The Chrysalis Project: Steel Dove - The Dove and the Lonely Flute   TIffany's time in New York is coming   to a close but she's itching for   something to do.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

---

 

 
 
 
Chapter 1

'You're on Stand-by. Find something to do.'

Tiffany watched the group of teen girls work through their exercises en pointe while Lyssa's words echoed through her mind. She had been walking out of boredom when she passed the small studio and looked in the window. The next day she returned with her dance bag and spoke to the owner. Tiffany hadn't even needed to drop a name, simply mentioned her graduation of the advanced program at Julliard and her papers for Bolshoi. Lydia had been thrilled but checked out the dancer and came back from the office overjoyed. This was her fourth day overseeing the teen girls.

"Better. Return to Start, " Tiffany said.

Quickly the girls went back across the room and took their starting position. Two days ago they would have collectively groaned, one or two may have even complained. None did as they obeyed the ballerina that instructed them while balancing on the toeboxes of her pointe shoes.

"Again," Tiffany said calmly.

Once more the girls performed the routine, crossing the room then stopped to hold their position. Tiffany then went over and spoke with each girl. She pointed out the flaws she had seen, what needed to be done to correct them then performed beside the girl as she went through it on her own. 'Watch and learn', was her phrase. Most had been to other studios and suffered unending critique without definite instruction. They were liking the new dancer. She didn't tell them nor even show them; she showed then did the movements right along with them. Earlier she had worked a Beginner class. The six year old girls quickly dubbed her Shadow-Tiffany because she had told them to pretend they were her shadow. Each class started and ended with a curtsy to their teacher now. The students enjoyed being under the beautiful blonde's instruction. It was true that she was strict, but she also encouraged and complimented improvement. Finally she closed the class and sent them off. Tiffany could tell the sun was setting outside the window.

"Well. Another improved class. Shadow-Tiffany," A voice said with a chuckle.

Tiffany turned around, "it seems as though I'm already developing my name Lydia."

The studio owner nodded, "an appropriate name. It fits you well. They'll miss you when you finally leave for Bolshoi, but that will inspire them to work at going there themselves."

"If they work hard and save up, it's possible. Dedication can make a lot of things happen," Tiffany remarked then turned and walked back to the window.

Lydia Collins was fascinated by the enigmatic southern dancer. Tiffany Davereaux said she was only acquainted with the Prima Lyssa Kordenay-Mason in passing, yet Lydia didn't think that wasn't exactly true. Tiffany exhibited the same dedication and strength as the Prima. She suspected that Tiffany may actually have already studied under her in secret but was working to make a name for herself completely on her own in the same manner Lyssa had. Tiffany also exuded the same calm confidence Lydia had seen when she met Lyssa herself after a performance in at the Met.

Tiffany stared out the window intently then called to her, "Lydia. Look there."

The older woman joined her at the window and looked out, "where?"

"There. The purple coat," Tiffany indicated.

Lydia nodded, "ah. The flutist. Tuesday through Friday from three-forty to dark. Saturday and Sunday from God knows when til dark. If she's still out there when I leave, I usually drop a couple of dollars in the hat."

"She," Tiffany asked in puzzlement.

Lydia blinked, "The coat is a girl's. The jeans too. To be honest; not many boys play the flute. They prefer trumpets or sax, its more masculine. I assumed that child is a girl. I'm wrong?"

Tiffany stared intently, "posture. The stance. That's a boy Lydia. The clothes may be girls' but in them is a boy. All of that is irrelevant though. What is relevant is why that child is out there in the weather as you say they are. Look carefully. The jeans haven't been washed in some time. See the flexing of the toes? Those shoes are worn and may not be wearing any socks. Constant slow shifting of weight left to right and back; fighting shivers."

"What are you saying," Lydia asked.

Tiffany sighed, "the first winter after Katrina was pretty bad. People that stayed or immediately came back were everywhere doing whatever they could to make money just to eat. A lot of kids had to do the same. They did what they could; they danced, acted, drew or painted. If they had an instrument, they played. Some even formed small bands if they were friends and split the money. So many had nothing. Not even the clothing to stay warm enough. I saw the boys do that. The girls stood with their feet together, knees flexed and leaning forward slightly. That child is homeless, or no better than. N'awlins is tough on people yeah. She bring out best; and worst. Big Easy was name give by rich. Was easy, for them."

"My god. That sounds so horrible. Were you one of those kids," Lydia asked.

Tiffany shook her head, "no. We were lucky. We did what we could to help though. I graduate early but still underage. Best lie ever heard came from after Katrina. Young woman; lost her home. Husband and baby took by the storm. Somebody raped her in the Dome and took the only thing of value she had left, wedding ring. Stupid news crew interview in a FEMA park. Not allowed to say anything negative. Told reporter 'she felt blessed'. Two days later found raped again and throat cut."

"And that child? What should we do," Lydia asked.

"Wait and see. Don't do anything unless I do, then just back me up. New York's social services doesn't have the best of reputations. We make the wrong move and things can get worse. Like the man say; do it yourself or don't do at all," Tiffany said.

Lydia frowned, "are you sure about that? What can be worse than playing a flute on the street to make enough money just to eat?"

Tiffany didn't even take her eyes off the child they were discussing, "having that flute taken away, being locked up in a group home, beaten by its other denizens and not eating at all for starters. Your imagination probably wouldn't be able to grasp what else can go on in those places. I heard stories yeah."

"You don't mean sexual assaults too," Lydia asked fearfully.

Tiffany looked at her finally, "child looks to be about somewhere between 11 and 13. Kids that don't get adopted and stay clean enough to not get caught will stay until they turn eighteen. Its easy to prey on the younger ones. If a boy showed up and was wearing obvious girls' clothing; what DO you think would happen? Tea parties and plushies? Not on your life."

Lydia was surprised. Tiffany's neutral accent had begun to slip and she had begun to speak with a slight french inflection, especially when she was talking about what had went on in New Orleans. Lydia was sure that Tiffany had more stories and they were less appealing than the ones she had just shared.

"Well that was the last class," Lydia said then went to her office and began turning out lights.

Tiffany changed her pointe shoes for boots and slipped on her coat. Tiffany preceded Lydia out then lingered after the woman left and walked down to where the child they had both been talking about was. Tiffany stood back a ways and listened. The playing was good, but with subtle flaws. As if self-taught. Every sixth or seventh person dropped some change into the hat on the pavement with a piece of notebook paper standing up that said 'Thank you.' Tiffany walked over and stood listening. The face was that of a boy, though somewhat effeminate. He looked up as he played and Tiffany nodded to continue.

After a moment Tiffany asked, "can you play Fur Elise?"

The boy made no answer, other than to start playing it. Apparently it was one that had been learned early on and played often. Tiffany looked down into the hat. There were a few dollars and a large handful of change inside.

"Looks like maybe nine bucks," Tiffany estimated then reached into her coat pocket. She flashed two twenties and put them in the hat, "Go get warm somewhere. See you tomorrow. Elise."

The boy had watched what she did and now the very intent look she gave. It was kind but firm. A look that asked instead of ordered to be obeyed. Without a word he nodded. Tiffany watched as the flute was taken apart and slipped into a worn case and tucked inside the jacket along with the hat after the money was gathered up and pocketed. Tiffany watched him walk away, in a direction she knew had places to eat. She went in the opposite direction to a coffee shop and waited an hour then passed back through on her way back to her building. She was surprised to not see the flutist, but continued on.

