that?

"It's to occur as an accident," Klaus stated flatly. "With that flashy red Maserati of yours, on a side road near your estate."

"What is?"

The quiet laugh this question received was about as reassuring as the Major's friendly smile. "I know a great deal more about you than I ever did when I was in NATO." Especially now that I have all the information in the little bug's PDA. "Your cover is part of something codenamed Project: Eroica. At its conclusion, the Earl was to be eliminated, and you along with him."

Eroica gave an involuntary shudder. "Now you're just trying to unnerve me, Major."

There was a long pause.

"Major," Klaus repeated coldly. "You know I'm not NATO anymore. Are you trying to--?"

"No!" Eroica broke in defensively. He could almost feel the heat of the man's anger and wished he could throw his hands up. "It's just... I've never called you anything else." He pulled at his bindings to make his next point. "I'm not exactly in a position to assume I have the right to call you by name, now, am I?"

"You have a valid point." More snaps and clicks followed as Klaus started to reassemble his gun.

"What would you have me call you?"

"Major will do. What name shall I call you?"

The Earl considered a moment. "Eroica. It's a name neither John Marshall nor the Earl of Gloria can lay claim to."

Klaus gave a small grunt. Another valid point. "The accident..." he went on. "Did they tell you who was supposed to be in the car?"

"I didn't even know--" Eroica broke off, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. "You obviously know more about this than I do, so just spit it out. They sent me on this wild goose chase because they were hoping we'd kill each other. Save them the trouble." The next sound was a loud snap as a magazine was put into place. Then a bullet was chambered. Great. Iron Klaus with a loaded gun. I'm dead no matter what.

"What happened to the real Earl of Gloria?" Klaus asked suddenly.

Eroica shifted uneasily, being all too aware of his helplessness. "I don't know." His next words came out in an angry rush of words. "And don't think I didn't ask, either, because I did. Dozens of times."

"And what did they tell you?"

"They told me that I was the Earl of Gloria, and the sooner I got that into my head, the sooner we could get on with the mission."

"And now?"

"Shit, Major, I don't know. It's all fucked up, now."

There was a rustle of papers. "According to the records," Klaus said calmly, "CIA Agent John Robert Marshall died on the 26th of November, 1975. The victim of a drunk driving accident during the Thanksgiving holiday rush. He was buried with full honors in his home town in Western New York State. Among the mourners were Agent Marshall's widowed mother, his three sisters, and his former fiancée along with her future husband."

"Thank you for the obit, Major," Eroica said sourly.

"You no longer exist, Agent Marshall."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Just who do you think they had in that flag-draped casket?" Klaus asked coldly, putting his gun down with an audible clunk.

"No one. It was empty."

"Please, tell me you're not really that naïve," Klaus groaned. "Why do you think you were chosen to impersonate the Earl? It's not just your acting ability. It's because you were a dead-ringer for him. The obituary has a photograph of you. Just some minor plastic surgery to fix your cheek bones..."

Eroica felt his heart in his mouth. Somehow, he had always suspected that the real Earl was dead, but had assumed it was from his own excesses, not... "Are you saying...they killed him?"

"No way of knowing for certain without an exhumation and DNA comparison. Even so, this just confirms what I've always suspected. Our governments are run by idiots. You represent a massive investment in recruitment, training, and placement, Agent Marshall. To kill you because the mission is over is wasteful. To successfully indoctrinate you into going along with whatever was asked of you is--criminal."

"You've certainly changed your tune."

Klaus frowned. "What do you mean?"

Eroica opened his mouth only to close it again. Shit, what the hell am I doing? How easy it was to fall back into the habit of baiting the man. The man who now had a loaded weapon beside him and had every reason in the world to use it.

"What do you mean?" Klaus repeated more firmly.

Eroica drew a deep breath and plowed ahead. "I asked you about your moral code once because you were so accepting of that KGB mole in Vienna."

"Vienna?" A pause. "When you had that breakdown over the statue?"

Just keep twisting the knife, why don't you? "Yes," Eroica replied, choosing to not rise to the bait. "Do you remember what you said? I'll never forget it. You said that one is capable of anything once one's mission is completely hammered into one's mind."

Klaus sat back in his chair. He didn't recall the exact words, but they certainly sounded like him. "And you think I should feel that way about you, is that it?"

"I don't know anymore. You seem to've re-written your morals. You're the one who used to say he'd do anything for a mission."

"And you? Are you willing to die for this one?"

