The Chrysalis Project: Ghost Moth   Training is over. Now her   mission is to move within the shadows   of agencies. The Ghost Moth flies on her own   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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CHAPTER 1
Dannigan sat reading the email report from the detention center. Since being captured in Alaska all the terrorists had done nothing but prayer constantly. any attempts to interrogate them made them shut down.

He buzzed Madison,"Madison. Get me General Hollander please. Use the Duncan identity."

several minutes later his phone rang,"General?"

"What can I do for you Major Duncan," the General asked.

Dannigan answered, "Reading the reports about the new arrivals Sir. I have somebody I'd like to send in. This wouldn't be an interrogation; It'll be an information extraction Sir."

" I understand Major. Before I can allow this I'll need authorization," General Hollander replied.

"Texas Vermilion," Dannigan answered.

A moment later the General came back on the line, "authorization verified Major. Who do we expect?"

"Agent Caldwell, NSA, Sir," Dannigan replied.

"Very well. We'll have the subjects ready tomorrow," the General signed off.

Dannigan buzzed Madison again, "Madison?"

"Yes Major," Madison replied.

Dannigan sighed, "good. Bring up tasking for Shawna Davies. She's to proceed to Sanctuary. She'll be met at the airfield in Alamogordo, New Mexico. She'll need the Susan Caldwell NSA credentials."

"Yes Sir," Madison replied and pulled up the message screen for Kimberly.

She sent out the packet with the message, 'Ghost Moth now active."

She closed the message window whispering to herself, "good luck Shawna. Its the real deal so go get 'em."

 

~o~O~o~
 

General Hollander stared carefully at the dark haired woman sitting across from him. Late twenties or early thirties with high cheekbones. It was her hair that caught his eye. It wasn't just dark, it was like a raven's wing. Black with a flash of blue within. Her complexion was a bit off though, instead of the characteristic porcelain doll face; she had a tint of tan to it but it was hard to tell as she wore make-up. Make-up that looked applied by a professional. The hint of perfume was subtle, neither overly floral nor musky. All in all, Agent Susan Caldwell didn't over or underplay her feminine attributes. She was an attractive woman and that was that. A black skirt suit with jewel blue blouse and though she wore high heels they weren't the sky high type or platforms that most women wore these days. All that implied she was indeed a professional. The non-standard issue Desert Eagle ten millimeter dropped the hammer on the fact that she wasn't an administration type. Agent Caldwell was a field agent, commonly referred to as 'Men in Black'. The only thing missing was the cliche' sunglasses.

"Is there a problem with my documentation General, Sir," she asked in a voice that was neither husky nor sweet.

The General looked back at the file and its forms of authority to interrogate the prisoners utilizing conventional and unconventional techniques, including chemical and physical methods.

Hollander looked back up, "I'm a bit old fashioned Agent Caldwell. I still believe we're the good guys and look good wearing white hats."

Agent Caldwell didn't smile nor frown, "nothing wrong with that General. We are the good guys. As for the white hats; well some people wear hats better than others, Sir."

Hollander found her attitude quite different from most agents. CIA and DIA along with several others tended to puff out their chests, speak loudly and try to sport a menacing glare. She didn't. Agent Caldwell didn't seem to be put off by anything and didn't want to flaunt authority or bully. She was there and had a task to perform. She hadn't requested a translator or any other personnel in fact. She definitely had a very military bearing and was respectful as if second nature to be dealing with men of the military. Caldwell didn't have to threaten, intimidate or coerce. She was supposed to be there and all that needed to know that, did.

"General, if there's a problem I'm sure a quick call will sort it out Sir," She said matter-of-factly.

Hollander gave into the feeling and replied while passing back the file, "no need Agent Caldwell. Everything looks to be in order here."

She stood, almost as if at attention causing him to sit straighter and expect a salute.

"I'll do my best to make the most of my time here, Sir. I have only two, maybe three days before he and his 'associates' are to be transported to Moscow," She said in a business-like tone.

"Very well. Carry on, uh, Agent Caldwell," the General caught himself about to try applying a rank to a civilian.

"Sir," the Agent stood a bit straighter then turned and walked out.

Then General went back to his other paperwork, "female or not, why can't more agents be more professional like her? CIA has too many damned civilians. At least the NSA gets former military."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Shawna had changed and now walked down the hall following the sergeant in black BDU's.

He stopped at a door and opened it for her, "Ma'am. As you requested, no observation. No video or audio monitoring. A pair of guards outside the door but otherwise you'll be on your own Ma'am. And yes, you do have cellular service."

Shawna nodded, "thank you Sergeant. I'm ready. When will the first prisoner be brought in?"

"Right away Ma'am," the sergeant replied.

With a quick step to attention he then went to bring up the prisoner. Shawna walked into the room and looked around, a table and two chairs. Another chair sat alone bolted to the floor and two chains hung down from the ceiling. She slipped something from her purse. A very small electronic bug detector, she flicked it on and two red lights came on. The sergeant hadn't told the truth about the audio and video surveillance. It was there and on. That was ok, they'd soon regret having it on. Shawna had already changed from the skirt-suit and heels into the form fitted battle-suit and boots, similar to Lyssa's and strapped on her pistol and the Fairbarne-Applegate Tactical knife to the back of her thigh. She stood patiently waiting. Minutes later the door opened and two soldiers dragged in Palo and sat him in the solitary chair and cuffed him to it.

"Two more," Shawna said casually and nodded to the chains.

"Yes Ma'am," one of the soldiers snapped.

Several minutes later the two prisoners had been brought in one by one and cuffed to the chains.

Shawna stood in front of Palo, "There are things I would like to know. You'll be telling me."

"Allah be with me in this time as I endure the infidels' ways," Palo mumbled to himself in Chechen.

Shawna stepped closer and replied, "This is about to become the 'worse' you were told about. God is not with you, never was. You may as well pray to a garbage can for all the good it will do you. All of you."

All three began reciting from the Koran. Shawna walked over to the small zippered case on the table, loaded a syringe with the liquid and began injecting the two men secured to the chains. Within minutes both hung limp in the cuffs then began to shiver after sweating.

"Watch closely Palo," she said softly then approached them, "I'm your hostess. Welcome. To a place beyond Hell."

Both men saw her and began screaming. Palo looked and saw the sheer terror in their eyes. They begged and pleaded amid screams for her not to come closer but Shawna ignored them and began cutting away the orange one piece jumpsuits then she started skinning the one on the left at his elbows working her way toward his body. The floor, the other man and Shawna soon became flecked with blood from his tormented thrashing.

Shortly thereafter she began singing softly, "One of these mornings. won't be very long. you will look for me. and I'll be gone...."

Her voice became sweet and haunting. Palo closed his eyes and prayed more but he couldn't shut out the screams or the song. She had begun alternating between the two suspended men. blood covered the floor in small puddles. Palo looked up in time to see her turn, streaks of blood across her face.

The woman in black said, "don't worry. Your time is coming."

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Somebody get that cherry outta here," Agent Tom McDaniels commented rudely.

The CIA agent stood in the observation room. One of the soldiers running the monitoring equipment had vomited. There was no window into the room so they were watching a large plasma screen of the NSA agent systematically shred the terrorists to ribbons.

"Agent McDaniels, or whatever your name really is, if you disrespect any of my men again; I'll have you tied to a tree and used for paintball target practice. Naked," General Hollander said.

"I thought you said you didn't get into the whole torture business General," McDaniels commented.

"I don't; when people are involved," Hollander retorted casually.

"Oh I get it. Hahaha. Nice one General. Is that a jab at me personally or the Agency," The CIA officer asked.

Hollander turned and looked at him, "no difference at all. You're all a pack of hyenas. If there's no weak prey to victimize you're quite happy turning on each other."

"Hey I got no problem sitting back and watching chick there do her thing. Palo is about to crack any minute and I didn't have to do anything but wait and watch. I'll admit, her technique is startlingly effective and it was immediate too," McDaniels said smugly, "besides. The NSA is mostly tech-twerps; its nice to see they have people that actually do get their hands dirty."

From the speakers they heard Palo finally say, "I will tell you whatever you wish please kill them."

"OH HELL YEAH! PAY DAY!!!! Yahoooo cowgirl," McDaniels chuckled.

His happiness dropped to nothing as the screen and speakers suddenly filled with static. The soldiers began flipping switches and pressing buttons then finally sat back and shook their heads.

"What the fuck! Turn it back on," McDaniels bellowed.

"Sir you don't understand. Its not off," one of the soldiers said.

"Then what fuck is THIS," he demanded gesturing to the screen and speakers.

Hollander began to chuckle to himself.

"What's so funny there General," the agent asked sarcastically using the General's rank.

One by one the soldiers began laughing as well.

One remarked, "he didn't see it. That's funny."

Another commented, "blind as a bat CIA Asshole."

Finally one of the soldiers rolled back video and stopped it on a frame.

"Look close. What do you see," he asked.

McDaniels looked closer and saw something square and black on the table that she touched.

"What the hell is that," he demanded.

"Signal jammer you putz. She knew we were watching. dumbass," Hollander answered.

A moment later the video came back up. They watched as she drew her pistol and shot the two prisoners she'd been torturing.

"Better hope that what you told me is true Palo. I can always come back and ask you again. Like this," she said gesturing to the two mangled bodies.

"Allah as my witness, I have told you everything. The truth, I swear it," Palo said softly then asked, "will you kill me when you have done what you wish with the information?"

Shawna leaned in close, "you're a very bad man Palo. I think I'll keep you alive, a girl needs a hobby."

He sat in horror as she packed up the weapons and drug case then walked out.

"THAT BITCH!!!!!!! Find me that information he gave her! NOW DAMMIT," McDaniels demanded.

 

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CHAPTER 2

Kimberly answered on the second ring, "Hangar. Go."

"Its me. I got everything, I think. Multiple strikes on Swiss controlled banks; Geneva, Monte Carlo and Vienna. What now," Shawna asked.

"Can you travel," Kimberly asked.

Shawna answered, "I'm clean enough to go on our planes."

"LoneStar is waiting at the terminal. Haul ass," Kimberly instructed.

Shawna disconnected and sent the video file to Kimberly. Within two hours she was arrived at the terminal and boarded the Lear.

"Strap in," The calm voice told her.

Shawna did and minutes later they took off.

"When we refuel in Atlanta we'll pick up Pete. Rodrick and Tiffany will go to Monte Carlo. Lyssa will be dropped off in Geneva. We get Vienna," LoneStar told her.

Shawna was startled at that, "Lyssa's going to Geneva alone?"

"Why not? She's worked alone for years. Until she hooked up with Rodrick for that Columbia job or after it," LoneStar said in his usual icy voice, "You're not cleared for working alone yet so you get chaperons. Just like Tiffany and Krystel do. Kimberly has Krystel in case you wondered and they stay put. No field work unless critical."

"Now that I think about it, it makes sense. I would have thought Lyssa would be with us and Pete with Rodrick and Tiff," she commented.

LoneStar shook his head, "No. Lyssa can operate alone and Rodrick is enough to go with Tiffany. Of the people in the field we three are the weakest links so we'll be together. That way there's coverage. Lyssa would only be slowed down by anybody but Rodrick. He can keep up with her for the most part and they have worked in tandem but she still prefers doing wet-work alone and now more than ever. She's supposed to be pregnant remember? She'll jump in and sneak out to a location where Rodrick and Tiffany can pick her up. No paparazzi, no events. Not even a footprint in the sand. Totally black."

"I get it now. I wonder if I'll ever work with her though," Shawna mused.

"pray you don't," LoneStar remarked, "Take the controls for a few minutes."

Shawna did and he slipped out of the pilot's seat, went to the back of the plane and returned a few minutes later.

"I got it," he said, "Go get cleaned up."

Shawna nodded and went back. A quick refuel in Dallas then another in Atlanta where they picked up Pete and then headed north to refuel in New York then over to London. Finally they arrived in Vienna Austria and took a rental to a house. LoneStar went in first then signaled for them to come in.

"Damn Lyssa has nice houses," LoneStar commented looking around.

"This is Lyssa's," Shawna asked amazed.

"Yeah. She's got houses all over the world. You didn't know," Pete asked.

LoneStar went into the hallway and opened a concealed panel to reveal a weapons locker filled with assault rifles, sub-machine guns, pistols, knives, explosives, ammunition and various other operational gear.

Shawna was impressed, "wow! When you said equipment would be available I thought a couple of pistols, an MP-7 at the most. Damn, we can launch major assaults with this locker."

Pete chuckled, "you thought Lyssa would leave us to fend for ourselves completely?"

"Yeah. Silly me," Shawna replied and began setting up her computer to begin planning with Pete and LoneStar.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tom McDaniels ran out the front gate of the detention center dialing on his phone. As he settled into the rental car the call connected and was answered.

"4691."

Savagely he twisted the ignition, "Code in; Georgia Rains."

The voice answered back, "secure. one moment please."

A moment later another voice picked up, "Go Tom."

"Malcolm we got a problem. Some NSA bitch came in and wrung this asshole like you wouldn't believe then bailed without sharing. I finally got him talking again and its bad. These guys are gonna try to hit Swiss banks in Geneva, Vienna and Monte Carlo. All at the same time. I need fast transport to Vienna and a team on the ground waiting for me when I get there. Oh and find out everything you can about Susan Caldwell, NSA."

"Yeah, where do I start," the other end asked.

"Start with the S's; for sadistic bitch. She peeled two guys like they were oranges. Black hair, blue eyes, five-eight or nine-ish, about a buck twenty-ish. Late twenties early thirties, definitely ex-military. Interrogations. I'd start with the Army because she got along with the tin soldier down here," McDaniels replied sarcastically.

"Ok. So you want me to hack NSA and DOD. You want I should go for the postal service and the league of women voters too? Let's not miss anybody important if we're gonna piss people off," the voice on the other end remarked.

"Just find that bitch," McDaniels demanded and disconnected.

A glance at his watch told him she had a sixteen hour head-start. With any luck they'd still be planning when he and his team took down the cell. He used his credentials to bully his way onto an outbound flight heading east and by the time he got there the two connecting flights would be booked. No way was some tight ass in a skirt gonna snatch up his op. NSA or not.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Lyssa stood at the door of the Gulfstream waiting for Tiffany to open it so she could jump out. Rodrick had already depressurized the cabin and they were almost to the outskirts of Geneva. Lyssa was geared up in her battlesuit, full weapons load and her night High Altitude, High Opening jump rig. The dark grey HAHO chute would allow her to glide a long distance from the Drop Point to a Landing Zone. The LZ for her was a soccer field half a mile from the house she owned there. The plan was to get there and make it to the cell's location before dawn. Eliminate them all then sanitize the location. She'd exfiltrate to the border to be picked up using an old forgotten airstrip or make her way to Vienna if they needed help. The main goal of her operating alone was speed and stealth. By herself, she'd have no hindrances and no chance being seen. Within the hour she was inside the safe house and booting up her laptop. After linking up to Kimberly she received all the information there was and planned her incursion. In no time at all Lyssa was stealthily entering the cell's house.

One by one as they slept she made sure they'd never awaken then made it look like a team had stormed the house. She posed the bodies in a line in the main room and removed the index and thumb of the right hand of each along with a couple of teeth and left a large sheet of paper under one's head as if used for background to take pictures. Quickly she stripped away all vital electronic components; phones and computer motherboards and any paper that caught her eye then ransacked the house as if searching for hidden intelligence. CIA tradecraft. The she dropped an official business card; Thomas W. McDaniels- Central Intelligence Agency, Langley Virginia. Any investigators would have to work to find it so therefore they would believe it. She returned her SUV to the safehouse then went back for the cell's vehicle and used it to drive south. Lyssa crossed the mountains using a small road that barely qualified as that. There was a very small airfield just inside inside the border. It was for emergency use by U-2, A-12 spyplanes and later the vaunted SR-71 BlackBirds during the cold war but now long forgotten. Flying through that mountain pass blocked a plane's radar return for ten minutes. Plenty of time to land and pick her up.

 

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CHAPTER 3

Tiffany heard the double click of Rodrick's mic and understood it to be the signal to make entry. Slowly she edged the window up and felt inside for hidden wires attached to noisemakers. There were none so she continued to raise the window and slither inside. A double click of her mic signaled her entrance. She had the second floor and he had the ground floor. Room by room they cleared the house silently using knives and suppressed pistol shots. They removed the rounds and collected their brass. Rodrick staged the scene as Tiffany stripped the electronics, neither spoke as they worked. When he was finished with the bodies he began up-ending furniture, pulling out drawers, and emptying cabinets then baring the shelves. Anyone looking at the place later on would definitely come to the conclusion that all had been done by a professional team working for a government, most likely the CIA or FSB. After a quick check of her work Rodrick nodded approval. They made their way out and back to the villa on the outskirts of Monte Carlo. Rodrick had landed with the story of needing a repair and use the down time to eat. They were gone a total of three hours. The Gulfstream had been serviced and refueled by the time they returned. In a matter of minutes they took off and headed back toward Switzerland.

"Sir. How do you both know about that airfield we're picking her up at," Tiffany asked.

Rodrick shrugged, "well the land was bought by the CIA and Army engineers built the strip. The story goes, back in the day, Christians In Action made up a bunch of shell companies all over Europe. They used those companies to establish covers and buy stuff like property and equipment and so on. The company they used for that place was given over to JSOC. It stays off the books so it can be used by Delta and DEVGRU. Lyssa was a DemonWraith so she's probably used it before. Don't forget those Nemesis guys. The nuke teams. They have to sneak in and deploy tactical nukes to wreck all lines in and around."

"That makes sense. Thank you Sir," Tiffany said.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Shawna crouched at the window carefully peering in. Pete had climbed up to the second floor while LoneStar was working entry on the other side of the house. Not seeing any anti-intrusion measures she worked the window up and felt inside. Attached to the corner of the window was a slim line.

"Spider-wire on window," she whispered into her mic.

Two double clicks returned. Carefully she used a paperclip to hook the line then cut it. Held by the make-shift hook the window was now free to be fully opened. Shawna looked inside more and saw the line ran not to a jumble of cans or similar noisemaker but to a pipe bomb.

"Shrapnel anti-intrusion," she whispered again then slithered into the room.

Moments later two double click followed then a triple click. Slowly and silently Shawna worked her way down the hallway clearing the rooms. Most were empty but one semi-dark room held one man asleep in front of a muted television tuned to a local weather and news station. In one quick move she clamped her hand over the sleeping man's mouth and nose with her left and jammed the Fairbarne-Applegate knife through the base of his skull into the brain with her right. It took only a second for him to die. As an afterthought she snapped his neck then moved on to the next room. At the end of the hall she met up with Pete as he descended the stairs and gave her a thumbs-up then flashed four fingers and gave the thumbs down sign four times. They both turned to search for LoneStar when he walked out of a doorway. He flashed them the thumbs up then two fingers then thumbed down twice.

Standing together Shawna whispered the plans, "Star grab every electronic; phones, computer mother boards. All means of communication and data storage. Pete get all the bodies into the main room into a line-up then start looking for any important papers in the house and don't be tidy. I'll take the index and thumb off the right hand of each plus a couple of teeth. Find me a big piece of blank paper or cardboard. Something to put under the heads for a backdrop for pictures."

Both men nodded and began the tasks. In ten minutes they had all there was and began slipping back out to the SUV. They walked into the house and began cleaning equipment and clothing. An hour later they were repacked and securing the house to leave.

 

~o~O~o~
 

McDaniels took the time of the layover in London to call the team in Vienna.

"We've got eyes on the house. A surveillance team just took position 15 minutes ago. All's quiet," the team leader informed him.

"Great. I want to be able to launch our assault the sooner the better, but I'll be leading it," McDaniels said with a tone of self satisfaction.

Two and a half hours later, as the sun was setting, he was met outside the Vienna airport and got into an SUV.

"Sir the house is still quiet. They must be under orders to lay low sir," the driver reported.

"All the better. Gives us more time to get in position but let's not dick around," McDaniels replied.

Half and hour later they arrived at a cluster of vehicles in a parking lot behind a store. Men in black pants and jackets with stocking caps tucked half into pockets stood as if in a planning meeting while weapons were checked.

McDaniels got out and walked over, "Better have your shit wired and ate Wheaties this morning."

"We're ready," a stocky built African-American man said.

Very quickly he briefed the agent of the assault plan. McDaniels grabbed a tactical vest and put on a large windbreaker to cover it then took the offered balaclava which he put on rolled to his brow so that he could just pull it down to cover his face. Five minutes after loading up they stopped in front and behind the house and quickly stormed the doors. The CIA case officer being the third in the front door stack and the team leader being the second in the back door stack moved quickly through the house after the doors were battered apart with a small one-man ram. They met no resistance. No enemy engagement. They soon found out why in the main room. The stormers looked in puzzlement at the line of dead bodies. McDaniel stood in shock.

Finally the team leader came down from the second floor, " Sir. Somebody went over this place with a fine tooth comb the same way we'd do it."

"Fingers, teeth, pictures. FUCK," McDaniels yelled then muttered to himself, "It couldn't be her. NSA would still be here and flaunting it, parading bodies past us. Or would have burnt the place to the ground to keep anybody from knowing."

Quickly he grabbed his phone and dialed in then secured the call.

"Ok. What do you got for me about that chick," McDaniels asked.

The voice on the other end sighed, "you're not gonna like it."

"Just tell me who that bitch is," he fumed.

After a pause the other end said, "nobody."

"Bullshit," the agent spat out.

"Tom you don't get it. I ran the name and the description through every database I could hack. Susan Caldwell doesn't exist. Whoever she is; a stone cold ghost, Tom. The closest I got was some FBI field agent's confidential report about a Karen Caldwell of the NSA and I checked that out too. No such Agent. The only Caldwell working for NSA in any capacity that allows any kind of travel is Jerome Caldwell and he does signal intercept. The only places he's allowed to travel to is like...Pine Gap and the site in Arizona. That's it. Its definitely not him because he's forty-three, six-one, two-sixty and black," the tech recited, "unless you're seriously going around the bend or yanking my chain, you're dealing with shit so far above our pay grades it could get us killed. By the way, I thought you went straight to Vienna, why the stop over in Geneva?"
"What? I did come straight here! What are you talking about," McDaniels demanded.

"Geneva police responded to a call about strange noises. Dead bodies lined up on the floor in the front room with fingers and teeth missing, one of your crumpled business cards found under a turned out drawer," the tech explained, "Interpol is screaming and the only reason the Swiss aren't going after your ass is because of the evidence left behind cluing in that they were planning a bank take down. The boss has been on the phone with Interpol for the past two hours trying to keep them from coming after you. I wouldn't dick around there Tom. Clear up and get out fast. You're booked on a flight that leaves in half an hour."

McDaniels hung up, "I can not fucking believe this! Get me back to the airport. NOW!"

 

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CHAPTER 4

Shawna walked down from the Lear just as the Gulfstream touched down on the runway.

"There they are," Pete commented behind her as LoneStar was greeted by Kimberly.

Shawna noticed as well and asked, "isn't this a weekend you get to spend with Madison?"

Pete chuckled, "she's on her way. I'll pick her up in Nassau later."

"Ok. I'll start debriefing with you then," Kimberly said.

"Works for me," he said.

Pete followed Kimberly and LoneStar back into the hangar after passing his clipboard to Eddie as Warlock came pelting around the corner.

"One day that mutt's gonna get too close and get sucked into a turbine," Pete commented.

Warlock sat down and waited until Lyssa and Rodrick and Tiffany de-planed then trotted up to bark his greeting. Lyssa crouched down and ruffled his fur, praising him and Rodrick patted his side roughly.

"I'm going to head up and shower before I debrief," Lyssa called out to Kimberly who waved back.

"Sounds good to me too," Rodrick said then finished in german,"Warlock. Haus. Gehen!"

The belgian shepherd turned and gamboled away as Rodrick drove the cart with Lyssa riding beside him. Shawna waited downstairs from the office with Tiffany to be called in to debrief. Surprisingly she was called in before Tiffany. Kimberly was quick.

"ok Shawna. that's it. Get cleaned up and ready to go," Kimberly said after finishing.

"Go," Shawna asked, "Go where? We just got back."

Kimberly laughed, "You get to take a packet to the Major. Sign out the Lear and head up to D.C. Use the private airfield we use and take this with you."

Kimberly handed her a briefcase. Inside was all the necessary IDs, badges and other documentation for Special Agent Sasha Kirkpatrick of the DIA, Special Agent Sarah Callahan of Homeland Security, Agent Sharon Montgomery of ICE, Agent Seana Golson of the Secret Service, Agent Sally McManus of the CIA and Special Agent Stephanie Daniels of Department of Justice. the DOJ credentials gave her access to FBI, DEA and ATF. Quickly Kimberly showed her all the features of the case then helped her set the locks.

Finally Kimberly told her, "ok. After Lyssa and Rodrick debrief you'll be cleared to go."

"When? tomorrow," Shawna laughed.

Kimberly laughed as well, "no. They'll be here in a few minutes. time enough for you to get cleaned-up and ready to go You'll be gone for a week or so. Stop back in to get the case."

Shawna nodded and hurried to her trailer to shower change and re-pack. She noticed a clean battle-suit waiting for her to be added to her travel case. Three hours later she was headed north in the Lear.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Dannigan was glad he stayed late waiting for Shawna to come in with the mission packet.

After finishing the review of the after-action reports he nodded, "excellent work Ms. Davies. Very well done for your first tasking. In a month You'll have to be on the island for your final medical procedure and then you'll be out there. You have a choice; remain on the island or take up residence anywhere in CONUS. Preferably close to the D.C. area. say, no more than two hours away."

Shawna smiled for a moment then dropped it, "Sir, if I take up residence off the island how will I travel. Commercially?"

Dannigan shook his head, "not hardly. A Lear confiscated by Customs is now sitting at the private terminal hangars at the airfield Rodrick and Lyssa use here. Hangar 12 is ours now and you can park it inside. I've already told Pete to accompany Madison back on a commercial flight to pick up Rodrick's Lear. Here are the keys to a silver camaro sitting in the parking lot for you. Its in your legend name."

Dannigan passed over an envelope with the keys and papers.

"Wow. cool," Shawna said excitedly.

Dannigan took on a serious look, "remember. You're our ghost so be a ghost. Low profile in everything. As Lyssa taught you,' the less attention you attract; the less attention you will attract.' got it?"

"Yes Major," Shawna nodded.

He handed her an ID case and cellphone, "Shawna Daniels of the Senate sub-committee of counter-action. There are only four people that carry that and you're one of them. With this you have the HIGHEST rating in the nation. Technically you could execute the President for treason. You'd have to prove it, but you could. No one can order you to surrender your weapons. This is your legend."

"Yes Sir. I'll watch my step," Shawna answered understanding that it was her main cover now.

"You should have two weeks to get squared away then report back to Ram's Rock for evaluation and surgery. I'll be in touch and you can stay at the Georgetown safe-house tonight," Dannigan dismissed her.

Shawna stood up and saluted then left. She went out of the parking lot with a slight sqawk of tires out of the parking lot.

Dannigan's phone rang as he chuckled to himself. It was a message relay.

"Roberta Ironsides" a mechanical voice stated then the woman's voice came through, "Oxfords, not Brogues. Dinner party for six needed. Formal dress and black tie required. Prepay the check and send the bill to the Lone Stars."

"End message," the mechanical voice stated then disconnected.

Dannigan grabbed the phone and dialed the hangar.

"Kimberly. Tell Joe and Pete to get a plane ready. I need an extract. Find out everything on Roberta Ironsides and what connects her to the U.S. Marshals. Aw shit. She better not be in Ohio with that shit-storm," Dannigan growled.

"I'm all over it Major," Kimberly said then disconnected.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"I assure you Agent, er; I mean Miss Daniels. The purchase of the house and the title and everything will be kept strictly confidential," the Realtor named Jeffry Halston smiled.

"The property will be listed as owned by a holding company along with the services and utilities. Will that be a problem," She asked.

"Certainly not Ma'am. In fact, long ago my granddaddy worked for the Treasury. He chased moonshiners and that made him very unpopular so I understand you'd want the privacy. I'll be happy to help anyway I can. My civic duty you know, doing my part to serve my community and country," he nodded solemnly.

"That's very considerate Mr. Halston. And much appreciated. The payment will be wired to the account within the hour. I'll step over to that coffe shop and bakery I saw while I wait for the papers," Shawna stood up and shook hands with the middle-aged man dressed in a simple white button-up shirt and black chinos.

"Well since you do prefer privacy I'll unofficially welcome you to Belder Maryland and hope you enjoy making your home here," He nodded to over her handshake as if a modified court bow.

"Thank you, and please...call me Shawna," Shawna smiled then stepped out dialing the Cayman Island bank.

Three hours later Jeff dropped off the papers of ownership and keys then whispered that he finessed the local utility provider to go ahead turning everything on immediately and put under the holding company's name, paying the deposit himself. Shawna repaid the deposit money in cash with a bit extra for his accommodation to her.

The next day as the sun rose Shawna looked out the upstairs window as children walked by heading for school and could hear the drift of voices from a pair.

"I'm telling you Danny; something's different and PJ thought he saw a light on in there last night when he was sneaking home," a young girl said.

Her brother replied, "Come on. Like anybody would want to live in there. Dark House has been empty longer than you or me have been around and its gonna stay that way. The old lady died in there. Remember?"

The girl replied, "she lived alone and died of a broken heart, now she haunts it. Maybe PJ saw the ghost? I saw her picture in the town hall. She had jet black hair and pretty blue eyes. Whoa! Did you see that? A curtain moved! I saw a curtain move upstairs!"

"C'mon! You're just imagining things. We're gonna be late for school if we don't hurry," her brother goaded her.

As she watched the children bustle off Shawna smiled to herself and chuckled, "how ironic. Ghost house meet Ghost Moth. What secrets shall we share Darkfell Manor?"

Shawna easily wandered downstairs and locked up. She had to return to the island early and stay until her medical release, then she could come back and set up her new home.

 
 
 
 
 

The Chrysalis Project will continue.....

 

The Chrysalis Project: Steel Dove   TIffany is in New York. What will   happen when the 'City that never sleeps'   meets the Operator that never quits.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

---

 

 
 
 
Chapter 1

Tiffany stood in the club holding her bottled water, listening to the chatter of the two younger dancers she went to Julliard with in an abbreviated course. She had jumped at the opportunity to be included in their night out. For a month she'd trained hard, as if her every step were being dogged by her mentor Lyssa. Not even her dance master knew she'd been intensely trained by her for over a year. The world famous Prima had taught her from day one how to dance; both ballet and ballroom. It showed, several times He had almost said the name in comparison.

"Like its so hard? Don't they understand a girl's gotta cut loose sometimes and just have fun? You know, blow off steam," the dark haired Melanie stated.

Red headed Brooke replied, "We need something alright."

She wasn't looking at her companions but further away. Tiffany had spotted the subject of her interest right after she did. Dark hair, tanned and wearing the relaxed jeans and white shirt open several buttons. Brooke had a thing it appeared for the "bad boy" look. Melanie went more for the suit and tie guys and had more than once mentioned marriage in her future plans. Tiffany had also noticed the undercover cops and one off duty Fed. Their presence was filed away along with the group of four mafia boys. Swarthy, suited and arrogant they stood out in her mind. Being armed was the clinching give-away.

"In five months when we graduate; I'll be so glad to go home to San Francisco," Melanie said longingly.

She made no bones about being homesick.

"Not me. Graduation; then off to Paris for a month," Brooke laughed,"What about you Tiffany?"

Tiffany shrugged, "home for a week then figure out what to do next."

The songs changed and the singer's voice subtly caught her attention.

"Girl you need to get a plan. We can't dance forever. Play your cards right and you can land a serious sugar-daddy. Not a musician though. You need a business guy. European. You're a goody-goody, maybe an Italian? They're stable," Brooke commented.

"Stable? Why not a daredevil type," Tiffany hedged.

"What? You want to pull a Lyssa Kordenay and marry some fly-boy nobody pilot," Brooke asked.

That got both of the other dancers' attention.

"What's wrong with that," Melanie asked pointedly," She's happy, he's super hot. I heard he used to be a navy SEAL and was a smuggler for a while. Rumor is that the smuggling thing was a cover for working for the government. He had to stop because he married Lyssa and she gets too much attention for that. They just had twins and she looks great again."

Brooke rolled her eyes, "oh PUH-LEASE! Lyssa dated movie producers, designers and corporate bigwigs from all over. I even heard she was courted by an Arabian prince and she just THROWS it all away. To marry THAT GUY? You should hear the rumors about her. One is that she only danced to keep herself attractive because she was really a high level mistress. She disappears ALL the time! Once for two months. People thought she was pregnant or had a boyfriend that got too rough and she had to recover. Then she turned up in Sydney Australia, of ALL PLACES, in super top form."

Tiffany was listening, but only just. She knew about those rumors and the true stories behind them. It was the song that had her attention more. She listened onto the lyrics; 'Welcome to the inner workings of my mind. So dark and foul I can't disguise. Can't disguise. nights I become afraid of the darkness in my heart. Hurricane.' Brooke and Melanie began to argue. Tiffany edged back slowly and then wandered off. Those two argued more than anybody she'd met. They seemed to thrive on it. The high stress of a mission or training exercise was far more preferable to their constant bickering. Tiffany missed Ram's Rock Island. No need to hide anything there. It was so much easier. Her apartment building had a small gym luckily. Joining a health club was the only other way for her to maintain her high PT standard. The building had an indoor pool to swim in, stationary bikes and treadmills. Good thing she still woke up at five in the morning. She had no intention of joining a spin-class or any other group that focused more on being social than actual fitness.

She kept moving through the club and trying not to fall down laughing at some of the pick-up ploys being used on the other women.

"Hey gorgeous," a man with wet spiky hair and artificial tan said edging closer.

Tiffany had seen him earlier talking to two other blondes. Apparently that was his thing. He had the requisite accent if he wanted to be an extra on Jersey Shore.

She gave him a blank look and replied in German, "Ich glaube nicht, dummer Esel sprechen."

"Uh. You speak english," he asked.

"Englisch? Nein. Gute nacht Dumm," Tiffany said and turned away.

The guy walked off, "fuckin' foreign models. Why can't they learn english before they come here?"

A girl walking by carrying a tray of shot-tubes giggled, "that was so cool! What did you really say to him?"

Tiffany smiled and let her drawl slip a little on purpose, "I told him I didn't speak dumb-ass."

"I guess I should have paid more attention in spanish back in high school. It could've come in handy," the shot-girl lamented.

Tiffany shook her head, "too common. So is French. Learn Dutch instead, with your complexion it'll sell. Get the lessons you see on the commercials. It'll work."

"You speak Dutch? I know what you said to him was in German. I'm Stacy," the shot-girl introduced herself.

Tiffany nodded, " Onder andere. Among others. I'm Tiffany."

Stacy pulled a shot, "thanks for the advice Tiffany. Have one on me."

Tiffany waved off the shot, "advice is always free for a girl on the job. Tell you what. Twenty dollars for a name."

Stacy shrugged, "ask."

"Anything, anytime, anywhere. No questions and no attention," Tiffany said.

"Party-planner," Stacy asked.

Tiffany understood the slang term. A party-planner was a person that could supply girls for entertainment, tax-free liquor, drugs and even find a location to hold an event. All low-end. Street level. That wasn't what she wanted.

"A Fixer," Tiffany answered.

Stacy knew exactly what was meant. A fixer was a go-to guy. Cars, girls, guns, art, information, jewelry, drugs, men(for pleasure or security), off-the-books doctors. Usually mafia connections solved all those problems. But to ask for a fixer was different. Fixers were independent. They held no affiliation to any organization. They charged high prices and ran the highest risks. It was worth dealing with them. They worked alone and never had informant problems, they tended to be more ruthless.

"Kent Dalton," Stacy said leaning close and gave an address.

Tiffany nodded. That was what she wanted. A fixer that was established enough to have a location meant a lot. That meant he had been around for years. Low-end fixers had only phone numbers if you were lucky. Most of the time they worked a certain area and you had to look for them based off a description. An established fixer never dealt in cash and rarely with bearer bonds. They took payment by wire transfers.

Tiffany pulled two twenties from the top of her dress and dropped them on the girl's tray, "goodnight. Stacy."

The shot-girl smiled then blinked in amazement. Tiffany had taken five steps forward and disappeared as two people crossed in opposite directions between them.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Dannigan didn't like the update he was reading. ISIS was making moves again. Another penetration into CONUS. New York was too target rich as far as he was concerned. The thing that bothered him most was the movements. Three smaller contingents had broken off. All were heading south in varying directions. One cell moving to the mid-west, one deep south and one south-east. This wasn't concealment, it was operational prep. They were staging. As if the problem with the Marshals weren't enough. Or was it the other way around; If terrorists weren't enough he had that problem with the Marshals too.

He pulled up the conference window and it opened on the other side.

"What's on your mind Major," Kimberly asked.

Dannigan sent the reports, "An ISIS cell has divided. They're on the move and nobody has a clue where they're going or why. You and Krystel find 'em, track 'em so they can be shut down."

Kimberly was already reading the reports, "they're main location is in New York? Tiffany is there. Maybe she can do some groundwork on them. Shawna's back in Maryland. I think she's done setting up her house. Who do you want?"

Dannigan nodded, "make the packet and I'll bring Tiffany up on tasking. Oh and add that I would prefer she not get mugged again."

Lyssa leaned into the screen, "that was planned. It goes to her legend. She needed an incident to prompt a reason for having some kind of hand-to-hand skills. Its on record now that she took a free women's course taught by the NYPD, one of their S.W.A.T. members. It was necessary Major."

"How planned was it," Dannigan asked and instantly regretted it.

Lyssa sighed, "not good enough. It took her four evenings of parading around for six hours just to lure somebody in. She was tempted to scrap the plan and take out her frustration on him."

Dannigan shook his head, "forget I asked."

Krystel laughed, "well we definitely don't have to worry about her looks. She got so many phone numbers she could start her own phone book!"

"I could have survived the day without that Evanson. Find the terrorists, preferably BEFORE they make the news," Dannigan said and signed off.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Hammad drove under the posted speed limit. They would be in Kansas the next day. An advance man had been sent already to set up a safe-house and start the surveillance. Recruitment and radicalizing of disillusioned Americans had stalled. Someone had gotten very smart and used islamic law against them. When confronted, the Muftis and Imams had to admit that conversion to Islam meant nothing if the man was circumcised. That revelation all but slammed the door on western recruitment. He took a drink of the convenience store coffee and wanted to gag. Americans made coffee too strong and bitter. He would admit, it will keep you awake during driving. Between the coffee and the food he believed he would soon lose what little control he had. If it weren't for fried chicken places he wouldn't trust any kind of meat at all. No place announced being Hallah.

The plan was good. It would be a solid strike at the American politicians. He knew the Congressman of Kansas before taking the current seat as Speaker of the House had been chairman of the armed services committee and previously the intelligence committee. He had the influence to have prisoners released if he so chose. He would not,of course, and the price would be paid by his only child. A boy. Hammad had seven men with him, another six were on their way to Galveston, Texas. They would secure a boat. In case anything went wrong his group would join that one and use the boat to cross the Gulf of Mexico to Tampa, Florida. The third splinter group of three would hide themselves there. They would also make preliminary observations of the current head of the working group known as CyberForce. There were actually two groups. One stayed protected within Fort Meade, Maryland. The other worked out of the Naval base in Tampa. The one in Tampa was the more critical group.

The remaining four members of the cell were staying behind in New York to coordinate and communicate between the groups. By keeping that group in place it would confuse the federal agencies. They were not using any cellular phones at all. Instead they were using an internet service. As WiFi was free to use in so many places it was a more practical and secure method of communication. In Kansas City they would use a pre-paid cellphone to make contact with their target. Hammad drove on with a cold smile.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 2

Tiffany sat in the comfortable chair facing the wide desk.

"So how may I help you Miss Davareaux," Kent Dalton asked.

"I'm glad you received my retainer," Tiffany said casually.

First thing that morning one hundred thousand dollars had been wired to the fixer's account after a request for an appointment. An hour later Tiffany was called and given a time. She now faced the slick New Yorker.

Tiffany began, "I'm looking for some property. I like my privacy, yet I still need city access. A place that I can store my car indoors. What I need is probably something along the lines of a commercial space that I can convert."

Kent was checking a laptop, "rent, lease or purchase?"

"Purchase please," Tiffany replied.

Kent stopped tapping the keys, tapped again then stared at the screen.

"Can you be ready to purchase today," he asked.

Tiffany nodded, "if the property is right."

He tapped some keys then stood up and walked over to large plasma screen that had looked like a digital portrait. It now displayed a three story building with a basement that looked like a warehouse. He went into detail about the place then turned back.

"Would this serve your needs," Kent asked.

Tiffany smiled, "I believe it would Mr. Dalton."

Kent smiled, "normally a property such as this would go for several million dollars. But if you can purchase in one hour and be able to sign the papers, it can be yours for only eight hundred-fifty thousand dollars."

"I can call to have the payment transferred right now," She replied.

"One moment please," Dalton asked then went through a side door.

He returned three minutes later and held out a slip of paper. Tiffany knew the series of numbers were for an account. She called and transferred the money. Kent smiled.

"How else may I be of service today," He asked.

"I'd like a current year Lincoln Navigator, silver and Dodge Challenger. I would also like an appointment with modification technician. Could you also recommend an interior designer," Tiffany listed.

Kent had been making notes, "The vehicles can be delivered first thing in the morning and the Dodge will be delivered by a technician. I know a couple of designers that specialize in commercial to residential conversion. I'll have to confirm a time with you tomorrow. A driver will take you over to the location in about four hours. A gentleman will meet you there to sign the papers and give you the keys. There will be a lock service and alarm technician after the papers are signed to change the locks and alarm codes. I assure you Miss Davareaux; everything will meet with your approval."

He had stood up and come around his desk offering his hand. Tiffany understood this was the closing of the meeting. She took his hand and stood up.

"So far your service is outstanding Mr. Dalton. I'm so glad you granted my appointment," Tiffany smiled.

Kent kissed her hand, "Kent, please. Its my pleasure to meet such a talented dancer. Perhaps you might help me when you're a Principal dancer."

Tiffany understood, "Tiffany. Box seats shouldn't be a problem Kent."

Kent handed her a card, "an exclusive limo service. Billed directly to your account here. Security provided. Your name will be added to the list and be available in six hours. Have a wonderful day Tiffany."

"Thank you Kent. Much appreciated. You have a great day as well," Tiffany said and left.

Four hours later she walked into the building with new keys and alarm code. She started with the basement first. It would serve as a small arms range after some specialized modifications. The ground floor provided more than adequate parking for the vehicles she would have. The first floor would be remodeled as a large gathering area for entertaining. The second floor would be turned into a dance studio and gym. The third floor would be remodeled loft style to a living area. It would take two weeks but worth it.

Tiffany knew Lyssa had a place in New York. Actually she knew Lyssa had a residence and two bolt-holes in New York. Operators maintained one or more locations to cache weapons and other needed supplies. Lyssa had those in the major cities she frequented such as New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Rome, Milan, Moscow, Tokyo, Rio De Janiero, Amsterdam, Munich, Geneva, Vienna, Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Mykonos and Athens that Tiffany knew of. Tiffany also knew Rodrick had two locations in CONUS; Long Beach, California and Jacksonville, Florida. He also had two locations outside the U.S. One in Marseilles and one in Sydney, Australia. All of them had a bail-out kit in Nassau consisting of a go-bag, clean passport, weapons and money. They all had escape and evade routes as well. Carl and Eddie had a sailboat and would head for Key West, Rodrick had a small plane and would take Warlock to Miami then up to Jacksonville. Pete had the most dangerous bail-out. He would catch a flight to Cuba. Once there he would become a Marine once again and take a Hop, military flight, back to the U.S. Kimberly and LoneStar would take a charter flight to Grand Cayman, Lyssa would fly commercial to Rio and Krystel would board a cruise ship to Mexico. From there they would move twice then all converge on Switzerland. Children and dogs had changed things drastically.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Son of a bitch. I GOT 'EM," Krystel called out.

Kimberly looked over, "verified?"

Krystel nodded, "yes Ma'am. They snuck in through the port on a freighter but I have them. From there I tracked them around New York using the cameras. I lost the three groups after the turnpike but I have the New York contingent cold."

Kimberly went through and double-check everything. Krystel was dead-on. She made up the packet and sent it out. with a copy to Dannigan. Krystel was now trying to hack into their computer. Two burn-phones were on the location but only local calls that were nothing. The upside was they were stealing WiFi from an adjacent building. The downside was it was all voice communications. Krystel would have to intercept the messages during a session. This was where having a team of two came into play. They would have to take twelve hour shifts to catch them. Kimberly's computer pinged. Tiffany had received the packet. She was now planning. She would make her incursion that night. Kimberly sent Dannigan confirmation. He acknowledged.

The clock was now running and Tiffany was on her own.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany wanted to shake her head in amusement. There was a surveillance van parked across the street and twenty yards away from her new property. She unlocked the door and went inside to deactivate the alarm. The van was very old so she guessed it was NYPD and not Federal agents.

'They must be in a frenzy trying to figure out who I am by now. Whatever has their attention was already removed before I ever signed the papers,' Tiffany thought to herself.

Ten minutes later a silver Lincoln Navigator pulled inside the large door. and parked. Within five minutes the remote had been set to the large roll-up door. She signed the papers and accepted the keys. The driver informed her the title, registration and plates would be dropped off that afternoon. As he left the Dodge Challenger pulled in. The young man greeted her then popped the hood. Tiffany pointed out what she wanted done then signed the papers. The tech then drove the car out with assurance it would be returned that afternoon. She was expecting the interior designer any time now and wasn't disappointed. A woman knocked then smiled and walked in.