 

~o~O~o~
 

'She thought I was a girl and gave me forty bucks! She called me Elise,' he thought to himself happily.

He had immediately went down to Flannigan's. The old man was surprised when he ordered two plates of the special and ate them quickly. No soft drinks, just coffee and water. If he was sneaky enough he would be able to run into one of the corner stores along the way to school and buy something for breakfast for the rest of the week. Maybe even eat good over the weekend too!

He stopped at subway station and went to the lockers. Quickly a crude backpack was retrieved from a locker and he ducked into a bathroom and changed. With some of the change he paid for another week of the locker rental and hid the clothes, flute and all but four dollars of change in dimes and nickels inside then concealed the key. Outside he felt the cold even more through the worn jeans and ragged hoody. The ancient imitation converse sneakers would need to be taped again to keep most of the wet slush out. He waited until after eight-thirty then left. Fifteen minutes later he trudged across the street and walked up to the house and let himself in. He had stopped at the corner and hid two dollars and some change behind a loose brick in a wall.

Inside the temperature was only slightly higher than outside. He knew that probably wasn't true, only that there was no wind.

"THE HELL YOU BEEN," a voice called out.

The owner of the voice stomped up and grabbed him.

"Better have SOMETHIN' as long as you been gone," the woman demanded.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the change to show, "I got a dollar and sixty-three cents. Was all I could find in the park."

She snatched it out of his hand, "took your sweet time gettin' it! Too late for any dinner. Go to bed!"

He turned to go upstairs but she called out.

"Not upstairs! Go to the basement. You didn't EARN enough for upstairs," she said angrily.

He turned and started to head for the small door leading to the basement but she stopped him again.

"Five more minutes and I'da locked up for the night. What d'ya say," she demanded.

Very carefully he answered, "thank you Mrs. Deaver for letting me sleep inside tonight."

Mrs. Deaver nodded, "you remember that. All you are is a check, whatever the fuck your name is."

He knew not to remind her that he did have a name, nor what it is. He simply went downstairs to the cold basement. Three other boys were already there and huddled under a shared blanket that was no more than a thick sheet. A moment later he heard the door being locked. He wouldn't be able to sneak upstairs to clean up. He hadn't been able to since Sunday night, a cold shower enough to get the worst of the grime off. The three older boys always slept upstairs and took a hot shower every night. They usually stole money from the kids at school but had gotten caught. Now they extorted money at a nearby park. He suspected that they may have even started selling some drugs.

He pulled a sheet of plastic from its hiding space and wrapped it around, leaving only his face poking out. Maybe the coach would let him sneak a shower after class since it was the last of the day.

Once more he smiled and whispered softly to himself, "she called me Elise. She thought I was a girl.One day I will be. One day I'll be free and the first thing I'll do is be a girl then I'll come back. I'll find a way to get Deavers busted and burn this place to the ground."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Dannigan sat back in his chair and read the message traffic. New York was quiet for now. Colorado was heating up. Lyssa was dealing with the CIA's clusterfuck in the southern states. Shawna was on a one hour recall in case she was needed to go to either location and everyone else was on Ram's Rock Island. He liked the idea that Tiffany was helping out at a local studio. It kept her standards up and gave her more social experience. He wasn't worried about any of them. Currently there was only one minor irritation. Deputy Marshal David Earp, of the Toledo Ohio office. Kimberly had informed him that Earp was quietly fielding questions about him.

Dannigan had read the files on the Deputy Marshal. He'd been an exemplary Marine with a Force Recon platoon. Naval Intelligence did note that he had come back from an intel detail for the CIA very angry. The debrief could have been censored considering all the profanity he used in regards to the conduct of the Company handlers. It wasn't surprising, they are the CIA.

"You demand to come to the dance and you bitch about the music. You're in for a very rude awakening Earp. You haven't smoked out all your rats and roaches. I'll have to remind you how precarious your position really is before I tell you how to save your own ass, " Dannigan said in a tired voice. "At least Lyssa gets to vent her aggravation."

The big Spook secured and shut down his computer then made his way out for the night. After going through the tunnel that connected to the subway service tunnel and coming out five blocks away he acted casual while scanning his car for foreign devices then got in and left.

 

---

---

 
Chapter 2

Tiffany finished getting dressed to leave. She was wearing dancewear but had a change of clothing tucked into her dance bag. She also slipped in a nightscope and miniature hyperbolic microphone. The barrette in her hair contained lock-picks, not a complete set but the seven most frequently used. It also housed a Tungsten-carbide knife blade. The inside of her right boot concealed a carbon-fiber version of the Fairbarne-Sikes Commando knife. Inside the concealed pocket of her coat she checked the *model-46 Glock. It was a new model that was in limited supply. It held five nine millimeter rounds in the clip and one in the chamber. To make up for the small caliber she loaded with jacketed hollowpoints.

Being armed was good. Being armed with such a small caliber and low capacity was a risky gamble. Tiffany knew it wasn't much of stretch to shrug off the rounds and keep coming. Tiffany had seen Insurgents shrug off multiple assault rifle rounds and continue to charge in wearing suicide packs. However Lyssa had taught her that going for the killshot sometimes had to come second. When using low caliber rounds it was more important to immobilize the target and then go for the killshot. Also more and more nefarious types were discovering the value of body armor. Tiffany had laughed when Lyssa reminded them that even if the target wore the thickest trauma plate in production they were still vulnerable to a round aimed at the hip joint and they would drop immediately. It was very difficult to stay on the offensive when any move to try was met with excruciating pain. A final check in the mirror and she left.

"Tiffany. I've been thinking about that girl, or boy. We should call social services. They can help. That's their job," Lydia said.

Tiffany gave her a look of disgust, "yes Lydia. Please do call SOMEONE ELSE to deal with the unsightly trash. Heaven forbid you do something yourself. By all means, do PASS THE BUCK so you don't have to lift a finger to do something right that may actually help."

Lydia's jaw dropped in response at Tiffany's statement.

Tiffany turned away and used an over-exaggerated walk along with a falsetto voice, "I'll call the juvenile authorities. Its their job to deal with problem children, I mean, children with problems. As long as I don't see them anymore, I did the right thing. They've been dealt with, I mean, taken care of. Right? Of course I am! The only children I really need to show actual concern for are the ones that pay for me to see them you know. All is right, in MY world."

"I'M NOT THAT SHALLOW," Lydia protested.

Tiffany glanced over her shoulder at her, "oh? Our conversational subject just took their place right over there. Here's your chance. Go ask what causes her or him to stand there everyday playing for money in the freezing cold."

Tiffany had wished there was third party in the mix, she could have placed a bet on Lydia's reaction to the challenge and won.

Lydia shrank back and shook her head, "no I don't think."

"That's right Lydia. You don't think. Gave you opportunity and you ran away. 'No no no, I don't like bad things coming into my world. I'm not able to make a serious decision.' As I said; do it yourself or don't do it at all. Since you CAN'T, I will Lydia. Don't interfere," Tiffany commanded.

