The Big Catch

"Here. Take this as a small token of my gratitude," the Countess purred, taking Janet's hand and placing the check into it, caressing her palm through the paper. Janet raised an eyebrow, to which the Countess only smiled. Then Janet looked at the check in her hand and gasped.

"I think there has been a mistake, milady," she said, pointing at the sum written on the check. "Mr. Scarletti—."

The Countess had placed a finger on Janet's lips. "Usually, I don't make mistakes. Trusting that jeweler may well count as one, but I know what I have written. It's all right. I see this as an advance investment in your company. Since I will be around the United States for a bit, maybe I can ask for your services on occasion?" She looked from Jason to Janet.

"As long as working for you doesn't include trigger-happy Russians, I'm all for it," Jason said, fishing a business card from his jacket. "A pleasure to be of service, Milady."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Monsieur... Schroeder," the Countess whispered, taking the card from him and flipping it to Fabien.

"What are you going to do, now that your delivery is made," she asked, turning again to look at Janet.

"Well, since we're already here, we might as well have a look around the city, maybe eat a nice steak dinner, by way of a victory celebration. After that, who knows?" Janet replied, looking intently at Jason.

Fabien leaned in and handed the Countess a long-stemmed champagne flute.

"A toast then. To a job well done and new opportunities?" The Countess raised her glass.

Their glasses clinked together.

"That sure was strange," Janet said as the elevator doors opened, pinging its arrival on their floor.

"Too much touchy-feely for my taste," Jason grumbled, opening their suite door.

"What, Mr. Playboy is jealous when another woman tries to hit on me? And here I thought I could motivate you to a hot threesome. I bet the Countess wouldn't mind."

"The Countess I didn't mind. I was talking about that Fabien guy." He slammed the door shut, harder than strictly necessary.

"Hmmm, such a nice, groomed man. I wonder if he was bald all over," Janet purred, flopping down on her bed and caressing her breasts, over exaggerating the way the Countess had teased herself.

"I'm not keeping you. Find out if you want," Jason growled, taking the executive chair at the desk.

Janet looked at him. He really was agitated. Maybe she should stop riling him up. Sighing, she rolled off the bed and crossed the room, sitting on his lap.

"Hey, I'm only joking. Don't be mad, okay?" She leaned in and breathed a quick kiss onto his lips. He wrapped both arms around her and pressed her close, kissing her back hard.

"Didn't you say you've forgiven me about Natasha?" he asked when their lips separated.

"I did," she whispered. "But no one said I should stop teasing you."

"I wouldn't mind you stopping. Give it a rest already." He slipped a hand under Janet's blouse, caressing up her spine. She smiled and cuddled up against him.

"Keep that up and I might actually consider that," she beamed, raising his head with two fingers under his chin, pecking small kisses onto his lips. She could feel his dick twitch in his trousers.

"Maybe I just need to be more persuasive then," Jason growled, slipping his other hand under her blouse, this time going for a breast.

"Bringing out the big guns, eh?" Janet giggled. His hands were just the thing she needed.

"Jason, I..."

A loud, urgent knocking at the door stopped her mid-sentence.

"Aw, what the fuck?" Janet hissed, sliding off Jason's lap.

Her partner zipped past her, SiG in hand, and flattened himself to the wall next to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked, weapon at the ready.

"It'sa me, Scarletti," a voice came from the outside.

Jason opened the door, hiding the gun behind the door frame. Indeed, looking quite disheveled himself, stood Antonio Scarletti. He had dark rings under his eyes and was even more pale than when Janet had seen him last.

"My, what an unexpected visitor," Janet sneered. With a grim smile, she pulled him over the threshold.

"Next time, remind me to put the do not disturb sign up," Jason rumbled, closing the door. Turning to Scarletti, he asked, "And what brings you out to San Francisco?"

"I... umm... just wanted to make sure the merchandise had arrived intact," Scarletti stammered, wringing his hands.

"So, you've spoken with the Countess?" Janet asked sweetly, pushing the executive chair Scarletti's way. He sat down with a grunt.

"Si, si. She's praising you all over," he huffed.

"So why are you really here then?" Jason asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Scarletti nearly fainted as he saw the gun in his right hand.

"I was wondering if there were some other things in the case besides the necklace," Scarletti carefully began.

"What, like the Semtex? Enough to blow us, the train car and a good mile of track into orbit?" Janet snarled.

