“You have a good run?” Jensen asked, looking up as John swung the office door open.

John nodded briefly, running a towel through hair still damp from the shower. “Yea, the ribs aren’t so sore today. I’m hoping that’s a sign you’ve found something useful for me to do.”

Slinging the towel over his shoulders, he slumped down onto the couch, snagging a cup of coffee from the table. Expectantly, he looked over at Jensen who was tucked behind the desk. “So? Any word from Bo? He’s been there two days already. You must have found him some way into the castle?” he prodded.

Jensen gave a casual shrug. “He should be on-sight as we speak. He radioed in last night that he would be taking the place of one of the grounds keepers today. I expect that he is in for a long day of shoveling snow.”

John leaned forward, a broad smile on his face. “Well don’t be so modest! Damn! Nice job. How did you manage it?”

Hesitating for a moment, Jensen reluctantly replied. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my doing, sir. Mr. Brady appears to have managed this on his own.”

Cocking his head, John gestured for him to continue.

“Yes, well it seems that Bo had our two operatives take him to the only Inn, which also serves as the town bar. After a few too many rounds of vodka, a poker game commenced between our men and some of the local laborers. Brady managed to draw several men who work at the castle into the game. He then proceeded to lose every cent he had on him. He estimated that it was around two a.m. by the time the only thing he had left to bet was a day’s labor. The man who won the pot, with a straight flush may I add, was both very drunk and one of the ground’s keepers at the estate. By four a.m. it had been decided that a bet was a bet. The other castle personnel agreed to pass Bo off as ‘Cousin Yuri’, the not too bright relative from some place even more backward than St. Julien. He should, at this very moment, be busy shoveling dirt and grunting moronically at anyone who asks him a question.”

Chuckling, John gave an admiring nod of his head. “The man does have a certain flare for this type of work,” he commented almost proudly.

“Remind me never to play poker with him. I suspect he cheats,” Jensen responded with much less enthusiasm.

“Lighten up! ‘Cheating’ may be a sin, Jensen. But ‘cheating well’, that is an art. Haven’t you learned anything from Stefano?”

“Mostly I’ve learned to keep my hand on my wallet,” Jensen replied dryly.

Shaking his head as if in dismay, John said sadly, “You were born without a soul. I swear, you have no appreciation for the pleasures in life.”

“Of course I do,” was the smug response. “For example, I am going to take great pleasure in the huge bonus you are going to give me when I tell you I may have found a way to get ‘you’ inside the castle.”

John’s casual demeanor dropped as the very thought set his adrenalin pumping. His right hand moved to rub against the butt of the handgun he wore strapped to his thigh as he rose swiftly to his feet. “Show me what you’ve got,” he said simply, moving to join Jensen at the desk.

“Look at this set of blueprints. It’s the most recent copy we could find. There’s no doubt that the place is laced with secret passages we don’t know about. Some have even been mentioned in historical documents. We don’t know where most of those passages are, but we do have the basic floor plan and it does show one passage that everyone knows about. See right here? It connects the castle to a cave in the side of the mountain,” Jensen said, his finger trailing a ragged blue line that ran from the castle to halfway down the mountain itself.

“Jensen, if everybody knows about this passage, I fail to see how it is going to do us any good,” John noted impatiently, wishing the man would just hurry up and tell him how to get to Marlena.

“Ah. That is a fair question. Well, first you must understand. The passage was originally created as a means of reaching a popular hot spring that was located deep in a cavern at the base of the mountain. Apparently, a young noble thought it inconvenient to have to walk down in the snow. A tunnel was hammered out from the castle all the way down to the cavern, and the hot springs were made the exclusive property of the castle.”

Warming into his tale, Jensen stood up before the blueprints and clasped his hands behind his back. Looking every inch the Oxford professor, he rocked back on his heels and began to lecture in earnest. “Now, you should realize that this all occurred over 200 years ago. For much of the past history, the caverns were private property, to be used only by the nobles. This all came to an end late in the 1920’s when the tunnel was used by an assassin making an attempt on the lord of the manor. The Duke survived, but the tunnels did not. Fearing the existence of the tunnels a weakness, the Duke ordered them sealed. Much to the irritation of both peasant and noble, the mouth of the cave was collapsed, and steel grates were installed to prevent use of the passages from inside the castle. As far as the official records are concerned, the tunnels are effectively useless. I highly doubt they would have even considered the old tunnels when the modern security equipment was installed.”