"What are you going to do," Lydia asked meekly.

Tiffany stepped closer, "that's not your concern. You've already cowardly expressed that you don't want to involve yourself, so don't. What happens is now MY business."

Lydia wanted to cringe, "Tiffany?"

The dance studio owner wanted to shrink away. Go to her office and take refuge. She had never been so intimidated before. In her opinion, the southern ballerina could give lessons to the mob. Slowly she nodded.

"The students are coming in. Shall we concern ourselves with them and I will concern myself with other things in their due course or do I need to go now because you can't be trusted," Tiffany asked pointedly and went back to the window.

"I'll do as you wish Tiffany. Do you really think I'm cowardly," Lydia asked.

Tiffany continued to look outside, "more often than not, its not what is done that determines cowardice; its the motivation. Why is more important than what. You can't help someone just by passing the buck because you won't even try. You want to call Juvenile without even determining if there really is a problem. If there is a problem, what is it? If you do find the problem, can you solve it? If you can solve the problem, how do you? If you can't solve the problem, who can? If there is someone who can, how can they do it that actually helps? All that sounds so overwhelming to you. I can see it in your eyes Lydia. You have your answer as to what you should do. Nothing. You had no intention of seeing things through. That is a person out there, not one of those missiles the military uses. Set it off and forget anything ever took place. That's unacceptable. Leave this to me. I will see it through."

Lydia nodded and went to greet the girls. She knew Tiffany was right and called her out on it. She wouldn't have had a second thought about the child after she called the juvenile authorities. She'd quickly forget all about it. Faced with that fact she saw the truth, it would have been cowardly. Lydia felt guilty and ashamed. She also felt that if Tiffany ever said goodbye to her it would be the last time she would ever speak to her personally. She focused on her group of girls while Tiffany oversaw the other. They did so for three hours then Tiffany went and changed. Lydia noted the firm look in her eyes as Tiffany nodded to her on the way out.

He had been playing for a while now and made some good money. Then she stepped into view. The woman from yesterday. For some strange reason she looked as if the cold wasn't affecting her. The other women were moving by, huddling in their coats, but not her. She wore a coat yes, but she was standing casually looking at him. He stopped playing.

"Hello again. My name is Tiffany. What's your name," she asked.

"Elise? Is that ok," he asked.

Tiffany shrugged, "that would be up to you. I'll call you whatever you want, just as long as it's not 'hey kid'."

Elise laughed.

"I was going to go have some coffee. Would you like to join me? I'll spring for a hot chocolate," Tiffany offered.

Elise regarded her warily, "you talk funny. What would I have to do?"

Tiffany looked serious, "its kind of tough. You might not be able to handle it. You have to sit inside at a table for maybe an hour."

"Is it a strange place," Elise asked.

Tiffany turned around and pointed, "right over there. I been in there before. Its kind of strange to me. The people talk funny."

The kid rolled his eyes, "no they don't. I been in there before."

Tiffany looked impressed, "yeah? Well then maybe you should order for us, so they don't make a big deal about me. You up for that?"

He nodded, "ok. Just don't get weird."

Tiffany watched him pick up his stuff and join her, "I'm not weird; I'm southern! I've always depended upon the kindness o' strangers. And since I'm so kind, let's go see if we can find somebody stranger."

They walked in and sat at a table. Tiffany immediately detected that though her companion's clothing needed cleaning, he himself looked recently bathed. Also there was a the heavy scent of deodorant, the aerosol kind. A woman came over and Tiffany had him order for himself then she gave her own order. The fun part was that she had done so in perfect Russian.

Elise looked at her shock, "I thought you said you were southern."

"I am. That doesn't mean I can't know more than one language," Tiffany said.

"How many do you know," Elise asked.

Tiffany smiled, "count 'em up. English, Cajun French, French, German, Danish, Dutch, Swedish, Norwegian, Spanish, Portuguese, Brazilian Portuguese, Greek, Italian, Russian, Four dialects of Arabic, Japanese, Korean and Chinese. Mandarin Chinese."

Elise sat there slack-jaw, "no way!"

The waitress came back and gave them the cups.

"Thank you Sveta," Tiffany said casually then in English, "thank you Sveta."

Sveta smiled, "You're Russian is very good. You are Shadow Tiffany, nyet?"

Tiffany nodded, "You know me?"

Sveta nodded, "oh yes! The girls come in chatter happily about Shadow-Tiffany and hope to go to Bolshoi too. They say you will be Prima like the Ghost Legend."

"Maybe one day. Perhaps I will meet her too," Tiffany smiled, "do you dance?"

"Not anymore. My ankle was broken in a fall. I slipped on ice. I have seen her dance. The girls say you are much like her. Enjoy your drinks," Sveta told her then went to her other customers.

Elise looked at Tiffany in awe, "you really speak all those languages?"

Tiffany gave a half nod, "sure. I need to. I dance all over the world. I model too. Knowing how to speak the local language is good. Knowing how to speak the local language LIKE a local is even better. It helps when you're not around the people you work for and sometimes when they are. You won't get tricked and you can even help them not get tricked either."

"Tricked how," Elise asked.

Tiffany thought for a minute then said, "cab drivers. If you sound like a local when you tell them where you want to go, they take you right there. If they know for sure you're a foreigner then they may want to drive you around a few miles to run up the fare. It's a good idea to be able to read and write those languages too so you know what the signs say."

Elise thought about that then nodded, "ok. That does sound smart. So you know you aren't going in circles."

"That's right. A long time ago Clint Eastwood did a movie here in New York. A cab driver is taking him somewhere and Clint asks him how many stores named Bloomingdales' are there in New York. The driver says, one. Why? Clint says because we passed it three times. The cabbie knew Clint knew he was running the meter up and went on ahead and took him where he wanted to go," Tiffany said.

"The Dirty Harry guy," Elise asked.

Tiffany nodded and chuckled, "yeah the Dirty Harry guy. The movie he did here was called Coogan's Bluff. It wasn't a Dirty Harry movie."

"I saw the 'go ahead make my day' movie a long time ago. It was on a tv in a store," Elise remarked.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question," Tiffany asked.

Elise became wary again, " I guess so."

Tiffany grew serious, "are you liking the hot chocolate?"

Elise blinked, "huh?"

"The hot chocolate. Do you like it? I'm going to get another coffee and if you liked the hot chocolate I'll get you another. I have to know the truth though. It's a serious and highly personal question," Tiffany said gravely.

Elise felt totally blind-sided and looked at the empty cup, "uh yeah. Its good."

Tiffany looked over to Sveta then motioned to the two of them. Sveta nodded and brought fresh drinks.

"You act like you weren't certain you wanted to share that information with me," Tiffany commented. "I thought it was fair. Information is only worth what pays for it. A cup of hot chocolate should be worth how it tastes. Right?"

Elise frowned, "I thought you were going to ask something else."

Tiffany shrugged, "I'll admit there are times I need to know things. I've bought information before. I might even buy some from you. Mind you now; if I want common knowledge I'll spend the two bucks for The Times or The Journal. I buy real information."

The street kid sat and thought about that. Tiffany reached into her purse and pulled out three dollars and set it under her mug.

"A fair question for three bucks? How long have you played the flute," Tiffany asked.