Eroica felt his heart in his mouth. Is that a threat? Oh, hell. "Major..."

"Are you?"

Eroica felt sure that at one time the idealist who was John Marshall would have answered, "If I have to." But that man no longer existed. And now the Earl of Gloria would soon be erased from existence, leaving only Eroica, whose code of ethics ran along completely different lines. He didn't even hesitate in his reply. "No, Major, I'm not. I-- Oh, hell, I'm no spy. Half the time I didn't even know what I was stealing. I'm just an actor who didn't know what the hell he was getting himself into. I got all caught up in the romance and intrigue. That's one thing the Earl and I have in common."

"Then there's hope for you yet," Klaus said as he stood up and holstered his gun. "We'll talk more later."

"Wait! You're not leaving me like this, are you?" Eroica pulled at his bindings. "Some clothes would be nice. Some food? And a trip to the loo wouldn't go amiss, either."

There was a long silence that followed. He knew Klaus was looking at him in his usual intense way and wondered what could be going through his mind. He jumped when the blindfold was suddenly pulled off. He stared up at the man standing over him. It was odd seeing him out of his "uniform" of business suit and tie and in what could only be considered casual clothing. His hair was indeed still long, but pulled back. The pained look was still in his eyes. A look that had haunted Eroica since that day in the holding room. But there was something else there that he couldn't quite decipher. If Klaus really wanted to hurt him, he was helpless to prevent it. Then he remembered the Major's midnight visit to his room. His open declarations that the chase had ended and the Earl had won. A tender kiss on the lips. What if he had other things in mind? Oh, Christ...

"Major, I know I said I'd cooperate, but there are some things..." He could not keep his voice from trembling, nor could he stop himself from tensing up. He received a blank look in reply. Then the meaning of his words came through all too clearly and anger moved over the German's features like a storm cloud.

"After wiggling your ass and flaunting a legion of pretty boys in front of--"

"Despite what you may've thought, Major," Eroica broke in sharply, "all those pretty boys were just so much window dressing. Eye candy. Props, like my clothes." He met the officer's accusing glare as unflinchingly as he could. "As tempting as it was at times, I always went to bed alone. I couldn't take the risk. No one, male or female, has ever shared Eroica's bed with that intent."

This was obviously a startling revelation. Klaus's eyebrows went up and he drew himself to his full, imposing height. "And no one will now," he stated flatly. "You will not be touched with that intent by me or anyone else."

Eroica knew his fear was palpable and concentrated to keep himself from breaking eye contact. He had spent more than half his life meeting the Major's attacks head on. He couldn't risk stopping now when he was uncertain as to the man's mental state. "Major, you have no idea how difficult it was for me to not tell you the truth all these years. I really did admire you. I just couldn't say it. So...I finally decided to use ‘I love you' in its place."

Klaus seemed unconvinced and remained unnervingly silent.

"May I ask why I'm practically naked?"

"We had to be certain there were no tracking devices on you. Your clothes were destroyed."

Destroyed? The smell of smoke! "You burned what I had on, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"I could've told you--" Eroica broke off and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. He doesn't trust you anymore, idiot! If he ever did. "Never mind."

"They will be replaced." Klaus waved a hand in the general direction of the far wall and Eroica saw his luggage that had been in his hotel in Jakarta. Iron Klaus hadn't lost his touch. He probably had a group of Alphabets checking his party out of the hotel while G and Z were snatching them off the street. His party!

"Someone will be in shortly so you can shower and dress," Klaus was saying. "And you'll get some food. You won't starve."

"Bonham...and James?"

"They're safe, for the moment."

"For the moment?" Despite the heat, Eroica shivered.

"Yes."

"I'm going to be brutally honest with you, Major. Reassurances or no, you scare the hell out of me now," Eroica admitted shakily. "Am I to be touched with any other intent by you?"

Klaus scowled. "What other intent?" he said suspiciously.

"You beating the shit out of me."

This actually caused an amused look to flash briefly across Klaus's face. "If you continue to cooperate, you will not be harmed. Your thieving skills and contacts might be useful. I don't know yet."

Eroica nodded, watching in silence as the officer left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling. He shivered as the cool air from the ceiling fan played over his bare skin. Or was it something else? Something like the fact that he suddenly realized with unquestioning certainty that his world had irreversibly changed forever.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:
We have now reached the point where Filigree's original story stopped. Here on out is uncharted territory. Please keep your seatbelts fastened and be sure your seatbacks and tray tables are in the full upright and locked positions.
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