"You certainly understand that you can't be too careful when expensive jewelry and untested couriers are involved."

"What I don't understand is, how, about two pounds of assorted diamonds happened to end up in the case, Mister Scarletti," Jason said. "Care to explain?"

"That... that must have been a small mistake," Scarletti stammered.

In a flash, Jason was on him, pressing the muzzle of the SiG between his eyes.

"Mister Scarletti. Just for your information. In the last three days, we have been attacked several times by very angry Russians. They assaulted us during the train ride, which wasn't strictly necessary, as the Countess was nice enough to tell us. They nearly drove us off the road and shot at us. And I really don't like being shot at. Do you?" Deliberately, he pulled back the hammer on his gun, seeing Scarletti twitch at the clicking.

"All right, all right. It wasn't a mistake. But please, put the gun away. Guns make me nervous!"

"Spill it," Jason ordered, his eyes boring into Scarletti's.

"You see, I'm broke. Finito. My business doesn't run as well as it once did."

"Hard to believe with all the high-class stuff you have on display," Janet said from her bed.

"The raw materials cost a small fortune, DeBeers is killing me, the rent is a small fortune, the Russians want a small fortune in protection money, and thanks to the recession, no one buys good, honest jewelry any more. The last thing I sold was a wedding ring for a hundred and fifty dollars!"

"What about the diamonds?"

Scarletti writhed on his chair. Jason slipped the magazine out of the SiG and back in noisily, causing the panicked jeweler to nearly jump out of his skin.

"The Russians gave them to me. They tasked me to get rid of the serial numbers on the cut ones and turn the whole lot into money. Where are they?"

"We're not done asking questions, Mister Scarletti," Jason said.

"All right, but could you please stop with the gun?"

"How did they end up in our carry case?"

"Because I put them there."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sick and tired of being kicked around. Ever since the Russians have taken over from the Italian families, my existence has been a living hell. The old families at least were polite as long as you paid your dues, but these Russians? Barbarians, I tell you!"

"The diamonds, Scarletti," Jason prompted.

"Ah si. I wanted to turn them to cash. Not for Sokoloff, but for myself. I wanted to go to Italia, live a quiet life away from it all."

"And you sent the Russians after us? Where's the logic in that?" Janet angrily asked.

"No, no! That was a mistake. I... I must have mixed up the GPS codes for the cases in my haste to get the stones out of the door. By the time Sokoloff and his goons would have realized they got the wrong case, both you and I were supposed to be well out of New York, really!"

"And the reason we should only go by train?" Janet prodded.

"Simple. No one checks for explosives at train stations, at least not yet. And I thought the Russians were too stupid to check anything else but airports.

"Well, they weren't. And they had the GPS code to our suitcase, causing us nothing but trouble," she snapped.

"I am deeply sorry for all of that. I never intended for any of this to happen. Now... how about you tell me where the diamonds are?"

"And let you get away scot free? You know, Mr. Scarletti, we should turn you over to the police. I'm no lawyer, but setting us up with that much Semtex alone could get you in all kinds of trouble," Jason said.

"Please, don't. I'll give you all my money if you let me go. And tell me where my stones are."

"My, he's desperate," Janet said.

"Yes, I'm desperate. Please. These diamonds are all I have left. Please. What else do you want? Shall I prostrate myself for you? Do you want to publicly humiliate me?" Scarletti whined. He pulled open his coat. Jason's gun came up. Scarletti blanched and slowly yanked out an expensive-looking wallet. Jason exhaled slowly and relaxed.

"No hasty movements, Scarletti. We're still on edge, thanks to your fucking scheme."

"Sorry. Really, I am," he said, upending his wallet. A small bundle of bills and some change ended up on the bed.

"Here, take it all. Now let me know where my diamonds are, I'm begging you!"

Jason stowed his gun away. Yes, Scarletti was desperate, but he was no fighter. Then he went over to the desk and used a small notepad to write a few lines.

"Janet, take his money," he ordered.

"Already done," his partner said, rustling with the bills.

Jason ripped the note from the pad and pulled Scarletti to his feet.

"Open the door for me, will you?"

"Of course. Have a nice day, Mister Scarletti," Janet said, opening the suite door with a flourish. Jason pressed the note into his hand and gave him a small push, closing the door in the man's face.

"Wait for it," he said, a fiendish grin on his face.

"For what?" Janet asked bewildered. A moment later, they heard an unearthly wail from the outside.