Elise nodded, "about six months. I found it at a sidewalk sale. I was looking for something that I could pawn and found it with a book. I decided to keep it and learn to play. I'm glad I did. A pawn guy said he'd only give me twenty bucks for it. I made more than that after I could play four songs."

Tiffany lifted her cup to drink and nodded to the money. Elise gingerly reached over and took it slowly. Tiffany nodded that he could keep it then reached and took out a twenty to slide under her cup.

"Twenty. Why," Tiffany asked.

Elise regarded her, "forty?"

Tiffany pulled another twenty and added a ten," for fifty I'm buying your name too."

She watched him debate then cautiously lean forward, "Charlie."

Tiffany shook her head, "half don't work. All or none. Fifty bucks for your name and why you're playing for money on the street."

"Charlie Vickers. I play so I make money to eat and save up to get out of here," Charlie said.

Tiffany moved the money forward then picked up her cup to drink, "vague but I'll take it for fifty bucks."

She watched as Charlie looked at the money in his hand then said, "I'm an orphan. I don't have foster parents or anything like that."

"Group home," Tiffany asked.

Charlie nodded.

Tiffany nodded back, "fair enough."

She knew he now understood the charade. He would be absolved of any reservation or guilt if she paid for the answers. He wouldn't feel set up if she was paying him. She knew he had, and wanted, to tell more.

"What would I have to pay to ask a question," Charlie asked.

Tiffany was looking into her cup as if there were answers in the coffee too, "depends on the question."

"Why are you asking me all this," Charlie asked.

"Get us both a refill and I'll tell you," Tiffany said and emptied her cup.

Charlie turned around and saw Sveta look over a moment later. He signaled the same way Tiffany had and she nodded back.

Sveta smiled when charlie handed her the ten for their drinks, "ah. Now you pay? This is fun."

Tiffany gave her an bland smile then gave a cryptic reply, "notes through the curtain."

Sveta understood immediately. She remembered from before the fall and understood the old reference of gathering information. She nodded and casually walked away.

"Some time ago a big hurricane hit New Orleans. I saw a lot of things happen after that. I saw kids doing like you do. My family and me, we did what we could to help. I see you. I want to help if I can. I know that kids in the system don't get a fair deal. I can't tell that's what's going on with you. If that answers your question I have a simple one for you but I want it for free since you can answer in one word. Has to be the truth though," Tiffany said.

Charlie sighed, "ok."

Tiffany looked intently, "are you just money to them?"

Charlie twitched as if stung or shocked then nodded.

Tiffany went for it, "for dinner and a hundred bucks I want to know everything."

"Will you help me? Can you get me out of there," Charlie asked.

Tiffany heard the desperation and stared intently, "If I can I will. What you tell me will determine that. I want my money's worth. When I say everything, I mean everything. Holding out or lying will have repercussions. That's the deal."

Charlie thought quietly and after five minutes he said, "deal."

Tiffany nodded, "let's go eat."

Ten minutes later they were sitting in the back room of a small restaurant that didn't advertise with a name.

Tiffany set five twenties on the table, "ok. Talk and eat."

"My parents got killed two years ago. They went to the movies and I was with a sitter. Some crackhead mugged them coming out. He shot 'em both. Dad didn't make it to the hospital. Mom died in there. Mom and Dad both knew I like girl stuff. I got sent to a group home. That night. The lady there saw I had girl clothes in my bag and reported it. The worker took me to another one but wouldn't let me have my stuff. He told the people there that I had problems. They were bible nuts. They started doing the praying thing. I went to church on Sundays with my parents and i told them that. I even told them I which one I went. They said I couldn't go there anymore because it wasn't a real church," Charlie told her.

Tiffany sighed, "which one did you go to and which one did they?"

Charlie drank some water then answered, "I went to a Methodist church. They went to a Catholic one. I told them they were lying. They spanked me for it. I said God was God and he doesn't like it when people force other people to worship a way they don't want to. They taught us that in school. That's why the pilgrims came. To have their churches. They said no it was because it was to spread the one true way of God. I dared 'em to prove it in a history book. They spanked me again and told me to pray their way for forgiveness so when they took me to the church in the morning I could be baptized the right way. At the church I ran away and went to my church. The reverend called the police and social services. The same guy came to get me. He argued with the reverend and when told the cops that he was trying to molest me. He didn't know one of the cops was friends with the reverend. The cop told him he would arrest him for lying about that. Some important people came and the people I got sent to were brought in too."

"I bet that went over real well. Keep going," Tiffany remarked.

"They kept arguing back and forth. Finally i screamed why wouldn't anybody listen to me. Everybody shut up then. I told them everything that happened. And i asked why couldn't I believe in God and go to the church I had been, there's a law about it, right? One of the ladies said yes there is. Then I said then they can't say the methodist church isn't real and make me go to their church. I then asked why the social service man took away my clothes and stuff and wouldn't give them back. That's stealing right? The cops said yes. So then I asked if it was against the law to like girl things. They said no it wasn't against the law, but they didn't think it might be right. So I said but I know it's right and since it's me I know better than they do because they don't know me at all so they shouldn't be telling me that it's wrong. I told them that Mom and Dad had already talked to a doctor about me and I was supposed to go in a few days," he informed her.

Tiffany motioned for him to use his napkin which he did, sipped the water again and continued, "so they said ok until the doctor says what to do things would just be temporary. The man took me to where I am now. The Deavers'. I never went to the doctor. He never came to get me. When I called he told Mrs. Deaver. She locked me in the basement closet for the whole weekend. I called trying to get the man in charge. I told them my name and why I was calling. The worker showed up and told Mrs. Deaver. That was a Monday morning. She took me back downstairs and put me back in the closet and he shouted through the door not to call anymore or he would send me to the Juvenile Hall. She kept me in there til Wednesday night and brought me some crackers that were stale. The kind you get at the diner. She gave me some of them then locked me back in til Friday. Then she took pictures of me. An hour later she said that she sent them in saying that I had run away but they found me. Now I was a problem case and if I complained again I'd go to juvie with all the really bad kids."

"Slick. Scuzzy, but slick. So what's going on now," Tiffany asked between bites of food.

Charlie sighed, "If we're not in school we have to go out and make money. The ones that bring in the most money get to sleep in the bedrooms upstairs and first pick of clothes and showers. There's four bedrooms. Two of the boys are sixteen, one's fifteen, one's fourteen, then me, I'm twelve now, two boys are ten and one's nine. The four of us have to sleep in the basement. Basically she makes something for dinner whenever she doesn't feel like waiting anymore and she and Mr. Deavers eat. After that the four older boys eat almost all of it and the three younger get the scraps. I make as much as I can so I can eat. On Sundays I take the younger boys to my church and we eat there. They stay there all day and I go try to make money. The reverend makes sure they get fed. He also lets us use a shower that's there and gets us clean clothes sometimes. A couple of times a week we can sneak showers at our schools. I don't let her get all the money I earn. Only a little bit. Just enough to keep her from locking me up or hitting me. I'm just a check to her. She doesn't even know my name."

Tiffany nodded, "ok and the social services guy. Does he come around?"

Charlie shook his head, "only if he gets a complaint or to remind her to pay him."

