"First"  Part  II
 

"Look at our two lovebirds, Belle," Tom whispered to 
his wife.

"They suit each other, even though she's awfully 
quiet," she replied. "But then again, who can get a word in 
edgewise when Doctor Zimmerman starts speaking?" They both 
laughed quietly.

Soon a card table was occupied, with Harry and Seven 
in attendance to learn the game. Though the players changed, 
the British seemed to win. Harry could practically see 
Seven's brain whirring. She could probably wipe them out 
completely if she decided to play, he thought with pride. 
Suddenly, the friendly chatter was interrupted by Vorik 
coming into the drawing room, blood streaming from a gash in 
his head.

"They have been taken, my lord," was all he managed 
to gasp before he crumpled to the floor.

Seven was standing nearest the door, and she reacted 
swiftly, kneeling at the Vulcan's side to examine him before 
the others had recovered from the initial shock. Her fingers 
pressed to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse, and 
the room held its breath for a second that seemed to stretch 
into an eternity. Then she looked up, and Harry saw a 
grimness in her blue eyes that told him all he needed to 
know. "He is dead." She announced.

It was as though a dam had burst. Everyone reacted, 
the maid screaming in horror, while most of the men 
simultaneously tried to get a better view of the situation 
while shielding their wives, a chorus of voices each 
proposing their own theory on the murder. Harry rushed to 
Seven's side, "Can you tell what happened?"

"It appears to have been blunt cranial trauma... 
skull fracture and severe neural damage. I am surprised that 
he was able to come in here and deliver his warning."

Harry nodded gravely. "So someone hit him over the 
head. He must have caught the person who stole from Lord 
Tuvok and..." A sixth sense came to Harry's attention. A 
sense that something was out of place. He looked around the 
room.

Chakotay was on the telephone with someone named 
"Scotland Yard." Tom's dinner jacket had been unbuttoned, 
and his hand was wavering near the hilt of a small firearm 
worn in a shoulder holster beneath. For a moment, Harry 
wondered why he would have felt the need to be armed at a 
friendly dinner party, then shoved the thought aside. He'd 
deal with that later. B'Elanna stayed near her husband, her 
eye scanning the company with a deep suspicion, but 
strangely, no surprise at the shocking turn of events. The 
Captain was looking out the window, her brow furrowed in 
worry at the drops of rain that were beginning to come 
faster and faster to splatter in wind-driven streaks on the 
glass. As for Lord Tuvok....

Lord Tuvok was quietly making his way around the 
edge of the room, on his way out. Harry stood and grabbed 
the older man's sleeve just before he would have slipped 
past. "Excuse me."

The other man turned, regarding him with the 
characteristic raised eyebrow. "What was he talking about?" 
Harry gestured to the corpse of the young butler, whom Kes 
was just now covering with the tablecloth. "What was taken?"

"Yes, please tell us." It was the Doctor, stepping 
up behind them. Something flickered in Tuvok's eyes - 
annoyance bordering on anger - but then it was gone again. 
His chance to slip away quietly was gone... all eyes were on 
him.

"I am not at liberty to discuss it. Please continue 
with what you are doing. This matter does not concern any of 
you." His words were clipped, precise, and they left no room 
for question or disagreement. Not that he gave anyone chance 
to disagree. Turning quickly, he strode out into the 
hallway. The door shut behind him with the sound of a tomb 
being sealed.

No one said anything. No one breathed.

The silence hung as heavy and thick as the velvet 
drapes, then Tom smiled nervously. "So... who was dealing 
next?"

Awkwardly at first, their actions like mechanical 
dolls instead of people, the players resumed their card 
game, Harry and Seven silently watching, their minds no 
longer on how the game was played, but on another, rather 
more dangerous game that seemed to be playing out. He 
desperately wanted to talk to her privately, but there 
seemed to be an unspoken rule: stay here until Lord Tuvok 
says otherwise.