"What have you done?"

"Just what he asked for. I let him know where his diamonds are."

"Oh, the note. What did you write?"

Jason chuckled, "'Your diamonds are at 450 Golden Gate Ave #13, ask for FBI Special Agent in Charge Alex Carmichael.' I don't think he was too happy to read that. How much did he leave?"

"Nine grand and change. He really is broke."

"Should be just enough for a tux, a nice dress and two seats in the best joint in town. What do you think?"

"Normally, I would not approve, but after all we've been through? I think we earned that. Take me away, cowboy!"

"Great, let me just get my jack—"

A sharp knocking at the door interrupted Jason.

"Maybe we should ask the Hyatt to install a revolving door," Janet quipped. But despite her light-hearted attitude, her knife was in her hand as she slowly walked towards the door. Jason beat her to it, his gun behind his back. With a growl, he threw the door wide.

A whip-thin man, wearing a photographer's vest and blue jeans, beamed at them.

"Mr. Schroeder? Hi! Nice to meet you. My name is Jon Patterson, San Francisco Chronicle. Do you have a moment?" He extended a slim hand.

"What do you want?" Jason asked, nearing the end of his patience.

"Oh, nothing major. I just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding the arrest of Anatoli Sokoloff. How did you end up working with the FBI?" he asked, holding a small digital voice recorder under Jason's nose which he nearly dropped as another man planted a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Fancy meeting you here, Jon," the new arrival, wearing a simple business suit, said. "How many times has it been this month? You know these people aren't allowed to tell you anything, since they are part of a federal investigation. Scram."

"Yeah... just a lucky coincidence," Patterson murmured as he turned and walked away in a hurry.

"And you are?" Jason asked warily.

"Special Agent Jacob Strauss," he said, showing his badge. "I'm here to take your statements."

"So much for our shopping spree," Janet complained, flopping down onto the bed.

At around 5:30 pm, Agent Strauss finally left, after thoroughly grilling them for every tiny event during their trek to San Francisco.

Jason returned from the balcony, closing the door behind him.

"No use. The whole freaking sidewalk is jammed with news vans."

"You think they're here because of us?"

"Maybe us, maybe the Countess. But I don't fancy running a paparazzi gauntlet."

"You know what?" Janet asked, stretching on the bed. "Screw the candlelight dinner. Screw shopping. Let's just stay here, only you and I. Maybe room service has something nice on the menu, and after that? Maybe some ...desert?"

"Are you sure?" Jason asked, striding towards the bed and leaning over her. "After all, I promised you a dinner with all the trimmings."

Janet reached up and pulled him bodily on top of her.

"It's just food. And knowing our luck, we'll end up poor and hungry, thanks to that nouvelle cuisine bullshit. Give me an honest steak and I'm happy. On second thought, I won't mind this either," she giggled, one hand fondling his package through his jeans.

Someone chose this moment to knock at the door.

"Seriously?" Jason complained.

"That can only be Natasha. Every other person we know has already passed through," Janet needled.

She was wrong, though. The door opened and Fabien, the Countess' majordomo, entered.

"I don't remember offering you to come in," Jason growled, righting his clothing.

"I am sorry and I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Fabien cooed. "The Countess sends her regards."

"Can't she send her regards tomorrow? We were kinda busy here," Janet grumbled, sitting up and swiping hair out of her face.

"Please, let me explain," Fabien said, checking his watch. He went over to the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, picked up the remote and turned it on. A moment later, they saw themselves, sitting in their banged-up Charger, talking to Agent Carmichael. Jason and Janet groaned in unison as a voice explained the circumstances of the arrest of notorious Russian mobster Anatoli Sokoloff.

"You see, this is all over the news since early afternoon. The Countess figured that with so many reporters outside, you'd be hard-pressed to get a decent victory celebration. So she asked me to whip up something.

"Really, that's not necessary. Tell the Countess a huge 'thank you'..." Jason began.

"Oh, but Madame insists," Fabien said, clapping his hands. Suddenly, their suite was flooded with people. Jason and Janet found themselves holding large, flat parcels while some staff, dressed in white chef's garb, were setting up an impromptu kitchen next to their suite's table.

"Looks like we've been outmaneuvered," Janet sighed. She cracked the lid on her parcel open and peeked inside. Nudging Jason with her elbow, she said, "Okay, you first."

"Me first... what?

