Extreme Exposure

All rights reserved © 2002 Mae Argilan

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Deron Douglas

ISBN: 1-894841-95-6

First Edition eBook Publication October 29, 2002

EXTREME EXPOSURE

By Mae Argilan

1

The staccato cough of machine gun fire from the advancing soldiers sent the marketplace swarming.  Civilians of every size scrambled past a distracted Glenn Prentiss, surging against her like a tidal wave.  She lost her balance and pirouetted to the ground, her limbs splaying like a newborn colt.  Her camera bag swung around her neck and struck her breastbone with a thud as she fell.  She cussed up a blue streak as her fingers were flattened under sandaled feet.  Struggling up, she fought her way to her painfully peeled knees.  It was then, glancing up from the pavement, that she saw him.

An olive-skinned youth grabbed the black holes in his chest, and slumped to the road.  An aged woman dropped behind him, opening her palms to a pastel sky.  Glenn’s left hand closed around her lens, as her right raised the camera to eye level.  In the seconds it took for the old woman to cry out to her God, the instrument snapped half a roll of film.

A tug on the back of her collar yanked Glenn to safety behind the grotesquely bent umbrella of a melon cart.  She curled up, and used her fingernail to harvest grit from the gash in her knee.  She clamped her lips tight, to keep from crying out as a pair of dusty black boots hovered nearby.  When the soldier finally galloped away, the solid black eyes of her Arab assistant made their inquiry.

"Don't worry," she said.  "I got the picture."  She made a fist, and pressed it to the center of her cotton blouse to absorb a puddle of nervous sweat.  "We're done here."

The assistant helped her to her feet, then took the elbow of a withered old man, and steadied him.  "Remember," he said, as he turned away from Glenn.  "Meet at hotel."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."  Glenn brushed sand off her shorts.  "I said, I'd be there."

She had developed a habit lately of combing her fingers through her crop of sun-whitened hair.  This time, as her hand lifted, it was trembling.  She swallowed, and surveyed the wreckage littering the street: toppled carts, crushed produce, tattered schoolbooks, and bloody corpses.

She ran her tongue over her parched lips.  "I need a drink."

Glenn turned from the carnage, and tried to remember what street the hotel was on; what town this was; what part of the Holy Land she was in.  It was impossible.  There were too many factions and territories: Arab, Israeli, Moslem, Christian, Orthodox,and a partridge in a pear tree.   She blinked her cat green eyes at the desert landscape.  It was barren, desolate, a land so empty its flatness was born into the eyes of the children.  Was there time for a few more shots?  The authorities would be back to make another sweep.  She'd have to use a wide-angle lens, no getting around that.  That meant floundering through the camera bag.  Maybe it would give her time to remember the name of the hotel.  El- something.  They all started with El-something, or Al-...

She squinted at the retreating figure of her assistant, the man who had just saved her life, as he melted into the horizon.  She wet her lips again, and cursed herself for not asking directions to the nearest bar.

2

Glenn slumped into a prickly rattan chair of the café, and ordered two fingers of whiskey.  A melody of sitar and thumb cymbals over the loudspeaker found its way to her last nerve.  She shut her eyes, and lost herself to the murmur around her.  Some women were speaking a non-Arabic language.  They could be Dutch, Swiss, or European Jews resettling the homeland.  Not that it mattered to her politically.  But, by concentrating on the voices, she was able to wait the two minutes it took to get served.  When the glistening amber whiskey arrived in a puke-green glass, she took a slow sip and the fire slid down the back of her throat.

"Hi, Glenny.  Buy you a drink?"

"Already got one."  She raised the glass to Bobby Duncan as he made himself at home at her table.  Even in civvies, he still looked like an MP.  "Have a seat?"

"Already got one.  Give a Marine a break already," he said.

"Marines have to make their own breaks.  You know that, Bobby."

"So, you remember me?"

"Sure," Glenn said.  "My camera loves you."

"What's not to love?  So, how'd the pictures come out?"

"Great.  I'll have to show them to you sometime."

"I'd like that."  Bobby grinned.  "Is that what you're doing today?  Out wasting more film?"

Glenn swallowed.  "Everybody's shooting everybody one way or another."

She avoided looking at him.  His eyes were crystal blue, and stared at her from beneath a manicured crescent of hair.  It made her feel naked when he gazed at her like that, like there was nothing she could tell him that he hadn’t already seen inside her heart.

She cleared her throat.  "I don't know how I keep pulling it off.  You know the joke about the lens cap being on.  You have to be ready for anything.  Who has time to think about details?"  She slugged down the rest of the drink.  "Look at that.  All gone.  Offer still stand?"

"Wouldn't you like some dinner?"

"Huh-uh.  Couldn't keep anything down."

"I understand," he said.  "It's rough."

"If it was easy, they wouldn't need us.  You and me, we're both the best at what each of us does.  Let's drink to us."

"Why don't we eat something first?"

"What are you trying to do, give servicemen a bad name?" Glenn asked.  "Stop being such a gentleman.  Why don’t you get me drunk, and take advantage of me?"

"A Marine doesn't do that, not if he has any honor.  We’re the police: protect and serve."

"Protect?"  She laughed. "You aren't even allowed to wear your sidearm.  I'd have a better chance of protecting you.  At least I can shoot."  She winked.  "With my camera."

"That's why I like having you around.  You make me feel so safe."

Glenn fingered the shot glass.  "Sorry.  I've got a big mouth sometimes."

"Forget it."  Bobby leaned on his elbows.  "The other day, I was talking to an Arab university student, and she was baffled by the importance of rock and roll to Americans.  When I said 'The Boss'," Bobby drew nearer, "she said, 'Oh, like Allah’."

"That's rich," Glenn laughed.  She placed her hand over his.  Her fingers walked from his wrist to the cuff of his short-sleeved shirt.  "I think my appetite is back."

"Great.  I'll get the waiter."

"I don't believe this."  She pulled away from him.  "What's wrong with me?"

"Whoa.  You’re great, believe me."  He reached for her hands.  "An oasis in this desert.  But, sweetheart, this antifreeze you drink.  What are you doing in this God-forsaken place, anyway?  You should be home, dating some rebellious young man.  Like my brother, he’d go for you in a big way."

"I wasn't built for small town traffic.  I suppose you think I should let a man do this job?"

"I think all of us should go home," Bobby said.  "Think you could smuggle me out in your camera bag?"

She lowered her voice.  "Scared?"

"That's not it.  It's the people.  I honestly like them."  He looked at her. "Don't you?"

Her eyes drifted to the mustached waiter balancing a tray on his fingers.  He stopped two tables away, and put a steaming dish before a red-haired American.

"Look," she said.  "There’s Rusty"

Bobby turned, and waved to him.  "Would you excuse me?  I have to talk to him."  He pushed himself up from the table.  "I'll send Enri over with some food."

Glenn toyed with the camera, focusing on faces: waiter, German-Swiss-Yiddish ladies, Bobby.  He was too American for her photos, but she tightened on him, and snapped three frames.  Such a hometown face, all that was missing was freckles.  She needed another drink.  One more, and the nausea would be conquered.

"I have your stew," Enri said.

She recognized Enri's mustache through the lens.  "Hi.  I've been spying on you."

He shrugged.  "I serve your stew?"

"This heat kills your appetite.  But, I am thirsty.  If you bring me another one of these I'll love you forever, and dance at your wedding."  She put the empty glass on his tray.

"The stew very good.  I leave it?"  Enri held the bowl, as if he was weighing it.

"Yeah, leave it."

Enri made a curt bow.  "Please enjoy."

He put the dish in front of her on the table, and started to walk away.  There was a flurry of activity near the entrance.  Enri stiffened, drawing Glenn’s attention toward the front of the café.  Before she could react, Enri folded in half, dropped to the floor, and began crawling away.  In light of the situation, it seemed like a good idea.

"Gun!" Glenn yelled, and dove to the ground.

She overturned the table, but lost its sound in the rattle of machine gun fire.  The stew bowl crashed to the floor, spraying vegetables at her ankles.  A half-minute later, it was all over, but the weeping.  The soldiers and their weapons disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, while the air was still thick with the sound and smoke of gunfire.  Glenn opened her eyes to the topsy-turvy world from the slate floor.

Where was Bobby?  Never mind.  He was a big strong Marine; he could take care of himself.  But, where was her camera?  She crept around on her hands and knees.  It had dropped to the other side of the table.  She dragged the back of her hand across the crust of drink, and dust on her face.  Get the camera.  That was the only thought she would permit herself.

Damn!  The lens was cracked.  A three hundred and fifty dollar Nikkor lens shot to hell.  It would cost her a month's salary to replace.  It was her favorite, too.  Telephoto lenses were for unobtrusive shots, but she preferred the wide-angle.  It forced her to get up close whether she wanted to or not.  She fumed, and cursed through clenched teeth as she changed lenses.  Now, the hard part.  She drew in a deep breath, shuddered, and breathed out.  Then, she somehow got to her feet and began moving.

Three off-duty Marines lay like lumber at the base of the table.  Snap, snap.  One face-down, glasses broken across his nose.  Close up.  Zoom, focus.Good .  Snap, snap. Rest in Peace . Rest in Pieces . Too graphic . Step back, long shot .  Last Supper. That's simple, elegant .

Now, for the two at the other table.  The two she knew.  They were so still, so quiet, so dead.  Glenn stole an abandoned beer bottle, and guzzled a third of it.  Then, she dried her palms on the pockets of her khaki shorts.

Okay, Bobby, I'm about to make you the most famous Marine since Iwo Jima.

The hollow eye blinked.  Rusty was on his side, hand draped across a perforated abdomen.  There had been no time to eat. Even a convicted criminal gets a last meal .  Click, click. Rusty and Bobby. Buddies to the end .  Kneeling, she got a tight shot of Bobby's face.  The usable shot would be the full frame showing the dark stain seeping through his pastel shirt but, for herself, she screwed the lens into focus. Bobby, you look so peaceful.  All this violence and you appear to be sleeping .  Snap, click.  Someone manhandled Glenn aside.

"Hey!" she shouted, and snapped a picture of her thigh.

"Has anyone gotten medical help for these men?"

Glenn watched as a man fussed over Rusty, and Bobby.  Then, he sat back on his heels.

"Well?" Glenn asked.  "They're... are they?"

"Yes, they're dead."   The man rose, six feet tall, and every inch of him in Glenn's way.  "Put that camera away.  You vultures make me sick."

"I'm just doing my job.  Freedom of the press."

"Doing your job?"  He moved toward her, his dark eyes smoldering beneath two brushy eyebrows.

"What do you think those assassins were doing?"  He stabbed the words at her with his index finger.

Her eyes dropped to her stew-stained sandals.  "What do you know about it?"

Her thumb moved the rewind lever.  She lifted the camera, and took a picture of her accuser’s face.  His presence was claustrophobic, and his expression reflected the exact same disgust toward her that she’d felt for herself lately.  A good photojournalist had to connect with her subject to find the truth, beauty, and realness there, yet it was crucial that she remain clinically aloof, and detached.  This was the high wire act she performed every day, teetering between empathy and objectivity, and it left her feeling unbalanced and awkward most of the time.  Being judged and evaluated by every person who followed current events didn’t help either.  Like this stranger now, this passerby.  She searched for something to say that would verbally shove him away from her.  Words that would disorient him, put him off guard, just long enough for her to find a means of escape.

"Bobby was my friend," she said, changing focus.  "I loved him."

Swiftly, she aimed her camera at the fallen hero, and took one last shot of Bobby's silent, blood-freckled face.  Then, she stepped over him and ran for the exit.

3

Glenn accepted that every pilgrimage began with a single step.  Still, it was very difficult step.  Her journey back to the living led to an unlikely residence in Hagerstown, Maryland, on a chilly evening in the middle of December.  The brick house was a single-family dwelling, with the emphasis on family: mom, dad, 2.5 kids.  As she stepped from the back seat of the cab, Glenn imagined the cozy crackle of a fireplace.  That wasn’t exactly guesswork.  A parachute of smoke hovered over a stovepipe slotted through the asphalt roof shingles.  A breeze carried the aroma to her as she navigated down the narrow, uneven sidewalk of extrusive root thrusts, and cement first-aid patches.

She put down her over-night case, opened the storm door of the brick rancher, and rapped with her knuckles.  A young man filled the doorway and scowled at her through tangled, brown ringlets.  She made up her mind about him at once: self-absorbed, sullen, conservative rich kid masquerading as a rebel.  He was long and lanky in faded blue jeans, and looked a lot like a pouty Jim Morrison at the height of his fame.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Glenn Prentiss."  Her right hand reached for his, and he looked at it.  "Are you Geoff Duncan?"

"You're the photographer?"

Daylight was fading behind the house, as she gazed up at him.  "Want some identification?"

She flashed a business card with GLENN PRENTISSPHOTOGRAPHER printed in the middle, and her address and phone number at the bottom.  Geoff made a scissors motion with two fingers, took it, and tucked it in the pocket of his snug, black T-shirt.  Glenn hugged her overcoat around her, enjoying the strange newness of it.  She had discovered it in a thrift shop when she got back to the States.  Several sizes too large, it gave her a feeling of roominess.  There were lots of pockets, for filters and lenses, and a palm-size camera.

"What do you want?" Geoff asked.

"Your family agreed to—"

"My mom agreed," he said.  "I've been at away.  I just got home from college, and found out you were on the way, looking to exploit my brother's death."

Glenn stuffed her fists deep in her pockets.  "The story's already been written.  All I need are a few candid shots of the family."

"God that's morbid!"

"Funny, some people think it’s noble."  She sighed, and glanced over her shoulder at the streetlight that was flickering on.  "Okay, big shot, what do you we do now?"

He drew his eyebrows together.  "Look, chick, we're just trying to find a way to survive that great family holiday called Christmas knowing one of our clan is gone forever."  He cleared his throat as tears welled up in his eyes.  His scowl deepened as he squared his shoulder.  "Sorry to have brought you all the way out here for nothing, but we won’t be needing whatever it is you’re selling."

"So, I spent an hour and a half of my valuable time on the road coming all the way out here just to have you slam the door in my face?  You’re a real class act, you know that?"

"I said, I’m sorry."

"Oh, well, that’s okay then, as long as you’re sorry.  I feel so much better, now."  Glenn bent for her suitcase.  "Excuse me, but I have to get this off my chest.  When the public reads about Robert Duncan they're going to share your loss.  That could make a difference, maybe even save the lives of other Marines.  You might not care about that, but Bobby would have."  She lifted her bag.  "And, if you don't know that, you never knew your brother."

"I suppose you knew him," he snapped.

"As a matter of fact, I did.  That's why I'm here.  I don’t like it any more than you do.  But, I liked him, and I felt this was one last thing I could do for him."

"Alright, alright.  You might as well come in.  For Bobby.  One thing, though.  My mom's planning to invite you to stay over.  When she does, I want you to refuse.  Okay, deal?"

Glenn pushed past him, and waited in the living room, bouncing her camera against her thighs.  A woman with salt-and-pepper hair entered, wringing her hands on a dishtowel.

"Hi."  Glenn smiled.  "I'm Glenn Prentiss."

"Oh," said the woman.  "I was expecting a... um..."

"A man.  That's okay.  It's my professional name.  Photojournalists named Glenda don’t always get taken very seriously."

"Glenda.  That's a nice Scottish name," Mrs. Duncan said.

"Call me Glenn," she said, opening her coat.  "Mind if I get out of these?"

"Have you had dinner?" Mrs. Duncan asked.  "I can warm up something."

"It smells wonderful."

Glenn kept her eyes on the mother, but was peripherally aware of every move Geoff made as he hovered nearby.

"Mom makes the best lasagna," he said.

"It’s Geoff's favorite.  I try to have it when he's home."   Mrs. Duncan sat on the edge of the couch.  "How will this work?"

"I’ll observe your family first.  Is it just the two of you, then?" Glenn asked.

"And my husband, upstairs."   Mrs. Duncan fidgeted with her towel.  "These pictures are for a magazine article about Bobby?"

"About all the Marines who died, that's right," Glenn said.

Mrs. Duncan said, "They said you were a friend, that you were with him when... it happened.  I still can't believe anybody would hurt him.  Uh, my husband and I are going away for the holiday, but you're welcome to stay with Geoffy and look through photo albums, if that helps."

"Nobody told us you were planning a trip.  How nice.  When are you leaving?" Glenn asked.

"Flight is tomorrow morning."

Glenn stood.  "Then I'll be back early tomorrow."

"Oh, no.  You’ll stay with us," Mrs. Duncan said.  "It's the only thing that makes sense.  We want to be at Dulles by 9:00 AM."

"But, I have reservations at," Glenn scanned her memory, "The Ramada."

"Cancel them.  Geoff, take her bags to the guest room," Mrs. Duncan said.  "I've already made up the bed."

She took Glenn's hands, and squeezed them, then left the room.

"What's the matter with you?" Geoff said.  "You're not staying.  We had an agreement."

"Read the fine print.  I didn't agree to anything."

His eyes narrowed, then he led her to a wooden door, flung it open, and went in.  Glenn lifted her camera bag and overnight case, and followed him down a stairway to the guestroom.  Geoff sat on the end of the sofa, and stared at her.

"Look, my Mom sees the best in everyone.  But, don't think you're putting anything over on me.  She's doing this for her poor murdered son.  It gives her the illusion she has some control over what happened.  If that helps her."  Geoff shrugged.

His gaze was steady and strong, and eerily familiar.  Even though his eyes weren’t sparkling blue like Bobby’s, they had the same penetrating quality.

"But," he said, "I'm keeping an eye on you."

She looked away.  "Good luck."

"They say the eyes are the windows to the soul," Geoff said.  "And, yours have little shutters on them."

"Not that this isn't fun, but I have work to do," Glenn said.  "Who knows?  I could get lucky and get what I need tonight, and be out of your hair."

"Well, in that case, let me carry your bag."  He grabbed the strap, and stood in one motion.  "Jeez.  What have you got in here?"

"Sledgehammer, crow bar... the usual," Glenn said.  "If it's too heavy for you—"

"It just took me by surprise."  Geoff started up the stairs.  "It's funny.  You see photographers zooming around, and it seems like their equipment doesn't weigh anything."

"What about the e.n.g. guys?  Hauling video cameras, following the action.  Electronic news.  They're the ones I admire," Glenn said.

"I have a friend who works for the TV news, but I never thought about it."

"Course not.  That’s the whole point."

They entered the family room where Mr. and Mrs. Duncan were watching some cable news station.  Mr. Duncan said, "Hello," when Geoff introduced him.

Mrs. Duncan offered a seat beside her on the couch.  Glenn placed her bag on the sofa between herself and Mrs. Duncan.  Light from the TV illuminated Robert Duncan, Sr.’s face, and the front of his shirt.  There was an expression on his face of sadness and fatigue, and interest and boredom.  Glenn got up and stood in front of the west window pretending to take readings.  It was something she did to distract the subject, like a magician at a child’s party.  Heaven help the photojournalist who had to stop to take light readings while running for her life. Presto, chango .  She exchanged the light meter for the camera, and pointed it at Mr. Duncan.  They heard the shutter, and looked at her.  She advanced, locked, and shot again.

"Light readings," she said.

Mr. Duncan began to say something, but Mrs. Duncan cleared her throat, and a look passed between them.  He set his lips in a hard line.  News of the Middle East came on, and Glenn was invisible once more.  Stepping into the dining room, she panned a shot of the husband and wife awaiting the anchorman’s pronouncements.  Who lived?  Who died?  Were they ‘theirs’ or ‘ours’?  The couple strained toward the television, their faces taut, putting their trust in the network news.

No human being should have so much control over others, Glenn thought, and she captured them on film.  Two, three frames.  Next, she turned to Geoff who was slumped down in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest, and took two pictures of him.  Then, she retreated downstairs to the guestroom.  Geoff followed her.

"I got it.  I wasn't sure until tonight, but I've got a good feeling about this.  It's going to be all right.  You'll see."

"Who are you trying to convince?"  Geoff pressed his lips together like his father had done.  "You coming up?"

"Let me put my gear away."

Glenn watched Geoff climb the steps, then moved around the basement with her camera.  The ceiling was low, painted white.  Angling the flash toward it, she wound the strap around her wrist.  Starting at the laundry room, she rotated counterclockwise, clicking the shutter every four to five feet.

Several hours later, when everyone was tucked in for the night, Glenn retrieved her luggage, and let herself out the side door.  She slipped into a sleepy city.  Down the block, the light of a tavern sign flashed a golden invitation.  She shivered. Calm down.  Everything is under control .  She wrapped her coat around her slender body and clung to the suitcase handle as she waited for her ride.  A pair of headlights flashed.  She crossed the street, opened the passenger side door of the cab, and got in the front seat.

About the last person she expected to see behind the wheel was Philip Bleetz.  He was a legendary photojournalist, and the only man she had ever loved.  They hadn’t crossed paths since she was 19, not since things had gotten ugly between them.  And, now unbelievably, here he was, insinuating himself into her private life.  How was it he was always able to sense when she was at her most vulnerable?  He could sniff out her desperation with the unerring precision of a shark from a hundred miles away.

Phil looked sideways at her, and smiled.  "Hey, baby doll."

One thing that had changed about him was his appearance.  His hair was all one length now, bobbed above the collar, and swept straight back from his widow's peak, like Eddie Munster. Appropriate , she thought,dark and slick .  The sinister look suited him much better than the clean-cut, choirboy image he’d had when she first met him.

"I don’t suppose this is just a freaking coincidence?"

"Of course, it is."

He put the cab into gear, and steered down Cleveland Avenue, turning left onto Dual Highway.

"Then, how come you don’t look surprised to see me?"

"You’re surprised enough for both of us."  Phil curled the right side of his hair behind his ear.  "So, did you do the job?"

"You're just the driver, so drive."

Phil oozed that insufferably superior smile of his.  "Not true, little one.  Let's go to my place, and see what develops."

He slowed down for a red light, then grinned at her, and accelerated through it.  She clutched her camera bag to her chest.

"These go to Shane."  She gazed out the side window.

"What's the matter, sweet thing?"  Phil squeezed her leg above the knee.  She pulled his index finger back.  "Ow!  Hm, so you're into pain games now."

"Pig."

"Aw, I'm just playing wit'cha.  Ease up girl."

"Stop the car," she said.

"We're just getting on the freeway."

She grabbed hold of the door handle.  "Stop the damn car, and let me out."

"Stop shrieking, or I'll wrap the damn car around a damn telephone pole."

"Well, that oughta stop you."

"What do you wanna do?  Walk home?"

She paused.  "Just stop long enough for me to get in the back.  You want to play chauffeur, so chauf, already."

"You want in back, you can climb over."

"Do you always have to be such a bastard?  You'd like that wouldn't you?  Me, heels over head."

"What am I gonna do?  I'm driving.  I’ll keep both hands on the wheel."

Glenn scowled.  "Either hand leaves the wheel, I break your wrist."

"Swear to God," Phil said.  "Wouldn’t want it any other way."

First, Glenn’s bags went in the back.  As her hands touched the rear seat, she felt Phil’s teeth on the fleshy part of her hip.  She squirmed, but he bit again.  She jerked her leg across the seat, and kneed him in the jaw.  The cab jumped across two lanes, spraying gravel under the wheel well, and dumping her on the floorboards in back.  She sprang at him, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked his head back over the seat.

"Hey!  I'm trying to drive here," he said, laughing.

Glenn untangled her fingers from his hair.  "What did I ever see in you?"

Phil adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see her.  She wouldn't have been able to tell how gray his eyes were if she wasn't so familiar with them.  From there, they just looked pale.  She remembered what Geoff Duncan had said about the eyes being the windows of the soul, and she had no desire to look into the soul of Phil Bleetz.

"Eyes front," she said, and leaned into the corner.  "I can't believe my luck.  What are the odds?"

"Either speak up, or shut up," Phil said.

"I'm not talking to you, moron."

"Aw, come back up here.  It's a long drive.  I could use the company."

"You could use Electro-shock treatments."

Phil chuckled.  "We got a lot of catching up to do.  What're you afraid of?  I don't bite."  He laughed again.  "Come on, babe, holding a grudge'll make you old before your time.  Forgive and forget."

"Easy for you to say.  I didn't do anything to you," Glenn said.

"Okay, I'm sorry I bit you.  But, you always had such a tasty ass."

"Eat worms, and die."

"Gosh, I’ve missed your fire.  Admit it, nobody ever fought harder than us, or made up harder.  You know, in this light, you look like a boy.  What'd you do to your beautiful hair?"

"Cut it."

"Cut?  Scalped is more like it," he said.

"As if it's any of your business."

"Well, I did used to wash it.  Remember?  We'd sit in the bath tub together, you between my knees, your head on my chest…"

"Please!  Don't speak to me any more.  Not about that.  Not about anything."

"Just reminiscing.  Doesn't hurt to remember the good times," Phil said.

"That's a convenient memory you've got.  What about the bad times?  Did you forget all the lying, and cheating you did?"

"Man, you sure have gotten to be one bitter little bitch.  What's wrong with you?  Oh, I know.  You ain't had a real man since I left ya, huh?"

"You left me?" she said.  "Interesting revision of history."

"Come on up here with old Phil.  I'll take the kinks out for you."

Glenn clenched both fists.  "What do I have to do to make you shut up?  Say I forgive you?  No.  I don't forgive you.  You're a despicable human being, and I'll hate you as long as you live."

She kicked the back of his seat.  He threw her a kiss, and readjusted the mirror so she was out of his line of sight.  But, he kept laughing, and she had no choice but to put up with it for the next sixty minutes.  All she could do was wriggle down in her seat, chew on her lip, and listen to Phil Bleetz's evil insane cackle.

4

Shane Singleton’s townhouse never looked more inviting.  Even before the cab came to a full stop, Glenn was out and running.

"Hey," Phil yelled.  "Wait for me."

Glenn clutched her camera bag, and overnight case, and took the front steps two at a time.  The doorbell shone shell pink.  She crooked her arm, and jabbed it with her elbow.  Then, she kicked the bottom of the aluminum storm door with her toe.  It swung open, and she slipped inside.  Phil tried to follow, but Shane blocked his way.

"No way," Phil said.  "I’m sticking to her until I get the photos."

"This is my house," Shane said.  "I say who's welcome, and who's not.  Glenny is always welcome."  Shane beamed at her, then his eyes grew cold.  "You are not."

Phil tried to wedge his shoulder inside the door.  "I have to make sure she does it right."

"Glenn Prentiss doesn't need your help.  Never did, never will," Shane said.

"How do I know she won't try to hold back on me?" Phil asked.

Shane looked at Glenn.  "How many exposures on that roll?"

"Huh?  Thirty-six, of course."

"Thirty-six," Shane said to Phil.  "She'll surrender 36 exposures, okay?  You'll count them.  You can count, can't you?  Now go sit on the curb with the rest of the trash."

Shane's hand sprawled across Phil's chest.  A vein in Phil's neck bulged, and his face reddened.  Then, he was on the other side of the door.