Trying not to let his irritation with Jensen’s meanderings show, John clasped his hands tightly behind his back in an effort not to throttle the man. There was simply no point in trying to rush Jensen when he was like this, and John knew better than to try. Forcing himself to sound patient, he noted calmly, “I still fail to see how the existence of a sealed tunnel helps us. There is no way we can get construction equipment into those mountains. Certainly not unnoticed. Jensen, will you please explain to me what I am missing!”

“Yes. Well, of course. You see, the official records don’t take into account the ingenuity of generation after generation of teenagers,” Jensen responded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Will you please get to the point!” John snapped, unable to prevent himself.

With a slight roll of his eyes, Jensen laid it out. “The two agents working with Bo? You know they went in as tourists wanting to explore off the beaten track. While one of the men stayed with Bo and his poker game, the other wandered off to see what he could discover from the younger crowd. For the cost of a couple of beers and a pack of cigarettes, several of the more disreputable teens were more than happy to clue him in on the best spots to check out. Seems there is a certain hot spring that the kids have been going to for as long as anyone can remember. Rumor has it that it used to be connected to the castle. The kids say that you can even see the steel door that leads into the tunnel. According to the teenage set, it is ‘the’ place to take a girl to go make-out.”

“We sure it’s the same hot spring?” John asked, trying not to get too excited by the prospect.

“Well, it’s the only set of hot springs reported in this area. That’s why the peasants were so unhappy about the nobles claiming it in the first place. It’s also probably why word never got back to the castle that the entry to the cavern had been cleared enough to pass. Nobody who used the spring wanted the word to get out. It would have just resulted in the springs being sealed off again.”

“Guess we should be grateful that the Alamains don’t hang out much with the teenage set, shouldn’t we,” John muttered distractedly, already intent on memorizing the location of the cave and tunnels. “Have our men checked this out?” he asked, different plans of attack running through his head.

“No,” Jensen replied with a shake of his head. “There hasn’t been time. I received the initial reports late last night, and I just found the floor plan showing the tunnel this morning. But, our agent did ask the kids about access. It seems that in the winter, the route from town is almost impassible. It would take forever on snowshoes, and our men haven’t found any means of transport that will get them there. The kids say it might be possible on a snowmobile, but the ground is pretty steep. And the men had already checked, there aren’t any snowmobiles available. As I mentioned, that little village is not exactly a tourist Mecca.”

With a frustrated sigh, John muttered, “Why can’t anything be easy?”

“I did find you a secret tunnel leading into the castle. What more did you want?” Jensen asked, sounding vaguely insulted.

Running a hand through his dark hair, John gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “No.... You’re right. You did good. Now… how long before you can arrange for a snowmobile and a transport truck?”

“I had a base established in the city of Stanburg as soon as St. Julian was identified as our target. It’s maybe a two-hour drive away from the village. Men and equipment are flowing in as we speak.”

A grim smile curved John’s lips, his muscles tingling with the promise of action. “Call the jet and pack up the papers,” he ordered curtly. “We’re out of here within the hour. I want this compound shut down and all operations moved to Stanburg, ASAP. While you’re at it, make sure we have a chopper at our disposal if we need it.”

His mind already focused on the equipment he would need to take with him, John was halfway to the door before he stopped suddenly and turned back to Jensen. “Oh. About that bonus? Whatever you want, it’s yours if this works.”

Jensen considered for a moment before asking, “What if it doesn’t work?”

With a shrug, John continued on out the door. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll probably all be dead and it won’t matter anyway.”

“Very reassuring,” Jensen muttered, but only after he was certain the door was shut.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, Stefano,” Marlena said as she wearily flopped down on the edge of the big bed that dominated his room.

“Please come in,” Stefano responded wryly, looking up from the remains of his breakfast.

She merely rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me. Not today. I just finished having a ‘lovely’ breakfast with my husband-to-be. He informed me that we will be making a formal announcement of our engagement at the holiday ball he hosts every year. Stefano, the ball is one week from Saturday!”

“I know. I just received my invitation last night. Actually, I can’t wait. You know how I love a masked ball!” Dimera responded almost jovially.

She glanced over at him with a hard look. “There is no way I can stand up in front of a room full of people and pretend like I want to marry that man! It’s all I can do not to vomit every time I am in his presence for more than a minute!”