So they watched. Within the first hand, the 
camaraderie and banter had resumed, the air noticeably 
lighter, even if there was still an undercurrent of tension. 
Tom was winning hand after hand, much to the chagrin of 
Chakotay and the others, as every victory was accompanied by 
some less than subtle national rivalry. Finally, the Doctor 
tossed down his fourth losing hand in disgust.  "Bloody 
Yank." He muttered.

Tom beamed.  "What can I say... I'm just a lucky 
guy." Then Harry saw something change in the blue eyes, and 
he shook his head slightly as he realized just how faithful 
this reproduction of his friend really was. All the way down 
to bad habits. He knew what the hologram was going to say 
before he even opened his mouth, the creator's weakness 
asserting itself in the creation. "Of course, we *could* see 
how lucky I really am."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed.  "Are you referring to a 
wager?"

A predatory look had appeared in the young man's 
blue eyes, and he smiled again, only not quite so 
angelically this time. "That necklace your wife is wearing 
would look lovely on my Belle... if you're willing, of 
course."

Harry shifted nervously, and his eyes met Seven's. 
Something was wrong. In that moment, the hologram had 
changed minutely, from a man he knew like a brother to a 
complete stranger. That chill, that calculating look that 
bordered on malice was something as foreign to the real Tom 
Paris as laughter was to Tuvok. He could see that Seven knew 
it too, and he began to move around the room towards her 
slowly, careful not to attract attention.

The Doctor returned the cool smile. "I am not in the 
habit of losing, Mr. Paris. But I find your wife's taste in 
adornment would not align with mine, so I believe I would 
require cash in return. A friendly wager of course...eight 
hundred pounds, perhaps?"

Several people gasped, but Tom didn't even bat an 
eye as he pulled a small leather book out of his inside 
pocket, opening it to reveal a number of printed paper 
slips. "Would a check suffice, Dr. Zimmerman?"

"Certainly."

Tom smiled and replaced the book. "Of course, I am 
hoping that will be a moot point. Now... I believe it was 
your turn to deal, Mr. Chakotay."

Cards were quickly dealt, and tension was high as 
the game was played. Harry knew that something more had 
happened there than just a simple wager, no matter what the 
financial stakes. There was something between those two 
characters, something that ran far deeper than mere 
nationality. He finally reached Seven's side towards the end 
of the game, taking her gloved hand in his and feeling her 
squeeze it slightly.

He leaned closer whispering in her ear, "Seven, I 
think I saw..."

He was cut off by a shout of triumph and a groan of 
defeat from the card table. "I believe that Mr. Paris has 
won," Seven observed quietly. Indeed, he had.

The young man took a dramatic bow, turning and 
repeating the action several times to take in everyone. 
"Thank you, thank you," he said grandly, then looked towards 
the Doctor, who was looking at him with near-hatred.

"Am I still supposed to believe that was beginner's 
luck?" he asked coldly.

"Maybe it's American good fortune." Tom offered, 
needling the Englishman, "As I recall, we've been constantly 
showing you up from the point we decided to go it alone to 
the last Great War, when you had to call us over so the Huns 
didn't dig trenches right to your front door."

Zimmerman bristled. "That was a foreign policy 
decision. We could have..."

"Like hell you could have!" Tom seemed to be halfway 
between smug and angry now, and Harry could see his own 
concern for the rapidly developing situation mirrored in 
Seven's eyes. "You needed us then, and your damned Limey 
pride is the only thing keeping you from seeing that you're 
going to need us again. Or are you planning on waiting until 
Germany has troops on the front lawn of Windsor?"

He was cut short by a sound as though the heavens 
themselves had been ripped apart, a massive thunderclap that 
echoed through the halls. Harry thought he heard another, 
sharper crack overtop, but he decided that was dying 
electrics as the lights flared for a split second, then 
died, plunging the house into darkness.