"Miss Davareaux? I'm Carol Stanley," She introduced herself and offered her card.

Tiffany smiled back, "thank you for coming out. My sponsor acquired this building for me to use and as you can see, its in quite a state."

Carol smiled, "I have a great team and I'm sure you'll be happy. You gave me a quick outline so I believe I can have you ready by the middle of next week."

Tiffany unrolled a large sheet, "here's what I had in mind."

After ten minutes the designer smiled, "I see no problems whatsoever."

Tiffany reached into her purse, "I have a corporate check for you here."

The designer took the check, "I'll have my people start first thing in the morning. It'll be a pleasure creating for you!"

"I look forward to your ideas. I have to go now, but I'll be here first thing in the morning to let you and your people in," Tiffany said.

Tiffany left after locking up. The urge to giggle was hard to resist when she spotted the tail. She had no reason to evade so she led him all the way to Julliard and spotted him looking into the studio. He was shocked to see her in dancewear and working with the other dancers. At four she left and returned to the warehouse. The two men were back. She opened the door and let them in. After parking the Dodge the technician went over all the modifications and handed her the keys and paperwork. The other man, that had delivered the Lincoln installed the license plate then handed her the paperwork. Both bid her a good evening and left after setting the remote in the Dodge to the door as well. Tiffany took the Dodge and left.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"So what have you got on this chick," Detective Nunez asked.

"Tiffany Davareaux. Grew up in Louisiana. Current Residence: Nassau, Bahamas. She's listed as working small parts in some productions outside the States. Currently enrolled at Julliard in an advanced program and slotted to go to Moscow in four or five months. Sponsored by a consulting firm out of Nassau," Another officer read from a sheet.

Nunez asked, "what?"

Artello replied, "she's a ballerina. Model, too. Some print in Europe, no covers. The building is now listed as corporate holding. Those vehicles too. There's a report here that she got mugged a few weeks ago. Purse got snatched. She took our self defense course. Other than that, nothing. This is her first time in New York."

"You're saying this chick pops up out of nowhere, buys the building and she's clean," Nunez asked.

The younger officer nodded, "yep. Everything's legit as far as she's concerned. She is who and what she says she is. The woman that met her is an interior designer. The check she paid her with is on the up and up. Corporate account with Bank of America. I even made some calls. She's top of that advanced class. Word is she's going to that super high echelon academy in Moscow for ballet when she's done here."

"I don't get it," Nunez shook his head.

Artello leaned back in the chair, "some companies do that. They finance artists and athletes. The company puts up the money and they give the company a face for the public to look at. Dancers, models, athletes. How do you think some of those people get to the Olympics? They have sponsors. Its a tax write-off for a company and it makes them look good. Whatever Munzio had in there is long gone now. He wouldn't let anybody get inside that building if he had anything in there."

"Essentially we're blown. FUCK," Nunez shouted.

The unit tailing her reported she had went to an apartment. The apartment was leased under the same company but only for another month. He also remarked that she was a careful and courteous driver.

Nunez rolled his eyes at that. He didn't understand it. Who was this chick, why did she suddenly buy the building that nobody knew was for sale and what was her connection to Munzio?

"Keep the tail on her. I wanna know the second she meets with Munzio or his crew," Nunez ordered.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany opened the secure email and went through the packet Kimberly sent. She had already received her tasking code. The location suspected of being the cell's site made her frown. It was definitely out of the way. There were no clubs or restaurants nearby to justify her presence casually. She'd have to invent a reason to be in the area. After thinking for ten minutes it came to her. Something Lyssa said once. Use what you have going on if you can. Lyssa had created a foundation to sponsor a dancer to college to get close to target AO once.

"I'm moving into a place. I need stuff for it," Tiffany said then grabbed the daily newspaper and checked the notices.

She found three ads for items. Two were for furniture and one was for an apartment's contents. Tiffany called them and set up appointments. All three would receive her so she touched up then went down to her new car. Her tail was still with her but it didn't matter. She was about to school them in the fine art of being bored to tears. If they thought following her around all day was a waste of time, they were about to find new levels of frustration. All the appointments were with elderly women. Informative for her, sheer aggravation for the cops following her. The smile was all real when Tiffany buzzed her first visit. Within minutes she was in and looking at a forty year old bedroom set while listening to the woman chatter away about everyone within six blocks. After an hour Tiffany came up dry but did have a vintage set of furniture that would be picked up in the morning.

Her next stop made her want to laugh. The widow was Italian and very informed as to what was going on that she did find interesting to her personally but not relevant to the operation. It seemed the building she just bought was sold to her by one of the local mafia underbosses under investigation. The illegal goods that had been kept there had been removed the day before in the early afternoon. She also gave her five more places to check for antiques. She kept her third appointment and it garnered her a dining table and chairs along with a china cabinet.

The next day was saturday and more of the same. When she came out of the second stop carrying a box Tiffany noticed her watchers take interest. She decided to have some fun. Tiffany set the box on the trunk of the Challenger and lifted out a china teapot and admired it then a matching cup. When the cop in the passenger seat laid his head back in disgust she pretended to smile with joy at her prize. In truth she was enjoying the torment of her watchers' boredom. Tiffany loaded the box into the trunk of her car and drove to her next stop giggling to herself.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Palioski what's the latest," Nunez asked over the radio.

The junior detective answered, "she made a BIG score! A tea set! The last stop she picked up a silver service. Odds are now three to one that she picks up a set of china next. Five to one for living room furniture since she got bedroom and dining room furniture last night. I never knew antiquing could be SO stimulating. We should have brought the wives and compare notes."

Nunez wanted to swear over the radio at their sarcasm, even though it was well founded. It was verified that from two of the three locations the Davareaux woman went to last night, furniture was picked up that morning and brought to the warehouse. She was driving them all crazy with her randomness.

Artello off to the side simply shook his head, "I told ya, she was clean. At least Palioski and Deturo have a good looking woman to look at. It could be worse. They could be stuck in here with you."

Nunez tossed the handheld radio onto the counter, "I'm surrounded by ASSHOLES!"

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany finally hit pay-dirt on her fourth stop. Not only did she find two persian rugs in great condition, she found out that a block over there had been a large group of men speaking Farsi that were new and had more than two vehicles. The group had started out large but now was small. The old woman had been surprised and delighted when Tiffany greeted her in fluent German. The woman's building bordered the slowly expanding Islamic section. After calling for the rugs to be picked up Tiffany wandered down to the corner. A small Mom 'n Pop store and deli was there. She ordered a bratwurst on a kaiser roll. The couple were fourth generation American but due to the demographic spoke German. They were surprised when Tiffany did as well.

Her efforts were rewarded in the store. Two men came in speaking Farsi. One asking the other if there was any news and the other replying that the main group would contact them from the Kansas city safe-house that night. Tiffany bought another bottle of water and bid the couple good day.

" Gutten tag," Tiffany called out waving.

The two cops following her had come into the store as well and grabbed something to eat as well. She was sure that if they had really been checking her out they'd now know she spoke Russian, Italian and German. None of which should be surprising. She had been featured in German and Italian Vogue magazines and it was common knowledge she was going to be going to Moscow in a few months. Tiffany knew which building the Arabic men were in. She would visit them later on.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 3

Hammad and his group had finally arrived in Kansas City. They met the advance man as arranged at a large wholesale club off the Interstate. He led them to a three story apartment building that looked like it should have been condemned ten years ago. The building stood right at the edge of where a residential area met a commercial. The van was parked in a side lot and they all went inside. The sun had already set, allowing them to go inside under the cover of darkness.

"How many are in the building," Hammad asked in Farsi.

The advance man laughed, "none but ourselves. It took a while to get the other tenants to leave but I managed and two months ago the fake company bought it. We are alone here but we have everything we need."

"Good. What about the boy? Have you been watching him carefully Samir," Hammad asked.

" Of course. Our window is closing, as the infidels say. In nine days the boy will go away to a camp for soccer players. Saturday he has a match," Samir informed him.

Hammad nodded, "then Allah smiles on us for arriving soon enough. We'll take the boy after his match. He will be distracted by a win or loss and not pay attention. I already know Congressman Brice will arrive sometime Saturday afternoon."

Samir nodded, "I have a room already for planning and another beside it to hold the boy. This way."

Samir led him down the hall and into another apartment. The main room had a large table from a sheet of plywood set on crude saw horses with pages all over it. The walls had pictures, maps and time schedules covering them. A laptop sat on the counter between the kitchen and main room connected to a cable modem.

"Leave me," Hammad said and began to look over everything.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany opened the conference window on her laptop.

"I'm up," Tiffany said.

Kimberly greeted her, "Clear?"

Tiffany nodded, "for the most part. Cops bugged this apartment. One in the phone, bathroom vanity light, bedside lamp and the main room under the coffee table. Amateur hour here. They're currently listening to a previous recording of me taking a bubble bath on one bug and my favorite chillmix on the others. Playing with them is getting old quick and I need to work now."

"What did you find," Kimberly asked.

Tiffany uploaded the two pictures, "H.A.T. One and H.A.T. Two."

H.A.T.: Hotel Alpha Tango. Code for Hostile Arabic Terrorist. Similar to the designation Victor Charlie for VietCong. Kimberly was already moving at warp speed. The super array,Onyssius, worked facial recognition through all U.S. agencies along with D.O.D. and Interpol.

Tiffany also gave her the address. Kimberly went into city planning and pulled the building's blueprints file along with services to the building.

"I have them on the fourth floor west side. Apartment four-eleven. Fire Escape is on the north side," Kimberly informed her.

Tiffany looked at the window, "What's on the roof?"

A moment later a still picture came up and Kimberly said, "some type of shack. Possible off the books resident, status unknown."

Tiffany nodded, "evade if possible, neutralize if necessary on rooftop. What about main?"

Kimberly listed, "identify remaining H.A.T.s, infiltrate all electronics and make a record of any pertinent documents. Do you have a secure site?"

Tiffany shook her head, "negative. New York's finest is still all over me. I'm trying to let nature take its course but I get the feeling that whoever is running the team is going off of principle now."

"I'll see if they can be dissuaded tomorrow or the next day. In and out job. Do not engage if at all possible," Kimberly sighed.

Tiffany leaned back in the chair, "ok. I'll begin to infiltrate the site in three hours."

Kimberly confirmed and closed out, "three hours. Usual Ops rig."

Tiffany closed out her side then began studying the building.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Kimberly went into the NYPD's mainframe through a backdoor. She found the warrants for the surveillance on Tiffany's warehouse but no warrants for her apartment. She sent an email to Internal Affairs. In it she detailed the locations of the listening devices and even the serial numbers, which she'd gotten from the inventory log. Also she noted that the warehouse he'd had under watch was no longer owned by the previous party.

"That should get Detective Nunez' attention," Kimberly said.

The other terminal beeped. She went over and looked. Facial recognition hit on one of the pictures.

Kimberly went after more information, "well mister bad guy. Who are you and what do you do?"

She didn't like what she found. Both were first generation. Immigration records detailed that one came from Syria and the other came from an Iraqi town along the border. They both were born and raised in the U.S. but had left three years prior and disappeared after entering Spain. That was a short hop from Morocco. From there they could easily make their way to any number of training camps. The bad part was they had never officially re-entered the country. They had slipped in with the large group. This made things worse. Unlike other terrorists penetrating CONUS, these guys were born citizens. They had knowledge and documents that were first hand and real. They could walk the walk and talk the talk to blend in if they wanted to and yet still have all the linguistics and customs down cold to hide within sympathetic communities. It made them even more dangerous. She updated the Major, knowing he would send a response in the morning.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany had turned off the digital players and replaced the bugs where she found them and got dressed. Her form-fitted battle suit and boots but rolled the sleeves back far enough to hide under the turned up sleeves of a grey over-size blouse cinched with a wide black belt. Her weapons and harness she stuffed into a shoulder bag along with a small make-up kits and remover wipes. Time to give the cops something better to do than fantasize about her in a tub full of scented foam. She also sent a text to the limo service.

Sure enough, they followed her Challenger to the club she led them to. It only took five minutes to lose them inside and slip out a VIP exit. Two blocks away she met the limo.

"Where to Ma'am," the driver asked.

Tiffany gave him an address and told him to park behind it. Thirty minutes later he pulled in as directed and parked.

"No need to get out. Stay as you are. I'm not sure how long I'll be," Tiffany said and got out.

She moved casually down the alley. Once out of sight of the limo she slipped off the blouse then put on the weapons rig and painted her facial camo from memory. Finally she switched on the camera on her shoulder strap then the bluetooth that was pre-programmed to call the hangar. The call would be through an encrypted satellite phone. She was going with the soft-probe penetration. Two Glock .40 cal. autoloaders with attached silencers on each thigh, a latest generation Fairbarne-Sikes Commando knife at the back of her right thigh. It was made of a carbon fiber composite. Two of the poison micro-syrettes were tucked into her boots. The small pouch at her waist contained her electronic bare essentials; digital camera that could also take video, a flashdrive that actually was for breaking a device's security and implanting a backdoor access for Kimberly and Krystel to use anytime, another that automatically copied everything up to four hundred gigabytes of data. Another pouch held her intrusion set; key-card and data-pad, powder for raising fingerprints, lock-picks and an old fashioned blank credit card. in another pouch was a small aerosol can. It contained an acid that activated when it came in contact with air.

Tiffany walked down the alley until she reached the building. A jump gained her the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder. Apparently someone was using it on a regular basis, it came down quietly. She went all the way up to the roof. The shack on top of the roof was occupied, there was light coming from a curtained window and the noise from a television could be heard. Tiffany was able to move down the stairs two floors. In the hallway the hall lights were low enough. One by one, she was able to reach up and unscrew them just enough to darken the hall. Tiffany stopped at the apartment she was looking for and listened for a moment. It was quiet inside so she took out her picks and worked the pins within the tumbler. First went the deadbolt then the knob. She eased the door open but saw the chain. a simple piece of bent coat hanger unlatched it.

The main room was empty and almost dark. A light from the interior hallway cast enough light for her to see. A laptop sat on the table. A set of headphones with microphone were connected so Tiffany switched it on. The headphones muted the bootup sequence. Tiffany plugged the security breaking flashdrive in. A moment later the screen went immediately to the desktop. A prompt came up so Tiffany switch to the other flashdrive device. It copied everything off the drive. While that was going on she used the digital camera to take pictures of everything. Maps and notes written in Arabic and English. A boat in Galveston, Texas. A building in Kansas City and anothr building in Tampa, Florida. A name in English grabbed her attention. Robert Brice. It sounded familiar.

Tiffany suddenly wanted to groan. Hopefully they weren't referring to Congressman Robert Brice. He was the current speaker of the house. He was one of many that were lucky. He was a true political animal but not so much he'd sell his soul to that bunch called LOG. He'd been around so long he had known better. Sitting on the Armed Services and Intelligence Committees had made him leery of groups that could be considered too far right-winged. A door opened in the back and a man stepped out rubbing his eyes. He was immediately attracted by the blu-ish light from the main room.

The Glock practically leapt into her hand and she triggered off a round. Her training hadn't slipped at all. The .40 caliber round blasted through his head.

"And so flies the burning wings of fury on cold winds. I am death; calling your names," Tiffany said to herself as the body dropped to the floor.

Quickly she went to the room he had exited and looked in. Twin beds were inside. She triggered off a round into the head of the man stirring. She then eased open a second door and looked in. Again there were twin beds and they were occupied. Her knife ensured they'd never awaken. A tap to the bluetooth made a call to the hangar.

"Go," Kimberly answered.

"Possible blown Op. Four H.A.T.s downed," Tiffany said.

Kimberly pulled up Tiffany's location, "status."

Tiffany sighed, "I own the AO for the next hour if needed. Backdoor installed on the laptop."

Kimberly began typing, "get me a hard connection."

Tiffany connected to the internet then backed to a DOS-Prompt and connected to the IP Kimberly called out.

"Ok Dove go ahead and sanitize while I kill the laptop," Kimberly instructed her.

Tiffany went to the bedroom and began policing her spent brass and round, then from the body in the hall. There was no bleach or straight ammonia. All they had was an old bottle of glass cleaner. Tiffany sprayed every surface she'd touched even though she'd worn gloves. She used pieces of paper and wrote numbers on them and took pictures of each face then tucked the number into ziploc bag along with a blood stained paper towel.

"All four tagged. What else do you want," Tiffany asked.

Kimberly replied, "send it to Washington. Upload everything else to me when you get back to your place. The Laptop is done. Exfiltrate. We'll debrief when you get clear."

"Roger that," Tiffany said and disconnected.

Tiffany took one last one last look around. She shook her head at the body laying in the hall. There was a large puddle of urine soaking into the carpet.

"If only you could have held off taking a piss longer," Tiffany said then locked the door knob and left.

A block away she removed her gear and facial camo then returned to the limo.

"Where to Ma'am," the driver asked.

"Do you know where one of those twenty-four hour mail service places is," Tiffany asked.

The driver nodded, "yes Ma'am. I'll head there now."

Tiffany re-applied her make-up. Fifteen minutes later she was standing at a counter in a Mail 'n More. She tucked in the memory card, flashdrive and plastic bags and addressed it to the Washington office and sent it out rush service. The Major would have it in twenty-four hours. She then had the driver return her to the club. Tiffany slipped back in via the VIP door. She strolled right through and went out the front then drove herself back to the apartment.

 

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Chapter 4

Detective Nunez was confused. Why would the Captain want him first thing in the morning? Two guys in suit were waiting in the Captain's office when he walked in

"Have seat Gerry," Captain Billings said.

Gerry Nunez sat down, "what's up Cap?"

One of the suits asked, "what's the connection between Munzio and a Tiffany Davareaux?"

Gerry got angry, "she bought a building he owned. A building that wasn't for sale."

"That's not what we're asking. What's her connection? Is she sleeping with him, dating him, answering his phone, what," the other suit asked.

"I don't know," Gerry answered.

"Has she been seen in his company at all," The first guy asked.

Gerry sighed, "no."

The other asked, "called him? Wrote a letter?"

Gerry stared at him, "no."

"So she has no ties to the case other than she bought the building. Has the building been searched since she took ownership," Suit one asked.

Gerry stared, "yeah. We didn't find anything. What's your point?"

"Then why'd you bug her apartment and phone? Where's the warrant for that," Suit Two asked.

Nunez glared, 'did one of my guys go to IAD?"

"We get an email from a service that doesn't exist that states listening devices, locations and serial numbers. You have two options. Pull all surveillance on Tiffany Davareaux and take a week off, or we can do it and you get reassigned to patrolman in another precinct. Either way this is where she starts being left alone. Take your pick," Suit one stated.

Gerry Nunez was angry now, "Cap there's something going on! This chick comes out of no where and buys the building. She's connected!"

Suit one showed him the title, "she doesn't own it. Its owned by a Consulting firm in the Bahamas. They're her sponsor. Its listed as a private dance studio and corporate lodge. Two cars are registered to the same address in her name but were bought by the same firm and they're also on the utilities. That firm has her and some other girl. A model from the Bahamas. They do PR work. Shut down the stalking before she figures it out and files a complaint."

"Cap," Gerry protested.

The Captain shook his head, "sorry Ger. IAD is right on this one. Pull the bugs and detail. Do it now."

Detective Nunuez slammed the door on his way out.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany looked at her phone. The text message set her on edge.

SD. status upgrade: standby for no-notice deployment. Arrange air travel. Office.

Tiffany deleted the message then called the bank in Zurich again. She transferred another one hundred thousand dollars to the Fixer's account then called him.

"Tiffany. I hope the limo service met with your approval," Kent Dalton asked

Tiffany turned on the charm, "oh of course it did! Kent I do need something though. There's a small business matter that may require my very urgent attention. I'd like to book a charter plane. A Learjet. If the problem sorts itself out in the next three days or so then I won't need to go. Would twenty thousand have transportation fueled and waiting for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours?"

"Oh that sounds very serious. I can arrange that. Anything else I can do to help with the problem," Kent asked.

Tiffany gentled her voice, "I don't think so. Things sort out themselves or they don't. You know how it is."

The Fixer laughed, "I certainly do. For you, twenty thousand will have a Lear waiting until monday morning. To hold it until tuesday would have to be thirty."

Tiffany sighed, "very well. Thirty for until tuesday. Thank you Kent. I'll call you as soon as I know what I'm doing."

She disconnected and went back to the apartment. It was obvious someone had been inside again. Tiffany ran a sweep and found all the bugs had been removed, not relocated. That was fine to her. None of her weapons or other gear had been discovered. She readied her go-bag and waited.

 
 
 
 
 

Tiffany Davareaux cameos in Chrysalis Project: Ghost Moth The Dark and The Angel, LKM 41- Angels and Animosity and returns in Chrysalis Project: Dove's fury
 

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 2: Ghost Moth The Dark and The Angel   Shawna is settling in to her new home but   not advertising the fact. It seems there   is a local stigma attached to her house.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

---

 

 
 
 
CHAPTER 1

Nicole; nicky, and her brother Daniel walked casually down the sidewalk. They'd left on time for a change so they weren't in the usual rush to get to school. Several paces after turning the corner Nicky started to lag behind.

Daniel noticed and called out," C'mon nicky or we'll have to run to make it on time!"

Nicky looked to her right and shivered. They were passing The House. 'Dark House', everybody called the old empty manor. All school children gossiped about it being haunted. Local urban legend held that over twenty years ago a group of school boys managed their way inside on a dare to spend the night. The legend held that they had been attacked by ghosts, spirits or such and one of the boys had been left behind frozen in terror, never to be seen or heard from again. Both Daniel and Nicky knew the legend was wrong as their father had been one of the boys and he assured them that none of the boys had been harmed other than a few bruises and scrapes after being startled by what turned out to be a raccoon that lurked inside. Even with that reassurance Nicky still felt dread when being around the house and forced her feet to keep moving as panic rose within her. Something about it lately though, different. Like, someone there, watching them. Nicky thought she saw something move and what sounded like a door gently shutting.

"NICKY! COME ON," Daniel called out frustrated now.

Nicky froze, she had seen a curtain move in a window. She was certain of it. Daniel stomped back and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

She protested, "I saw I saw."

"Nothin'. Just your imagination Nicky. You're making us late. Again," Daniel complained pulling her along.

Ten minutes later they finally walked into school and went to their separate classes for the day.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Blake Jacobsen closed the third and last file. His friends in the Marines gave him the nickname BlackJack and it stuck. He didn't mind being Police Chief. The town was small, problems were actually rare. Mostly it was minor fender benders or wildlife-car accidents, the occasional argument that got out of hand and every now and then an actual DUI after a party that ran late. He'd gotten the job after leaving the Marines in which he'd been the Provost Marshal. Leaving The Corps had been hard on everyone but hands were tied; a single parent was frowned on. He took the hardship discharge and came home two days after the Police Chief had a heart attack on duty, luckily in his office first thing in the morning. His father-in-law was a great help even though a widower himself, but the elderly man couldn't raise two children their ages all by himself.

It was just after ten in the morning when Blake finished preparing the shift reports and slipped them into the file folders to go out to the watch-desk when the unmistakable voice carried to him from the front counter.

"Chief Jacobsen; I must see him immediately," she demanded.

Blake walked out, "What is it Mrs. Herrington?"

The Mayor's wife looked agitated that he didn't know already, but reset her haughty expression.

" Its come to MY attention that; strange noises, have been heard over at 'DarkHouse'. In fact Agatha Bexter told me that just last night she thought she saw a light or two on very late. One in the morning," she informed him, "What have you found out?"

Blake resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes or smirk as he casually recounted, "During the course of the department's investigation we've uncovered unsubstantiated reports of 'strange noises' and one rumor of explained lights being seen around zero-one hundred at the premises known locally as DarkHouse. Further details are sketchy and not available at this time as this is an ongoing investigation."

The filing clerk stifled her laugh with a cough. The lead officer had to turn his head and force his eyes and lips closed to keep from laughing as well. Mrs. Herrington stood there gaping as he waited then finally found her voice

"Chief Jacobsen," she began but was cut off.

"Correct! I am the Chief. Not you. When things go on that warrant our attention they get reported to MY officers to be attended to in due course. NOT to be filed in that whatever it is you call a brain until you get around to coming to me with an attitude. I've humored you so far. I see now that it was in error," Blake reached under the counter and pulled out a series of ten forms.

Mrs. Herrington stood there slack-jawed.

He slipped the papers under the bar of a clipboard with a pen then held it out, "Fill out these forms. Completely."

Priscilla Herrington edged back, as if he threatened her with a shovel of manure instead of a clipboard with papers.

"World of Law Enforcement. 90% aggravation, 5% confusion, 4% boredom and 1% job satisfaction. Wanna be a Cop," he asked nonchalantly.

As if taking radioactive waste she hesitantly accepted the clipboard. The very intent look said without doubt he fully meant her to fill each and every single form out. Twenty minutes later he took the forms and flipped through them.

"Ok. I'll check it out," Blake remarked.

"Good! I'll meet you there in five minutes," Priscilla stated, back to her haughty self.

"I'll there in about thirty minutes. Or so. Go inside that fence and I'll arrest you for trespassing of course," he replied passing the forms off to the clerk.

Blake then returned to his office for his gun belt and go-bag. Priscilla sat in her car straining not to shriek at him as Blake took his time check then load his gear into the SUV as well as the SUV itself. Finally he started it and took a very circuitous route through town to the house in question. Blake called in his location and status; out of the vehicle investigating suspicious activity. The Marine in him took over at the gate. He took note of the frequently stepped down grass. That and if you actually looked further one could see two feet beyond the fence the lawn had been mowed to precision. Approaching the front porch he also noticed the flowerbeds. They had been recently replanted. Briskly he knocked at the door and waited. Ninety seconds later he gingerly tried the knob, it turned easily and soundlessly. Breaking the thumb-strap on his holster he eased in.

"Wait out here," Blake hissed to the plump woman trying to conceal anxiety.

Cautiously he fully entered. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he heard music, piano music. Blake stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned quickly when Priscilla whispered.

"Shouldn't we be wearing masks? it might be a drug lab in here," she said nervously.

Blake glared," I told you. Outside."

"Can I help you," a clear, feminine voice asked from the stairs.

Priscilla barely contained her yelp of fright as Blake whirled back around, tracking. His sight-line zero'ed at the figure standing casually midpoint of the staircase. His mind raced, first the fact that the woman had not been there a moment ago. Focusing more, how did she move from a point of concealment to over twelve feet down the stairs soundlessly. wearing high heeled boots at that.

"And you are," the heavyset woman asked irritated at being frightened.

Blake watched as the woman clad in black leggings and poet blouse with a dull wide black belt and tall boots descended the stairs with muted footsteps until the third riser.

She look at both and said casually, "Wondering why I have intruders? In my home? I do hope, for your sake; that she is with the Prosecutor's Office. With an entry warrant, Chief Jacobsen."

Blake shook himself mentally. He'd been immersed in the sight of her raven hair and cobalt eyes. That is, until she said his name. Though her tone seemed charming. Her eyes were displaying otherwise. He could also swear the air around them suddenly got thirty degrees colder. More importantly she knew who he was, and certainly seemed to believe of the two that she was the superior.

Mrs. Herrington finally found her composure again, "well. There are community standards here and we'd certainly like to know your plans for DarkHouse Mrs."

"Its Miss. Shawna Daniels. And you can shove your standards. On your way out," Shawna looked down and pinned the woman with a glare that could freeze spewing lava in place.

Blake knew a situation that could go from zero to F.U.B.A.R. in heartbeats when he saw it and turned, taking Priscilla by the arm.

"Miss Daniels. Most sincere apologies for disturbing you. Please pardon the intrusion. I assure you, it WON'T be happening again," he said pulling the woman with him.

He all but dragged the plump woman out of the house and didn't stop until he was out the gate shoving her into her car.

"Get your hands OFF of me," Priscilla spouted.

Blake growled back at her, "Lucky I don't cuff your ass. Get off this property and don't come back!"

He dialed the Mayor's line as he got back into the SUV and barked, "Your wife has made me look like an idiot for the LAST TIME! MY office. FIVE minutes!"

Within three minutes Blake was back at the station parking in a screech of tires. The four officers and file clerk all but leapt out of his way as he stormed through to his office and logged into the federal database. He ran the name Shawna Daniels and particulars, including the address of DarkHouse. Female, caucasian, twenty-five to thirty-five with black hair and blue eyes. Minutes later a startling single result came back. The was no photo of her and details were listed as Access Denied. At the bottom however there was something that was startling.

Current Tasking: Special Investigator; Senate Sub-Committee for Counter-Action. J-12.

"OH FUCK ME NO," Blake swore pressing his fingers to his temples then bellowed, "the fuck is the Mayor?"

"Right here Blake. What's your problem," Bradley Herrington demanded.

Blake surged to his feet and grabbed the mayor by the lapels then dragged him back to sit in front of the computer screen.

"Damn wife of yours! Thinks she owns the fucking town. Instead of me and my department doing our job, she withholds information then comes down here and bulldozes past procedure, due process and now thanks to her there's the extremely strong chance that this woman is pissed off," Blake yelled at him after slamming the door.

The Mayor looked at the screen and read what information was there with slowly widening eyes.

He pointed and asked, "J-12. What's that mean?"

Blake closed his eyes and counted to himself then answered, "Federal Weapons Possession Rating. Code: Juliet. Level: Twelve. Highest there is. The Director of the NSA doesn't even have it. In simple terms, she has the authority to excute a traitor, on the spot, on the White House lawn. Even if its the President himself. During a press conference."

The Mayor blanched and his mouth hung open as he looked to the screen and back, "you can't be serious! That's too extreme to be real. Isn't it? Seriously? Such people don't exist. Do they?"

Blake Jacobsen never blinked, he silently nodded slowly. Bradley Herrington swallowed slowly.

"What can be done," Bradley asked.

Blake glared, "Start with reminding your wife that she doesn't own the fucking town. Secondly: complaints, concerns, tips, et cetera are to be reported to the department; not HER! Lastly: I work for the city, not her. She stays away from us doing our jobs. Clear?"

Bradley Herrington nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll see if things can be smoothed over. If they can be," Blake added.

Herrington considered that then said, "Please inform Miss, uh, Daniels that the Mayor's Office would like to extend a formal apology if that would be acceptable; and a standing appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps some flowers when you go?"

Blake held up his hand cutting in, "Brad. Just the apology. Sucking up won't help."

Bradley nodded, "hmmm. Right. Courtsey and respect would fair better than flattery. Good luck then. I'll deal with Priscilla. Absolutely right, she has gone too far long enough."

The Mayor stood and walked out.

 

~o~O~o~
 

It was mid-afternoon when Shawna heard a girl's shriek of fright punctuated with a boy's yell to run. Seconds later she saw the children in question bolting through her gate, which didn't close fast enough to stop a very large rottweiler chasing them. Unknowingly the two ran straight towards her and had almost drawn even when the little girl tripped and stumbled into the dirt. Shawna stepped from the arbor she'd been tying rose vines to, revealing herself

Shawna commanded in german, "HALTEN!"

The dog ignored her so she repeated the order in dutch, "OPHOUDEN!!"

The large dog skidded and slid on the grass to obey. A silent hand signal and the dog sat panting. Both children looked back and forth between the dog and the darkly clad woman approaching.

"Children. Very slowly; get up and go wait for me on the porch," she said in a gentle voice.

Shawna stared the dog down then ordered, " HUIS! ENFIN!"

She had ordered it to go home which it immediately complied.

"How'd you do that," the boy asked as Shawn lightly walked up the steps.

Shawna noticed the scrape on the girl's arm and opened the door and gestured them to enter, "I told him to go home. He's going home."

"I didn't understand what you said," he said.

Shawna pointed at the couch, "Sit here. I told him in dutch."

Both sat down nervously as Shawna left the room.

The girl asked her brother in a whisper, "How did she know the dog knew what she was saying in Dutch?"

He shrugged in response as Shawna returned with a large red bag. She unzipped it to reveal a very complete medical kit.
Impressed the boy asked, "are you a doctor?"

"No. I believe that its always a good idea to be ready in case something happens," Shawna replied.

"How'd the dog know what you said," the girl asked then gasped at the sting of peroxide.

Shawna gave her a coy look, "would you believe me if I said magic?"

The girl giggled, "maybe."

"I'd be lying to you sweetie. No magic to it. All canine trained dogs respond to commands in either Dutch, French, German or Russian. I used German first then Dutch," Shawna explained with a smile then dabbed some ointment on the scrape and carefully applied a bandage.

"Hmmmmm," Shawna inhaled then commented, "such nice perfume. Might be just a little grown up for you though. And pretty eyes too, they remind me of a friend."

The girl saw a collection of photos on a nearby shelf. The little girl walked over and looked.

"My name is Shawna," she introduced herself.

"I'm Nicky," the girl answered then gasped, "OH! That's Lyssa!"

"So it is," Shawna remarked.

"Nicky has a thing for ballerinas. I'm Daniel; Danny," Danny said.

Danny grew nervous. He had just seen the large pistol tucked into the back of the woman's belt. He knew people carried guns a lot but they didn't carry them like that.

"Uh. We should go," Danny took Nicky's hand and started to hurry her out, "thanks for helping with the dog. Bye."

Shawna chuckled to herself then stopped. She was going to make sure the kids went down the street fine but the beeping from her phone caught her attention.

 

GM. contact Hangar immediately.
 

Shawna went to her laptop and opened the conference window. Kimberly appeared in the other window.

"Afternoon Shawna," Kimberly greeted her.

"Hey Kim. What's up," Shawna asked.

Kimberly frowned, "We have a multi-pronged situation that's evolving. You're being upgraded to Stand-by. Right now we're waiting on more intel. Sorry to interrupt you settling in. By the way; have you made contact with a Jacobsen, Blake?"

Shawna nodded, "local police chief. I guess people are starting to figure out somebody's in this house now. He's harmless."

"If you say so. He's a former Marine. I'll send his dossier. I'll know something by tonight or tomorrow morning," Kimberly said.

"Hurry up and wait. Ok Kim," Shawna laughed.

Kimberly was laughing too as the window dropped.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Robbie Brice moved fast, feigned left then kicked right and maneuvered around to kick the ball again into the small net.

"GOAL," Robbie yelled as he jogged past the net with his arms up.

Dean shook his head, "pretty slick. Moves like that and you guys'll win for sure saturday Robbie."

Robbie had pulled the ball from the net and was kicking it towards him again then suddenly stepped half over and used his back foot to pull the ball off the ground and flip it high. He had spun then threw one leg up and brought the other over and kicked the ball past Dean into the net again.

"YEAH," Robbie yelled out.

"Whoa! When did you learn about bicycle shots," Dean asked.

"There was an old movie on last week. I saw it on that so I've been practicing it. Pretty good huh," Robbie laughed.

"Robbie! Its dinner time," A woman called from the front door.

"Hey Mrs. B," Dean called back.

Evelyn Brice smiled and waved, "hi Dean. Robbie needs to come in and eat."

"Ok Mom," Robbie replied, "later Dean-O."

"Later Rob-O," Dean laughed.

Robbie ran inside and Dean jogged across the street. Robbie washed up and sat down to his favorite. Chicken nuggets and tots. To the ten year old life was pretty good. In two months he'd turn eleven but the main focus was saturday's match. Practicing with the neighbor helped a lot.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Hammad had watched the two boys playing soccer on the front lawn. Grudgingly he admitted to himself the boy did have skill at the game. Not that it mattered. The boy was simply a means to an end. A pawn. The sun was now setting so he went to the back of the van and knelt east then began his prayers. Afterward he started the engine and calmly drove off. It was difficult watching from a distance, using a video camera hooked to a laptop, but to move in closer would alert to his presence.

The leader walked into the apartment they were using for planning and added to his notes. He then updated the New York group. The Congressman was not due home until midday saturday. The boy's match was early in the morning. By the time the father arrived, he would be theirs. Five cellphones would be used. The GPS was disabled on the phones. He tested the system. Using Skype he called one phone. The call was then forwarded to each phone consecutively then to a final phone which rang. He shut off the call then programmed the last phone with the necessary number. Tomorrow the phones would be hidden about city buses. He knew that even without the GPS enabled they would still be able to find the phones using the towers. Multiple phones making random movements would counter that for a while. During the day the phones would be hidden.

 

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---

 

Chapter 2

The day had started as usual for Shawna. She awoke at five and ran ten miles down the beach, swam back with the current then rode her bike fifteen miles. After a shower she put on her make-up and dressed in a simple black flare skirt, green silk blouse. A belt at her waist held the pistol behind her back and a mock garter held the Fairbarne-Applegate knife high on her thigh concealed by the skirt. She draped a jacket that coordinated with the skirt over a chair and wore plain pumps. The coffee had just finished brewing when a knock was heard at the front door.

"Good morning Chief. I see you remembered your manners this morning. Come in," Shawna said then stepped back opening the door wider.

Blake removed his Uniform ball cap and walked in and waited for her to close the door, "thank you Miss Daniels. Or is it Agent Daniels?"

Shawna smiled over her shoulder as she led him inside, "Shawna will do Chief Jacobsen."

"Blake, please," Blake said the sat down on the sofa he gestured to.

"Just a moment. Blake," Shawna said then went into another room.

'Wow. They sure do make government types nice these days,' Blake thought to himself.

He'd only interacted with NCIS agents and the occasional ATF or FBI agent during his time in the Corps. None of those had ever looked like she did. Then again he knew she was dangerous and was reminded of it when he noticed the pistol nestled at the small of her back. He wasn't sure how and where but surely that couldn't be the only weapon she carried. He was surprised when she came back with a tray for coffee.

"How do you take it Blake," Shawna asked as she poured a cup.

"As is. Thank you," Blake took the cup and sipped, "Wow! Good coffee."

Shawna finished making her own and sipped, "sorry there's no donuts go with that."

Blake laughed, "I don't care for 'em that much. Besides, who needs one when the coffee is this. Pretty."

He had glanced up and caught sight of her eyes and lost his track. He then blushed realizing he'd spoke that last part aloud.

"Well that's a first. I've never been told my coffee was pretty. I'll just say thank you," Shawna smiled.

"Yesterday. I messed up. I intruded into your home. I'd like to apologize and explain," Blake said.

"The house has stood empty for years. Its easy to understand your action and also overlook it," Shawna said gently then turned icy, "the woman on the other hand; not so much."

"Priscilla Herrington. The Mayor apologizes for her attitude. He even has an open appointment anytime if you like it formal," Blake said quickly.

Shawna seemed to consider it then shook her head, "tell him it won't be necessary at this time. Only if its a one-off."

Blake nodded, "he'll be relieved to hear that. She won't be a bother to you. I, myself, would prefer not to get shot over it."

"Think you would be," Shawna chuckled then refilled his cup.

Blake sighed, "let's not pretend. Technically you could shoot me inside the department, make my own officers clean up the mess and not even have to fill out paperwork."

Shawna smirked, "not technically Blake."

"Ok so I checked you out. Not technically. Real deal, you could," Blake admitted.

"Now now BlackJack. I wouldn't dare do that after your daughter gave daddy a big hug and a kiss for luck before going out into the big scary world," Shawna said coyly.

"How did you know she did that," Blake asked.

Shawna laughed, "I can smell Nicky's perfume on you and a print of her pink lipgloss on your cheek. She was wearing the same yesterday."

Blake blinked, "you met her yesterday?"

Shawna nodded, "hard to miss to screaming children tearing through the yard with a Rottweiler on their heels. Good thing I know Dutch."

"Rottweiler trained in Dutch," Blake asked then grew angry, "please excuse."

He set his cup on the tray and rushed out. Shawna made it to the door as he leapt over the fence and got into the patrol SUV then tore away from the curb in a screech of tires.

"I guess he has something against Dutch trained Rottweilers. Maybe he'll come back and give me the story," Shawna mused and went back in.

Her phone beeped.

"Great. Stand-by for deployment," Shawna said.

She grabbed her two bags and set them by the door then called the airfield and had her LearJet prepped and fueled. It would only take an hour and a half to get to the private field.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Dannigan asked, "you're sure about this Kimberly."

Kimberly shook her head, "Brice is targeted. That's the only thing for sure. Whatever they got planned is going down saturday. I checked the Congressman's schedule and he's due in Kansas Saturday around noon. They could try an attack in the terminal, on the road to his house or at his house. He's not slated for any appearances Saturday. Just a visit home before returning monday for hearings. Since he was clean in all that LOG business he's on the panel for the hearings. From what I've heard it was a surprise he wan't involved."

"Not really. Brice doesn't play well with others. If he can't take credit for the whole thing and hold all the cards then he won't have anything to do with it. Some people think that LOG may be cute and fuzzy compared to him. He's so far right-winged that Sarah Palin looks like a drug-slut compared to him," Dannigan said.

"Tell me he doesn't know about us," Krystel muttered angrily.

Dannigan shook his head, "no Evanson; he doesn't. Actually he doesn't like intelligence agencies at all. He's bumped heads with the Company several times and said once that the NSA should be shut down. Quote 'The goings-on of other nations is none of our business. If they can't stop their own downward spiral its none of our concern. Should their mess spill over to us then we should retaliate with full nuclear capabilities' end quote."

"Wow. That's extreme," Kimberly remarked.

"That's not even the half of it. He wants to cut all ties to other nations. Send their diplomats out and bring ours back. Pull every Service out of foreign countries and close the bases. He doesn't support a border wall, he wants military patrols and landmines. Not to deport illegals but execute them on sight. Shut down the space program, cut Alaska, Hawaii, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands loose. That's for openers. Set back civil rights fifty years or so, too," Dannigan informed them.

"That's fanatical," Krystel said.

Dannigan nodded, "he won't even accept campaign contributions from anyone but verified American entities. A Catholic Diocese tried to contribute to him a few years ago. He threw the priest out, literally. He stated that he refuse to take money from foreign powers, which of course the Vatican is. He proposed penalties to American companies that outsource to third world countries and increasing the import duties on foreign goods by fifty percent. School shooting? He proposes arming the teachers with fully automatic rifles."

"He's not Fanatical, Krystel. The man's psychotic," Kimberly corrected.

"Worse. He's popular too. There's a lot of people that think he makes sense. So far he hasn't done anything to warrant action, but should anything happen to him personally he could use it in the upcoming election. He's got a lot of support from the anti-gay, anti-war, pro-life, pro-gun crowds. The Mormons won't go anywhere near him. He denounced them because they haven't put an end to the polygamous factions still in operation in Utah and Arizona," Dannigan finished.

"So the best thing is to figure out what they have planned and not even let him get wind of it? What he doesn't know; he can't exploit," Krystel asked.

Dannigan nodded, "yes."

Kimberly nodded, "we haven't stopped. We're all over this. Everybody is on Black Bayonet; one hour recall right now. Pete is on his way up there right now but he has his gear with him."

"Upgrade that to ten minute recall. The second you find something scramble everybody," Dannigan instructed them then closed out the conference.

"Krystel. Send Shawna a message. Tell her to go ahead and deploy to Kansas and secure ground transport for the others when she gets there," Kimberly said.

"Aye Aye Ma'am," Krystel said then sent the message.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Shawna had gotten the message to deploy and was loading her two bags into the trunk of the Camaro when Blake returned.

"Sorry Chiefie. Gotta go," Shawna said locking the front door and walking back to the car.

"Small town. I could tag along," Blake said then noticed the bags in the trunk, "oh. That kinda 'go'."

Shawna closed the trunk then settled into the driver's seat, "maybe when I get back we can pick up that conversation."

Blake nodded, "right. See ya."

Shawna smiled as she drove away. He really wasn't bad on the eyes at all. He had a good reputation too. Even publicly defended a gay MP that was being hassled. Or so the report said he was gay. Actually the man was straight, he had a transgender girlfriend. That was included in the report. Blake Jacobsen went by the book unless it was obvious someone exploited the book to slam somebody. Pretty good guy in her opinion. Two hours later Shawna was flying west. Before take off she received the message that everyone else would scramble at first light.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 3

Robbie walked to the soccer field first thing that morning. He met up with Chris a block from his house. Together they walked to the field. Once there they began to warm up. Stretches then jogging up and down the sidelines. Finally they passed a ball back and forth while the rest of the team arrived. Thirty minutes later the match started. Robbie ran as fast as he could. The other team tried putting two players to cover him. Robbie countered by constantly passing the ball to Chris. When they switched to covering Chris he passed it to Robbie. Robbie was quick and agile. He outmaneuvered the opposing players relentlessly.

In frustration the boy covering Robbie decided that instead of trying to block or intercept, he blatantly kicked Robbie's feet out from under him before the ball even got close. Fortunately the referee saw it and red flagged the player. The coach argued but the player was sent off for the rest of the game. Robbie and Chris both enjoyed being Forwards. The only downside was the third forward, Zane. Zane also played football as quarterback. His father allowed him to play soccer because it kept him in good condition during the off season and didn't put strain on his throwing arm. However, Zane was convinced that everyone on the team was simply there to give him the ball and only he was allowed to score goals. A viewpoint encouraged by his father. That caused quick turnovers. Rival teams knew of his ego and would make the most of it. Since he refused to pass the ball they constantly took it from him. As he was bigger than everyone except the goalie he usually tried to bully them all. Especially Robbie since he was the second smallest on the team, and better than he was.

During the break a big argument broke out among the team.

"Why do you keep letting them score off us," Zane yelled.

Drew the goalie grabbed him by the shirt, "they keep taking the ball from you stupid. You want to pretend you're the only one playing, go back to football!"

"I'm the best player on the team," Zane yelled back, "you all just give me the ball and I make the goals!"

"Take charge Zane," his father said loudly.

"CAN IT! ALL OF YOU," the Coach yelled walking over.

