Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm really glad you like the story so far. Hope the same for this chapter. Oh, and yes, Woody's undercover name is a tribute of sorts to Burn Notice (which I don't own either). Enjoy!:-)

Chapter Four: Getting Acquainted

Jordan had been excited at the prospect of undercover work, but the FBI and its requirements had truly put a damper on her spirits.

“I wear contacts, you know I could just wear my own glasses,” she said grudgingly as the ill-fitting eye wear was placed on her face.

“Your glasses don’t have a camera set in the frame,” the technology guy reminded her.

To her left, Agent Dawson sighed, while Woody chuckled. Woody would bet anything that the agent was regretting his decision to let Jordan in on the action. Although Woody wasn’t too pleased with the assortment of ‘spy gear’ he had on his body, he also knew that it was necessary for gathering evidence and protection.

“Okay,” Dawson said once the two were loaded down with hidden microphones, cameras, and tracking devices. “Your new identities…Michael Donovan and Elsa Ciraolo. They come complete with backgrounds that will stand up to scrutiny. You,” he indicated Woody, “Are a black ops expert, complete with a dishonorable discharge from the Marines. Cavanaugh, your experience is in art. Specifically, in authentication and appraisal. You both will need to be familiar with these fields…we’ll be behind the scenes to supply you with information, of course, but your confidence will make or break the operation.”

Woody and Jordan both nodded.

“One last thing,” Dawson continued. “The two of you are business partners…and business partners only. Not lovers, not even friends. If you’re too familiar, they won’t trust you. You have enough to be dealing with--stick to the business aspect. Your working with them is just a transaction. The less you give them personally, the less reason they’ll have to suspect you.”

“Speaking of them,” Woody said. “Who exactly are they?”

Dawson nodded to the files in their hands. “Everything you need to know is in there. Butch Matthews and Simon Taylor. They’re the small timers who you’ll be working with--the ones we have the evidence against--but the primary goal is to meet their employer and get hard-core evidence of his crimes.”

Jordan snorted. “Just like cooking with an Easy Bake Oven, right?”

The agent glared at her. “This is serious…and dangerous. You’ll have to be specific, but vague at the same time. It’s a very fine line to walk; if you are just going to joke about it, I’ll get someone else.”

Jordan held her hands up. “I’m cool, man. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Woody put his arms around Jordan. “It’s no sweat. Jordan’s done more undercover work on her own that half of the agents under you. We’ll be fine.”

Agent Dawson stared at them a bit longer. “All right,” he said finally. “You’re staying here until we’re ready to insert you. You’ll be meeting Matthews and Taylor tonight. Our intel says they’ll be at the Shadow Room.”

“The Shadow Room?” Woody asked. “That’s a nice club for some grunt workers.”

“Just because they’re grunts doesn’t mean that they’re poor. These two like to live it up,” Dawson explained. “Now, this may take a while…you could be gone for days or weeks. Go learn about your new selves.”

With one last nod, Dawson was out the door and Woody and Jordan were left alone in the conference room.

Woody leaned over in the car and squeezed Jordan’s hand. She looked at him and smiled devilishly. “You ready?” she asked.

“Of course, Elsa,” he replied. The two agents in the front seats didn’t say anything, but Dawson gave them a hard look in the rear view.

“Remember, you go back to the apartment we set up for you on 13--”

“134 Canal Street,” Woody interjected. “We know, Dawson. We’ve been officers of the court for more than a day. We know the drill.”

“Okay, but it’s your butts on the line, you know,” he answered. “And one-way communication. We can hear you, but we can’t say anything to you. You’ll just have to trust us to handle anything you can’t get feedback on.”

“Got it,” Jordan said. Their car pulled to a stop a block ahead of the club. Jordan released Woody’s hand and opened the door. “Let’s go, Michael.”

Woody followed Jordan into the dimly lit club. He watched her move confidently through the crowds to the bar, wondering how he would be able to act as if she was solely his business partner. The strappy purple dress she wore showed off her flawless figure perfectly.

Once they had drinks, the pair scouted the club for their targets, who were reclining at a table in the back of the room. Fortunately, there weren’t any other people at the table, not even the token barely-clothed girls who flocked to guys like that. Jordan nodded towards Woody, indicating that he take the lead.

He walked up to the men and sat down across from them. “How you doing?” he said genially. Then he turned to a waitress. “A couple scotches on the rocks for my friends here.” Jordan coolly took a seat next to Woody and regarded the two men with a calculating stare.

“Who are you?” one of the men, Taylor, said defensively. “You obviously don’t know who we are. You can’t just invite yourselves to our table.”

Woody sipped his drink casually. “Oh, we know exactly who you are. In fact, you come highly recommended by an…acquaintance…of ours.”

The other man, Matthews, snickered. “Right. Suppose we believe you…who is this acquaintance of yours?”

“We’d rather not reveal our contacts,” Jordan supplied, not changing her demeanor.

Matthews gave her the once-over with his eyes. Woody kept his expression neutral, though he wanted to reach over and strangle the man. He needn’t have worried, though. As usual, Jordan could take care of herself.

“You look smarter than that, though I gather you’re not the one in charge” she commented. “This is a business proposition, not a party. You look at me like that again, and you’re going to feel it.”

Woody hid a smile. “Business proposition?” Taylor asked. “What are you talking about?”

“We know you’ve been doing some jobs on the east coast…regarding certain valuable collections,” Woody said. “We want your help on something similar.”

“West coast,” Jordan added. “Interested?”

The Taylor sneered. “With people we don’t even know? Besides, we’re not freelancers. We’re gainfully employed, and we like things just the way they are.”

Woody shrugged, feigning surrender. “Fine by us…we’ll find someone else to do San Francisco.” He and Jordan started to get up.

“Now just hold on,” Taylor relented. He motioned for them to sit down. “Names,” he prompted.

“Michael Donovan,” Woody stated. “And Elsa Ciraolo.” He handed over a very generic business card with his fake name and a phone number. “Check us out…been in the business for years.”

Taylor leaned over and talked quietly to Matthews. The second man got up and left the table. Taylor offered no explanation, but only smiled and sipped his drink.

Matthews came back a few minutes later. “Boss says to bring them,” he said to Taylor.

Taylor got up from the table. “Come.”

Everyone followed him out the back door, and into a large black sedan.