“Marlena, calm yourself,” Stefano replied in a conciliatory tone. Pouring her a glass of juice, he rose from the table to approach the bed. “We will not be here by the time of the ball. Monday night, you and your children will be well on your way to safety. Just stay focused on that.”

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a deep sigh. “Do you really think it’s going to work? Can we trust Vivian to follow through with this?”

Cocking his head thoughtfully to the side, he seemed to consider the question. “Hm. Well, Vivian is about as trustworthy as a barracuda, I grant you that. But she has much to gain from helping us, and the risk to herself is minimal. I expect that she will hold up her end of the bargain. Have you made any progress on your side of things?”

She shrugged, opening her eyes and taking the proffered glass of juice. “I try to be civil to Mikos. I eat every meal with him, just the two of us. He isn’t fooled. I’m certain he knows that I detest him. But… I think that simply adds to his enjoyment. And so far, he has allowed me to visit the children for an hour each day. I’ve convinced him that Eric may have cracked a rib, and he is allowing him to stay in the girl’s room, at least for now. But I’m not sure how much longer that will last, Stefano. We are going to be cutting this very close. And I’m still not certain how I am going to manage to get into the room with them come Monday night. If I can’t… the children will simply have to go without me,” she finished softly.

With a dismissive grunt, he rejected that possibility. “You will be in that room on Monday night, Marlena. It will simply take a little inventiveness on our part. Perhaps I can put a good word in for you with Mikos,” he said with a half-smile.

With a frown in his direction, she tried to force the orange juice down, her stomach recoiling at the very thought. Irritated, she gave up, sitting the glass down on the night stand. “You have been rather chummy with him. He seems very excited at the possibilities that arise from dealing with someone like you,” she said distastefully.

Making a show of feigned modesty, Stefano replied. “Actually, there is a great deal of potential in the pairing. With the Alamain contacts and industries, I could easily double the size of my empire. The benefits are such that it’s almost a shame John is going to kill him,” Stefano said, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes.

“Don’t be melodramatic, Dimera. Under the best of circumstances, you wouldn’t be forming a partnership. Neither one of you is trustworthy enough for that. Don’t pretend like you are making some big sacrifice here. It won’t earn you any sympathy from me,” she said, her patience worn thin from too many dealings with Mikos.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a shrug, deciding it was for the best that he had not mentioned the specifics of what Vivian would be getting from their little deal. Marlena did not need to know that John was the actual heir to the Alamain empire. Not now, anyway. He had no wish to argue with her, and he doubted that she would appreciate the plans he had for John once his identity as the heir to the Alamain holdings was revealed.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he let the issue drop. “Altruism may not be my strong suite, but strategy is. If you are certain your moral fortitude will not be too offended by the idea of subterfuge, I do have some ideas on how you might arrange to be in the girls’ room on Monday night.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Stefano, when it comes to underhanded dealings, I bow to your mastery. What’s the plan?”

“You said that you had convinced Mikos that Eric was badly hurt. Is Eric that injured?”

“No. He’s fine. Just a few bruises that are already starting to fade. Why?” she asked, trying to make herself focus on her immediate problems.

“Keep playing up his fragile health. On Monday night, Eric will have a violent bout of nausea. As a concerned mother, you will insist on spending the night with him. I am confident of your ability to play the ‘hysterical woman’ if Mikos does not immediately go along with your suggestion,” he finished dryly.

Her eyes narrowed, but she ignored his last comment. “It might work, but Stefano, I don’t know if Eric can pull off being so ill that it raises Mikos’ concern. He will be suspicious as it is.”

Chuckling, Stefano reached into his pocket to pull out a thick cigar. “An old prison trick, Marlena. If you want to induce nausea, you simply mix the ashes from the tobacco in a cup of coffee. Drink it down, and ‘instant abdominal injury’. The effect will wear off in less than an hour, but that should be all the time you need to convince Mikos of the seriousness of the illness. And I am quite certain that an hour will be more than long enough as far as Eric is concerned.”

“It won’t hurt him, will it?” she asked, not certain that she liked this idea at all.

“Of course not. Believe me, it has been done successfully a thousand times. He will be ill for a short period, and then it will pass.”

“You are simply a font of information, Stefano,” she noted sarcastically. “Your knowledge of prison subculture is impressive. A true testament to the man you are.”

“Do you want my help or not?” he asked with a raised brow.

“There is a difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’. I need your help. I admit it. Are you satisfied?” she asked coldly.