"Zane I'll say it one more time. You are NOT the best player! Of the twenty turnovers against us; thirteen were on you! Robbie and Chris have scored a goal each and you don't get anywhere near it. This is a soccer team, not the Zane Trichell all-star hour! Get your head on straight or go home," The Coach said to him then addressed the rest of the team, "we're down one goal. Midfielders; keep up the pressure and make them go on the defensive. Drew stay center right, that one forward has a mean leftie. Strikers work together to get the ball past their defense. Signal, signal, signal. They're used to players yelling cues that they aren't watching your hands. Strategy is going to win this game and ours is good. Now go back out there and run them into the ground," The Coach said loudly in encouragement.

"Zane! You get that ball and keep it til you score. Make every goal boy," Zane's father yelled out.

"STUFF THAT! TEAMWORK," the Coach yelled then turned to Zane's father, "If he doesn't start working with the other players he's off. Last chance; learn to work with the team or go play tennis. And don't you ever counter my instructions. I'm the Coach!"

Play had resumed and it was even more grueling than the first half.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Hammad and four others sat in the beat up brown van and watched. Hammad and one man were able to watch through the windshield. The other three were watching using the camera and laptop. Those three ended up becoming very enthusiastic. As if they were watching a match on television. They even made wagers during the break. Hammad ignored them. It was diffusing the tension. Again he had to admit to himself the boy was good. Quite easily the star of the team. Too bad for them all. Carefully he kept watch for the parents or any possible watchers for him.

The second half was even more pitched than the first and the men knew it. It became no different that sitting somewhere else and watching a match on television. Hammad couldn't spot any obvious parents or minders for the boy. If none appeared then the plan would be successful. Patiently he sat watching.

 

~o~O~o~
 

The time was getting close. They only had one minute left of play. Once again Zane was trying to be a ball-hog and had lost it to an opposing midfielder who then lost it to Chris. Robbie signaled and raced for the goal. Chris saw an opening and kicked the ball through it. The ball bounced right into Robbie's line and he was able to tap it to stay on the ground and just as he drew even with the straight line of the goal he stepped over the ball and popped it up from behind him. As the ball went up Robbie twisted and swung his left leg up, lifting him off the ground and he kicked with his right; sending the ball right past the Goalie who had expected the ball to come from the other side as Robbie was a rightie. The team yelled out in triumph when the ball flew into the net.

Robbie yelled out and ran holding his arms up in victory. The referee blew his whistle. Game over and Robbie's team had won by one goal.

Chris almost dove to tackle Robbie, "MAN THAT WAS SO COOL!"

Other members of the team echoed the statement. They'd never really seen such a shot done. For them the coolest thing they had seen, was a guy do a hand-spring with the ball to send it in from outside.

Suddenly Robbie was shoved from behind.

"That was my goal! You were supposed to send the ball to me to score. That fancy move almost cost us the game! Flipping and turning around like a cheerleader? What's next? Wearing a skirt for the game," Zane demanded.

"You couldn't get near that goal! You almost lost us the game trying to be a ball-hog. They stole it from you. Lucky for us Chris was right there to steal it back. I had position and you didn't," Robbie said, "you didn't have position because you won't work with the team!"

Zane punched him, "I'm the star! I don't have to. You all get ME the ball and I score the goals! The rest of you pansies are just to fill the field!"

The goalie had run up and grabbed Zane into a full nelson before he could kick Robbie while he was on the ground.

"THAT'S ENOUGH ZANE," Drew yelled.

The Coach had seen it all and walked over, "Zane you're outta here!"

"You can't do that," Zane's father stated.

"Oh yes I can! You and your spoiled brat can go play tennis or something. Drew turn him loose. Chris help Robbie up," The coach ordered.

The parents of other players had rallied around the team to send Zane and his belligerent father off. Eventually everyone began to move off. Chris' parents had come to see the last half of the game. Robbie grabbed his sport bag and ball then began to walk home. His dad didn't care for Robbie playing soccer and not football, but at least winning wasn't something he complained about. Robbie crossed the field working the ball back and forth to himself. At the sidewalk he scooped up the ball with his foot, bounced it up with his knee then head and caught it. He crossed the street and walked a block down the sidewalk when a brown van turned onto a side street ahead of him. A man got out and started looking at the sign post and scratching his head then looking up and down the avenue.

"Are you lost," Robbie asked.

The man looked up at the sign again and sighed, "I must be. Ironwood lane?"

Robbie had made it to the side street and pointed down it, "its two blocks that way. See where that blue truck is?"

Robbie didn't get to finish asking. A hand with a rag was clamped over his mouth and nose. His bag and ball dropped as he was picked up and carried into the van. The rag smelled funny and he started feeling light headed and everything was looking fuzzy then went black. No cars had passed. He'd been alone.

 

~o~O~o~
 

LoneStar set the GulfStream down. It was just past noon. The small hobby field on the outskirts of Kansas City was less busy than the main airport. He steered over to two LearJets by two black SUVs. Pete was standing by one of the SUVs talking to Shawna. LoneStar swung wide and turned to park the jet in line with the others. Carl dropped the stairs and bailed out as a ground-man set chocks for the wheels. He called for a fuel truck to come over and begin refueling as everyone else de-planed.

Out of earshot of the ground-man and fuelers Shawna updated the group.

"Everybody screwed the pooch on this one. Sorry. Everybody, including me, thought they were gunning for the Congressman. They grabbed the kid an hour and a half ago. They've already contacted the house twice. Krystel was already monitoring their incoming calls. The first call traced five times back to a skype account. The second call got her past the skype and she grabbed the IP," Shawna informed them.

"FUCK," everyone exclaimed at the same time.

Lyssa asked, "are the Tangos hiding in plain sight or do they have a secure site?"

"They're hiding in an old tenement building right on the edge of a commercial area. All I have right now are satellite views. and blueprints. Krystel ran a check and only one person has utilities there for two apartments. both on the same floor," Shawna answered.

"There's only us five plus Warlock. How many Tangos on the Hard-Site," Rodrick asked.

Tiffany answered, "heat signatures currently suggest nine."

"Suggest," Lyssa asked.

Shawna nodded, "there's nine heat signatures. Assume one is the boy. Incoming message traffic indicate one off-site."

"Move now. Let's get eyes on then make the assault plan," Rodrick said.

"When's the Congressman due," Lyssa asked.

"His flight was delayed due to mechanical. He should be here in the next two hours," Tiffany said.

"Tiffany, Pete and Rodrick. Shawna and I with Warlock. Shawna on point. Let's go," Lyssa ordered.

They loaded up and rolled out. LoneStar and Madison stayed with the planes. Tiffany had met up with Pete and Madison in Memphis and rode in with him. She'd ride back with them to Memphis. Twenty minutes later they parked close enough to be able to set up a camera to watch the building. They set up their comm unit on the roof of one of the SUVs. It would relay between them, Dannigan and the Hangar. Pete set up a hyperbolic Microphone and began using it to detect sounds in the rooms. Tiffany was using a thermal scope on a sniper rifle to scan exact body placements. They were in position for thirty minutes.

"Floors one through four are silent," Pete called out over their comms.

Tiffany called out, "no heat signatures one through four. I have seven signatures on five and one on six. Wait. Two on six. One was on the roof."

"Out going comm traffic," Krystel announced, "the residence is calling a mobile. They're calling the Congressman."

"Damn his plane must've made up the time," Shawna commented.

The audio from the calls were patched through their comms. They didn't like the dialogue

"We're monitoring his phone too. He just disconnected. SHIT! He's calling the FBI," Kimberly stated.

"THAT FUCKING IDIOT," Rodrick said.

They listened to the angry dialogue. Unfortunately there was a Field Office in Kansas. A team would be waiting when the door of the plane opened for him.

Warlock was getting antsy. His commander was angry. The other two-leggeds were highly agitated too. He wanted action then go back to the little ones. At home patrol and guard the little noisy ones. Away from home was action. Find the things soldiers hate, take down the ones they don't like. He kept looking from Lyssa to the street and back. She was the one who would give him orders. Suddenly everyone came together and began talking. Warlock watched eagerly wagging his tail. Soon she would give him orders. Find or fight.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Hammad answered the cellphone, " Yes."

" He has called people. People in suits driving black SUVs. They are bringing in equipment," the voice said.

Hammad chuckled, "He has called government agents to find and capture us and save the boy. I warned him what would happen. Return to here.

He disconnected the call then went to the computer and put on the headphones with microphone. Hammad used skype and called the first phone. It forwarded through the other phones then dialed the Congressman's residence. It was answered on the third ring. He knew they would begin tracing the call.

"Brice," the congressman stated.

"We did warn you not to call in your police. You called in your agents instead of meeting our demands. For this we will take from your son the future of a man," Hammad said then disconnected.

He then took off the headphones, "come with me."

He picked up a knife along with a bucket with paper and wood in it. They went inside the room.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Robbie heard the men talking then the door opened.

"What's going on? Why did you kidnap me," Robbie asked.

A bucket was set over by the window and stuff inside were lit on fire. Two men held his arms and pulled him to sit on the floor. Two others pulled his legs apart. One man crouched down with a knife in his hand. Robbie struggled as the man cut off his shorts then the athletic supporter.

"STOP! GET OFF ME! LEMME GO! LEMME GO," Robbie yelled struggling.

The man with the knife punched him in the face and Robbie saw lights explode everywhere and went slack. In a daze the man grabbed his parts and held them roughly. It hurt, making Robbie suck in air between his teeth. The man then reached forward with the knife and drew a line up the bottom side of his sac and shaft. It felt like a line of fire. Robbie screamed in pain. The scream pitched up higher as the man started pulling the inside out and cutting it away.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Everyone had taken new positions. They all heard the conversation.

"The future of a man? What the fuck does that exactly mean," Shawna asked.

Pete snarled, "they're about to emasculate that kid."

A wild scream could be heard from inside the building.

"GO GO GO," Lyssa commanded then ran across to the front door and kicked it open.

"WARLOCK! SUCHEN," Lyssa ordered.

The Belgian shepherd bolted to the front. Find the ones to take down. He lead them up stairs. There was a noise he'd never heard before. Its sounded like it came from where the smells were stronger.

Lyssa led the team forward, the screams were now almost animalistic. She followed the tactical dog up to the fifth floor and down the hall. A door stood open that the screams seemed to be coming from. Warlock charged in.

"VERNICHTEN," Lyssa commanded as she rounded the doorway and opened fire with the CAR-15.

Warlock obeyed and leapt on the closest target, bringing him down then savaging his neck.

Yells erupted from everywhere, but it was too late. Shawna came in right behind Lyssa and began firing. Pete was next then Tiffany and Rodrick. They tore apart the three men in the room and advanced to the adjoining room. Four men were struggling to let go of the screaming boy while another stood in front of burning bucket at the window.

"ALIVE," Lyssa ordered.

They targeted from left to right with gut shots and brought them down. The last one charged with the knife. Warlock jumped and grabbed his arm, clamping down hard. The man roared in anger and pain trying now to beat the dog. The fight was done a second later as Lyssa and Rodrick smashed the butts of their assault rifled to his head.

"WARLOCK! HALTEN! LOS! LOS," Lyssa commanded for him to stop and let go..

The Belgian released the enemy's arm and edged back but ready to attack again as he growled menacingly.

"Oh my fucking God," Tiffany said.

The boy had finally run out of breath still staring down at himself.

"We have medics nearby. Do you need them," Kimberly asked.

Rodrick replied, "affirmative. Med-Evac one."

"Copy. quarter mile now inbound," Kimberly stated then asked, "status?"

Lyssa ordered Tiffany and Shawna, "Evac the boy. Command, three down, four wounded critical and one light injury. Securing now."

Tiffany and Shawna gingerly picked the boy up on each side and began to carry him out then down the stairs. When they arrived at the front door an ambulance crew had pulled up and were opening the back doors.

"WHOA! WHAT THE FUCK," a man said then saw the boy's injuries and ran around to the other side and vomited.

The woman gasped, "oh my God!"

She climbed in as the two black-clad women with facial paint lifted him inside to the gurney.

Lyssa's voice came over the comms, "Sierra Delta. Golf Mike. Be advised; anatomy is non-recoverable. The fire in the bucket was too hot. Repeat: anatomy is NON-recoverable."

Shawna whispered to the woman paramedic, "inform the emergency team that the anatomy was burned to destruction. Non-recoverable. We were too late."

Shawna then climbed out.

Tiffany grabbed the man and snarled, "we weren't here. You didn't see us. You picked the kid up on the sidewalk. Say anything else and you'll see us again."

She had dragged him by the arm to the driver's side and pushed him into the cab.

Shawna was closing the doors, "same goes for you. Now get him to the hospital now!"

The back door was slammed shut and she banged on it twice. The ambulance started up and drove off. Then the sirens and lights went on. Lyssa and the other were coming out the door when they heard tires screech. A car had stopped in the middle of the side street. The driver took out a pistol and aimed toward them.

"CONTACT NINE O' CLOCK. FIRE," Rodrick ordered.

Everyone took aim and let loose until the magazines ran dry. The inside of the car looked like a blender had gone off. Quickly they extracted. They returned to the airport and unloaded most of the gear. Shawna would stay on site until clear. She had changed back into a skirt suit and re-applied her make-up. Every one of the women had concealed their hair with bandannas. She drove off to the hospital to see what was going on. Pete and Madison were taking their time. They'd eat before leaving. Tiffany jumped in with Rodrick, Lyssa and LoneStar. They'd drop her off in Memphis.

 

---

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Chapter 4

An FBI agent answered the door to police offer.

"Uh. I'm here to pick up Congressman Brice and his wife," Officer Valdez stated.

"What," A woman asked.

"Mrs. Brice," he asked.

"We got a situation here officer. You need to go," the Agent said.

"Sorry Agent but I'm here to take the Congressman and his wife to Mercy Hospital. Their son is en route now," Ramon Valdez stated.

"Robbie's on his way to the hospital? How did you find him," Clair Brice asked.

"We didn't. An ambulance picked him up on a sidewalk. I got the call through dispatch," the cop told them.

Congressman Brice shouldered his way past the Agent, "let's go!"

He barreled out to the squad car and got in the front seat. Valdez opened the backdoor for Mrs. Brice then closed it after she was in. He then got into the driver's seat.

"COME ON WE'RE WASTING TIME," Robert Brice demanded.

"Its an important trip so I thought we'd bring mrs. Brice along too. Now buckle your seat belt asshole or I'll write you a fucking ticket," Valdez growled.

Brice shouted, "I'M A CONGRESSMAN!"

"I didn't vote for you. Now buckle up before I taze you," Valdez said as he pulled away.

Brice put on the seat belt. Minutes later they pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance. He bolted from the car and ran to the door.

"WHERE'S MY SON," he bellowed.

"Sir calm down. If you'll tell me," a woman in scrubs began to ask.

Brice shoved her out of the way, "IDIOT! MOVE!"

A security guard grabbed his arm, "hold there mister!"

Brice swung his fist at him but it was caught by Officer Valdez.

"If you don't get a fucking grip I'm gonna light you up," Valdez ordered.

"Excuse me. Our son was brought in. Robbie Brice. Where is he please," Clair asked.

"Ma'am," a man in blue scrubs called out, "this way please. I'm Doctor Micheal Collins, Trauma and Urology."

Clair and Robert followed him toward a set of doors. When they opened they could hear high pitched screaming. A nurse leaned out of a curtained area.

"He's back with us," the nurse said.

"What happened to our son," Robert demanded.

"Its very bad. I'll be honest; I haven't seen anything like this since I was with Doctors Without Borders," Micheal stated.

He led the directly to the curtained area the screaming was coming from. It was dropping down now.

Robbie looked up and saw his parents with horror-struck expressions.

"I'm afraid he's been completely emasculated," Micheal said softly.

"Momma. Daddy. Help. Hurts. They took. They took," Robbie croaked out.

He had screamed so much his voice was barely a whisper.

Clair went over and hugged Robbie, " shhh Baby. We're here."

"There's no way to salvage. He has two options. We can remove the last remnants or we can re-assign," Micheal stated.

Robert looked at him, "what do you mean by 're-assign'?"

"There is enough viable tissue left to reconstruct into a vagina. With the proper hormonal regime female puberty can be induced. I've consulted with a specialist. She was in town giving a lecture. She's on her way. Doctor Bronson is the leading surgeon for reconstruction. She should be here any moment," Dr. Collins informed them.

"That moment is now Doctor Collins. Oh my," a woman stated walking up.

"What are you talking about? You mean some kind of sex change? My son isn't a freak," Robert Brice said loudly.

"Nobody said he was," Doctor Bronson said looking closely at the boy's mutilated groin.

She stood up an shook her head, "there's not a lot to work with. This was intentional. Doctor Collins is correct though. There is enough to perform a vaginaplasty. In time a normal relationship can be enjoyed. Luckily there is some of the nerve cluster left. We don't have much time though."

"NOW LOOK HERE LADY! YOU'RE NOT TURNING MY SON INTO SOME KIND OF QUEER FREAK," Robert shouted.

"A eunuch with mental dysfunction would be a cruelty," Dr. Bronson stated.

Clair asked, "you said a normal relationship? As a woman?"

Dr. Bronson nodded, "yes. Normal except for no menstrual cycles or pregnancy. Otherwise yes."

"I'LL BE RUINED POLITICALLY. I FORBID IT," Robert shouted.

"If we don't do something in the next ten minutes he'll be dead," Dr. Collins reminded them all.

Clair walked over to the doctors, "I'll sign the release or waiver. Save my baby."

Robert abruptly back-handed her. Clair went straight to the floor.

"DON'T YOU UNDERMINE ME! I SAID I FORBID IT," Robert screamed at her.

Everyone froze. A woman walked up and pressed a gun to back of his head.

"Freeze," a calm voice said.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM? I'LL HAVE YOU IN PRISON," Robert screamed.

"You're an idiot that just pissed me off when I'm having a bad day to begin with. You Bureau jack asses better put away those sidearms," Shawna said flatly.

"Lady who do you think you are," The Agent in charge said angrily.

Shawna flashed her credentials, "Susan Caldwell. National Security Agency. Counter-Terror Operations, Domestic. Every single swingin' richard's NIGHTMARE and I'm taking charge of your by-the-numbers clusterfuck!"

The Agents put away their guns. None of them wanted to get any further on the wrong side of such an Agent.

"I'll have your JOB! I'LL SHUT DOWN THE AGENCY! I'LL HAVE YOU THROWN IN PRISON," Robert Brice now screamed.

"You're in deep enough shit as it is, dickhead. You bypassed all procedures and protocols and that kid paid for your arrogance.. Doctors. Save that kid. Ma'am. If you can stand go with them. Do what needs to be done," Shawna ordered.

"Let's go. Prep the patient and get him to O.R. STAT," Doctor Bronson instructed.

"HOW DARE YOU," Robert shouted.

Shawna triggered of a shot right beside his head into the wall. He wet himself and fainted.

"Get that idiot out of here," Shawna ordered the FBI agents.

They promptly picked him up and carried him out. Shawna then followed to the surgical waiting room. She took out her phone and called the Hangar.

"Go," Kimberly answered.

"Maintain the tap on Brice's hard-lines and cellphones. I have a feeling this is gonna go sideways. Have Pete and Madison left," Shawna asked.

"No they're still at the airfield. What do you need," Kimberly asked.

Shawna talked fast, "we may have to extract the mother and kid. Brice is going ape-shit because they're doing an emergency re-assignment. Have Madison pose as Social Services or something. She needs paperwork for an emergency divorce and possible transfer of custody for the kid to the Agency. Tell Pete to play Marshal or something. I'm playing NSA."

"We're all over it. We got other problems. The incident made the national news. The Texas group is on the move. We think they're heading for Florida or Mexico," Kimberly said then disconnected.

Shawna went over to Clair. Twenty minutes later she finished signing the last form. A nurse came and took the forms, made a copy and returned the originals.

"Am I doing the right thing Miss, uh, Agent? I'm sorry. I'm not sure how to address you," Clair said.

Shawna patted her hand, "Susan is fine. I believe you're doing the only thing you can right now. I made a call. Some things are out of my ability. The people that did this to your son weren't alone. We don't know where the rest are. The two of you may have to go into protective custody."

Clair buried her face in her hands, "What they've done isn't enough for those monsters? They still would come after my baby?"

Shawna nodded, "yes. They failed in their priority. That means they want revenge. Help is coming for you though."

The elevator chimed and a woman in a tan skirt and white blouse came out carrying a legal case.

"Hello. Are you Agent Caldwell," She asked.

"Yes. This is Clair Brice," Shawna said.

"Hello Clair. I'm sorry your having such a troubling time. My name is Madison. I work for the Department of Justice. I understand there is a very dangerous situation here," Madison said.

Shawna nodded, "there is where I leave you Clair. This is my card, just in case. Best of luck."

"I can take it from here Agent Caldwell," Madison said.

Shawna left them. Madison opened her case and brought out several pages. Carefully she explained them and Clair quickly signed. Madison handed her the final page.

"This one is the 'last resort' page. This transfers custody of Robbie into our care should anything happen to you. Firstly, I assure you Robbie would not be put into the system. Secondly; his protection would be at the forefront. He wouldn't have ordinary foster parents. He would be looked after by the finest agents. Protected," Madison explained.

Clair nodded, "its that bad then. Promise me Robert would never be able to find him either."

Madison nodded, "I promise."

Clair signed the form and handed it back.

Madison looked it over and tucked it into the case with the others, "that's it. As I understand you're in that great of danger. Once Robbie is stable we'll transfer to a more secure medical center. Right now can you get home and pack a few things for yourself? Whatever you can't live without for three days. When you and Robbie leave here, you don't come back, ever."

Clair nodded, "I understand. I'll be back in an hour and a half."

Madison nodded, "I'll be right here."

Clair left in a hurry. Madison sighed and checked in with Pete. Pete was waiting with the plane fueled and ready to take off whenever she arrived.

An hour later Doctor Bronson came out. Madison informed her and showed her the paperwork. She told Madison that Robbie was now in Recovery and as bad as the injury was, she was confident the results would be undetectable. Madison thanked her and asked that Robbie be prepared for travel as soon as possible. The doctor advised against it but would make the necessary preparations.

Madison had went to the ladies' room and was just about to sit back down in the waiting area when her phone rang.

She answered it, "Madison."

"GRAB THE KID AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE NOW," Shawna yelled.

Madison rushed to the window and looked down at the parking lot for enemies, "what happened? Clair isn't back yet!"

"CLAIR'S DEAD! BRICE CALLED A JUDGE AND DIRTY SHRINK. THEY DID AN OD ON HER TO MAKE HER COMMITTABLE. IT BACKFIRED AND SHE DIED. RIP THE BRACELET OFF ROBBIE AND LEAVE IT WITH THE DOC. GET THE TWO OF YOU OUT OF THERE NOW. I'LL COVER UP FOR YOU," Shawna ordered.

"WE'RE GONE," Madison said and disconnected.

She grabbed the case and rushed down the hallway until she found the Recovery room. Quickly she tried to get the bracelet off Robbie's wrist.

"What are you doing," Doctor Bronson demanded.

"Clair's just been killed! We have to get Robbie out of here now. Get this bracelet off. The Agent is coming back to cover up what's happening to Robbie. HURRY," Madison said.

Doctor Bronson had a gut feeling that the shit had hit the fan and now was the time to salvage whatever could be. She went with the feeling and quickly slit the bracelet off. She then went and brought in a travel gurney. Together they transferred Robbie to it and disconnected the monitors. The gurney had an IV pole so she hung it.

"We need a way out that's not watched and an ambulance," Madison stated.

Doctor Collins spoke up, "this way."

The three of them rolled the gurney down the hall to the service elevator and rode down to the first floor. They went through a side door and were out in the parking lot. There were four ambulances lined up. Dr. Collins opened the door of the first one. A young man was stocking supplies.

"What's up," The paramedic asked.

The gurney was shoved inside taking up the last of the space. Madison climbed in then turned to the Doctors.

"When the Agent comes back give her the bracelet. You know nothing else," Madison said.

The sheet had been pulled to cover Robbie's face. She pulled her gun out after the doors were closed.

"Listen close. I'm a Federal Agent. Drive. No radio, no sirens, running lights only. Take us to the hobby airfield," Madison said firmly.

The driver had turned around and been listening.

"Ma'am we'll take you anywhere you wanna go. If you can prove what you are then I got no problem," The driver said.

Madison pulled a Marshal ID and badge.

"Works for me," He said and started up the ambulance and drove away calmly, "this never happened, right?"

Madison nodded, "right."

Thirty minutes later a LearJet took off heading east. Another took off an hour later.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Blake yawned as he drove. It was early in the morning. He'd finish this circuit then go home and take a nap. He soon found himself pulling in at DarkHouse. The Camaro was parked under the portico. She was back. Blake got out and went to the side door. He was about to knock but could hear music on. It was loud. Gingerly he tried the knob. It turned easily.

"This is a bad idea," he said to himself but opened the door anyway.

The music was loud. He let himself in and looked around. Slowly he worked his way upstairs. Light filtered from under a door. He quietly tried the knob and opened it. Just as it opened he heard a scream. He almost slammed the door shut and bolted but hesitated. It wasn't a scream of shock or fear. It was a scream of horror. He edged the door open more. Inside he saw steam. She was in the shower. He could just barely see her reflection in the mirror.

Shawna was slumped in the shower now crying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Blake eased back, closed the door and went back downstairs. He knew that where ever she had been, things went wrong. They went wrong and she hadn't been alone.Now in a personal Hell because of it. He moved to the kitchen and saw the screen on her phone lit up.

a message read:

GM. Package secure. stand down. ID

Blake shook his head. He knew enough to know that was military or Intelligence chatter. He locked the door on his way out and climbed back into the patrol unit. He'd give her til the afternoon before trying to visit. Maybe he'd find a way to be the grand fool and make her smile somehow.
 
 
 
 
 

This story continues in LKM 41: Angels and Animosity

author's note- a special thank you goes out to Joanne Foxcourt. I read her story Audra and I wondered what would happen if the O.I.C.A. encounter something similar. Things definitely go differently. For better and worse. stay tuned. I'm far from done.

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 4: Iron Dolphin   Not all the problems in Florida were   resolved. CyberForce was targeted   not only by terrorists   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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Chapter 1
Dannigan wanted to groan. It appeared he needed to update his bar list and remove this one. He had to admit though, it had been a year since he visited this one. Over a third of the female patrons held a Cosmopolitan and he'd heard of ten different variations of Martinis so far. His problem was that the bartender took three tries to make a Rusty Nail. She still got it wrong. To him the only redeeming factor was the textbook. When she exchanged her tips she was slipping the larger bills into a copy of Modern Criminal Psychology. He hoped she was a better profiler than bartender.

"How's the service here," A voice asked.

Dannigan hid the smirk and looked at the speaker, "jury's out. Then again, this isn't Cartagena."

"Spain was great that time of year. I heard El Toro D'oro burned down. Some new place was built there. Teeny-boppers or some such," the man informed him.

Dannigan shrugged, "Isn't that crowd right up your alley these days Admiral?"

The Admiral signaled the bartender, "young lady would it be possible to get just a simple crown and seven?"

She nodded with a smile and brought the drink over and picked up the offered bill. He waved off the change.

The Admiral sipped his drink and sighed, "God gimme the old days back. Send in a platoon of SEALs or Recons to pilfer and plunder whatever the Hell is so important and blow up the rest. It's almost to the point we have to run incursion ops for three days so some embassy CIA dickhead can go for a morning jog."

Dannigan chuckled, "What's the matter Bryan, you mean YOU don't like being in charge of the military equivalent of Bill Gates' romper room in Tampa, filled with a bunch early to mid twenties bespectacled lads that obsess over cartoon girls with giant tits in school girl outfits? You have to get with the times down there."

"Save me from the future; its weirder than I ever thought it would be," Bryan groaned then finished the last of the drink.

Dannigan chuckled then noticed Bryan's expression change looking in the mirror behind the bar.

Bryan used his left hand to signal her again but started tapping the fingers of his right hand on the bar. Dannigan followed the tapping. It was Morse code.

"Hey beautiful. Could you swing a refill? Oh and give this guy here one too. He looks pitiful. Like his dog just shot his best friend," Bryan nodded to Dannigan.

The tapping spelled out: Need help bad. Don't know who to trust. CyberForce compromised.

"He was a good friend. I knew that dog was no good. He kept forgetting to flush after reading the paper," Dannigan said.

Dannigan tapped back: Who is tailing you?

"I bet a nice young thing like her would ease some grief," Bryan commented.

He tapped again: No clue and not important now. I made contact with you, ball in your court.

Dannigan shook his head, "I'd have to be a D.A. or better for a chance. Thanks for the drink."

The bartender came back and set down the two drinks.

Bryan laid two twenties on the bar and downed his drink, "Keep the change honey. Good luck with that dog of yours. I'd turn it loose if it were mine."

"Not bad advice. Might do that," Dannigan nodded, "thanks for the drink."

He watched in the mirror as Bryan left. Two men left thirty seconds later but nodded to another pair. He sat and finished the drink slowly.

"Would like that freshened up," the bartender asked.

Dannigan tossed a five on the bar, "no thanks. I've got to go deal with a couple of strays I wound up with."

The girl gave him a suspicious look, "people shouldn't discard their pets. If you don't want them you should take them to the shelter so they can be adopted."

Dannigan stood up, "my thoughts exactly. People should be more responsible with their pets. Good luck with the FBI exam Trudy. And never take work home with you."

Dannigan walked casually down the street. He checked reflections in the occasional window to ensure the two men were following him. He made a left and stepped up to two foot patrol officers.

"Excuse me. Which way to the Jefferson Memorial," Dannigan asked.

The cops nodded in a bored manner, "two blocks up take a left and you'll see it on the right."

"Ah. Thanks. I'm terrible at this. I thought I had gotten turned bass-ackwards again," Dannigan said and walked off happily.

Several minutes later he encounter the same two cops in the same spot again.

Dannigan shook his head, "I did it again."

The cop sighed, "two blocks up, take a LEFT and you'll SEE it on the right Sir."

Dannigan nodded, "thanks again. Sorry for the trouble."

One of the cops noticed two men that looked familiar. A few minutes later Dannigan ran into them again.

"OH NO. You said two blocks right and I'll see it on the left didn't you," Dannigan asked.

"No Mister I didn't. Have you been drinking? I thought smelled alcohol earlier," The first cop stated.

Dannigan shook his head, "I'm ok really. I just got turned around. All I have to do is get to the Jefferson memorial and then I can see the hotel."

"Two blocks up. Turn left and you'll see it on the right. Mister if I see you again I'll have to take you in for public intoxication," the first cop warned him.

Dannigan shook his head, "oh I wouldn't want that. I'll try to get it right this time Officer."

They watched Dannigan leave again. This time they both took notice of the two men following him and stopped them.

"I guess you're lost too. Figure you follow him because he's makin' good time," The second officer challenged.

One of the men glared, "step aside."

Both officers immediately gripped their sidearms and flipped the thumb guard over.

"Better show us some ID. SLOW," the first officer ordered.

"He turned the corner," the second guy said to the first.

The second man reached into the pocket of his windbreaker and flashed an a case, "D.O.D. now MOVE."

The first cop shook his head, "posse comitatus asshole. I was an MP. You're going downtown and the jerks with the higher pay-grades can sort this out."

The second officer called in a patrol car. He also mentioned over the radio that they were detaining to members of D.O.D. for following a civilian and neither were Army C.I.D. or N.C.I.S. Two hours later the two men walked out of a precinct, angry. They were angry for the cops for detaining them, angry with themselves for being stopped in the first place and even more so for not getting a picture of the man they were following to begin with.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Once Dannigan had went around the corner he ducked down an alley and ran. One block away he came out and went left until he saw a cab and flagged it down. A quick ride to the Georgetown mall and he went inside. After four department stores he went out through one and caught the bus. He got off close to a station and took a subway. He changed trains twice more and picked up a stash car then drove to the office.

Krystel answered the conference window, "burning the late oil Major?"

"You could say that Evanson. Where's Kimberly," Dannigan asked.

Krystel gave him a blank look, "she and LoneStar went home already. They're parents now, remember?"

Dannigan could be seen to lean back in his chair, "Actually that slipped my mind for the moment. How's that going?"

Krystel shrugged, "three people in one house and two of them keep waking everybody else up with screams during the night. Other than the insomnia its going fine. Mindy's started her schooling. She's a smart kid. The other two are kind of giving her 'girl lessons'. She's not thrilled with those but she's trying. She wandered into the studio and saw how vicious Lyssa is with Tiffany and that may have put her off ballet. She also stumbled onto a hand-to-hand eval. Lyssa against Tiffany AND Shawna."

"How bad did she work them over," Dannigan asked.

"I envy them. They only get evaluated when they come in. I get one every week and have my butt handed to me. Mindy saw. We think she might be a little afraid of Lyssa now," Krystel admitted.

Dannigan nodded, "not surprising about those results. Lyssa did invent the fighting style you're all trained in. Of the fourteen people that were originally taught it; only eight are still able to use it. The three of you brings that back up to eleven."

"Eleven? Only eleven people in the world know the fighting style? Wait. You said fourteen people were taught originally. Plus us. Why only those eight can still use it," Krystel asked.

"The rest are dead Evanson. KIA on Lyssa's final mission as a DemonWraith," Dannigan said flatly, "four in captivity with her and two more during the second retrieval a week later."

"OH SHIT," Krystel exclaimed.

Dannigan nodded, "yeah that's a topic better off not being brought up with her. She'll hit you for real. I remember the last time I did. I'd rather be shot."

Krystel shook her head, "I don't know fuck-all!"

"Uh-huh. Well back to current matters. Get with Kimberly in the morning and work up a packet. You're going to Tampa. There's a problem at CyberForce and you're deploying. Shawna is being tasked too but that's a smoke screen for you going in. She'll be on site for an hour or two to distract any watchers," Dannigan stated.

Krystel nodded as she wrote it down, "yes Sir. Anything else?"

Dannigan nodded, "yeah. I don't want you billeted in with other technicians. Find some kind of safe house away from all that."

"Rodrick said he has a friend in Tampa. Maybe he can help," Krystel proposed.

"Get on it Evanson. You've got two days to prep and deploy on day three," Dannigan said then closed the conference.

 

~o~O~o~
 

It was day two. The group had gathered in the war room. Kimberly ran the briefing. Shawna was attending via conference window as was Dannigan. All the major points had been outlined.

"So my role is strictly to go in and meet the C.O. Colonel Groves," Shawna verified.

Kimberly nodded, "correct. Use the new Senate defense credentials. Oh by the way. Lose the Caldwell NSA credentials. Those are too hot. You'll have new ones issued in two weeks under a different name."

"Brice," Shawna asked.

Kimberly shook her head, "FBI. They raised a big stink and the NSA filed that with a complaint filed by the C.I.A. and now that identity is compromised."

Everyone chuckled at that.

"Krystel is going in as Karen Ellington of the D.I.A. on loan to D.O.D. but her paperwork will only say D.O.D. Somebody serious will find that she's really D.I.A.," Kimberly said.

"I'll be listed as an Ice Queen for D.O.D. If they manage to get through that they'll see that I'm really a Sorceress for D.I.A.," Krystel explained.

Everyone was up on their terminology. Ice Kings and Queens were defensive specialists. They built data fortresses and defended them. Sorcerers and Sorceress was an offensive specialist. They penetrated systems. They didn't just sneak in and steal, they battered the system down and ravaged it completely before killing it all together. Krystel's real classification was Deity, meaning she could do both at the same time. Alone. She was the type that would lose themselves into cyberspace. Not for hours, but days. If not watched carefully her kind would actually work themselves to death from dehydration and malnutrition. The burn-out rate was high; seven out of ten would work themselves to death or insanity.

Actually Deity was her previous classification, when she was in the Navy. Now there was no classification for her. No other technicians could do what she was now capable of. If necessary she could physically penetrate a site and access a system. Others would have to wait for a team to go in and establish a link for the specialist to work through. This was in the event of Stand-Alone systems. Krystel's counter-insurgency, counter-terror training now gave her the skills to go there herself. In fact, she may very well be the only of her kind. That prospect had not been lost on any of them.

Rodrick spoke up, "Krystel will be staying with somebody I know. He's an old hand from the teams. He was on Team Two back in Nam. He spent time as a Black Hat when the training went to Coronado. He retired from Team Four in the late nineties to Tampa. He was my Sea-Daddy back in the day. I trust him. It goes way back."

"Name," Dannigan asked.

"Malone. Sylvester Malone. Known in the Teams as Bugsy. Retired Master Chief. Started out in UDT. When I got tapped to go after Kagan he advised me to pass. Let them send somebody else. When I woke up in the hospital he was there. I said I was resigning and he said I was being generous. He would've shot the one who came up with the idea of sending me," Rodrick said.

"Reading his file now. Yeah. I'm ok with him. He still has the standard SEAL clearance. Ok people. Do what you do best," Dannigan said then closed out.

Shawna nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow Krystel. I already arranged a car for you. Pick it up in the lot of the private terminal. The keys are in the ladies room taped under the vanity, far side."

"Thanks Shawna. We're out," Kimberly said then closed the conference.

Everyone broke for final prep.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 2

Mindy sat on the edge of the bed. She had rushed over as soon as breakfast was done. Of all her aunts Krystel was her favorite. She sat watching her finish packing the travel case. Skirts, blouses, heels, boots, swimsuit, lingerie, spare purse, cosmetics, some jewelry and a laptop on top. Underneath the false bottom were the custom form-fitted black battlesuit, weapons' rig and weapons. Krystel would carry two ten millimeter Glocks, a nine millimeter five shot micro-pistol, and Fairbarne-Applegate knife. Mindy didn't know about all that.

"You're leaving Aunt Kryssie," Mindy asked.

Krystel nodded as she finished adjusting the contents of the case, "yeah sweetie. Sometimes I have to go other places for work."

"You mean bad people are doing things with computers and you have to go find 'em and stop 'em," Mindy surmised.

Krystel slid her main Laptop into a travel case, "that's right."

The ten year old frowned, "secret stuff. Everybody does secret stuff. Except me. I am secret stuff."

"Hey. None of that talk," Krystel chided her then did one last check.

Mindy followed her out of the trailer and carried the laptop case. Krystel pulled her travel case and had her purse on her shoulder. They went to the tarmac in front of the main hangar. The Learjet was being prepped.

Krystel looked at her as they drew near, "oh. And no sneaking off to PrincessLand without your Mom watching until I get back."

"Yes Aunt Kryssie," Mindy sighed.

As a training tool Krystel had introduced her to the online simulator game for pre-teens. At first Mindy wasn't interested but it soon appealed to her. She now had friends from all over the world her age. The conversations with them were helping to build a more appropriate vocabulary and dialogue structure. Slowly but surely she was learning how to talk just like the girls her own age. The problem was the same problem that plagued any virtual world inhabited by children; predators. Twice people had tried to hack Mindy's location. Krystel of course detected the attempts and back-hacked the would-be penetrators. Local police were alerted to their presence and activities. She then proceeded to 'lock' their systems. Not even resetting or unplugging would help. The screen would come up and display all illegal content.

"Hey now. You aren't trying to stowaway are you pipsqueak," Rodrick asked walking out of the hangar.

Mindy shook her head, "no Uncle Rodrick. Uncle Carl promised to show how to snorkel today, but that's later."

Rodrick nodded, "sounds cool. You got a while before classes start. You can play Hide and Go Seek with Warlock."

"No way. Warlock always wins," Mindy said then handed over the laptop case.

"Well its one of his favorite games," Rodrick chuckled.

He bent down and hugged her then went up the plane's stairs. Krystel handed up her case then gave Mindy a hug.

"You be good. I shouldn't be long. Get going now," Krystel said and patted her on the butt to send her back from the plane.

Mindy knew the rules; stay back from the planes, no playing on the runway or in the ocean without an adult watching and no going south of the runway. It didn't take her long to know the reason behind that one, that's where they shot guns. Mindy tried playing fetch with Warlock. It didn't take her long to figure out he'd never bring anything back he was told to find. He would just sit there and yip to tell you he found it. When he found her, he barked. Mindy ran inside and climbed the stairs to the tower. LoneStar was up there.

"Hi Daddy," Mindy said.

LoneStar looked down and guided her to sit on the stool. Mindy climbed up and sat watching. LoneStar had a cable connected to his helmet. She had learned already that it was to the built-in communications. His helmet cable was compatible with any aircraft comms. He plugged in to the tower so he didn't have to take his helmet off to talk over a mic. He could also be heard over the speakers inside the control room.

"Tower to Ramrod. Clear to taxi," LoneStar said.

A few minutes later he called back, "in position Tower."

LoneStar checked the displays, "Clear for takeoff. Vector on heading two-eight-five at Angels two-four."

"Copy two-eight-five, angels two-four," Rodrick replied.

Mindy watched as the plane rolled forward then lifted off and headed north.

"Daddy. Why are we here," Mindy asked.

LoneStar unplugged from the comm system and leaned against the counter, "well do you mean figuratively or literally?"

"Literally," Mindy answered.

LoneStar crossed his arms, "Rodrick owns the island. He bought it to run his charter service because he was pretending to be shady. Its a good place for us all to hide while we train and run operations."

"Or just plain hide. Like me," Mindy said.

"And me. Its not so easy for me to be around in the states without drawing attention," LoneStar said, "Maria and the girls too. For them its kind of like witness protection but with strings attached."

"Strings," Mindy asked.

LoneStar shook his head, "not my business so I don't know. And before you even ask, yes I'm fine with that. I'm used to working on 'need-to-know' basis. We all are."

Mindy sighed, "secret stuff. Everybody but me, 'cause I am secret stuff."

"You get used to it," LoneStar patted her back, "or more like, you get used to it being around, in your case. Its like cold and flu season. People around you have to deal with it but you don't get it."

Mindy frowned.

He picked her up and started walking down the stairs, "let's put it in perspective. You've watched tv. There are real shows about spies and armies and all that right?"

"Uh-huh," Mindy answered.

"You knew about that but you never saw it. Now you really know about it but you still don't get to watch," LoneStar explained.

"Ok. Makes sense. So its there, but we don't talk about it. Unless we're part of what's going on," Mindy asked.

He nodded, "yep. Its called compartmentalizing. Like the lunch trays at school. Things don't mix unless they're supposed to."

They stopped at the classroom trailer and he opened the door and set her inside. Kristine and Kasey greeted them. Their day officially started then.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"I'll admit Miss Daniels. Its very odd for somebody on the sub-committee to come down here," the Air Force Colonel remarked.

Shawna nodded, "how's that old song go? These times, they are a changin'. Cyber attacks are increasing and we are hearing about it more often now. That makes a lot of people worry. As well they SHOULD worry. I'd like to say this isn't about politics, but I'd be lying. Voters do want to know that we are strong. The less they hear, the less they worry."

Groves nodded, "no news is good news. I get it, trust me."

"CyberOperations isn't like other fields. Sometimes the best doesn't come from structure or convention. Thinking outside the box tends to reign supreme," Shawna commented.

"Oh I FULLY understand that. I've been in command here for two years and still being called 'the Colonel Dude'," Groves shook his head.

Shawna shrugged, "the main consensus is that technicians aren't enough. What's needed are the cyber equivalent of Firebase commanders. Small working groups, that not only have technicians, but also have a leader with the working skill sets. I understand you proposed something similar last year."

A young woman in a Marine uniform knocked then opened the door, "Colonel. You wanted to be notified."

Shawna checked her watch, "oh. I seemed to have gone over the time I had asked for. My apologies Colonel."

"Not at all Miss Daniels. Its actually been a pleasure meeting with you. You're one of a handful that have come here on fact-finding and understood the facts," Colonel Groves stood up and offered a handshake.

He wasn't surprised when she did so in the Euro-style, a quick once up-down. The Senate investigator had been surprising in every other way. She had come in carrying only a portfolio with over forty very pointed questions. The kind asked by someone intending a complete upgrade of the system. After the first two questions he understood 'pat answers' would do no good. Technical would suffice but she was interested in actual working information. The kind that you get from the Arena.

The Arena was the room where the technicians ran operations of defense and sometimes offense. Two hundred terminals with only thirty that were user dedicated. Almost three-quarters were manned during the day while all of them were manned during the night.

The Colonel walked with her to the door, "I hope I've been a help. Have a safe trip back to D.C."

Shawna nodded with a smile as he held the door, "Thank you very much. I hope you have quiet day."

A woman in a cream color skirt and white blouse stood waiting. He noticed the departing woman nodded to his desk sergeant then the civilian woman, who nodded back.

"Come right in please," the Colonel invited.

"Thank you," Krystel said and went inside.

She handed him a set of papers, "Karen Ellington. I was sent by D.O.D. to run a systems check."

He read them over. The authorization was very high. It was the same as his own when he was posted. he exact purpose was vague though, which could mean a myriad of things. More than likely his clearance wasn't as high as hers and things were being compartmentalized.

"Well you'll find some ways to thicken the ICE. Just let us know how best to help you," Groves said.

Krystel was surprised. He wasn't being defensive. Most that were in commands such as this, they immediately assumed they were being blamed for something. Apparently he'd been around long enough to understand evolution. It happened and so should their own to maintain status.

Krystel had to comment, "that's a good stance to have Colonel."

"Miss Ellington I'm not a technician. I know enough about computers around here to look stupid. I've seen others come in and try to BS their way around and got laughed out of the building with a simple prank. My experience here tells me to pretty much get out of your way and get you whatever you say you need. Within reason," Groves stated.

"Oh don't worry. I won't harass you're command with outlandish requests," Krystel laughed.

Groves chuckled, "you have no idea how relieved that makes me. I'll have someone show you to a dedicated terminal."