Tiffany listened as Charlie went into detail about the house and asked some pointed questions. Some time during that she produced a notepad and pen and he drew it out. He also told her of the comings and goings of everyone, adding a disclaimer that things may have changed in the last few months. Tiffany asked the details about the social worker and wrote them down as well. She even included a note of Charlie's suspicions of the older boys possibly selling drugs.

"Oh. I almost forgot. If Mrs. Deaver isn't in her office room she sets her computer to record everything and turns off the screen. When she comes back she watches whatever happened in there. One of the younger boys had a teacher come visit. He had been going to a special school. When the teacher left she went in and watched the video. I had been in the backyard cleaning and came in. I was about to walk by and heard it. She punished him for telling things she had done to his teacher. I told them what I had found out. If somebody comes to visit we tell them we won't talk inside the house at all. My teacher had come by once after that happened. Mrs. Deaver said use her office and she went in. I wouldn't say anything but kept glancing at the screen. She caught on and called Mrs. Deaver in. She asked Mrs. Deaver if it really was private if we talk in there. Mrs. Deaver said because it was something important, we had privacy in there. So my teacher said wonderful then turned on the computer screen saying she needed to log into a website for me. The recording thing was up and there we were. She looked at her and said I guess privacy is open to interpretation and we'd save any talks for at school from now on. She'd also be telling all the other teachers to do the same," Charlie said.

"How long did she lock you up for that one," Tiffany asked.

Charlie smiled, "there was no proof I did anything. She actually bought it. The school doesn't even deal with her anymore. If there's something the teacher or principal can do they just do it. Especially if it involves money. They made the social worker sign the forms for our lunches right there in the Principal's office. School supplies too. Instead of an elective we get a study hall in the library to do our homework so we don't have to take our stuff home. The older boys will trash our stuff or steal it."

They had finished the meal so Tiffany paid their check. After they walked outside and moved a fair distance.

"Two questions. Can you and the other boys get out of the basement if you want," Tiffany asked.

"Yeah. Once she locks the door she doesn't open it again until its time for us to go to school. She checks it while we're at school to make sure we're not hiding anything down there," Charlie answered.

Tiffany nodded, "ok. Take them to get something to eat after locking the door. Second question; can you hold out for another week?"

"After the money you paid me tonight I can. Why," Charlie asked.

"You'll know why when things happen. It won't happen overnight because there's a lot to do and it has to stick like superglue. Can you memorize a phone number fast," Tiffany asked.

Charlie shook his head, "no but I hide all this stuff in a safe place and they don't know where."

Tiffany took out a business card, "If something bad happens; call me. Otherwise just sit back and wait. Pay attention. Find another place to play your flute. The ballet studio owner wanted to call Social Services. I told her no. If you are there tomorrow she'll ignore me and do it. So play your flute away from the studio's line of sight and I'll meet you at the coffee shop after it closes. Just keep doing what you have been. Act natural. Feed the younger boys tonight. Tomorrow I'll have some things for them. Got it?"

"Got it," Charlie said, "please be for real."

Tiffany looked at him then reached into her purse one more time and pressed something into his hand, "there's three hundred dollars. I'm paying you to trust me."

Charlie looked like he was about to cry, "Miss Tiffany, if you can get me and the three younger boys into a better place I'll give you every dollar back you gave me and work to pay you double that!"

"You won't have to do that. If there is trouble get yourself and the younger boys to your church then call me. Understand," Tiffany asked.

Charlie nodded, "yes Ma'am."

Tiffany nodded firmly, "on your way."

Charlie left, not knowing that Tiffany had slipped two tracking dots on him. One on his jacket and one into his hair. Forty minutes later she stood in some shadows across the street aiming the hypermike at a window. Using her nightscope she could see the alarm system warning sticker on the front door. It was one of the standard commercial services. She doubted it was actually connected to the monitoring system. More likely it was used to detect anyone trying to go out the main points. Half an hour later the downstairs lights went off. Fifteen minutes after that she saw four small figures slipping through the yard and returned less than an hour later in high spirits. After the upstairs lights went out she went over and looked through the windows with the scope. She saw on an interior door a sensor. That was probably to the basement. There was no sensor on the door to the room with a computer in it but there was on the window. The discussion she heard from the upstairs bedrooms was enlightening. Charlie's suspicions were right. Two of the older boys were selling marijuana and about to begin selling crack that weekend. The other two picking pockets on the subways. The woman would be going to the racetrack at ten in the morning. Not long after everyone settled down to sleep.

Tiffany left and came back to mount a small wireless camera to look through a window. It was easy to use her laptop to wirelessly hack into the woman's computer. It only took ten minutes to crack her password. The woman made things even easier by using online bill pay and banking. She used different banks though. One for each of the boys' checks then one for herself. Those accounts were very low. Tiffany found out why. She was transferring the money into multiple paypal accounts. Tiffany downloaded a folder of video files. They were all concerning the social worker. Tiffany also saw that her intuition had been right. The alarm system was not connected to the monitoring service. It was more for keeping the kids in than intruders out. Tiffany wanted to laugh when she found a document with all the woman's passwords for everything. It was easy to determine the woman's web history. Too bad she checked everything everyday. When the time came, Tiffany would have to move fast.

 

---

---

 
Chapter 3

Charlie was wondering what the woman named Tiffany was going to do. She had really surprised him so far. The night after she had taken him to dinner he opened the basement window to sneak out with the other boys and found a bag waiting for him. Inside the bag were four of those Army food bag packs with instructions how to use them and four tarp-like things that were shiny inside. The instructions also said there was a cellphone that would ring thirty minutes earlier than they usually woke up and to pack everything back into the bag and put it back outside. The other boys were confused but followed the instructions. Fed and warm they slept better than they had in months. When they went outside to leave for school the next morning the bag was gone, only to reappear that night with a note asking for each boy's name and clothing sizes.

When the other boys asked where everything was coming from Charlie shrugged, "I can't tell what I don't know. Let's just keep quiet and enjoy what we are getting. If we do maybe we'll get more?"

 

~o~O~o~
 

Kent Dalton smiled, "Good morning Tiffany. Please come in. May I offer you some coffee?"

"That would be very nice Kent, thank you. I do apologize for insisting at such an early appointment," Tiffany said to the Fixer as he took her hand.

Kent kissed her hand and smiled, "not at all. I've enjoying providing for you. How would like your coffee?"

Tiffany was surprised that instead of going to his desk, he led her over to a set of matching sofas with a low table between them and took a seat beside her and poured the coffee himself.

Tiffany inhaled the fragrance of the coffee and smiled, "Kona? Lovely Kent. Perhaps you would like to try a Jamaican blend sometime. Personally I'd recommend you make inquiries about getting Mello Joy. Its from New Orleans and very nice."

Kent reached down and made note on the pad at the corner of the table, "Actually I have been invited to attend Mardi Gras this year. I'll add it to my list. Along with any other of YOUR recommendations."

"I'll provide you with a ten list later on; sure to please a cultural aficionado Kent," Tiffany chuckled.

"Oh I'd LOVE that! Now, how may I help you today," the slick New Yorker asked.

Tiffany became all business, "I have some rather bizarre requests. There will be some cash payments involved for some parts of it. For your part I've already made payment in the usual fashion. Kent. I'm going to be asking for some very strange things."