There was a strange silence for a moment, then the 
sound of rapid footsteps, broken by shattering glass. Within 
seconds, someone - Chakotay, Harry soon saw - pulled out a 
lighter, its feeble flame seeming like a lighthouse's beacon 
after the utter darkness. It was enough to see faces... 
scared, worried faces for the most part. Enough to see that 
two faces were missing.

Before anyone had a chance to react to that, the 
lights returned, prompting a sigh of relief. That was almost 
immediately replaced by a collective gasp of horror, and the 
hysterical shrieking of the maid. Harry almost turned away, 
but there was a gruesome fascination to the sight, and he 
couldn't help but look, almost unconsciously reaching out to 
wrap a consoling arm around B'Elanna, who was trembling with 
shock that had yet to resolve itself into fear or anger.

Blue eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling in an 
expression of frozen surprise. Tom Paris lay on the floor, 
one hand across his chest as if reaching for his weapon. The 
leather holster hung empty, but the gun had clearly been 
used. Bright red blood soaked his shirtfront, blossoming 
from the bullet wound squarely over his heart. There was no 
need for Seven to make a diagnosis this time. Both the cause 
and the fact of death were obvious.

Almost as if pulled by an invisible tether, all eyes 
scanned the room for Zimmerman, and then heads turned, all 
remembering the footsteps and shattered glass. Sure enough, 
the window had been broken, the wind moving the heavy 
curtains as rain pooled on the floor. The opening was plenty 
large enough for someone to escape, but Harry wondered where 
they would go in this sort of weather. This was truly an old 
English manor, isolated on the lonely moor.
Only Seven seemed unaffected by the horrific turn of events. 
She looked at Harry, "I will locate the authorities for 
assistance."

Still strangely numb, Harry managed to nod.  "That 
sounds like a good idea." Seven moved towards the door, and 
he knelt, forcing himself to remember that this was all a 
holographic simulation as he gently closed Tom's eyes. He 
wondered if this was part of the program. He sincerely 
doubted it. This entire thing had seemed wrong from the 
moment the holographic Tom had smiled before accepting the 
idea of a wager, and Harry decided that he wanted out. Now.

"Computer," he directed, "End program." Nothing 
happened. Harry felt a momentary surge of panic, then forced 
himself to be reasonable. It had probably been designed this 
way... Tom had said that only something like a red alert 
could get them out. But if nothing else, he could always 
leave the old-fashioned way, by getting in their car and 
leaving this place for somewhere safer until the program 
played itself out.

He stood up, intending to follow Seven out the door, 
but he saw that she was still struggling with the knob. "You 
turn it," he explained, walking over to help her, "then pull 
to open it."

She frowned, her eyes showing a trace of fear as she 
looked back at him. "I am aware of how this mechanism 
operates. That is not the source of my difficulty. This door 
is locked."

Harry looked at her in shocked silence. Running his 
hands over the door he tried to locate the locking 
mechanism. "This can't be right," he murmured to her, "there 
has got to be a way out of here."

Suddenly they heard the click of the lock unlatching 
to reveal Tuvok closely followed by Neelix, who carried two 
lit lanterns. Two male household servants, each carrying 
candelabras, and a maid carrying a bundle of cloth, followed 
the two of them.

"I apologize for locking the door," he said to the 
room at large,  "however I did not wish anyone to leave 
until we could remove Captain Paris' body."

B'Elanna looked up from were she knelt over her 
husband's body, his eyes now mercifully closed. Tuvok nodded 
to Neelix, who began instructing the two men accompanying 
him. Respectfully the men wrapped Tom's body in a sheet and 
carried it up the stairs. B'Elanna waved away all efforts to 
comfort her, choosing instead to carry the lantern and lead 
the way.

After the room was cleared, Tuvok spoke again. 
"Telephone service has been interrupted due to the severity 
of the storm. At daybreak I will send someone to town to 
summon the authorities. The lanterns are sufficient to light 
the room while we wait."

"Wait for what?" Mrs. Chakotay asked. "For the 
Doctor to return and finish us off?"