Krystel stood up, "thank you."

"I'm not so proud to fool myself into not accepting any help that comes our way. We need it and I know," Groves admitted.

"Aye aye Sir," Krystel said and saluted with her left hand, the back of her fingers flat to her forehead.

She had also pronounced 'Sir' as 'S-AHh'.

Groves groaned, "please Miss Ellington. Let's not see THAT again. I'm Air Force and that was a naval affirmative to a british superior using a backwards british salute. I think you just set a record; for insulting two branches of the U.S. service and the British too at the same time."

Krystel giggled, "oops! How about I just go do my thing."

The Colonel had started to show her out, "I think that would be best, yes."

Krystel walked out and took note of the sailor standing there, "Here for me?"

He nodded, "yes Ma'am."

"Single-up and all ahead standard Sailor," Krystel ordered.

"AYE MA'AM," He called out and turned on his heel to stride forward.

Groves shook his head. He'd got played. Her faux-pas had been intentional as humor. She'd played the blonde air-head for four seconds and he'd bought it. Just another reminder that nobody should be taken at face value. Intelligence shouldn't be assumed, it would be proven.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel followed the young sailor to the elevator and went down three floors and got out. He led her into a very large room.

"Welcome to the Arena Ma'am. Right this way," He announced.

Krystel glanced around as he guided her through. There were cubicles everywhere and in the center of the room there seemed to be an abbreviated briefing going on with a working group of eight, looking at four screens scrolling code. High on the wall were six large plasma screens. the middle left screen scrolling green code, the others blank. The cubicles mostly reflected the personalities occupying them. Usually decorated for civilian techs while the ones manned by military personnel were adorned in a subdued, professional manner. They stopped in front of one along the wall at the end of a row. It held seven screens.

"Here you are Ma'am. This one is for your use and set up as you specified," the sailor stated.

Krystel looked it over and nodded, "well done Sailor. Carry on."

"Aye Ma'am," He said then left.

Krystel set her purse on the shelf under the desk then opened her laptop case. She took out her MP3 player, Headset and cables. In seconds she was jacked in and used her pass-codes to gain access. Krystel selected a track mix on the player and hit play. Unnoticed by her, she selected the mix titled 'Dive 14' and not 'Dive 1'. Both started the same so her mistake continued. All seven screens lit up and began displaying codes. Soon she focused and the rest of the world fell away.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Matt had went to the bathroom and came back. He noticed the terminal at the end was now occupied. Everyone in that area had seen the crew come in and set it up. They were all curious. Almost all the terminals had two screens, some had three but only a select few had four and those were usually operated at night. The interesting part wasn't that the operator was a woman; it was that the woman seemed attractive in the conventional sense. He decided to check her out later and went back to his terminal. Four hours later he shut down for the day and picked up his things. A glance down the row confirmed she was still there, but now had an audience. Three techs stood back watching. He joined them and had his jaw hit the floor. All seven screens were displaying different codes and shifting from one to the others. The part that had them all fascinated was the speed at which the codes were scrolling.

"Damn dude. Hot chick is blasting across the ICE," one of the guys muttered.

The others nodded and murmured their agreement. Matt wasn't sure it was in appreciation of her skills or looks. From what he could see, both were noteworthy.

"Might as well go home. I doubt she's doing anything else anytime soon," A female tech said and wandered off.

The others agreed and began making their own way out. Matt did too. He met up with Sergeant Florentine in the elevator.

"Hi Leslie," Matt greeted the female Marine.

she nodded back, "Hi Matt. Quiet day."

Matt nodded back, "just the way we like it. Hey Leslie. I hate to bring this up. I heard back from one of my previous applications. Its out on the west coast. They're reconsidering me. If they hire me would the Colonel have a conniption if I don't give a full two weeks?"

Leslie sighed, "he won't be thrilled. Damn private sector."

Matt chuckled, "Its not just about the money Les. The benefits package are top shelf. Plus perks."

"USC Coeds should not be called 'perks' Matt," Leslie replied slightly agitated.

Matt leaned closer, "car and a condo. THOSE are perks Leslie, ladies are ladies."

The Marine shook her head, "nice catch Matt. How you tell him will make the difference."

"It shouldn't be that big of a deal. I saw a new face today. Looked serious," Matt remarked.

Leslie shook her head again, "the D.O.D. woman? Just here to evaluate. I doubt she'd even accept a drink invitation."

"Considering everybody thinks she's going to be at it for hours. That's a given," Matt remarked.

"Hours? She just got here this afternoon," Leslie said.

Matt nodded, "yeah. The way she's moving across the ICE; her eval will be done by morning. coming?"

The elevator had stopped at the ground floor and opened. The sergeant shook her head as he got out.

"I forgot something," Leslie said and pushed to go back up.

Matt looked at her puzzled as the doors closed. He shrugged and left.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Colonel. I think we may have a problem," Leslie said barging into his office.

Colonel Groves, "what?"

Leslie used a remote and called up a video feed from the Arena and zoomed to Krystel, "one of the techs made a comment. The D.O.D. woman may be diving."

Groves was out of his chair and strode over to the monitor, "oh shit! How far has she gone?"

Leslie shrugged, "we have to assume she's been from the start."

"FUCK! Why wasn't that in her paperwork," He swore then went over to his phone and buzzed an extension.

The call was answered and he spoke fast, "Commander Melton. Terminal one-seven. Yes, its in service. Put a minder on the operator. I think she's a diver. No, don't interrupt her. Just keep watch. If she shows any stress notify me immediately. Right, take the standard precautions."

Leslie asked after he disconnected, "should I stay?"

The Colonel shook his head, "no Sergeant. The Commander is now aware and he'll look out for her. Damn it. She said nothing."

Leslie shrugged, "maybe she uses timers and set it herself?"

"It should have been in her paperwork. Damn higher-ups. Go ahead and head out Sergeant. We're back in hand now," Groves stated.

The Marine nodded and left with a salute. Grove went back over to the monitor and watched.

"How deep are you going to go and for how long," Groves asked to nobody.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel popped. A cramp hit her. She blinked her eyes to refocus and suddenly felt the very strong urge to pee. She pulled the earbuds out and slowly stood up and turned around. The same sailor that had showed her to the terminal stood there waiting.

"Ma'am," he said.

Krystel nodded, "as you were. Where's the ladies' room Sailor?"

He turned around and pointed, "over there Ma'am. That small hallway and on the right. First door."

Krystel secured the terminal and did her best to retain her calm demeanor but walked quickly. She sat down inside just in time. She estimated three more seconds and her worry would be over in a negative way. A glance at her watch said it was only four in the afternoon. Only it was the next day. Krystel wanted to groan. She had selected the wrong playlist and ended up diving instead of skimming. She finished her business, washed her hands and walked out. There was a snack area right across so she pulled money from her purse and bought a bottle of water and drank it. It was empty in a few seconds.

"Damn. I never thought drinking water could look so hot. I'll never look at a bottle the same," a male voice said.

Krystel turned around and saw the speaker. A civilian. six foot two-ish, about a hundred and eighty to two hundred, medium length light brown hair, brown eyes and wrong. Something was wrong. He wasn't right.

"That so," Krystel asked and looked back at the machine.

The man nodded, "Hells yeah."

"Miss Ellington," another voice called out.

Krystel looked over, "that would be me."

He nodded, "yes ma'am. I was notified you had surfaced. Its after sixteen hundred."

Krystel finally decided and purchased a diet soda, "thank you."

"Thursday," the Commander added.

Krystel cracked the cap and deliberately sipped seductively in profile to the other man then smirked, "only thursday Commander?"

She turned away from the other man and winked at the officer as she walked by, heading back to the terminal.

Matt had watched her walk away and wanted to drool, "damn Commander Melton. Where'd they find HER?"

"On the job Collins," the Commander replied then walked away.

Matt nodded, "right. We're on the job."

He bought a soda and went back to his own terminal. A quick glance and he saw her making notes on a pad. An hour later she secured everything and made her way out. Matt was amazed. One moment she was putting things away, the next she was gone and he looked around to see her in the elevator as the doors were closing. When he walked out she was completely gone.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 3

Krystel drove the silver Toyota Celica casually out the main gate and down the avenue. Several blocks away she pulled in at a convenience store and went inside to come back out with a bottle of water. Back inside the car she used the scanner to check for transmitters. There weren't any. She drove around aimlessly for twenty minutes and saw no one following her so she turned north and drove until she arrived at an old marina. Krystel parked in a space and walked down the dock until she found a boat named Furious Freddy.

"Ahoy Furious Freddy," Krystel called out.

A minute later an older man in faced jeans and no shirt stood in the door, "Kid said you was coming. He said yesterday. You that bad about directions?"

"I was working. Job comes first," Krystel replied.

He waved her forward and went back in. He returned a minute later to see her still standing in the same spot.

"Waitin' on somethin' girl," He growled.

"Just for permission to come aboard Master Chief," Krystel stated.

"Granted," he said then watched as she timed the motion of the water as it lifted the boat upward against the dock and stepped onto the boat nimbly.

The old man commented, "ain't you clever. Inside."

Krystel followed him in to a counter.

"Park it lil' girl," He said and offered a beer.

Krystel shook her head, "no thanks Master Chief. That coffee smells good though."

He poured her a cup and passed it over, "so what do I call you?"

"Krystel, Master Chief," she replied.

"Krystel what," he asked.

Krystel smiled, "just Krystel Master Chief."

"Kid said you was alright. Go ahead and call me Bugsy. Chow's in thirty minutes, I got you a rack below. First on the left is you and there's a Head right across. You need somethin' special," Bugsy asked.

Krystel shook her head, "not at the moment. I'll go grab my gear and be right back."

Bugsy nodded. When she returned he shook his head.

"Don't see how you get around in them silly shoes," Bugsy commented nodding at her feet.

Krystel laughed, "lots of practice. Uniform is a uniform."

"Fair point," Bugsy said and started cooking.

"Need help," Krystel asked.

"Got it," Bugsy said.

Krystel set up her main laptop. The one from her suitcase and powered up.

"I ain't got internet," Bugsy said noticing.

Krystel nodded, "I'll be using a secure satellite anyway."

He turned around and watched as she took a box the size of a cigar box. Krystel plugged it into an outlet then plugged a cable from it into her laptop. Two minutes later she began typing. She finished just as he called out the food was ready.

"Soon as you're done hit the rack," Bugsy growled.

"I look tired," Krystel asked.

Bugsy nodded, "somebody trained you real good but I can tell. Kid says you got the goods. On the job and stick out til done."

Krystel nodded, "that's right."

"Well I don't buy into all that Mission complete, Mission accomplished horse shit. The Mission is done or the mission is fucked. Guess which one is acceptable," Bugsy asked intently.

Krystel held his glare, "fucked is never acceptable."

"I been around a lot longer'n you and the Kid. I seen everybody do everything right, entire missions go to fuckin' Hell by the numbers and the cockbites in the rear still call 'em a success. I don't buy that shit. Don't you ever do it either. You stay on mission until it ain't there no more. GET ME," Bugsy said angrily.

"AYE Master Chief," Krystel answered.

Bugsy nodded, "Hoo-fuckin'-yah. Hit the rack."

Krystel nodded and went to her cabin.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel awoke at five on the second beep of the clock's alarm. She changed into the sport bikini, pulled on socks and tied her running shoes. On her way out she grabbed the small waterproof pack and slug it onto her back. Five minutes later she was running down the road. She returned an hour and forty minutes later, climbing onto the dock from the water. After stretching then rinsing off with a hose she stepped onto the boat. Bugsy met her with a cup of coffee.

"How far," He asked.

"Six out. I think five back," Krystel answered.

"That five back was against the current. Your time is plenty good," Bugsy remarked then asked, "why only that far?"

Krystel laughed, "can't spend all morning on PT."

She went below and got ready for the day then left. Bugsy shook his head. Operations had changed a lot since his days.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Matt had run to the vending machines area for a cup of coffee and a soda. Outside drink containers weren't allowed. Travel mugs were available to buy but had to remain on site. He'd immediately bought one on the first day. He had just re-entered the Arena when he saw her. The D.O.D. woman. And she looked NICE! He wasn't the only one to notice and think so either. Several heads had turned at her arrival. So far all anyone knew about her was that her last name was Ellington and she was from D.O.D. One thing for sure, all the males agreed that she wasn't just a tech. Her appearance and the fact that she made a dive on the first day put that rumor to bed fast. She looked like an office type, moved like a model and worked like a mainframe operator.

Matt saluted her with his cup, "morning."

Krystel smiled, "good morning."

A second after she passed it hit him. Very faint. He almost missed it. An almost flowery scent. Like something you'd smell walking into a garden just as the sun went down. Jasmine? Ginger? What was it?

"Pssst! Wake up dude," a voice hissed to him.

Matt looked over, "huh?"

The young tech shook his head, "dude. Ya been really cool so far like, but don't let the Commander catch ya scopin'. And DEFINITELY don't let th' Colonel see ya do it. Ya wanna go lala-land, g'head. Bad they catch ya. Jus' sayin'."

Matt nodded, "yeah. Sorry about that Nick. She's just so different from all of us, know?"

The seventeen year old nodded, "get it dude, get it. Way diff. D.O.D. Ice Queen. Talkin' serious bank."

"She's an Ice Queen? Where'd you hear that," Matt asked in a low voice.

Nick nodded in the direction of the room's center, "Commander. Talkin' th' Colonel. They put a keeper on 'er."

"Whoa. Serious," Matt asked.

The teen glanced around subtly and nodded, "she dove for like maybe sixteen hours. Commander got real nervous and Colonel was pissed 'cause nobody said nothin'. No warnin' or anythin'. People dive deeper than a few hours are supposed to have warnin' an stuff. She didn't an' the Colonel was pissed. Somethin' happens an' its his fault. That's not how things work and people knew but still didn't say nothin'. Weird. She's like nice an' stuff. Wouldn't know she's like that."

Matt looked confused, "what do you mean?"

Nick nodded to her, "like; she's pretty an all that, but not stuck up. She operates but not all 'I'm the shit an' you ain't'. She dives but she's here. She said hi to me. Weird dude. Dunno can hang with that."

Matt watched the kid wander back to his terminal. He felt a bit sorry for him. The kid had graduated from college at fourteen and went to work for CyberForce right out of the gate. A genius brain in a child's mind. Some things weren't fair. The kid was brilliant and strong Cyber-specialist without argument. Matt doubted he would ever actually meet a decent girl that would like him just for him. He'd heard that on more than one occasion a minder would be put on someone like him and that would evolve into a relationship. Intentionally evolve that is. To somebody else that might sound crass, but the suicide rate among those types was high enough to shut those arguments up. He glanced over to her again and could see why the kid thought she was strange. Already an aide took station by her terminal. An Airman this time. Apparently they weren't taking anymore chances with her and she would have Minders when she was working.

Matt sat down at his terminal and slipped on the headset. Everyone wore them when working. Usually the person would hear whatever music they brought along until something happened. A major incursion would interrupt everything so they could go into instant war-footing. A small boom mic would become voice activated so counter-attacks could be coordinated.

That's what happened five hours later.

"ALERT! HOSTILE ACTION DETECTED! MULTI-PRONGED ATTACK!"

The Commander's voice then came out, "Go to war people!"

"Remain calm. Counter-action now underway," a female voice answered.

Everyone looked up as the big main screen split in two. Half red code and half green. The red code then split off to the other screens to the left and divided multiple times each.

"SINGLE ASPECT DEFENSE."

"WHAT THE HELL," the Commander demanded then froze.

Everyone was now watching the green code. It split off more times and just continued to separate. The green code had matched the speed of the red and even began to accelerate.

The female voice announced, "Bedrock enabled."

Matt's eyes widened. 'Bedrock' was the condensing of the ICE, making it more dense to slow down the penetration.

"Launching Javelin," the woman said.

Matt placed the voice now. It was her! Quickly he spun around and looked. She appeared calm as she worked. No frantic typing or any or that.

"Black Hole forming. Deploying Cluster," Krystel narrated.

Several voices remarked in surprise. They all knew 'Black Holes' were used to simply absorb counter-attacks. 'Cluster' essentially was a self-replicating virus. Big self-replicating viral attack. They'd never seen this happen though. She'd put the cluster out front and it was replicating itself and launching more attacks into the black hole.

"Boomerang," Krystel announced.

Now they saw and understood. The black hole was taking all the cluster attacks and allowing the boomerang attack to go around and attack the black hole from its source code. In moments the black hole collapsed from the double attack and the cluster continued on through.

Krystel voice announced, "incursion verified. Source origin: India. Launching Damocles."

People were now standing up from their terminals and looking around to see who was doing it. Most were moving now to watch the monitors. Even the Commander was doing that. The red code had slowed down a lot. Now it was barely moving. The green code was scrolling so fast no one could easily read it. Suddenly the red code started disappearing one by one.

"I have the array," Krystel announced.

Several of the younger people chorused, "WHOA!"

Krystel continued, "Initializing Vortex."

"DAMN," Nick said in a long breath.

They all knew Vortex was more powerful version of Black Hole. Only it didn't absorb attacks. It absorbed everything. Only one string of red code remained and it was frozen in place while the green code was a blur now.

"SuperNova," Krystel announced.

Nick had walked over to Matt, "Dude. Its ALL over. They're toast!"

The red suddenly went blank. Matt blinked and looked at Nick.

The teen shook his head, "they're so done. Somebody really lied."

Matt asked, "lied?"

Nick nodded to her, "her. She ain't no Ice Queen."

Before Nick could move the Commander went running by, "SHE DID WHAT?"

Everyone was now watching as he all but skidded to a stop in front of her terminal and tapped her shoulder.

Krystel slipped the headset back, "yes Commander?"

"Just for a little clarity. What EXACTLY did you do to that Array," He asked carefully.

"Its been downloaded to Artemis. Have a nice day Commander," Krystel said and turned back around and resumed work.

Nick groaned, "Oh fuck!"

Matt whispered, "what did she do, really?"

Nick whispered back, "she completely downloaded the whole array and sent it to the D.I.A.'s Super-Array: Artemis. She pretty much killed that whole array in India. By doing that she made it fry completely out. They'll have to rebuild it from the ground up AND create new software. she just set them back like three years, minimum. Ain't no Ice Queen. Dude, she's a fuckin' Sorceress! Best I ever heard of! Ok. I'm scared of her now."

Matt watched the kid go back to his terminal and go back to work. Matt followed him.

"What do mean Nick," Matt asked.

Nick looked at him nervously and whispered, "dude look down there at her. Anybody else around here on day would be jumpin' 'round and partyin'. Not her. It was nothin' to her. She just jacked and killed a country all by herself and it was nothin'. I met a Sorcerer. It woulda took three to do what she just did. ALONE. Fuckin' scary. Like Final Five scary. Sorry dude, your girlfriend was a cylon the whole time. Like that!"

"Whoa Nick. Chill, ok? She's not going to kill us or anything. Ok so she's the best we've ever seen or heard of. She's working with us here. Not against us. Its all good. So she's more than advertised. I don't blame her for it. People that good are always in demand. And not just by the good guys. If the bad guys find out she'd never see sunlight again. Right? Look at her as inspiration. Hard work'll get you up to that too," Matt said and patted his back.

"Problem here," the Commander asked.

Matt leaned closer and whispered, "I think a bit of an inadequacy issue may be developing."

Commander Melton nodded, "Mister Morris don't let that affect your performance. You have talent and skill. You are gaining experience. You'll always encounter those with more or less of that than yourself. Focus on yourself and your ability to work within a group. You've done that well so far. One day you may be able to surpass that. Until then put forth all of your best efforts. Hard work does reap rewards. The show is over, let's get back to work gentlemen."

Matt nodded and patted Nick on the back, "what he said. Right?"

Nick nodded, "yeah."

Matt went back to his terminal and thought to himself, 'maybe she's the answer to my problem? Maybe she could help?'

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel dove back into the ICE.

"This is who I am. This is what I do," Krystel whispered to herself.

She could have done without the distraction but she couldn't do what she was there to do with that happening. So far she couldn't see anything wrong in the system.

'See the jungle, not the trees. That's how you'll find its weakness and strength.'

Lyssa's words had filled her head. She was looking at things wrong. She needed to look at the bigger picture. Krystel began typing and the aspect changed.

"See the construct; not the code," she said and turned the music back on.

Soon it was as if she was looking at walls created. Slowly she began exploring. How thick and how dense they were. Then began inspecting the openings in those walls. How things came in, how they went out and where. Finally she went in. Like swimming out of a cove and into the ocean. Data surged and ebbed like tides. Krystel began inserting partial lines of code. After two hours she noticed something. Someone had done something similar. If the data was downloaded to an unauthorized source the partial codes would reassemble there and send out a message, locating that source. Partial code always caught her attention. It was like having a chipped nail. ANNOYING. Especially for her. People that type a lot tend to pay attention to their hands since they're necessary. And for Krystel nothing was more aggravating than to have broken or chipped nail. Partial code had the same effect.

Krystel finished adding the code fragments, like dropping buoys. They would ride the data. She watched as data began to pool in certain areas then drop out. A check revealed those areas belong to various entities. Except one. One she couldn't tell who controlled it. The data pooling there didn't seem to be specific, just whatever wound up there. Something else stood out too. Whoever was dropping tracking code like she was, they were specific. Only information relevant to coordinated activities with Australia was being tracked. Access by the Navy was being ignored. That struck her as odd. Only the Navy should really be concerned about coordinating with Australian forces on a regular basis.

Suddenly the music stopped and Krystel snapped back to reality. She blinked her eyes and focused. It was five o' clock. She looked over her shoulder and saw the Airman paying attention to her.

"I'm here Airman. Let the Commander know I'm shutting down for the day," Krystel instructed him.

He nodded and stood up, "yes Ma'am."

Krystel made some notes in her book then locked it in the desk. She put away her things and began to leave. She walked down the stairs instead of the elevator. It worked out the stiffness of her legs. She walked out to her car and slid into the seat. Seat belt buckled and sunglasses were on before she pulled out into traffic. Within five minutes she realizd she had picked up a tail. Shawna had left her a note in the car when she picked up to tell her it was modified. Krystel was about to find out for certain.

She turned onto a wide avenue then pulled onto a two lane one-way street. Krystel dropped a gear and accelerated. The import car leapt forward and she upshifted a second after it whined. Her move had caught the tail car unaware and they foolishly floored it to keep up. Krystel smiled and coasted toward the next intersection then down-shifted and turned slightly, throwing the Celica into a slide. She drifted the turn and around another in the opposite direction. Up two blocks then another right. The light ahead was green and she hit the nitrous button. Like a rocket she raced through the intersection past the one-way street and turned at the next going right again. Backtracking two blocks, turned left and went out several blocks then turned left this time and slowed down. She saw a house with higher grass than the others around it and stopped then backed into the drive to park under the carport.

Krystel checked her pistol and sat waiting. Twenty minutes went by and she started the car back up and slowly rolled out. She drove carefully and backtracked several times to ensure she was not being followed again then went to the marina. She parked and began to look over the car.

"Somebody bump you at a light or somethin," Bugsy asked.

Krystel shook her head crouching down to look underneath, "somebody tried to tail me."

Bugsy lost all humor, "tried?"

Krystel nodded and then went to look under the hood, "they're wandering around trying to figure out where I went and how I did it so fast. No trackers."

Bugsy sat down the cooler he was carrying and went over. He too went over the car.

"What the story on this car. Some these parts look brand new," Bugsy asked.

Krystel closed the hood, "its set up for drifting. In a city its less about about top end and more about agility. If we were west of the Mississippi then I'd go for pure speed. Here in a tight city like this I need to be able to manuever. That's where drifting comes in. Its more stable to slide than turn. I slide the back end around then power forward and I can turn better and recover speed faster than slowing down for a turn. That's drifting. Its great for tight streets. Nitrous works for opening up more distance. If I had more room and longer stretches of road I'd need a a V-8 and a supercharger. These streets are shorter and tighter so I less room to run."

Bugsy nodded, "ok. I get that. Like the old Cobra. All stick and pedal drivin'."

"Pretty much, only its not circumstance. Its intentional," Krystel said.

Bugsy picked up the cooler and the way to the boat. The cooler turned out to be full of shrimp. After dinner Krystel used her laptop to connect to the Super-Array back on the island and used it to sneak back into CyberForce's Athena. She had authorized codes to infiltrate all U.S. Super-Arrays so it wasn't a problem. It was just a lot less problems to go on-site than to work off site. She was just watching so it wasn't a big problem. She checked the area from earlier and it was empty. Krystel backed out of Athena. then pulled up the conference window. She was surprised to get Kimberly.

"Hey Krystel. What's up," Kimberly asked.

"I need a drop," Krystel answered.

Kimberly nodded, "which one."

Krystel stated, "assault pack. No. Send me a Penetration pack."

Kimberly nodded, "you'll have it tomorrow. Sometime tomorrow. Anything else?"

"Check out Matt Collins at CyberForce. I don't think he's a problem. but something's not right about him," Krystel said.

"Matt Collins. I'll run him through everything. Is that it," Kimberly asked.

Krystel nodded, "for now. Somebody tried to tail me. They were driving a black Hyundai Genesis. I couldn't get a plate but it definitely looked brand new."

Kimberly made note of that too, "ok. G'night."

"Night," Krystel replied and shut down.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 4

Bugsy held out the cup of coffee as she walked in toweling off from her PT.

"Thank you," Krystel said and drank it in three long pulls.

She then refilled it and mixed to her liking then went below. Forty minutes later Bugsy walked past. the door was slightly ajar and he caught a glimpse. Krystel was in turquoise lace bra and panties and slipping on a shiny turquoise blouse. he shook his head and continued to his cabin and pulled on socks and work boots.

Krystel finished buttoning the blouse then strapped the Fairbarne-Applegate knife to the back of her right thigh with a fake garter. She stepped into a black flare skirt and zipped it after smoothing her blouse into it. Her battlesuit, boots, socks and weapons' rig went into a small duffle along with her main laptop. She slid one of the pistols into the holster at the small of her back then picked up the jacket that matched the skirt, duffle and went back up to the main room.

Bugsy saw the black patent heels and shook his head, "operations changed a lot since my day. Still don't see the worth of all this computer stuff."

Krystel set her things down and filled a travel cup, "back in the day. You would listen in on the enemy radio chatter and just to give them problems, blow their comms, right?"

Bugsy sipped from his own cup, "yeah. So?"

Krystel added sugar to her coffee, "what if you could not only listen to their chatter, but change what was being said? Or reach out and change what they know? The enemies use satellites to see long distances. Make them think there's more of something than there really is. Instead of a cruiser off their coast, they think there's a carrier battlegroup. Or make them think there's nothing there and really there's a carrier battlegroup?"

"Misinformation. Battlefield deception," Bugsy stated.

Krystel shrugged, "that's an aspect of it. We can not just make them blind, deaf and dumb. We can make them cocky and stupid then dead. What works for can also work against. A double-edge sword. It cuts both ways.They try to do it to us, we try to do it to them. Quick, smart, strong and gutsy makes a difference. Sometimes ALL the difference."

"So what's this ICE you talked about," Bugsy asked.

Krystel glanced at the clock then sipped from her cup, "we have information. We protect that information with walls of code. That's the ICE. To get through that ICE you can brute force break in. Like blowing a hole in the wall. Or you can drill through a small hole to take little bits and pieces. Or you can embed yourself. Like water moving through sand.The more sections of code you have, the thicker the ICE. The more layers of code on top of each other, the more dense the ICE."

"Like the polar ice pack," Bugsy surmised.

Krystel slipped on the jacket, "right. I'm expecting a drop. You can still get on base right?"

Bugsy nodded, "no problem."

"Good. Here's the spare key to the car. I just need you to put my drop in the back of the car. Would you," Krystel asked.

"That pistol ain't enough if you run into some shit. I can get a few things for you. No explosives but I can get you an assault rifle. A long range rifle I can get too," Bugsy said.

Krystel shook her head, "everything I'll need will be in the drop."

"oh," Bugsy said, "yeah I'll get it to you. They know me at the gate so it won't be a problem."

She picked up the duffle, her black purse and laptop case, "thanks."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Matt shook his head as he sat in the car as he listened on the phone.

"You heard right; Karen Ellington? D.O.D. or D.I.A. right," the caller asked.

Matt confirmed, "yeah."

"Doesn't exist mate," the caller said, "not according to our records and they're current."

Matt asked, "did you check as a civilian contractor. Maybe she's C.I.A. Maybe D.A.R.P.A."

"You're not listenin' Mate. There is no Karen Ellington. Alive anyways. I got one here that died fifteen years years ago at age seventy-two. Not gettin' into that god-awful zombie craze are ya," the caller asked.

"Not unless they're making zombies in their mid-to-late twenties, cover-model gorgeous, drives like a career criminal street-racer and counter-hack like a complete army of black-hats. Got anybody like that in the files," Matt asked.

The caller laughed, "NO, but I'm developing a hard-on mate! Zombie or not, is she single? Put a tracker on her car and see where she leads."

"Oh you're loads o' help. Bye," Matt said and disconnected.

Just then he saw her pull in and get out.

"What the hell is she doin'," Matt wonder aloud then shook his head.

She walked around the car and tapped each tire with her foot. Nick was right. She is a bit strange. Cover-model was true though. Again she looked like she was straight out of a magazine. Were the bottoms of her shoes pink? Why? he remembered from a conversation with his sister some time back that the high heels with red bottoms were really expensive and women wanted them like crazy. What about pink bottomed high heels? Where they more important, and why did it suddenly matter to him? He'd never paid attention to that before.

Matt dug into his console and pulled out two trackers and plastic cable-ties. He got out as she started walking toward the building and casually strolled over. After a quick glance around he dropped down and tied one tracker to the frame and the other above the muffler. He then made his way inside at a jog. She had finished checking in at the desk and was walking away. He showed his card then singed in as well. When he turned to go, she was gone. He hurried to the elevator and rode up with two other techs. In the Arena he looked and saw her sitting at her terminal.

"Fuck what'd she do, teleport," he asked himself in a whisper as he went to his own terminal for his cup and went for coffee.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"AHOY! Looking for the skipper of this tub," Rodrick called out.

Bugsy stood in the doorway, "yeah?"

Rodrick nodded, "yeah. Can't miss him. Some scraggly, waterlogged, wrinkled up, squint-eyed, saggy-balled, hobble-legged old fuckin' geezer."

"And just where did a wet-behind-the-balls, knock-kneed, cross-eyed, goofy lookin', zit-poppin', peach-fuzzed, pencil-dicked, shit-fer-brains occifer get that kind of vocabulary," Bugsy asked.

"I had a degenerate for a teacher," Rodrick laughed then stepped aboard.

Bugsy shook his head, "didn't teach any manners. The fuck said you could come aboard?"

Rodrick held up a twelve-pack of beer, "I'm gonna bribe the skipper."

Bugsy nodded his head to follow him, "get in here."

Rodrick followed him inside.

Bugsy hooked a thumb to a stool at the counter, "park it. Uppity shit."

Rodrick passed a beer over and sat down opening one for himself.

"Thought you was on rug-rat detail," Bugsy asked.

Rodrick nodded, "I was. Wifey finished up early so I came up with a care package for Krystel. How are things here?"

Bugsy shook his head, "damn married asshole. How do you think? My boat's starting to smell girly and I understand a little about this computer warfare rat-shit."

Rodrick laughed, "getting lonely now?"

"There's a girl down at the bar for when I get lonely. You drinking another of my bribe," Bugsy asked.

Rodrick shook his head, "nah. I gotta fly. I just stopped off making a hop to drop off her stuff."

Bugsy nodded, "let's get to it."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel's phone buzzed. She check it and saw the notice that codes had reassembled. An unauthorized system. Krystel shut down the terminal and grabbed her things. She told Commander Melton she had a meeting and left. Down at the car she laughed. A note was folded over the bottom of the steering wheel.

Care package in the back. took a quick look-see and found a tracker.
Bugsy

"Thank YOU Master Chief," Krystel smiled.

She picked up the tracker and looked at it then started the car and drove out. Outside the gate she tossed it out the window. She drove a mile away and pulled into a parking lot and powered up her main laptop. After connecting to a satellite she decoded the message. She then traced it back and found the location. It looked like an old house in the woods close to a marsh. She drove to within a mile of the target location and parked behind a cluster of short palms. Krystel changed into her battle-suit and boots then shrugged into the weapons' rig. From the suitcase that had been dropped off she assembled the CAR-15. Extra magazines went into pouches along with pre-made precision charges and handful of det-cord with a remote detonator. Four frag grenades, a smoke, a flash-bang and an incendiary rounded out the munitions.

Krystel applied her facial paint is black, and two shades of green then started making her way to the target. It took an hour to get close enough. She'd checked all the way for anti-intrusion. A quarter of a mile out she started to see them along the road even though she was five meters off of it and moved another ten meters out to parallel it. She stopped a hundred meters from the house and began to look it over with a rifle scope.

Two men stood on the front porch with assault rifles. A third could be seen at the back of house that occasionally wander to each corner to look around but he wasn't really expecting to see anyone. He seemed to be doing so more out of obligation than anything else. They all wore khaki cargo pants and cotton t-shirts and had a pistol holstered at their hip in addition to the civilian model AR-15's they carried. Krystel moved closer around the end of the tree-line. A shed at the back had a generator that was running and several fuel cans were arranged next to the shed. She found an angle and looked through a window using the scope. The front door wasn't a viable entrance. The outside was a wood veneer over what looked like a metal door that had been made. It was barred with two metal slats. Yeah that was no way in. She had to assume the back door was the same. She now had a choice; try a window or make her own door. With doors that strong there was a high chance the windows would be rigged with some kind of anti-intrusion since there were no bars.

Krystel backtracked down the road almost an eighth of a mile and managed to climb out a utility pole. There was only one wire and it looked like either telephone or cable, not electrical. She squeezed one of the charges around it and climbed back down. Back at the house she made her way in closer on the backside and waited. When the look-out went to the corner she moved in. When he turned back around she greeted him with a powerful upward thrust of the Fairbarne-Applegate. It went straight between his ribs into the heart and she drove him to the ground clamping a hand over his mouth.

He went down in such surprise there was no struggle. She held position for a few moments but saw his eyes starting to glaze over and recovered. She then went over to the generator and affixed a charge at the carburetor then went to the house's wall. Carefully Krystel stuck det-cord to the wall in two loops with some tape. She set the remote to detonate all three charges, the line, generator and wall. To distract the occupants she took a frag grenade, pulled the pin and threw it over the roof toward the front of the house. She counted after throwing and at three she hit the remote. Four explosions went off almost simultaneously.

Krystel bolted in through the large hole in the wall and checked the hall. She could hear men shouting in a dialect of Arabic she wasn't familiar with. She could only understand one out of four words. A man was looking out a window by the back door and two were crouched by the front windows. Krystel ripped off a burst to the backdoor man then charge the front room firing tight bursts. One tried to fire back but missed as she tucked in tight to the wall and changed hands to fire around the corner left-handed. He came from the old-school style. 'Use every bullet until the mag runs dry and hope you got 'em'. When the bolt locked open Krystel angled around and stitched him, center mass. As he dropped she changed magazines stalked around the corner. There was bagging at the door and a man screaming. Krystel continued around the room until someone fired froma side room. Their shot went wide and she dove to the other side. Quickly she aimed out the window and ripped into the man outside the door. The other lay face down on the porch in a slick of blood from what she could see.

A movement from the corner of the hall caught her attention and she swung the carbine around. Immediately Matt raised his hands. A burst of auto-fire focused both their attention back to the other room. Apparently there was more than one in there. Matt held his pistol in a no-fire position and shook his head. Krystel changed magazines again then glanced to the far room in disgust. She shifted the rifle to her left hand and reached for another frag with her right. Matt's eyes widened and edged back from the corner and crouched low. Krystel pulled the pin, flipped the spoon off as she counted and pitched it.

The grenade went off with a puff of smoke and loud bang. Krystel moved closer and fired into the room. It took a moment but another burst of auto-fire answered her. Glass then shattered from inside.

"Shit," Krystel swore and leaned the rifle around and fired into the room again.

Three single shots answered then a burst then nothing. Krystel spun in low ready to fire and no one was there. Outside she saw two men running to the woods, one carrying a rifle and the other a bag and a pistol.

"FUCK," Krystel exclaimed then rounded on Matt, "I should cut you in fucking half!"

"DON'T FUCKIN' SHOOT! I'M A.S.I.S.! Australian Intelligence! On the same bloody side," He yelled fast.

"You've seen me. And more importantly you fucked up MY op stupid," Krystel growled.

Matt shook his head, "nobody's here, nothin' was seen, and none of this happened! All I know is you're some bloody office sheila. Rotten typist and always headed for the dunnie!"

"Move your ass for now. If they get away I'm shooting your ass off sheer principle," Krystel waved him with the rifle then pulled the incendiary.

She hopped out the hole in the wall, pulled the pin and tossed it back inside. A quick magazine change and she started tracking the two escapees at a run.

 

~o~O~o~
 

'WHO THE FUCK IS SHE,' Matt thought.

He had hurried down when he noticed she was gone and tried the trackers. One was moving and the other was stationary outside the main gate. He followed the moving one and prayed it was her. He'd found her car and found her footprints and followed. He'd been startled when the explosions went off and ws just in time to see her bolt inside. He followed the sound of auto-fire until he saw the barrel of carbine swing his way. Now he was chasing somebody through the woods for god knows what reason.

"Hey. As a matter of tradecraft. If I help you run these blokes down, will you hear me out. I wanted to ask for your help," Matt huffed behind her.

"Was that you in the black hyundai," Krystel asked running fast parallel to a trail.

Matt was amazed at her speed, "yeah. I didn't want anybody to think I was trying to make a pass on the job. You yanks are funny like that so I tried to follow you so I could talk private."

"oh we're gonna talk alright. About the very deep shit you're in. Right now I want those guys more so move it," Krystel said and sped up.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Nubobo stopped and looked back in anger, "hurry up! They are surely behind us!"

His companion carrying a laptop case and pistol was gasping for breath, "who are they?"

" American Intelligence or military. What does it matter? They found us and now we must escape Jafaa," Nubobo said.

Jafaa stumbled to a stop, " How? They will keep chasing us."

Nubobo looked around and saw dried leaves and straw. It gave him an idea. They had see many fires on the news broadcasts. Many services would tie up things to fight one. He gathered a hand full and handed it to Jafaa then gathered more and lit them both with a cigarette lighter.

Nubobo pointed, " quickly! Draw a line of fire. It will stop them!"

The fire caught at the dry brush and began to march away from them. With a couple of minutes it was roaring.

" Come. Now we can escape," Nubobo said.

Only he knew about the boat hidden at an old dock at the edge of the marsh. It was a mile away but the Americans would be facing a wall of fire and have to stop. By the time helicopters were called in they would be gone. So many people would be busy fighting the fire, they would be far gone by the time it was in hand or out. It would be easy to go down the coast and then to Cuba. From there they could fly back to Sudan or anywhere else and sell the secrets they had stolen. It had taken a year for Jafaa to worm his way through the defensive systems. It was worth the wait. They had some data that would sell for at least a million U.S. Dollars to the Arab nations and that was only some of what they stolen.

" Hurry! Its not very far now," Nubobo said, "run you over-educated fool."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Krystel ran hard and fast. The two men had to at least have over three to five hundred meters head-start. Why had they went toward the marsh though. Matt was huffing and puffing behind her, making her angrier. If he hadn't shown up she'd have already bagged those two. Now she was having to chase them down. Suddenly an acrid smell drifted toward her. She pulled up behind a tree.

"Thank god. I haven't run like this in a time. Are we close," Matt asked breathing hard.

Krystel glared at him, "shut up! Something's wrong."

They heard a crackling in the distance.

"Is that them running through the bush," Matt whispered.

Krystel looked intently then shook her head, "no. Shit! Smoke. Those fucks started a wildfire!"

Matt looked up, "they didn't!"

Krystel had unzipped the high collar of her battlesuit and was tucking her hair down the back then zipped it back up.

"The bastards did it to stop us. It won't work. Turn back or stay with me. If you come with me then you stay ON my six. Don't deviate. If you fall behind I won't come back. If you go down you'll burn to death. Choose," Krystel said intently.

Matt nodded, "with you."

Krystel turned and bolted. Within seconds the flames were visible and she slowed down. He could hear her repeating something like a mantra to herself.

"See the fire not the flames. The fire; not the flames," Krystel repeated and saw a gap open before her and she charged through.

"YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY," Matt shouted following behind her in direct path.

He ran directly behind her as she bounded and leapt. Almost as if by magic holes in the fire opened for her to go through. She jumped over a log and dove under a leaning palmetto in flames. He followed throwing all caution to the winds. A moment later he understood how she was doing it. By running in front she was feeling the actual air currents and tell which way the flames would move. Unless he stayed practically in her boot prints he could catch fire himself. That was the spur he needed to close in on her. Two minutes later they both burst out of the flames and continued after their quarry. A minute later they both saw the two men running along the bank of a waterway. Krystel angled to race ahead and Matt followed. A large clump of Pampas grass concealed their approach and that was when they saw what the men were heading for. a boat tied up to a rundown dock next to a collapsed shack.

Matt watched as she didn't break stride and aimed and triggered off a long burst. The front man fell. Krystel the slid to a stop swinging the rifle back to the trailing man who had froze. She sent another burst and he dropped. Krystel started jogging toward the front man. He had struggled to his feet and limped back to the other and yanked the laptop case from him. The second man was reaching out for help but was abandoned. Matt sighted down his slide and the man's hand went down. Krystel triggered off another burst as the lead man reached the dock and he went down again. He began to try to crawl.

He looked up when a pair tall black boots stepped into view ahead of him.

He smiled and asked in a heavy accent, "C.I.A.?"

Krystel drew the pistol from low on her right thigh and thumbed the hammer back.

"See the world and the evil in it," She pulled the trigger twice sending the rounds into his head.

Matt's eyes were like dinner plates as she turned to face him, "I see the world; less evil in it."

"I get that," Matt said quickly, "I hope you never see any again."

Krystel picked up the case, "talk fast. I'm still pissed these two had to be fucking chased!"

Matt explained on the way back. By the time the arrived at the cars she understood.

"I'll solve your little problem. Only because it came off our end. That doesn't excuse you," Krystel said angrily.

Her phone rang and she answered it. It was Kimberly calling to tell her she'd found out who Matt was. He had told the truth about being Australian Intelligence. Kimberly advised her NOT to shoot him but definitely send him home with a message from Dannigan.

She set up the laptop then her own. In a few minutes she broke through the encryption and found what she wanted. They had stolen Australian coordination files and sold them to a buyer in Malaysia. The information on the buyer was still on the laptop. She wrote it down and held it out.

"Catch a plane," Krystel said, "you got twenty-four hours."

"I'll be on a flight," Matt said and left.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Matt strode through the Tampa airport the next afternoon. The Colonel was pissed but bought his story of the offer from a company on the west coast. He only bought it because he called and verified. The company was a front so they were quick to confirm. He'd travel to LAX under the Matt Collins identity and meet a hand-off for his real passport and tickets to Sydney under his own name. He stopped to look up at the flight listings. His would start boarding any minute. That's when he caught the scent. Her scent. he turned around.

"Making sure I'm gone by sundown Sheriff," Matt asked in his real accent.

Krystel asked, "Will I have to; Agent Matthew Eric Connelly?"

Matt chuckled, "why'm I not surprised you know who I am?"

"Because you shouldn't," Krystel replied blandly.

"Thanks for solvin' our problem," Matt said.

Krystel looked at him intently, "this is a one time thing. Next time ask for help politely. Otherwise someone may take things personally."

"So what do I call you," Matt asked, "certainly not Karen."

An announcement came over the address system.

Krystel nodded to the gate, "that would be you Matthew. Enjoy your flight."

Matt looked over to the line of people forming, "Oh I have a minute two. Perhaps a goodbye."

He was about to say 'kiss' and had turned back to see he was now alone. She was nowhere in sight. He laughed and shook his head turning to the gate and took his place in line. Twenty minutes later the plane took off. As soon as he got home and settled his report he'd hit his favorite steak house. The idea of hitting a club only lasted for a minute. A casual hook up lost appeal. As he drifted off to sleep he smiled, dreaming of a beautiful and deadly blonde enigma. The scent of her perfume would stay in his mind forever.

 
 
 
 
 
 

Krystel cameos in LKM-42

 

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.

 

---

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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.

 

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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.

 

---

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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.

 

The Chrysalis Project: Steel Dove - Doves and Swords   TIffanyis off to Japan by request.   Truly on her own now, but the   past rears it's ugly head.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

---

 

 
 
 

Chapter 1

Tiffany stood on the balcony overlooking the beach. She was thinking about Lyssa, who's place as the plain-sight operator, she would soon take. Lyssa was a mistress of warfare. Both physical and of the mind. Not long after Tiffany had completed Special Warfare school she'd heard whispers. Rumors of an elite platoon within the world famous Army Counter-Terror group. Special Operational Detachment-Delta, known the world over as Delta Force, were the cream of the Army's crop. Only those in Special Forces heard those whispers. Hidden deep within Delta was a unit; smaller than a standard platoon. Some mused that it was only an A-Team; fourteen men including the two officers. The most elite and secret unit in the world. The deadliest. No confirmations about its existence; not even from Delta members themselves. If Tiffany had never met Lyssa, she would never know they were real.