Shane shook his head.  "Some guys are really pushy."  He put his arm around Glenn’s shoulder.  "I was afraid something awful had happened to you."

"Something worse than Bleetz?  No, I'm fine.  I'll be even better when this is over."  She put her bags down on the blue brocade sofa, and let Shane help her out of her coat.

"Still," Shane said.  "I would've loved to see your face when you saw Phil."

"Oh, yeah, it was a real riot."

"What did you do, scream and faint?  No, I know, you punched him in the nose."

"I wish.  No, I skulked off to the back seat."  She glanced at him.  "Not before he bit me, though."

"You're kidding?  Really?"

"As I was crawling over the seat, he bit me on the butt."

"What is it about you that brings out the animal in that guy?  Nope, don't answer that, I don't want to know.  Lizbeth is sleeping.  Said to give you a kiss."  He put a hand on each shoulder, and put his cheeks against hers, European style.  "Ready to get to work?"

Glenn picked up her camera.  She cradled it on her forearm, and removed the film from the back.  Shane lifted the overnight case, and looked at it.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

"The government’s.  Isn't it ugly?"

"So, you’re done?  The Duncan family is wired for sound?"

"They get any more bugs, they're gonna need an exterminator."  Glenn yawned, and rubbed her eyes.  "I'd love some coffee... Irish.  Coffee to stay awake, and Irish…"

"Irish for your nerves, I know.  Is instant okay?"

"The instanter the better," she said.

Glenn went into the closet-sized darkroom.  A small developing tank sat on the counter.  She pried off the lid, and removed the stainless steel take-up reel.  With the cartridge of film in her left hand, she switched out the light with her little finger, then rapped the bottom spindle on the counter's surface, forcing the exposed film through the top of the cassette.  She hooked the film to the clip in the center of the reel, and bowed the film between her thumb and index finger.  Slick as a whistle.  She could do it with her eyes closed.  She rotated the spool, wound the film out, and fed it onto the reel.  When it was finished, she lowered the spool into it, pressed the lid in place, and turned on the light.

Shane arrived with a see-through, glass mug filled with a dark liquid.  The white etching on the side saidPhillips Crab House, Harbourplace .  The coffee was lukewarm, and she swallowed half of it before handing the cup to Shane.

"You only had the developer at 68 degrees," she said.  "I could've shaved a couple minutes if you’d raise the temperature."

"Two minutes one way or the other never hurt anybody."

"Tell that to the bomb squad."   She smiled at him.

"So, I suppose you'll be wanting a hair dryer?  You young people, always in a hurry.  Your chemistry is mixed, and prepared."

"I noticed.  Thanks."  She leaned against Shane’s broad shoulder.  "Better cook me up another coffee.  I'm dead."

"Poor baby."  He kissed the top of her head.

"Man, I don't want to be doing this tonight."

Shane squeezed her shoulder.  "Come on, suck it up.  I'll put the kettle on for when you're ready for a refill, 'kay?"

"'Kay.  Don't forget the hair dryer."

Shane returned in ten minutes.  The film had been in the stop bath, the fixer, the hypo clear, and was rinsing when he tapped on the door.  Glenn grunted, "Uh-huh," and added a few drops of wetting agent to the tank.

"Any way you'd consider letting these air dry, and get back to it in the morning?" he asked.

"Don't I wish," Glenn said.

"Just do a contact sheet."

"If I do that I've got to give them the negatives."

"They're getting them anyway," he said.

"Only the shots of the house.  The others are mine."

"You have to give them 36 negatives."

"That's right, 36."  Glenn looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

He studied her.  "I see.  You're still bulk-loading your film."

"You know me, I never change."

He pursed his lips.  "So you got 40 exposures in the film cartridge?"

"Actually," she said, taking the coffee cup, and draining it.  "I squeezed in 41.  Like bullets in a beretta—40 in the clip, and one in the pipe."  She made a gun with her finger and thumb.  The hammer dropped, and she said, "Pew, pew."

"And, Phil doesn't know this about you, as intimate as you were?"

"He never cared to find out.  To him, there's no such thing as real career women, just sluts with day jobs."

"His loss."  Shane hitched his arm around Glenn’s neck, and she put the cup in his hand.  "Isn't this cozy?"

"Cozy as a coffin.  Everybody move back, they're done."  She freed an inch of film from the reel, and attached it to a clip.  She attached another clip to the bottom, and suspended the film on a wire.  "Now, for the dryer."

"Come out, and have your coffee.  We have to plan before you print."

"There isn't time," she said.

"This will save time, you know that.  Come on, let's think this through before we go any further."

"How about, the second I finish the contact sheet, I bring it out, and we study it."

He made an OK sign with his fingers, and left.  She sliced the first five shots off the roll, and printed the rest, in six rows of six.  These, she brought to Shane, who studied each of the 1 inch by 1 and 1/2 inch squares with a magnifying glass, and jotted notations on a pad.

Glenn closed her eyes, sipped the hot beverage, and listened to Shane cluck, and grumble, and hum.  If there was anyone who loved the job more than Glenn, it was Shane.  He was always warning her, "Don’t make the same mistakes I did.  If it weren't for my dear wife I'd still be rinsing my socks out on the wet bench.  What kind of life is that?"

What kind of life? My life, my life .  Glenn felt herself slipping away.  Her neck went limp, and her cheek came to rest on the tablecloth.  A crumb of food nestled into her skin near the corner of her eye.  She wondered what kind of food it was?  Toast, from a meal hours ago?  Breakfast? Toast and jam, bacon and eggs.  English muffins with squares of butter .  How long since she'd eaten?  Just a little nap, and she'd be ready to set the world on fire.  Fire, fire... ready, aim, FIRE!

A sound detonated her head off the table.  Her focus zeroed in on a belt buckle.  Raising her sights, she saw Shane’s sympathetic eyes.  She looked at the vacant chair on the other side of the table, and realized that was what she'd heard.  The simple sliding of chair legs on linoleum.  Why did it sound like thunder? Why does everything sound like thunder?   Why did she always explode out of sleep counting one Mississippi, two Mississippi, waiting for lightning to strike?

Shane picked the crumb off her face.  "I'll handle the enlarging while you run them through the soup.  Once we get on a roll, I figure we can keep 5 prints afloat at any given moment."

"A man with a plan," Glenn said.

"Your shots are all sharp and clear, with the same basic brightness, I trust?"

"Naturally."

"Assuming you can manage to keep your eyes open another thirty minutes.  Okay, here we go.  Eight-by-ten glossies?"

"After you."  Glenn followed him to the darkroom.

The first photo came to life, awash in the glow of the orange safelight.  Glenn’s fatigue and anxiety began to vanish. I did this.  It started as a thought in my head and here it is for the entire world to see, concrete proof that I exist, that I have talent.  I'm good; I'm really good.   Glenn poked a photo under water with plastic tongs, swished, then lifted it out of the pan.  Forty-five minutes later, she was humming, and hanging 8x10 glossies up by the corners like a Lithuanian laundress.  Water ran off the RC paper in beads.  Soon, all the photographs had accumulated on the end of the dry bench.  Shane shuffled through them, nodding his approval of her curly-edged offspring.  Then, he slipped them into a brown envelope with the negatives, and delivered them to Phil outside.

Fifteen minutes later, Philip Bleetz was on the threshold of the sixth-floor apartment as per his instructions.  It was all very spy-vs-spy—which made Phil feel very important and dangerous.  He knocked on the door twice, paused, then rapped twice again.  He had to fight hard to contain his giddiness when the door opened.

Eric Pippin was a slender man with fine blond hair.  He let Phil step only a few feet into the foyer, where he took the envelope.

"So how are things at Club Fed?" Phil asked, then looked past Pippin.  "Where's your partner?"

Pippin peered into the envelope.  "Wait here."

Half a minute later, Phil watched fifteen 100-dollar bills being counted into his hand.  He folded them in half.  "Not a bad day’s work, huh?"

"About as much as a good call girl makes a night," Pippin said.

"Hey, you’re the one pimping for Uncle Sam."  Phil looked at his watch.  "Actually, it's tomorrow.  Couldn't you at least cough up a little O.T.?  No?  Hey, can't blame a guy for trying."

"You have your government's gratitude."

"I'd rather have a cushy job like yours.  Have you talked to your superiors about me?  I could be a real asset to your undercover operations."

"They’re taking it under advisement."  Pippin reached for the doorknob.

"Okay, well.  Give your partner my love."  Phil looked over his shoulder, and then was on the other side of a door for the second time that night.

Eric ‘Pip’ Pippin was a genuinewunderkind —24 years old, a unique combination of nerve and insight, and the best agent Sadie Cozzoli had ever partnered with.  Only one week into it Pip had justified her faith in him by profiling Singleton and Prentiss perfectly.  Sadie studied him through the slats of the coat closet.  Even now, nothing about his demeanor gave her away.  It was almost as if he forgot she was there.  His eyes flickered to the envelope, and a fine line formed across his porcelain brow.

Sadie asked, "Are you going to open the door?"

"I thought you'd rather shoot your way out."

Sadie pointed the snub barrel of her Colt 380 Mustang at the closet ceiling, and thumbed the safety back on.  "That's the last time I cover your back."

"Come on out," he said, and opened the louvered door of the closet.

Sadie was an attractive brunette, medium height, medium build, and clear brown eyes.  She had her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, accentuating her heart-shaped face.  She returned the weapon to the black leather triangle sitting on her left hip.

"That should be our last visitor for the night."  She put her hand out.

Pip gave her the pictures, and watched her move into the adjoining room.  A funnel-shaped telescope was slung on a tripod.  An oval dining table held electronic equipment: computer, laser printer, audio headsets, and portable crosscut shredder.  Sadie placed the envelope on the table, and began sorting through the photographs.

"We'll go with these."  She pulled her chair up to the table, and attacked the computer keyboard.  "We'll have the lab digitize them, but for now we can manipulate them graphically.  These are very nice.  Prentiss does good work."  Sadie entered a password into the computer.

"Bleetz was even more predictable than I’d hoped," Pip said.  "He’s so narcissistic.  We dangle the carrot in front of the hoop and he leaps right through it."

"Love those carrots.  Money, power," Sadie said.

"A date with a pretty CIA agent," Pip said.

"Who he thinks is FBI."  Sadie laughed.  "From Mata Hari, right on through 007.  Absolute hiney, corrupts absolutely."

"Did you see the way he was sniffing around here?" Pip asked.

"Like you said, predictable.  I was safe in my little closet with my big gun.  I'm always prepared."

"To protect me, or your honor?" he asked.

"Simply following procedure.  I have no honor."  Sadie ran her finger across a crescent-shaped scar on her chin.  "Grab those files.  Once more around the block.  Don’t want to get sloppy now."

Pip pulled up a chair, planted his elbows on the table, and stared into a manila folder.  "There's an element in Bleetz, beyond materialism.  Lasciviousness?  Like this pornography thing.  He has a recklessness.  He crosses back and forth across the line.  And, now he's got a hose siphoning cash directly from the U.S. Treasury."

"That’s how we control him, the pornography thing," Sadie said.  "We know he trades in it.  All we have to do is let him know we know.  If it comes to that, which it won't, because of the overriding sense of his own importance.  He feels superior, that he knows something other people don't."

"But, what's he going to do when you reject him—because that's how he's going to view it.  Look at to what he’s done to Glenn Prentiss for something that happened three years ago.  The way I see it his overriding passion is vengeance."

"You want something to worry about, worry about Prentiss.   She's the wild card."

"I still don't get that.  She's not particularly patriotic, has no family to exploit, no real ties.  She has ambition, but it's tempered by a certain integrity.  You can't get a fix on her values, so you can't predict how far she'll go."

Sadie nodded.  "It's risky."

"I'm surprised you got her cooperation at all."  Pip opened Glenn's file, and leafed through it.

"Oldest trick in the book," Sadie said.

"Sex?"

"Guilt.  The roots to this go way back, even before the war in the Persian Gulf.  Everyone was flexing, but there wasn't any act big enough to light the fuse."

"So, one had to be manufactured," Pip said.  "You explained that to me before."

"Our objective was to break the back of OPEC, and the alliance of the United Arab States.  Saddam Hussein was crazy as a bedbug.  Anyone could see he was about to do a swan dive into the deep end.  But, our government was married to him.  We'd made all kinds of promises to get help with the Iran problem in the 80's.  Did you ever wonder what made him wake up one morning, and decide to invade Kuwait?"

Pip stood up, slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and paced away from the table.  "That was before my time, but I would imagine it would require a little abracadabra."

"We whispered in his ear, gave him the impression it was cool with us.  When a person wants something badly enough, he can be very selective about what he believes.  Iraq was on the brink of nuclear enlightenment.  We had to split him before he split the atom.  But, the Arab world would have risen up against us ifwe had started the war."

"Instead, we provoked him to be the aggressor, to attack an Arab nation, so we could step in with a big stick, and swat him," Pip said.

"And, liberate a wealthy nation from the big bully.  Kuwait was a deliberate choice.  I don’t know if you remember, but we’d been negotiating with Kuwait for 8 years to let us set up a defensive base like in Saudi Arabia.  They were afraid of how it would appear to their Arab brothers.  So, the invasion was our way of saying, ‘I told you so’.  No proof of this exists, of course.  What do you know about double exposures?  Like if you put Woody Allen's head on Schwarzenegger's body."

"I think Conan the Republican would reject that transplant," Pip said.

"Okay, Nixon's head.  You can do amazing things with computers.  But, you start out with a real photograph to preserve the integrity of the illusion.  So, this civilian takes pictures, and we use them to invent an alternate reality."  Sadie exchanged a putty-colored disc for a round, gold one and injected it into the exterior drive.  "I access a picture.  By changing the background, I put him in front of the Eiffel Tower, or the Taj Mahal."

"Even my untrained eye can tell that's manufactured," Pip said.

"Not if the subjects are interactive.  I'll remove the man...replace him with Atlas...position him around until he's...there.  Atlas is holding the moon on his shoulders.  Change the expression on his face, and you can make him appear to be straining under the weight."

"That photograph in the Prentiss file, is it one she took, or one you manufactured?"

He dug out two 8x10 black-and-whites.  One was a picture of Glenn Prentiss squinting past the border of the print at his left thumb.  The other was a U. S. Marine, standing over the body of an Arab with his weapon trained on an elderly woman.

"That one is courtesy of Bleetz.  If you look closely, you can tell the soldier is superimposed, because the lighting differs slightly.  See the shadows?  Prentiss took two photos, several days apart.  Bleetz lifted the Marine from his platoon, and pasted him here in this scene.  It's good, don't you think?"

"Incendiary," Pip said. "Is this responsible for their deaths?"

"No.  That was a genuine tragedy.  It never should have happened, but once it did, the Investigative Branch of the Armed Forces got involved."

"The AFIB started this?"

"Prentiss was there, an eye witness.  The AFIB picked her up, and that should have been the end of it.  For some reason they re-opened the investigation, and we figured it was in our best interest to find out why.  The CIA has taken a lot of abuse lately about the holes in our intelligence gathering.  Just what we needed, the military coming up with another excuse to make us look bad.  So, we posed as AFIB to question her first, but she was reluctant to cooperate.  So, we flashed that picture of Robert Duncan, and convinced her it was the cause of the terrorist attack on the servicemen in that café.  Even though she wasn't responsible for the double exposure, she was the one who took the originals.  After that, it was simple to convince her to plant surveillance in the Duncan home.  She thinks a band of Moslem extremist are trying to finish what they started by annihilating his family."

"Brilliant.  Straight out of the 1960’s edition of the KGB handbook.  And, not all that far-fetched.  To imagine there are religious fanatics in the United States?  Sounds like you played her right."

Sadie smiled and shrugged.  "Still.  She believes she was an accessory in the deaths.  She's atoning for that.  The violence of the shooting is etched like acid in her memory.  She can't bear to think of that happening again.  But, I don't like using external motivation.  It's too iffy.  If something happens to the motivation, there goes the girl.  She has an unusual stubbornness.  Since I've been watching her, I've learned to have a wary respect for her."

"She's no match for you.  You make such meticulous plans," Pip said.

"She does remind me of myself.  I like her, but I’m keeping my options open.  If it all goes south, we can eliminate her without anyone batting an eye."

"Except maybe the AFIB.  They don't approve of our methods."

Sadie shrugged.  "Accidents happen.  I heard about an uncooperative clerical worker in the House, who was on her way home when she found herself raped, robbed, and beaten within an inch of her life not more than two blocks from the Capitol."

"D.C. stands for Dangerous City, especially after dark."

"You're telling me.  Car-jackings, drive-bys, random violence of every kind.  These are dangerous times we live in, Pip."  She shook her head.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side."  He looked at her with grudging admiration.  "There's a bit of Lady Macbeth in you, isn't there?"

"Not really," she said, deleting Atlas from her screen.  "Lady M never did acquire her target."

5

Glenn sprang for a cab ride home from Bethesda.  The cabby was thin and pale, and had a faded cap clamped over spikes of hair.  If his nose were a painted triangle he'd make a perfect scarecrow.  He made no attempt to engage her in conversation.  She was able to settle back and watch the landmarks march past.  Off Old Georgetown Road was the National Institute of Health.  The sight pleased her in a vague humanistic way.

A bastion of medical research, a symbol of hope, a Statue of Liberty for the suffering masses yearning to breathe free.  There’s a photographic essay in it somewhere, a collage of Washington's famous monuments with NIH as the hub... or a spoke... the whites stark, marbleized, and the shadows prominent and brooding.

She wrote captions in her head while they traveled along Route 1.  It was hard keeping her eyes open along that stretch, even harder as they reached College Park.  At least with Phil there was never a danger of dozing, not with that laugh of his, not with him shooting off his big mouth.  It was like navigating through a minefield when Phil Bleetz was in the driver's seat.

Glenn arrived home, dug the money out of her pocket, and tipped the cabby two dollars she couldn’t afford.  At the end of the main corridor inside her building she swung left, and stopped at the first door on the right.  The hall light was ‘non-functioning’, making it necessary for her to screw her eyeball to the front lock to insert her key.  She was bending over when she heard the footsteps loping out of the darkness, but she couldn't react fast enough to save her life.

"Jacqmel King!  You scared me to death.  I thought you were a mugger."

"Good thing I'm not," Mel said.  His grin was the only thing she could see.  "If I was, you'd be deader than dirt.  Gimme your key.  I'll open it for you."

"Thanks."

"My eyes are useder to the dark than yours.  I been here longer."

Mel squeezed in beside Glenn, and took the key.  She put her hand on his arm to convince herself she was among friends.  He jiggled the lock, then smiled down at her.  "Ta da!"

"How long've you been waiting?" She asked, picking up her gear.

"Seems like a year.  Where you been?"

"Out of town, mostly."

Mel pushed open the front door.  Glenn stumbled inside, and snapped on the light.  Mel closed the door and fastened the chain as Glenn fell on the tattered sofa.

Jacqmel King was fifteen, tall and lean, with handsome features, and green eyes.  His coloring, which appeared so dark in the hallway, was a coffee tone.  His black hair was sculpted into a flattop.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Coming up on 3:00 AM, I guess.  Was I expecting you?"

"Mama got called into work last minute."

"That is the workingest woman I ever met in my life," Glenn said.

"Tell me about it.  She goes into work, and I get left on your doorstep like some orphan baby.  I don't know when she's gonna figure out I can take care o' myself."

"Sure you can.  You know she trusts you.  She just doesn’t want you to accidentally become a statistic of juvenile violence due to some of the other fine citizens we have for neighbors.  Besides, if you didn't come over, who'd take care o' me?"

Mel laughed.  "That's a fact.  Well, I gotta get some sleep."

"Take the bedroom," Glenn said.  "I got the couch.  Hey, what day is it?  Is this a school night?"

"I ain't goin'."

"Like hell you're not.  Go park yourself in that bedroom, and set the alarm for whatever time you get up," she said.

"But they ain't doin' nothin' important tomorrow.  It's just games, and parties for Christmas and all."

"All the more reason.  I keep you home, and your mama's gonna come over here and commit Glenda-cide, and you know that's a fact.  She holds down two and a half jobs, all she asks is for you to get educated.  That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Damn!"  He stomped his foot on the floor.

"Hey, hey!  Watch your language.  Now come here, and give Auntie Glenn a hug or there won’t be nothing left of you but an oily stain where you used to be."  Glenn kissed him on the cheek.  "Sorry I got home so late."

"Night."

"Night.  And, remember not to wake me up when you get yourself off to school."

"I'll tiptoe."

"I think there's some cereal in the cupboard, but I wouldn't take bets on the milk not being rotten."

"That's okay.  I'll pickpocket you, and buy me a muffin at Mickey D's."

"Wonderful, I just knew I was gonna wind up getting mugged tonight.  Oh, and throw my nightshirt out here to me, will ya?  It's on the bed."

He was back with it a moment later, and with a pillow and blanket.  As soon as the sofa was under her back, Glenn started dreaming.  And, no sooner had the dream begun, than she sprang out of it breathing hard, and staring into the shifting shadows of her living room.  She threw the covers off, and scampered across the kitchen floor.  The cold was so intense her feet ached, but she stood her ground long enough to fill a tumbler with wine that had the taste of cherry Kool-Aid and the kick of White Lightning.  She toe-danced back to the couch where she drank it, belched, and huddled once again under the blanket.  This time she grabbed sleep in her arms, and wrestled it into submission, until a sound pounded it out of her grasp again.

There was a knock, followed by an echo between her ears.  She wrapped the pillow around her head, and buried her face in the back of the couch.  There was more noise, and a hissing of voices.  Then, a hand was on her shoulder.

"Pst, Glenn.  Some guy’s here," Mel said.

"Hung-uh," she groaned.

"Come on, you wanna see this guy?"

"No."

After more whispering, Mel was back.  "He ain’t takin’ ‘no’ for an answer."

Glenn coughed up the word, "Who?"

"Some white dude."

She shook her head, and Mel left again.  When he returned the third time, she knew sleep was gone for good.

"He says he gotta see ya."

She moistened her parched lips with a Velcro tongue.  The way her luck was running, it was probably Bleetz.  She squinted her eyes.  Mel was standing at the door wearing an open shirt, boxer shorts, and high-top sneakers without socks.  He had her baseball bat on his shoulder.

"Mel," she said.  "It’s okay.  I’ll take care of it.  Get ready for school."

"What do ya think I was doing?"

Glenn pulled the blanket around her hips, and scooted to the edge of the couch.  She closed her eyes, took a slow steady breath, then hazarded another peek.  She shuffled to the door wearing her skit-blanket.  As Mel headed for the bathroom, she said, "Give me Louie," and took the bat from him.  "Somebody’s about to get a whoopin’."

How Mel knew the tall figure in the hallway was a white dude she’d never know.  Glenn flicked the switch inside her apartment, which made it bright in there, but just as dark outside.  She opened the door as wide as the security chain allowed.

"Get the hell outta here, Phil.  Phil?  Answer me.  What do you want?"

"No.  I’m not Phil."

"Well, who the hell are you?"

"Geoff."

"I don’t know any Geoff."  She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples.  "Go away."

"Duncan, Geoff Duncan...remember?"

"No.  Can you come back later?  I’m not feeling very well."

"You were at my house last night...in Hagerstown."  He put his face close to the door.  "Bobby’s brother."

"Oh.  What are you doing here?  How did you know where I live?"

A small white card came through the opening.  Glenn leaned on the bat.  The last time she saw that card he was slipping it into his shirt pocket.  She’d taken it as a sign of disinterest.  But, he was putting it aside in case he needed it.  For what?

"What do you want?"

"Let me in, and I’ll tell you."

"Minute."  She slammed the door, and unlatched the chain.  "Sorry, but I’m not even sure of my own name before my first cup of coffee."  She shuffled back to the sofa.  "Besides, can’t be too careful in this neighborhood."

Mel came out of the bathroom, and stared at Geoff.  "You okay?"

"Yeah," Glenn said.

Mel continued staring.  "You sure?"

"Yes, Jacqmel, this guy is harmless," she said.  "Now, hurry up, you’re already late for school."

Mel walked to the bedroom, turned, and said, "I’ll be right inside getting dressed, if you need me."

Glenn turned her trained eye on Geoff.  He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a berry red T-shirt.  His fingers were shoved into the front pockets of jeans that were the same shade of black as his Nikes, and his eyes were on Jacqmel.  What did he think about her having an African-American adolescent in her apartment in the morning, in his underwear?

She sat on the sofa in a heap of blankets.  "You had something to tell me?"

Geoff sat in the corner of the couch.  "Now that I’m here, it seems kind of stupid."

"You won’t get an argument from me.  You may have noticed, I’m not a morning person."

The bedroom door opened, and Mel came through the living room.  "I can stay.  If you want."

"Go to school, Jacqmel.  Oh, let me get you some money," Glenn said.

"I already got it."

"Your books?" she asked.

"I’ll pick ‘em up next door."  Mel shot one more look at Geoff.  "See ya," he said, opening the front door.  "Wouldn’t wanna be ya."

"See ya," she said.  "Have a good one."

Geoff asked, "How old is he?"

"Fifteen.  Shocked?"

"A little."

"Let me guess.  You’re a redneck bigot?  What a surprise."

"Obviously there’s nothing sexual going on since you’re sleeping out here," Geoff said.

"Maybe I got kicked out of bed for snoring."

Geoff shook his head.  "No, but he is protective of you.  But, it has more of a friend feel to it, or a son protecting his mom, except his schoolbooks are next door.  So, you’re being a good neighbor, and that means you’re probably a decent human being.  That’s what shocks me."

"Didn’t think I had it in me?"

"Frankly, no.  Especially after what you did last night."

"I thought we had called a truce," she said.

"I thought so, too.  Until my mom was making breakfast for you, but you weren’t there.  Imagine our surprise.  More to the point, imagine my mother’s disappointment."

"And, that’s what you came here to tell me?  That breakfast is ready?"

He stuck out his bottom lip.  "I came to tell you’re a selfish brat.  I don’t know why you went sneaking off like that.  But, I figure you probably do that sort of thing all the time.  Then I thought, maybe nobody ever called you on it.  How are you supposed to know better if nobody ever calls you on it?  My mom would never be so rude."

"Fortunately, she has you for that: the ‘manners police’.  You know, you spend a lot of time hiding behind your mother."

Glenn got to her feet, and scowled down at him.  His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving prominence to his basset hound eyes as he looked up at her.  They were soft and kind, and Glenn had the sudden sensation she was drowning in chocolate.  She took a deep breath.

"Why don’t you stand up to me like a man?"

"What is that supposed to mean?  I don’t even know what that means," he said, rising.

"I mean, stop saying this is for your mom, and just have the gonads to speak for your own self."

"That’s what I’m doing."

"Well, speak up.  Loud, and clear so there aren’t any further ‘miscommunications’."

Geoff’s brow puckered.  "I don’t know why you did such a deceitful thing as slinking off in the middle of the night without leaving a note thanking Mom for her hospitality.  My mom—yes, Mom—was hurt and confused.  She just assumed it was somethingshe had done wrong."