"Louis wouldn't to that..." Kes said, gently weeping 
into a handkerchief. She sat on a settee with Samantha, who 
was trying to soothe the woman's distress.

Chakotay handed her a balloon glass of brandy, "Mrs. 
Zimmerman you should take this, you've had a bit of a 
shock."

Obediently Kes took it in her petite hand and 
proceeded to drain the glass.

"What are we going to do now?" Harry asked.

"As I said," Tuvok repeated, "we wait. I have 
alerted my staff to search for Doctor Zimmerman. Also, I 
will position someone at every bedroom door so that we can 
retire in relative peace."

"You don't expect us to go to sleep after everything 
that's happened?" Mrs. Chakotay asked.

"On the contrary. No good would be served by us 
foregoing sleep to wait until morning. Samantha," he 
addressed his wife, "will you assist Kes?" His wife nodded 
and wrapped her arm around the slightly drowsy woman. "My 
maid will direct you to your bedrooms. Good night." He 
intoned.

"What should we do?" Seven whispered in Harry's ear.

"Follow the maid upstairs." He whispered back. "If 
we get a room we'll be able to talk about what's happened."

She nodded and gracefully holding up her skirt with 
one hand ascended the stairs with him. The maid directed Mr. 
and Mrs. Chakotay to the first room, Harry and Seven to the 
second. Directly across from them were the rooms belonging 
to Captain and Mrs. Paris and Dr. and Mrs. Zimmerman. Lord 
and Lady Tuvok occupied a master suite on the third floor.

Harry nodded at the grooms who stood in alert at 
each door. Opening the door to his room he allowed Seven to 
enter before him. Entering, he surveyed the guestroom 
assigned to them. The room was decorated entirely in blue 
and white toile. Several fine paintings of lovely women in 
period dress hung on the walls. His eyes widened at the 
massive mahogany canopy bed that occupied the center of the 
room. A lantern had been left on an ornate bureau as well as 
a candle on each side table. Seven was moving about the room 
examining the furniture and accessories with childlike 
curiosity. Harry watched while he collected his thoughts. 
Strangely, she did not look out of place in the formal 
surroundings, rather the surroundings did not due justice to 
her beauty. Finally he managed to say, "Seven we need to 
talk."

"I agree," she replied, turning to face him, "should 
we talk about our inability to discontinue the holoprogram? 
The murder of Captain Paris? Or our sleeping arrangements?"

He swallowed. "Tom's murder first. I think if we can 
solve that, the program will end and we won't have to think 
about our sleeping arrangements."

"Very well."

"Maybe we should sit down." Harry said.

Seven sat on the piece of furniture nearest to her, 
the canopy bed. Harry pulled a chair from the writing desk 
and faced her. The flickering candle illuminated her face 
perfectly. Harry drank in her loveliness. As well done as 
the paintings on the walls were, Seven's beauty outshone 
them all. Taking a deep breath he began. "There is something 
that bothers me about this whole program..."

"Beyond the murder of Ensign Paris?" Seven asked 
with a slight curving of her lips.

"Yes, beyond that." He agreed with a smile. "The 
thing that bothers me..." he faltered. "The thing is, it's 
wrong."

"Wrong?" Seven asked. "Elaborate."

"This is Tom's program. He programmed it." He 
repeated. "You saw the way he was acting with he was playing 
cards. He was acting like a villain. Tom would never write a 
program like that. He's always the hero."

Seven nodded, "Captain Proton to the rescue."

"Exactly." Harry said. "I mean it started out right. 
All the characters were right. I know they were mostly 
English and any identifying physical characteristics were 
gone, but they were pretty much themselves."

"Except for Ensign Paris and Lieutenant Torres." 
Seven said.

"That's right." Harry said. "B'Elanna was off also, 
she was almost giggly at first. That was definitely wrong, 
but Tom could have written that in as a joke. It's Tom's 
character that was really bothering me. The way he was 
baiting the Doctor and Chakotay and gambling like that. I 
haven't seen Tom act like that since..." Harry sat back on 
the chair resting his black patent leather shod feet on the 
bed frame, slowly he began to smile. "Seven," he asked. "You 
know everything that's happened on Voyager right?"