The DemonWraiths. A military unit so well trained, they took warfare to new levels and dimensions yet still believed to be a myth. Military urban legend. They fought not only in reality with guns, knives, explosives and bare-handed but also in minds. Not merely psychological tactics but psionic. Projecting their very thoughts elsewhere. It had become widely known about the Central Intelligence Agency's remote viewer project. Clairvoyants working to gather intelligence from miles away, sometimes on the other side of the world. Even the KGB had a program like it back during the Cold-War days. What people didn't know was after the program had shut down, the Department of Defense, National Security Agency and Development and Research Projects Agency picked up that ball where the CIA left it. Picked it up and went farther that ever. Hints by Lyssa were that at least two within the platoon had higher mental abilities. Telepathic of some nature was insinuated.

Furthermore, Delta's in general were resistant to hypnosis. DemonWraiths had been hardened against it, with counter-measures. Cataclysmic Memory Backlash, Lyssa explained, was the full and total immediate recall of a person's entire life. She'd also implied the experience was far from pleasant. People, places, events. even the sounds, smells and feelings; as if it had happened an instant before. Life is completely relived in seconds and then the Kill-Command hit. Even if hypnosis was successful it would only last for a moment before the penalty was inflicted. The subject would never stop trying to kill whomever had been responsible.

Tiffany knew for certain that Lyssa had used advanced psy-warfare on Kimberly post-mission once. Kimberly still had the occasional nightmare, but it was LoneStar and Mindy that suffered night-terrors. If Lyssa and Rodrick suffered stress, nobody knew. Krystel was becoming a story all on her own. Though she had no problem sending Shawna a mission packet, sending Tiffany a packet was another matter altogether. According to Lyssa during the debrief Krystel had been almost remorseful sending Tiffany a packet. Tiffany herself had no reservations about it. She understood the purpose. Assassination or espionage didn't matter, she was capable of both. Being a beautiful model and graceful ballerina was icing on the cake as far as she was concerned. She was able to travel all over the world, though some places were better than others. Rubbing elbows with high echelon, sometimes to remove later on. Having fun, even if duty interrupted it.

The ringing of her phone stopped that thought. An international ID prompted her to answer.

A woman's voice greeted her."Gombawa Tiffany-san. I hope I do not wake you?"

Tiffany replied in flawless Japanese. "Not at all. How may I help you?"

The woman continued in Japanese. "My name is Yuki, assistant to Aki Tomiko-sama. May I connect you please?"

"Certainly Yuki-san, please do." Tiffany said graciously.

A moment later a more mature voice spoke. "Tiffany-san, I am Aki. Our most honored friend referred me to you. Lyssa-san said you may have some time available. Would you be able to come to Japan for my runway show?"

Tiffany smiled. "Lyssa is wonderfully kind. I'd be happy to be part of your show, Aki-sama. I've seen your designs, they're exquisite."

Aki replied warmly. "You honor me with your compliment Tiffany-san. I'll have have your ticket waiting for you with the details to your email."

Tiffany chuckled. "I look forward to it Aki-sama."

As they disconnected Tiffany noticed the text message. It was from Lyssa.
Enjoy Tokyo. Stay at Jade Lotus. L.

Tiffany laughed. she had no doubt that if she checked, there would be a reservation made for her already. Access to Lyssa's houses all over the world was limited. Tiffany didn't have a problem with that, in time she'd have her own network of safe-houses. Curious now, she went online and searched. No listings for Jade Lotus in any of the travel services. Ten minutes after a more advanced search turned up the name and phone number but that was all.

Tiffany frowned as she thought then laughed to herself. If Lyssa suggested it, then it would be in her private database. Lyssa had a special database; keeping files on hotels, restaurants, realtors, shopping, dance and photography studios, local models, modeling agencies, make-up artists and hair stylists. Even nightclubs were kept track of in the extensive files. She ran the name and there it was. A twenty room hotel in the heart of Tokyo's garden district. very exclusive. The only way one could stay there the first time was if a previous guest made the reservation. After that there were no problems.

A combination of boutique hotel and fortified garrison. Security was state of the art and top of the line. Completely dedicated. All the latest bells and whistles, overseen by former Japanese Army and Naval special forces. The Hagakure ninja clan. Hagakure were unique. Absolutely no concern for anyone or anything outside what was their own. Or considered theirs. The hotel was totally self-sufficient. Staffed by Hagakure, they had the usual; desk clerks, maids, maintenance and security. Then they went beyond. Chefs, massage, cosmetologists and professional geisha.

Professional Geisha were traditional event hostesses, that was all contrary to western belief. There were even male and female companions, of both persuasions. If the guest could afford it, very few things were out of the question. Even the food coming in was controlled; farms and fisherman of the clan. The look of the hotel was traditional, but its construction was anything but. Paper walls were actually a special composite to counter eavesdropping. All doors and windows served the same function. No outsider would ever know who were guests. Entrances and exits were concealed, even from the guests. They were met and brought in. After registering a guest could opt to be chaperoned during their stay or be given a special code to a concealed, but highly controlled gate at a nearby Autovend.

Autovends were restaurants serviced by vending machine food. Highly popular in Japan, especially in Tokyo. There was no Michelin rating for Jade Lotus but Lyssa gave it an excellent notation. The best thing, they only accepted payment by wire transfer. Tiffany closed out the search. She smiled as she went to bed, it would be interesting.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Aki looked to Yuki. "Lyssa-san's student will work well for the show."

Yuki looked back, skeptical. "She is an unknown. How can you be sure of her?"

Aki laughed. "Lyssa-san did not have to say the words for me to know that Tiffany is her protege. Lyssa-san married and has children. Her life is complete and balanced. Now she has chosen her successor until her children find their own way."

"Would not one follow their father and the other their mother?" Yuki asked confused.

The designer shook her head. "Not all westerners groom their children for legacy as we do. Most let their children decide their own future. I had been allowed to. My father worked in a textile factory. My mother; a seamstress. They never imagined I would go on to be this. If you ask them, they would give the impression I'd conquered the fashion world all by myself."

They both laughed.

"If Lyssa-san sends Tiffany-san in her own place. That, in itself, says everything. Lyssa-san may be notorious for favors, but that's mostly for ballet. She is now to become famous for stepping back and I suspect for bringing new people, like Tiffany-san, instead of doing everything herself. Concentrating more on her life as a wife and mother. Those things missing before, she now has. I believe she will dedicate herself as she had with everything else. With all that she is." Aki stated insightfully.

Yuki nodded, she'd heard several stories of Lyssa Kordenay-Mason. If half were true, she was a woman to be highly respected. Her name went with equal measures of admiration and fear. A well dressed man with two very intimidating escorts caught her attention. She didn't need to see carefully concealed tattoos to know whom, or rather what, they were. Only Yakuza could stir such feelings of dread without even acknowledging someone's presence. Aki silently nodded for her to leave. Yuki was glad to do so, closing the doors behind her. Just before they clicked she heard a man's voice.

Strong and clear with a hint of malice he said. "So Aki-san. I was very interested to hear you now have Men'swear to your line this year."

Yuki shivered thinking the voice brought images of a sword dipped in poison.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Lyssa stepped into the Command Center. "What is it Krystel?"

"Pacific chatter. Serious uptick from the Philippines." Krystel informed her.

"Philippines? Damn. That bunch finally regrouped. Their infra-structure had been crippled a while back." Lyssa commented.

Maria asked. "You know these people personally?"

Krystel pulled up several reports. "Lyssa did off the chart damage Ma'am, but they have re-organized. Re-organized and re-prioritized. The name Takagami comes up."

Lyssa frowned. "Rings bells, but why?"

Krystel looked puzzled. "What kind of bells?"

"The 'we're about to be over our heads in seriously bad fucking juju' bells. Get LoneStar. Have him prep the Gulfstream. I need to head for Tokyo. Rodrick and Pete will be back tonight. Let the Major know." Lyssa instructed then left.

Krystel called out grabbing the radio. "Aye aye Ma'am."

"Don't you find it odd. Lyssa leaving on whim like that?" Maria asked.

Kimberly shook her head. "No Ma'am. Lyssa and that terrorist group go way back. Two cells and an assault group have been wiped out thanks to her. Looks like somebody finally got up the nerve to lead them again. Not for long."

An hour later the Jet took off.

---

---

Chapter 2

Tiffany immediately sized up the well suited young man in front of her.

"Good afternoon Miss Davareaux." He greeted her in perfect English with a slight bow. "I am Takashi. I am to ensure your comfortable arrival to the Hotel."

Tiffany waited the two seconds then smiled. "I'm very honored at the thoughtfulness. Such a capable gentleman looking after me. I know I'm in great care."

She curtsied gracefully. Takashi quickly suppressed the smile of appreciation then took her suitcase and led her out to a black sedan. An hour's ride took them through the city then the windows darkened and the partition closed. Ten minutes later, the back door opened and Takashi held out his hand which she lightly took stepping out. She followed him to a foyer where a woman in traditional kimono waited and bowed to her.

"Welcome Tiffany-sama. This way please." She said after Tiffany returned her bow.

Tiffany curtsied. "Thank you very much."

The woman led her up three flights of stairs then down a hall. At a door she stopped and slid it open, bowing.

"He is waiting on the balcony for you." The woman stated then closed the door after Tiffany entered.

Puzzled at the statement Tiffany stepped from her pumps and went further inside. Three steps in, a floorboard creaked. She froze then glared with hostility at the ancient trick. Uguisubari. Nightingale flooring, floors designed to make a chirping sound when walked upon. Security that went beyond analog. Sneakier than tin cans on a string and a thousand times more effective. Unless one was taught the technique. Tiffany stepped back then angled almost forty-five degrees right and walked forward. She red-lined her memory. In her mind she saw Lyssa walking a pattern. Two forward then a step left then repeat until she reached the balcony.

An elderly man sat at a low table set with tea poured for two. Tiffany silently closed to three paces, knelt and bowed.

"Come young one. Sit with an old man, before the tea is no longer worth drinking." He said in a strong voice.

Tiffany rose gracefully to walk lightly over and sat formally. Wrinkled, but sharp eyes regarded her intently as he smiled.

"Beauty. Grace. Charm. Lyssa-san has chosen and trained well, the one to take her place." the old man said in approval.

Tiffany bowed again. "I am honored to be invited to your table; a humble dancer and model."

The old man chuckled. "Still some training left for you then. Lyssa-san is the better liar."

Tiffany kept her expression stony.

"You thought I would not know the presence of another warrior? I am Yoshida Hagakure, you do understand what that does mean?" He asked rhetorically.

Tiffany never wavered. "You are the lord of this honored family and of this noble house, Hagakure-sama."

The old shinobi smiled. "I see Takashi was indeed right. If only half-measure of your charm on me were to be turned on my other grandsons, I would have to confine them to a monastery far away during your stay."

Tiffany sensed he was more amused than anything else, so she went with it. "Grand-Master Yoshida. Is it wrong for a girl; to be impressed and therefore appreciative, being attended by such great and honorable men?" She even managed a slight blush.

Yoshida laughed fully. "I may have to lock myself away with the boys or risk falling victim to you and suffer a wife's wrath."

An elderly woman spoke, catching Tiffany by surprise. "Indeed. Our golden-haired adopted granddaughter has taught her well."

Tiffany was very impressed with the old woman, for sneaking in.

"I assure you, My Lady. My true hope is, but to gain enough favor for an extra dessert. Or two." Tiffany playfully bantered.

"So young one. What has brought you to us from so far away?" Yoshida asked.

Tiffany had no reason to lie."A friend of Lyssa. She invited me to walk her runway show at Lyssa's recommendation. I'm greatly honored, her designs are very beautiful. Lyssa wanted to make sure I would well looked after while visiting Tokyo."

The old woman nodded. "Then as our Lyssa-san has chosen you, so shall we. Our second golden haired adopted granddaughter, Tiffany-chan. So as she does, you too, will call us grandfather and grandmother. Ojii-sama, Bachan."

Tiffany bowed. "I am greatly honored to be welcomed into such a great and noble family, Bachan."

Tamaki scolded kindly. "Since the tea has been forgotten, then perhaps we should send you to your room. Along the way Tiffany-chan, perhaps proper manners will be remembered."

Tiffany moved like lightning to offer assistance to the woman, as she gained her feet. "Without doubt, Bachan, I'll be well schooled in no time." She bowed again then kissed Yoshida's cheek. "A pleasant afternoon to you, Jii-sama."

He chuckled as he shooed her off. "Away child. Or she'll forbid dessert for the whole of the household while you visit."

Tiffany retrieved her shoes at the door and held her arm out for Tamaki to hold, knowing fully she needed no real help, as they walked back down the hall.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Aki taped the last of the twenty gift boxes. Inside was a men's suit. The size was specific, though the color and style was random. A small brick of ecstasy tablets were nestled inside as well. Years ago, Aki had a bad year and needed to borrow money. Money that had been fully repaid, as per the agreement, plus a bonus to ensure conclusion of that deal. Aki had thought that if she dealt directly with the Oyabun, all terms would be met and final. This new Under-Boss was something unforeseen. Somehow he knew there had been a deal, but refused to acknowledge its finalization. An hour later her office doors opened unannounced. Tetsuo Makagi casually strolled in, flanked by three musclemen.

"So Aki. You have my, gifts, ready?" He asked sarcastically.

Aki worked very hard to keep fear from her voice and eyes. "they're ready. An invoice here; did you want to put this on a credit card or pay cash?"

Tetsuo laughed after a moment. "That's amusing Aki. I like that. It goes toward your debt."

Aki gave him a flat look. "What debt?"

Tetsuo said casually. "The debt from twelve years ago."

Aki glared at him. "First; such debt was a private matter between Oyabun Makagi and myself. You dishonor him by even knowing about it. Secondly: That matter was completely settled according to the agreement. His words, not mine."

Tetsuo backhanded her then seized her by the throat. "I SAY you have debt and I will COLLECT as I see fit!"

His men took the boxes and began walking out.

"After your show, I'll be having a party. All your girls will do, for entertainment." He smiled malevolently.

Aki stood up. "I have models. Not whores!"

He drew his fist back to strike again, then stopped. Aki stood still, focusing on him. As if she wanted to be hit. Mentally he laughed then punched her.

Aki took a minute to compose herself then said coldly. "Entertainment can be found in Shinjuku. Speak to your Oyabun about it."

"You'll provide it Aki." He said then walked out.

At the outer office doors they almost ran into a blonde, disconnecting a cellphone call, reaching for the door. Several moments they stood looking at each other.

"If you keep pretending to be a door; you won't like my idea of 'turning a knob'." She said in English.

One of them understood and shifted uncomfortably.

Tetsuo smiled and said in Japanese. "Too bad, gaijin, you have no idea what I say. I would rip the clothes from you and have you screaming as I take you. Even down in the street below, no one would look, much less help you. Stupid gaijin slut."

She gave him a charming smile then grabbed his groin viciously, curling her fingers under and twisting.

"I may have left my tweezers and magnifying glass behind, but I think I can find something down there, if I REALLY take the time. Now; Open, SAYS ME. Or not even Ali Baba and his forty thieves will find your precious jewels." She snarled.

Tetsuo shuffled to the side with fury all over his face.

Tiffany applied more pressure. "Since you brought up stupidity. Anymore out of you and I may be inclined to take your head off and shove it up HIS ass, to be delivered to somebody with brains."

The men backed away slightly.

"In old times, poor families would sometimes castrate one of their sons and sell him to a choir. Provoke me again, you asshole, and I'll find you a new career path; in the music industry. Got it?" Tiffany hissed.

When he didn't answer, she pulled slowly and he nodded. Tiffany released him, but stood her ground in the doorway.

"Find a place to be. Or I'll find one for you." She said angrily.

He backed off then nodded to his men following them out. Tiffany stalked to the doors of Aki's office and walked in. What she saw made her even angrier. Aki saw the fury on Tiffany's face and tried not to cringe away.

"Want to tell me about dickhead and the three idiots?" Tiffany asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Aki looked with fear. "Tiffany-san, please. They're Yakuza."

Tiffany glared back and replied sarcastically. "No shit, really? Sherlock fucking Hemlock rides again."

"Please Tiffany-san, I'm trying to protect you all from them." Aki pleaded.

Tiffany was having none of it though. "I take care of myself. Now who do these assholes work for?"

Aki relented. "Makagi. Matsu Makagi. Tetsuo is his only nephew."

Tiffany turned heading for the door. "I got this, Aki."

Before Aki could protest again Tiffany was out the door.

As she settled angrily into the car, the driver Ryu asked. "Nee-san, what has upset you?"

Tiffany sighed looking out the window. "So much for a fun, relaxing time in Tokyo. Four assholes to deal with, no need for concern."

He glanced back with the mirror. "The Makagi crew that came out shortly before you did? Carrying several boxes?"

"Now why am I not surprised you knew who they were?" Tiffany commented, almost amused.

Ryu smirked in the mirror. " Really, Nee-san?"

"Ok. So what can you tell me about them?" she asked.

Ryu frowned. "Better to ask Jii-sama. Since Bachan has insisted you join them for dinner tonight, you'll have the chance."

Nothing more needed to be said, Ryu had turned the car into the hidden tunnel to the garage. Tiffany was allowed to know its location and have her own personal entrance code to it.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Lyssa wasn't concerned Takashi had seen her in the private terminal. Either there to collect a guest or see them off, those were his primary duties. A discreet shake of her head told him to stay back. Hopefully that subtle signal conveyed what she meant. She didn't want to be noted in the city. She wanted a quick in and out. LoneStar had stayed with the plane, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Lyssa made it to her house and disarmed her security then began her check out of equipment. The sun had begun to set.

---

---

Chapter 3

"You are positive Takashi?" Yoshida asked.

Takashi nodded. "Without doubt, Jii-sama. It was Lyssa-san and she does NOT wish it known she is here."

The Shinobi Master turned to his other grandson. "Tiffany-chan made no mention of Lyssa-chan coming?"

Ryu shook his head. "No, Jii-sama. She was, however, very pre-occupied about the presence of the Makagi men. Tetsuo-san and his usual crew. More accurately, she was angry. They may have insulted her, personally."

Yoshida sat silently then finally spoke. "First I will see to Tiffany-chan, as she is the more convenient. After dinner, I will go see Lyssa-chan at her house. Ryu, have Enji prepare to drive me. Until determined otherwise, we will not reveal Lyssa-chan's presence to Tiffany-chan."

Both grandsons bowed then left. An hour later Tamaki entered with Tiffany in tow, both laughing. They enjoyed dinner and toward the end Tamaki teased Tiffany.

"It's good you did not forget your table manners, this time, child." Tamaki said in approval.

"Your disappointment schooled me well, Bachan. I hope not to warrant remedial lessons again." Tiffany replied, looking chastised.

Yoshida chuckled. "I believe the threat to her beloved dessert was taken to heart."

Tiffany winked. "A girl's charm requires all the sweetness she can get."

They all laughed.

"I do wonder though; Perhaps your charms may attract attention of some would not be suitable. I sense a heaviness about you Tiffany-chan. Perhaps our years may be of guidance." Yoshida said sagely.

Tiffany looked deep in thought then said. "The friend, of Lyssa and myself. She's being harrassed. This upsets me, of course. As a friend should, I want to help her. Unfortunately, the ones doing the harrassment are of the Makagi clan. I believe if I were to speak to Oyabun Makagi directly, he may be persuaded to intervene."

Tamaki said warmly. "A heart as golden as your hair, Tiffany-chan."

Yoshida added. "It is noble, child, wanting to help your friend. Matsu Makagi-sama? I know of him, he takes his honor very seriously."

"He would be greatly upset if say; one of his own were to violate and exploit a deal he made and finalized years ago?" Tiffany mused.

Yoshida now understood. "Well, that would be something all to itself. Yes, I think so. How it is presented will, of course, matter greatly in this. I would suggest, a 'chance encounter'. You and your friend 'accidentally being in the same place at the same time'. If you understand my meaning."

Tiffany smiled. " Serendipity. I like that idea, Jii-sama."

He chuckled. "Very few know, that everyday Matsu Takagi-sama meets with an old family friend at a garden. Like the Lords of Old; they walk and talk. About an hour, from one until two. The garden belongs to a Shinto shrine, what you westerners would call a neutral ground. Perhaps, with your encouragement, your friend may seek the help she needs. Properly."

Tiffany smiled at the simplicity, yet effectiveness, of the plan. "Of course Jii-sama. Your wisdom is a gift I thank you for."

The meal being finished, Yoshida rose. "I have a matter to attend to. I'm confident you will keep each other entertained."

They both smiled and bowed as he left. Down at the car the old man settled in.

"Take me to Yotsuya, Shinjuku, Enji. Lyssa-chan's house there." Yoshida ordered.

The young man nodded curtly and drove.

A forty-five minute ride later the car stopped at a corner.

"We are at the street for Lyssa-san's house, Jii-sama." Enji said quietly then bolted to open the door for him.

"Stay here, Enji. Lyssa-chan may not take well, an unexpected and unannounced visit." He warned.

Enji bowed curtly then got back behind the wheel to wait as Yoshida walked casually down the sidewalk then up to the front door of a house. Carefully he knocked.

"Who calls?" Lyssa asked from inside.

Yoshida answered with a chuckle. "One who is curious, as to why his adopted granddaughter would hide from him?"

The door opened and Lyssa stood aside to allow him in. The Shinobi grand-master stepped inside and followed her to the main room and sat opposite her.

"No disrespect is intended, Jii-sama. I'm just not here." Lyssa laughed.

The old man laughed as well. "And I am simply out for a night-time stroll."

Lyssa poured tea for him then herself and asked. "The Takagami clan, Jii-sama."

Yoshida frowned. " Ozaki Takagami-san. Very traditional. They are what you would call an off-shoot or splinter clan. Years ago; his own daughter disgraced him, but the clan they were in saw no dishonor and its lord refused to take action. In a rage, Takagami-san took his remaining bloodline from that clan. The daughter was killed, not long ago, I hear. They are very much like ourselves, neither wanting or needing much contact from outsiders. The strange part is, Takagami-san is not angry at the killer of his daughter. In fact, he feels he owes debt to whomever it was. In his eyes, she became an abomination."

Lyssa mulled that over. "Honor, before all things."

Yoshida nodded. "In simple words; yes. That is why he has cut off all contact with the Mirumoto clan."

"If someone were to seek him out. Gain teachings in The Way and use them, dishonorably?" She pressed.

Yoshida shook his head. "Takagami-san would not live with shame again. Neither would the off-shoot clan."

"Would Takagami see a warning in that regard favorably?" Lyssa asked.

"There must be NO uncertainty. Takagami-san is very shrewd. He takes nothing at face value and is not lenient." The old man replied.

"Then I should take a meeting with him." Lyssa said. "Where can he be found, Jii-sama?"

Yoshida smiled. "Interestingly enough, I know. Every afternoon, from one until two, he visits a Shinto garden with an old friend. I'm sure you need no explanation of the discussions between a shinobi and a Yakuza that grew up together. It is there you will find him, Lyssa-chan."

Lyssa bowed. "I thank you for your knowledge, Jii-sama. And the answer to your question is, no. If Tiffany does not know I'm here, the better."

"Then I suggest that you be at your BEST there, Lyssa-chan." He smiled standing up. "Lyssa-chan. You sent a sword to me for safekeeping. I understand it belongs to Takagami. The sword of Poisoned Souls. He is going to want it back if he suspects you are the one who killed her. Goodnight, grandchild."

Yoshida left without another word.

---

---

CHAPTER 4

"I've been to this garden before Tiffany-san, I just don't see why we should today." Aki protested.

Tiffany reached out and cradled a clutch of cherry blossoms and inhaled deeply. "Aki-san, you're all worked up. Stressed out. To be ready for the show, you need to chill. Put everything from your mind, focus on the now and the beauty before us. Appreciate it for what it is. A beautiful day, stunning colors. I'll be in Moscow soon. There'll be no flowers, no bright shining sun on a pretty day to enjoy. Not like this."

Aki shrugged. "True. I guess you're right. There are no gardens like this in Moscow. Shinti was designed by a very famous samurai. He was very revered."

Tiffany stepped to the center of the pathway and twirled. "Its SO beautiful Aki!"

She hoped the carefree act was working on Aki. Dancing and twirling on the walkway served a real purpose; seeing without appearing to be looking. She now understood the repetitive phrase Lyssa hammered into her.
Mind of soldier, heart of artist, soul of warrior. Beautiful lethality; Deadly grace.

Tiffany noticed her pirouette had garnered attention from elsewhere, the undivided attention of two men. One in a current cut business suit, the other in more traditional attire. She kept her steps light and quick, as they drew closer then abruptly stopped in pose, as if swept back by wind. The two men applauded, so she curtsied deeply.

"Thank you! Thank you gentlemen!" she said appreciatively with a smile.

The man in the suit spoke first. "In all my years; I don't remember the gardens blessed with such graceful beauty. A true delight."

The other man affirmed. "Nor I, old friend. I believe we should talk to the caretakers, about it becoming more frequent. An attractive addition I'd say."

"The colors are so beautiful! I couldn't help feeling like the hummingbirds. This way and that, never enough time to enjoy each one!" Tiffany chattered enthusiastically as she twirled once more.

Both men chuckled at her exuberance.

"I was just telling my friend, Aki-san, that time should be taken to appreciate beauty when you have it around you." Tiffany said gesturing. "She works so hard. A designer. You should meet her. Aki! Aki please come over here and meet these nice gentlemen."

The suited man looked over. "Aki-san? Is that you, its been quite some time. Years."

Tiffany ignored the look of shock from Aki. "Please Aki. These are kind gentlemen."

The suited man asked. "You've been disrespected? Recently?"

Tiffany let some of her anger flare in her eyes. "VERY much so, Sir! A young man was so brutish to us! He was horrible to Aki and I; he treated me as if I were a tramp. A common walker of the streets!"

Slowly the suited man took the over-sized sunglasses from Aki, to reveal the blackened eye.

"Who did this?" he asked with tightly reined anger.

"I didn't get his whole name, but I did hear him called Tetsuo-sama." Tiffany said then described him perfectly.

"Tetsuo Makagi-san?" he asked pointedly to Aki.

On the verge of tears she nodded the answer.

"Poor Aki, she's so sweet and kind. This has upset her so much, it's affected her work. Her new men's wear line is very handsome, but how can she concentrate on the show, all distraught like this?" Tiffany said sadly putting her arm around Aki's shoulders.

She considered elaborating more, but decided against it. Better to not oversell.

"I believe we may be able to convince young Makagi that his interests should be directed, elsewhere." The man in traditional robes offered.

Tiffany looked up, with hope shining. "oh could you? Really?" Tiffany smiled, but then looked alarmed. "What if he finds out? Oh, he'd be so angry with us."

"Put Makagi-kun from your minds. I assure you, he will not be a problem for you anymore." The suited man said firmly and nodded.

Tiffany smiled for them again. "Thank you so much. Please, come to the show! I know you'll see something you like."

The men smiled at them then continued their walk down the path.

After they turned a bend, Aki rounded on Tiffany. "You tricked me Tiffany-san."

Tiffany gave her a puzzled look. "Me? Tricked? What do you mean; tricked?"

Aki glared. "You knew who they were. Knew they would be here. You wanted me to come, because they would be here and we'd meet them."

Tiffany tilted her head. "Were you not being exploited? Wasn't he trying to shame and humiliate you and the rest of us? Wouldn't such a thing bring dishonor to the man you had an honorable deal with? Shouldn't he be aware of a problem and want to deal with it? His way, before it gets out of hand?"

"Yes." Aki muttered.

Tiffany continued. "Was it not THEIR determination that he is a problem, and they should deal with him?"

"Yes." Aki said. "I heard them."

Tiffany cut her off. "Then it's Tetsuo that has been tricked, Aki. Tetsuo and he did it to himself."

"Tiffany, I am afraid." Aki admitted.

Tiffany patted her back, then used an over-exaggerated Southern drawl. "Nonsense M'dear. Why, I've ALWAYS relied upon the kindness o' strangers. And since WE are so KIND; let's go find somebody STRANGER!"

Aki finally sputtered with laughter and joined Tiffany as they walked back.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Ozaki Takagami bid Matsu Makagi good day and continued through the garden. A blonde woman stood at the edge of a small terrace overlooking a pond filled with lotus and koi. He got the very distinct feeling she was waiting for him.

He walked to the railing. "The garden has unprecedented beauty today."

Lyssa noted his English was perfect and without accent, but replied in Japanese.

"Great surprises can be found before one's very eyes. Soke Takagami." She said.

The fact she spoke Japanese as if a life-long local didn't impress him, neither did that she knew who he was. What did, was her exact formality. Soke, not Shidoshi. One not intimate with the world of ninjitsu would mistakenly addressed him as Shidoshi, especially a Westerner such as she. The Shinobi now understood, this was a woman not to be underestimated in any fashion.

"Why do I feel that all the usual pleasantries, are about to be left by the wayside?" He mused aloud.

Lyssa stated. "Men of honor and action have always preferred truth over platitudes."

Ozaki kept his look of deep thought. "At what price; this truth?"

Lyssa turned taking off her pink-lens sunglasses. "The price is only there, if you care nothing for your honor anymore and choose to ignore it."

Takagami dropped all pretense and glared. "My honor; almost destroyed, by my very own daughter. Along with the clan we came from. Without doubt, she now resides in the darkest corner of Hell, as she should. My only hope now; is that Ginzo Mirumoto will too!"

Lyssa suppressed the urge to wince at the name. "Honor may be redeemed. If you want it." Lyssa said.

Ozaki Takagami waited silently.

"A group of terrorists, from the Philippines, are trying to seek you out. They would defile The Way. Use your teachings to commit atrocities." Lyssa informed him.

"Destroy them. That is what you want of me." Ozaki said with certainty. "Do your dirty work, for you."

Lyssa snorted then began to laugh. Takagami was confused. She was laughing, as if he had told her the best joke ever heard.

Finally Lyssa composed herself. "Now why should I bargain, coax or cajole with someone; when there are already those would do so. Not only with enthusiasm, but as a sense of duty. All I need, is where they hide."

Lyssa turned sliding the glasses back on and took two steps.

"You seem to be well informed. About many things." Takagami stated.

Lyssa stopped. "I hear things, yes."

Takagami turned to face her. "What if, I were to seek a bargain?"

Lyssa faced him taking the glasses off again. "That would depend upon your terms."

"My daughter fought a great opponent. An opponent that granted her a death far more honorable than she deserved. Do not misunderstand. It is not that one I seek. Not even the identity. What I seek, is the sword my daughter carried. I require that blade for redeeming my honor, avenging myself upon the one who made her the abomination she became." Ozaki stated. "For that; the Takagami will be indebted with gratitude. Two favors to be granted."

Lyssa's eyes never wavered. "arrangements will be made. The sword will be in your possession within the next thirty-six hours."

Takagami nodded. Lyssa turned and left. The sword in question, she had already sent back to Japan and now sat in hidden at the Jade Lotus.

Takagami turned back to the pond and looked deep into the water. "The answer, finally. It was a true warrior that ended her shame. And I have just met her."

---

---

CHAPTER 5

The show had gone well. Tiffany made her own mark; stealing the limelight and strategically disappearing, taking Aki to a hiding place outside the city. Word had gotten back to her, that Tetsuo Makagi was beyond furious. Oyabun Matsu Makagi had not only forbidden any contact, from any member of the clan, with Aki but himself. He had also forced Tetsuo to reimburse Aki, out of his own pocket, for the merchandise he'd extorted. For good measure; Tetsuo's men were assigned to other under-bosses with orders never to be in contact with Tetsuo.

Tiffany knew he'd go gunning for Aki so she waited, watching for him to show up at Aki's condo. Tiffany's patience and perceptiveness paid off, but the satisfaction was short lived. Apparently Matsu Makagi thought along those same lines; he'd assigned a tail-car to follow Tetsuo. Four in the car, none looked thrilled. Tiffany read their lips. They were reporting his activity and it seemed everybody was pissed off. Tiffany followed him as he left, but carefully to avoid being detected by the tail car. He visited a mistress outside Shinjuku, reputed to be a masochist. For lack of better terminology, he had an extensive workout then left.

After a few blocks, it seemed he was heading back to his own home. Tiffany bailed off and rushed to arrive first. It took only a minute to gain entry, the lack of an alarm surprised her til she thought about something Maria had said once. Nobody would dare break into one of her houses, everyone knew she was Mafiosi. Consequently; who would break into a known Yakuza residence, besides herself? A quick check of surveillance revealed two audio bugs, she relocated them into a box deep inside a cabinet and turned off certain breakers that were well marked. Tiffany waited silently, until the sound of the locks being turned.

Tetsuo unlocked the door and strode in, angrily tossing the key onto a table. That bitch Aki had been nowhere to be found. His influence as Yakuza was forfeit, therefore all real resources were cut off. He flipped the switch, but the lights didn't come on. Swearing, he stumbled over to a floor lamp as his eyes slowly began to adjust.

Suddenly pain exploded along the side of his face making his vision blur. Something dark moved off to the side, but it was too fast for him to recognize the kick coming. It connected and he flew over the couch with a grunt of pain, landing almost upside down on his shoulders. The shadow loomed over him then dropped down, slamming a knee to his chest. He felt his sternum snap with a sickening crackle. The shadow hauled him up and held him.

"D-Do. You. Have any idea? Who. I. AM?" He wheezed through pain.

The black-streaked face hissed back. "Any idea how little that matters anymore?"

Tetsuo grabbed for the knife at his back and lunged. The shadow easily bolted back, avoiding the slash. Three more pain-filled times he tried, unsuccessfully. Shadow moved again and Tetsuo took advantage with a feigned lunge, but actually going for the sword on the table.

He grabbed the katana and yanked the scabbard off. "I'll take you before Makagi himself. Head first!"

Tiffany stepped into moonlight and beckoned him. Tetsuo charged; swinging the sword diagonally, but a snap-kick to his knee shattered it, dropping him. A glance up as he went down, the shadow's hand over his mouth gave him a shock. Long blonde hair in a high pony-tail.

"It's all over. You're done." A honeyed voice finally said in his ear.

He'd heard that voice before.

"Who in the hell are you?" He managed to grind out then saw his own sword raising in front of him.

"Let fly; the wings of fury, on cold winds. I am death, calling your name: Tetsuo Makagi." Tiffany said then brought the blade down as he looked up in terror.

The expression of shock and horror remained on his face as the severed head rolled to stop a few feet away looking back. Tiffany wiped the blade clean on his sleeve then sheathed the sword. After double-checking she was leaving nothing behind, she replaced the listening devices and slipped out a side window. A stop in a discreet dark spot a few blocks away, to clean up and change, then she stopped at an automated mailing store. The sword was on its way to Ram's Rock Island, giving her a bit of satisfaction. Lyssa never said she couldn't have souvenirs of her travels. A sword was much better than a shirt or towel anyday, she thought on her way back to the hotel.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Ozaki Takagami nearly telegraphed his surprise. The woman practically stepped from a shadow, like one of his own shinobi. Gone was the stunning beauty that looked at home walking the garden path, replaced now by a black clad phantom exuding death with every move. Swirling black streaks across her face looked from a well practiced hand. The steps of her boots as she crossed the floor were muted and silent as she walked between the two columns of men and women seated to stand in front of Takagami.

A slight nod of her head. "You stated terms of a deal you wished to make."

She held out a sword-bag. Toshigawa took it and then opened it to reveal the hilt. He pulled the bag down, holding the scabbard with one hand. The sword was drawn by his other hand holding the hand-guard. Carefully he looked down the length of the blade.

"The sacred blade of our family has returned." He then addressed Lyssa. "Upon my honor, as of this moment, you hold our debt. Redemption whenever and however you wish. The ones you have passed warning of, will not be schooled in The Way. Their location is my gift to you, Golden Shadow."

Lyssa took the slip of paper then held forth her hand after pulling off a glove, showing the ring on her finger. "My insignia. Fulfill its request."

Takagami bowed, followed by the columns of shinobi and kunoichi. When they sat up a moment later, she was gone.

"Soke, do we follow? Lend assistance?" One asked.

Ozaki stared at the symbol of his family on the far wall. "No. It is not desired. To intrude would be loss of face."

Quickly he took up brush and paper, drew on it then turned it to them. "Mark well; the Keeper of our debt. Any who show it, are to be brought here with every respect."

The thirty shinobi and kunoichi of the Takagami Clan bowed.

"The Golden shadow has returned our honor; for us to avenge ourselves!" Ozaki Takagami declared.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany stood in the foyer exchanging good-byes. One of the teen girls, had showed her several items to send home to Kasey, Kristine and Mindy. Each were receiving a decorative yukata, a painting and a doll. The teen took pride in mailing the gifts in 'Tiffany Onee-sama', big sister Tiffany's, name.

"Moscow will be cold, compared to Tokyo. Be sure to dress appropriately." Tamaki chided her.

"I have some clothing and will buy more as I need, Bachan." Tiffany smiled.

Yoshida gave her a stern look. "The Russians do not share the same sense of honor we do, young one. The fun and games you enjoyed here, should not be repeated there."

Tiffany giggled. "I'll try to behave, Jii-sama."

Tamaki scolded. "As well you should! You are going there for studies, not mischief, Tiffany-chan."

"I'll train hard, Bachan." Tiffany replied seriously.

She bowed then hugged and kissed them both.

"Away child. Takashi will see you to your flight." Yoshida said gently.

Tiffany smiled and went down the side hall to the garage.

"If her destiny were different, I would see about arranging a marriage into the family." Yoshida commented as they walked out to the courtyard.

Tamaki asked. "Lyssa-chan has foreseen her greatness, hasn't she?"

Yoshida shook his head. "That power, she does not possess. Lyssa-chan is to be victorious in battles after the sacrifice of herself or one innocent. That was what I had foreseen. She has paid the price for her destiny twice. Tiffany-chan possesses great power, but the path of her destiny is not yet cleared for her to travel. Soon, it will be."

They both smiled as a butterfly fluttered past and a dove landed on a branch of the cherry tree.

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 7: Iron Dolphin Book 2   A routine server penetration reveals   a threat is valid so   Krystel deploys to London.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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Chapter 1

"Report." Dannigan said over the video link.

Krystel replied. "Aye Sir. Yesterday I finally infiltrated the mobile system for True Freedom, that new international militia group. That's what they say they are, total bullshit. They're Tangos and definitely have targets in the U.K."

That got Dannigan's attention. "They just hit the priority list then. What targets?"

"Waterloo Station, the EYE, Her Majesty's Theatre and some girls' school. That's London alone. There's several more scattered around." Krystel listed.

Dannigan was thinking. "Can you get that intel into a form that can't be traced back specifically to us? By that I mean, our group in particular. Can you make it look like its coming from another agency?"

Krystel nodded. "Yes sir. I can introduce standard NSA, DIA or CIA coding. There's a catch. To do that it'll require the intel be hand carried."

"Stand-by to deploy. I need to touch base on some things. How long to prep the package as DIA?" Dannigan asked.

Krystel smiled. "Ten minutes."

"Out." Dannigan closed the window.

Kimberly looked over. "Fun, fun, fun."

"I don't know Kim. I think I'd rather have gone on that Japan Op with Lyssa. You know how I love Shibuya and Tiffany sent back a real sword." Krystel shrugged.

Lyssa spoke up from behind them. "Getting you TO Shibuya isn't the problem, Krystel. Getting you OUT is. If we did foreign posting, we'd station you there just to shut you up."

All three laughed. Currently of the O.I.C.A., only Tiffany and Shawna were off the island. Rodrick, Pete and Carl didn't count as they were on a hop. LoneStar was currently teaching the girls in the classroom and Maria was with Anna in Freeport as Anna had physical therapy. The remaining Black Badge Deputies were getting ready to take the girls' next classes.

Lyssa turned around. "Krystel. Who would you be meeting with over there?"

"Any of about two thousand people." Krystel replied.

Kimberly leaned back in her chair. "Get specific. Who could make the most of it?"

"MetPol. MI-6." Krystel answered.

Lyssa shook her head. "The Rumpus Room Krystel. Where do they keep their divers?"

"Oh! Room 40." Krystel giggled.

Kimberly nodded. "That's who. The Brits' World War One crypto-group. That's the background. It went back in action not long ago as their front line cyber-ops unit. They're the sword and shield."

"I like it. Find the key players. Krystel, learn who's who and be ready to go in. Find out who their Cat-lady is, who cosplays as a Spice-girl, you know the drill. These guys and girls won't be much different than our own so they'll have digital footprints. Track them down and learn their quirks. I want you ready for anything they throw at you, including nothing. I want you to hit like a 30 mike-mike Tungsten Jacketed Depleted Uranium round. Hard, clean and leave them wondering what just happened." Lyssa ordered.

"Kim will give you some friendlies. She knows who."

Krystel laughed. "Aye aye."

Krystel began working her terminal as the super-array came to life behind the glass wall.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Theodore Grimes answered the phone's intercom. "Yes Cynthia?"

"Sir. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a strange call." Cynthia said.

Ted involuntarily looked to the door. "Strange? What do you mean?"

"An American, claiming that he is making an 'Obscene Phone Call', Sir. Sir, this is a DIRECT call. It rang straight through." Cynthia informed him.

"Put him through. If he knows how to get directly to the office, it must be important." Ted replied.

Cynthia was still unsure but said. "Line four Sir."

Ted switched off the intercom and keyed the line. "Yes? Who is this?"

"Somebody that knows you write slanderous things on the bathroom stall doors at the football games." Dannigan replied.

"PATRICK DANIELS! You renegade Yank!" Ted laughed. "What have I done to warrant a call out of the blue? It MUST be something outrageous."

Dannigan laughed back. "It DEFINITELY is! It seems you, and I can't believe I have to say this, are owed a favor."

"Right." Ted hedged.

"The thing, with the guy, in the place, sometime ago. You hit the lottery." Dannigan said.

Ted caught on quick. He was being vague deliberately. The whole point of it was this was payback for a favor done previously that had serious ramifications. This payback was on the same scale and should be taken gravely.

"My lucky day. How EXACTLY do I go about claiming my winnings?" Ted asked.

Dannigan explained. "Person to Person. Details within the next 12 hours, direct to you only."

"Will they be able to provide details personally?" Ted asked.

Dannigan knew he was asking, in order to determine who met Krystel. "Definitely. To satisfaction, Ted."

"Fantastic. I'll be looking forward to counting my good fortune with a smile." Ted replied, now knowing that the person coming wasn't a courier.
A cyber-operative was coming and quite possibly the one that had found whatever was being brought.

"Take care Ted." Dannigan signed off.

"You too, you filthy-minded Yank." Ted replied then disconnected and leaned back in his chair. "So the American D.I.A. are paying back some favor they owe us and sending one of their best to hand it over personally. Why do I feel as if I just agreed to let in a Rider of the Apocalypse?"

 

~o~O~o~
 

"WAIT! You mean YOU are going to London? On a Mission?" Kasey asked.

Krystel had to inform the girls that their advanced system classes would be suspended during her absence. They seemed to be taking it in stride.

Mindy, of course, kept things in perspective. "Aunt Krystel, will you be able to do stuff while you're there?"

"I'll take some time to pick up something for each of you." Krystel laughed.

All three of the girls loved their care-package from Tiffany's trip to Tokyo. The extra package, which turned out to be a sword, went unnoticed by them. That sword now resided in the new cottage built for Tiffany. Krystel had one too, as did Hunter, Carl, Pete and Eddie. The cottages were built to withstand the force of a Category 5 hurricane just as The houses for Lyssa and Rodrick, the DeMarcos and Everbrites. All of the housing was on a separate electrical grid, powered by a battery bank recharged by solar panels and wind turbines.

The trick had been bringing them all onto the Island's power from the underwater power line to spike usage then taken off. Now the increased demand by the array was camouflaged.

Kristine was excited about the prospect of new things from far away places.

"COOL!" The girls cheered.

Kimberly came up from the Command Center. "Ok. I've got your travel plans. Tonight, LoneStar will take you up to Eglin Air Force Base and catch a hop to Andrews. Madison will meet you there and give you the credentials and paperwork en route to Dulles Airport. You'll need your Glocks on this trip. You're pretending to be D.I.A. attached to Army CounterIntel."

"Mrs. Kimberly, I thought D.I.A. didn't have Armed Status?" Kristine asked.

Kimberly smiled. "They don't. But our very Special Agent Kerri Emerson of the D.I.A. is seconded to U.S.Army Counter Intelligence, which DOES have Armed Status."

"Why all that?" Kasey asked. "Why not N.S.A.?"

Lyssa answered the question. "Camouflage. Counter-Intel people come and go from other Agencies and Services quite a bit. It's known that happens. Now Krystel, with her Navy background, could go in as N.C.I.S. Unfortunately they have a television show which makes hiding as one of them a problem. Krystel doesn't need that."

"OH." All three girls said.

"The easy way is not always the best. Sometimes Red-Tape and bureaucracy can be effective. A wall of silence doesn't work as well as an unending road of nonsense answers." Krystel smiled.

"We'd always go for the locked door instead of millions of unsecured files." Kristine said with understanding. "Not Allowed is our catnip!"

Kasey groaned. "Telling us we can't go somewhere is an open challenge. We'll do it just to spite! Free rein to nowhere works better!"

"They're learning." Lyssa said with satisfaction.

Krystel nodded. "They ARE learning."

"The world of Intelligence girls. Smoke and mirrors. Things that make no sense, can be made to. If things make enough sense, they are believed." Lyssa told them. "That's were Black Intel comes in at. The best lies are ninety-nine percent truth. Krystel, break it down."

Krystel looked to them. "Think of it like fishing. Hook them with truth, reel them in with facts and they will go head-long into a net of fantasy. What does that mean? It means I get to spend most of the day creating my Legend. It's not hard, but it is time consuming. All three of you girls have a Legend that took a month to create. Our Legends were harder, because much of it isn't digital. Get it now?"