"That’s ridiculous."

"I should have trusted my instincts about you.  You probably don’t even have any intention of using the photographs you took.  It was just an excuse to get into the house.  I know that’s crazy.  I know you were there to take pictures, I know that."

"That’s where I went," Glenn said.  "To develop the pictures.  I told you, I got the shots I needed last night.  I told you that."

"But, you didn’t say you were leaving," Geoff said.  "Nor did you have the common decency to leave a note."

"I figured you’d be glad to see me gone."

"Nobody is more surprised to find me here, than me.  I just had to ask why you flew the coop.  Now that I’m here, and I see how you had to get back for personal reasons."

"You don’t know anything more about me, or my personal reasons, than you did last night."

"Sure, I do.  I know about what’s-his-name.  Jack."

"Jacqmel."

"That’s the last thing I expected from you," he said.

"That’s the trouble with making snap judgments.  That’s why photographers take more than one shot.  It’s the only way to get thewhole picture."

"Yeah, yeah, and you can’t tell a book by the cover."  He sat down.

"How did you find me?  I know my card has the address on it, but it doesn’t have the apartment number."

"I found your name on the mailbox," he said.

"I forgot to get my mail last night.  Now where did he put those keys?  It’s too early to play hide and seek."

"There they are, on the end table.  But, you’re not dressed to go out."  His eyes moved up and down her torso, lingering on her legs.  "I’ll fetch the mail for you."

She tugged the blanket around her a little tighter.  "I’ve got to have a shower.  Just put the mail on the coffee table...oh, and you can have a cup of instant coffee if you want to make it.  To go, for the trip back."

Glenn’s close-cropped hair was washed, and toweled dry in minutes.  She pulled on a pair of black Lycra bicycle pants, dropped a large sweatshirt over her hips, and dragged a brush through her hair.  The whole ritual took less than fifteen minutes.  She found Geoff looking through some prints she’d framed, but hadn’t found time to hang.  He squatted beside her worktable, and sifted through them.  She fished her heavy socks out from under the sofa, and put them on.

"See anything you like?  Everything’s for sale."

"I like them all," Geoff said.

"Will that be cash or charge?"

"I don’t want to buy them."

"You like them, just not enough to spend money on them.  Story of my life."

"Of course, if you wanted to make of gift of one of them to me," Geoff said.

"Everybody wants something for free," she said.

"Hey, itis Christmas.  Time for giving gifts."

"Also time for commerce.  How come everybody else can make a buck at Christmas, but me?"

"Because you’re anartiste ?  You’re above that sort of crass commercialism."

"Yeah, that must be it."   She looked through the stack of mail on the table.  "Just what I need.  More bills."

Geoff wandered around the apartment.  "It’s halfway nice here."

"It’s an armpit.  You don’t have to be kind.  It’s a crime-ridden slum, but it’s all I can afford.  If it wasn’t for places like this, I wouldn’t have no place at all.  Hey, I know, I could live in my car like the more fashionable bums.  But, darn it," she snapped her fingers, "I can’t afford one of those either."

"It has possibilities," Geoff said.  "Better than my dorm."

"Oh, yes, it’s quite the little fixer-upper...a real handyman special."

"Now see, this is interesting.  In the middle of these chic second-hand-store furnishings is a fax machine.  It’s out-of-place.  It’s expensive, hi-tech, brand new."

"That was a gift.  My friend, Shane, who was my boss, got it for me so we can keep in touch.  Sometimes I need to send a reproduction, a facsimile, which is after all how the fax machine got its name.  Are you hanging around for some reason?"

"You promised me coffee.  Do you know you have no food in the house?"

"Not even coffee?  Too bad.  Well, better luck next time."

"Tell you what.  I’ll go to the store for you," he said.

"I haven’t gotten to the cash machine.  I’m not sure I have more than a dollar, oh, and Mel took that this morning."

"My treat, okay?  No strings attached.  Oh, maybe one."

"Figures," she said.

"You write a note to my mom, and I’ll make like a hunter-gatherer and bring some grub to your cave."

"You don’t have to bribe me, I’ll write the stupid note."

Geoff leaned toward her.  "I’ve looked through your cupboards, Ole Mother Hubbard.  You havegot to be hungry.  When was the last time you ate?"

She tried to remember.  "Why do you want to be nice to me?  I thought you didn’t like me."

"I thought so, too.  We’re both full of surprises, aren’t we?"

"Will you bring back a quart of milk?  I don’t drink it myself, but Mel likes to have cereal."

Geoff smiled.  "Your eyes may have shutters on them, but your heart is an open door."

"Which, in case you hadn’t noticed, is locked, and chained, and carries a baseball bat."

When Geoff returned, Glenn had the kitchen counter cleared, and was bringing a kettle to a boil.  She took two salmon-colored Melmac cups from the drain board, and made coffee.  She spooned nondairy creamer into hers, then perched on a counter stool, and watched him.  Geoff seemed comfortable in the kitchen.  He was the sort of person who was at ease with himself, and therefore with the world in general.  As he cooked, he chatted about himself.  He was in his third year at the University of Maryland, and had not declared a major.  Actually, he declared a new major every semester.  Nothing seemed to fit.  He wasn’t focused like his brother.  Bobby knew he was going to enlist as soon as he graduated.  But, things weren’t so simple for Geoff.  He remained uncommitted.

"What’s that stuff you’re putting on my plate?" she asked.

"It’s scrapple."

"It smells yucky.  I’m not eating it."

"You’re going to try it."  Geoff slid it off the spatula.  "After I took all this time to fry it up for you."

She wrinkled her nose, sliced off a corner, and put it on her tongue.  "Not bad."

"Now it’s your turn.  Tell me all about Glenn Prentiss."

"I’m not very interesting."

"Doubtful."

She told him how her father left when she was a baby and how her mother did the best she could, but she died during Glenn’s teen years.  To keep her from becoming a ward of the court, her uncle took her.  He was a photojournalist, and traveled a lot.

Geoff said, "So he’s the one who taught you the business?"

"He didn’t like me very much, and wasn’t shy about reminding me of what a drag I was on his social life.  I got the idea that if I learned the trade we’d have something in common.  Trouble was he’d rather have an appendectomy than teach some snot-nosed kid to take pictures.  I guess you could say I learned in spite of him, or to spite him.  A funny thing happened, though.  When I was seventeen we went to France.  He was documenting the journey of World War II veterans who liberated Paris back in the Forties."

"In 1945," Geoff said, and shrugged.  "I was a history major once."

"I found one of the vets in this knoll.  The morning light was filtering through the trees, and there was mist around his feet.  Very ethereal, very spiritual.  I got closer as he knelt down, and folded his knotted hands.  It was like a church, a sacred spot.  His eyes welled up with tears, and he said to me, ‘This is where he died’.  I was so moved, I didn’t even realize I was taking pictures.  I was so caught up in the moment.  This old guy tells me about his buddy, the whole story like it just happened.  Here it’s like half a century later, and he’s raised a family, and is living off some pension, and yet in his heart, his friend had just died.  Then, he says how his buddy will always be frozen in time at the age of 18, and never have kids or grandkids, but also wouldn’t get wrinkles, or the rheumatism.  And he asks me which one of them I felt more sorry for.  I said the first thing that came to mind, standing in that sacred spot, surrounded by sunlight, and memories of long ago.  I told him, ‘It’s good to be alive’.  And, he looked around at the green earth, and blue sky, and says that I’m right, itis good to be alive.  It was an intensely personal moment, and I realized it was in my power to share that with people who would never walk on that green grass, or gaze into the blue heavens over France."

"Were you able to publish the pictures?" Geoff asked.

"I sold them to Life magazine, if you can believe it," Glenn said.

"I think I saw them.  A couple years ago?  Man, your uncle must have been beaming."

"That’s what I thought.  I’ll never forget it.  He told me I hadn’t paid my dues yet, and it would probably be a cold day before I sold anything again."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing," Geoff said.  "He should have been more professional.  Forget the fact that he’s family, whatever happened to professional courtesy?"

"I wasn’t a professional, and didn’t deserve any, the way he saw it."

"That stinks," Geoff said.

"So does scrapple."  She smiled.  "But it tastes good.  Can I have some more?"

His smile was soft and sexy.  "You’re adorable when you sound like Oliver Twist.  You should eat this every morning.  It’d put some meat on those skinny bones of yours.  So, what happened next?"

"Let’s see.  On the weight of my portfolio, and with a reference from the Veterans Administration, I had the luck of being chosen as Shane Singleton’s assistant.  There were much more qualified applicants.  I know he just felt sorry for me."

"Yeah, maybe he noticed your lean and hungry look, like I did.  You have this way of making a man want to feed you, take care of you.  Unintentional, I’m sure, and probably untrue.  You’re a lot better at taking care of yourself than I’ll ever be, but that’s the vibe you give off, whether you mean to or not.  Something in your eyes."

"My eyes again?  I gotta start wearing shades when you’re around."

He smiled again.  It was a very warm and inviting smile.  Glenn wondered if he was aware of the vibe he was giving off.  Yeah, he’d been manipulating her since he’d showed up at her door.  Caught her while she was vulnerable, just waking up with a hangover.  Figured out she was barely scratching out a living, then proceeded to try to draw her in with compliments about her house and her work.  Then, he ran errands for her, like he was her boyfriend, or something.  He wanted something from her, no doubt about that, besides the courtesy note to his mother.  What a moron he was if he expected her to be that gullible.  The question remained, though, what did he want?

"So that’s the guy who bought you the fax machine?  Just friendship, huh?  Or, was there a possible office romance?  Uh-oh, no, I think not?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, right now, you look as if you’d like to split me open from gullet to gizzard with a bottle opener.  I don’t think you’d be that indignant at being confronted with something you actually did."

"You’re on the right track.  We’re very close, but not in that way.  He let me stay with him and his wife until I got my first apartment.  I guess they sort of adopted me."

"You haven’t had an easy time of it, have you?"

"Lots of people have it worse off.  I’ve always had a place to live, and food to eat."  She pierced the last piece of egg, and lifted her fork to her mouth.

"See, I was right.  You do play pitiful until someone comes along, and rescues you."

"I’ll tell you a secret.  It works especially well on men with a hero-complex."

"Guess I’d have to plead guilty to that one," he said.  "In any case, what are you doing for lunch?  I was thinking, since I’m in town I’m going to see some friends, but I’d like to take you to lunch...or dinner.  Let’s see, you have milk and eggs in the fridge, and bread and butter, but we still have to get you some real groceries."

"I can manage."

"I’ll circle back around eleven or twelve, and you can give me your answer then."

"What about your mother’s note?" she asked.

"I’ll get that when I come back.  You can write it while I’m gone."

Glenn walked him to the door.  "Thanks for the food."

"You can’t go around skipping the most important meal of the day.  That’s what makes you so cranky in the morning."

"Are you planning on making a habit of this sort of behavior?"

"Maybe.  Iam pretty good in the kitchen, don’t you think?" he asked.

Glenn had a reckless impulse to ask him if he was any good in the bedroom.  That’s when she realized she was flat-out flirting with him.  No, no, Mr. Eyes-like-chocolate, smile-like-Indian-summer.  He was setting off all of her alarms toward self-preservation.  This had been allowed to go far enough.  She had no choice, but to turn down his date.  But those particular words didn’t exactly spring from her lips before he left.  And as she latched the door behind him, she was disgusted by that fact, and by just how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.

She made another cup of coffee, and took it to the bedroom, where she rummaged through her drawers looking for stationery to write the note to Mrs. Duncan.  When she failed to find any, she sat on the edge of the bed.  Her head was still pounding.  She fell back on the sheets with her legs dangling off the mattress, and stared at the ceiling for two minutes.  At some point, she crept into the center of the bed.  That’s where she found herself when she awoke, curled into the fetal position.  She sprang out of it, and lunged for the telephone.

"Hello," she said. "Hello."

And, just when she decided she’d dreamed the whole thing, a voice came back.

"I have to see you.  Right away."

6

Glenn passed her hand across her eyes.  "Shane?  What’s wrong?"

"It's just, something came across my desk this morning.  You know a lot of the foreign correspondents, don't you?  If I showed you a picture, could you hazard a guess as to who did the job?"

"If it’s not my work, I’m not interested," she joked.

"Not funny, amigo."

"Are you home?"

"The office," he said.

"If I meet you at Union Station, will you buy me a cappuccino?  In an hour?"

There was another pause.  "I think this is something you ought to see."

Glenn re-seated the phone, and looked at the clock.  It was a little after 11:00 AM.

Union Station was the most accessible stop that offered more than a place to get on and off the Metro.  She could take the bus from Columbia Heights to U Street.  She’d take the green line to Gallery Place, then switch to the red line.  Shane’s office was on top of Rhode Island Avenue.  If the buses and the trains were on time, she could make it in half an hour.  If.  But, nothing ran on time all the time, and the length of time waiting seemed to be proportional to the drop in mercury.  The colder the weather, the longer the wait.

Glenn laced up her sneakers, threw on her overcoat, put her keys in the pocket, and grabbed her camera bag.  As the door opened she saw Geoff rounding the corner.

"I’m sorry," she said.  "I have to go."

"Can anyone tag along?" he asked.  "Could you use a ride?  You said you didn’t have a car."

"Going to Union Station, it’s easier to catch the shuttle to Metro Station at U Street.  There’s no place to park there."

"I was thinking Fort Totten.  Once you get on at Fort Totten you don’t have to change lines,"

"Tell me something," she said.  "How cold is it out there?"

"The wind has picked up.  Cuts right through you."  He hugged his arms around himself.

She sighed.  "Where are you parked?"

In a few minutes she was sitting beside Geoff in a vintage dark blue Granada.  He tucked a cassette into the tape deck.

"You know a lot about the train for someone who lives so far from the nearest station," she said.

"I go to school here.  Who are you meeting?" he asked.

"A friend."

"How long do you think you'll be?  You're going to need a ride home."

"Are you planning to come with me?  All the way?"  She shook her head.  "I'll get my own transportation.  I don't want you going out of your way."

"What's it to ya?"

"Nothing, as long as you don't follow me around."

He laughed.  "Yeah, right.  Follow you around."  He slouched at the wheel, steering with his wrist.  "You know where they sell memorabilia?  That's my mom's favorite store.  Bobby and I used to buy old presidential campaign buttons for her.  You know,I like Ike .  Bobby loved the train store."

"Model trains?"

"Absolutely loved them.  My entire family is stuck in the past.  With my dad it's the Civil War."

"And what era of history fascinates you?"

"I'll let you know when it happens," Geoff said.

"You're a futurist?"

"I don't think anything is as interesting as what might happen tomorrow."  He sang along with a tenor for a while.  "You going to take pictures?"

She stroked the camera bag on her lap.  "As soon as you need it, you forget to bring it."

"And who are you when you forget to bring it?  With your camera, you're Glenn Prentiss.  Who are you without it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What does Glenda like to do?"

"For fun?  My work is fun."

"That’s pathetic," Geoff said.

"That I love photographs, and everything about them?  I love the fact that my photographs can have an immediate impact on the viewer’s emotions, the goes beyond definitions or explanation.  There's a picture on my dresser of a little girl running toward a man who is kneeling.  Every time I look at it tears spring to my eyes from some place so deep.  I don't know."

"Typical father fixation," he said.  "Sorry.  I just finished my Psych final."

They rode the rest of the way accompanied by a sad southern voice drawling a domestic tragedy.  At the station, they each bought a rail pass, and waited for the train.  When it braked in front of them they entered a car, and sat at different ends.  She piled her gear in her lap, and gazed at the wall map.  The train jolted to a start.  Glenn became indifferent to the passengers, the scenery, the magnetic doors and their appearances and disappearances.  She was anticipating her meeting with Shane.  He was so peculiar on the phone, not himself at all.  She kept her eyes on the system map, measuring the path they took, counting the stops.  When they left the train Geoff shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Where do you want to meet?"  He matched Glenn’s pace as she walked away from him.  "What about lunch?  In an hour?  I was thinking if we hang out until dark, we could go by the Ellipse, and see the national Christmas tree.  I hear they decorate all the trees around there.  Supposed to be spectacular.  Have you seen it?"

She shook her head.  "The traffic’s a nightmare."

"I don’t care," Geoff said.  "It’s worth it to see the capitol lit up.  Hey, think that’s what they meant by a thousand points of light?  I bet there’s more than a thousand lights on the national tree.  What do you think?"  He kept walking with her.  "In an hour, then?  Beside the ticket machine?"

Glenn stopped, and fussed with her camera strap.  "Yeah, whatever."

She watched until he was gone, then foundThe Perfect Cup .  It was an open area with small, square tables.  Shane sat next to a column of cement and tile.  He pointed to two mugs in front of him.

"Hey, it's still steaming."  She stripped away her coat, and camera.

Shane eyed the room.  "You alone?"

"More or less," she said.

"What's that mean?"

"It's a long story, and I don’t want to bore you with the details.  But, I wasn't followed, and I shook the guy who brought me."

Shane reached inside the breast pocket of his brown corduroy jacket.  He placed a 5X7, black-and-white glossy on the table in front of him, and folded his hands on it.

"I want you to look at this, and give me your best guess as to its origin."  He rotated the 4x5 half a turn, and slid it toward her.

Glenn lifted it part way off the table, then slapped it back down.  "Very funny."  She stopped smiling.  "Why'd you really call me?"

He shoved the picture toward her.  "Tell me what you know about it."

"I wish I'd done it," she said.  "It’s a media sensation.  This is a black-and-white of the Israeli Defense Minister, an American businessman, and a representative of Iraq thought to be in the elitist Bath party.  In the background is a blur that’s been inconclusively identified as a member of the president's staff, implying that he was present at this meeting.  Doesn't really matter.  No sooner was it featured inTime ,Newsweek , andForbes , and as the lead story for every news broadcast on every TV station in the world, then it was discovered to be a hoax."

"And, the photographer?"  Shane asked.

"Anonymous," Glenn said.

"You have a theory.  Everybody has a theory."

"The suggestion that it had to be a darkroom genius is nonsense.  The media concocted that story to divert the blame.  The truth is, anyone who knows anything about developing could have made these subjects appear together on photosensitive paper.  I could have done it; you could have done it.  Shoot, even Lizbeth could have done it.  In fact, when I first saw it, my hunch was that it was an amateur.  Of course, the reproduction was grainy but, now that I see the...original?  Is this it?  The original?  The photographer's name is on the back.  You know who it is, don't you?  No, you couldn't, or you wouldn't be asking me."

"This is an original, and it does have the copyright on the back," Shane said.

"Can I see it?"

"Turn it over."

It was currently the most famous picture in the world, cloaked in intrigue and suspense, and Glenn was about to find the answer to the question all the world was asking.  Who did this darkroom sleight of hand?  There was a little scraping sound as she turned it over.

GLEP.

GLE, the first three letters of the first name, P the first initial of the last name.  Glenn Prentiss.    The name she invented to copyright her material.

"Me?"

"Just as I thought."  Shane swept the picture back into his pocket.  "You don't know anything about it, do you?  I had to be sure."

"This makes no sense," Glenn said.  "Where did you get that?  Why would anyone give me credit for his work?"

"Think about it," Shane said.

"I can't.  My mind is numb.  You don't give away your pride and joy, your livelihood.  Unless it would do more harm than good.  But, that's nuts."

"Stop thinking with your lens for a second," he said.  "Whoever did this went way underground, covered his tracks."

"Sure, because somebody's gonna want to have a real serious conversation with him."

"Right before they make him–or her–disappear," Shane said.

"So, this picture was doctored?  For insurance?  How did you get it?  How many people have seen it?  How many copies are there?"

"The blood is finally getting back to your brain.  I found this on my desk."

"Through the mail?" she asked.

"Hand-delivered.  By someone who wanted me to be the first to know."

"Any idea who?" she asked.

Shane drummed his fingers on the table.  "The name I keep coming up with is Phil Bleetz.  Look how he suddenly sprang up again after all this time.  That can’t be a coincidence."

"No way he could have anything to do with this.  I mean, if he did he'd be blackmailing somebody for sure.  Or, be passing it off as his own."

"Maybe that’s what this is…blackmail."

"He was pretty mad last night.  This is the sort of perverse thing he’d think was funny."

"First things first," Shane said.  "Couldhe have done it?  Does he have the equipment?"

"My copyright stamp?  I guess I could have left one behind.  But look, is Bleetz bright enough to pull this off?  His dirty tricks have always been fairly obvious."

"Whereas, whoever's behind this…" Shane squared his shoulders.  "One way, or another we have to find out."

"Subtlety is not his long suit."  Glenn looked at Shane.  "My brain must have gone numb again.  What did you say?"

He leaned forward.  "Sweetheart, the government is investigating.  Experts are on the trail, a trail that could lead to you.  We may want to take advantage of the time we have before going public."  He patted his breast pocket.  "As soon as your name is raised you're going to be under surveillance.  If you’re not already."

"Wouldn’t they have picked me up if they knew anything?"

"They'd watch first, get a fix on any co-conspirators.  Then, you'd disappear."

She swallowed. "Disappear?"

"Methods are pretty universal in the espionage game," Shane said.

"Espionage?"  Glenn stared into her coffee.  The foam was disintegrating.

"This might have something to do with what you're working on," Shane said.  "Don't waste that innocent look on me.  I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I was there last night.  They've got you over a barrel, because of your connection to some supposed ‘incident’."

"You know too much.  Somebody's going to figure that out."  Her eyes involuntarily flicked around the room.

"Don't think I haven't thought of that.  When I took a desk job I thought it would be the end of going out on a limb.  I have a future to think about."

"Sorry about the limb," Glenn said.

"It's not your fault.  We're just victims of circumstance."

She grinned.  "Like you always say, if you're gonna play with pictures…"

"You're gonna get framed.  I know."

"We'll have to go through DISCO," she said.  "You know, DOD.  You also warned me to never trust anyone who hid behind initials."

"Well, was I wrong?  So, Department of Defense is the one pulling your strings?  They may be up to their ears in this ‘Conspiracy’ picture."

"Not DISCO.  Paper pushers.  All they do is teach businesses with government contracts the proper procedures for handling classified information.  Like running 3 sheets of blank paper through the copier behind everything to make sure nothing accidentally stuck to the Xerox machine, blah, blah."  Glenn plunged her spoon in the middle of her coffee, and stirred, creating a tiny tornado.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"They classified me.  I have this song and dance I have to do to send my photos."

"How secret are you?"

"Not top, just plain secret.  I can't even contact the AFIB directly.  I have to go through DISCO.  I'm going to drop a dime, talk to my contact," she said.

"Save your coins.  Unless you have something to give them, they won't come to the phone."

"Gosh, Shane, you're such a cynic all of a sudden."

"Not so sudden."  He shook his head.  "We've got to work this out ourselves."

"What do you mean ‘we’, paleface?  It's my butt in the sling.  You keep yours in your nice upholstered chair."

"Big talk, little girl.  I'm looking under some rocks.  Go back to your end of the world until I have a chance to figure something out."

She lifted her cup by the handle.  "Then, we have our usual understanding."

"Yes."  He clunked his mug against hers.  "You're going to do whatever the hell you please."

"And, so are you."  She swallowed some warm liquid.  "Going to see Bleetz?"

"I'll give you that honor.  I'll call him, and say we have some work for him."

"He's stupid enough to believe that," Glenn said.

"Arrogant enough, anyway.  You up to it?"  Shane looked past her.  "Hey? You know a guy with a ponytail, about six feet tall?"

"Wearing a leather jacket?"

"He's been circling around trying to look like he's not watching us."

She rolled her eyes.  "I'll kill him.  He swore to me."

"And you believed him?"

"You're right.  That was my first mistake," Glenn said.

"Wait a minute, is that who I think it is?  And, you've already got him wrapped around your finger?"

"Oh, sure.  You see how well he listens to me," she said.

"Maybe he's got a little crush on you," Shane said.

"He thinks I'm up to something."

"Good instincts.  Well, put your mind to it, and you'll win him over."

"Think so?" Glenn asked.

"Sure, right before you break his poor heart."

"Guess that’s my cue.  I'm out of here."

"Where are you going?  Forget I said that.  The less I know, the less I can blab in my sleep.  I'll find you when I need to," Shane said.

"I appreciate your resourcefulness.  It's saved my hide enough times.  Now, if only I knew what to do about the Shadow over there."

"Here's a unique concept.  Why don't you level with him?"

"Yeah, right," she laughed.

"Keep your headlights on."

Glenn strapped her gear around her.  Then, she glanced around.  Geoff was leaning against a pillar, sipping something in Styrofoam.

She groaned.  "Do you believe this guy?"

She rolled her eyes, and strolled toward the exit.  Glenn kept her pace unhurried, and swung her eyes from side to side.  When she got to the ticket machine she whirled around, prepared to surprise Geoff.  He wasn’t behind her.  He'd been so clumsy about tailing her.  Was it possible he’d lost her?  Some people need a trail of breadcrumbs, she thought, and retraced her steps.  When she got toThe Perfect Cup Shane was gone, and she had a pretty good idea of what had happened to both of them.

Union Station was a cavernous structure of concrete, and steel.  Its domes and archways gave it the appearance of a gigantic ribcage, with massive engines throbbing like a heartbeat.  The camera found its way to Glenn’s eye.  Sleek, silver lines filled the wide-angle lens.  She moved closer, noting the perspective of the scene: track stretching away, reaching into the distance.  Not exactly new.  She switched from the camera with slide film in it, to the one with print film.  She dug the long lens from the bottom of the duffel, and screwed it into place.  Her eyes ran along the walkway above the train.  As she centered on the stairs to the left she heard a human whistle, and looked up.

Geoff waved from the platform.  She couldn't hear what he was saying.  He leaned on the rail, and she raised the telephoto lens.  As she brought him into focus, her eye picked up the geometry of the shot, the right angle of wall to ceiling, the rectangular block of the iron railing.  She turned back to the corner, and snapped a few shots, which were marred by intruders on the walkway.  Geoff made a flourish with his arms and stepped back, rear-ending three men who scattered like bowling pins.  One collided with the railing, and for one terrifying moment it looked as if he was going over.  A hand snagged him by his corduroy jacket.  For a second he clung to the railing.  His hand disappeared into his jacket, and returned with a flat rectangle.  A forearm wedged around his throat and his hand kicked forward, releasing the paper from his fingertips.  The other man made a grab for it.

"Shane!"

She hit the stairs running.  Halfway up, she saw the ‘Conspiracy’ photograph tumble end over end, black-and-white, white-and-black, until it sailed to the pavement below.  She watched it land, then looked back up to the platform for help.

"Geoff!"

He was gone.  Everyone was gone.  The camera dangled heavily, dragging her downward.  She let it pull her along over the banister.  Spectators were gathering around.  Glenn got to the bottom of the stairs, scooped up the photograph, and pressed it to her chest.

"Go away.  All of you."

"What's wrong, Hon?" asked an elderly woman.  "Should I call the police?"