“Ecstatic. Now, drink your juice,” he commented brusquely, attempting to change the subject. Wondering if now was the time to address his other worry.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snapped back. Realizing she was being petty, she added more gently, “I don’t feel like it, Stefano. Being around Mikos… I just don’t feel much like eating.”

Uncertain how to bring up the issue that had been plaguing him for days, he finally asked softly, “We’ve been here several weeks. Did you realize that? It’s been almost a month since the last night you and John spent together. The last night you made love?”

“That is none of your business!” she hissed, eyes going wide at the affront.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Dimera glanced away to study the wallpaper on the far side of the room. “I only meant.... Marlena, have you considered? The nausea? You haven’t been able to hold down your breakfast for the past week at least. Is it possible that it’s morning sickness?”

“No!” she said emphatically, her hands moved to wrap protectively around her stomach. “It is not possible!”

“You are certain?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t be pregnant Stefano. If Mikos even thought I was carrying John’s baby, he would kill it! I know he would. I can’t be pregnant,” she trailed off. “I couldn’t bear to lose John’s child.”

“You have thought about it, haven’t you?!” he said in sudden realization.

Unable to face him as the tears rushed to her eyes, she looked down and whispered softly, “I’m late. I’m three days late. I’m never late, Stefano.”

The implications running through his mind, he distracted asked, “You are sure of this?”

A hysterical laugh burst from her lips and she brushed at the tears that suddenly streamed down her face. “Um hm,” she said, unable to prevent the smile that graced her quivering lips. “I can feel it, Stefano. I can feel his child, growing inside of me. I can’t lose this baby. I can’t!” she said, spitting the words out like a challenge as she pulled her legs up onto the big bed and huddled in on herself as if it would somehow protect the life she carried inside of her.

He watched as she sat sobbing, the painful gasps of air somehow seeming to tear at him. Awkwardly, he sank down to perch on the side of the bed next to her. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her shaking form, surprised that she didn’t immediately pull away. Almost grudgingly, she allowed her head to sink against his chest and for a long moment they simply sat together in silence.

At long last, a rumbling chuckle echoed deep in his chest.

“What’s so funny,” she asked, not quite ready to relinquish the comfort of human contact.

“I’m going to be a grandfather!” he commented softly, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

With a jerk, she pulled herself upright and shoved him away. “You are not going to be anything to this child!” she stated hotly. “You are not even going to see it, and you will most certainly not be a part of its life!”

He had recognized his mistake the moment he had uttered the words. But her reaction goaded him, and he could not help but reply. “Perhaps John will see things differently! You will not be the only one with a say in this child’s life!”

“John wants nothing to do with you!” she retorted. “Why do you pretend he is anything more to you than a tool? A weapon for you to use! He would have been better off if he had never known you, and there is no way he would ever let you near a child of his!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right. He would have been so much better off if he had been raised by his ‘family’! After all, Mikos seems to have turned out so well,” Dimera shot back snidely. “You may not want to admit it, Marlena, but I am John’s father! Who do you think taught him to drive a car? To dance with a girl? Who do you think sat him down and had that little chat about ‘the birds and the bees’? Though obviously I should have stressed the importance of using ‘protection’ a little more and we wouldn’t be in this mess right now!”

She stared at him as if he were speaking in tongues. Unable to deal with the absurdities, she disintegrated into hysterical laughter, holding her chest in an effort to breathe.

“What?” he snapped.

As if in denial of the image, she shook her head back and forth. “You.... You telling John the ‘facts of life’....”

Disgruntled, he merely shrugged. “He was curious at a young age. His first experience...”

“I so don’t want to hear about it,” Marlena said, cutting him off. “Really. I don’t.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, red-faced.

Again a dry chuckle echoed through her and she gently rubbed her hands across her still flat stomach. “I want this baby, Stefano. I want it so badly. I won’t let anything threaten my child. Not ever.”

Standing awkwardly before her, he watched as she gazed lovingly down at the life she carried inside. A child. John’s child. For an instant, he felt a searing flash of jealousy and his thoughts went to a child that never was. He would not let that happen again. Crouching down, he braced his hand against the side of the bed. “This will work, Marlena. I promise you. You and your child will be safe. You will go home and lead a long and happy life. I will not allow anything to prevent that.”

“You will not be a part of that life. You do understand that?” she said firmly, finally bringing her eyes up to fasten on his.

“I understand completely,” he replied with a smile that never reached his eyes. 

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