"Yes," she said, "I've read all official reports as 
well as the information on the databases."

"Right." Harry said. "You know that three years ago, 
the Captain was trying to find out who was giving 
information to the Kazon. She had Tom go undercover to try 
to get the informant to reveal himself."

"It was Crewman Michael Jonas." Seven said.

"Yes, but what I'm trying to get at is that when Tom 
went undercover he spent a lot of time gambling and defying 
authority. And just generally making himself a pain in 
the...rather annoying."

Seven followed this thoughts with precision, "You 
believe that Ensign Paris is a spy?" Harry nodded. 
"Apparently, he did not program himself as very good one 
since he was killed." Seven observed.

Harry leaned forward placing a hand on her thigh. 
"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Sure?" she said with an arched brow. "Sure that he 
was killed?" Seven repeated. Slowly her eyes brightened with 
excitement. "I did not check his carotid pulse. The cause of 
death appeared obvious."

Harry stood up quickly. Taking her hand he pulled 
her into the hallway. He tried to appear somber as he 
confronted the groom in front of the Paris' door.  
"We'd like to pay our respects to Mrs. Paris." The man 
nodded sympathetically and allowed him to knock on the door.

"Belle," Harry said softly, "Se-Annika and I want to 
see how you're doing."

"Not now, Harry," they heard from the other side of 
the door, "I need to be alone with my husband."

Knocking loudly on the door, Harry raised his voice, 
"Belle, we're not leaving. Thomas was my friend and I'm not 
going anywhere until I say goodbye to him."

"Just a minute." Shortly the door opened to reveal 
B'Elanna clutching a handkerchief to her face. "I'll let you 
have a minute Harry. Then please go,
I want to be alone with my grief."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Seven and 
approached the bed. Tom's body lay covered with a white 
sheet. Looking up at Seven he moved the cloth off his 
friends face. "He looks like he's just sleeping. I almost 
expect him to open his eyes."

Seven nodded, examining Tom's face intently. "It 
appears that Mrs. Paris attempted a final resuscitation 
effort. I detect small amounts of her lip pigment on Captain 
Paris' mouth."

Harry turned a laugh into a cough. "I feel overcome 
by grief." He looked pointedly at an object on the side 
table.  

Obediently, Seven picked it up and responded, "Harry 
perhaps you require some water?" As she passed it over the 
dear departed body of Captain Paris, Harry allowed his 
fingers to slip, and spilled most of the water onto the face 
of the corpse.

The deceased rejoined the ranks of the living 
sputtering and coughing.  "Damn you, Harold, how did 
you know?" He said wiping himself with his shroud. Tom 
motioned B'Elanna over to him. The grieving widow wiped her 
lipstick off his mouth and sat next to him on the bed.

"It doesn't matter how I know." Harry replied. "What 
matters is how you're still alive, and why you faked your 
death."

Tom looked into B'Elanna's eyes, she gave him almost 
imperceptible nod and he began. "As to how I'm still alive, 
the gun was loaded with blanks and I had enough fake blood 
hidden under my dickey to ensure that no one would come 
within ten feet of me. As to why fake my death, we were 
trying to force Zimmerman out into the open."

"The Doctor? I don't understand. What has he done? 
Was he the one that stole something from Tuvok? I mean, Lord 
Tuvok," Harry said quickly.

"It's important you understand what was stolen." Tom 
said seriously.

"I assumed it was jewels or something." Harry 
admitted.

"You assumed wrong," Captain Paris informed him. 
"Old Tuvok, while descended from hundreds of years of 
nobility, has managed to not have the brains entirely bred 
out of him. He is an inventor, specializing in aerodynamics. 
He has been working on an aeroplane that will revolutionize 
the way aerial combat is fought." Smugly Tom added, "I was 
hoping that when the a model was finished I could be the 
test pilot. Anyway, the plans have been stolen by Zimmerman. 
We're sure he's going to offer them to the highest bidder, 
which will either be Germany or Italy. My money's on the 
Huns. With an aeroplane that advanced they would have 
complete superiority in the skies."