Glenn tucked the photo into her waistband.

"Do you need help, dear?" asked another solicitous senior.

"No, just leave me alone."

She gathered her equipment around her, and dashed back up the steps as fast as her legs would carry her.  But, it wasn’t fast enough.

7

The narrow corridor ended abruptly.  Glenn careened to the right, her gear lagging half a second behind, then jolting against her.  A flight of iron steps led down, then the whole place opened into a hive.  It was swarming with Christmas shoppers.  Glenn slowed to a walk, trying to catch a glimpse.  But, it was impossible.  How was she to distinguish the men she was looking for among the merry multitudes?  Geoff was young, with long hair, and a leather jacket.  Shane had spotted him easily enough atThe Perfect Cup .  If she could remember what the rest of them were wearing, maybe that would narrow her search.  Suits.  No, Shane was wearing, what?

Glenn ran a hand across her brow.  Sports jacket.  Brown.  Dark brown, corduroy.  What good was that?  Where were they heading?  That's what she had to figure out.  Get him out of public.  An exit?  To what?  Train?  Metro?  No, a parking lot.  You don't kidnap someone without a getaway car.  Kidnap?  Was that what was going on?  She searched for some sign: an arrow on the wall, paw prints on the pavement like at the National Zoo.  Anything to point the way.  This way to the Red Line.  Time was slipping through her fingers.  Wait a minute.  This way to Massachusetts Avenue and First Street, NE.  The cold outside hit her like a bucket of water, peeling her hair back, and making her eyes swim. She made it to the curb, and blinked at traffic.  A dark figure sprang at her, and her vision cleared.

"Geoff!  Where's Shane?  Did you see him?"

"Who's Shane?"

Her fist curled around Geoff’s lapel.  "Where did they go?"

Geoff’s hand closed over hers, and tugged her back through the Station.  She managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  They slid into the turnstile and fished for their fare cards.  Geoff found his in his hip pocket, fed it through the slot, and spun on his heel.  "Where are we going?"

She pulled her fare card from her coat pocket.  "You know where they went?"

"No.  Yes.  I mean, ow."  He buried his hand in his hair, and closed his eyes.  "My head hurts.  I've got to sit down."

"Get on the train.  Come on."  Glenn hustled Geoff to a seat, and sat next to him.

His face flushed, and his eyes winced shut.  "My head.  I cracked my head open."

Her fingers worked through Geoff’s hair.  "Ooh.  Sticky…yep, blood."

"Ow!  Get out of my hair!"

"You first."

"What?"  He scowled.  "Oh, I get it."

"Well, you're practically smiling," she said.  "You can't be hurt all that bad."

"Oh, yes, I can.  I'm just terribly brave.  Did you see me chase those guys?  As soon as you hollered, I took off after them."

She gently tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, and sighed.  "But, you didn't catch them."

"Yes, I did," he said.  "For a second.  Then, this guy with shoulders out to there hit me with a body block, and I lost my balance, and landed on my asphalt."

"You should get an X-ray, make sure you don't have a concussion."

"I need some ice."   Geoff held his head.  "Level with me.  What's going on?"

"All I know is Shane asked me to meet him for a cup of coffee," she said.

"There must be more to it than that."

"No, he wanted my opinion on a photograph, and then I split."

Geoff pointed at her midsection.  "Is that the one?"

"What?"  She flattened the bulge against her rib cage, and tucked it further down into her pants.

"Don't put me through this.  I'm not up to it," Geoff said.

"I don't know who those guys are.  And, neither does Shane."

"Maybe they wanted to see the picture, too."

"What do you keep babbling about?"

"The picture your friend threw down the stairs, and you picked up.  Who were those men, and what do they want with him?  Are they coming after us next?"

Glenn stared at him.  Then, her gaze retreated out the window to the flashes of light and color.

"I wish I knew."   She leaned back.  "I wish to God I knew."

As they got beyond the alphabet soup of city streets, the train kept getting emptier until only one other passenger rode with them.  At their stop, they dragged themselves from the cubicle, and stood on the platform for a minute.  Then, they wandered toward his car, and got inside.  Geoff started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"You know," he said.  "You’d feel better if you talked about it."

"I don't want to talk about it.  I can't stand to even think about it."

Geoff reached over, and covered her hand.  "You're not alone."   His voice was quiet.  "I'm here."  Then, his hand was gone.  "We should report this to someone."

"What would we tell them?"

"That we saw a man kidnapped."

"Was it a kidnapping?" she asked.

"He didn't go willingly."

She gave it some thought.  "I don’t know about you, but those suits looked like Feds to me."

"Are you telling me Shane was arrested?  And, what about you?  Are you an outlaw, too?"

"You know, in the news business you investigate all sorts of conspiracies and cover-ups, and sometimes in real life the bad guys turn out to be the good guys."

"I still don’t know what this has to do with you.  What were you doing with Shane?"

"Listening.  That's what friends do.  They listen to each other."

"Okay," Geoff said.  "Let's you, and me try this friend thing.  Let's come at this from a different angle.  It sometimes helps to imagine a reciprocal situation."

She stared at him. "Algebra final?"

"No, still Psychology.  Let's say the tables were reversed.  If you were snatched."

"What would Shane do?" Glenn asked.  "Hm.  He'd contact someone.  I don't know who.  He has a million contacts."

"Is there someone who would know his contacts?" Geoff asked.

"Lizbeth.  His wife."

"You better call her."

Glenn shook her head.  "Whoa, buddy, not me."

"Don't tell me you're having a twinge of conscience.  It's interesting how you divide people into professional and personal groups," Geoff said.

"Its called ‘professional detachment’.  Not that you'd know anything about working for a living.  I mean at a real job, not playing at school."

"I'd have to be schizophrenic to do what you do," he said.

"You'd have to be talented."

"I notice you didn't say compassionate."

"That goes without saying.  I suppose I should be more like you?"

"Couldn't hurt," he said, and laughed.  "I prefer you all prickly like this, instead of depressed."

"I'm schizophrenic, I can be both at the same time.  Hey, that’s a Frederick exit.  Where are we?"

"I’m taking you to my place," he said.  "I’m not taking a chance on running into Shoulders again.  I think you should stay with me until we figure out what to do.  My parents left for Jamaica this morning so you’ll have all the privacy you need."

"So, now you’re kidnapping me?  Not bloody likely.  I have to go home.  All my stuff is there.  I need the security of home base."

"I don’t think it’s safe," Geoff said.

"It’s the only place Shane knows where to contact me."  She looked at Geoff.  "Please.  I can’t leave town...not yet."

"Let’s stop up here.  There’s a Mexican restaurant.  We can eat, and talk about it."

"I’m not going to change my mind," she said.

As they entered Casa Rico, Glenn saw a pay phone, and made up her mind to call Lizbeth.  Even if she couldn’t screw up the courage to tell her what happened, she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d tried.  It was noisy with the clatter of utensils, and she pressed the receiver to one ear and stuck her finger in the other.  Lizbeth answered.

"Hello," Glenn said.  "Is Shane there?"

Lizbeth would say Shane isn't home yet, that would give Glenn an opening.

"One moment, please."

What did that mean?  Maybe Lizbeth went to pick up an extension.  She knew Glenn’s voice, but there wasn't any note of recognition.

"Hello?"

It took Glenn a full five seconds to recover.  "Shane?  Is that you?"

Then, the line went dead.

Sadie Cozzoli read the report quickly.  "I don’t like this."

"What do you suppose he’s up to?" asked Pip.

"It isn’t good, you can bet on that."  She tapped her chin with her index finger.  "Singleton’s office?  What kind of mischief is that?  Bleetz has no business there."

"He had an envelope with him.  It was gone when he came out."

"Our agents tailed Singleton to Union Station where he met Prentiss," Sadie said.

"And, as far as anyone can tell, he passed the envelope to her."

"We don’t know what it was exactly, but it’s a photograph."  Sadie looked at Pip.  "I didn’t share this information with the chief yet, so how did those agents know where to intercept him?"

"Same way we did?"

"A separate phone tap?  Looks like we’re going to be shadowed every step of the way.  Can’t afford any false moves.  So, Prentiss wound up with the photo."  Sadie drew a deep breath.  "It’s probably one of the composites he made.  It can’t cause too much damage by itself."

"As long as she doesn’t interact with Bleetz any more," Pip said.  "I knew it was a mistake to send him to pick her up."

"What choice did we have?" Sadie asked.  "It’s about time he was reminded of who’s in charge.  We know the AFIB had a chat with Singleton some time ago, and we know that Prentiss now has a photograph from Bleetz.  Neither of these things should cause concern.  We’ll mop up this last mess of Bleetz’s, then terminate his employment."

Pip looked at her.  "Are you going to requisition that?"

"I already did.  Last night.  I realized you were right about him being a loose cannon so I placed a request for termination.  Here it is."  She handed him a thin piece of fax paper.

"Go ahead, make the call," Pip said.  "I’ll tidy up."

As he turned on the shredder Sadie dialed the phone, and spoke a few words.  Easier than ordering pizza.  They separated some of the pages in the Bleetz file, and gathered around the crosscut shredder.

"You’re in command, you be the destroyer," Pip said, handing her the fax,  "I’ll be the witness."

Sadie fed the pages through the machine, interspersed with pages from a manual on installing System 3.1 software.  The last thing to go was a photograph of Phil Bleetz.  Sadie took a moment to gaze at it.

"If only he’d used his powers for good, instead of evil," she said.

Pip smiled, and shook his head.  Then, the image, and likeness of Philip Bleetz became confetti.

8

The waitress approached Glenn as she slid into the booth.  "One margarita.  El grande, with salt."

"It's Fiesta Week," the waitress said.  "Two drinks for the price of one."

Geoff said, "Ice tea for me."

Glenn said, "We’ll still need two."

Geoff leaned forward.  "That didn't take long."

"Wait’ll I tell you what happened.  You’ll have second thoughts about that drink."  Glenn folded her hands on the table, and thought about how to put her fears into words.  "Lizbeth answered the phone.  I asked if Shane was there.  And, she told me to wait."

"He was there?" Geoff asked.

"Not so fast."

"Your drinks," announced the waitress.

Geoff told her, "We’ll have two taco salads."

Glenn nodded, and waited for her to leave.  "A couple seconds later someone says, ‘Hello’."

"But, it wasn't Shane?"

"Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry."   He dipped a wedge-shaped corn chip in salsa.  "Get to the point."

"So, I say, ‘Shane, is that you’?  Then, the line went dead."

Glenn fit the rim of the first glass under her top lip.  The liquid tasted sweet, and she swallowed another mouthful.

Geoff scowled as he crunched into another corn chip.  "Somebody got to his wife.  That must be it."

"You don't understand."   She dabbed the salt off her lip with her tongue.  "I may be way crazy, but I could swear it was Shane."

Geoff drew closer, and lowered his voice.  "What do you think happened?"

Glenn thought about it for a long time, as she twirled wet circles into the paper place mat with the bottom of the margarita glass.  Every way she approached it, only one thing made sense.

"I think he was protecting me."

"From what?  From who?"

The food arrived, and they leaned back to make space on the table.  "I wish I could have heard more.  But, when Shane heard my voice, he hung up."

"What makes you think he hung up?"

"The sound," Glenn said.  "If the line goes dead it's sudden, likepop !  When someone hangs up, there's usually a sound of the receiver closing down on the cradle before it cuts off."

"What if someone took the phone from him, and hung it up?"

Glenn stirred her drink with the plastic swizzle stick.  "I don’t think they would do that.  They’d want to listen."  She took the straw out, and took another sip.  "I think his phone is bugged."

"Wow.  Well, that might explain how they knew about your meeting.  I guess they were Feds.  How do you suppose he got away from them?" Geoff asked.

"Maybe whoever took him for a ride took him home.  Did you see which way the car went after you picked yourself up off the asphalt?" Glenn asked.

"North."

"Bethesda is north.  Of course, from there, most of Maryland is north.  They’d take Massachusetts Avenue if they were taking him to the District."

"They must have taken him straight home, if that was him.  So, what's he protecting you from?"

"From being taken for a ride," Glenn said.

"There’s worse ways to get around town than a chauffeur driven limousine."

"Was it a limo?" she asked.  "You didn’t tell me that."

"Well, I’m telling you now.  It was black, and had smoked windows.  I can’t remember any more than that.  Do you think it’s important?"

She shrugged, and attacked the second drink.  "I’ll think about it over another one of these."

"Better not.  You've been running around on little more than adrenaline today."

"I had breakfast, you saw to that.  And, coffee," she said.

"Oh, great, you’ll be a wide-awake drunk.  Look, if my head doesn't start feeling better you may have to drive me home."

Glenn frowned at him.  Who asked him to get involved with this?  Who asked him to take on that thyroid case?  Who asked him to take a curb for her?

"Take an aspirin," she said.

"I don't have an aspirin.  Do you?"

"The only drugs I carry are the illegal variety."

"That's not funny."

"Oh, lighten up.  I didn't bring my purse.  They probably sell those little tins at the register.  I’ll go check."

She wandered into the Fiesta Room.  A bartender asked what she'd like, and she told him.

"With or without salt?" he asked.

"With," she said.  "Look, you keep pain killers under the bar.  My friend has a headache.  Could I get an aspirin from you?"

She sat at the bar, and chugged down the cocktail.  A reflection in the mirror asked her what she was doing.  She turned around.

"Hi.  I'm waiting for your aspirin."

"I thought you weren't going to drink, in case you had to drive," Geoff said.

"But, I'm getting you a pain killer.  See?"

"How many of those have you had?"

She held up two fingers, noticed the ‘V’, and said, "Peace."

"You had two before you even left the table."  He shook his head.  "You don't have a very high tolerance for alcohol, do you?"

"Oh, it's just the first two that make me silly.  Then, I become sober as a judge.  That's why I had to have a third.  I’ve got a lot to figure out.  It's a very strange phenom-enom-ena.  Bartender, meet my friend.  Friend, this is my bartender.  He has aspirin."

Geoff picked the tablets up from the bar.  "Appreciate it.  Have the waitress to put it on our bill.  We're going back to the table."

"Oh, the aspirin.  Did you get the aspirin?"

"Sh.  Don't talk so loud."

"Am I talking loud?  Oh, my God."  Glenn looked at him.  "I've gone deaf."  She doubled over with laughter.  "And my legs are numb.  I can't feel my feet."  She sat down, then, after he was seated, got up, and sat next to him.  "Shove over."

"I'll let you sit here, as long as you eat something," Geoff said.

"Gimme some of yours."

He sighed.  "If I trade plates with you will you eat?"

"Don’t trade plates.  Feed me."

"I amnot going to do that."

Glenn got up, and re-seated herself across from him.  She speared a mixture of refried bean, cheddar cheese shreds, and sour cream with a corn chip.  Jalapeño peppers spilled across everything.  She flicked them into a corner of her plate.

She nibbled some food from the tip of her thumb, and picked up her water glass.  "You know what would taste good with this?  Corona, with lime."

"You drink a lot of beer?" Geoff asked.

"No more than anyone else.  I'll split one with you."

"Pass," he said.  "You know what I will split with you?"

"The check?"

"Ice cream," he said.  "Come on.  It's not like you have to count calories, or watch your weight, or anything."

"That almost sounded like a compliment," Glenn said.

"It almost was."

She swallowed a mouthful of ice water, then waved off an eager busboy that came rushing at her with a red Mayan-looking pitcher.  "Do you eat a lot of ice cream?"

"No more than anyone else."

"Sweets for the sweet.  I'll bet you even like your women sweet."

She put a forkful of taco meat in her mouth and chewed slowly as she studied Geoff across the table.  He was awfully cute.  She could admit it to herself when she felt like this, all warm and cozy.  Her defenses were crumbling like the taco shell on his plate.  It might as well be Glenn being poked by his fork, and pinched between his thumb and forefinger.  The last time she felt so unguarded around the supper table it was with Shane and Lizbeth.  She’d never trusted Phil Bleetz like this, not in all the time she’d known him.  She didn’t know what it was about Geoff that got to her.  Maybe it was his complete lack of pretence.  He wouldn’t know how to be artificial or phony, even if he tried.  It just wasn’t in him.  She put down her fork.

"How's your head?"

"Better."  He kept focused on his plate.

"How about your vision?  Is it blurry?  Look here.  How many of me do you see?  No more than one?"

"Good Lord."  He raised his eyes.  "I couldn't handle two of you."

"You can't handle even one.  So, you're not confused or disoriented?"

"Constantly."

She grinned, and resumed eating.  "I wish I knew what to do about Shane."

"Something will come to you after you've slept on it."

"Sleep?  When I get wired like this, my mind runs like a wind-up toy.  I ought to go home."

"To your house?  I still think that’s an extremely bad idea," Geoff said.

"Admit it, you'll be glad to get rid of me."

"We still don't know who those men are, or what they want with Shane.  I think it’d be best if they don’t find you for a while."

She squinted at him.  "Were you listening to us?  Youwere spying on Shane and me, don't say you weren't.  You followed me, and spied on us.  Admit it."

He pursed his lips.  "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

"Tell you what?" she asked.

"Your truth.  I'll trade a truth for a truth."

"I already know your truth.  I just hoped you’d be man enough to admit it."

"You're man enough for both of us," Geoff said.

"Thanks for reminding me how obnoxious you can be.  For a second, I almost forgot."

She leaned back in the booth, and stared up at the sombrero lamp hanging over the table.  Her fingers twisted the red cloth napkin in her fingers into a knot as she thought about where she was, and how she’d arrived here.  Everything wasnot under control, no matter how many times she lied to herself about it.  Things had been out of her control for a very long time.  Maybe forever.  And now, thanks to her, Shane and Lizbeth were being pulled farther into the quicksand.  Not to mention this poor sap sitting across from her pretending they were on a date.  Delusional.  That’s what he was.  Almost as delusional as her.  Maybe they were the perfect couple, after all.

Glenn sat up, and threw her napkin on her plate.  Geoff looked up at her.  She stuck her tongue out at him.  He winked, and gave her the finger.  Once she started laughing, she couldn’t stop.  Neither of them could.  They laughed until their lungs burned, and their eyes swam.  Then, Geoff waved his napkin in surrender, and agreed to split a beer with her.  Not to be outdone, Glenn had no choice, but to order dessert.  Within the hour they were back on the road.  Leaves scurried in front of the car, hopping across the highway like spit on a hot griddle.  Glenn hugged her arms to her chest, and looked at Geoff, who was staring into the rearview mirror.

"I was thinking," he said.  "About Bobby.  It seems crazy, but I wonder if this is connected to him."

"You’re right.  That's pretty crazy," Glenn said.

"It's just that you came to us because of Bobby, and then your friend wanted to see you about a picture, and then these guys came out of nowhere, and I can't help wondering if it could be connected to Bobby's death."

"No," she said.  "Shane and I had other business.  It had nothing to do with you."

Geoff checked the side-view mirror.  "Still, I think I'll take back roads getting to your house."  He turned onto a narrow road and pulled into the gravel lot of a thrift store.  "I want to try something.  I need you to call Shane one more time."

"Not likely,"

"Humor me, all right?  What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Geoff climbed out of the car, and Glenn followed him to a pay phone at the back of the Goodwill store.  Usually there were street people on this block, but it was so cold they had all taken shelter elsewhere.  Nothing marked their arrival, except the silent yellow receptacles for donations, historical grimy cobblestones, and sooty brick walls.  She plunged her hands in her pockets, and shivered.

Geoff said, "At least this will tell us if the line is dead."

Glenn lifted the receiver and cradled it under her ear, dropped change into the slot, and punched the numbers on the keypad.

"It's ringing," she said, through stiff lips.

"Great."  Geoff’s breath created a balloon near his face like a cartoon.  He took the receiver and pressed it to his ear.  "May I speak to Shane?"  He put his hand over the mouthpiece.  "Last name?"

"Singleton."

"Mr. Shane Singleton."

"Is it Lizbeth?" Glenn asked.

He nodded.  "No, he doesn't know me."   He chewed on his lip.  "Tell him I have something.  A photograph."  Geoff offered Glenn half the ear-piece.

Lizbeth asked, "A photograph?"

"I was in the train station, and I saw him drop it."

"Hold on one moment."

Geoff covered the receiver.  "She has the cutest little lisp."

"Yeah, she’s Spanish," Glenn said.  "What are you going to say?"

"Mr. Singleton?"  Geoff’s eyes sought Glenn’s.

"My wife says you have something that belongs to me?"

"If you're Shane Singleton," Geoff said.  Glenn nodded.  "I was in Union Station, and there was a girl who knew you."

"A girl?"

Geoff paused.  "Prettiest little blond you ever did see."  He grinned at her.

"I’m sure I don’t know her."

"Well, I didn't get her name, but she said the photo was yours.  I'm willing to see that you get it back... if the price is right."

"That sounds like extortion," Shane said.

"Supply and demand, the lubricant of capitalism.  Of course, I could toss it in the nearest trash can."

"No, don't do that."

"God bless America."

"And, the girl?  Is she all right?"

Geoff looked at her.  "She was plenty mad when I got a hold of the picture.  She’s a regular little spitfire, ain’t she?  You know what?  I'm getting bored.  I'll be in touch."  He hung up.  Then, he snatched her into his arms.  "I think," he said, "I just dealt myself in on this poker hand."

"That was idiotic.  You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into."

"I think it was a pretty good bluff."  He laughed.  "The way I figure it, you're going to have to confide in me now whether you want to or not."

"But, you don't have the picture.  You have nothing to back up your bluff."

"They don't know that.  All they know is there’s a new player.  It should confuse things, which might get Shane off the hook while I look after you."  Geoff tightened his grip on her.  "I am going to get you out of this mess."

"You have an unbelievably rich fantasy life," she said.

"You don't know the half of it.  You stir something in me, wild thing.  Something altogether primitive.  Before, you showed up at my front door I felt dead inside.  I don't know how long this roller coaster ride is going to last.  All I know is I plan to enjoy it as long as I can.  And the crazy thing is, the same thing happened to you, the first time you looked at me."

"Like I said, you have a rich fantasy life."

"I have lots of fantasies about us, and all of them end up with me making love to you."

Glenn stared at him.  "Here?"

He escorted her to the car.  "What's wrong with you, woman?  Ain't you got no class?  I said, we'll end up that way."   She reached for the door handle, but he put his hand over hers, surrounding her petite fist with his powerful hand.  "There is one thing I want you to think about."

He turned her around, and took her face in those hands that were surprisingly warm.  His body urged her against the car, as his mouth found hers.  She didn’t pull away.  As his large frame engulfed her, he slid his hand under her sweater.  It traveled across her shoulder blades, and flattened across her back.  The tip of his tongue teased her top lip.  Then, his other hand was on the taut smooth skin of her stomach, on the waistband of her pants.  And, then she knew what he was after.

"Got it!"

He waved the photograph triumphantly over her head.

"You said I could trust you."  She pushed him away, and clamped her arms tightly across her chest.

Geoff tossed the photo to the pavement behind him.  "I’m not the one who needs a lesson in trust.  Now, that we don’t have that between us, I can show you what I really want."   He wrapped both arms around her, and held her snuggly against his broad chest.  He nosed her ear, and kissed her tenderly on the neck.  "Youcan trust me."

He kissed her softly on the nose, then released her.  Glenn watched him retrieve the picture from the ground, and hand it to her.  She was still fuming.

"It looks like a small thing, doesn’t it," he said.  "But, it might as well beWar and Peace .  No more secrets.  Okay?  I don’t want anything separating us, but our clothes.  And, eventually, we’ll shed those, too, and then there won’t be anything between us but skin, and by that time I’ll think of a way to do away with that.  I’m going to get inside that fortress you call a heart, you just wait and see."

"I’ll wait," she said, and put her fingertips on the photograph.

"That’s the trouble with booze, you know.  It slows the reflexes."  He released the picture.  "As long as you keep drinking, men are going to keep taking advantage of you."

"As long as you keep treating women like victims, you’re going to miss out on the opportunity."  She curled up her fist, and punched him in the stomach.  "You had me, right in the palm of your hand.  But, what did you do?  Nothing."

"And that upsets you?  Not that I didn’t take the photograph, but that I didn’t take you.  It’s not too late, you know.  I have the rest of the day, and we’re less than a mile from where you live."

"Yeah, yeah, you’re all talk."

"Are you daring me?" he asked.  "You are.  This is your strange, fascinating way of seducing a man?  Youdare him to take advantage of you?  That is so high-school."

"And, therefore, just the sort of thing that would turn you on."

"Who am I to argue with logic like that?  Let’s get you home."

Glenn got in the car, and he closed the door, then came around, and got in the driver’s side.

He shook his head.  "You know?  You actually believe you have me right where you want me.  You believe all us men think with our zippers.  Just a hint that there might be sex, and we become zombies.  I think I’m insulted."

"Just drive the car."

"Yes, Master," he said. "Whatever, you say."

9

Glenn entered her apartment, and looked around.  "It feels like somebody's been here."

"Nobody's here," Geoff said, and closed the door behind them.

"Not so fast.  Let’s check the other rooms, okay?"

"My Psych professor would call that ‘paranoia’."

"Yeah, well even paranoids have real enemies."

Glenn took off the camera, and slipped out of her coat.  She checked the bathroom, as Geoff searched the bedroom.

"All clear," he said.

"I guess.  Just can’t shake this feeling."  She opened her portfolio, and shuffled through the pictures.  "I didn't put these there."

"Sure you did.  I saw them this morning."

"I had these underneath.  On the bottom."

"You weren't exactly alert this morning.  You can't be sure," he said.

"They were freshly done, you know.  So, I put them under the stack.  To flatten them.  It’s a reflex with me, like breathing."  She handed the photographs to him.

"I don't get it.  These are the pictures of my parents," he said.  "Why would anyone care about these?"  He put the pictures down.

Glenn shook her head.  "I have to reach Shane.  There must be a way."  She paced across the floor.  "Shoot, why didn't I think of this sooner?  The fax.  It has to be something he'll recognize, but doesn't give me away."  She drummed on a legal pad with a pen.  "Do you have any ideas?"

"A picture?" Geoff said.  "Thepicture."

"But, first I have to make contact."  She wrote in block letters ‘GLEP’.  "What was that you called me when you were on the phone with him?"

"I said you were a spitfire."

"That’ll let him know there’s a connection between us."

Glenn wrote ‘the spitfire’ and fed it through the machine, followed by the 4X5 photo of‘The Conspiracy’ .  The fax beeped announcing an incoming message.  She crossed her fingers as she waited.  ‘Just the fax, ma'am’.  It was signed with a double S, one spooned around the other.

"It's him," Glenn said.  "That's his signature."

Relief flooded through her.  All that kept going through her mind was,He’s safe, thank God .  Another message came through.  She laughed.

‘Halfway around world.  Do NOT pass Go, do NOT collect $.  Sheep is Top Hat.  Take a ride on the Short Line.  SS’.

"What in the world?" Geoff asked.

"Brilliant," she said, and scribbled a response.  ‘I'll be sports car, you be shoe.’