Kent chuckled, "puzzles! This should be rather intriguing. Please go on."

Tiffany reached into her purse and took out a plain brown envelope and handed it to him. Kent opened it to find a page of instructions, two other envelopes, a packet of money of various low denominations and a bundle of crisp and clean one hundred dollar bills. Kent read the instructions, occasionally tilting his head in confusion.

"Tiffany I think I should assign you some sort of prize for the strangest request to date. If I were to look at this from an overview, I'd think you wanted someone to get very much into serious trouble," Kent said.

Tiffany sipped her coffee, "actually that's EXACTLY what I want. You can relax though. Rest assured, it's nobody you know or care about. In fact they'll actually deserve what happens to them, and much more. I do however need my instructions carried out to the exact letter to prevent other parties from becoming involved. I want this very confined. Do you have any objections?"

"Just a question. Why do you want this detective involved. He doesn't like you very much I'm told. This could be considered a favor in some circles. For him. Are you trying to make things up to him," Kent asked.

Tiffany laughed, "honestly, I don't like him. However I can just about imagine how his temper has been for some time now. Its exactly that temperament I want. He will jump all over this like a Hurricane in the Gulf bouncing off the Yucatan."

Kent shook his head, "I'll admit I have no idea what that means, but it SOUNDS really bad."

"Ok. A quick course in Bad Cloud one-oh-one. Storms that go into the Gulf of Mexico get stronger there. Islands, like the Bahamas and so on, give it traction and can change its direction. So a category 1 hurricane goes into the gulf and turns into a two or three. It marches across and hit the Yucatan and ricochets like a bullet or like a billiard ball and goes back into the gulf and heads north. This will make it intensify from that 2 or 3 to a 4 or 5 now and sending it slamming into the coast," Tiffany explained.

Kent sat raptly paying attention, "this may sound morbid, but that's fascinating how it works."

Tiffany nodded, "sometimes though strange things happen. Let's say a small, fast moving high pressure system is coming out of the north at the same time. True story; a category 1 was charging the Louisiana coast after walking into the gulf. that pressure system made it back off. You'd think that was good, but its not. It sat and intensified for a day and a half then charged the coast again. Another front was right behind the first one and sent it back to sit for another day. It sat and built up to a category 4 then ran ashore but was diverted at the last six hours and came ashore at the Florida panhandle. It made a very big mess."

The Fixer sat back, "I believe you just educated me far better than a meteorologist could, in half the time and I understood everything you said."

"You're welcome. About my little puzzle; will I be accommodated," Tiffany asked.

Kent smiled, "Of course. This should be quite interesting. Its a diversion from the usual goings-on of this nature to say the least. Some would probably even find it entertaining. This should all be ready for you by tomorrow evening."

"Excellent. MOST appreciated Kent. I'll be on my way then. Have a wonderful day," Tiffany said then stood up.

Kent walked with her to the door, "after such a puzzling morning I worry the rest of my day will be absolutely boring!"

Tiffany chuckled as he kissed her hand again then left.

Kent sat at his desk and chuckled to himself, "what a puzzle you are. I'm beginning to wonder if I should perform your little requests just to see what happens. one thing for certain; you are NOT boring Tiffany."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Late that night Tiffany eased down the side of a building and slipped in through an unlatched window of an office. Normally in New York you could just slip in through a door. This however was the social services building. They had cameras at each door on the inside and out along with cameras watching the sidewalks all the way around. She had gained roof access three buildings away and was able to move across to the one she wanted then rappel down to that window. There was a guard in the lobby but on the upper floors she had free rein and used it to the fullest.

"You are a very bad boy Gerald Johnston," Tiffany whispered to herself going through all his files.

She made digital copies of everything. It took five minutes to break into his computer terminal and access those files. In the supervisor's office it took a few more minutes to do the same. She had already visited Gerald's house and ransacked his personal computer files, including the secret accounts that he was stashing the payoffs in along with the details of the transactions. She understood why the man was still able to keep his job. He had friends looking after him. Friends that didn't know his true nature. Social Services had their own version of internal affairs. It now would look like the supervisor sent them the information along with a statement that duplicate packets were being sent to the District Attorney and State Attorney General.

The hard part had been to adjust the sending time to appear to have gone out during regular working hours. The computer would send it at ten minutes before close of business the next day. The fun part had been a minor virus that Krystel provided. It was included with the packet to the District Attorney. Once the packet was opened a duplicate would be sent to three local news outlets. Outlets with affiliations. The powers that be would fall all over their selves to make things right, just to cover their own asses.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Saturday night at three-thirty Tiffany was crouched in a shadow, double-checking that no neighbors would notice her incursion. All the windows on the ground floor were nailed shut and painted over. That didn't matter. Previously she had determined that she would gain access on the second floor through a bathroom window. A vent pipe gave her rope something to anchor to and she climbed up quietly. A second rope allowed her to drop down even with the window she needed. The magnetic sensor was simple to bypass, as was the feeble latch. She was inside in less than three minutes and checking the hallway.

Charlie's information had included the fact that some of the stairs made noise. That was easy to avoid by slithering down instead of walking. She only made contact with the edge of the treads to get down. She then went into the office. By hacking in she learned that the computer's camera did not have night vision capability. She brought it out of sleep mode and logged in using the password. From then on it was all by the numbers; make sure all the serious data was no longer password protected then download some very incriminating files. The kind so depraved they would make even Gacy and Dahlmer vomit in revulsion. Those too would be easy to find. She even adjusted the download stamps to show they had been acquired over a period of months and watched daily.

The hardest part was the fake journal. It held entries of taking interest of the hardcore videos then fantasizing about enacting them with the younger boys. The final entry detailed that she had finally resolved herself to act out a fantasy with the youngest. She planned to withhold him from school on Monday morning then use the cuffs and restraints after stripping him naked then stimulate him enough to force an erection. She planned to rape him anally with the largest of the sex toys while using the belt of her bathrobe to strangulate him; auto-erotic fashion. During the anticipated orgasm she would complete the strangulation. All of this would be recorded using her computer then uploaded for sale. The journal went on to say that if the sales went as she hoped she would have one of the older boys participate in the next session by raping one of the ten year olds while strangling him.

Tiffany had been surprised when Krystel suggested the journal. What was shocking was where she said it came from. Stolen FSB files from the ninties in the CIA's archives. Apparently the FSB used that journal to gain control over a target in Western Bloc Europe. A double agent stole them and the CIA used them to turn the Asset. The Asset gave limited cooperation then committed suicide. Central Intelligence sealed the file and no longer cared. Krystel found it and sent it to Tiffany. Tiffany did add to the entry that part of the profits would be shared with the social worker.

Tiffany then concealed a large packet of drugs that would be easily found by a cop looking. Also the packet of the miscellaneous money from the envelope. As per her instructions much of it had traces of the drugs she was concealing. Like the same person handling the drugs also handled the money. It was easy enough to acquire the woman's fingerprints then using a putty to transfer them to several sets of handcuffs, restraints, gags and sex toys. The toys had been cleaned using a dishwasher then coated with a off-the-shelf cleaning solution to make them appear to be well used. More than one had dead batteries and two had batteries that were almost drained.