"You use the bathroom, go change."

"Oh well." He took his parcel and entered the bathroom. While she waited, Janet looked at the controlled chaos surrounding her. Fabien was busy talking with one of the chefs, pointing at wine bottles the chef held out for his inspection while the table was laid and food was prepared. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Jason returned, wearing a dark blue suit and white shirt, his hair for once meticulously combed back.

"You look great," Janet said with a big grin as she slipped past him.

"Not what I would wear casually, but it fits surprisingly well," he returned

"Madame has a keen eye for clothing," Fabien said, joining them. "I hope you like the color."

"It's okay."

"Trés bien. Have a seat while Madame Cameron changes."

"I think I'll keep standing, thank you." He paced the length of the room. Too much fuss, too many people. He only wanted to be alone with Janet, but it seemed the universe had other plans for them.

After what felt like only moments, Janet was back. The dress she wore looked at the same time classy and revealing, with a deep, triangular neckline ending just between her breasts. The black fabric was shot through with silver thread that sparkled when the light hit it just right. She also wore a thin choker made from small silver squares and an amulet studded with Swarovsky crystals. She grinned happily as she saw Jason's awe-struck face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, handsome," Janet purred as she glided over to him. She had to admit, the suit he wore fit him perfectly. He looked like a dashing secret agent in it.

"I think it's the first time I've see you in anything but trousers," he said.

"Not true," she said, hugging him close. He inhaled deeply. Janet even smelled differently, a rich, sensual scent. "I think you've seen me naked a couple of time already," she whispered into his ear before nibbling on his earlobe.

"That's not what I meant," Jason weakly protested.

"No?" Janet asked innocently.

"Bah, never mind," he grumbled, leading her towards the table. As they were seated, someone dimmed the light in the suite and two candles on the table were lit. Most of the staff had disappeared, leaving only one chef and a server.

"Well, enjoy yourselves, mes amis. I'll let the Countess know that you liked her surprise," Fabien said as he withdrew.

"Please do," Janet said. Someone had turned on the music, soft strings wafted through the suite.

"Good riddance," Jason murmured as the door closed behind a beaming Fabien. Turning towards the chef, he asked, "What's on the menu tonight?"

"First up, we'll serve a light salad with raspberry vinaigrette. For the main course, it will be Filet Mignon, medium rare, plus baked potatoes with the whole nine yards and a side dish of your choice. For desert, I have here fudge brownies with hot fudge topping."

"Ooooh, de-licious!" Janet exclaimed, rubbing her hands in anticipation. "Decent food, yay. And I half-expected frog's legs..."

"Mister Fabien insisted on something to your tastes," the chef said, shrugging. "Shall I begin?"

"Sure, by all means," Jason said. When Fabienne had interrupted their cuddling, he thought he had no interest in food, but now he realized how famished he was. Their last meal had been the pizza in Barstow, and that felt like two lifetimes ago. They ate the salad in silence and occasionally watched the chef put the finishing touches to their main course.

Over their steak, Janet looked at Jason.

"Looks like we've truly made it," she said. "But what next?"

"You tell me," Jason said between bites.

"Why me?"

"Because you got the check from the Countess."

"Oh, that," Janet said with a smile, taking a sip from her wine. "She was very generous, almost quadrupling what the job would have paid."

"That's a lot of cash," Jason said, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Absolutely. We could upgrade our business a bit."

"Anything specific in mind? Apart from the obvious 'investigating our clients before taking a huge job like this one'."

"Sounds like the basis for a few company policies," Janet giggled.

"Oh my god. Not more rules," Jason groaned.

"Why? So far, you've managed reasonably well."

"I was thinking maybe about hiring one or two part-time people, so our business can go on while we're out of town doing the risky stuff," Jason mused.

"So, you think this wasn't the last high-profile job?" Janet asked.

"I sure hope not. Maybe with a little less flying lead next time, but if the Countess asks for more of our services..."

"I think I'd like that, very much," Janet purred. The food was delicious, but she found it hard to think about anything but Jason. "More exciting times with my security chief..."

"All right." The chef harrumphed. "The desert is prepared, the hot topping is on this warmer for your convenience. Just pour it over the brownies and enjoy. Have a nice evening. Erm. Good bye," he said, wheeling his portable stove out of the suite. The server threw Jason and Janet one last, envious look and left. He picked up the "Do not disturb" sign and closed the door from the outside