Geoff read over her shoulder before she fed it through.  "What's going on?"

He kept his eyes on the machine.  When it signaled, he read the one-word response out loud, "Checkmate."

"Ha, we won," she said.

"That is not chess." Geoff said.

"It’s Monopoly," she said.

"Yeah,do not pass go .  But, what does it mean?"

"The board is the world, and half way around is, what?"

"Jail.  Go directly to jail?"

"He's almost there, like under house arrest.  Like we figured.  I'm not to pass Go—that's ‘home’ on the board.  Don’t collect money.  The place you collect money—"

"At your job?  You get money where you work."

"Right.  Don't go home, or to work."

"His home, or your home?" Geoff asked.

"Definitely his.  Anyway, I'm not going there.  I’m going to see Bleetz—the sheep."

"Ride the Short Line to the Top Hat?  Why Monopoly?"

"Because we played Monopoly while we were waiting for a story to break.  The top hat was the ‘alleged suspect’.  Shane was the sports car.  I always had to be the shoe, doing the legwork.  It sounds goofy, but it helped us strategize having things laid out, three dimensional, where you can see them."

"What about the train?" Geoff asked.

"I’m to meet him there," Glenn said.  "When I find out something."  Her eyes slid toward Geoff.  "Only Shane and I know where the railroads are.  I have to investigate Bleetz first."

"The sheep?  Because you're the sports car?" Geoff said.

"And, good old Shane has to be the shoe this time.  I'd be enjoying this if I didn't have to see my old buddy Phil.  I’m not looking forward to that."

"Can you use a ride?" Geoff asked.

"I wouldn't mind having you along.  I might need you," she said.

"For protection?  This Sheep is some dangerous character, huh?"

She shrugged.  "You corner a rat, you gotta figure he's gonna bite."

"A rat?  A sheep?  Where're we going, Old MacDonald's farm?"

It was a run down section of Prince George's County where sex and narcotics were sold on every other street corner.  Glenn turned her camera on several groups.

"Five'll get you ten they’ve been through the revolving door of justice more than once."

"Better not let anybody catch you doing that," Geoff said.

She lowered her lens.  "Yeah, we got bigger fish to fry.  Hang a right.  There's a back lot.  Phil has a studio downstairs.  He lives upstairs."

They pulled up near the building.  A large man in a topcoat turned his collar up against the cold, and held it there between his shoulders and ears.  He crossed the parking lot, and got into the passenger seat of a dark sedan.

"Hey," Geoff said.  "Maybe that was him."

"Hardly."

"How can you be so sure?  Didn’t even get a good look at his face."

"I’d know him anywhere.  We were close once.  Hey, we’d better park over there.  I don't want to spook him."

Geoff backed into a spot on the opposite side of the building.  "Now what do we do?"

"Wait," Glenn said.  "You still don't get it, do you?  Look, I have no choice but to see Bleetz.  Believe me, if I did, I wouldn't be here."

"You said you were close?"

"Yeah, too close.  You know what?  There ought to be a vaccine girls are given at birth to protect us against guys like him.  He's a great cure for innocence."

"Go on," Geoff said.

She sat back, and drew her knees up under her coat.  "How can I explain this so it makes any sense to you?  Can you imagine going to the World Series and your favorite ball player invites you to hang around and shag flies with him."

"Like if Cal Ripken had me come down to Camden Yard and share the same infield as him?  Okay, I’m there.  But, if he makes a pass at me, I’m gone."

"So, it’s a little different between the sexes.  But, you get my drift?"

"Unfortunately, you’re coming through loud and clear."

"I was in awe of Phil.  He was a great photographer once.  He was also very sexy, and aloof.  To be in the same room with him was incredible.  And yet, in spite of his fame, from the moment we met, we had this connection.  It was like a powerful drug.  He has this way of looking at you, like you’re the only thing in the universe.  It goes right to your head.  And, then, wow, he said he wanted to see my work.  I was in heaven.  I'd like to claim he seduced me, but I knew what I was doing.  Of course, I was only 19 and he was 30, so in a way I guess I was a victim of my youth."

"Thirty?  And you were a teenager?  Who does he think he is, Hugh Hefner?  Dirty old man."

"It didn't feel dirty.  I fell for him, hard.  We spent the first night we met together, like he was some rock star or something.  I was sure it was a one-night stand, but I didn’t care.  He was full of surprises, though.  Instead, of sending me on my way he asked me to move in with him.  Just that fast.  What was I supposed to say to that?  Oh, my, it was that kind of passion that makes you feel like the rest of your life has been a dream."  She cleared her throat.  "But, I was in for a rude awakening.  We were inseparable.  Working together or making love: it was all the same, a colorful blur of images.  I found the combination intoxicating."

"Is it me, or is it getting warm in here?"

She looked at him as he cranked the car window down.  "Where was I?"

"Hot sex," he said.

"It was all hormones, of course.  But, being inexperienced, I mistook it for true love.  He became my whole world."

"Get to the dumpsite.  Who dumped who?"

"Easy, there, big fella.  This is really getting to you, isn’t it?"  She smiled.  "Okay, I’ll cut to the chase.  Technically, I dumped him, but he broke faith first.  We were doing boudoir portraits between assignments.  I'm used to grit work, but this was artistic.  I'd set up the shoot, hold the girls’ hands, housewives mostly.  We'd pick out lingerie, talk about poses.  I was in such a blissful state of pure joy, I really was insufferable in those days.  A big old foolish, sugary sweet blob of optimism.  Not myself, at all.  Then, one day, when I was cleaning up around the studio, I ran across some videos.  I popped one in to see if it was one we could tape over it."

"I see where you're going.  It was porn."

"Home-grown filth, filmed in our own bedroom," she said.

"Nice guy.  He filmed you two in bed?  I’d pay real money to rent that one."

"That was my first thought.  Until I saw a strange woman in my bed.  I was so angry.  Then, I was relieved.  As I watched, Phil started getting rough with her, pushing her around.  She wanted to leave, but the more she fought, the more excited he got.  He used a necktie to fasten her wrists to the bedpost.  There’s no nice way to put this.  That terrified woman was raped by my boyfriend."

"My God," Geoff whispered.

"I don't know how long I sat there.  My first instinct was to erase it, to make it go away.  Then, I realized it was forensic evidence.  I stumbled around the studio, searching for other tapes, hoping it was an aberration, you know, an isolated incident.  But, there was a collection of nude photos taken by a hidden camera in the dressing room.  It was so sordid.  I had to get out of there, but I wasn’t ready for a confrontation.  I left a note saying I was going on assignment.  And then, I just never went back to him.  That part always bothered me, that I ran away."

"I’d have beat him like a bongo drum."

"That was one option.  But, I went another way.  After I calmed down, I knew what I had to do.  One day, while he was away, I let myself back in to get my stuff, and while I was there grabbed all the photos and videos I could find.  I returned them to their owners, telling them that they could destroy them or use it to prosecute the s.o.b."

"So?  Did he get arrested?"

"It’s interesting.  Shortly after that, Phil was mugged in his studio.  Whoever it was, beat the crap out of him, then piled his stuff in the middle of the room, and torched the place.  The noxious fumes almost did him in."

"He could have been killed."

"Oh, well.  Better luck next time."

"How’d you get taken in by someone like that?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?  I was the luckiest girl in the world.  He was a legend.  I think that's really what I fell in love with."  She felt the truth of it settle around her like a blanket.

"A key," Geoff said.  "You used to live here.  Do you have a key?"

"Isn’t that breaking and entering?" she asked.

"If you have a key it would be opening and entering.  Would you at least check?"

"I used to keep it in my camera bag."  She rifled through the zippered pockets of her bag, and found a single door key.  "Well, what do you know?"

They got out of the car, and crossed the parking lot.

"That's odd," Glenn said.  "From this angle that looks like his car over in the corner, behind that bush."

"Maybe it is."

"He always parks here by the door."  She looked up at the second story window.  "Lights aren’t on.  I suppose he could be in the darkroom."

"Don't worry.  I won't let anything happen to you.  Let me go first."

"No.  If he sees you he’ll be hostile," Glenn said.

Geoff laughed.  "What's he going to do when he sees you, greet you with open arms?"

"That's exactly what he'll do," she said.  "He can’t help himself.  He's got to cop a cheap feel first."  She shrugged.  "All right, don't believe me."

Glenn rang the doorbell, and then the brass buzzer to the darkroom.  There was no response to either.  The key still worked.  She crept through the studio calling his name softly to the steady hum of electricity.

"I'll check the darkroom," she said.

"I'll look over this way."

"That’s his film library."

The darkroom was empty.  Glenn made her way back across the studio, growing accustomed to the darkness.

"What a mess," Geoff said.  "This guy's a slob."

"What do you mean?  His workspace is very organized.  Whoa.  It looks like somebody was searching for something."

Videotapes were strewn around like dominoes.  Papers and strips of negatives littered the floor; film canisters were flung like dice.  Geoff picked up some booklets, flipped through them and put them on a shelf.

"Another jealous husband?"

Glenn whispered, "You don't think somebody's here, do you?"  She moved toward the front of the house.  "Let’s look upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Geoff asked.  "That seems kind of private.  Like trespassing."

"What do you call this?"

"I know.  This doesn't seem as bad, though."

"Come on."  She led the way up a wooden staircase.  "Uh-oh.  A camera."  She bent, and picked it up.

"Kind of a strange place to keep it."

"His Nikon F.  This is the first real photojournalist camera.  Phil considers it his good luck charm.  Got his first cover credit with it."  She turned it over in her hand, lifted it to her eye.  "He changed the focusing screen.  Used to have a microprism, but this is a clear screen."

"What's the difference?" Geoff asked.

"The microprism has a jagged pattern when the image isn't in focus.  The clear screen offers a brighter image in low light."

"I don't mean, what's-the-difference, as in, I want a course in cameras.  I mean, what's-the-difference, as in, who-the-hell-cares?"

They continued up the steps.  "The bathroom's that way.  I'll check the bedroom," she said.

"Jeez, what's that stench?"

"Electrical.  Maybe there's a short somewhere."  Glenn headed for the bedroom.  "Maybe it's a heater," she called down the hall.  "Could be dust in the heat register."

"Oh, God."  Geoff’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Glenn turned to see him backing out of the bathroom.  "What is it?"

Geoff blocked the doorway.  "Don't go in there."

"Why?  What is it?"

As soon as she pushed past him, she wished she had taken his advice.  It was Phil.  Seems he was home after all.

10

Philip Bleetz looked as if he’d dozed off in the bath.  His head was reclining against his shoulder; his elbow was crooked over the side of the tub.  The ghostly glow of a streetlight crept through the small casement window, spread across the linoleum, and spotlighted the death gaze in his pale, frozen eyes.  His whole countenance had the appearance of a martyr who had been gazing into heaven at the moment he slipped his earthly bonds.  Somehow Phil’s corpse had achieved a classic beauty and quiet dignity that had escaped him in life.  The only element that seemed out of place was the electric appliance that bobbed like a large tub toy between his knees.

"Let's get out of here."  Geoff took her by the wrist.

"I just had one of those adrenaline things you hear about.  My mind is suddenly sharp and clear."

"Let's go."  His hand closed around hers.

"Not yet."  She shook him off, and looked at the Nikon F she was still holding—Phil's camera, his lucky piece.  "We have to be smart."

"What we have to be is gone.  Now."

She looked at Geoff.  "We ought to make sure.  See if he's dead."

"You want me to...to touch him?"

"Go ahead, he won't bite."  She smiled, sadly.  "Not anymore."

"I'm not going to touch him.  You touch him."

"What's the matter, little man?  Scared?" Glenn asked.

"A little.  Besides, look at him.  He is definitely dead."

"I suppose you're some sort of expert."

"No, but I have a brain."  Geoff put two fingers to his temple.

Glenn looked at Phil.  "I wonder how long he's been here.  Put your hand in there.  See how cold the water is."

"Are you trying to kill me?  May I direct your attention to the hair dryer in the bathtub."

"You won't get shocked.  The lights are off, so it could have blown a fuse.  Go ahead," she said, nudging his arm.

"The water could still be holding a charge.  No way I'm going near that tub."

She took a deep breath.  "At least I can do my job."

"What?"

"Sh.  I'm nervous enough."

She slid along the sink until she was at a 45-degree angle.  Then, she took a picture of Phil.  Then, she shivered.  She climbed on the sink, and got a long shot of the tub.  That one probably wouldn't be any good, but she had to try.

"Can we leave now?" Geoff pleaded.

"Right behind you.  Just let me remove the film."

"Take the whole darn camera.  Who's gonna care?"

"I'm sure Phil would want me to have it."

"Yeah, I'm sure he left it to you in his will."

"I ought to at least say good-bye to him."  Glenn lowered her voice.  "I could swear he's still watching me, judging me."

"I thought it was just me, but I keep seeing his eyes move."

They quickly made the stairs.  "We should call someone," she said, when they reached the bottom.  "The cops, or somebody."

"Not until we're out."

"We left fingerprints."  She stopped.  On a table next to the wall sat a miniature aluminum Christmas tree.  "A timer."

"Open the door," Geoff said.

"Listen.  Phil loved contraptions, you know, gadgets.  Gadgets, gimmicks.  Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

She went to the darkroom, and returned with two pairs of linen gloves.  "We wear these to keep fingerprints off negatives.  Over here is the changing room.  Hidden cameras.  There's the vent."

Geoff snapped his fingers.  "The videos you saw were filmed in the bedroom."

"Go," she said.  "I'll search the studio.  Bring back any tapes you find.  If Phil's surveillance was any good at all."

"I get it," Geoff said.  "His killer might be caught on film."

"Hurry up.  I've got the heebie-jeebies."

Glenn dropped Phil’s camera into her coat pocket.  By the time they were finished, Geoff had confiscated two videotapes from upstairs, including one hidden in the bathroom vanity.  They piled them into a nylon gym bag and tried to remember to wipe the surfaces they'd touched.  They exited through the back door, breathing hard.

"Try to look casual," Geoff said.

They drove to a Sheetz store with a pay phone.  "Pull over," Glenn said.  She dialed 911.  "A man has been killed," she said, and gave the address.

"Are you there now?" the operator asked.  "What is your name?"

"Anonymous."  Glenn hung up.  Geoff looked at her when she got back in the car.  "I talked too much.  The way things have been going they'll probably identify me."

"Maybe we should wait for them, anyway," Geoff said.

Glenn shook her head.  "I don't know what's going on, but if we hope to find out, we've got to keep on the move."

"We disturbed evidence, not to mention removing the tapes.  They could have a murder on them.  Guess we’d better find out."  Geoff looked at the gym bag on the seat between them.  "He sure had a fascination with video tapes."

"Not just videos.  He taped phone conversations, too.  We didn't get those."

"We’re not going back," Geoff said.

"We can get there before the cops.  Go down that alley," she said.

"That's an alley?"

"It comes out on the other end of his parking lot.  Move it."

Geoff drove down the narrow lane.  "This is really stupid.  We're going to get so caught.  There isn't time to get inside again."

"Turn here," she said.  "We don't have to go inside.  It just dawned on me.  Here it is.  Thatis his car.  I knew it."

Glenn raced to the rusted Roadrunner, but the door was locked, and she knew she didn’t have a key for that.  The air stirred with red and blue lights.  She ran to the passenger side, and yanked on the handle.  Sirens filled her head. Break the glass .  She pulled the Nikon from her coat pocket, and struck the window.  Thud.  She struck again.  It held fast.  Suddenly, a gloved hand came from behind her, and grabbed the camera.  Geoff cocked back his elbow, launched himself forward, and punched the glass.  The window disintegrated, and she reached inside to unlock the door.

"Watch the glass," he warned her.

There was a nylon tape case on the front seat, and Glenn lifted it by the handle.  She handed it to Geoff.  Then, she went back inside.  She punched the eject button on the console, and a tape leaped out.  She pocketed it, and fled to the Granada, which was already moving.

"You have to back out," she said.

"There isn't room."

Geoff looked over his shoulder.  A police cruiser turned into the parking lot, and Geoff slammed his car into reverse.  Glenn leaned across him, and flipped the headlights off.  The car barreled backward, and she tumbled under the dashboard.  Geoff’s foot eased off the gas.

"Go!" she cried, and threw herself on the accelerator.

"Okay, okay."

He shook her off his leg.  She rolled back onto the seat, and stared wide-eyed at the city flickering past.  Her thoughts gathered inside her head, and she experienced that clarity of mind again.

"Take Branch Avenue.  Then, East West Highway."

"Oh, no.  I'm getting on I70, and I'm not slowing down until I hit Hagerstown."

"There's too much to do."  She wet her lips.  "I have to go home."

"No way."  He shook his head vehemently.  "I have to keep you away from there."

"All that matters is these tapes.  I have the equipment.  It's the only place I can go."  Glenn looked at him.  "I have to do this.  You don't have to stay.  Just take me home.  Please."

Geoff looked at her, and sighed.  "Okay.  But, I am going to stay with you."  He hammered the steering wheel.  "Bodies in bathtubs, breaking and entering, looting the scene of a crime.  And she looks at me with those big green eyes, and I go against every instinct for self-preservation.  I'm a mental case."

"Yeah," she said.  "But, at least you finally admitted it.  That’s the first step on the road to recovery."

"Yeah, well, those who live in glass nut houses shouldn’t throw stones."

"If I get out of this alive, I promise to join a twelve-step program for alcoholics, or workaholics, or whatever-aholics you think appropriate."

Geoff patted her arm.  "I don’t think they’ve come up a program for you, yet.  Or, me either, for that matter.  We both seem to suffer from pathologically poor judgment."

"Maybe we can have it surgically removed, like a bad gall bladder," she suggested.

"Yeah, right, and then have good-judgment implants put in their place."

"But, then we’d have no excuse for the crazy things we do.  What fun is that?"

Back in her apartment, Glenn turned on the lights, and adjusted the thermostat.  Geoff went to the sliding glass door, and peeked through the print curtain.

"Is anyone out there?" she asked.

"Just crack addicts stabbing each other.  Other than that…"

"I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor."  Glenn emptied the contents of her coat pockets on the coffee table.  "Can you do something for me?"

He looked at her.  "Sure."

"Hold me a minute?"

"Come here."  He helped her out of her coat, sat her on the sofa, and removed her gloves.  "This has got blood on it.  Didn't I tell you to be careful?  Let me get something for that cut."

"No," she said, clutching his shirt.  "Don’t leave me."

He wriggled out of his jacket, and surrounded her with his arms.  "I know," he said.  "I know."

He stroked her hair, starting at the crown of her head and going down the back of her neck and shoulders.

"I can't cry," she whispered.  "I can't stop shaking, but no tears will come."

"That was the worst thing I ever saw in my life.  I keep trying to convince myself it didn’t happen, but there sits the evidence."

She looked at it.  "Guess we’d better start sifting through it."

"Feel up to it?"

"Sure, you know me."   She tapped her chest.  "Heart of stone."

"Yeah."  He tapped her on the forehead.  "Head to match."

"Oddly enough, you're not the first to point that out."

"I could use a drink," he said.  "Just as small shot of whiskey.  Don’t look so shocked.  Excuse me, but I never saw a corpse before.  It made all my body hair stand on end.  Is that why you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Forget it.  You don't have a drinking problem, and even if you did it wouldn't be connected to your high-stress career-driven lifestyle."

Glenn smiled.  "I keep my hooch under the sink with the drain cleaner.  Help yourself.   Personally, I like the idea of hot chocolate.  I think I need a sugar fix."

"You are a gastronomic nightmare."

"I'm my own worst enemy."

"That remains to be seen."  Geoff looked at the loot on coffee table.

"I'm gonna get into my work clothes.  Would you mind putting the kettle on?"

"You want marshmallows with that?" Geoff asked.

"What do you think?"

Glenn returned wearing loose-fitting jeans and a pink and black checked flannel shirt open over a black tanktop.  A pair of pink socks slouched around her ankles.

"Here's my idea," she called, rummaging through her medicine chest.  "We label everything."

She came out of the bathroom with adhesive tape, and a sharpie.  She put the end of the marker between her teeth, and bit off the cap.  Then, she handed it to Geoff, and dug up the kitchen shears.  She watched a few seconds of each video, ejected it, put on a piece of tape, handed it to Geoff, and said, ‘bath vanity’, or ‘bedroom’, until all were labeled.

"Explain to me again.  Why are we doing this?" Geoff asked.

"Because," she said, straightening the stack.  "We need help getting through these.  We'll keep the audio tapes, and take the videos to Shane.  I've got a plan."

"Is it a good one?"

"You tell me."

Glenn used her fax to send a message to Shane.  Geoff frowned as he read it.

"Why do you want him to order groceries from the corner store?"

"So they won't be suspicious when we show up."  She got a brown bag from under the sink, and popped it open.  "You ready?"

Geoff loaded the cassettes into the paper bag while she scribbled a note to Shane.  "I guess so."  Geoff shrugged into his jacket.  "After all, weare the sports car."

Glenn laced up her high tops and placed a box of Fruit Loops on top of the brown bag where they would be visible.  They moved quickly, afraid if they didn’t, they’d lose their nerve.  If they’d have been a few seconds slower they would have heard the ee-eep of the fax machine, and read Shane's warning.  ‘Scanello's closed for midnight Mass.  Plan B?’

The way Geoff drove, it only took 15 minutes to get to Bethesda.

"Stop here," Glenn said.  "His house is on the next block."

Geoff steered into a spot that said 'No parking here to corner'.  "See anything?"

Glenn raised the camera, and telescoped down both sides of the block.  "They could be anywhere.  You sure you want to do this?"

"Actually, it's kind of fun."

"If you say so.  All you do is ring the bell," she said.

"I know what to do.  When someone comes to the door, I make sure it's Shane, and then give him the ‘groceries’."

"But, if it’s not Shane?" she asked.

"I pull the plug."

"Put the baseball cap on, and shove your hair up under it.  Looks good.  Orioles, huh?"

"Yep, gotta love dem O’s."

"Pull it down as far as you can.  Better put the bill in the back.  Oh, the note."

"Jeez, what a nag.  What do I look like?"

Glenn eyed him.  "Actually, like a delivery boy."  She took a deep breath.  "Just remember, don't give the note to anybody but Shane."

Geoff looked at her for a moment, then reached up, and pointed to the side of his face.  "Right here.  For luck."

"What are you talking about?"

"C’mon, give me a smooch, right here.  I’m about to go into battle for you.  The least you can do is give me a kiss for luck.  That’s not asking too much.  Now, plant it right here."

"Battle?  For me?"

"For all we know I could go out there, and get shot down like a dog in the street.  It’s a time-honored tradition for his lady fair to give her errant knight a kiss for luck.  I’m not making this up.  You can check it out for yourself in the history books."

"If I thought there was any chance of you being in any real danger I wouldn’t let you do this.  Besides, I’m not real big on tradition, in case you hadn’t noticed."

"That’s right, you’re into that whole role-reversal gig, aren’t you?  Okay, have it your way.  You don’t have to kiss me.  I’ll kiss you."

He moved quickly, scooping her head in his hand, and pressing his lips to hers.  After a second, he pulled back a little, then tilted his head, and kissed her more softly.  He changed positions again, and melted her resistance with a long, slow, intimate kiss.

"There," he said, opening his eyes.  "Now, I feel lucky."

"I’m so glad.  Anything else I can do for you while you’ve got me here?"

"Nope, I think that’ll do it for now.  Oh, maybe one other thing, now that you mention it."  He massaged the back of her neck with his hand.  "It’s also supposed to be good luck to rub the head of a bald chick."

"Shut up.  I am not bald, you freak show."

"Come on, you know you want it."  He buffed the top of her head with his knuckles.

She seized his hand.  "You want luck?  You’ll be lucky to get out of this car alive if you don’t knock it off."

"Hey, I don’t make up the rules, I just try to enforce them."  He took the shopping bag from her, and opened the car door.  "Don’t go away, wild thing.  I’ll be right back, and we can pick up where we left off."

Before Glenn could say anything else, he sprang out of the car.  She watched through her lens as Geoff strolled down the sidewalk.  When he got to the townhouse he stopped, and glanced down the street.  Then, he climbed the steps, and pushed the buzzer.  The townhouse door opened.  Glenn stuck her foot out on the curb, adjusted the camera, and steadied her elbows on the car door.  A man in a red and green sweater stepped onto the porch.  Something was wrong.  She left the car for a better look.

Geoff glanced in her direction, then said something to Shane.  Shane looked toward Glenn, who was advancing.  He pushed Geoff away, stepped back into the house, and slammed the door.  Geoff stood for a moment hugging the shopping bag, then ran down the steps.  Two men came out of the darkness.  One was directly across the street.  The other was moving across the road to the right.  Geoff made it to the bottom step, and saw Glenn coming toward them.

"Go!  Run!" he yelled.

She stopped, and lifted the camera to her eye—a small, over-coated woman with a camera where her face ought to be.

"Hold it, buddy."  The man reached the curb, and stood with an arm extended like a traffic cop.

"What do you want?  Who are you?" Geoff asked.

"I just want to ask a couple of questions.  Come along quietly, and nobody has to get hurt."

Geoff took two steps away.  Whatever he did, it had to be now, and it had to be fast.  He might only get one chance.  Concentrating on the man in front of him, he dropped the bag to the pavement, and found his balance.  Glenn's voice cut through the air.

"It's him!"

The large man lifted his arms like a linebacker, and rushed forward.  It was one of the men from Union Station.  Geoff lashed out with agility, and fierceness.  His knee came up, and he executed a textbook front kick, finding the man's solar plexus.  Without putting his foot down he positioned for a thrusting backward kick.  But, the man on the right made a small maneuver, and avoided most of the force of his heel.  He took Geoff's right arm with him as he twisted away, grabbing the elbow, and forcing it behind his back.  Geoff turned into it, raised his left arm, and back-fisted him in the nose.  There was a muffled crunch, and a grunt, and the man covered his face with both hands.  Geoff snagged the paper sack with one hand, and sprinted.

"Get to the car!" he yelled, waving Glenn back.

There was a flap of her coat tails, and she was on her way.  A few steps later a wall took shape, and stepped out of the shadows.

"Got you," he said.

Glenn saw his face, and felt iron fingers manacle her neck.  Her scream became a gurgle, and then it strangled in her throat.

11

A man leaped from a parked car.  He had something in his hand, some kind of club that he raised.  Geoff lifted his arms over his head in an X.  He absorbed the blow, rotated his inside hand, grabbed the man's wrist, and pulled.  As the arm straightened Geoff pulled back, preparing to break it above the elbow.  But, the attacker threw a left cross with his free hand, and it glanced across Geoff’s cheekbone.  The club went up again, and Geoff’s only defense was to shield his head.  He watched as the billy club hammered his arm.  The pain was excruciating, and the bitter taste of bile filled his mouth.