"The whole time they were training, their Legends were being made. The whole time I was retraining myself, I made my Legend. Halls of Records were physically entered and hard files planted. Hospitals, Census Offices, City Halls, Court Houses, Social Security offices, Newspaper Morgues, Libraries, Schools and Colleges. D.O.D. was the easiest. You three girls were a breeze." Lyssa told them.

"Maria was a nightmare. One hundred and twelve points of hard file."

Kimberly nodded. "And the files have to look authentic. Aged paper and inks, type-face of typewriters. Think about it. You can't just laser-print the documents and stick them in the drawer. Stands out like a grenade in a basket of Easter eggs."

Mindy had wide eyes. "WOW! ALL THAT?"

Lyssa smiled to Mindy. "You took a few hours and nine incursions. Shawna did yours. Speaking of, Shawna sent you all a package of DVDs and CDs. It's in the Hangar lounge."

All three girls squealed with glee and ran off for their new treasures.

Kimberly shook her head. "Why can't it be that easy with the Brass?"

"For one, they're not that cheap and second; they don't know about us. The more hoops we make them jump through to get what we need, we have to jump through four times more to hide it from them." Lyssa remarked.

"Oh god, ain't that the truth." Kimberly agreed.

That evening, LoneStar was piloting the Lear and took off heading Northwest to Eglin Air Force base. Krystel caught a hop on a C-17 heading for Andrews Air Force base. Madison met her there and drove to Washington Dulles Airport. Krystel's flight was scheduled to arrive at 0800 London time.

---

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chapter 2

Tamara Smart waited just behind the Baggage Claim area, ahead of the Green Channel. In her bag was an airside pass, although she had no intention to show it unless that was strictly necessary. She checked a monitor, a flight from the Unites States had landed and a woman she was meeting was supposed to be on it. Tammy knew all international arrivals had to clear customs after collecting their luggage from the conveyor, her job was to ease her contact through that minor administrative irritation.

Today Tammy really felt the full the meaning of an American idiom she had heard once. She was the 'low man on the totem pole'. Late the day before, she had been pulled into James Townsend's office.

"Tammy, your curriculum will be suspended for a couple days. I have a bit of a task for you." The head of Room 40 stated.

Tammy looked confused. "Task, Sir?"

"Yes. We're going to be visited by an American. A woman with their Army's Counter Intelligence. As I understand it, they are 'repaying a favour' or some such thing." Townsend said.

"What favour, Sir?" Tammy asked, curious.

James shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't the foggiest. Apparently it's one those things above my pay grade, if you can believe that! The more you play in the Intelligence game, the more you'll come across it. We do a favour for someone, they do a favour for us and vice versa, it's off the books and officially never happens. Many times the details are deliberately murky for security reasons; need-to-know and all that. Things like this usually come from the result of back-channeling Tammy. It works on the concept of informal relations, instead of going through the Ministry officials and all that paperwork, a personal connection is used. It saves time and keeps us on friendlier terms on working levels."

"This happens alot?" Tammy asked.

Townsend nodded. "Quite a bit. All the time back in the Cold War days."

"Learn something new and didn't have to read a book." Tammy commented, mostly to herself then asked. "So what do I need to do?"

"You'll meet her at Heathrow, get her settled in then bring her here. More than likely she'll be jet-lagged. I'll be honest, I'm not expecting much. Probably hand us a drive-stick and that be all. I suspect she's merely acting as a courier. However, if she's not immediately turning back, look after her. Think of it as a weekend." Townsend said airily. "It counts as overtime and you're on full expenses, got it?"

Tammy did indeed get it. Townsend needed to delegate someone to babysit the American courier. As she was only being trained up, that meant she didn't have any pressing matters and the least important person, therefore the obvious choice. That her face was largely unfamiliar was useful.

"And it gets me out of your hair for a day or two." Tammy surmised.

Townsend nodded and referred to a page. "If you want to put it that way. Her flight arrives tomorrow morning at 8. Name is, there it is; Kerri Emerson. 8 A.M. Tamara. That will be all."

Now she was Heathrow, waiting. She saw the luggage carousel turning and people lining up around it. Bags began to descend onto it and the owners began claiming them. She tapped the small sign against her leg, waiting for people to start approaching.

"I'm not going to know you're here for me, unless you hold up the sign." A feminine voice said beside her.

Tammy turned and saw a pretty blonde woman with a carry-on bag beside her. "Miss Emerson?"

"Why don't we skip that part and you just call me Kerri. Ok?" Krystel asked.

Tammy nodded then remembered that she shouldn't just take face value. "Might I see some identification?"

Krystel chuckled. "Sure. Why not."

From the inner pocket of her suit jacket she produced a leather credential wallet and showed the badge then the ID. Tammy had looked up the Unites States Army's CounterIntelligence online the night before. The design of the badge and crest on the card looked authentic enough. The fact the woman provided the correct first name on her own was also in her favor.

Krystel laughed and whispered. "Maybe we should have agreed on a challenge and password?"

"That would have been cool. cliche', but cool." Tammy laughed. "I didn't drive over so we'll have to cab it."

Krystel nodded. "Fine by me. I'm ready. Didn't get your name though."

"Oh. I'm Tammy Smart. This way." Tammy said then led the way out, flashing her own pass at a bored Customs officer.

Outside they chose a taxi from the line and got in.

"Where to, ladies?" The driver asked.

Krystel answered. "Black Lion, please, the one off the Great West Road."

"Black Lion it is, Love." The cabby affirmed and pulled out into traffic.

Tammy was surprised. That was the last place she would expect an American to stay. Didn't they usually stay at the Marriot or the Millenium?

"So this isn't your first trip to London?" Tammy asked.

Krystel shook her head. "Nope. It's my third."

Tammy took a minute to discreetly look Kerri over. Even her shoes looked high-end.

Krystel noticed and smiled. "They're Prada and my suit is Carolina Herrera."

"Very nice." Tammy commented and thought to herself. 'Is it regular practice for American Intelligence service women to dress like that?'

Soon they were at the Black Lion Guest House and Krystel checked in. She waved Tammy to follow up to the room. Inside she set her case on the stand then went to the en suite bathroom and came out a few minutes later.

"Something on your mind?" Krystel asked.

Tammy shrugged. "Looking pretty flash for a spy. Is that regular?"

Krystel laughed. "When traveling it's a good idea to look 'flash' as you put it. They think businesswoman, not spy. Spies want to blend in and not be noticed. I stand out so in truth I do blend in. Once I get here, I can dress down if I want. I carry electronics, a businesswoman is expected to. If I wore an off-the-rack wash-and-wear suit and shoes from a chain store, I would stand out. Instead, I look like my take-home is over a hundred grand a year. Nobody is looking at me as more than some hot bitch they'd like to nail on the conference table."

Tammy's jaw dropped with that statement. "Wow. That is blunt."

Krystel detached the laptop case from the front of her carry-on. "Hide in plain sight Tammy. It works more times than you think. As a woman, it's more effective. You wouldn't believe how many times the guy in the loud suit with a bluetooth in his ear, randomly complaining about somebody named John or Fred goes ignored."

"That's crazy. Oh God! I've seen guys like that. I wanted to get as far away as I could!" Tammy admitted.

"Right. Now you know. Get four obviously designer suits. Two winter and two summer. A pair of Christian Louboutain black heels and a pair of white Manolo's. Wear one suit and pack the other, depending on the weather. A good pair of boots and coat for winter. Don't be easy through security, but don't be a nightmare either. Have a bluetooth in your ear and bitch about Barbara or Margaret." Krystel advised.

Tammy couldn't but laugh. "Really? That'll work?"

Krystel nodded. "Look like money and complain about your boss, people will leave you alone out of sympathy. When you get older, change it around; complain about useless assistants and other flunkies. Nobody wants to cross some uppity bitch that acts like the world is full of assholes in her way. Look like a corporate hatchet bitch out for scalps and nobody will give you a second thought. They'll treat you like that."

Tammy thought about it. It did seem to make sense. "I can pull that off. I do have the wardrobe, except the shoes."

"Well, let's get going. I'm sure your Big Chief Muck-a-muck is about ready to tear his hair out wondering what's going on." Krystel said and led the way out.

---

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chapter 3

A tube ride brought them to a quiet neighborhood. At the corner Tammy led Krystel down the crossing street for almost half a block. She stopped at a wrought iron gate and let them in. At the well weathered door she rang the bell. It opened a moment later and a man in suit greeted them.

"Hello ladies. Do come in." The man invited them inside.

Krystel followed Tammy inside and took out her credentials.

The man closed the door and asked. "Might I see."

"These?" Krystel cut him off and held her credentials out.

He took the wallet. "Those, indeed. Thank you."

He looked them over and handed the wallet back. "In order, Agent Emerson. Miss Smart will see you up. I do need to inspect your case, though."

"Of course." Krystel handed over her laptop case.

He looked it over and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Would you mind leaving it here?"

"Kind of hard to show your boss why I'm here if I do that." Krystel said pointedly.

The man sighed. "I see."

Krystel nodded. "I understand OpSec and being cautious, however, I'm not here to pick up. I'm here to give. I hate to put it this way, but time is critical. You don't have time to mess around."

"What I don't have, Agent Emerson, is time to screw up. OpSec, is paramount here." The man said. "At the very least, you'll have to leave your pistol with me."

"No argument." Krystel pulled the Glock from the small of her back and handed it over.

Tammy had noticed the faint outline and was curious what kind of pistol an American would carry. Her gaze focused on it, she was surprised when a second was handed over as well.

The man gave her a wary look. "I think I should ask for anything else."

"No problem." Krystel pulled the Mad Dog Operator from her sleeve and handed it to him. "That's everything."

Tammy took interest in the knife. "Excuse me, but what exactly is this knife?"

"I'm not sure what it's called, Miss Smart. I believe it's made by Mad Dog knives in America." He replied.

Krystel answered them. "It isn't a new Frequent Flyer. It's called Operator. The blade is ceramic."

"I thought ceramic knives still set off detectors?" Tammy asked.

The man shook his head. "Commercial knives do. Mad Dog has government contracts and do not add the metal to the ceramic mix for government issued blades. Our people that travel commercially on a frequent basis are issued similar equipment. I do admit, I like the look of this model. The Operator, you said?"

Krystel nodded. "Yes. Can we get to it?"

He nodded, so Tammy took the lead. "This way."

Tammy led up the stairs and after pausing for the secretary, went into James Townsend.

"Mister Townsend, Agent Kerri Emerson." Tammy introduced. "Agent Emerson, James Townsend."

Krystel shook hands in the Euro-fashion. "Thank you for seeing me Mister Townsend. I won't waste your time. You have a verified threat of Imminent Hostile Action. Right here in London."

"WHAT?" Townsend blurted.

Krystel took out her laptop and a single page from her sleeve. "Here's the list for the next 48 hours. On my laptop I have more and the key to an encryption I know you'll be interested in."

James Townsend was by no means, a stupid man. "Follow me, now!"

Tammy, having no other instruction, followed as well.

Townsend led them to another staircase and led them down into a deep basement.

Krystel looked around and nodded in approval. "So this is your Arena. Not bad."

"We call it something else here, Agent Emerson." Townsend replied. "Shall we?"

"In the immortal words of Tone Loc; Let's Do It." Krystel said and took out her laptop. "I need a cable."

One of the technicians handed her the end of a cable while the laptop booted up. She keyed in the password and nodded to him. He typed in a command as well. A screen on the wall lit up and began to scroll code.

Krystel put on a headset, plugged into the laptop and spoke. "The code you now see is the encryption currently securing the network for True Freedom. They call themselves a militia group. That is incorrect. They are a terrorist group and their current target zone is the U.K."

Several began nod their heads and point up at the screen. The screen split and another set of code began to scroll.

"The second set of code is the key to that encryption. They have no idea their security is compromised." Krystel explained as the encryption shifted into coherent data.

Suddenly the room became agitated.

"BLOODY HELL! Those four places are targeted for tomorrow!" Townsend exclaimed.

Tammy noticed the locations. "Most of those are tourist hotspots!"

"High value soft targets. Those will grab serious media attention. International media attention." Krystel remarked. "Do not be fooled, these guys are pulling pages out of all the major players' books. This is their opening bid to make the big time and they're serious about it."

"Bloody fucking serious I'd say." One the technicians remarked.

Krystel fixed him with a look. "It's 'Go big or go home' when it comes to terrorist action. They count success in bodies same as we do, only the bodies they want are civilian. We want combatants' bodies."

Krystel slipped the headset off and stepped into a position, better viewed by the room at large. "Ladies and gentlemen, let me be very clear. Other agencies may marginalize, but my group doesn't. I may not not be up on all your procedures, but I am held to a particular standard. Anything other than complete destruction of the hostiles with NO civilian loss, is FAILURE! These are YOUR civilians and visitors to YOUR country. I found these terrorists that are about to cut loose in your front yard. I'm told that you were owed a favor, so I came here personally, to see to it that you got this information. My job is now done. The rest is ALL you."

Townsend said nothing, just snatched up the nearest phone and dialed. In moments he was in heated discussion.

"Excuse me, but just how in Bloody Hell did you get the encryption key?" One of the technicians asked.

Krystel smiled. "I stole it from them after I phased through their ICE. That's how I also know, they are unaware of the penetration. Go ahead and copy the data."

Over the next three hours, Krystel simply stood back and watched. This was the Brits' show now. Her mission was done.

"So what now?" Tammy asked.

Krystel shrugged. "Once I leave this building, I'm on my own time. My part is done now. Sometimes I get to watch the song and dance, other times I don't. Since this is your show, I don't have a ticket option. I'm surprised I'm still here."

Tammy nodded. "I see your point. Though I guess it could be a bit rude to just throw you out now."

"Report in! First two cells are down!" Townsend called out, after answering a phone.

A chorus of cheers called out. An hour later he reported that the other two London cells had been eliminated.

Tammy sighed in relief. "That's over."

Krystel shook her head. "It's only the first of many. Like the poet said; miles to go, before I sleep."

Tammy giggled. "We use kilometers these days, helps with European collaborations."

Krystel smirked back. "Wise-ass."

James Townsend walked over. "The other cell locations will be sometime. Thank you Agent Emerson, Miss Smart will look after you until your return flight. When is that?"

"Day after tomorrow. My schedule is irregular so I'm being allowed 'off days' here. I was going to get in some shopping tomorrow." Krystel remarked.

"I see. No matter, Miss Smart will still look after you." Townsend stated.

"Right." Krystel drawled then turned to Tammy. "Why don't we grab an early dinner."

They left after collecting Krystel's personal effects. I.E., her weapons.

Krystel followed Tammy's lead and together they rode the Tube into another section of town. Back on street level, Tammy gestured around.

"Take your pick." Tammy said.

"This is quite the assortment." Krystel laughed. "Even a McDonald's. How about something with color? Asian flair?"

Tammy thought about it. "Well. There's a Thai place close by. I've never been in though."

Krystel nodded. "Let's investigate."

Tammy led the way and turned down what looked like an alley. The scent of Asian cooking practically grabbed them by the nostrils.

"OH YEAH!" Krystel groaned.

"This is it." Tammy announced, stopping at a door then looked as Krystel started laughing. "What's so funny?"

Krystel pointed at the sign. "This is a Thai place?"

"I guess so." Tammy shrugged. "Why are you laughing?"

Krystel smiled and pointed at the sign. "That's Vietnamese! Come on."

Krystel took the lead and pulled Tammy inside and stopped at the inner doorway and bowed slightly to the young woman. Tammy's jaw dropped when Krystel spoke in a language she didn't know. The young woman working there looked to be very pleased and spoke back in the same language then led them to a table. The hostess left and came back with an elderly woman. Krystel and the woman talked, apparently a joke was told and the old woman laughed, swatting at Krystel's shoulder. Krystel laughed as well. The old woman was still smiling as she left and began yelling to the people in the kitchen.

"I'm going to take a wild guess here, you speak Vietnamese?" Tammy asked.

The hostess laughed. "You're American friend does, and she has quite the mouth on her! Grandma hasn't heard that joke since the Americans got her out of Saigon."

Tammy looked confused. "I don't follow."

"The older woman was a nurse during the Vietnam Conflict. It was an old joke the soldiers used to tell back then. You wouldn't get it, but it got my point across. Grannie is going to take real good care of us." Krystel explained.

A young man came from the back and set down two beers and poured them. Krystel thanked him and drank. Tammy drank and had to fight the urge to pull a face.

Krystel giggled. "Vietnamese beer tastes different than other beers. A word of warning, the rice wine will put you on your ass fast. The beer is safer."

Plates were brought out and set in front of them. Grannie chattered away at Krystel, nudging and pointing. Krystel giggled and replied back, seeming to egg her on. The waiter couldn't hold back anymore and started to laugh, only to be swatted himself, making him laugh harder.

Krystel looked over to Tammy. "Grannie brought us shrimp, Nha Trang style."

Tammy picked up the chopsticks and pointed to a plate. "What's this?"

"It's called Bahn Cahn Trang Bang. Pork, tapioca noodles, herbs and peppers." Krystel explained between bites.

Tammy tried it and nodded. "This is good."

Krystel looked over to old woman and said something.

The old woman patted Tammy's shoulder, nodded and said with a thick accent. "I easy on you. Not her!"

Krystel began laughing again and clicked her chopsticks. "Thanks Grannie."

The old woman swatted at her again and went back to the kitchen.

Tammy ate some more and asked. "What did she mean by that?"

"Oh. Grannie is going easy on the peppers for you. Not me, she's going the way they do in Vietnam, away from the tourist spots. Some of the stuff there will melt through a steel bowl." Krystel warned with a smile then tapped a bowl beside her plate. "I even asked for extra peppers."

Tammy looked at the bowl and figured she was being set up for a challenge, but Krystel shook her head.

"Bad idea if you're not very experienced with the cuisine." Krystel warned. "If you can't take a teaspoon of Tabasco sauce without crying, never get extra peppers in a Vietnamese resturaunt."

The old woman swatted Krystel's shoulder again. "BAH! You talk like Green Beret!"

Tammy decided it might be a good idea to try making nice. "I like the food Grandmum."

"Hmmmph. You behave better." The old woman said in approval and cupped Tammy's cheek. "A good girl."

Krystel giggled as the woman walked back to the kitchen. "She likes you."

"Is that a good thing?" Tammy asked.

Krystel nodded. "Yeah. You come around frequent and she'll take care of you personally. You know you're in good with Grannie if she brings you to the back to eat with her. She'll build up your tolerance easy and treat you like one of her own grandkids."

Tammy was about to ask another question when a bowl of soup was set down in front of her. She looked up and the old woman patted her shoulder and said something in Vietnamese.

"Grannie said, eat up." Krystel told her then added quietly. "I'd bet that it's the family's main dinner tonight. It's a big gesture."

Tammy tried it and discovered it to be very rich and tasty. "Wow, that's really good."

"Don't be surprised if you never get a table when you come in by yourself from now on." Krystel commented.

Tammy looked up. "They won't serve me?"

Krystel shook her head. "Nope. Grannie will come out and pull you back there to eat with her and the kids. Want some advice?"

"Sure." Tammy said.

"Eat here at least once every two weeks." Krystel said. "They'll probably start teaching you Vietnamese."

"I only heard of this place in passing." Tammy remarked.

Krystel took another pepper and munched. "This is what we call 'a hole in the wall place'. There's no tourists in here. Notice that?"

Tammy discreetly looked around and nodded. "Now I do. Is that a good thing?"

"Yep. Get yourself in a bind and you're on Grannie's good side, you can hide out. Grannie was an ARVN nurse. Army of Republic of Vietnam. She's a tough ol' bird. You get hurt and she'll patch you up too." Krystel said. "She was a Hail Mary."

"Hail Mary?" Tammy asked.

Krystel nodded. "After Saigon fell, which was the last city the U.S. pulled out of, a lot people friendly to us got left behind. Missions went in to get as many out as possible. Grannie was one of the last ones to get pulled. Didn't get to the part of how she wound up here instead of the U.S."

The hostess had the last part of Krystel's explanation and spoke up. "Grandmother is always grateful to the soldiers who sneak back to rescue her. Brave men that kept their word to protect her. It was a Colonel named Butler, no matter how much money the North offered, he kept going back to bring people out. Grandmother was the last one. He brought her to Thailand and somehow got her permission to come here. She made her life here, but never forgot the Colonel and his men. Grandmother thinks it funny, such a young American woman knows how to talk to her."

"That's quite the story. Have you heard of this Colonel, Kerri?" Tammy asked.

Krystel shook her head. "Before my time. I know the type though."

"I'll have to come by more often when I'm in London." Tammy told her.

The hostess nodded. "You will always be welcome."

The old woman came back out and looked at Tammy. "What your name?"

"Tammy. Tammy Smart, Mum." Tammy answered.

The old woman nodded then said something to the hostess and went back to the kitchen.

"What did she say?" Tammy asked.

The hostess smiled. "Grandmother said that you don't sit out here anymore. You eat with her in the back from now on."

Krystel smirked. "Told you so."

"I look forward to it." Tammy said, going for diplomacy.

Krystel called out in Vietnamese and the old woman returned. Krystel pulled money from her purse and handed it her then stood up and hugged her. the woman hugged her back then smiled finally.

When Tammy stood up she was immediately hugged by her as well and told firmly. "You come back, Tammy."

"I will Grandmum." Tammy said returning the hug.

Together they walked out. Tammy saw Krystel back to The black Lion then went home for the night.

---

---

chapter 4

The next morning Tammy met Krystel in the lobby.

"Did you already have breakfast?" Krystel asked.

Tammy nodded. "Yes. Have you?"

"I've been up for hours. No pool, so I had to extend my run." Krystel chuckled.

Tammy led the way out. "You run and swim everyday?"

"I bike too. Twenty-five mile bike ride, seven mile swim and fifteen mile run. Six days a week."

Krystel said as they went down to the Tube.

That impressed Tammy. "Are you training for an event?"

"Yeah. It's called 'staying alive'." Krystel commented.

The station was practically empty so Tammy asked. "I'm curious about something, may I ask a professional question?"

"You can ask, some things I can't answer. You know how that goes." Krystel replied.

Tammy nodded. "I get that. What I wanted to ask is, do you shoot very often?"

"I'm on a range twice a week." Krystel answered. "Is that what you really wanted to ask?"

"I saw you carried two pistols. I got curious." Tammy explained.

Krystel nodded. "Oh. Yeah, that would get you curious. You have tight gun laws here. Have you ever handled a sidearm before?"

"I took a course, I qualified." Tammy sidestepped.

"Right. Well, I travel a good bit. Not everywhere has those kind of laws. I can expect to get into a spot, anytime, anywhere. Shit happens Tammy. It can, and probably will, happen to you. There's only one thing you can do about it. Prepare and train for the worst, hope for the best and pray it evens out at the end of the day." Krystel said heavily.

Tammy understood that. "I get it."

"Shooting is a perishable skill. Especially if you use heavy calibers. They probably taught you with a nine millimeter. Standard NATO issue. I carry two forty calibers. It has more stopping power. That means it hits harder and makes more damage. That comes with a price though. You have to shoot more often to stay accurate. If I didn't shoot often enough, I'd lose strength in my hands, wrists and arms. That means I can't shoot very long. Not all firefights are over in a couple of seconds. Some can drag out. Don't shoot enough, you're in trouble fast." Krystel said.

The train came and they had to hold their conversation around the other riders. Krystel said she wanted to hit Harrods, then Picadilly. Tammy was surprised at the purchases. It seemed that Kerri was buying for multiple ages and both genders.

"You must come from a large family, Kerri." Tammy remarked.

Krystel laughed. "You'd think that. Some of this is for friends and their kids."

"Oh." Tammy nodded, then realized it was a side-step.

Kerri answered her question, without answering the question.

Krystel looked around. "Let's stop for a while."

"There is a Starbucks. Fancy a coffee?" Tammy asked.

Krystel agreed. "Why not?"

They went in and Krystel paid for both coffees and some pastries. Their conversation was casual, mostly about fashion. Tammy learned that Kerri preferred American designers for her business wear, but Italian shoes. Her lingerie ranged from American sportswear to French designers, depending on her activity.

Tammy had noticed that Kerri was not wearing, nor mentioned hosiery and was about to ask when Kerri's expression changed. She took on a hardened look.

Tammy asked. "What is it?"

"How many people have we seen wearing bulky long coats?" Krystel asked.

Tammy found that odd. "None I recall. Why?"

Krystel shifted in her seat. "Our day is about to go to shit."

"What?" Tammy asked then found herself yanked out of the chair as Kerri dove to the side.

"CONTACT, RED THREE!" Krystel yelled pulling Tammy to the floor and behind a wall.

Automatic rifles cut the usual din of the coffee shop and people began to scream in fear.

"BLOODY HELL!" Tammy stated.

Krystel put her back to the wall and pulled a pistol from behind her. "Tammy are you carrying?"

"I damn well am!" Tammy pulled her handbag closer and brought out the Glock.

"Get ready to go hot." Krystel instructed and picked up a metal spoon and tossed it against a window.

The smack and clang of the spoon drew all eyes to the window, including the four gunners. Krystel dropped to the floor into a line of fire as Tammy leaned around the corner. Both fired. first one, then another dropped screaming. Number three looked unaffected and turned to the real threat. Krystel's pistol shifted and spat out two rounds that brought him down. Tammy shifted to the last gunman as he fired toward them. A stitch of bullets chewed toward Krystel as she fired again and dropped him.

"SHIT! I hit him Kerri. Why didn't he go down?" Tammy asked angrily.

Krystel stood up. "Everybody stay down!"

Tammy followed her over to the downed gunmen as they struggled to reclaim their dropped rifles. One managed to get his hand on his rifle, only to have Krystel shoot into his shoulder.

"FORGET IT!" Krystel ordered then turned to the other. "You think that hurts. I can shoot you somewhere else and prove otherwise. Secure those rifles."

Tammy moved to gather up the rifles. That's when she noticed the wounds. Krystel had shot them in the hips and neck area.

'Why would she do that?' Tammy wondered to herself.

Police arrived calling out.

Krystel called out. "SECURE! FRIENDLY, FRIENDLY!"

"Put the gun down!" An armed officer called out.

Slowly Krystel put her pistol down on a table and turned to Tammy. "Gun on the table."

Tammy complied, putting the rifles on one table and her pistol on the same table as Kerri's.

Five armed officers slowly entered.

Krystel called out. "The police are here, please stay where you are. They'll get everybody cleared soon."

"We'll give the orders." The lead officer said.

Krystel nodded slowly. "Fine by me, but I'd rather these civilians not get shot by mistake, thinking it's safe now that you're here. I'm going to reach into my pocket slowly. I'm getting my ID."

"Slow and this better be good." The lead officer nodded.

Krystel slowly opened one side of her jacket with one hand and slowly reached in with the other to bring out the wallet. She held it out.

The officer took it and looked at both the badge and card. "Bloody Hell. This is going to be a hell of a mess. You can relax. What about your friend there?"

"I'll have to get my purse. It's over there." Tammy said and at his nod, retrieved it.

Carefully she extracted her firearms certificate and her special authority - the ubiquitous 'Get Of Of Jail Free' card.

The officer groaned. "It just keeps getting better."

"BOLLOCKS! These bastards are wearing body armour!" One of the other officers remarked.

Tammy looked over. "That's why he didn't go down!"

The lead officer noticed Krystel smirking. "You knew, didn't you?"

Krystel shrugged. "Bulky coats in this weather, it's a gimme."

Slowly the other patrons were brought out after clearing them.

A supervisory officer came in. "What happened?"

The lead officer went over and spoke quietly then pointed to Krystel and Tammy. The wounded were removed under guard and the dead was taken out covered with a sheet. Finally he walked over.

"Agent Emerson. Why is an American Intelligence officer shooting people in London?" The Supervisor asked.

Krystel gave him a flat look. "Just trying to stay alive."

"That's far from funny." The Supervisor stated.

Krystel glared at him. "You see me smiling?"

He was about to say something but was cut off.

"Here's how this can go down. You can raise hell about it and all the big government types get involved, that would create some very hard feelings and you get into eighteen different kinds of shit. Or 'the terrorists were taken down by officers that happened to be on a routine patrol' and there is no mention of any kind of intelligence people. Your people look good for the media and compliments go all around." Krystel said. "Unless you like sitting in offices of people in suits with no names that can make your career no longer exist? Oh, and I'll still be leaving tomorrow."

Tammy was quick on the uptake and added. "It does make things a bit sticky, two countries cooperating with each other, and one of those people get caught up in a terrorist attack and then harassed for saving all those civilians."

Tammy was following Kerri's lead, hoping they could fast-talk their way out of this. She could see the gears shifting in the officer's head when it all came to a grinding halt. Three men in suits walked in and called him over.

"Kerri. Why do I feeling that we almost got out of this?" Tammy whispered.

Krystel winked. "What do you mean 'almost'? This just got even more fun. We're about to be told to clear the area."

Suit One came over and handed their IDs back. "Out. Take the back door."

Krystel took her wallet and picked up her pistol. "We were never here."

Tammy followed suit and three minutes later they were in an alley walking away.

"I can't believe that worked. I'll probably be in deep tomorrow." Tammy said.

Krystel laughed. "Nope. If they mention your name, then have to bring me in and then that starts a whole slew of shit. No country wants to admit an American agent had to save their people during a terrorist attack. You won't even get a post-it note in your file over this. Especially an agent that has already helped them take down terror cells in their own country before they even launched attacks."

"Politics." Tammy said flatly.

Krystel shook her head. "Diplomacy. When people share Intel, the last thing anybody wants to do, is make it stop."

"What's the phrase? You've been here before?" Tammy asked.

Krystel smiled. "I think I know a place we could get a drink tonight. Meet me at seven. We'll grab a bite at the hotel then go out for drinks."

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tammy was surprised to see Kerri out of business-wear and definitely dressed for a night out. She was glad she had taken her sister's advice and wore her little black dress. Kerri wore a light blue dress that hugged her curves and silver sandals with stiletto heels. This time, Tammy followed Krystel's lead. They got off the tube at Embankment and walked down the street, drawing looks and comments of appreciation. When Kerri turned up a cobbled alley, Tammy wondered where they were going.

"Ok Kerri, I give. Where are we going?" Tammy asked.

Krystel stood at a door and opened it. "Here."

Inside Krystel could feel it and smiled. This was the right place. It was quiet and most of the conversations stopped as heads turned to note the newcomers.

Krystel walked straight to the bar. Tammy stay right on her tail.

"Evenin' ladies. Get you something?" the bartender asked in an obvious Australian accent.

Krystel smiled. "Evening. My friend and I would like scotch."

"Any in particular?" The bartender asked.

Krystel looked over to Tammy. "Wolfburn alright with you?"

"Sure, a decent twelve year old, if I recall." Tammy answered.

"Wolfburn, neat." Krystel said then looked around and settled on a man staring at her. "Send one to that gentleman as well. Make it a double for him."

After the glasses were set in front of them Tammy looked to Krystel. "Not many know about Wolfburn. What made you order it?"

"It's won three awards recently." Krystel said then said quietly. "I hear it's bad form to not drink scotch in a bar over here. I asked at the hotel, they recommended it. Why, you don't like it?"

"I like it just fine. I've drank it several times. What do you drink?" Tammy asked.

"Whatever is local. Otherwise I drink Crown and Seven." Krystel said.

An older voice with a strong Scottish accent said. "That's mighty nice o' you, but I wonder why you'd buy me a drink?"

"Oh. You just reminded me of my Uncle. Paul." Krystel remarked.

The old man smiled. "I see. Well my name just happens to be Sean, what's yours Darlin'?"

"You can call me Kerri." Krystel smiled.

Sean nodded. "Fine name. What about you?"

Tammy replied. "Tammy."

Sean nodded, taking note of the hint of accent to Tammy. "Fine name on you as well. So what brings you girls here?"

"Oh, just looking for a place with a respectable crowd." Krystel replied, putting stress on the word respectable.

Tammy discreetly looked around. She noticed almost all the men had the close haircut of being military. They all stood easy and confident. Kerri had brought them into a pub for current and ex-military.

"This uncle of yours, fair man with a drink is he?" Sean chuckled.

Krystel nodded. "Upon occasion, in the tropics. Seems like good company here, fine lads?"

"The finest, of course darlin'." Sean replied.

Krystel smiled. "Nice. London is so busy lately. Lots of noise. I could do with a bit of pleasant company. I'm sure Tammy feels the same."

Sean turned around and caught a young man's eye, who came over.

"Ladies." The young man greeted.

Sean introduced them. "Wade, this is Kerri. And this young lady is Tammy. Tammy could do with engaging company."

"Glad to, Colonel." Wade nodded to him then said to Tammy. "Hello Tammy. Marcus Wade, ever been to Afghanistan?"

Sean nodded. "Carry on Captain."

Tammy found herself steered away and talking with an obvious officer in the Army.

Sean turned back to Krystel. "Tropics, huh? So you're one of Dannigan's people?"

"Uncle sends his regards." Krystel said.

Sean nodded. "What else does he send?"

"Me and your latest bit of business. Hope the lads had a good time." Krystel remarked.

Sean chuckled. "Ask Wade."

Krystel looked over and smiled. "He looks busy."

"So he does. Heard a story today. Somebody took issue over a coffee. Wouldn't know about that would you?" Sean asked.

Krystel shrugged. "I went shopping with Tammy today Colonel MacTaggart. A turn around Picadilly. Can't visit London and not go there. I did see some gentlemen all done up in their suits."

"I'm sure you did." Sean nodded.

Krystel added. "They may have taken interest in Tammy and I. I don't think she could handle more than one admirer at a time though."

"Right you are. And yourself?" Sean asked.

Krystel smiled. "I'm the love 'em and leave 'em type. I'm not worried."

MacTaggart understood. By the time her plane crossed out of airspace, she would no longer exist. "Well, being that Tammy is a local girl, perhaps I should look after her best interests. Like an Uncle would."

"That would be very kind. A girl can always do, with an Uncle looking after her best interests." Krystel commented. "Bartender. A round for us, and include my two friends over there."

He nodded and filled glasses for them and traded for the ones they had emptied. Tammy did find the officer a good conversationalist. Before she and Krystel left, he slipped her a card.

In the Tube, Tammy asked. "Why do I get the feeling you wanted to go to that bar on purpose and knew exactly who would be there?"

"Got his number or did you give him yours?" Krystel smiled.

Tammy rolled her eyes. "I got his, now you."

"I just like being around military. Don't you?" Krystel gave Tammy a dreamy look.

Tammy shook her head, she knew she wasn't going to get anything out her. What she found strange, was that Kerri didn't seem to want anything out of her either. She said goodnight at the Black Lion and caught the Tube back home.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tammy stood in Heathrow the next morning, this time saying goodbye.

"Well Tammy. It's been nice meeting you." Krystel said.

Tammy nodded back. "It's been an adventure. Maybe one day I'll visit you. You can show me some American excitement."

Krystel laughed. "I doubt you'll find it that interesting. Shootings, stabbings, beatings. And that's just to claim your luggage. You want real crime, just wait until you fill up the gas tank of a rental car."

An announcement was called out.

"That's for me." Krystel said.

Tammy decided to see what Kerri would say. "Where could I write to you at?"

"P.O. Box 1142, Arlington, Virginia." Krystel replied. "Take care."

Krystel turned and went to the gate, presenting her ticket. Tammy watched as the plane finally took off twenty minutes later. Krystel retraced her route, Heathrow to Dulles then a quick ride over to Andrews to catch a hop back down to Eglin to be picked up by Pete to go back to Ram's Rock island. She was barely down the steps of the Lear that evening, when three girls swarmed her with hugs.

Krystel laughed. "Yes. I brought presents. For everybody."

In the lounge of the main hangar Lyssa gave a sad look.

"Can't even let you go for coffee Krystel." Lyssa said in a disappointed voice.

Maria looked over. "Indeed. Weren't you going over there just to give data, not solve the issue personally? I thought you were the more reserved of this insane collective"

"What gave you that idea? Hey, I can't help it if they can't handle the frap." Krystel said. "Keep up the critique and you won't get your presents."

Three girls chorused. "PLEASE!"

Krystel began handing out packages.

 
 
 
Tamara's Tales characters appear with permission. Thanks Shiraz!
Embracing Justice characters appear with permission. Thanks Jess!

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 8: Ghost Moth 3 Domestic and Disturbance   Life in Belder is fairly quiet, a   small friendly town. But the   holidays don't bring out the   best in all. WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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CHAPTER 1

Shawna stood out on the front walk admiring the lights. She had hired four high school boys to put up Christmas lights outside. Inside, she had set up an artificial tree and decorated it. She had been surprised that her holidays had been relatively quiet; minor incursions into various Intelligence agencies to maintain or upload O.I.C.A. identities. Sex scandals didn't warrant her attention and that seemed to be the current thing of late. Money and sex; politicos had their priorities, getting laid or paid. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, according to Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr back in 1849. The quote was still applicable it seemed and had been updated sometime back; 'Same shit, different day'.

The sound of a vehicle approaching caught her attention. A Belder Police SUV eased to a stop and the window powered down.

"That's nice!" Blake Jacobsen remarked and chuckled. "Can't really call it Dark House now."

Shawna smirked. "It's the holidays. I don't mind some festive sparkle. The boys did a great job."

"I'd like to say that I'm routine patrolling, but I can't. This is an official visit." Blackjack said.

Shawna arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Blackjack nodded seriously. "Yeah. Tomorrow night your presence is requested to accompany myself and the kids on a rolling sweep of the town to ascertain the presence of homes decorated with lights in a holiday theme. After dinner out, of course."

"Dinner out. That sounds like a bribe of sorts there, Chief." Shawna frowned.

Blake kept a straight face. "At Angelique's."

"I guess even I have a price." Shawna remarked. "Done. But dessert better be included or it's your ass, guy."

Blake nodded. "No problem, just don't hit me."

He recalled having to respond to a purse-snatching incident on Black Friday. When he arrived, the perpetrator was writhing on the sidewalk in agony as Shawna stood over him, looking down in annoyance. Nicky Jacobsen was out shopping with her and recounted what happened.

"A lady screamed for her purse Daddy, and we saw him running this way. Miss Shawna nudged me to move then spun around and kicked him face-first into the wall. He bounced off the wall while she spun around the other way and kicked him again. He smacked his face on the fire hydrant then the sidewalk! He can't talk now!" Nicky gushed.

Hospital x-rays confirmed it, his jaw was broken on both sides, along with his nose and most of his teeth had been knocked out. That pretty much served as a deterrent for further holiday crimes of convenience. Nobody wanted to run afoul of the mysterious Shawna Daniels. Many whispered that she was a Fed of some type. Especially Priscilla Herrington.

She tried being her usual self, demanding attention and digging around into Shawna's business. Three hours later; her and the Mayor's credit cards and bank accounts were frozen, licenses were suspended, all household utilities and services turned off. The Mayor practically groveled at Shawna's feet for mercy, but she was having none of it. Many of the town expressed their own hostility at Priscilla's meddling and bullying, having been on the receiving end of it too.

The next morning Bradley Herrington filed for divorce, citing mental and emotional cruelty. Their sons demanding he have custody of them both. Judge Ed Reinhold took the hearing immediately and awarded the divorce. Bradley was granted custody of the boys, the house and one of the cars. Priscilla was awarded a modest alimony, visitation of the boys at their discretion and the other car. Brad and the boys returned home to all services mysteriously restored. Priscilla Herrington resumed her maiden name of Malloray and all but ran home to Wilmington, Delaware in shame. Two weeks later Bradley Herrington was seen in the company of the owner of the local florist shop owner and seemed to be hitting it off.

Danny Jacobsen had finally began to show interest in girls. During a talk with Shawna, he was horrified to hear her recommend he should take some kind of dance lessons. In desperation he went to his father.

Blake sighed. "I'm sorry son, but Shawna is right. Girls like dancing and boys that know how are real prizes to them. Dancing, flowers and movies that make them cry are very important to girls. Remember that movie The Crow? The guy said 'little things meant so much, I always thought they were trivial'. It's true, Danny. Girls are all about the little things. It's important to a girl that a boy they like pays close attention to them. New hairstyles and perfume. A new outfit. They do things like that to get a boy's attention and are happy when he notices. Even more when he likes it."

"Even Marines, Dad?" Danny asked.

Blake nodded firmly. "Especially Marines. We're the best. Because of your Mom, I learned how to dance."

Danny noticed he confided that last part uneasily. "Really?"

"Yeah. You weren't born yet and I was stationed in San Diego. The yearly Marine Corps' Ball. I had a Colonel and he was big on image for his command, professionally and personally. Colonel Cavanaugh said all the time, 'A Marine is the epitome of American Military Excellence; Dedicated, Educated and Cultured. From the time he or she wakes until sleep claims them, do everything to the best ability. Put forth all of yourself into your service, to country and family'. He personally saw to it that all of us knew how to at least waltz and our dress uniforms were immaculate. Your Mom was so happy. It was better than prom." Blake confessed.

Daniel Jacobsen was astounded. "Wow, Dad!"

"Come on, son." Blake stood up. "I'll take you myself. We'll enroll you down at the dance school."

Danny looked in shock. "Dad, the guys'll be all over me! They'll make fun of me!"

"The girls'll will be all over you more, wanting to date you and not them. You'll have your pick, they won't. Girls like boys that get good grades, know how to dance and can name their favorite flowers without reading a sign. Besides, I hear dancing helps athletes with balance and coordination." Blake replied.

Danny shook his head. "No way am I wearing tights and stuff, Dad."

"You don't. I don't mean ballet. I mean ballroom. Like on tv." Blake informed him. "You can wear jeans or slacks."

That settled the argument and they went. Twice per week, Danny had an hour long dance lesson. Nicky had been signed up as well and learned as his partner. Eventually the two were switched with two others that were of their ages and the pairings were even better.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Shawna sat in the passenger seat, while the kids sat in the back of Blake's personal SUV as they drove around. He was even out of uniform, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Casually they meandered the streets looking at the various homes with lights. Finally they went to the town square for the city's tree lighting. The Mayor made a very brief speech and turned to a local girl-scout who happily pushed the button, turning on the tree lights. An hour later it started to snow again so people made their way home.

At Shawna's house, the four drank hot chocolate in the living room as a fire blazed away in the fireplace.

Blake stood up, reached into his pocket to withdraw a small box then went down on one knee in front of her.

"Shawna, we've spent quite a bit of time together. I enjoy your company, as do the kids. I admire you and look forward to seeing you everyday. I would like, very much, to have you in our lives and be part of yours. Would you marry me?" Blake asked and opened the box to reveal an engagement ring.

Shawna smiled then looked over to the kids. "Do you approve?"

Danny simply nodded, while Nicky smiled and answered. "Yes Ma'am!"

"Then yes, I will." Shawna replied to Blake and held out her left hand.

After slipping the ring on her finger they kissed. Shawna invited them to move in with her, as her house was much bigger than Blake's father-in-law's house. The next weekend they moved in with her. On Monday morning, Blake received an email from the Commandant of the Marine Corps, General(four stars) Robert Neller. His presence was requested to report in person to a location in Washington. No reply necessary.

Blake pulled in and parked at a very plain looking office building and went inside. It didn't appear to be military at all and rode the elevator up. When he got off and inquired with a receptionist, he was directed to an office.

"Good morning, Chief Jacobsen." The secretary greeted. "Go right in."

Blake nodded. "Thank you."

He knocked anyway and entered the office.

A formidable man, sitting behind a desk, looked up. "Come in and have a seat."

Blake sat down. "Excuse my confusion, Sir, I was told by Commandant Neller to report here."

"Yes. I'm Paul Dannigan. Shawna works for me." Dannigan stated. "She informed me of your proposal. Congratulations."

Blake nodded. "Thank you, Sir. Is that why I'm here?"

"Correct. I won't waste time, Jacobsen. I do approve of the relationship, but there are some things you need to know." Dannigan said.

"I'm listening." Blake replied.

Dannigan began. "I'm aware that you know that her real name is Shawna Davies and the Daniels name is her official cover. I won't tell you the name of this agency, but I will say that much of her work is classified. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, Sir. I understand Need-To-Know. I'm fairly certain now, that you know my history." Blake said.

Dannigan nodded. "I knew all about you right after you met her. I liked what I saw. Good Marine, better man. Shawna has no family of her own anymore, all her connections are professional and social. Have you any questions?"

"Sir, she confided that she is a post-operative transgender woman. I had no idea otherwise, but it makes no difference to me personally. Just clarifying that." Blake stated.

Dannigan gave a look of approval. "Glad you feel that way. She had asked about confiding that to you. I gave my approval. As I said; good Marine, better man. For the public, I will be referred to as her uncle. Only you are to know my real position. Later on, your children can be made aware of the truth. Acceptable?"

Blake nodded. "Yes Sir. I do have one question. Those teens that were in Belder, were you behind that?"

"I was. They were housed there until a better facility was available. They have all been relocated and the scrutiny is back down to your level. Your diligent duty is commended, but can't be made public. A grant is being made to your department as a quiet thanks." Dannigan answered.

Blake accepted that. "Much appreciated. I know now, I should be addressing you by a rank. May I know it?"

"Major, since you asked. Army. As to what exactly I do; let's just say that I handle resolutions." Dannigan replied then handed him a card.

Blake saw only a toll-free number on the card. No name, organization or even insignia. "I take it, this number only works once?"

"Correct. And only from a number in your name or Shawna's landline. Do I need to state the obvious?" Dannigan asked.

Blake shook his head. "No, Major. Only in the event of her injury and she can not contact you on her own."

"That and you, yourself, are vulnerable. Your children will be watched over by us. Your father-in-law as well, if need be." Dannigan said flatly.

Blake was surprised at that. "I'm a bit shocked to hear that. Thank you, Major."