Seven joined Harry on the left side of the bed. To 
his surprise her fingers intertwined with his. "I do not 
understand Captain Paris. If you were attempting to 
reacquire the aeroplane plans why did you stage the gambling 
incident?"

"We didn't know what Zimmerman did with the plans. 
We needed to force his hand. Haven't you read your Sherlock 
Holmes?" He asked Seven with a teasing smile. When she shook 
her head he replied. "Elementary, my dear Annika. When a man 
is in fear of his life, he will run to the thing of most 
value to him. Most of the grooms on the grounds are 
operatives working with us. Zimmerman is being followed. I'm 
fairly confident what we'll find when he tries to take them 
back."

"Operatives?" Harry said. "Since when does a Captain 
work with operatives?"

"Since a Captain started working with the Ministry, 
old chap. About four years ago the Ministry offered me the 
chance to do some undercover work for them. Belle jumped at 
the chance to work with me. Poor girl had been a nurse 
during the war and was finding married life to be rather 
dull."

B'Elanna shot her husband a not so loving look as he 
continued, "They knew that people were being approached to 
sell their services to other governments and they wanted to 
find out who was approaching them and what was being sold. 
So here come Thomas and Belle Paris, a lively, socially 
connected couple eager to see and be seen. Isn't that right 
Tuppence my dear?"

"Yes, it is Tommy darling." Mrs. Paris replied with 
a voice as sweet and cold as ice cream.

"Touché, sweetheart." He said pressing a quick kiss 
on her fingertips.

"So what happens now?" Harry asked. "You've got 
Zimmerman on the run. With a little luck he'll reveal where 
he's stashed the plans. Is your job over?"

"Not by a long shot." Tom replied. "Someone here is 
working with Zimmerman. There is no way he could have found 
out about the plans without inside help. Tomorrow after my 
body is transferred the authorities will keep anyone from 
leaving the grounds. We were hoping to find the person, or 
possibly persons, involved before the weekend is over."

"Were hoping?" Seven asked.

"Yes, were." Tom tried to sit up a little straighter 
and winced. "While the reports of my death were greatly 
exaggerated, I'm fairly certain I got a couple of cracked 
ribs from the recoil."

B'Elanna rested her arm on her husband's. "He'll be 
out of commission for several days at least. I've taped it 
up as best I can, but he needs to have a doctor look at it. 
So now Harold it's up to you."

"Me?" Harry said in surprise. "Where do I come into 
this?"

"You're going to have to be bait." Tom told him.

"I don't know if I want to hear this," Harry said 
ruefully, "but go ahead."

"I was planning to." The Captain replied airily. 
"Okay here it is. Tomorrow after everyone is waiting around 
you drop hints that you don't think the government has been 
treating your work with the respect it deserves. Mention 
that you've been working on something that would have great 
use in war. Oh, and you should use your wife too."

Seven exchanged a look of surprise with Harry before 
he said, "Excuse me?"

"Annika here," Tom motioned to the blond woman. 
"Tell them that her family is from Germany and she's been 
pining for the fatherland. They're sure to believe it. Hell, 
she looks like she could be the poster child for the master 
race. No offense." He said to her.

"None taken." Seven replied with a slight curving of 
her lips.

"Look," Captain Paris said seriously, "I realize 
that I just dropped this on you. You don't have to do this. 
You will be putting yourselves in possible danger. Go back 
to your room and talk it over. Give Belle your answer before 
they ship my sorry hide to the hospital."

After saying they're good-byes, Harry and Seven 
entered their room again. Taking a deep breath he lifted her 
hand that was still in his and rested it on his chest. 
"Seven what do you think we should do?"
 

***********

RiF Round Robin Continued HERE