Geoff dropped to one knee, cradling his injured arm.  The nausea was dizzying, but he tried to ignore it, and watch for an opening.  The nightstick went up, and the assailant's right side was suddenly exposed.  Geoff saw it as if in a spotlight, as if it were introduced by a phantom announcer,Ladies and Gentlemen, The Ribcage .  Geoff gritted his teeth, and kicked upward.  His foot made contact.  He felt the chest collapse, and heard the ribs snap, like twigs under a carpet of leaves.  The club clattered to the sidewalk, and Geoff scooped it up.

Glenn was struggling with the other one, and Geoff went after him.  The man let go of her, and lunged.  There was the silvery flash.  Geoff aimed for it with the nightstick.  The knife swept past Geoff’s midsection, tearing his shirt, and opening a slit in his side.  He felt the sting as warm moisture wept through his skin.  He clubbed the inside of the attacker's right knee as an after-thought, but it was ill-timed.  Geoff spun around to face the knife again.  He was still off balance.

His opponent sensed it.  His lips curled into a half-smile, half-sneer as he made another lunge.  From behind, there was an explosion of light, and the man flinched away.  Geoff didn't have time to figure out what had happened.  The billy club cut through the air, coming down like an ax above the man’s thumb.  The wrist splintered like a rotten branch.  Geoff spun on his heel.

"Glenn?"

He heard Glenn’s voice as if from a well.

"Come on.  I've got the bag."

Blinded by headlights, Geoff held his uninjured arm over his eyes, and made for the voice.  Glenn drove toward him, and he limped into the passenger seat.  Then, she sped toward the interstate.  Geoff leaned back, breathing hard, his arm throbbing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Glenn said.  "Where am I going?"

Geoff looked at her clinging to the steering wheel with tight, white fingers, her eyes wide.  He was reminded of a wounded bird he'd rescued once.  The camera was still around her neck.

"Do we dare go to my place?" she asked.  "What is going on anyway?  What in the hell is going on?"

"Shane knew they were there."

"He would have warned me."

"He tried."

"No, I mean before we came out here.  What a mess."

Geoff looked out the window.  "Mezzarot road.  Get on Mezzarot."

"What?"

"My dorm.  They don't know about it.  Christmas break.  We won't run into anybody."  Geoff pressed his shirt to his side.  It was wet and cold, and the fabric was getting stiff.  "I'm bleeding."

"You are?  Did you get knifed?  How bad?"

"Not bad," he said, and grinned.  "Only a flesh wound."

"Another one of your lunatic moves."

"You're welcome," he said.

"I thought he missed you.  I shot my flash, and I thought it stopped him."

"Huh?  The light.  I thought it was gunshot."

"I had to wait until he was facing me.  I thought it was a pretty good idea."

"It was.  He got me on the first pass."  He groaned.  "I can't believe it.  I'm fighting for my life, forour lives, and you're taking pictures.  Unbelievable."

"I wasn't.  But, I should have.  That is so unprofessional.  A real photographer would have kept her wits about her.  I don't belong in this business."

"But, you did.  I saw you.  When you yelled.  In front of the house."

"Oh, that.  I was using the lens to watch your meeting.  When you told me to split I took a peek."  She shook her head.  "I'm an embarrassment to my profession.  What a great photo op.  I could kill myself."

Geoff wiggled his fingers, and flexed his wrist.  "I don't think it's broken.  Hurts like mad, though."  He inhaled.  Ribs seemed intact.  "Oh, crap, look at that.  They ruined my favorite T-shirt."

"I wish I’d gotten pictures of you.  That was amazing.  I didn't know you knew karate.  Is that what that was?"

"That's what it was supposed to be.  I've studied martial arts since I was a kid, but I never use it outside the classroom.  Who were those guys?"

"I recognized the big fella," Glenn said.

"Yeah, Shoulders, from Union Station," he said.

"What did he say to you?"

"Shane?"

"No, the big guy, Shoulders.  I thought he said something to you."

"Oh, something about questions.  He didn't want anybody to get hurt."

"Maybe not, but those other two meant business."

"I wonder if they were together," Geoff said.  "If the second group was their back-up?  They were aiming to make us extinct."

"The one who grabbed me could have opened my carotid artery in a heartbeat."

"If he wanted.  Which means he didn't want to.  So, they wantedme dead, andyou alive?"

"I don’t understand any of this.  Except that I owe you my life.  If you hadn't been there..."

"Think nothing of it, little lady," he said.

Glenn smiled at him.  "That's the worst John Wayne I’ve ever heard."

"Take Piney Branch to Adelphi.  We'll go in that way."  Geoff waved his finger toward the windshield, and changed positions.  "Man, that hurts.  Now that the numbness has worn off."

"I'm going to get some stuff from the drug store, and don't try to talk me out of it."

Glenn pulled into a shopping center.  Revco was open.  She purchased gauze, hydrogen peroxide, ace and butterfly bandages, and aspirin.  Then, she went next door to a liquor store, and bought a quart of overproof rum and a six-pack of Coke.  Geoff was staring up at the dome light when she returned.  All the life seemed to have drained out of him.

"Radio," he said.  "Tune in the news."

"Think they’ll mention Bleetz?"

"Photographer gets cooked in his own tub.  Sounds like news to me."

They were in the student parking lot by the time the update came on.  The announcer gave the details.  Phil Bleetz, nationally known photographer and Pulitzer Prize winner, was found dead in his Prince George's studio apartment.  There was a brief biography.  Then, the statement that the police were investigating, but it appeared to be suicide.

"Suicide?" she said.

"That must be what they're telling the press."

"You know what's sad?  Nobody will care.  There's no widow or children.  That's sad, isn't it?  What kind of life is that?"

Geoff nodded.  "Makes you think."

"How tragic to go through life without making a ripple.  To leave the world without leaving a hole."

"Nature abhors a vacuum," he said.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I think it means I'm delirious."

"Can you walk?  I'll carry this stuff, but I can't carry you."

"Head for Byrd Stadium."

Glenn put her nose in the air.  "Can't smell it without a game going on.  No hot dogs, no perspiration.  I'm trying to be amusing, to get your mind off your pain."

"Keep trying."  Geoff inhaled.  "Ah, the cold air feels good.  Look at you.  You look like a Sherpa.  Let me carry something."

"Oh, I forgot.  Only a flesh wound.  Here, take the Coke.  Are you warm enough?  Don't want you to catch your death."

"I don't intend to die from the cold.  When I go, I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory.  How do you want to go?" he asked.

"I want to go like a Jedi Knight, like Yoda.  You live a jillion years, and then just fade away.  Then, I’d go around haunting people.  What do you think would be the worst way to die?"

"Never thought about it," Geoff said.

"I want to go fast.  Suicide would be bad.  You dwell on it.  Then, at some point, there must come a moment’s hesitation when you think to yourself, ‘this was a bad idea’.  At least, that the way it seems to me."

Geoff’s dormitory was cold and empty, and they made their way up to the third floor, and his room.

She said, "I don't want to hear any arguments.  Drink this Coke out of the bottle down to about the top of the label."  While he did that, she cracked open the rum.  "This is pure alcohol, it'd eat away your insides if you consumed it undiluted.  It will kill the pain…if it don't kill you first.  Not really kill it, you just won't care about anything."  She filled the Coke bottle with the rum, and swished it around.  "That should water it down, and still give you a buzz.  Go ahead.  Sip, swallow, sip.  This is not lite beer."  She removed his blood-caked shirt, and he wilted like a limp wash rag.  "I'm not crazy about blood."

"Sit down.  I'll do it."

"I've got it.  Once we wipe away the blood, it won't be bad."

Glenn cleansed the wound, then held the stained gauze away from her like a squished cockroach.  She put it in the trash, and returned to Geoff who was guzzling the Coke.  She packed the wound, and held it in place by wrapping an ace bandage around him.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself.  How does it feel?"

"Good."  Geoff looked at the bandage, and touched his side.  "I feel like a mummy.  Don't be afraid.  I won't haunt you.  Have I had enough to drink?"

"How do you feel?"

"Woozy.  I think I've had enough."

"How about your arm?  It's starting to bruise.  Maybe I should wrap it.  We ought to have a cold compress, but we don’t have any ice."

"It's not broken.  But, could have a hairline fracture I 'spose," he said.

She wrapped his right forearm, then stepped back to look at her handiwork.  "Better put a clean shirt on.  Where do you keep them?"

"I'm going to lie down now."

"That's a good idea."

Glenn helped him under the covers, then stepped back.  He looked so peaceful.  She could only imagine what that must feel like.  She started pacing the floor, then stopped to look out the window.  She took another turn around the room, then perched on Geoff’s desk, drew her feet up on the chair, and wrapped her wrists around her knees.  When the silence became unbearable, she took a couple of drags on the Coke.  Then, she capped it, and placed it out of reach.

"What are you so somber about?"

Geoff lifted himself off the mattress, and put his head in his hands.  He looked crumpled, like a wadded up piece of paper somebody had thrown away.

"I was just thinking."

"Uh-oh.  About what?" he asked.

"I didn't mean it," she said, quietly.  "All that talk about wanting Phil dead, and how nobody would miss him.  I didn't mean it."

"I know that."

"I hated him.  I wanted to kill him, well, maim him anyway.  But, when I realize he’s gone forever, I feel a loss, I guess that's it.  Loss."  She paused.  "Am I gutless, or what?"

"Gutless?  Because you value human life?"

"Don't get carried away.  I never said Phil was human."

"You just don't think anybody deserves to be murdered."

"Is that what I said?  No, I think people pretty much get what they deserve.  At least I used to think that.  Lately, it seems like I'm trapped in some cosmic pinball game."

"The cosmic gamester is going to have to come up with something scarier."

"Scarier than death?  What's scarier than death?"

"I don't know.  Life?"

"Very Zen.  I also can't stop wondering if they are the same guys who killed Phil, and if we're next.  I keep going over it, and over it."

"You need to get your mind off it.  If you keep thinking about death you're going to attract it to us."

"I don'twant to think about it.  Can’t help it."

"There's a Scottish belief that death is attracted by the scent of the grave, like sharks on a trail of blood.  There’s a way to keep death from your door."

"Death repellent?" Glenn asked, with a smirk.

Geoff sat up on the edge of the bed.  "In the old days people believed spirits roamed the earth.  Spirits were powerful, but not very bright.  You could fool them by wearing masks.  All except Death.  It takes something powerful to defeat him."  Geoff got to his feet, and came toward her.  "The only thing that will shake the scent of the grave from you is something life-affirming.  Thus, the funeral wake.  People gather in the presence of the corpse to eat, drink, and enjoy the company of the living."

"Living well is the best revenge?"

"Living.  Period.  It's the antidote for Death."  Geoff put his lips in the crook of Glenn’s neck.  "I saw Death creeping up on you.  Don't look now, but he's right behind you."

"Are you trying to scare me, or seduce me?"

"I'm chasing Death away."  His lips brushed her ear lobe.

"And, this will trick Death?"

"What is more life-affirming than procreation?"  He kissed the side of her face.

"You sure you want to tangle with me?  You could get hurt," she said.

"You still don’t think I'm man enough for you?"

"You are wounded.  I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"That reminds me of a song.  Want to hear it?  I wrote it for you."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."  She looked at him, and smiled.  "You're good.  I know you’re lying, and yet, I almost believe you."

"Hush."  He leaned close.  "I breathe you inside me, The perfume of your name.  The fire in your eyes makes my soul catch flame."  He took her hand, and placed it on his chest.  "Your touch melts my heart, With love's sacred pain, Come wound me at last."  He cupped her chin in his hand. "Consume me again."

He kissed her, and she found herself believing the old ways.  She put her forehead against his.  "How does that go again? Your touch melts my heart ."  She placed his hand on her chest.  "With love's sacred pain?"

"Come wound me at last."  His hand followed the contour of her figure.

"Come wound me," she said.  "Consume me again."

His eyes played over her face as he traced a heart around her lips.  She slipped her flannel shirt off her shoulders, and his fingertips touched her T-shirt.  He ran his soft lips across the curve of her neck.

"This feels all wrong," he said.  "You deserve better than this.  Candlelight and Champagne, satin sheets.  Give me a second," he said.  "I know where I can find some candles, at least."

Geoff roamed around, finding candles, and lighting them.  Then, he turned off the lights.  When he returned, he swept her into his arms, crushing her against his bandaged chest.

"I love you," he said. "I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you."

"You did not.  You were nasty to me."

"I had to be, because I loved you."

"Stop saying that."

"Would you rather just go through the motions?  Wouldn't you rather hear the words, if they come from my heart?"  He held her at arm’s length.  "What's the matter?"

"Can't we just get this over with without all the hearts and flowers?"

"I think making love should have something to do with love.  And, what do you mean, ‘get it over with’?"

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," she said.

"You sure know how to throw cold water on a guy."

"I wish I hadn't said anything.  I’ll keep my mouth shut."

"Don’t," he said, and nibbled her bottom lip.  "It's an interesting mouth.  But, you've got to let me say what I want."

"You talk too much."

Glenn sighed, and ran her fingertips across his collarbone.  He put his fingers on her chin, closed his eyes, and placed his lips over hers.  Something inside her took wing, some wild thing broke free.  Her lips parted, and she pressed herself to him.  She had that sensation again, as if she was drowning in chocolate.  She pulled away, slid off the desk, and strolled across the room, glancing back over her shoulder with a ‘come and get me’ look in her eye.

"You have a very sensuous body.  Do you know that?"  He joined her on the bed.  "And, when you work, you sway.  I knew the moment I saw you take that picture that I wanted to take you to bed."

"Which picture?"

"The one of my parents.  You set your feet like a sprinter in starting blocks, one in front, the back foot up on the toe.  Then, your knees dipped.  You bent at the waist, your hips slid back, and your rear end hung suspended in air.  I wanted to tackle you right then and there."

"In front of your folks?  That's pretty sick."

"I prefer being alone with you like this, nothing but you, and me, and the night."  He circled her with his arms.  "You make me feel like Columbus.  New worlds are waiting to be discovered."  He put his palm on hers, and their fingers entwined.  "I never tasted anything until I kissed you, now nothing will ever taste sweet again."

"How can you think of such pretty things to say?"

"How can I not, when I'm with you?"

His steady gaze smoldered darkly, and candlelight flickered across him, streaking his hair and skin with red and gold like sunset, softening the angular set of his jaw.  She'd never seen him like this, and she had an irresistible impulse to capture him.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't move."  Glenn scurried across the room, and searched the darkness for her camera bag.

"No, don't.  Not that."

She dragged it into the light that spilled in the bottom of the window.  "This won't take a minute."

"Come back to bed."  He held his hand out to her.  "Please don't do this."

"What if I can't help myself?  Moments like this make you gush poetry.  They affect me differently."

He put his face in his hands, and groaned.  "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing.  Believe me, you’re doing everything right.  You look so great in this light, so handsome, and masculine.  Just one picture?  I'll let you use the‘L’ word."

"Will you say the‘L’ word to me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip.  "Maybe."  She snapped the camera together, held it in the window light, and read the F-stop.  "Just one, and I'll come back to bed.  For good.  For the rest of the night."

"I never heard anything so ridiculous in my life."

"This is how I express myself.  If you can't accept that, we would be just going through the motions."

He stared at her for a moment.  "Aren't you cold?"

"Freezing."

"Well, we can't have you cooling down too much," he said.  "What do you want me to do?  Just sit here?"

"I'll pose you in a minute."  She swung the camera into the light.

"You're about halfway kinky, did anybody ever tell you that?" Geoff said.

"This isn't porn, it's art," she said.

"I bet you say that to all the guys."

She laughed.  "Can I help it if you're so photogenic?"

She straightened, and something caught the corner of her eye—something outside, below.  She leaned forward, and saw someone cross the lawn.  A student who didn't go home for Christmas?  He met another person, and they looked up at the dormitory.  She saw their breath in the night air when they spoke.  One of them pointed toward her, and she drew a sharp breath.

"What is it?"

Geoff was at her side in a second.  The two men split up and came toward the building.

"How did they find us?  How did they know we were here?"

Geoff took the camera out of Glenn’s hand.  "Get your coat on."

"Where are we going?"  She ran her hands through her hair, and tried to think.  "They'll just find us again."

"No, they won't.  Put it on.  Now."

Glenn disappeared inside her coat while he went into the hall.  He ran back, and locked the door.

"I don't know how they got inside.  They must have campus security with them.  We can't get out that way."  He pulled on a crew neck sweater, and his leather jacket.  "The window."

"I can't get away from them, from what I've done."

Geoff wet his thumb and finger, and pinched the flames off the candles.  There was a small hiss, then darkness.  "We're not done for yet."

"You go.  It's me they want.  Save yourself."

"Talk about macho."  He opened the window, put a foot on the sill, and an arm back for her.  "I'm not leaving without you.  Take my hand.  I'll carry you if I have to."

Cold air rushed into the room, and her eyes watered.  "You've done too much for me already."

Geoff stretched, grabbed her, and pulled her through the window onto the fire escape.  "They're down there."  He closed the window.  "Have to go to the roof.  Climb."

She scaled the icy rungs, hand over hand, until they reached the roof.  He took her hand, and made for the rooftop door.

"Once we get inside I can find a way to get past them.  One advantage is that I know this building better than they do.  Gr, it’s locked."

Glenn flung her arms around him.  "Hold me.  One last time."

"Stop being so melodramatic.  We're getting out of here," he said.  "I won't let anything happen to you.  I haven't so far, have I?"

"Everything seems so peaceful up here.  Look how clear the stars are.  So bright and near, like you could touch them," she said.

"Let's go."

"It's over.  I know what I have to do.  Just promise you won't hate me."

"Stop talking nonsense.  I could never hate you."

"They're going to tell you what I did and you're going to hate me."

"Never."

"Tell me you love me once more before they come."

"But, they're not..."

"No, don't say it.  I don't deserve you.  I deserve...I'll distract them.  You slip away.  After I'm gone, they'll leave you alone."

She took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

"I do love you, you know," she said, and smiled.  "I didn't want to, but I do.  How could I not?"

She ran for the edge of the roof.  She wouldn't stop, wouldn't look down.  She'd step on the wall, and hurl herself into cold uncaring space.  There'd be a few seconds of free fall, then oblivion.  They'd be so startled to see her that they'd forget all about him.  He'd escape, and all her worries would be over.  She'd do one worthy thing with her life, and stop this thing in the bargain.  The wall was seconds away.  Courage for just a few more yards, and then, escape.  Escape for both of them.  She sprinted faster, and then her feet were out from under her, and she was flying.

12

God’s face was starry and serene.  God’s voice was deep.  It boomed inside her.  He wrapped her in arms of steel, as angels sang, "Oh, God, my God."

Geoff’s face came into focus above Glenn.

"My God!  What are you trying to do?  Kill yourself?"

Glenn felt gravel digging into her back, and realized her legs had been knocked out from under her.  Geoff had robbed her of her heroic deed, plucked her from the vest pocket of God.  She was angry, and resentful.  And relieved, so relieved.

"Get off me."  She scrambled to her feet.  "Why couldn't you let me do it?  After what I did."

"What do you think you've done?"

"You want to know?  All right."  Her voice faltered.  "It's me.  I'm the one."

There was a thumping on the door.  Geoff pushed her ahead of him.

"We've got to get inside," he said.

"Listen to me.  I'm the reason Bobby is dead.  Do you hear me?  I'm the one who killed your brother."

Geoff pinned her against the door with his forearm.  "You think this is some sort of joke?  Why would you say such a horrible thing?"   A key picked at the lock, and he put his lips against her cheek.  "When I tell you to, slam the door."  He stood in front of the door with his hands in the air.  "Slam it hard.  Understand?"

Glenn swallowed a rising groan.  It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before the door edged open, and Geoff faced a police revolver.  It was the bravest thing she had ever seen, and she concentrated on him with eerie fascination.

"Don't shoot, man!  I'm not resisting."  Geoff put his hands behind his neck.

"Where's the other one?  The girl?"

The door opened wider.  Glenn held her breath, and flattened against the wall.

"Over the side," Geoff said, pointing.  "I couldn't get her up the fire escape.  She was acting crazy, screaming, and crying."

"Get down.  Face first."

"Anything you say."

Geoff knelt down.  A revolver inched into view, attached to leather arms.  It was grasped in both hands, and pointed at Geoff’s chest.

"On your face."

Geoff went down on all fours.  The pistol shifted to the left hand, and when it did the barrel nosed upward.

"Down."  The guard reached for cuffs on the back of his belt.

"Now!"  Geoff yelled, and hugged the rooftop.

Glenn threw every ounce of her weight against the door.  The security guard was slender, and the force caught him like her Louisville slugger.  The gun spun suspended from his finger.  Geoff somersaulted, dropping the guard and the revolver at the same time.  In the brief scuffle Geoff’s knee found the guard's chest, and Glenn scuttled across the roof like a crab to retrieve the gun.  The guard shouted until Glenn handed the pistol to Geoff who put it under the guard’s chin.

"Hush, now," Geoff said.  "I'm nervous, and I don't know enough about guns to keep one from going off, even accidentally.  Okay?  Are we clear?"

Glenn picked up the guard’s cap, and put it on her head to free her hands.  "What are we going to do with him?"

The guard said, "Why don't you handcuff me to the door?"

"You’ll warn the others," Glenn said.

"Take my radio."  The guard pointed to the hand mike on his belt.

"You're being awfully helpful," Glenn said.

"Hey man, I just work here.  This is my kid’s first Christmas, and I only took this job because it seemed like a nice quiet way to earn a little extra cash.  Most of these buildings are empty.  The last thing my wife told me was that she'd kill me if I got shot.  If you think I'm gonna trade that to bust a couple college kids."

"You really want to help, tell us how to get out of here," Geoff said.

"You can't.  All the exits are covered."

"If we did get out, could we get to my car?" Geoff asked.

"I wouldn't.  They've got it."

Geoff took a couple steps back.  "Get his handcuffs, and lock him to the door."

"Won't we need him?" Glenn asked, as the guard walked in front of her.

"I'd rather not do that if we can help it," Geoff said.

"Thanks, man," the guard said, and Glenn was struck by the youthfulness of his voice.  As she secured one cuff to the door handle, he said, "You don't look like such bad ass perpetrators.  What did you do?  Feds down there are real serious."

"Feds?" Geoff asked.

"Yeah, not to mention us campus guys."

"Damn," Geoff said.

"I told you," Glenn said.  "They're never going to let us leave this place alive."

"Come on," the guard said.  "What did you do?"

"Don't you know?  What did they tell you?" Geoff asked.

"Nothing.  I’m nobody."

"You want me to cuff…" Glenn began, then jumped at a sudden blurt of radio static.

"Answer it," Geoff said, waving the gun at the guard.  "No heroics."  Geoff leveled the pistol at him, and cocked the hammer.

"Unit Seven reporting.  Spotted them on the fourth floor.  Repeat.  All units to the fourth floor."

"That's a copy, Unit Seven."

"That'll keep them off the roof for a few minutes," Unit Seven told them.

Glenn said, "It's a trick.  He's playing us."

"Probably."  Geoff stared at her for a full five seconds.  "You know?  In this light...I wonder if that would work?  Get undressed."

"What?"  Glenn asked.

"Not you," Geoff said.  "You, guard, take off your uniform.  Hurry up, we've wasted enough time.  Shirt first, then you cuff him."

The guard started unbuttoning his shirt.

Glenn said, "You can't fit into his uniform.  He's shorter than you."

"But you can," Geoff said.  "Give me your coat."

Unit Seven stripped to his skivvies, Glenn slipped his khaki uniform over her clothes, and Geoff orchestrated everything wearing her overcoat.

"The waist is too big," she said.

"Tighten the belt."

"It's as tight as it goes."

"Then tie it, don't buckle it."

"The holster weighs a ton.  I'll never be able to keep these pants up."

"Could you just stop whining for one second?" Geoff asked.  "Put the cap on.  Let him keep his jacket.  You can wear mine.  It looks the same in the dark and, well, if they spot that much we're doomed anyway.  Here," Geoff said, to Unit Seven.  "It's too cold out here to leave you naked.  You have to promise not to call for help."

"I can't do that.  You'll have to knock me out."

"Don't make me do that.  Just promise."

Unit Seven stood up straight, and looked Geoff in the eye.  "It's my job to stop you.  I'm going to scream my lungs out as soon as you're gone.  I have to."

"Not if I put a bullet in your throat."

Glenn rolled her eyes.  "Men!  You’re worse than freaking dogs."  Glenn pulled the clip-on tie off her uniform, wadded it up, and shoved it into the guard’s mouth.  "Why don't you just piss on each other, and have done with it?"

Unit Seven made a muffled sound, and they looked at him.  He reached into his jacket pocket, and jangled his keys.  Geoff took them.  "Where are you parked?"  The guard pointed west.  "You going to tell them about this, too?"

Unit Seven nodded.  Geoff stared at him for a moment, then lifted the gun, and cracked the guard on the left temple.  His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he sat down.

"Why'd you do that?" Glenn asked.

"Am I the only one who noticed?  His right hand was free.  As soon as we left, he'd pull the gag out of his mouth, and yell."

"You really are a bad ass, aren't you?"

"You want to hang around here rearranging the cuffs, be my guest."

Geoff secured the door behind them.  A bare low watt bulb lighted the stairway.  He braced his feet against the wall on either side of the steps and shimmied up.  He looked down at her.

"That come with a flashlight?"

She felt along her holster, and nodded.  "It's a damn utility belt, Batman.  Got everything."

Geoff unscrewed the bulb, and darkness was immediate.

"Should I get it out?"

"Not yet," Geoff said, piloting her down the stairs.

They were going around the third floor landing, and she was thinking how acute her senses were becoming, how she could smell the paint on the walls, and then she tripped.  There was the sound of metal skidding across tile and voices from the floor below.  Geoff felt around the floor with his toe.

"Wait," he said.  "Paint cans."  He pulled Glenn down with him.  "Under here."

The canvas tarp was heavy with the odor of latex and turpentine.  She wriggled underneath.

"This will never work," she said.

Geoff held the gun in both hands, steadying it between his knees.         Footsteps arrived and departed, going upward.  Glenn stirred, but Geoff checked her with an elbow jab.  Voices rose in volume as they returned.

"Where’d we lose them?"

"I didn't see anything.  What happened to the lights?"

"We cut off all escape routes.  They must be on the fourth floor."

"Let's go.  Be careful.  Better assume they're armed."

"They're just kids."

"Tell that to Lou when he gets out of the emergency room.  Thosekids busted his nose."

"Let's hope we don't have any heroes here tonight.  Why couldn't they just come in?  I hate when these situations become uncontained."

Glenn felt Geoff wither beside her.  His arms relaxed and he uncovered his head.

"Get me to a phone," she said. "There's someone I can call."

"Then, you're going to tell me what you had to do with my brother's death."

"First things first.  We have..."

"Thatis first.  That is everything."

They made it down the stairs so simply she began thinking it was a trap.  When they rounded the last landing she saw a uniformed officer.  The guard heard them, and turned, but they retreated without being seen.  Geoff tilted against the wall, and stared at the ceiling.  Glenn chewed on her lip.