"I take care of my own. You, by extension, are now one. Madison is my secretary and one of my subordinates is named Kimberly. You may not get me directly, but they can see to your needs. Any questions?" Dannigan asked.

Blake nodded. "One, Major. Will you be attending our wedding?"

"I will. Somebody has to walk her down the aisle." Dannigan smirked.

Blake stood up to leave and suddenly noticed a portrait of a ballerina on the wall. "Is that Lyssa Kordenay?"

"Yes it is. You like ballet?" Dannigan asked.

Blake replied. "My daughter does. Lyssa Kordenay is her idol."

"Shawna is acquainted with her, so don't be surprised if she wants to invite her as well. Maybe you could have it be a surprise for her." Dannigan remarked.

Blake smiled. "Nicky would be over moon at that. I'll keep it under my hat. Good day, Major. Thank you for seeing me."

 

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Chapter 2

Christmas was a week away and things were quiet. It was now common knowledge around town that Blake and Shawna were engaged. The date of the ceremony would be in April and held locally. As neither were religious, it would be held in the local garden with the reception at the nearby AmVets Hall. Blake sat in the kitchen of Shawna's house having lunch on Monday, the kids were in school and not due to be off until Friday since Christmas day was on the following Monday.

"Chief! Are you available? Emergency!" His radio announced.

Blake keyed his mic. "I'm here. What's the problem?"

"Reports of shots fired at 827 Hickory!" The Dispatcher said frantically.

"On my way!" Blake was now worried as he got up and said to himself. "Howard Matthews! That crazy asshole!"

"What's his story?" Shawna asked.

Blake answered angrily. "He's our local nut. Anti-authority, doomsday, paranoid and armed. Word is, he may have modified weapons."

Shawna bolted up. "I'm going with you!"

She grabbed her pistol belt from her study, along with a leather jacket and black duffel on the way out.

"You need a vest." Blake pointed out.

Shawna shrugged into the jacket. "This has a ballistic rating. Let's go. You lead, I'm your back-up."

Blake nodded as they got into his patrol unit. "Thanks."

With lights and siren, it took them minutes to get to the location. Two other units were already there with officers crouched behind the front ends for cover. At the end of the street Blake had cut the siren and came in quietly.

"What's the story, Mark?" Blake asked.

Mark Hempner gave an aggravated look. "That dumb-ass, Howard, shot the guy on the porch through the damn door! We can't even get to him to see if he's alive or not!"

"Olivia next door said the guy was going door-to-door for the Salvation Army shelter. I called and confirmed it. His name is Clarence Gilyard, moved here six months ago." Bryan Kirkland added. "I tried to go up to the porch, fucker shot at me! I even announced who I was, by name!"

Blake swore then reached into the patrol unit and got on the loudspeaker. "Howard! This is Chief Blake Jacobsen!"

That was all Blake could announce. The house occupant let loose with auto-fire from an assault rifle, making them all take cover.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Blake swore from behind the vehicle.

Shawna joined them, crouching down. "AR-15. You want my help?"

After another stream of bullets hitting the vehicle Blake nodded. "YES!"

Shawna reached into the bag and pulled two smoke grenades. She pulled the pin and threw them, one by one, into the yard. Dark blue smoke began to block the front of the house. More auto-fire erupted. The four were already moving though. They were coming in at angles to avoid direct fire. Shawna located the window being used to shoot from and pitched in a flash-bang. She had counted down her throw and it went off just inside the window. The gunner held down the trigger spraying wildly.

Bryan checked the man on the porch and called out. "Dead!"

Blake was kicking in the door then took cover. "Leave him there. We deal with this asshole first!"

Shawna peeked around then led the way in, her HK USPs at the ready. Shawna took the right wall of the foyer and Blake on the left. Mark was behind Blake and Bryan was behind Shawna. Shawna waved Bryan back a few paces. She reached a doorway and held position. Mark's foot scattered some empty shell-casings on the hard floor. Immediately shots came through the right wall into the left. Bryan dove back out of the line, Mark and Blake both yelled and went to the floor. Shawna spun in and fired both pistols, getting a scream of pain.

The gunner dropped to one knee and swung his rifle toward her, only to be shot into each shoulder, causing the rifle to be dropped. He swore at her and tried to pick the rifle back up.

"Check on Blake and Mark!" Shawna ordered Bryan as she advanced on the middle-aged man and shoved him to the floor with her boot. "DOWN!"

"I'M A SOVEREIGN CITIZEN! GET OFF MY LAND!" Matthews bellowed.

Shawna holstered her left pistol and began pulling handguns off him. "You murdered an unarmed man over nothing and attempted to murder three local police officers and Federal Agent! That 'sovereign citizen' crap won't save your ass! BLAKE? MARK?"

Blake came in. "I'm ok. In my vest. Mark got a crease across his left thigh, but not serious. Paramedics on the way."

"I'LL KILL ALL YOU BASTARDS AND THAT BITCH TOO! SOVEREIGN TERRITORY! YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY!" Howard swore.

Blake fell to the urge and kicked him in the shoulder, getting a scream. "DUMB-FUCK! You have the right remain silent! Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in court! You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one, one will be appointed! Understand your rights?"

"FUCK YOU!" Matthews spat.

Blake growled. "You're under arrest for murder and attempted murder of three police officers and a Federal Agent!"

Matthews continued to spew obscenities and threats, even tried to fight as the paramedics worked on him. Finally they sedated him to get him under control.

Blake waved off being checked out. "See to Mark first."

"He's being taken to the hospital, Chief." The paramedic replied.

Blake nodded. "I took one to the vest. It hit my plate, so I'm good. Shawna?"

"I'm clean. I have to get another jacket though." Shawna remarked.

Blake sighed. "Send me a bill."

"Forget it. No big deal." Shawna replied.

"Chief? Coroner's here." Bryan called out from the front door. "Crime scene techs too."

The house was processed. It took over three hours to find all the guns and secure them, numbering over a hundred and thousands or rounds of ammunition. There were over twenty assault rifles, all illegally modified to fully-automatic. Three more were in the process of conversion. There were several pipe-bomb IEDs as well. The local news' crews had a field day. Shawna slipped away unnoticed, driving Mark's patrol unit back to the station and went home, arriving just in time for the kids to come in from school. Both became alarmed when they heard about the events.

"It's ok. I had your Dad's back. We're both fine." Shawna reassured them.

That calmed Daniel down some, but Nicky was still clingy to her and reluctantly let go to do her homework. Dinner that night was subdued.

 

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Chapter 3

"Big excitement." Kimberly commented over the video conference the next morning.

Shawna rolled her eyes. "Just another nut-job, Kim. How's things down there?"

"We had our own drama after everybody got back from Europe. The bunch Lyssa used to be with, came down. It didn't go well, but nothing to worry about." Kimberly stated.

That got Shawna's attention. "THOSE guys? What's the story on that?"

"In-person only. You coming down for the holidays or staying up there?" Kimberly asked.

Shawna smiled. "Up here. With my fiance and the kids."

"Jacobsen?" Kimberly asked excitedly.

Shawna was still smiling. "I had them move in with me. It's official. You're all invited and the Major is giving me away, as my 'uncle'."

Shawna gave her the date and Kimberly made note of it. "All that can, will be there!"

"Where?" Krystel asked, coming into view.

Shawna grinned. "My wedding. Maid of Honor!"

"FOR REAL?" Krystel exclaimed and got a nod. "OF COURSE! What about Tiffany?"

"I'll tell her tomorrow, but she may not be able to come. You know Lyssa, she'll come, but would rather one of you two be honored." Shawna answered.

Lyssa came into view. "That's right. Congratulations, Shawna. I'm glad you have somebody. He's the local police chief, right?"

"Yeah. Blake Jacobsen, former-Marine, two kids. His little girl adores you." Shawna informed her.

Krystel laughed. "You could give her a set of dance-wear from your new signature line as a present."

"You have a line?" Shawna asked in surprise.

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I signed the papers yesterday. Too good of a deal to pass up. Quality is top-grade. Repetto is doing it. They're in Paris and I already wear their designs anyway."

"That's cool though." Shawna commented then looked serious. "Wait. What does that mean for you though?"

Lyssa sighed. "I'm coming out of the field. Unless it's hardcore, Tiffany is up. This is choice, mine."

Shawna sat back. "Wow. Never thought I'd hear you say that. I mean, not unless you really got worked."

"The twins are getting to the stage that they need me more, personally. I'm not fully done, but it's a good idea for Tiffany to take over more operations. She's been ready, time for her to take the lead." Lyssa said without reservation.

"Oh. Hey, where's the fun-bunch?" Shawna asked.

Kimberly answered. "Fort Belvoire. The kids are taking tests for school and the adults are shopping in D.C. minus Bobby and Hunter. They're with the girls. Mindy is in Freeport, at school."

"Freeport?" Shawna asked.

"Kasey and Kristine are finished with actual school. They're taking the tests for their diplomas. Mindy is safe to go to a real school now. She needs to socialize." Kimberly said.

Shawna nodded. "Yeah. She does. Kasey and Kristine going off on missions leaves her alone. She does need to be with kids her own age. Is she ok?"

"She's getting straight-A's and made the girls' soccer team. We even enrolled her at a ballet studio there. She loves it, but still enjoys lessons with Maria or Lyssa every morning before school." Kimberly said proudly.

Shawna smiled. "I'm glad. She deserves a normal childhood. Or at least, as close as can be."

"She's happy. That's the best we can hope for." Lyssa said.

Shawna sighed. "Yeah. Well, that's all for me. Unless you have something?"

Kimberly checked then shook her head. "No. Other than flight time, you're clear until the Major gives you something."

"I'll get some Saturday. I need to log some rotor time. The Major got a seized Bell for me. I'll take the kids for a ride while I log time. Out." Shawna said.

Kimberly nodded. "Out."

The conference closed and Shawna went for a fresh coffee. The rest of the week went routine; Friday on the range at Andrews and Saturday she logged flight time with the helicopter. Danny and Nicky enjoyed the ride.

 

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Chapter 4

Sunday was Christmas eve. After the kids finally went to sleep, Shawna opened the hidden door for under the stairs and brought the presents out with Blake. The basement was in two sections and the main access was a door in the hallway between the kitchen and living room. A smaller access was under the stairs, but that was concealed and locked as the section held weapons and other mission supplies. Not even Blake knew that was there.

They sat in front of the fireplace for a little while afterward.

"Shawna, do you want to use a surrogate to have a child of your own?" Blake asked.

Shawna didn't hesitate. "Nope. I didn't even bother with saving anything to do that."

Blake looked surprised. "You didn't? Why not?"

"Both my parents had congenital conditions. I carry it. I won't suffer from it, but I would pass it on. They both died young. Dad, while I was in high school. Mom went five years later, while I was in the service. I beat the bullet, but only slightly. I'll gamble with my own life, but never somebody that can't choose on their own. No kids from me. I'm more than happy to help you finish raising yours, that's enough for me." Shawna said with no sadness at all, it was the actual truth.

Shortly thereafter, they went to bed. Several hours later, Shawna awoke, to hear footsteps going down the stairs and smiled.

"Kids are up." Shawna said.

Blake groaned. "Already?"

Shawna laughed gently. "You think they'd sleep in today?"

"WOW!" Could be heard downstairs.

Shawna laughed as Blake grunted. "No way in Hell."

They both got up, Shawna put on a satin robe over her gown while Blake simply pulled on lounge pants and t-shirt. They went downstairs to find Danny and Nicky already separating the presents into piles. The kids then tore into the gifts. Both were thrilled while the holiday haul. After all the gifts were unwrapped, Shawna beckoned Nicky over and held up a slim, square gift.

Nicky unwrapped it and saw a blank DVD in a clear case. "What is it?"

"Something very special. On Christmas eve, in Moscow, there is a one-time production of The Nutcracker. Only the very elite can go. The tickets are extremely expensive and only the best perform." Shawna told her.

Nicky looked at the disc. "Wow! How'd you get it? Who danced?"

"I have a friend. As a favor to me, I got this. You're going to be VERY surprised." Shawna smiled.

Nicky held it out. "Can we watch it now?"

"Breakfast first, ballet after." Shawna answered.

Nicky pouted. "Ok."

After breakfast Nicky loaded the DVD and sat between Blake and Shawna. When the Sugar Plum Fairy appeared, it took a couple of minutes then Nicky pointed to the television.

"THAT'S TIFFANY! SHE'S NEW!" Nicky exclaimed.

Shawna chuckled. "Her name is Tiffany Davareaux. They call her 'Cold Shadow' Tiffany. She's been training at Bolshoi."

Nicky grabbed the remote, backed the video to the start of her dance then sat on the floor to watch closely.

"So this is something really hard to get?" Blake asked quietly.

Shawna nodded. "Five grand per ticket. This was a BIG favor. Only twenty people outside Moscow have seen this. Not even the U.S. Ambassador went to the theater."

Nicky clapped and pointed. "KATYA!"

"You made her really happy." Blake commented.

After it ended, Nicky was still smiling. "That was so great! I just wish I could have seen Lyssa dance the Nutcracker."

"She didn't perform this year. Maybe next year she will." Shawna answered.

Nicky sighed. "She had babies so that cuts down her shows. It's probably hard to travel with babies."

"True. I'm sure you'll get to see her dance though." Shawna encouraged.

Shawna's cellphone rang and she laughed at the display number then answered.

" Hello there, super-star. Your ears must have been burning." Shawna greeted in Russian.

Tiffany asked. "You must have just got through watching it."

"Yes, we did. It was fantastic." Shawna complimented.

Blake looked over. "Your source in Moscow?"

Shawna nodded, putting the phone on speaker and beckoned Nicky then held out the phone. "Nicky, say 'thank you'."

"Thank you for the video!" Nicky repeated.

A feminine voice came back. "You're very welcome Nicky. My first time dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy, but not my last!"

Nicky's jaw dropped and she looked at Shawna in pure shock. "Th-that's Tiffany? Really, really her?"

Tiffany affirmed. "That's right. What did you think of it?"

Nicky gushed her praise for what seemed like several minutes until she ran out of breath.

"Glad you enjoyed it. Shawna, you owe me BIG. Merry Christmas!" Tiffany signed off.

Blake asked. "So just how do you know her?"

"Met a couple of years back. We talked a bit." Shawna said airily.

The rest of the holiday week went quietly. New Year's Eve they all sat along the waterfront with most of the town to watch the fireworks. Blake and Shawna kissed as the first shell lit up the sky at the stroke of midnight.

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 9: Iron Dolphin Book 3 pt1   The last time Krystel and   Tammy were together, London   was exciting. Now it's   Tammy's turn to travel WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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Preceding installment:
Tamara's Tales Shakespear Takes a Break

 
 
 

'What does Krystel have in store for me?' had been Tammy's question.

"To learn, the secret to life." Krystel replied with a smile.

Tammy looked at her confusion. "What?"

Krystel had spotted Tammy coming from Baggage Claim and smiled as she waved her over. Tammy was surprised, Krystel had taken her passport and handed it back a second later with stamps and directed her out of the terminal. A taxi took them over to a hotel called Bell Channel Inn.

"Pink?" Tammy asked when they got out of the cab.

Krystel winked. "Welcome to the Caribbean."

At the desk, Tammy checked in. She only needed to fill-out the registration and have the main page of her passport photocopied.

"There you are Miss Smart and enjoy your stay." The desk-clerk said.

Krystel picked up Tammy's suitcase. "Let's go."

Tammy turned to follow and was immediately confused. Krystel was leading her out, not up.

Outside Krystel led the way to the parking lot and stopped at a new model Jeep Grand Cherokee.

"Kerri, er, Krystel; where are we going?" Tammy asked.

Krystel set Tammy's suitcase in the back. "Oh, you're just registered here. You'll be staying with us. Hop in."

Tammy climbed into the passenger seat. Krystel backed out then drove away.

"Freeport is a hub. We stay on a private island. It's not far away by helo." Krystel explained as she drove. "Oh, we have to make one quick stop though."

A few minutes later the jeep pulled in at a school. A cluster of girls waited out front and one broke away when Krystel honked.

"Hi Aunt Kryssie." The young teen greeted as she climbed into the backseat then asked. "Are you the Scottish girl, Tammy?"

"Yes, I am." Tammy replied.

The girl smiled back. "I'm Mindy."

Krystel drove away. "What's the word?"

"Got in trouble." Mindy pouted.

Krystel smirked in the rearview mirror. "Yeah? What'd you do?"

Mindy sighed. "FUBAR is not an acceptable assessment of a classmate's grade average."

Tammy snorted and Krystel laughed.

"I had to spend Break writing lines on the board." Mindy complained.

Krystel shook her head. "They let you off easy. Guess who won't."

"Mama and Daddy." Mindy groaned then snapped up. "NO! Don't tell uncle Carl, PLEASE!"

"Forget it kiddo. You're nailed and everybody gets their shot." Krystel stated.

Tammy looked back and asked. "How bad will it be?"

"Mama'll make me clean the house to inspection. Daddy'll make me wash the Bell. Uncle Eddie'll make me degrease some engines. Uncle Carl won't let me go sailing. Uncle Rodrick will have me search around the coves for an anchor and bring it up. Aunt Lyssa'll work me in her studio or I have to babysit the twins." Mindy listed.

Krystel prompted. "And me?"

"No Princessland for a week." Mindy groused.

"Princessland?" Tammy asked.

Mindy explained. "Princessland is an online world. I talk to girls all over the world in it. No going into it is how aunt Kryssie grounds me."

"I see." Tammy said, understanding now.

Krystel drove into a hangar and parked. Mindy bailed out, with her backpack. Tammy followed suit and followed Krystel, who retrieved her suitcase. They all walked out and stopped. A helicopter was descending in front of them. The rotors slowed and stopped. A groundman drove over with a tractor pulling a trailer with a tank on it. It was marked for fuel and began refueling the helicopter.

Tammy pointed to the pilot, wearing a full flight-suit and helmet with the visor down. "Isn't he a bit over-dressed."

"Daddy always wears that." Mindy commented. "You'll get used it."

"Darth Vader-guy." Tammy remarked, mostly to herself.

Mindy giggled. "Everybody calls him that, a lot."

Krystel arched an eyebrow. "Something get your attention?"

Tammy asked. "Didn't he turn over the Epic to the ferry-pilot?"

"Yeah. He did." Krystel chuckled. "She describe him?"

Tammy nodded. "Darth Vader-guy, she called him."

The pilot waved them out, Mindy streaked toward the helicopter while Krystel and Tammy walked casually. After take-off, Tammy heard the pilot.

"Take the controls." The pilot said to Mindy.

Mindy answered. "I have the controls."

Tammy couldn't resist and looked out the window. There was no denying it, the view was beautiful. From altitude, she was looking down on scattered patches of paradise. Fewer and fewer island were coming into view. Then the helicopter began to descend.

"Tower, RamAir on approach." The pilot called out.

"Copy, RamAir. Clear for final approach."

An island came into view and Tammy immediately spotted a long runway and hangars.

"Is this an actual base?" Tammy asked.

Krystel wagged her hand. "More or less. There's a lot we can do here."

The helicopter landed and man came out. The wheels were chocked and they disembarked. Tammy followed Krystel into the middle, and largest, hangar. They were met by a strawberry blonde woman coming down a set of stairs. Tammy glanced around, there were two other helicopters she was familiar with. The shocker was an actual gunship and some kind of fighter jet towards the back of the hangar.

"Hi Tammy. I'm Kimberly Lando." Kim introduced herself and offered her hand.

Tammy shook hands. "Pleased to meet you, Tamara Smart. You wouldn't happen to be; the Kimberly that sent me a text about the registration?"

"That was me, just call me Kim. Sorry about the confusion, a miscommunication. Come to the conference room and we'll go over the schedule." Kim said and led the way.

Tammy walked in and looked around. "Is this all about me?"

Krystel nodded and pointed to a chair. "That's right. Have a seat and we'll go over it."

Tammy took the seat and gave the two women her attention.

"Now. We sent you an itinerary. In truth, you actually will learn those. You'll be learning other things as well. When you leave here, you'll have some literature and discs in support of the executive courses." Kim stated.

Tammy asked. "Just out of curiosity, is there really an Elegant Executive service?"

"Oh sure. We own it. There actually is a seminar going on right now, for 12 women. It's mixed in with a vacation package so they get a full two weeks. They just won't be out here and some of your activities will be way different." Krystel smirked.

Tammy looked at the large white dry-erase board and listened. The way they had things scheduled almost down to the minute, it seemed this wasn't the first time they had done something like this.

"I'm surprised all this was put together in so short of time. Will I get any sleep?" Tammy asked.

Krystel laughed. "Oh you'll get sleep. It just won't seem like enough. This is pretty much Saturation Training. You're a sponge and we have a pitcher of liquid. We pour and pour until you can't absorb anymore."

"I see. I get the impression you all have done this before." Tammy remarked.

Kim nodded. "We have, but you're getting a seriously abridged course. You won't be going into jungles and deserts, for example. Let's make this clear Tammy. We're not expecting you to go on Assault Operations. To give you a clue, you will be a listening post. You'll perform tasks such as investigations and surveillance. That's the bulk of what you do for us."

"So, I really will be a spy?" Tammy surmised.

Krystel nodded. "Yeah Tammy. You got into kill or be killed situations and you did what you needed to, but it doesn't sit well with you. The higher-up's aren't any help. Too many think a uniform and firm command have an affect. Doesn't work that way. There are times when bullets, blades are the only option. Not always, but those times are there."

Kim tapped the file in her hand. "You have inside knowledge about finance, nice. You need other skills too. We'll help with that. You are set up in a way. Realty. You can use property interests as your way in. You also have banking connections, that will provide other ways in. You also picked up piloting, that is another way."

"Learning the diving skills are also another way to be where I can be useful." Tammy guessed.

Krystel tch-ed at her. "Wrong useful, Tammy. The most critical party you need to be useful to; is yourself. Remember how I said Wade didn't see your business as important?"

"Yes." Tammy replied. "You said that it is."

Kim nodded. "And she's right. It is critical. It gives you a life with purpose that is easily explained. I won't lie to you. One day that purpose will change. You won't be able to provide help. When that day comes; and it WILL come, you will be able to go on. You will be able to go on, your way."

Tammy got it now. She wouldn't be disposable. Expendable. There would be light at the end of the tunnel, light not from an oncoming train.

"Alright. I like this idea. How do I go about it? All this, will help me get there?" Tammy asked and pointed to the schedule on the board.

Kim sat down beside her. "Yes. Think of this; as a collection of tickets at the beginning of a new road. With these passes, you will get through the checkpoints and toll booths along the way."

"I see. I believe I understand it now. So, when do we start?" Tammy asked.

Kim got up and tapped the board. "First thing in the morning. That said, there are a couple of things to be aware of."

"First thing; that's not a pet." Kim said and pointed toward the door.

Tammy looked and saw a black dog standing there.

Kim looked at the dog. "Warlock. Trete zurück."

The dog sat, ears up and forward.

"I take it, he is a some type of service dog?" Tammy guessed.

"Warlock is a tactical dog. Anti-personnel and anti-ordinance. Even if you speak his language, he won't obey you. If you encounter him, freeze. Let him investigate you and when he's satisfied, he'll move on. There are residences here, respect their privacy. Enter under permission. South of the runway is a range. A red flag means the range is live. When the runway is in use, an announcement will be made. Anything else comes up, you'll be told. That's the safety briefing. Welcome to Ram's Rock Island." Kim said and smiled.

Another command was given and the dog approached Tammy and gave her a thorough sniffing. Satisfied, he wandered out.

Krystel snerked. "Now he knows who you are. He'll check you out randomly. But if he growls, leave the area you're in."

"That wraps it up. You'll be staying with Krystel. The rest of the evening, is yours." Kim said and went out.

Krystel stood up. "Come on, let's get you settled in and then get ready for dinner."

 

~o~O~o~

 

"For the love of God; what have I gotten into?" Tammy groaned in the shower.

Krystel woke her at five in the morning and handed her a clutch of clothing. High cut shorts, racer top and cross-trainer shoes. Tammy soon found herself on a bicycle riding laps of the runway and trying to keep up. After the ride Tammy followed Krystel on running laps then popped the shoes off and dove into the oncoming surf. Tammy had no idea how far Krystel had her swim. All she knew was that Krystel had been alongside her the entire time and as Tammy stumbled from the surf; revealed Tammy had biked five miles, ran four and swam two.

"Not bad for day One. Now for a shower and breakfast, then we get started." Krystel said, walking confidently, but looked over. "You might consider shaving some more. You're going to be in the water more than just for PT."

Tammy did just that. Taking more time in the shower than usual. After she dried her hair, she looked out of the spare bedroom and glanced to see what her friend wore. A simple flare-skirt and sleeveless shell, with sandals that had a heel to them. Tammy dug through her clothes and found a casual dress and sandals then dressed. After breakfast, they left for the main hangar.

"Morning." Kimberly greeted, clipboard in hand.

Tammy returned the greeting. "Good morning."

"Not regretting your visit already, are you?" Kim smirked.

Krystel laughed as she poured a cup of coffee. "She only thinks she is! Help yourself, Tammy."

Tammy poured her own, sipped it and looked at them both like traitors as she choked it down. "What IS this?"

"If it's sludge, Rodrick made it. Crunchy would be Carl. Strong enough to pull your guts inside out, Lonestar. If it melts the cup, Eddie made it and what we can't drink, he uses as a degreaser." Kim remarked then sipped. "This is a second run, so no idea. To the conference room, let's get to it."

Tammy followed them into the conference room. Within minutes, Tammy was being shown examples of raw intelligence and the easiest ways to find it. After that, ways to exploit that type of intel to gather more in-depth. This was deemed 'Working Intel'.

"Working Intelligence is information that leads you to bigger and more important things. Actionable Intelligence is exactly that. Information that can be used to take Action." Kim explained.

This lead to another half hour of lecture with diagrams, including how to prepare a briefing packet. Kim excused herself for a few minutes while Tammy studied the material.

"Kim, What is RUMINT? Er...Kim?" Tammy asked then saw she was alone, until she looked lower. "Hello, dog."

The Tactical dog sat looking at Tammy, but didn't respond to her voice. Kimberly walked in a moment later.

"Something wrong?" Kim asked.

Tammy nodded to the dog. "I looked over and instead of you, I saw him."

"Oh. He was waiting for me." Kim said then looked to the dog. "Warlock. Suche. Gehen."

The dog immediately bolted from the room with a growl. A phone rang also.

Kim picked up a cordless handset off the table and headed for the door. "Excuse me, I have to take this. Would you mind picking up the bomb for me, Warlock will show it to you. RamAir Charters."

"Sure. Wait. Did you say 'bomb'?" Tammy sputtered then heard the dog barking aggressively in the hangar and rushed to go after him.

She found the dog crouched under the nose of an amphibious plane and barking at the nose-gear. Tammy crawled under and looked around then found a bundle of two blocks marked Semtex. There didn't seem to be anything else, just the explosive. No timer counting down or other electronics she assumed it should have. The dog continued to bark adamantly.

Tammy looked at him. "Okay, okay! I see it, but can I just grab it?"

A voice yelled out. "Hey! Just get it off there. He'll shut up then!"

Tammy pulled on the bundle and it simply came away. The dog woofed then walked off. Tammy crawled out from under the plane and went back to the conference room. At the table she looked at the bundle. It seemed to only be two packages of explosives. She had been focused and startled when a cup was set in front of her.

"Hey there." A rather tanned blonde haired man said then pointed to the bundle. "Checking out the mutt's toy?"

"Toy? I thought it was a bomb." Tammy said.

The man shook his head. "Not really. The explosives are real, but that's all it is. He smells that, not the other bomb stuff, so we don't bother. It's what he does. So you're Tammy."

Tammy eyed him. "Does everybody know who I am?"

"Yeah. We're all teaching you something. I'm Carl. I'll teach you sailing and probably oversee your diving." Carl said.

Tammy asked. "Are you the one who sent me the diving equipment?"

Carl nodded. "Yeah. Better me than Mindy, everything would be pink or purple if she had a say in it. Mares is a good line and very popular. You can get it serviced anywhere pretty much."

Krystel came in with good news, it was time for lunch. It consisted of salads with shrimp, but no wine. She discovered why, right after. Tammy found herself in a colorful dive-suit, with rebreather, and wading into oncoming surf. Krystel and Carl wanted to get a feel for Tammy's previous dive training. Tammy did have to admit, diving in these tropical waters was quite pleasant, compared to the cold waters back home. She was amazed at the fish and other sea creatures. When their gauges edged to the mark, Krystel signaled her to return to the beach. Just as the first warning caught her attention, they breached surface.

"That was great!" Tammy said as soon as she pulled the respirator from her mouth.

Krystel smiled. "Liked it?"

"I will admit, I'm jealous you have such beautiful water to dive in. You would have to drag me out." Tammy laughed.

They went over to the hangar and rinsed off themselves and their gear. Tammy learned fast how to maintain and store the gear. Krystel and Carl showed ways that were quick and methodical, yet very thorough. Carl had dove as well and brought in a bag of lively contributions to dinner. Mindy was back from school by then. She checked over Carl's catch then selected one of the lobsters and immediately began chasing after Tammy with it, making snarky jokes about it.

"WAIT TAMMY! YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN, IT'S NOT PERSONAL YOU WANT IT FOR DINNER! IT'S TOTALLY CLICKED OFF!" Mindy giggled.

Tammy dodged and ran the other way. "Now's not the situation for SNAPPY remarks!"

After the bit of play, Mindy tossed the lobster back to Carl and ran off to go home.

Tammy had to shake her head. This place was nothing like she had imagined. It was both serious and fun. That was when she stopped.

"Ut-oh." Krystel said.

Carl leaned back against the water tank. "Somebody havin' an epiphany?"

"None of this is like I thought. I worried that I'd either be bored to death or miserable." Tammy admitted.

Carl shook his head. "I'm leaving this to a superior officer. Lieutenant Commander; she's ALL yours, Ma'am."

Carl went off with his bag, leaving Tammy and Krystel alone.

"Did he just call you a Lieutenant Commander? As in, Naval Officer?" Tammy asked.

"Yes Tammy. I'm not actually in the Navy anymore, but yes, my rank is Lieutenant Commander. My primary is CyberOps and secondary is FieldOps. Let's take a walk." Krystel said.

"I grew up low-middle income. Not religious, not mainline conservative, but close-minded family. Pretty much the only thing I ever did they approved of, was leave. I didn't play sports, so they couldn't brag about me like the other parents. I was a damn good student. I made honor roll and got into computer science. My grades and computer studies earned a scholarship, so I went to college. I wanted to serve. I believe in freedom. Did then, still do now. When I graduated, I joined the Navy with a commission. Not bad for me. The problems happened while I was in college." Krystel told her.

Tammy didn't pay much attention to where they walked, it was along beach, which was pleasant.

Krystel went on. "During college I had a degree of freedom I'd never had before. I indulged it. I got a part-time job that provided me with money and I spent it. On an apartment, clothes, make-up, shoes, getting my ears pierced. The works. Finally I got up the courage to go out. So I did. Had a blast too. There were plenty of places I could go to and be anonymous, so I enjoyed myself. Right before summer break, a friend of mine wrote me a letter. A kid in my high school came out, as gay. Everybody went off the deep end."

Tammy watched their feet making prints in the sand. "Your parents jumped aboard the wagon?"

"Hell no, girl. Those fucks led the charge to run him out of town. Worked too. He left after getting beaten pretty bad. What we call 'a life-altering ass-beating'." Krystel said.

"So what did you do?" Tammy asked.

Krystel laughed. "Broke the law. I was already a hacker by the time I hit high school. Now that I was in college, I was much more skilled. Took me all of an hour to find everybody in on it and another two to get into the bank. By morning, my apocalypse was done. Everybody was broke, in debt, credit shot to fuck all and most bills overdue. I felt GLORIOUS in my vengeance!"

Tammy was enthralled now. "Did it work? Were you able to get away with it?"

"Of course, and yes. Well, mostly yes. Turned out, I wasn't the only one moving around cyberspace that night. My preparations caught somebody else's attention. They watched me and were impressed. The next afternoon, I was called for a meeting in the computer lab. It took all of two minutes for me to know what was up, and another three to agree to training. Within thirty minutes, I was on a summer course. That was my checkpoint: Zulu. No return. I had talent and it could be cultivated. That started my journey down that electronic rabbit hole straight to Cyber-warfare. I only glanced back once. A letter 'home'. I wrote of disgust, outrage and told them they would never see or hear from me again." Krystel said.

"Krystel, how deep do rabbit-holes go?" Tammy asked.

"Oh, that's the question if there ever was one. No two are the same. As for me; I've neither hit bottom, nor fell out the other end. Only I'm not falling, I'm diving. I'll go as far as I can. I want to." Krystel said proudly.

Tammy looked over. "And you're happy?"

"Happy? Girl, I've done things the kids I grew up with never dreamed about in their wildest imagination! I've stormed Cartel compounds in the jungle, chased smugglers across the desert, wore a five-grand designer gown in Milan, played cards and won against an Arabian Prince, swam under an ice covered Russian harbor and had a fire-fight in a coffee shop! I've even jumped from twenty-nine thousand feet to land on the top of a ship as the lead element of an Assault group to take it over. Piracy on the high seas took on a whole NEW dimension on that one! Hard to imagine how it can get any better." Krystel laughed.

Tammy thought on it then asked. "Love? Do you have someone?"

"I have dates, but nobody full-time. I go to Freeport, Key West and Miami. A night, a weekend. Whatever I want. There's always guys that don't have a problem with that. It works for me, I'm not ready to settle down in marriage and have kids. I may never be. If that changes, I know where to look." Krystel smirked.

"Oh." Tammy replied then remembered a couple of comments that didn't make sense. "Wait. Something doesn't set right. You said, in college you spent money on clothes and so on. Also that your family weren't kind to a boy that came out as gay. Krystel, please tell me two plus two..."

"Equals four, not twenty-two. I wasn't born anatomically female, but I wanted to be. This." Krystel said and swept her hands to mean herself. "Part of the recruitment package. Nice perk, huh?"

Tammy gawked. "You're transgender too?"

Krystel laughed. "You started earlier in life than me, but I went more radical than you. Not all of it was easy. I had more work done than you, but I get this, so it's not all bad. Come on, we need to get some dinner."

After dinner, Krystel handed Tammy several pages.

"What is this?" Tammy asked.

Krystel tapped it. "Diet program. It's the one we use after transition. It's how we maintain ourselves."

Tammy read and could't believe it. Some were simple and others were elaborate. Some were even gourmet.

"This does not look anything like some kind of diet." Tammy remarked.

Krystel sat back. "It's not supposed to. You have to actually look into the nutritional values to see it. You can achieve, without appearing to be working. The world of Intel is a world of smoke and mirrors. Make all around you believe what you need them to. You're not a spy. You're not an operative. You work for yourself. You ARE a businesswoman."

"That can dive, fly planes and shoot guns." Tammy snarked.

Krystel smirked at her. "And parachute."

"Oh god, I'm going to learn that too, here?" Tammy asked.

Krystel smiled. "Even if she has to toss your Scottish-Lass ass off the ramp herself, you'll learn to jump. You might even like it."

"She? Who do you mean 'she'?" Tammy asked.

Krystel giggled. "Oh, you'll meet her tomorrow. She'll be teaching you wardrobe and styling too. Just like she taught me."

"So, you went through more of a program than I did." Tammy surmised.

Krystel sipped from her glass. "Two years. Transition and training all at the same time. All Go, no stop. Intense, but it was part of what got me where I am."

Tammy helped with the dishes then went off to relax. Soon enough she was in bed and asleep.

Morning came, and with it was the grueling exercise. It was obvious Krystel added to it. After her shower she dressed similarly to the day before. Tammy began to worry. The weather was warmer than she had thought and her clothes weren't as lightweight as she needed.

"Krystel. I think I have a wardrobe issue." Tammy said during breakfast.

Krystel nodded. "Running out of clothes?"

"My shopping was limited." Tammy admitted.

Krystel waved her off. "We thought that might come up. You'll get squared-away today. You're fine for now."

They finished breakfast, cleaned up and headed out. Tammy was puzzled when Krystel turned away from the hangars. The answer came minutes later when a large house came into view. Krystel stopped at the door and pointed.

"Go on in. You're expected." Krystel said then turned to go. "Enjoy your time with her."

Tammy wondered why Krystel had smiled, but knocked anyway. No answer came, but Tammy let herself in.

"Krystel did say I was expected." Tammy said as she went in.

The oddest sight struck her when she entered the living room. Two toddlers were on a carpet and the black tactical dog was laying down, his mouth open and shaking his head side to side as the children tried to grab at his snout.

"I thought he was dangerous." Tammy remarked.

"Warlock is." A voice said behind her.

Tammy turned and her jaw immediately hit the floor. "YOU?"

"Hi. I'm Lyssa." Lyssa said then smiled. "How about we keep this informal. You don't have to call me MiLady."

"MiLady? Really?" Tammy asked then looked to where Lyssa pointed and saw a shield on the wall, below it a framed document. "This is a Royal Order! Wait. Why is it Black? This can't be real."

"By His Royal Highness, Prince Henry Charles Albert David, under the authority of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary; I am Lady Lyssa Kordenay-Mason. Yes, that is VERY real. Myself, my husband, Kim, Pete, Lonestar, Carl and Eddie were knighted. We have the favour of the Crown." Lyssa smirked. "We're THAT damned good."

Tammy looked over. "Does Sean know?"

Lyssa laughed. "Of course. I'm the reason he met you. I told Krystel where to find him. I taught her, now I teach you. Ready to learn? It's time to play Barbie, little Scottish girl."

When Lyssa pointed past her, Tammy turned to look and saw a rack of clothes and shoes. She knew it didn't require a degree to know they were all in her size. A heartbeat later, she was naked and being dressed. For the next four hours, she put on outfits and applied make-up. Tammy learned business looks that screamed 'corporate hatchet-woman' all the way to 'does she work for a high-echelon escort service'. Then they switched to casuals; dresses, skirt-sets, shorts-sets, pants, jeans, leggings. All with best coordinating tops, blouses and sweaters. Finally came formals and semi-formal wear. Tammy was confused when Lyssa gave her a set of luggage to pack it all away in. The luggage was designer, by Coach.

When Tammy finished, Lyssa smirked. "Now you have appropriate apparel here. We'll send it to you by FedEx after you leave. Time for lunch."

Tammy tried to pay attention, but Lyssa was a whirlwind in the kitchen and had the meal ready in only half an hour. Tammy almost couldn't contain herself, it smelled so appetizing. It was some kind of glazed chicken breast with a wild rice and mixed vegetables. Tammy shook her head and somehow managed to hold in her laughter during the meal. Lyssa was able to slip in bites for herself while feeding the twins. They shifted back and forth from cooperative to combative. After they finished, Lyssa cleaned them off and set them back down to play. Miraculously, there was nothing on her white blouse or pink skirt.

Lyssa noticed the glance over. "Oh, they only go ballistic when you wear dry-clean-only around them. If you can throw it in the washer, they don't care."

"That's funny!" Tammy laughed then turned serious. "May I ask a personal question?"

Lyssa leaned her hip against the back of the couch. "You can ask. Getting an answer is another matter."

"I assume you've been in this secret world a long time? How have you been able to do it; keep the two lives separate?" Tammy asked.

"That's the big question, isn't it? Well, I've been in black-ops almost all my adult life. I just went from one unit to another. Finally, I couldn't go any further. A man showed up and made me an offer. I could go on. But I wanted to go a different path. I became a woman of mystery. I came from nowhere and maintained shadows around me, even when I stood in the spotlight. You never got that chance. You were dangled in the public eye and kept there for all to see. I danced, cat-walked and posed for all to see. When the lights went out; I stalked the darkness invisible to all." Lyssa explained.

Tammy thought about that. Yes, even she had heard of Lyssa Kordenay. The Prima and model. She couldn't believe there was so much more. Like an iceberg, the visible part was pretty, but the unseen was dangerous.

Lyssa shook her head. "Tammy, things went way out of hand with you. It's not your fault. Bureaucrats will always make excuses to marginalize costs. Most have never had to undertake risks themselves. Pay attention, because this pertains to you. Under this flag, you won't be treated like that. All of us, every single one, has faced the same and greater risks than you. I've faced the worst there is. I did it alone, Tammy. I did it for more reasons than I can explain. I can say this. The greatest thing I ever did; was for freedom, justice and safe conduct. That sounds idealistic. Maybe even romantic, but you'd be wrong to think so. You will never be truly alone from now on. We take care of our own. You are one of our own now, Tamara Smart. Today's lesson is over, on your way. The luggage will be sent over later."

Tammy took that as an order. An order to be immediately carried out. She had never met someone who could be charming and frightening at the same time. The really odd part, was that she felt reassured too. How could she do all that? At the hangar, Tammy's eyes popped out.

"GOOD CHRIST, KRYSTEL, YOU'RE TOOLED UP!" Tammy exclaimed at the sight of her friend in a one-piece black suit and weapons rig.

Krystel laughed and tossed a bag to her. "Catch. Change in there, it's fun time."

Tammy went into the same room they used to change into the wetsuits. In the bag was an outfit almost identical to Krystel's. A pair of knee-high boots were included. Tammy put it all on and came out.

"Not bad." A man's muffled voice commented, passing behind her.

Tammy turned and saw the pilot in full flight gear, Lonestar. "Thank you."

Tammy joined Krystel and had a harness strapped on her. Straps going over each shoulder, belt around her waist and holsters strapped to each thigh. Krystel held up a pistol, locked open. The slide slid forward and it was stuck into the right holster, a second pistol went into the left. Magazines were put into plastic holders around her waist. Twenty magazines in total, then two into her hand.

Tammy looked at her. "Are we about to storm a third-world country?"

"Nope. Just the range." Krystel said and picked up a green metal box. "Let's go."

Krystel let Tammy warm up with five magazines each then let her watch as she went through the Killhouse. Tammy was sent through. She was much slower and nowhere near as accurate. Krystel sent her through six more times, changing the layout and target positions each time. Tammy knew it was supposed to be serious, yet it seemed fun, running through a building and shooting make-believe bad guys. Finally she was spent. Her legs were tired and her hands were strained.

"You do this all the time?" Tammy asked Krystel.

Krystel nodded. "Twice a week. You do mean just pistols, right?"

"You do more?" Tammy asked in shock.

"Yeah. Two days each; pistols, assault rifles and sub-guns. Some days are just going in, some are jumps and some are amphibious. Train to insane, crazy becomes do-able in combat." Krystel smirked.

Tammy shook her head. "Insane is right."

"Well, the fun's over. Let's clean up and go see about dinner." Krystel said.

Tammy was surprised when Krystel brought out a vacuum and used it to collect up all the spent casings then emptied it into a bucket. They went back to the hangar and changed then went to Krystel's cottage. Tammy made dinner using the diet program. She slept well that night.

 

~o~O~o~

 

The next morning was Day Three and started as the other two had. Exercise, shower and breakfast. Tammy had been told to wear jeans and a tank t-shirt with the knee-high boots. Today her morning instructor was the man they called Eddie. He showed her an engine and told her it was the same engine for the Epic. He spent a lot of time going over it, common problems and their solutions. He also showed her pictures of more serious problems and how to deal with them.

"I hear you have a two-seater. CzechSport. Over here is a similar engine." Eddie said and began teaching about it as well.

Tammy was surprised at how easily some things could be repaired. On a whim, she asked what items she should have in a toolkit for her planes. He handed her two printed pages.

"You were going to give these to me anyway, weren't you?" Tammy asked.

Eddie chuckled. "Yeah, but living up to that last name of yours; you asked. You have not wasted this time. Go get chow. You'll meet your Dive-Boss when you get back. Prepare to suffer, kid."

After lunch with Krystel, Tammy changed into a bikini and went back to the hangar. A rather fit man was standing in the conference room wearing a wet-suit, the top half down but had on a t-shirt.

"Afternoon Tammy. I'm Rodrick Mason, your Dive-instructor. You enjoyed my wife's company yesterday." Rodrick greeted her.

Tammy returned the greeting. "Afternoon, MiLord."

Rodrick smirked at her. "Oh. Smart, as in smart-ass."

"I'm afraid I couldn't resist." Tammy replied.

Rodrick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get in here. You've got a lot to learn and not a whole lot of time to do it."

Tammy went in and sat down.

"I don't know the man that gave you the initial dive-training personally, but his rep isn't bad. You need some skills he wasn't able to get around to. This is a crash-course. I'll be teaching you how to inspect watercraft, structures and perform surveys underwater. These skills you can use for more than one reason. Yes, you can use it for the projects we have and for Sean. You can also use it for your business. Let's get to it."

Tammy sat and paid close attention to narration of images on the large monitor. What to look for, where to look and why they would be there. After an hour and a half she was sent to suit up. Rodrick took her out in the cove and they dove. She went under the hulls of three boats then to a pier and boathouse to inspect the pilings and so on. Using Dive-slates and hand-signals, Tammy and Rodrick communicated back and forth. Rodrick also had waterproof flashcards to explain in-depth of the things she needed to pay close attention to.

The gauges on the rebreathers began to alert them, so Rodrick led her out into the cove then taught her how to switch units without surfacing. She almost choked on the mouthful of seawater so Rodrick had her repeat clearing the mouth-piece to learn how to do so without choking on the water. Finally Tammy gave him a thumb's-up and he returned it with a pat on her shoulder.

Tammy spent the limit of the rebreather learning to survey and make a diagram on a larger Dive-slate. After that, she learned to come ashore in a low-observable manner. Amphibious-incursion. She left everything on the cove's sandy floor; except mask, snorkel, fins and slates. He even made her sneak into the hangar to put the slates on the conference table.

"Not bad for a first time." Kim said, walking in.