She had held some of the ready made drug packets back though and went upstairs. With painstaking care she slipped into both of the older boys' rooms and concealed a fair amount of the drugs to look as if they took some with them each day to sell. Also some of the money too. With all the evidence sufficiently in place she went back out the bathroom window. It was almost dawn. There would be twenty more minutes until it broke. She called and woke up Charlie and instructed him to gather and pack up the items she'd provided then upon official wake go about their usual Sunday activities but to stay at the church instead of separating. She collected the bag as she left.

 

---

---

 
Chapter 4

Charlie pretended to sleep though the other three boys somehow managed to actually sleep. At seven He heard a banging on the door then the lock was turned.

The door opened and Mrs. Deavers yelled down, "GET UP! GO TO THAT DAMN CHURCH IF YOU'RE GOING YOU BRATS!"

Charlie leaned over and shook the others, "hey come on guys. Let's get going."

He'd done so quietly. The other three boys woke up, stretched then followed him up the stairs. Mrs. Deavers waited at the door, looking very tired.

"Hurry up! Get going. Don't you all go running your mouths off and when you come back you better have some money," She said angrily then slammed the door shut after they went out. The locks were snapped a second later. Hanging their heads the three younger boys followed Charlie down the steps and down the sidewalk.

"Hey Charlie," the youngest boy, Derek, whispered, "does the person giving us stuff go to the church?"

Charlie shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe. If somebody comes up and says something we'll know."

"I wish they would take us away. I hate the Deavers," Derek said sadly.

One of the ten year olds looked back, "we'll be ok Derek. Things'll work out. We have an angel watching over us. We're getting supper now. Those blanket things are weird but they keep us warm all night. Deavers don't know about it so they can't take it away. Maybe we just need to have more faith?"

"Willie's right. Things have been better the past few nights. Let's have some faith that they'll keep getting better. Maybe the reverend can teach us how to pray for that," the other ten year old said.

They hurried along and arrived at the church twenty minutes later. The reverend was standing by the door.

"Morning boys. I'm glad you came," He greeted them.

Charlie nodded, "morning Reverend Simon."

Simon ushered them inside and pointed to a box, "This box was waiting on the step when I got here. It has your names on it for some reason. I have no idea who left it."

Charlie tried not to smile as the other three boys dove for it. Inside the box were four backpacks. Each one had a name tag. Inside each were three sets of clothes; jeans, underwear, socks, tee-shirts, long-sleeve shirts, a coat and pair of sneakers. Also a wallet with one hundred dollars and a personal grooming kit were included.

The boys laughed with joy at the gifts, hugging them tightly. At the bottom of the box was a note.

Stay in the church. Do not leave until
someone comes that will really help.

Simon saw the note and read it over Charlie's shoulder. He had a feeling now that something was being done to rescue the four boys from that horrible place they were consigned to.

"Well. Let's not waste any time. Come on back and use the shower and get into those gifts. Toss those old things into this box and I'll dispose of them for you," Simon said kindly.

As the boys showered he took the smelly old rags out and tossed them into the dumpster. He stopped at the door and clasped his hands then looked skyward.

Simon prayed, "Heavenly Father. Please hear me. Those four boys have been through so much. I fear a dark hour has come. If that may be then please allow them to weather it here in your house until it passes. I know not whether you send angels or men, but please send help to them this day while they are safe here. Rescue them from those that have preyed upon them all this time. I've done all I could to shelter and guide them, being fought every step of the way. Please Lord, send forth that which will deliver these innocent souls to a refuge they so need desparately. Amen."

The Reverend finally wished with all his heart the impromptu prayer was heard and would be answered then went inside to make something for the boys to eat for breakfast.

At the end of the alley Tiffany turned away unnoticed, "you've been heard. I'm no angel though. I was trained by a DemonWraith. Let fly the wings of fury on cold winds; I am Death and they will wish I had called their names."

She used her phone to send a text then got into her car and drove away. She parked a block away from the house and waited.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Gerry Nunez couldn't believe it. The Watch Commander had called him saying that a courier had brought in an envelope that the drug K-9 alerted to. When he opened it there were five packets of powder that tested to be a base mix of meth, aspirin, a touch of heroin and baking powder. It was definitely street grade product. Each packet worth at most twenty bucks. The note inside said they had been bought in a public school and gave the address of the sellers. The address turned out to be a group home for problem case kids. The note also stated that the social worker was not only aware of the drug, he was also getting a cut of the profit. They had a warrant to search for narcotics and any data concerning criminal acts within the hour. they had learned long ago that if they didn't include that any computer evidence would be inadmissible regardless of the evidence.

Suspicious or not, it couldn't be ignored. He called the unit in and they geared up to go. They made a final check at the end of the block then climbed onto the running boards of the truck. The truck sped down the block and swooped to a stop in front of the house. The officers swarmed the door, one ran forward and slammed the door with a ram throwing it open. The rest stormed inside. They yelled out as they searched.

Nunez yelled out, "NYPD!"

He kicked a bedroom door open and saw a woman reaching for a baseball bat, "FREEZE!"

Mrs. Deavers shouted, "I'LL SUE YOUR ASSES FOR THIS! GET OUTTA MY HOUSE!"

Within seconds both she and her husband were on the floor being cuffed.

"Hey Nunez! Come check this out," another officer called from down the hall.

Gerry went to see, "what d'ya got?"

The junior detective held up a gloved handful of things, "party favors! Weed and powder."

Another detective called out, "I thought there was supposed to be eight kids here. Where's the other kids?"

"GERRY! BETTER GET DOWN HERE," Artello yelled upstairs.

Nunez went downstairs. His partner waved him into a room. It looked like some kind of office and a tech was already working on the computer.

"What's up," Nunez asked.

The Tech shook his head, "this is one sick perv. I've seen some sick stuff in my time but this is really bad."

"Kiddie porn," Nunez asked.

The Tech looked over, "yeah there's kid porn. There was a couple of names I never heard of so I looked. I'm telling ya Detective, this shit would make Charles Manson fucking cry in shame. We're talking Kiddie Snuff! Fucking sick shit!"

Another officer was searching and called out, "oh shit! JACK-FUCKING-POT!"

Nunez went over and looked, it was a bag of the powder and more of the packets along with cash.

A whistle got Nunez' attention so he went into the hall.

"Whatcha got Palioski," Gerry asked.

The detective replied, "the younger of the guys upstairs said the four missing boys always go to church on sunday. Pretty much stay all day there. He thinks they get fed so they stay and eat as much as they can. Gerry this kid's freaking out, he didn't have any dope in the room and swears he didn't know about it."

"You believe 'im," Nunez asked.

"Yeah. He's admitting to picking some pockets on the trains but he says its so he can buy food to eat. he says they all have to do something for money 'cause the old bag hoards all the money she gets paid for keepin' 'em. Said he knows the social worker gets a kick back and runs interference," Palioski relayed.

Nunez thought for a minute then asked, "what the others; have they tried to cooperate?"

Palioski shook his head, "nope. One won't say shit and the other two are trying to thug up. The kid also says the four younger boys are forced to stay in the basement at night. That bitch makes them bum money after school. For five bucks they can take a shower, fifteen for hot water. Thirty and they can sleep in a bed. Fifty they get a room. But they have to bring that in daily. He figures whatever money they can scrape up they buy food with because there usually isn't any food left after the adults and two oldest boys get through eating."