"Time to try out that uniform."

"Won't he notice I'm a girl?" Glenn asked.

"Not if it’s dark.  Fuse box is in the student lounge.  Behind the Pepsi machine.  All we have to do is walk across this end of the lobby.  You can make it."

"What do I know about fuses?  Why don't you use one of those fancy karate moves on him."

"You might think I'm Superman, but I am not faster than a speeding bullet.  Make a run for it."  The radio squawked.  "Get to the fuse box.  I'm going on the air.  Don't stop for anything.  Black out all the lights, and run for the door there.  Got your flashlight?  I'll meet you outside."

She took a deep breath.  "I can't, I can't."

"Just keep moving.  Scoot."

Geoff shoved her between the shoulder blades.  She sucked in enough air to swim underwater; thinking that perhaps holding her breath would somehow make her invisible.  Her feet slapped every step, echoing into infinity.  Sneakers were supposed to be, well, sneaky.  She zigged over the last step and zagged to the left.  She saw the officer out the corner of her eye.  He started toward her.  She waved, and kept moving.  Her cap caught a sudden updraft, and peeled back from her forehead.  She jammed it back on her head, and slid into the student lounge.

The Pepsi machine was on the far wall.  She had room enough to squeeze between it and the wall.  The fuse box was held shut by a pincer mechanism that she pulled with a jerking motion.  There were a dozen switches in the ON setting.  By putting her finger on the outside, and sliding them toward the center of the box she reset them to OFF.  She heard each distinct snap.  The next to the last one plunged her into darkness.  She scrambled from the corner, and felt for her flashlight.  Pointing it at the ground she made a dash to the lobby where she collided with the guard.

"Starsky?" the guard asked.

Glenn shone the flashlight in his eyes.  He flinched, held up his hand, and swatted the light away.

The radio blurted, and an excited voice yelled, "They're on the roof.  All units respond."

"What's happening up there?"  The guard went toward the staircase.

Glenn ran for the door, crashed into it, and felt the rush of cold wind on her face.  Her exit alerted another guard.  He was fifty yards away, heading her way.

"Who's there?" he called.  "Who is that?"

Aclank signaled that someone had followed her out.  She looked over her shoulder, and a whisper asked, "What's your name?"

"Unit Seven," she whispered back.

"No, yourname ?"

She felt the nametag on her uniform, and ran the light over it.  "What do you know?  Starsky.  That's my name."

The officer was coming toward her, and she pointed the light at him, stopping his advance.  Geoff crept behind her, and held her hand steady.  He put his cheek next to hers.

"Starsky!  It's Starsky, Unit Seven."

"Get that light out of my face, you moron."

Glenn saw the guard put his hand on the handle of his revolver as Geoff lowered the light to his neck.  "Sorry," Geoff said.  "They're on the roof."

"I heard.  What are we supposed to do?"

"Stay here," Geoff said.

Glenn looked at him over her shoulder.

"Where're you going, Starsk?" the guard asked.

"Feds got me running errands.  Don't want to share the glory."

"What's going on up there?"  The guard relaxed his gun hand, but was advancing again.

"Don't ask me, man.  I just work here."

Geoff let go of Glenn’s hand, and ran down the sidewalk.  She leveled the light at the guard, and could almost hear his eyes slam shut.  She scampered away, her heart banging against her ribs, and blood squirting against her eardrums.  There was a rustle in the bushes next to the path, and Geoff sprang out.

She squealed.  "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Who me?  I just work here."  He laughed.  "He lied to us.  His car isn't here."

"I'm glad you hit him," she said.  "Where do we go from here?"

"Let's take the high road," he said, pointing.

"Where your car is parked?  But, he said…"

"Haven't you been listening?  He lied to us.  Besides, we still have the uniform, and flashlight."

"It's gotten us this far."  As they hiked up the hill to the student lot, Glenn looked at him.  "You're very brave.  And smart.  I couldn’t believe my eyes when you stood right in front of the guard’s gun."

"What’s so smart about surrendering to a cop?  That’s the easy thing to do.  Trying to make a run for it in a situation like that, now that’s stupid."

"Still, it bought us our freedom."

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose–Kris Kristofferson.

"I thought it Janis Joplin."

"She sang it.  He wrote it."

"Oh.  Well, you’re just a fountain of trivia, aren’t you?"

Geoff glanced back over his shoulder.  "Yeah, like that’s what we need to be concentrating on right now.  It was important to me to get us out of there so you could tell me what you did to Bobby.  You owe me that much.  And, after that, I don’t ever want to see you again.  Are we clear?"

"Yes."  She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.  "I guess there won’t be any more cozy breakfasts for two in our future."

"You got that right."

There didn't seem to be anyone in the parking lot when they got there.  Not that it mattered.  She really did feel as if she had nothing left to lose.  She hurried ahead of him, striding out into the open.  If there was going to be an ambush, she wanted to be the first one in the line of fire.  Geoff quickly joined her at the car.

"You have the keys?" she asked.

"You're wearing my pockets."  He put his hand out.

She put the keys in his palm, and got in the car.  As they were driving through the lot, she got the feeling again that it was all too easy.

"We're not going to get far in this," she said.

"I know.  I'll have to ditch it.  Man, I love this car.  I thought you were going to call somebody."

"Not without a phone."

Geoff stopped the car behind Tawes Fine Arts Center.  He curled his right arm around the back of the seat.  "I want answers."

Glenn looked through the windshield.  She thought of all the things she'd left behind: her camera, her secrets, a pint of overproof rum.

"We're almost off campus.  Can't this wait until we're safe?"

"Nope."

"You did assault a police officer."  She wet her lips, and looked at him out the corner of her eye.  "I'll spill everything.  I promise."

"Now."

She looked at her hands lying empty on her lap.  "It's complicated."

"What's so complicated?  Did you, or did you not kill my brother?"

"Of course not."

"Then that's just something you say?  Something to break the ice?  By the way, I killed your brother."

"I didn't mean it.  I was overwrought."

"I'm a little wrought myself."

"What did you do with the gun?" she asked.

"It's still in my pocket," he said.  "Now, you want to answer my questions?  Look at me while you talk."

"I forgot, you like to see the soul in my eyes," Glenn said.

"You forgot, I know what a liar you are."

Her jaw began working.  "Have you ever heard of the AFIB?  They contacted you after Bobby's death."

"Not that I know of."

"It's the agency that investigates the deaths of military personnel.  Especially if there are extenuating circumstances."

"Like with Bobby?"

"I was in my hotel room after the shooting.  These guys came.  AFIB.  Said they knew I was the last one to speak to Bobby.  The questioning went on for hours.  What did he say to me?  Why did he move to the other table?  How well did I know him?  When they let me go, I took the next plane to Dulles.  I thought that was the end of it.  But, when I got back, I got another visit."

"Same people?"

"They put me in the back of a panel truck, and took me some place.  I heard someone say it was the Pentagon.  A guy in a naval uniform asked the same questions, only this time a clerk was there taking down my statement.  Then, they showed me a picture.  The picture that was responsible for Bobby's death."

"A picture you took?" Geoff asked.

"Kinda."

"Kinda?"

"It was a composite," she said.  "I’d snapped some pictures of Bobby.  He posed standing at attention, things like that.  There was one of him pointing his rifle."  Her chin quivered.  "Later, I took a picture of a student who was gunned down.  It was one of a half-dozen snaps.  It seems that somehow, these two pictures... got together."

"What two pictures?"

"The picture of an unarmed Arab woman, and Bobby holding his rifle.  It looked like he was aiming at her.  They wanted to know if I took the picture."

"And, you told them ‘kinda’?" he asked.

"I told them the truth.  You’re a big fan of the truth.  For all the good it did me."

He studied her for a moment.  "I'll drive to the shopping center.  There's a pay phone there.  You keep talking.  Who are you working for?"

"You have to understand.  My career was nowhere.  After my affair with Phil, nobody took me seriously.  They said I was using Phil to sleep my way to the top.  It didn’t matter that he was a broken-down has-been.  The only door he opened for me was his bedroom door.  So, when the war broke out I saw my big chance to be a war correspondent.  But, I couldn’t even do that right.  I couldn't scrape together airfare, much less spend months free-lancing.  I needed contacts, a sponsor."

"Who was your sponsor?"

"I'd done some commercial work for a company.  They wanted to bankroll me," Glenn said.

"Why?"

"They didn’t say, and I didn't ask.  It was the opportunity I was praying for.  I admit it.  I'm guilty as hell.  They handed me a plane ticket, and that's all she wrote.  They paid my bills, and hired me a Kurdish assistant.  He knew the lay of the land, the culture, the language.  I could never have gotten into the places I did without him.  All I had to do was make dupes of the negatives.  I gave them to him, and that was the end of it.  I swear.  I never dreamed someone would use my negatives to invent a war.  I thought I was recording history in the making."

"Did they believe you?" Geoff asked.

"I guess so.  Shortly afterward they told me they had an assignment for me."

"What assignment?"

"This one," she said.

Geoff stopped the car, and looked at her.  "Don't make me repeat myself."

She frowned.  "I'm getting a little sick of this bad-boy routine of yours.  I'm doing the best I can."

"What assignment?"

"You.  Your family.  My assignment is to protect you from terrorists."

Geoff’s eyes widened.  Then, he laughed.  "You?  Ha, ha.  You're going to protect me?"

He held his stomach, and howled like a curly-haired hyena.  Before she could stop herself Glenn slapped him across the cheek, so hard it stung her elbow.  He knocked her back on the seat, put his forearm across her windpipe, and squeezed until she blacked out.

13

The slamming of the car door jarred her awake.  Glenn sat up, her thoughts racing.  She was in a tunnel.  The passenger door was next to the wall, and couldn't be opened.  She slid across the seat to get out the driver's side.  There was a burbling sound, and she looked down at the dark water slipping past.  Nothing was simple today.  Today?  Was it still today, or had tomorrow arrived by now?  Glenn freed herself from the weight of the holster, and sank her ankles into the cold water.  It was dark behind.  Ahead was a glow and, in it, the silhouette of a man.

Geoff was still wearing her coat.  He was staring ahead.  Did he have the gun?  Glenn dragged her feet closer, each sneaker containing a concrete sock.  She was two yards from him when he screwed his head in her direction.

"You still alive?"

"Better luck next time," she said.  "I want my coat back."

"I've grown attached to it," he said, spreading it open.  "Fits me, don't you think?"

She took another step forward.  "I want my coat back."

"So predictable.  I knew the first thing you'd do was try to boss me around."

"Yeah, you shoulda killed me when you had the chance."

He shook his head, and smiled sadly.  "You're one of a kind, that's for sure.  Is it any wonder I love you?"

She chewed on her lip.  "Is that what the young folk are calling it these days?  Well, who am I to let a little thing like strangulation stand in the way of true love?"

"I didn't strangle you.  I just suffocated you a little until you passed out."

"Oh, well then, I stand corrected.  Let the love-fest begin."

"Remember, you slugged me first.  Don't take it so personally.  Any more than I take what you did personally.  Tempers flare, emotions run high, people slap people.  Doesn't mean they don't love ‘em."

"Ah, the Marquis de Sade school of romance.  I remember it well."

Geoff laughed.  "I’ll never do anything like that ever again.  Promise.  But, I couldn’t very well let you leap from the car.  After everything you said, I didn’t know what to do.  Then, you got that look on your face like a deer caught in the headlights, and I didn’t know which way you were going to bounce.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, but all I could think of off the top of my head was to put you out of commission until I could find some place safe to park the car.  Heaven knows, reasoning with you never works.  But, I am sorry.  Forgive me?"

He opened his arms for her, and she instinctively went to him.

"I'm sorry, too.  About your brother…about everything."

He surrounded her with the fabric of her own coat.  "You never apologized to me before."

"I've never been wrong before."

He laughed again.  The rich warm tone of it resonated under her cheek.  Then, he put his face next to hers.

"I just needed some time alone.  I’m okay now."

"You aren't mad about Bobby?"

"Sure, I am.  Furious, in fact.  But, not at you.  You're as much a victim as my brother was.  I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yet."

"No, I’m a victim of my own greed for fame.  I should have been smarter, asked more questions.  My gut was trying to warn me, but my ambition wouldn't listen.  I had something to prove, and that's all that mattered.  I’m truly sorry."

"Wow, another sorry," he said.

"You're a bad influence on me.  What’s that sound?"

"I think it’s a helicopter.  Drove down the bank into the culvert.  Guys that make beer runs to the District do this to outsmart the cops."

"You really do have a criminal mind, don't you?" she said.

"That’s Sligo Creek Parkway up there.  We could hike up, and take a back street to the house.  We can probably make it without being spotted."

"What house?"

"Where my grandparents live."  He stared through the stark treetops, then shut his eyes.  "I’m so tired.  I could sleep for a week."

"I know."

"At least you got a nap."  He smiled at her.

"Ha, ha, funny man.  I wouldn’t be bringing that up again, if I were you.  Gosh, my feet are cold."

He picked her up, and carried her to the car.  She slid across the back seat, and he got in beside her.

"Come on," she said.  "I'll be your pillow.  Just don't get used to it."

They peeled off their wet pants.  He laid his head on her lap, and she covered them both with her coat.

"Roll over, away from me," she said.

"I have to snuggle into my pillow."  He snaked his arm around her, and fingered her button flap.  "I could never resist a woman in uniform."

"And they sayI'm weird," she said.

"That's what I'm counting on.  Need some help getting out of that?"

"Where's that gun?"

He held his hands apart.  "Frisk me.  I'll give you a hint.  It's in my shorts."

She laughed.  "I thought you were just glad to see me."

"No way.  That's a concealed weapon, I swear."

"Sh," Glenn said, and laid her hand on his head.  "Go to sleep."

For the first time in months she drifted into slumber without the sight of Bobby’s tortured face popping up under her eyelids.  She was asleep, just like that.  Her thought factory shut down.  Little dream-helpers carried picket signs that called for an immediate end of operations.  Production of thoughts was outlawed.  A cease-and-desist order was issued to all memory cells.  And then, some scab sneaked across the line, and threw the switch.  The machinery steamed into production, and the usual nightmare was manufactured, and dumped into her brain.

Glenn reared up, and smashed herself against the window.  She scratched for the door handle, but couldn't claw it open.  She swatted the glass with her open palm.  It wouldn't go away.  Then, she found the handle, and threw her weight against the door.

"Whoa," Geoff said.

The tunnel wall stopped her.  The door wouldn't open more than six inches.  Maybe she could squeeze out.  She detected the scent of freedom, and was sure that if she wriggled hard enough she’d surface.  Geoff’s hands hooked around her hips, and reeled her onto his lap.  She flopped on her belly, and tried to swim past him to the other door.  He held on.  She writhed, and twitched, and gasped for air.  She sat up, and fumbled for her clothing.  Unable to locate her pants, she ran her hands over her face, then squinted at the window for signs of daylight.  She tried to see out another window, but it was fogged.  She continued the search for her pants.

Geoff reached for her.  "You're embarrassed," he said.  "I don't believe it."

"Am not," she said.  "I'm frustrated because I can't find my stupid clothes."

"I've got ‘em."

She looked at him.  "Give ‘em here."

"Not until you admit you're embarrassed."

"Puh-lease.  What do I have to be embarrassed about?"

"Nothing.  But, youare embarrassed.  It's cute."

"Gee, Geoff, do you suppose you could be a little bit more annoying?  I haven't completely lost all will to live."  She ran her fingers through her hair.  "I need a drink."  She cranked the window down, and felt the air on her face.

"If you're not embarrassed, why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not.  I’m trying to forget."  She rolled the window back up, and stared at the water streaks left by the steam.  "Bad dreams.  It has nothing to do with you, although your ego makes you think it must.  Sometimes, I have bad dreams, and it makes me feel weird when I wake up."

"It doesn't make you feel weird to wake up with a half naked man?"

"It would take more than the sight of your boxers to make me run screaming."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.  "Here.  Let me hold you.  Women like that."

"You have a lot to learn about women.  We are not all alike."

"Teach me," Geoff said.

She had to smile.  Stretching along the length of him, she tucked her head under his chin. "Why do you want to make me talk about this?"

"It makes me feel close to you."

"You want intimacy?  Let’s get real intimate.  Tell me your middle name."

"I’ll give you a hint, it starts with ‘C’.  And Bobby’s started with a ‘B’."

"I read it somewhere.  Robert B. Duncan, B... B."

"Burns.  Robert Burns, like the poet," he said.

"Robert Burns, the poet.  And, you’re Geoffrey C. Duncan.  Clyde, Cecil."

Geoff laughed.  "You’ll never guess.  What’s your middle name?"

"It starts with an ‘L’."

"The ‘L’ word.  It must be Love, Glenda Love."

"No, it’s not Love.  There’s no love in me," she said.

"I know. The ‘L’ stands for Lancelot," he said.

"That’s not a girl’s name."

"That’s right, I keep forgetting.  You’re a girl."  He touched the side of her face.  "You have the most amazing eyes.  Do you know what I see when I look in them?"

"Shutters?"

"Not when they have that soft sparkle.  I see you with a child, a daughter.  She has a golden ponytail, and she’s talking a mile a minute.  Then, I walk in, and you say something like, ‘it’s about time you got home’.  And I, of course, rescue you, pick the little darling up in one arm, and grab you with the other."

"This appeals to you?" Glenn asked.

"This is my dream.  To come home to you every day."

"How come in this dream you don’t see me working outside the home?"

"I’ll tell you a secret about men.  No matter how evolved we become, no matter how much we want to see our wives succeed, we still want her there when we come home.  We go out, and plug away at a job for a boss we hate, day after day.  But, it’s all worth it."

"How do you know this?  You been married before?"

"My dad told me.  After 25 years, he’s still crazy about my mom.  That’s what I want, I guess.  What they have," Geoff said.

"They have boys.  I thought all men wanted boys, clones of themselves."

"You have a lot to learn about men.  I want half a dozen girls, the spitting image of you, right down to that temper."

She put her head on his chest, and sighed.  "Leigh.  My middle name."

"Glenda Leigh.  That would sound great with Duncan at the end of it."

"Let’s get something straight.  I may marry you, I may even bear that brat pack of yours, but I am not taking on the name of my oppressor," she said.

"Aw, you feeling oppressed again?"

"It’s a matter of principle.  Prentiss is my given name, my birth name.  Duncan, well, that would be my slave name."

"You’ve been hanging around with Jacqmel too much.  I don’t think I’m going to let you two play together any more," Geoff said.

"See what happens?  You bear a man’s child, and the next thing you know he’s choosing your friends for you."

"Chaucer," he said, and groaned.  "Mymiddle name."

She drew figure eights on his skin with her finger.  "It’s grand sounding, but not very human.  What was your mother thinking?  From now on tell people it’s Cow.  Say it like 007.  Cow, Geoffrey Cow.  And, they’ll laugh, and you’ll give them a fat lip."

"You sure do know how to win friends, and influence people."

"Yeah, it’s a gift."  She lay still listening to him breathe.  "I hope your parents are all right."

"They’re asleep in a hotel room in Jamaica.  Let’s go there on our honeymoon."

She lifted her head.  "Are you sure they got there?  You saw them leave?"

"I said good-bye to them before I came into town to find you."

"So, you didn’t really want me to write a note to your mom?"

"Not really.  But, you were so angry when you saw me, I had to come up with something to put you on the defensive.  You did have a baseball bat, remember."  He put his arm behind his neck.  "What I said about Mom was true, though.  And, it was rude of you to run off like that."

"You saw them get in the car, and leave the house?" Glenn asked.

"You still on that?  If you must know, I drove them to the airport."

"But, you didn’t see them get on the plane?"

"Technically, I can only vouch that they made it to the airport terminal an hour before take off.  Is it important?"

"I don’t know."  She gazed out the window.

"They said they’d call when they got settled.  There should be a message on the machine.  Let’s go find out."

"That’s not safe," Glenn said.

"You sound sure of that."

"I am."  She sat up.  "I’ve got to tell you something."

"Come here, and say it."  He put his hand on her arm.

"I’d better be on the other side of the car when I tell you this."  She pulled her shirt around her.  "Promise not to hit me."

"I’d never hit you."

"Geoff!"

"Okay, I promise, cross my heart.  I can tell by the look on your face, this is going to be bad."  He sat up, and stared at her.  "What have you done now?"

"Now remember, I didn’t have any choice.  I was forced into it.  And, I’m not supposed to tell you about this under any circumstances.  I could be executed for treason.  So, I’m really taking a big risk confiding in you.  Remember that."

"I’m really gonna hate this."  He rubbed his eyes with both fists.

"You know the night I came to your house?"  She drew her knees under her coat.  "I didn’t come for the exact reason that I said I did."

"I knew it.  I had a gut feeling," Geoff said.

"I came there," she said, and took a breath.  "To bug your house."

14

Glenn watched Geoff get angry, then calm.  He made a lunge for her, and she screamed.

"Sh," he said, pulling her to him.  "I’m not going to hurt you."

"You’re just saying that."

"No, otherwise I would have grabbed you when I was furious.  Now I’m just feeling kinda mean, but if you don’t fight me I’ll be able to control it."  He pulled her onto his lap.  His arms crisscrossed her, and rested on either side of her neck.  "I assume we’re talking about miniature microphones?"

"Remember the overnight case I had with me that night?  I put a microphone in the kitchen phone, you know, inside the mouthpiece.  I didn’t want to go upstairs, because I was afraid you’d catch me, so I only bugged the downstairs.  You know that thermostat on the wall of the family room?  There’s one in there.  And, one in the front room.  They think it’s important to keep an eye on your visitors."  She turned her head so she could see his face.  "You know that overhead light in the dining room?  Light fixtures are risky, because you’re counting on the light bulb not needing to be replaced, but that was the only place high enough."

Geoff stared past her, at the car door.  "Up high?"

"That one is a small video camera, with a fisheye lens."

"Camera."  Geoff closed his eyes.

Glenn decided not to apologize.  She laid her head on his shoulder, and focused on the upholstery of the car roof as she waited for what he was going to do to her.

"Anything else?"  He bent his knee, and she felt the strength of his thigh against her ribs.

"I really am just a photographer.  All I agreed to do was take pictures of the front and back of the house, but they needed pictures of the interior, to show the exits, all the doors and windows.  For protection.  Like I said.  The AFIB was afraid your family is the target of Arab extremists."

"So, why didn’t they tell us?  We would have cooperated."

"You’re asking me to explain government logic.  All I know is what they told me: if they had a blueprint of your house, inside and out, they could protect you without alarming you.  I agreed to take pictures, that’s all.  Then, at the last minute, they handed me this overnight case, and told me the rest."

"Wait a minute.  If my mom hadn’t invited you to stay... how did you know she was going to do that?"

"I didn’t, but there wasn’t time to formulate a complicated plan.  So, once she asked, I had to go for it.  That was supposed to be the end of it.  I don’t know how it came to this."  She rolled her eyes across the interior of the car, then closed them.  "I have to pee."

"What?"

"Let me out, I have to go to the bathroom."  She fastened two shirt buttons, and climbed over him, stepping into the frigid water with her bare feet.  "Come with me.  To keep watch.  I’m scared."

She pulled him around the edge of the concrete culvert to the dew-drenched grass.

"The dome light," she said.

"What?"

"The light, the light, the light."  She took his arms, and shook him.  "The dome light in the car.  There’s a camera in it."

Geoff glanced over his shoulder.  "Naw, couldn’t be."

"Think about it.  What if they let us get away?"

"We got away because we were smart."

She made a face.  "Smart?  Dressing me up like a cop?"

"You thought it was smart at the time."

"That’s when I thought we had outsmarted them.  What did that guard say?  Something about them having your car."

"But, he was lying," Geoff said.

"What if he wasn’t?"

Geoff thought about it.  "You mean they bugged my car, and let us get away?"

"Think about it."

"That would mean that they," his eyes met hers.  "Oh, Glenn, they’ve been watching us?"

She pulled the fabric of her shirt together at the neck.  "I’m not saying that.  Just suppose.  I was thinking.  When we get back in the car, I’ll check the dome light.  See if there’s a shadow."

"Can they really make cameras that small?"

"Look at the tiny ones they snake through your intestines to look for polyps.  No bigger than a pencil eraser."

"This is really creepy.  Okay, suppose there is a shadow?  What do we do?"

"We have to act like we’re not conscious of it," Glenn said.

"Fat chance.  We’re gonna have to ditch the car, no question," Geoff said.

"One more thing.  I was going to ask you this before, but I thought it was silly.  Did you do something with the tapes?  The bag of tapes.  I threw them in the back seat.  But, when we went back there they were gone.  I figured you put them in the trunk when I wasn’t looking.  You did, didn’t you?"

"I didn’t put them anywhere.  Didn’t we take them to the dorm with us?" he asked.

"No.  Tell me you’re joking.  You put them in the trunk," Glenn said.

"You think they took the tapes, and left a camera?  Man.  We have to go back inside."

"So, we go back.  Get dressed," she said.

"Our shoes are soaked.  How about we drive to my grandparents’, and put our things in the dryer?  Then, I’ll take Gramp’s car.  While they’re watching my car on the street, we’ll get away."

"And, go where?" Glenn asked.

"We’ll worry about that later."

They got in the front seat where he started the engine.

"I’ll get us some heat," he said.  "Our shoes and socks are never going to dry like this.  We’d better get to a clothes dryer."  He touched her face.  "Come here, I’ll warm you up."

Geoff’s hands went under her shirt, and pushed her down on the seat so she was staring at the ceiling.  He leaned toward her, and nuzzled her ear.

"See it?"

She grabbed two fistfuls of his hair, and positioned his face in front of hers.  He read her lips as she mouthed the words, "Too dark."

He pressed himself down on her.  He scooped her head in one hand.  The fingers of his other hand caught the door handle, and he opened it.  The light came on, and she looked at it through his hair.  He buried his face in her throat, and eased her head back.  His kisses made a path over her chin, and stopped at her lips.

"Let’s go someplace more comfortable," she said.

He sat up.  "Give me a minute."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and breathed out.  When he took hold of the steering wheel, he looked dazed.  Glenn fumbled into her clothes while he drove.  In two minutes he braked in front of a brick, two-story colonial.

He looked sad as he turned to her.  "Let’s go."

Colesville Road had swollen up over the last 50 years from a tree-lined suburban two-lane to a major six-lane highway.  Any other time of day there would have been a string of traffic, snarled and knotted, and frayed at the ends.  But, the sky was beginning to whiten, and there was a feeling of post-apocalyptic nothingness in the air.  It took Glenn a while to gather her shoes.  One of them was shoved under the front seat, and the laces were stuck on something.  She had to put her cheek on the carpet to jiggle it loose.  In the meantime, Geoff had gone to the front door, and returned.

"We’ll have to go in the back way," he said.  "What are you doing?"

"Checking your transmission fluid, and brake pads, Sir.  Need anything else while I’m under here?"  She pulled the shoe out, and handed it to him.  "Gimme a minute to make sure there’s nothing else hiding under here.  Nope."

