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				EXPOSURE by Fran Lavery Chapter Six       The Miller Building was beautifully air-conditioned, something that Anne-Marie Fletcher was very thankful for. The heat outside on the Seattle sidewalk was overwhelming, but her office on the nineteenth floor was just right in terms of temperature.       Her morning had gone so fast and uneventful, she barely recalled it happening, and the rest of her day wasn't going to be up to much either, but before the drudgery, she discovered with a quick look at her schedule, came a little fun. Her two favourite suppliers had an appointment at eleven. In two minutes. She was pleased that she happened to be wearing her best blue skirt-suit, which flattered her petite figure, and made her look more mature than her twenty-four years.       She sneaked to the door of her office and peeked through the blinds, examining them carefully, since it had been three months since any of their company had been in contact. The two men sat there in her outer office, calm and happy, laughing together. The younger with the smooth, handsome face, sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his brown eyes raking the ceiling as he chatted. The other, with his wild, rugged features and deep blue eyes sat with his ankle rested over his knee, and his arms thrown in a relaxed fashion over the back of the sofa they were occupying.       Here were Scott and Virgil Tracy to renew the Miller Inc/Tracy Corps contract. They were great. Smart and funny, scoring points off each other all the time. Hysterical to listen to. And persuasive too. Although she did sometimes wonder if she always signed up for another quarter because she had a crush on them both.       Not very professional, but what the hell.       Returning to her desk, she asked her secretary, Mrs Mahony, to summon her next appointment.       The English spring was mild, as ever. Lady Penelope rose that morning and stretched languidly in her four-poster bed. Her pretty room was fresh and crisp with the windows flung open and the thin, white curtains moving slightly in the breeze. She smiled in calm contentment, before receiving the shock of her life.       Suddenly, all the air was being squashed out of her by a strange weight on her stomach. Taken by surprise, she cried out and sat up, ready to throw the alien object to the other side of the room. The mass was too quick though, and dived under her covers. She could feel it on her leg. Not one to give over to panic easily, she swiftly pulled her legs out and knelt on them. Then, she seized the end of her eiderdown and, bracing herself, flung it up, exposing her intruder.       There knelt Matthew. His mischievous face creased up in silent mirth at her shock, and she couldn't help but laugh, despite her hammering heart. She was so thankful that she hadn't had the time to deal with him in the way she normally dealt with intruders, (by throwing them out of the nearest window,) since he wouldn't of liked her half as much if she had.       Matthew had been a joyful addition to her household, and she would be very sad when he had to go. The first day they met, the day after that dreadful fire, he still looked worse for wear and over-excited. Since he had fallen asleep before he arrived at Tracy Island, the best Jeff had managed to do was soothe the worst of his burns. After arriving with her, still covered in soot from his ordeal, (even his tongue had been black,) they had had a lovely time, getting him washed and doctored and feeling better again.       As warned by Scott and Virgil, after a day or two he had become very depressed and upset at what had happened with his kidnappers. They'd sat for hours on her bed while she'd hugged him and soothed him and told him he would be alright with her and Parker. The men even came to him in nightmares, and Parker had escorted him into Her Ladyship's room on more than one occasion in the dead of night, when he'd heard the boy running around his room, trying to escape his subconscious captors, silent sobs staining his face.       Still, he'd recovered quickly. And now here he was, two weeks later. Her very own Oliver Twist, stealing apples from the kitchen behind Lil's back, and hiding in the garden at bath time, until Parker caught him and carried him, fireman style to the bathroom, and on the odd morning, sneaking into her bedroom before she was awake and hiding her favourite slippers. He was an incorrigible scamp, and she was having the most wonderful time tucking him in at night, and watching him sneak extra helpings at mealtimes. The only times he really, truly behaved himself were at tea time, where he would sit with his milk and biscuits like an angel, and when she had society friends over, since he was nervous of strangers, especially grand strangers like the ones who graced Penny's house.       "And just where did you get that little darling, Penelope?" the Duchess of Royston had inquired, as Matthew peeped out from behind Penny's legs.       "Oh, I'm just fostering awhile, Deborah. I feel it's only right when one has a house this big to share it with the less fortunate. His name is Simon."       She'd decided that the phrase 'five year-old named Matthew living with Lady Penelope' should be avoided, since his enemies were probably looking for him again by now. The Duchess could, via the grapevine, manage to ruin the security Penelope offered, so she kept all her friends in the dark. For a change, she thought, wryly.       'Parental instincts' was the phrase Parker had used to describe her handling of Matthew. He was probably right, but her lifestyle was hardly the right one to start introducing children into. It was possible that she would never even consider having babies until her days as an agent were over. That could make her a very old parent! But after all, International Rescue hardly needed an agent stopping off at Tesco's in the middle of a mission because she craved beetroot, or losing time on an assignment because the babysitter was late.       And besides, the way she understood it, she needed a man first.       Ha!       None of them hung around long after intense shellfire from unmarked helijets, or 200 mile-an-hour car chases around London city centre.       So for now, she'd have to make do with lovely, little Matthew, grinning cheekily before her.       "If my slippers are missing," she warned with a smile, "you are going to be in so much trouble!"       As they stood to go into their meeting, Scott and Virgil grinned together at the prospect of meeting again with Anne-Marie Fletcher. She was a fun client, more fun than the stiff old suits they had to try and charm at other companies. Miller Inc made conventional aircraft for public use, and bought a lot of their material from Tracy Corps. Scott and Virgil always tried to beat their brothers and secure the quarterly meeting with Miss Fletcher, because she was giddy and cute and easy to sell to.       But of course, she was nothing like that when described to their brothers.       They wandered across the room, but were intercepted by a tall man with brown, wavy hair, dark eyes behind black spectacles and a crossed-German accent.       "Excuse me, sirs," he had inquired politely, "but are you not Miss Fletcher's eleven o'clock appointment, the representatives of the Tracy Corporation?"       "Sure, that's us," Scott had replied, smiling. "Can we help you?"       "Ah, yes, my name is Dunhoff, and I am an acquaintance of Miss Fletcher's." He shook their hands heartily. "She has very kindly permitted me to sit in on your meeting, since I am eager to learn about, what did she... ah, yes 'people-skills'."       Seeing their confusion, he explained further. "I am soon to try for a job here in the United States, and Dearest Anne-Marie has been helping me with my technique in communicating well with American people of business." Mr Dunhoff looked anxious as well as panicky. "This is a problem?"       "Well, no, I guess not," said Virgil swiftly, eager to quell this nervous man's apprehension. "We'll be glad to help…"       "Ah, yes!" the man seemed to remember something quickly, "How you can help, Anne-Marie told me to tell you to pretend that I am not there."       Scott and Virgil glanced at one another.       "She insisted that I should not get in the way, that I was purely an observer, watching how you interacted with one another to create a relaxed atmosphere in the workplace."       Virgil looked at Scott.       Scott shrugged.       And Mr Dunhoff joined them as they entered the office.       Anne-Marie sat at her desk, trying to look business-like and intense when she heard the door open. Upon seeing Scott and Virgil, she removed her glasses in a practised motion and stood up brightly, to greet them with a handshake.       "Well, isn't this nice," she smiled eagerly. "I hope you came prepared to fight though, cos I'm not happy with these figures…"       They seemed more interested in the corner a little way behind her desk than in her. Not the reaction she was after. She turned and was faced with the chair, the water-cooler and the plant, just like always. A little confused, she asked, "Is there a problem?"       "Oh, no no no!" Virgil insisted.       "Don't worry," Scott said in an understanding tone, "we know the score."       In three months they'd slipped from mild lunacy to full blown insanity, it seemed. Maybe it was to be expected, she mused. Still, despite not knowing what they were talking about, Anne-Marie continued, hoping to get the meeting going a little more smoothly.       She held up some papers. "These figures, Misters Tracy. Start explaining." On to Chapter Seven.