"Damn. Ok, keep him separate and see if you can get the name of that church out of him," Nunez sighed.

The hardened Detective knew the system sucked, but this was an all new low in his book. Probably everybody else's book too. If the media got ahold of this story it was going to turn into a zoo. Just when he thought he couldn't be more jaded something like this came along and reminded him things could always be worse.

"FUCKING SICK BITCH," the tech said loudly.

Nunez shook his head and went back in, "what now?"

The tech said nothing. He simply stood up, pointed at the screen and ran out of the room. Nunez looked at the screen. it was some kind of journal. The entry was from yesterday and the more he read, the more he wanted to simply drag the woman out into the street and shoot her. Finally he turned away and went into the hall.

"Being a rent-a-cop doesn't seem so bad anymore," Nunez said grimly then took out his cellphone and dialed, "Captain. I think you better get the D.A. down here. If the press hears about any of this shit he'll be one of those deer being swarmed by lions. Oh and we got four kids missing here. They might be at a church."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Late that afternoon Reverend Simon met a detective. Half an hour later the District Attorney and Police Commissioner arrived and presented him with a court order for the four boys. The Social Services' supervisor was with them. Charlie shook his head at them.

"No way am I going with those people again," Charlie said firmly.

"Son. It has to be this way," the D.A. said.

Charlie shook his head, "the last time Social Services took me they through me in that place and forgot all about me! No! No! No! I didn't do anything wrong and those people did that to me! You don't get a second chance. They're the bad guys. Arrest them! That's what cops are SUPPOSED to do; arrest bad guys! So arrest them!"

Reverend Simon interrupted, "these children have been victimized by your system. Why should any of them go, regardless of what paper says?"

"Its the law Reverend," the District Attorney said.

"Bought and paid for," Simon said pointedly.

"You hold on there! There's been some wrongdoing yes. That doesn't mean you can go around accusing of corruption," the Commissioner said angrily.

"Nobody cared before. Why should we believe you now," the youngest boy said, "you'll just put us in the jail so we get beat up so much we can't cry or send us to another place like the Deavers' and say its all our fault."

The Social Services' supervisor shook his head, "that won't happen son."

Charlie glared at him, "what do the grown-ups always say? You're track record is crap and I'm not buying it. What we've been telling got proved. What you're telling isn't."

"Look we understand but the law is clear," The District Attorney stated.

Simon remarked, "the same law that threw those boys into a house of horrors."

"You're not helping," the Commissioner glowered.

"Of course I am. Them," Simon said flatly, "they have absolutely no reason to trust any of you. Frankly I don't either. This is less about the welfare of four children in despair and more like a something you want off your desk and swept under the rug."

The District Attorney growled, "look I get it. I have kids."

Simon finally lost his temper and stood nose to nose, "these AREN'T your kids! You've ALL failed them and you didn't care then! They don't believe you care now! Now unless you are willing to adopt them today. They will continue to disbelieve you and by all rights; THEY SHOULD!"

"Wow. I guess I didn't miss all the fire and brimstone," a woman's voice said from behind them.

They all turned to see a blonde haired woman in a grey coat and suede boots walking up the aisle.

Charlie smiled at her and saw her smile in returned.

"Sorry I couldn't get here earlier to attend church with you Charlie. I had business that I couldn't put off," Tiffany said.

Charlie went over, "that's ok Miss Tiffany. You're here now, but I got problems."

Tiffany nodded looking over the adults then back, "sounds like you boys need a litigator. Nice clothes. Much better than those rags I saw you in. Did you buy them with the money I gave you, or did you use it to buy a shower that night from that witch?"

"Excuse me, but this is a private matter. Who are you," The Commissioner asked.

Tiffany regarded him warily then answered, "Tiffany Davareaux. I met Charlie a few days ago and I've been giving him money. I was shocked to hear how much he and those boys over there have suffered. I dare say, as tough as New Orleans was after Katrina; I wouldn't raise a child in New York if you bought me the Empire State Building to call home."

She looked to Charlie, "I met a lawyer. He's a nice guy. Maybe he could help your four boys. Would you like me to call him for you?"

Charlie nodded, "would you please?"

"Just a minute! You can't do that," the District Attorney said angrily.

Tiffany looked over at him, "Is that paper in your hand some form of legal document regarding the disposition of these four boys? If it is then they have the right to an impartial legal counsel in lieu of parental consent."

Tiffany had been dialing as she spoke then said into the phone, "Daimon? Tiffany Davareaux. I have four young men that need legal representation. I'll pay your initial retainer for them. I'll write you a check now and buy it back first thing in the morning."

She told him where they were and disconnected, "what luck. He said he can be here in ten minutes! Sorry gentlemen, but you know you have to do the cease and desist thing until the lawyer gets here."

The Commissioner stood in front of her, "What are you trying to pull lady?"

"Best step back Mister. I swear by my pretty floral bonnet," Tiffany smiled sweetly but with lifeless eyes and hissed, "I'll end you."

"You're threatening the Police Commissioner," he growled.

Tiffany grinned malevolently, "say that to somebody that cares. I had lunch the other day with Nora Roberts. You know her, Anchor on CBS This Morning. Oh yes Mister Commissioner, I very well CAN end you. And your little buddies over there too."

"Tiffany! I got here faster than I thought," a well dressed gentleman rushed up.

The District Attorney groaned, "aw shit. Not you Allan."

"Brian! Nice to see you. So are these four young men my new clients," Allan asked.

"Allan; Charlie and his compadres. Boys; this is Allan. He's your new attorney. Hold on I write you a check," Tiffany said then started to go for her purse.

Allan shook his head, "nonsense! I'll take their case pro-bono. Its always nice to do a good deed just for the good deed. Right Father?"

"Reverend Sir. Simon Copeland," Simon introduced himself and shook hands.

"Of course Reverend; my apologies. Please don't hold being a Catholic against me," Allan said then turned to the boys, "Boys what I am is a civil attorney. I fight in court to make sure people get treated fairly. Come tell me your story and we'll figure out how to make sure you get what's best for YOU, and not those other guys. Don't worry about where you'll stay, for now you can stay with me and my family until we find the right families for you."

"Just who the hell are you," the District Attorney asked Tiffany.

Tiffany gave him a bored look, "a ballerina. Au revior."

She went over and gave Charlie a cellphone, "call me. My number is already programmed in. Have fun Allan. Toodles."

"Later Tiffany," Allan smiled.

Only Charlie saw her wink.

Three days later amid the big media frenzy all four boys were adopted. Charlie was taken in by a couple that already had a child. A girl the same age that was transitioning to be a boy. All four claimed it was a perfect match. Tiffany smiled as she began packing to go back to the island for evaluation before her Moscow deployment. Lyssa and Kimberly couldn't stop laughing at the after action report. Lyssa stated she'd be more articulate in giving instructions in the future.
 
 
 
 
 

Tiffany will return in the next Chrysalis Project: Steel Dove and cameo in other LKM/CP
 
 
 
* - the Glock model 46 carried by Tiffany does not exist.