Tammy watched as a video of her coming ashore began to play. Kim pointed out certain things Tammy overlooked. It was critical, but constructive.

"Is there time for me to do it again?" Tammy asked.

Kim nodded. "Sure. You can go back out in the water using just the snorkel. Start where you left the gear and come back ashore."

"Hit the water." Rodrick said with encouragement.

Tammy went back out and followed Rodrick to the gear-drop point. She dove down and touched the gear then headed toward the surface. She had an idea and rode the inside of a wave to wash ashore. Laying in the surf she shed the rest of the gear and broke from the water-line to rush over to some vegetation. From there she tried to move low and fast, looking around for any type of cameras. She smiled when she spotted one, then another. Tammy made it to the hangar and slipped inside.

Kim stood there, smiling. "Tammy Smart, you did really good. You only showed up on seven cameras instead of all eighteen. You pass this exercise and we hope you never need to do it operationally. Hit the shower, your day is done."

"Go ahead. Carl is collecting the gear. You did good." Rodrick nodded.

Tammy went to the shower and rinsed off then did so without the wetsuit. Despite it being difficult training, she was enjoying it. She left the bikini on and decided to walk along the beach. She found a cottage and the little girl Mindy was sitting on the porch at a table with books open.

"Must be doing homework." Tammy guessed and moved on.

A large house was next, but she didn't go to investigate, just moved on. On the far end of the island was some kind of training course, looking like gymnastic equipment. She walked further around and found Lyssa and Rodrick's house. Lyssa was outside, sitting on the grass playing with her children. Tammy smiled and continued further. She found a trail that went inward, so she followed it. Two cottages were in a large clearing, she couldn't see anyone in or around them. Though curious of who owned them, she reminded herself to respect their privacy. She saw two other paths and she chose the far one.

She reached the end of the path and laughed.

"Doctor Livingstone I presume?" Tammy called out to Krystel.

Krystel was standing on her porch and laughed. "Why, of course, Miss Stanley!"

Tammy went in and changed into shorts and t-shirt. Once again, Krystel had her make dinner from the program. Afterward, they sat on her porch and relaxed.

Krystel sipped her wine. "Well Tammy, what's the verdict on the trip so far?"

"I'm being run ragged, for certain. But for some masochistic reason, I'm enjoying it." Tammy chuckled.

Krystel smiled. "Good. No reason not to find the good times when you can. If you can have a good time, you'll learn better."

"Is that where I've been wrong?" Tammy asked.

Krystel shook her head. "You aren't military. You don't have the same drive and motivation your previous instructors dealt with. They're accustomed to those with the 'failure is not an option' mentality. You went in with the 'what am I in now' state of mind. Or so it seemed."

"I'm afraid I can't argue that. May I ask a question off-topic?" Tammy asked.

Krystel shrugged. "Sure."

"There are other houses here. May I ask who they belong to?" Tammy asked.

"One belongs to Kim, Lonestar and Mindy. The other big house belongs to another family, but they aren't here right now. Only their housekeeper. You know Rodrick and Lyssa's house already. The other two houses belong to other members of the unit. One that stays on deployment and another in the states. The one in the states is married and adopted her husband's two kids. Pete, Eddie and Carl have quarters set up in the hangars." Krystel listed.

The sun had set so they adjourned for the night.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Tammy woke at the first beep of the alarm clock. She dressed in the workout clothes and went out to meet Krystel on the runway.

"You work out more than me, don't you?" Tammy asked.

Krystel nodded. "Nothing personal, you just aren't up to our levels. If you continue on after leaving, you'll get there. Let's get to it. We got business."

Tammy put her all into it and felt oddly satisfied walking back to Krystel's cottage. The dress-code for the morning was skirt, an off-shoulder top and pumps. Apparently it was indoor lessons for the morning. Her instructor was Kim again. Her lesson plan was all office administration. Some things Tammy knew, others were new information. Some could help and others wouldn't apply to estate agencies. Realty as Kim called it. Mostly, Kim spent time teaching her how to organize better. Kim also taught her how to keep one electronic side safely apart from the other. Even phone and computer procedures and protocols so Tammy could communicate relatively in the open to the island, yet still maintain security.

"So with this phone, there are two levels. One normal and one for covert communications?" Tammy asked.

Kim nodded. "That's right. It uses cell towers primarily, but you can switch to satellite if you need to. The satellite phone in the pack you were sent will now be a back up. If you have to, you can delete settings and destroy it."

"I've always wanted to ask; where did all that come from?" Tammy asked.

Kim sat back in her chair. "The pistol, ammo, computer and phone we acquired from a British operative that went rogue. Everything else could be ordered off Amazon and was. Oh. The ballistic vest was made by us. We used you purchase history to determine the size. Speaking of sizing, come with me."

Kim led Tammy to a room at the back of the hangar. Inside Tammy was told to strip and step into a booth.

"Okay. Stand with your feet apart more. Good now hold your arms out a little more. Good. Close your eyes and don't move." Kim said and began typing on a laptop. Moments later she said. "All done. You can get dressed now."

Tammy put her clothes back on. "What was that? Some kind of scanner?"

"Yeah. It measured you. The suit you wore for the range, doesn't fit. You'll get one that does. The boots are fine, we get them off the shelf and modify for our use." Kim said.

Tammy had the impression there was more to the suit than looks. "Is the suit bullet-proof?"

Kim gave her a sly smile. "Bullet-resistant, Tammy. Nothing is bullet-proof. You get a level five ballistic rating. It also will protect you from slashes and stabbing."

Tammy's eyes went wide. "Are you serious? It can do all that?"

"And more. It disrupts your infra-red signature to a degree. It won't make you invisible, just slightly confusing to sensors. Pay attention, your life depends on this. You can survive seven point six-two rounds and pistol rounds up to forty-five caliber. You'll get a welt or a bruise, but you'll live. Concussive force will hurt you, stay back from explosions. Grenade fragments won't penetrate from a distance. The closer you are, the higher the risk, always take cover. The collar is flexible, not rigid. You can be strangled. The suit increases survivability, it doesn't make you invulnerable." Kim explained then fixed her with a stern look. "Do you understand all of this?"

Tammy felt the urge to stand at attention and did. "Yes M'am."

"Forgetting that can end you. I don't think I have to tell you twice, do I?" Kim asked.

"No, M'am." Tammy replied.

Kim nodded. "Good. Let's get lunch now. You are going to have some fun-learning this afternoon. Bikini required and you report to the dock."

After Lunch with Kim, Tammy rushed to change into a bikini, choosing a purple set and went down to the dock. Carl waved to her from a sailboat.

"Time to learn how to sail!" Carl called out.

Tammy smiled and all but jumped aboard. Fun-learning indeed. Carl taught her how to sail the boat. It was quite fun, but all too soon, they were back at the dock and switching to a large motor boat.

"This is called a Cabin-cruiser. It seems big and it is, but one person can handle it. Now, cast-off. Single up all lines and we'll get underway." Carl said.

Tammy cast off and pulled in the mooring lines as he directed then ran up to the flying bridge. Under Carl's instruction, she piloted the small yacht out. She learned how to use the electronics to make a course, check water depth and even find other objects on the surface. It was very easy to learn how to pilot it.

"Carl. Is there a loo onboard?" Tammy asked.

Carl looked confused. "A what?"

"A bathroom." Tammy laughed.

Carl shook his head. "You're on a boat. They're called a Head. Yeah, down below."

Tammy went down then inside and began looking around. "Wow. A person could live on this boat."

She did find the Head and did her business. She explored a bit more after, finding a small bunk room, kitchen along with a small dinette set.

Back on the flying bridge Tammy said to Carl. "Someone could live on a boat like this, can't they?"

"Sure they can. You could live on the sailboat too, but it's not as friendly for females." Carl answered. "Some boats like this even have dive-lockers. We could even make it all the way to Key West with this boat."

Tammy took the controls when he indicated and changed course to head back. At the dock she tied up then followed him down to a sleek and powerful looking boat.

"Is this a racing boat?" Tammy asked.

Carl smiled. "Yep. This is a cigarette-class, off-shore racing. They're also called go-fast-boats. Smugglers use them too. Cast off and jump in."

Tammy untied the lines, tossed them onto the boat and jumped aboard. Carl started the engines and they roared. Tammy had to put on a set of headphones with microphone.

"Get over to the seat and buckle up. Take the throttles." Carl told her. "For racing a boat like this, you have the wheelman and the throttleman. Take us up to half."

Tammy pushed the levers forward halfway and the boat leaped forward with a roar, pinning her to the seat. Carl took sweeping turns, making the boat bank hard then straightened out.

"Take it to Full." Carl said.

The throttles were rammed forward and the boat began launching over waves as it rocketed out to sea. Tammy yelled out and had a smile a mile wide. This learning was really fun.

"We're going about seventy!" Carl had to yell over the headset. "If we had calmer sea, we could get up to hundred or more! Havin' fun yet?"

Tammy said back. "DEFINITELY!"

"Throttle down and idle." Carl said.

Tammy pulled back on the levers and the boat slowed down and floated.

Carl unbuckled his seat-belt and took off the headset. "Your turn."

"I get to drive?!" Tammy asked then unbuckled and changed seats.

They both buckled up and put on the headsets.

"Okay. That way! All ahead, Full!" Carl said and rammed the throttles forward.

Tammy squealed, held the wheel tight and turned to the direction Carl had said. They raced about while Tammy learned the features of the boat then returned to the cove. Tammy listened carefully and was able to dock the powerboat. Her legs felt weak as she climbed out onto the dock.

"Gone all mush on me?" Carl quipped.

Tammy sat down. "That was the greatest! Thank you for teaching me how to sail!"

"CARL! You took MY boat out?" Rodrick bellowed from the end of the dock.

Carl snapped to Attention. "AYE, SKIPPER!"

Rodrick strode up and eyed him intensely then looked down to Tammy. "Did you learn anything?"

"Did I ever!" Tammy said, smiling.

Rodrick's eyes narrowed. "I take it, you had FUN?"

Tammy giggled. "I bloody well did!"

"Good. The day is done and done well. That'll be all." Rodrick said then threw her a smirk and left.

When Tammy could stand up, she went back to Krystel's and joined her for dinner. Later she fell asleep and looked forward to the next day's lessons.

****TBC in part 2***

 

The Chrysalis Project Book 10: Iron Dolphin Book 4   The last time Krystel and   Tammy were together, London was   exciting. Now it's   Tammy's turn to travel WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

---

 

 
 
 

"Getting easier to get up and at it." Krystel remarked.

Tammy mounted the bike. "I'm surprised, myself."

They pushed off and rode the length of the runway several times. Tammy counted the laps and stopped at seven. They dismounted and began running, five miles. Shoes were removed and they charged into the incoming surf, diving over breakers. Tammy was relieved when Krystel led back to the beach. Tammy body-surfed the breakers and crawled the beach.

"How far?" Tammy panted. "I know you increased the distance again."

Krystel chuckled. "Three and a half. You're hanging tough, Tammy. This is a good thing. Where's the Huzzah?"

"Huzzah." Tammy groaned then laughed.

Krystel rolled her eyes. "Yay, and shit. Let's go shower and get chow."

After showering, Tammy put on the borrowed one-piece uniform and boots again then joined Krystel for breakfast. Tammy still couldn't believe the diet program was so easily disguised. She frowned at her plate.

"Problem?" Krystel asked.

Tammy sipped her juice then answered. "This diet program. You are serious about it working?"

Krystel nodded. "It does, but there's a catch. Exercise is essential, neglect PT and you'll gain weight. Your intake is slightly higher than what you burn. Now by doing that, you don't accumulate fat. Instead you burn it off. You're doing massive cardio. You're not building muscle, you're toning. Giving yourself a sleeker shape, get it? You get and maintain curves, but realistic. In short you look hot in most things, but you don't draw crowds of guys drooling behind you."

Tammy laughed. "I guess that would be a problem if I was trying to keep a low profile!"

"The bike gets your system up and going. Running strengthens your legs and core while giving you endurance. Swimming works all your muscles. Yum, not buff." Krystel explained with a wink.

"Yum?" Tammy laughed and finished her plate. "My friend, I sometimes think you have gone around the bend."

Krystel arched an eyebrow. "Sometimes?"

"The rest of the time, I know you have and wonder how long before I go too!" Tammy laughed more.

Krystel got up from the table. "Train to insane, Tammy, and crazy becomes do-able. Head for the range."

"I'm off then." Tammy said and did so.

Minutes later Tammy met yet another large man. "Good morning."

"Mornin' Tammy. I'm Pete." Pete introduced himself.

Tammy nodded. "Right, Pete. What am I learning this morning?"

"Rifles. Long-range. Sniper basics. You'll carry a shot a minimum of seven hundred and fifty meters by the end of this range session. Let's get to it." Pete said and opened several cases.

"M40A7. The Marines use these. Based on the Remington 700. It's chambered for match-grade rounds. Three-thirty-eight Lapau. Next is Barrett's MRAD, chambered for three-thirty-eight Norma." Pete pointed them out.

Tammy looked up. "They are different? They sound the same."

"The difference is subtle. Norma rounds are slightly shorter than Lapua. Both are magnum rounds. The Norma is taking the place of Lapua. Better quality. Even after all this time, Lapua rounds are temperamental. Norma rounds are more reliable." Pete explained then pointed to the next rifle. "Barrett M107. This is a fifty cal rifle."

Tammy looked at it. "Oh dear. I may not know much, but I do know what that means. Why are there two?"

"Same rifle, different caliber. This one is chambered for four-sixteen Barrett. Several other rifles use it. Barrett makes the rounds and a rifle. Ultra-reliable." Pete said then pointed to the last rifle. "You can see this one, but you won't be shooting it. It's custom. It fires a twenty-three millimeter sabot round."

Tammy gawked at the sound of that. "Wait. What?"

"We call it the anti-matter rifle. She says it's because those rounds are depleted uranium. Everybody else says it's because you can knock the fuckin' starship enterprise out of orbit with it." Pete shook his head. "You have to use a tripod to shoot the damn thing. No joke, the round can go three-thousand meters and obliterate just about anything it hits. Two or three rounds, the target and even the building they were hiding in; gone."

"Jesus Christ. That's taking overkill to the obnoxious." Tammy remarked.

Pete nodded. "Yep. I won't even lie. It's nuts, but comes in pretty effective against seriously fortified hard-sites. You can shoot the others though. We'll start with the four-sixteen. Grab it and let's go."

Tammy took the rifle and magazines then went over to the firing position. In minutes she hit the center of a five hundred meter target then adjust for the next. Pete had her shoot forty rounds, walking her out to finally hit the one-thousand meter target.

"Congrats. You just made a Kilo-shot." Pete patted her shoulder.

Tammy smiled. "Wow. I did it!"

Pete smirked. "Now do ten more."

Tammy turned back to the scope and slowly sighted. Ten rounds went into the target. They hit in the center ring, but the group was loose. Pete declared her a Pass though. Tammy then switched rifles. The Marine rifle then the MRAD. The recoil felt the same, but the flight path and impact showed actual difference. The Norma rounds flew straighter and faster than the Lapua rounds. She liked the MRAD with Norma rounds more. It felt more comfortable. Finally came the Fifty. Tammy didn't like that rifle. The recoil was severe. Thankfully she was using the bipod to steady it, but she would feel it for the rest of the day and knew it.

When she hit the center ring twice at eight hundred meters Pete shut her down. "Okay. You're good. That's a Pass."

"Really?" Tammy asked.

Pete nodded. "Yeah. I'd keep you at it, but you need your arms for later. We'll police up the brass and you can go clean up. Dress for a garden lunch and go to Lyssa and Rodrick's house."

"Frock and stilts." Tammy surmised.

Tammy and Pete collected all the casings and put them in separate containers then she hurried back to the cottage to shower and change. Tammy found it a challenge to go from Krystel's cottage directly to Lyssa's house wearing the very high heels, but she arrived without any accidents. After knocking, she entered.

"Afternoon." Lyssa greeted her from the kitchen.

Tammy smiled. "Good afternoon. Where are the children?"

"Too quiet?" Lyssa laughed. "It's a Daddy-day. Rodrick has office work so he has them with him. You've probably acquired proper manner and decorum. This will likely be just a review and refresh for you."

"I'll certainly do my best." Tammy said.

Lyssa gave a slight smile. "So. When was the last time you visited Paris?"

"Paris?" Tammy asked.

Lyssa gave her a devilish grin. "I thought you might like something French. I had this after walking a Givenchy show."

"I must ask. Do models really not eat before a show and go crazy after?" Tammy asked.

Lyssa nodded. "More than I care to mention. I don't. All the unspoken rules don't apply to me. They all know I dance and have to have an actual body or I'd have to be scraped off the stage between acts. The way it works for me most of the time; they pick me to wear certain designs. The rest of the time, they just check the numbers to short list then make adjustment to fit the model. This is ready."

"It smells wonderful." Tammy said.

Lyssa looked over. "Thank you. The range is now Live. The table has four place settings. As you know the plan of the meal, determine which setting is correct."

Tammy walked over to the table and circled it, examining each place. She stopped and went back to the third.

"This setting is correct for the courses." Tammy announced confidently.

Lyssa nodded. "Very good. Now which of the five wines?"

Tammy went over to the counter and looked at the labels and picked up one. "The Sauvigon Blanc. The soup is light, the salad has no meat or dairy and an oil-vinegar based dressing. The entree is poultry with rice and crisped vegetables, lightly sauteed. The dessert is shortcake and fruit with cream. The Sauvigon Blanc is a match to each course. Though I've never heard of this one before. Is it an American Vineyard?"

"Yes. Alpha Omega has several vineyards in California. I think you'll like it." Lyssa said then removed the incorrect settings and brought over the correct one for herself.

As they ate, Tammy found herself in conversation that had no actual theme. One moment they were discussing wines, the next moment the subject was dresses and a moment later, jewelry stores in Venice. Tammy was trying very hard to keep up with the swift changes. During dessert, of a shortcake cup filled with berries and topped with rich cream, Tammy's brain locked up and she found herself staring at Lyssa in confusion.

"Wondering when it was we shifted into French?" Lyssa asked in French.

Tammy frowned. "I just now noticed."

Lyssa smirked. "The second bite of dessert."

Tammy looked down, no more than four or five delicate bites remained of her own. "That long?"

"Small talk can be a weapon. You can use it, it can be used against you. Nine sentences of a seemingly random theme and one targeted question, shift subjects and repeat. Tammy; you told me about your biological mother, where you hid your clothes in school and that your neighbor's butler can be trusted with your weapons. You're also still angry at your step-sister for poaching your last boyfriend and a girl named Tanya is a backstabber in serious need of a reality slap. That's a lot of information." Lyssa said and set her fork aside.

Tammy closed her eyes and groaned. "Bloody Hell, and I just gave it over, didn't I?"

"Your mentality needs to change Tammy. Don't think 'what is a weapon and what is not', but rather 'what can I use as a weapon and how'?" Lyssa explained. "So said; you're still blown away by Krystel using a spoon in a fire-fight. Right?"

"Yes. It sounds so ludicrous, but I saw it happen." Tammy agreed.

Lyssa gave a fixed look. "You can kill more people with a pistol; using a bottle cap, stick of gum and a spool of dental floss, than you can with two grenades."

"That's.." Tammy said, but turned to hear a tapping sound to the right then swung back to see Lyssa's finger an inch from her forehead. "Uh."

Lyssa said flatly. "Bang. Notify next of kin."

"Bottle cap, chewing gum, dental floss; dead Tammy." Tammy recited.

Lyssa nodded. "Underlying message?"

Tammy chose her words carefully. "Distraction is deadly."

"Very good. The key is to make the distraction appropriate for the setting. A spoon clanging in a coffee shop, a soft noise in a quiet room. Let's say you were in an alley; two small rocks in an empty drink can tipping over. They look there and you pop up behind them." Lyssa explained.

Tammy thought about that and it suddenly hit her. "I think I have it! Let's see if I can say this to theme; an oops. They think I have an accident, which draws their attention. The subtle noise is more effective than something very big, it seems natural. Is that it?"

Lyssa grinned and clapped. "Bravo. You now move on to another weapon. Up, follow me."

Tammy stood up and followed Lyssa to another room. At a glance she knew it was a dance studio.

"This weapon is called dance. You will learn to waltz. You will learn to Viennese waltz." Lyssa stated then began the music.

First Tammy learned the basic movements to both styles, then the real lessons began. Lyssa taught her how to question while dancing and read facial expressions along with other body cues to determine bluffs, evasion, distorted recollection, truth and outright lies.

"I meant to ask Kim, but something came up. What is RUMINT?" Tammy asked while sipping from a water.

Lyssa nodded. "Rumor Intelligence. Gossip. Scuttlebutt. Talk-about-town."

"Really? That's what it is called?" Tammy asked.

"Yes. Pay attention; the biggest threat against you is rumors and gossip. Remember Tanya? Prime example. Who else comes to mind?" Lyssa asked.

Tammy groaned. "Helen. Oh Hell, almost the whole town! That's me, buggered and back."

Lyssa held up her hand. "Calm down. Take a breath. All is not lost. You're here for a reason."

Tammy took a deep breath then another. "Right. Calm. What am I to do?"

"Good girl. The bunch originally in charge of you; screwed you. You were an Asset. You're learning to become an operative. The only time you become bait on the hook, is when it's to YOUR advantage. You've already begun damage control. When you go home, you'll constantly do more. Damage control and deniability will become an everyday protocol, understand?" Lyssa gave her a serious look.

"Everyday?" Tammy asked in surprise.

Lyssa sipped her water. "Before you even leave the house in the morning. You'll look like the businesswoman you are when you go to work, the student you are when you go to classes, a well-kempt socialite all other times. You run a schedule; where, when, who and what. Everything on full display. No more pretending or managing. You will become and remove all doubt."

"I believe I understand." Tammy said.

Lyssa gave her a hard look. "Oh believe girl. You WILL get your collective shit together. That's why you're here. When you leave, nobody will doubt what you did. You can even recommend if you think they can afford it. They get the actual seminar and have fun while learning. You're getting a concentrated version of it because of all the additional curriculum. Ready?"

Tammy nodded. "What's next."

And so, Tammy's social graces and espionage lessons continued until Four in the afternoon. She was told to go directly to the main hangar to catch a flight with Krystel. She was surprised to see some of the luggage in the helicopter and put on the headset.

"Are we staying somewhere?" Tammy asked.

Krystel answered. "Freeport for the weekend. Part training, part cover. This is when you actually stay at Bell Channel."

The helo took off with Lonestar at the controls. They landed at the airport's helipad and loaded in to the Jeep gain. Krystel drove to Bell Channel and they took their rooms. Dinner that night was in the hotel's dining room. Tammy proposed her meal choice to Krystel and received approval.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Morning came and Tammy woke at the first beep of the alarm clock. She was dressed to exercise and walking out the door at Six. Krystel met her and together they went downstairs. They both wore sport bikinis with shorts type bottoms and ran down the street. Three miles of running brought the pair to a beach. Shoes and socks were stashed in a rental locker and they headed for the water. A reference point was indicated before wading out to the breakers. When they returned to shore at the same point they had entered, Tammy knew the swim had been farther than before. Krystel took their things from the locker and soon they were running again, back to the hotel.

In the parking lot Tammy wanted to collapse, but managed to stay upright. "That was just evil. I know we ran and swam further than usual."

"Of course. No bikes, so we adjust. This weekend you learn how to maintain yourself when away." Krystel told her then said more quietly. "Also for your cover. You'll do some tourist stuff. And a bank visit."

Tammy showered, dressed in a summer dress and sandals then met Krystel downstairs in the dining room. For breakfast Tammy chose a Western omelet and Toast with coffee and juice. There were many women in the dining room sharing tables and chatting happily. Tammy listened to some of the conversation at the three tables closest to them and heard the diners introducing themselves by name, country and profession.

"Krystel. Are these women here for the seminar?" Tammy asked quietly.

Krystel nodded with a sly smile. "That's right. They got in yesterday and start Monday. For today and tomorrow they get to have fun. Get it out of the way so they can be relaxed and ready to receive new knowledge. We'll join their group this afternoon."

After breakfast, Krystel and Tammy slipped away from the women eager to enjoy the island's amenities and attractions. They arrived with minutes to spare at GlobalTrust Bank and Finance. Thirty minutes later, Tammy had four accounts, two credit cards on order and wallet heavy with cash.

"Dare I ask; where the four million dollars came from exactly?" Tammy asked as they walked away from the international bank.

Krystel smirked. "Drug cartels, terrorist groups, rogue agents and criminal factions. Not to worry, they have no use for it anymore. This is part of the 'you get more help' we told you about."

Tammy shook her head. "Rabbit-holes and big leagues are understatements."

"Now, now. No going crazy. You have access, but we control the accounts. You get paid out of those accounts two ways. Half goes to your real account in Scotland and half goes into that third account here. The fourth account is your exit-account. Part of your Reno Protocol. The Major will go over that with you later." Krystel explained.

"Reno? Isn't that a city?" Tammy asked.

"Yeah, but not relevant. Reno Protocol is what we call emergency exit plans. It's what we do when all has gone FUBAR." Krystel said then gave her an intense look. "No mistake girl, shit gets real if we have to use that."

Tammy stopped. "How bad. I mean really, how bad?"

"When the government decides it better to give us up to enemies to protect their own wrong-doing. Yes, Tammy, it can happen. It has happened to others. We protect ourselves from it. You're one of 'ourselves' now. We'll protect you. The days of wingin' it, muddling through and praying you come out; those are over. "

They met back up with part of the seminar group and merged. Tammy wanted to laugh as the group leader was using the App for the style group to teach the group how to find female-specific amenities according to country and city. They were also encouraged to pay more attention to local vendors instead of the easier to find souvenir shops.

Out of curiosity Tammy examined a souvenir that was obviously mass-produced and wanted to growl.

"Made in Malaysia? Seriously Krystel?" Tammy hissed quietly.

Krystel laughed. "And he wants thirty bucks for it too. Enrique has no shame."

"Hey. A man has to make an honest living." An older well tanned man said.

Krystel nudged Tammy. "Wonder how he reconciles his prices and being a serious church-going man."

Enrique crossed himself. "Scripture; they are but strangers and I take them in."

Tammy rolled her eyes. "That can't be right."

Krystel and Tammy left the shop and wandered down the street.

"So that is the cliche tourist trap?" Tammy asked.

Krystel nodded. "That and more. Enrique wasn't always Enrique and definitely not a local. Back in the 90's he worked as an accountant for a certain group out of Peru. He was an honest man and only cared about numbers. The problem came from a member of said group started monkeying around with money. Unfortunately, Enrique got left holding the empty bag. He wasn't a complete fool and contacted an American agency. He gave them everything he had and they gave him a way out and a new life. He really does sell the stuff, but he also informs to the American Embassy about foreigners of note."

"Like me?" Tammy asked.

"Like Cartels and smugglers. See that building over there. The one with the blue shutters and trim?" Krystel asked.

Tammy looked and saw a sign. "That is a bank too?"

"Real subtle. Look back to Enrique's shop. The closest corner of the roof." Krystel said.

Tammy shifted to look along the eaves and saw a camera. "I see the camera. It's pointing to the entrance to the bank. I get it. He watches the bank. They are the kind that are, shall we say; non-discriminatory?"

"Oh, they're dirty. All the way. They keep enough legit customers to stay open. Tourist traps can have more than one function. They can gather intel. If he was asked, he would say the seminar group came through and how many were American and how many were other. Cash, credit, traveler-checks. He won't though. It's a legit business and it's known who owns it. Actually, you're the first time we've used it to train somebody." Krystel explained.

"There is so much to absorb." Tammy remarked.

Krystel nodded. "There's the world around you and the world around you. Even though they sometimes look the same, they aren't."

Tammy frowned. "So what do I do?"

"See the world Tammy. See the world and understand not all is as it seems. Just like you. You are not all as you seem." Krystel said.

Tammy nodded. "Right."

Several times they rejoined the group, Tammy was encouraged to insert herself in group selfies as well as take solo ones when apart. In a small gallery she picked up a watercolor seascape to send to her father, a framed starfish collection for Angela, shell necklace and earrings set for Joan. Closer to a marina she found a man with a truck selling seashells and liked a large pink one for Cathy. Apparently he was a diver and collected them personally, therefore he wouldn't haggle. Krystel gave a subtle nod that his price was reasonable. Tammy handed over the money and was surprised to see him carefully pack the shell into a box with shredded paper.

Tammy took stock of her purchases. "Dad, Mum, Angela and Cathy. I guess I should get something for Suzie. And Joey, too."

"Just don't get them a t-shirt that says 'my friend went to the Bahamas and all I got was a t-shirt'." Krystel snarked.

Tammy laughed. "They might take umbridge if I did that!"

She found the right choices in a shop near the Hotel. A model lighthouse for Joey and piece of art made from various colored glass to look like an underwater scene for Suzie. At the hotel, she was able to box the gifts and ship the home. For dinner that night Tammy had to dress in evening-wear. During dessert Krystel informed her that Lyssa and Rodrick owned the restaurant and they were sitting at their personal table.

 

~o~O~o~

 

The next morning started similarly and they quickly separated from the group. The morning lesson plan consisted of surveillance techniques until lunch. After lunch Tammy learned the flip-side, counter-surveillance then improvising readily available items to assist in both aspects. Dinner was early and casual with instructions to sleep fast. The instruction was understood when the phone rang at three in morning.

"Grab everything, be in the hall in ten minutes." Krystel said.

Tammy rushed to both wake up and prepare, just barely being in time. Quietly she was led down the backstairs and to Krystel's jeep. At a marina Krystel stopped. Leaving everything in the jeep they went down to the end of a dock. Krystel pulled up a dry bag attached to a rope. Inside was gear for the both of them. Hanging underneath the dock were two rebreather units.

In the water she felt uncomfortable due to the darkness. The lights strapped to their wrists were dim. Krystel led her to inspect several boats and the dock below the waterline then further out into the bay. They swapped the rebreathers for twin tanks and swam further out until light began to filter through the water. A glance at her watch told her it was now after Five in the morning. A boat came into view and Krystel indicated to approach it.

On the side away from shore Krystel climbed up a ladder to board the sailboat and Tammy followed.

On the deck Tammy pulled her regulator. "Isn't this your boat?"

"Yep. Prepare to set sail. Take us back to the island." Krystel said.

It took her a while, but Tammy eventually plotted their course. The anchor was raised then sails unfurled and the boat lurched with the wind to head on course. After a few minutes, Krystel took the helm and Tammy changed from wetsuit to a bikini. Five hours later they saw the island in the distance.

Tammy couldn't resist the impulse and shouted. "LAND HO!"

"RAM'S ROCK, DEAD AHEAD!" Krystel added

Soon they docked and unloaded everything. Carl had sailed the boat in to Freeport and prepped the gear before they arrived at the marina, then used a motor raft to transport their luggage to the boat. He went back to the island with Lonestar when he flew Mindy in for school.

"Welcome back." Kim greeted them in the main hangar and handed Krystel a clipboard.

Krystel read the clipboard. "Thanks. We got everything done, she passed."

"I even enjoyed it." Tammy commented.

Kim nodded. "Good, that means it'll stick. You get the rest of the day for yourself, Tammy. Get in some beach time, you need to look like you've been getting out."

"Ah. I could do with a bit of colour. I'll just take my things back to the cottage and collect some bits." Tammy replied then asked. "What is my schedule tomorrow?"

"Glad you asked." Kim answered. "Tomorrow you finally start jump training."

Tammy gulped. "Jump training? For real?"

Both nodded and Krystel smirked. "The first one is easy. It's the second one that's always the problem."

That night, the only reason Tammy was able to sleep was due to being so tired.

 

~o~O~o~

 

After waking and the usual exercise and breakfast, Tammy found herself in the main hangar facing Lyssa. Lyssa wore the similar looking black one-piece uniform and boots Tammy did, but Tammy now wore one made for herself. It was a little stiff from being new. Videos were played which Lyssa narrated instructions then they moved out to the open floor. They laid down on wheeled boards to move around as if in freefall. After lunch, Tammy found herself in the belly of a C-130 taking off.

"Relax Tammy. This first jump is a static. You walk off the ramp and the chute is opened for you, just relax and enjoy the view." Lyssa told her.

Tammy nodded nervously; hoping lunch, breakfast and everything else she'd eaten her whole life wouldn't come back up. Finally she heard the announcement and stood up. Lyssa showed her how to hook up then did so herself. The ramp lowered as a red light came on and they walked slowly to the end of the ramp.

Lyssa pointed out instead of down. "Nothing but clear blue sky Tammy. This is the only way you ever get to see it so perfectly. Ready? I'm right with you. Here we go! One, two. THREE!"

Tammy stepped off the ramp, felt swept away then a hard yank and time seemed to stop. The loud plane faded as did buffeting winds to only flapping and fluttering sounds.

"You did it!" Lyssa called out over the radio.

"I guess I did!" Tammy called back then looked down. "OH GOD, WHY DID I DO THAT?"

Krystel's voice replied. "Looking good. Tammy, you have to look down or you'll land on something you don't want to."

"What if I lose my meals?" Tammy asked.

Krystel laughed. "Do what birds do. Aim for somebody you don't like."

Tammy couldn't help laughing at that. Soon she was touching down and remembered to keep her feet together, collapse and roll out. Krystel helped her gather the chute. Together they walked back to the hangar.

"Well, that's the first. The first of many. Now we get serious." Krystel told her.

Minutes later, Tammy wore a different chute and walked back onto the C-130. Krystel, Lyssa and Rodrick were with her. Now it was time to freefall. Six times they went up in the plane and came down by parachute.

Tammy collapsed to sit on the sand and waved her hand to Krystel. "No more, please. I'm knackered and m' legs are jelly."

Krystel plopped down as well. "You did good."

"Congratulations. You can successfully freefall from sixteen thousand feet. You get a Pass on your jump training." Lyssa said, standing over her.

Tammy groaned. "Thank God!"

When she recovered enough to stand, Tammy went to the hangar and learned how to pack parachutes, starting with her own. She gawked to learn it was and had a coordinating windsuit. Kim informed her they would be shipped with her luggage. That night Tammy slept more soundly than she ever had in at least two years.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Day Ten started slow but Tammy found her gears out on the runway as she rode with Krystel and got herself to speed. The morning lessons were Kim, learning body and facial language then how to disguise interrogating with interviews for business purposes. Until lunch she learned what civilian means were available to conduct background checks. After lunch, Tammy learned about suffering. Krystel taught her techniques of kickboxing, called Muay Thai. For further punishment, Jui Jitsu techniques were also taught. Thankfully only temporary red marks resulted and would fade by the time she left.

The morning lesson for Day Eleven found Tammy back on the range. Rodrick had her training with submachine guns. Mainly she learned using the Heckler & Koch UMP and MP-5. She also fired an Uzi and Ingram Mac-10, both in 9mm. Rodrick had her go through the Killhouse with each to really get the feel of their temperaments before rating her a Pass. Tammy then had to hurry to clean up and dress for lunch and afternoon with Lyssa again. Those lessons were all about casual social settings and ended with dinner with her and Rodrick.

After dessert Tammy commented. "I feel like I've made it over a hill of some sort."

"You did. Jump training was the crest. We're winding down now." Lyssa told her.

Tammy perked up. "I am almost done?"

Rodrick nodded. "Tomorrow is a half-day. You're training ended today. Tomorrow you spend the morning with Paul. After lunch you get to play. Carl will give you some surfing lessons and take pictures."

"You lot certainly ran me ragged, but now that I look back, I had a good time." Tammy admitted.

Lyssa smiled in approval. "We gave you a lot, but you took it in stride. Be proud of yourself. We crammed a six week course into two."

"Will I ever need to come back?" Tammy asked.

"You'll come back once a year or so for a week, updates and so on." Lyssa explained. "But you'll see us before that. We'll be on Man for the race. You can hang out in our area."

Tammy looked over to Rodrick. "You are going to race?"

"Nope." Lyssa said then smiled. "I am."

Tammy sat stunned then shook her head. "I forgot, insanity is the norm here."

"You'll acclimate." Rodrick dead-panned. "Now, head back to Krystel's. The kids and dog are asleep so we're having sex on the table in the next forty-five seconds."

Tammy bolted from the table and tried not to laugh hearing Lyssa drawl. "Hell yeah."

The next morning after the usual routine, Tammy dressed for a meeting. She also grabbed the bottle of single malt Scotch and went to the main hangar.

The man she knew as Major Paul Dannigan greeted her. "Morning."

"Good morning, Sir." Tammy replied then held out to bottle. "For you."

Dannigan chuckled. "Nice. Grab a coffee and come with me."

Tammy poured herself a coffee then followed into the conference room and sat down.

"I've read over your training reports. Well done. You took it seriously and it shows. Unfortunately what we do today won't be so exciting, but it is critical." Dannigan said then handed her a binder.

Dannigan began. "Your main purpose with us will be intelligence gathering. Monitoring personnel of interest that enter, operate and exit your AO, area of operation. That area is the coastal area and islands; Caithness and Orkneys. You will remain based in Thurso."

"Yes, Sir." Tammy acknowledged.

"I want no misunderstandings. Do not reveal sensitive British materials you become privy to. If we need something, we'll obtain it ourselves. If you develop intel for us that the British need to be read in on, we'll instruct as to who and how. This is about cooperation within boundaries, you are NOT a double-agent. Am I clear?" Dannigan asked firmly.

Tammy nodded. "Absolutely, Sir. I had no idea there was such people that work for separate governments."

Dannigan sat back in his chair. "It does occur, but usually they act as liaisons. Like the officer exchange programs in the military. Official channels, everybody knows and it's all in the open. You're a quiet version of this, limited people know."

For the next hour Dannigan went through the binder with her. Tammy quickly understood there was a separation between American and British interests, her real purpose would be when those interests coincided. She still had a discreet attachment to the Broadsword group, but would only interact with Sean MacTaggart.

Dannigan hooked a thumb towards the door as Kim and Krystel stood in the doorway. "For us, you interact with Kimberly and Krystel. It will be rare to be direct with me."

"I think I understand." Tammy said.

Dannigan leaned back in his chair and looked at her intently. "In movies and tv, this is where I make some kind of demand to prove loyalty."

Tammy nodded. "I've seen those."

"Yeah. Me too. We don't work that way. You were given a choice and you made it." Dannigan said.

Tammy tilted her head in puzzlement. "I'm not with you, Sir."

Kim spoke up. "How many times did you jump out of a perfectly good aircraft?"

"Seven, I believe." Tammy answered.

Dannigan leaned forward. "And how many of those parachutes did you pack personally?"

Tammy answered without hesitation. "None."

"So you walked off the ramp on your own, with seven chutes that you did not pack or inspect, chosen at random from a group." Dannigan pointed out.

Tammy now understood. "I see your point now. I put my faith forward and met with success."

"Welcome; to the Office of Immediate Covert Action, Tamara Smart." Dannigan said.

"A member of the club now. Do I get a cliche code-name?" Tammy asked.

Dannigan handed her a file and tapped it.

"Maighdeann Cluaran." Tammy read and translated with a smile. "Thistle Maiden. Very nice, Sir. Thank you."

Dannigan gave her a small grin. "You're welcome. Code-names are for projects. Personnel have Operational Designators. Usually they're random, like code-names, but I can chose them if not used already. I though that would be appropriate for you."

"I am surprised though. I thought you would have a team of shrinks have a go at me." Tammy admitted.

Dannigan gave her a bland look. "You've been under constant evaluation since you arrived. Everyone who taught you gave reports for each session."

"Reports?" Tammy asked.

Kim nodded and set down a stack of files. "We weren't just training you Tammy. We were also determining your abilities and limits."

"Example. Do you, Tammy, have the mental stability to kill? The answer is 'yes', but within parameters. You are not a liquidation specialist. You can shoot, yes, but unless it's you or them; you fail to justify the necessity. I can't send you a gun and say 'go put two bullets in Joe Snuffy's skull'. This doesn't make you unfit for work, just that you have limits. Everyone has limits and your's aren't a problem. If you couldn't at least defend yourself, THAT would be a problem. There's what you can do, what you can't, what you shouldn't and most importantly; what you have no business doing. We know these things." Dannigan explained.

Krystel commented. "Pegs and holes come in more than just round and square Tammy-girl."

"It is our determination that you are suited to intelligence gathering. We're not dropping you into combat zones. In fact, we'd prefer you not be in lethal outcome situations. You may end up in them, but in the interest of protection of yourself or innocent by-standers." Kim stated.

"All this does makes sense to me." Tammy remarked.

Dannigan sat forward and pulled four large envelopes over. "Good. Now, you gave us some trust and I'm going to justify that, right now. Tammy we have something called 'Reno Protocols'."

"Krystel mentioned that." Tammy said. "Basically, it sounded like an escape plan if things take the piss."

"I'll spell it out. Should you be Burned, by accident or intention, you have a chance to save yourself. You have four protocols, the main focus of three of them are to get to Switzerland. From there we can extract you and relocate you to a new life in a secure location." Dannigan said then opened the first and gave it to her.

Identity papers, credit cards and other personal litter were on top. Her method would be to use the Epic to fly directly to Switzerland, land at a private airfield, discard all former identity and abandon the plane. Using the new identity, travel to Geneva to an apartment and await retrieval.

The second started out similar, but deviated with method. A small file detailed instructions, key placements, passcodes and maps. A boat house on one of the Orkney Islands contained a cabin cruiser able to cross to Norway, she would use her dive gear to swim ashore to a small village. In the village a car would be available to drive to Switzerland.

The third deviated with a motorcycle from Dover to Calais via the Channel Tunnel then trains to Geneva. The fourth was the most extreme. She simply abandoned everything, use her dive gear to swim out to a GPS coordinate offshore and be met by a U.S. Navy sub that would remain submerged to retrieve her.

Tammy looked up. "All of this could be done?"

Dannigan gave her an intent look. "I want this clear. If it comes to it; we'll hide you for a year in Mayan ruins deep in the Peruvian jungle and when you come out, you look like a twenty year old doppelganger for Olivia Newton-John."

"For the love of God, let's hope it doesn't come to that, Sir." Tammy replied.

Dannigan sat back. "But now you understand how far I'll go. I take care of my own Tamara. You are now one of my own. I just have to share you with Sean and, what was his name? Smith?"

"So I'm still with them?" Tammy asked.

Kim spoke up. "Pretty much on paper. They can ask you to do things, you shouldn't get bored. Additional training and so on. The U.K. is your country, your home. Do what you can to protect it."

"So I now have an 'Uncle Paul' along with an 'Uncle Sean'." Tammy quipped

Dannigan smirked. "That's a way to put it, niece. Just remember, you may be charming, but I'll still crawl your ass should you screw up."

"Yes, sir. I'll do my best to avoid that." Tammy smiled.

Krystel smiled. "That's it. Fend for yourself for lunch then hit the beach and have fun, Tammy-girl. You go home tomorrow. You'll be notified in a week about your Reno Protocols institution."

Tammy shook hands with Dannigan, then saluted him. "Thank you, Sir."

Tammy experimented in Krystel's kitchen using the diet program for lunch then changed into a bikini and went to the Eastern beach. Carl waved as she approached.

Tammy smiled to see two surfboards. "This is a challenge I've always wanted to try!"

After more spectacular wipe-outs than she cared to count, Tammy finally rode in wave. Arms raised in triumph, Tammy shouted in delighted victory and saw Carl taking her picture. She rode the board until it beached, causing her to stumble on the sand. Tammy laughed and danced around cheering.

"Go on back out, catch another ride!" Carl encouraged.

Tammy picked up the board and did exactly that. By the time the sun started to set, she had successfully rode in many times. After dinner, Tammy went to sleep with a broad smile.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Saturday Tammy awoke and took to the exercise with new enthusiasm. It was her final day and she wanted to give her all. During the swim, she pushed hard to lead Krystel, but they remained abreast of each other. Coming from the surf, Tammy summoned all she had and sprinted for the runway.

"COME ON TAMMY! YOU'RE DOING IT! GO GIRL! GO! TAKE THE LINE!" Krystel yelled as they ran.

Tammy could see the usual wide line scuffed in the sand beside the runway and strained to give more. Tammy crossed the line right beside Krystel.

"ALRIGHT! BEST YET!" Krystel announced as they stopped.

"That's it! I'm knackered!" Tammy gasped.

They cooled down and went back to Krystel's for breakfast. Tammy took her time getting dressed, a light floral dress and heeled sandals after make-up and hair.

"You get a cheat-day today." Krystel told her and set down a plate of two super-thick hotcakes, crisp bacon, an egg over-easy and a bottle of maple syrup.

Tammy laughed. "Krystel, those cakes should be illegal!"

"Girl, a cheat-meal is good for morale." Krystel said as she sat down.

After breakfast, they cleaned up then packed Tammy's luggage. The new would be sent later on. Tammy enjoyed the flight back to Freeport. Krystel took her back to the hotel to check out then onto the airport.

"Time to go home. Don't go slacking. You have a pool and gym. Stay in shape, eat right and maintain your skills." Krystel advised.

Tammy laughed. "Right, I'll keep up. I'd hate for a remedial hand-to-hand lesson!"

"Want to know a secret?" Krystel smirked.

Tammy nodded. "Certainly!"

"As good as you think I am, I've never beaten Lyssa. None of us ever have. You'll see us all again at the race, but you won't be neglected. We're with you Tammy. Don't forget it. Have a quiet flight." Krystel told her.

Tammy hugged her friend. "I look forward to seeing you all again. Thanks. For everything."

Tammy picked up her carry-on and walked to the gate.

*****TBC in CP and Tamara's Tales****

Many thanks to Shiraz for letting Tamara's Tales and LKM/CP crossovers, they've been a lot of fun and I look forward to new adventures!