Her hand passed over something flat and square.  She slipped it under her coat.  Geoff stood staring at his car.  She put her arm around him.

"We’ll get it back," she said.

He nodded, and made his way around the house.  In back, down three cement steps, was a white-washed wooden door with a rusted knob.

"It’s locked.  Hand me that file over there."

She picked the tool up off a pile of dirt.  "This?"

Geoff braced himself against the door, lifted the knob in his right hand, and inserted the point of the file between the wood doorframe and latch.  He sprung the lock, and went inside.

Glenn slid her bare feet across the basement floor.  It was as cold as it was outside, and twice as dark.  She felt for his jacket, found it, and clung to the cotton waistband.  She stubbed her toes, but kept hopping along until he stopped abruptly.  He snapped on a lamp in the laundry room.

"What if my shoes shrink?" she asked.

"I don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that to happen.  Better take off your jeans, they’re soaked at the cuffs."

He’d already stripped his off and put them in the machine.  She stared at his legs, long and muscular like a soccer player.  For an instant, she relived the experience of being captured between them.

"You just want to see my butt again," she said.

"Ain’t it the truth."

He helped her unzip her pants.  As he bent over, she leaned on him as she stepped out of them.  He turned on the dryer, and it began spinning.  The shoes went thump, the laces went click.  Thump-click, thump-click.

"Upstairs," he said.  "I’ll find a blanket and wrap you up."

"That’s making a terrible racket.  Won’t it wake your grandparents?"

"They’re on the other side of the house, two flights up.  Plus, they’re practically deaf."

They came up in the kitchen, crossed a dining area, and ended up in a living room.  Glenn saw a wood stove insert on the fireplace hearth and made a run for it, but it was cool to the touch.  Geoff got an afghan off a wing chair.  He wrapped it around her waist, and pulled her to him.

"This shouldn’t be turning me on, should it?"

"What shouldn’t?"

"Being chased, spied on, everything we’ve been through.  I’ll tell you a secret.  Ever since we found your friend floating in the tub, I’ve been more or less aroused.  At first I thought it was fear, you know."

"Itis ."

"Then I’ve discovered the ultimate aphrodisiac," Geoff said.

"You didn’t discover it.  Everybody knows about it.  We just didn’t tell you."

"Everybody?  Like who?  I want names."

"People who jump out of planes, race cars, bungee-jump.  Life-and-death professions like ambulance drivers, firemen, soldiers.  Why do you think they do it?  Because it turns them on."

"Then, I’m not a pervert.  I was afraid something was wrong with me.  After I knew there was a camera in the car, it made me so hot."

"That is sick," she said.

"Aw, come on.  You can’t say it didn’t get to you.  There’s something about the idea of being watched.  That any minute you might be caught, it heightens all your senses."

She ran her hand across his cheek.  "You need a shave.  And, I really do have to pee."

He waited for her outside the bathroom, and ambushed her when she came out.  He grabbed her from behind, and carried her to a couch.  She curled up on his lap.

"What are we going to do about your grandfather’s car?  Are we going to borrow it?  And, where are we going?"

"I’ve been thinking.  If we can make it back to Hagerstown, there are some places I know to hide out.  What about that phone call you were going to make?"

"I shouldn’t use your Gramp’s phone," she said.  "It’s not procedure.  You know, SOP.  I’m supposed to use a pay phone."

"Even in an emergency?"

"Is this an emergency?"

He patted her thigh.  "I think having your butt about shot off qualifies as an emergency."

A knot the size of a fist formed in her stomach.  "Okay," she said.  "I’ll do it."

Geoff brought the desk phone to her, and sat beside her, stroking her legs and arms.

The voice on the phone spoke in its flat tone, asking its impersonal questions.  Then, she was connected to another office, then another.

Finally, a human voice said, "Prentiss?  You’re lucky you caught me in.  Tell me about the family.  Are you with them?"

"They’re gone," she said.  "Out of town.  Some place tropical, to get their minds off the holidays."

"Like Havana?"

"Havana?  No, Jamaica."

"But, you got the pictures?"

"I delivered them to you," she said.

"I haven’t received them yet.  And, the brother?  Where is he?"

She paused.  "At home until after winter break, then he's going back to college."

"U of M in CP, you said?"

Initials, always with the initials.  Why don’t you say something original?  "That's right," she said.  "My part is over.  This is my last call."

There was a short silence on the other end.  "We do not concur.  You will remain activated."

"Excuse me?  I want out."

"You do have that option.  However."   There was a pause again. "We suggest you rethink."

"Haven’t you been keeping up with current events?  In the past few hours I’ve witnessed a kidnapping, and a murder, and come within inches of death myself."

"Elaborate on the details."

"Why are you acting like you don’t know about this?  I know you’re keeping close tabs on me."

"Listen to me, Prentiss.  If you want me to get to the bottom of this you have to tell me who’s been kidnapped, and who’s been murdered."

"Philip Bleetz, of course."

"The kidnap?"

"The murder.  Shane Singleton was kidnapped, well, not in the strict sense of the word.  But, I can’t go to his townhouse.  Listen, did you or did you not send people to arrest me?"

"I want you to listen very carefully, and do exactly as I tell you."

She chewed on her lip.  "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can, because you must.  I’m going to help you.  I want you to drop out for the next few hours.  Don’t contact anyone else.  Later today, at twelve hundred hours, you call this number directly.  I’ll have some answers by then."

"Make it quick, all right?"

"One more thing.  Singleton?  I think it would be prudent to stay away from him."

"No kidding."  She imagined the face on the end of the line, and the eyes were cold.  She wanted to say, ‘Touch one hair on his head, and you'll be sorry,’ but she wasn't in any position to say that.  "Anything else?"

"No," the voice said.  Then, the familiar, "Line terminated," and dead air.

Justin Knight pushed the end button on his intercom.  "Get me Cozzoli."

"Sir, agent Cozzoli is on night shift this week."

"I don’t care if she’s on Jupiter.  I want her in my office ASAP."

"Yes, Commander."

Justin sat back in his chair, made a pyramid with his fingers, and tapped it against his chin.  He punched the button again.

"Tina?  Bring me the Bleetz file.  And, while you’re at it we might as well have Singleton and Prentiss.  It’ll save you a trip.  And, have Personnel messenger over our employment file on Sadie Cozzoli."

"Already done, Sir."

"Of course it is."  The commander smiled.  "Thanks, Tina."

15

Glenn hung up the phone, and looked at Geoff.  "This could be over in a couple hours."

"What did he say?"

"To call back at noon."

"Let’s get you out of town while we have the chance.  It’s only a few hours, but a lot can happen in a few hours."  He put his arms around her.  "You can fall in love in a few hours."

Geoff wrote a note to his grandfather saying he borrowed the car, and would explain later.  Then, he wished him a happy holiday, and left the note on the dining table underneath the keys to the Granada.  They got their damp clothes from the dryer, and put them on.  Geoff lifted a key ring off a nail inside the back door, and led the way out the same way they came in.  A freestanding, two-car garage stood on the other end of the back lawn.  As they made for it Glenn shivered.

"I should have brought that blanket with me."

Geoff said, "If I know Gramp, there’s already one in the car."  He grappled with a wooden door that looked like it belonged on a barn, folding it up over their heads.  "Look," he said, springing the trunk.  "Road flares, wool blanket, first aid kit.  Gramp's the original boy scout."

Glenn wrapped the blanket around herself as she got in the passenger side.  Geoff backed the car out onto the dirt driveway, got out, closed the garage, and got back in.

"I think I’ll go west, toward my neck of the woods.  I want to get on my home turf."

"But, we can’t go to your house, remember."

"Uh-oh," he said.  They both looked at the ceiling at the same instant.  "Dome light."  He grabbed the cylinder, and popped it open.  "Luck seems to be on our side for a change.  Lie back, and get some Z's."

"Sleep?  As if."

"Give it a try."  Geoff headed away from Colesville Road, down a winding side street that ran parallel to the park.  "It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful sunrise."

The man on the other side of the desk looked more like a kindly professor than the Chief of Ops for Domestic Affairs.  His brown hair, thinning on top, was arranged in mounds, like earmuffs on either side of his head.  His eyes were a warm brown color set off by bushy eyebrows, and his cheeks had Shirley Temple dimples.  But, Sadie knew better than to underestimate Justin Knight, especially if she hoped to be sitting behind that desk some day.  She clasped her hands behind her, standing at ease in her sensible shoes.

"I’ve been going over your files."  Justin flipped through pages of a folder.  "Fill me in."

"I haven’t completed my written report.  What would you like to know?"

"I’d like to know why it is, Agent Cozzoli, that I find myself cleaning up after your mess?"

"Sir?"

Justin sat back in his chair.  "Since I was on the scene when the killing happened, the one who contacted the AFIB in the first place, this is technicallymy case.  I brought you in as a liaison with the military.  It was your idea to set up our own second surveillance, and I gave my grudging approval.  The next report I received from the field was that you had expanded your staff toinclude Prentiss and Singleton."

"The information we extracted from Phil Bleetz made it necessary."

"I was never convinced of that.  However, I gave permission, on the condition I received constant field reports.  So, why is it I got a call from Prentiss this morning?"

"Where is she?"  Sadie struggled to keep the tension out of her voice.

"You don’t know?  I expect my agents to know what’s going on,before it’s going on."

"Yes, Sir."

Justin folded his hands on the desk.  "I’m bringing her in for a final debriefing, and then we’re closing the case.  By the way, have you located the Bleetz photo?"

"I’ll talk to him about it today."

"Am I to understand you don’t know what’s happened?"

"I’ve been doing a lot of paperwork.  I left Pip in charge and, to tell you the truth, haven’t had the chance to check with him.  I accept responsibility for that, but he said he would notify me if anything happened.  Did I miss something?"

Justin Knight straightened his back.  "I’m waiting for confirmation, but, according to the media and Miss Prentiss, Philip Bleetz is dead."

"Agent Pippin and I will follow up right away.  I’ll have a report on your desk within the hour."

"Never mind.  I’m taking over.  I do want to see you at the beginning of your shift.  We’ll discuss your next assignment then."

"Yes, Sir."

"And, make no mistake, Agent.  Iwill get to the bottom of this.  You’re dismissed."

Sadie marched out.  Tina came in, and shut the door behind her.

"I have Agent Pippin on the line."

"Wait there."  Justin lifted the receiver.  "Agent Pippin, Commander Knight.  You are dismissed from all other cases until further notice as we previously discussed.  Understood?"

He hung up the phone, and nodded at Tina who went back to her desk.

Glenn was dreaming about Geoff.  But, he vanished.  She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to make him reappear.  A face began to materialize.  Not a face.  Eyebrows.  Sprouting and growing, reaching toward her like tentacles. I know who you are .  She lifted her head and rubbed her nose.

"Where are we?"

Geoff patted her on the knee.  "Frederick County.  You didn’t sleep very long."

"I can’t believe I slept at all."

"I guess you finally feel safe with me."

Glenn untangled the blanket from around her.  "Bet you wished you’d kept your nose out of my business now."

"Hey, who came to whose door first?" Geoff asked.

"That was business."

"Yeah, monkey business."

"Let’s take stock.  What stock?  I have nothing.  I left everything behind."

"Nothing that will come back to haunt us, I hope."

"My passport is in my purse, in my apartment.  I left my camera in your dorm.  I hate thinking of it with strangers.  I just know those guys are going to go through it with a fine-tooth comb.  They’ll find my film, my photo."

"What photo?"

"The one Shane gave me at Union Station.  I tucked it away in my camera bag after I changed clothes.  It’s still there."

"Along with the key to Phil’s apartment."

"Oh, that’s right.  They’ll know we were in there, for all the good it did us.  We don’t even have any of the tapes left."

"Do you still have Phil’s camera?" he asked.

"I think so.  It was in my pocket.  Let’s see.  Yep, oh, and this."

"What’s that?"

"Something I found under the seat of your car."  She turned the object over in her hands: a clear, flat square containing a golden circle.  "A compact disc.  Is it yours?"

"My car doesn’t have a CD player.  What would I be doing with one under my seat?  Let me see.  Oh, I know what this is.  It’s a photo CD."

"Photo?"

"You must have seen them.  They digitize photographs on a disc, and you can view them on your TV screen or computer terminal."

"What’s it doing here?" she asked.

"It’s not mine."  Geoff handed the jewel case back to her.  "That reminds me, I was meaning to ask you about that.  Where did Phil keep his computer?"

"Computers cost money, even small P.C.’s.  Phil would never waste money on one."

"He could have come into some money, or got it as a gift, like your fax machine."

"Even so.  He doesn’t have a computer, I’m telling you.  He’s a bit of a technophobe.  I even had to set his VCR for him.  Did you see one in his place?"

"That’s what puzzled me when I saw the manuals."

"What manuals?  What are you talking about?"

"Remember that mess in his studio?  Well, one of the booklets I picked up was a user’s manual for a Macintosh G3 PowerBook.  So, I looked for it, but it wasn’t in the room.  It gave me an odd feeling like when you see a spot on the wall where a picture used to hang.  Then, we went upstairs, and I forgot about it."

"So, if it’s Phil’s, what are we doing with it?"

Geoff shrugged.  "Maybe it fell under the seat when we sped away from Shane’s house."

"I put the bag in the back, hit the gas, the bag fell over, and it slid out.  No. We didn’t have it in the bag.  All we had were videotapes.  I packed them myself."

"That’s right.  How about when we got the tapes from his car?"

She frowned, and pulled at her lip.  "When I slid off the seat, the nylon tape case slid off with me.  It was open.  Now, if only there was a way to see what was on it."

"Let me think.  Who do I know?  I’ve got it.  I know exactly where we should be heading, and it’s just off Rt. 40.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.  It’s perfect.  If anybody has the equipment it’s her."

"She?  Where are we going?"

"Boonsboro."

"An old girlfriend?"

"Kinda."  Geoff squeezed Glenn's leg.  "Not mine.  But, back in high school she and Bobby sure did get along."

Sadie barely glanced up when Pip entered the room.  "Good, you’re here."

Pip was wearing a salmon-colored polo shirt with the collar turned up.  His slacks were olive khakis, and his shoes were tasseled loafers.  He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a print ad for men’s cologne, except for the holster on his belt.

"This had better be important."

She shot him a look.  "I’ll try not to take too much of your time."   Then, she truly saw him.  "I thought I was keeping you from grabbing forty winks.  Looks like you had other plans."

"Just brunch.  With a congressional aide."

"Business or pleasure?" Sadie asked.

"Get me out of here on time, and we’ll find out."

"When do you plan to get to bed?"

"Hopefully, at brunch."  He smiled.  "What’s the emergency?"

"We have to shut down operations."

"Right now?"

"There might not be a later, for either of us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let’s just say I don’t always go through official channels."

"We didn’t do anything without authorization.  I double-checked all the memos as per protocol."

"On the hotter issues sometimes I circumvented the Chief.  He’s a brilliant strategist, you know.  But, he just doesn’t see the big picture like we do."

"Who authorized the sanctions?"

"You know Captain Shaugnessy?" Sadie asked.

"By reputation.  Wasn’t he busted after Contra?"

"They demoted him to mollify Congress, had to have a fall guy.  Next thing you know Castro will be sitting in the oval office smoking cigars with the President."

"What is Shaugnessy doing approving?" Pip asked.

"Read your rule book.  I have to get authorization froma superior in the agency.  Captain Shaugnessy is my superior, and he’s in the agency."

"But, he was stripped of that jurisdiction."

"If the agency chooses to thank a hero for a lifetime of service by moth-balling him, that’s their mistake," Sadie said.

"But, what aboutyour years of service?  You can lose your job, benefits, pension," Pip said.

"We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen."  She put her hands on her hips.  "Unless you want to play it safe?"

Sadie folded her arms, the fingers of her right hand coming close to the handle of the revolver on her left hip.

"I just wished you told me about this."

"No need to know...before now."

Pip looked at her.  Her hair was loose around the neck, tucked behind her ears.  Her eyes shone fiercely.  She never looked more beautiful, or more formidable.  Maybe the two things were connected.  A woman like Sadie, who felt cornered, was completely dangerous, and completely enticing.  She took a deep breath.  Her breasts rose and fell under her tight black turtleneck.  Her elegant fingers moved nervously as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Are you on my side?"  She took a step toward him.

"How can I be?" he said, taking a step toward her.  "When you keep me in the dark?"

"This is your last chance to bail.  I won’t hold it against you if you do.  What I’m doing could soil your lily white hands."

"We’re partners.  You know what my answer has to be."

She relaxed her stance, and turned her back to him.  "After making some calls I’ve ascertained that our quarry stopped at a house on Colesville Road in Silver Spring.  I sent someone to call on them.  They have exchanged cars.  I have an APB out.  In the meantime, we have some tidying up to do."

"Is that the destroy pile?"

"Let’s do it."

Sadie handed Pip the black-and-white of Glenn Prentiss, and he looked at it for a second before handing it back.  The photograph disappeared into the teeth of the shredder.

"We’re going to pick her up?"

"That’s right."  Sadie looked at Pip’s enigmatic expression.  "We have to wait before we hear something from the field.  Want to do something to pass the time?"

"Like what?"

"I’m wound tighter than a spring."  She came around the shredder, and put her hand on his chest.  "This place used to be an apartment.  I’m going in the back to lie down.  You can join me, if you don’t think it’ll spoil your brunch."

"Is that an order?" he asked.

"That would be in violation of Criminal Code, Article 27, Section 464."

"Well, technically, it’s not sexual harassment unless it’s against my will.  Would you consider it insubordination if I turned you down?"

She put her put her mouth to his ear.  "I’d consider it stupid.  I’d have to think twice about working with anyone that stupid."

"I’m right behind you."

Pip watched her move down the hall.  As she turned into a room, he slipped his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a miniature tape recorder.  He pressed his thumb on the ‘off’ button, and buried the recorder in the basket of shredded papers.  Then, he pulled his gun from its holster, and went down the hall to do his duty.

16

The sunrise was beautiful.  Up ancient South Mountain they climbed, forking off to a rural route.  The valley stretched out like a picnic beneath them.

"That’s her house."  Geoff pointed to the cedar-sided rancher at the bottom of a driveway.  "I hope it’s not too early for a visit from a ghost."

The car dipped into the drive, and stopped in front of a two-car garage.  Glenn got out, and followed a brick walkway lined with rough-hewn railroad ties.  Geoff rang the bell, then stepped back, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.  A child with a wild mane of white hair threw the door.

Geoff opened the storm door.  "Is your Mommy home?"

"Mom-mee!"

A voice called, "Brianna," and a pretty young woman sailed across the living room.

"Lois?"

Glenn was expecting a rural peasant with a bovine face.  However, Lois was square-shouldered, and slender.  Her honey brown hair was feathered back from her face.  Her nose was upturned, and she didn’t wear any makeup.  It was a congenial face, except for the hazel eyes, which never seemed to blink. Nothing much gets past this girl .  Those eyes widened as she turned from Brianna.

"Geoff?"  Lois smiled with perfect teeth.  "I don’t believe it.  Get in here."

The house smelled like home cooking.  Glenn followed Geoff into a room with a lofted ceiling.  A fireplace separated that room from one like it on the other side.  There was the head of a deer mounted over the fireplace, with a Christmas tree light clamped to its nose.

Brianna said, "Dat’s Wudolph.  His nose lights up."

Geoff said, "Lois, let me introduce my friend Glenn."

"Glenn.  That’s an unusual name," Lois said.

"It’s nice to meet you," Glenn said.

"I’m Lois, and Brianna you’ve already met.  She’s my middle child."

Glenn felt a tug on her hand, and looked down.

"See my tree," Brianna said.

Geoff said, "I’ll explain things to Lois, you go on."

Glenn had never liked children.  They were too unpredictable, and needy.  And, so very small.

"You’re in some kind of trouble?" Lois asked.

Glenn said, "I don’t think it’s wise to involve strangers in all this."

"She’s not a stranger," Geoff said.  "This is Lois, Superman’s girlfriend."

Lois laughed.  "I haven’t heard that in years.  Superman was Geoff’s brother Bobby."  Her hand came up to her mouth.  "I’m sorry."

"That’s okay," Geoff said.  "We got the flower arrangement.  It was very sweet of you to send it."

"Your mom wrote the nicest ‘thank you’ note.  I have it around here somewhere.  She’s the dearest person.  How is she holding up?" Lois asked.  "I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child."

"It’s been hard, but you know my parents, solid as granite.  Hey, I heard you got married, and had a baby," Geoff said.

"Three babies.  Well, you know me, can’t do anything halfway.  My youngest, Charlayne, is at her Grammy’s house, and my oldest, Daneé is in school.  In fact, I’m getting ready to take cupcakes to her class.  They’re having a Christmas party.  I have to leave in a few minutes, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you need."

Glenn said, "That’s way too much trouble."

Lois frowned.  "You must be from the city.  Haven’t you heard?  All us Smallville hicks stick together."  Lois put her arm around Geoff.  "Now, tell me what you need."

"You don’t, by chance have a computer, do you?  Preferably, a Macintosh."

"Sure, downstairs.  Mostly we use it to play video games, but it’s got a good bit of memory, and—"

"A CD ROM drive, I hope?"

"Of course.  Can’t play the latest games without all the accessories.  Is that what you need?"

Glenn chewed her lip.  She didn’t have a good feeling about involving even more innocent bystanders in this madness.  There had to be a better way.  As Geoff hit the highlights with Lois, Glenn paced nervously around the room, rearranging the Christmas cards that crowded the fireplace mantle.  There were cartoon reindeer, gold embossed Madonna's, Wise Men riding camels under sapphire skies.  There were Norman Rockwell families, and children with velvet eyes and striped mittens.  Glenn felt a sense of melancholy.  It was probably lack of sleep.

"Ma-ma, see my tree."  Brianna put her pudgy hands on the backs of Glenn's legs, and pushed.

The tree was eight feet tall—a Scotch pine with a trunk like a telephone pole.  Brianna’s twinkling blue eyes gazed up at the angel on top.

"I helped decorate it."

"It’s absolutely beautiful.  You did a wonderful job."

"Yeah," Brianna said, then made Glenn sit in a chair beside the tree. "Know what?  Santy Claus is coming to my house."

"Looks like he’s already been here.  You have a lot of presents under there."

"Those aren’t from Santy Claus.  Those are for other people.  Here."  Brianna dove into a stack of red foil.  "Here," she said, handing a package to Glenn.  "This is for you."

"You don’t even know me."

"What’s your name?"

"Glenn."

Brianna laughed.  "Dat’s a boy’s name.  You’re agu-ril .  Like Mommy and me.  You’re silly."  She leaned her elbow on Glenn’s leg, pointed to a spot, and pretended to read.  "Dis-is-for-Glenn.  See?  Will you put my shoes on me?"

Glenn nodded, and Brianna shot out of the room.  Geoff was sitting on a love seat across a coffee table from Lois.

"We have to go," Glenn said.

Geoff looked at her.  "What?"

She held the gift out on her palm.  "This belongs to you, Lois."

"Did Brianna give that to you?" Lois asked.  "I had the kids make gifts to hand out to the less fortunate.  It’s to help remind them that Christmas is for everybody.  Kids get quite selfish, if you let them.  Later tonight, we’ll take them over to the Children’s Home."

"Why me?" Glenn asked.

"Guess that’s Brianna’s way of saying you’re her friend.  You took time to admire her tree.  You’d be surprised how many grown-ups think they’re too important for that."

"She didn’t really give me any choice."

Lois laughed.  "I know.  But, Brianna likes to reward obedience."

"Geoff, we can’t put these good people in danger."  Glenn looked at the package in her hand.  "It isn’t right."

"See," Geoff said.  "She doesn’t mind riskingmy life."

Brianna barreled back into the room, and threw a tiny pair of sneakers on the floor.  Glenn sat on the floor, put the small shoes on Brianna’s feet, and tied the laces.

"I’m going to school," Brianna said.  "With cupcakes."

Lois said, "We really have to go.  Stay as long as you like.  There’s a fresh pot of coffee."

Glenn looked up from the floor.  "Do you have anything else to drink?  You know, stronger?"

"Stronger?" Lois asked.

"Where’s your liquor cabinet?" Glenn said.

"Liquor." Lois laughed.  "We don’t drink.  We’re Baptists."

Glenn threw an embarrassed look at Geoff.  "Thanks for letting me make a fool of myself."

"You don’t have to thank me.  I enjoyed it."

Lois said,  "Help yourself to whatever you can find.  What about a vehicle?"

"I have my grandfather’s car, but I’m afraid it might be spotted."

"Take mine.  Which do you prefer, the Benz or the truck?"

Geoff looked at Glenn, and shrugged.  "The truck would be fine.  Can we put our car in the garage for a while?"

"I’m sure we can make room for it."

"Hey, Glenn, when do you have to make your phone call?"

"Noon."

"Phone call?" Lois asked.  "Well, that settles it.  The Benz has a cellular phone."

"Cellular?  I wonder if they’re harder to trace than a regular phone line?" Glenn said.

"Don’t ask me, that’s your specialty," Geoff said.

Lois handed them the keys.  "I’ll take the truck, but I have to leave right now.  Think about it, talk about it.  Do what you gotta do."

Glenn stood up.  "Thank you so much.  I don’t know how I can ever repay you."

"Just return my car in one piece."

"You got it."

Geoff helped Lois on with her coat, and she hugged him.  "It’s good to see you again.  Don’t be such a stranger.  What’s your family doing for Christmas?"

"Mom and Dad are in Jamaica.  It’s too painful for them to have Christmas at home this year."

"So, you’re alone?" Lois asked.  "Not anymore."  She hugged him again.

Geoff held her, and closed his eyes.  "You’re still taking in strays?"

"Some things never change."  Brianna wrapped herself around her mother’s leg.  "Get your coat, Brianna.  I’ll be seeing you, Glenn.  I don’t know what your plans are for Christmas, but I hope you’ll stop by.  It would mean a lot to Brianna."

Glenn looked at the child struggling into a furry pink coat.  "Thank you for the gift Brianna.  I’ll treasure it."

Brianna said, "Okay," and zigzagged across the kitchen, and out the door.

Lois reached for a Tupperware container.  "I hope everything works out for you."

"Let me," Geoff said.  "I’d be proud to carry your cupcakes."

Lois called, "Washer and dryer are out here on the mud porch.  You might want to do something about your clothes.  You look like something the dog dug up."

It was the last thing Lois said before leaving, and Glenn wondered why she wasn’t insulted by it.  Probably because it was true.  She looked at the gift in her hand, and for a moment imagined she saw the tag with her name on it:For Glenn, from her friend, Brianna.

Sadie Cozzoli was never more demanding.  Pip had been warned.  But, nothing prepared him for this.  Her assault was vicious, depraved, and the most erotic experience of his life.  She toyed with him like a cat with a mouse before pouncing, punishing him, making him pay for eluding her for so long. Afterward, she sat up, pulled the sheet over her knees, and lit a cigarette.  She blew a slow stream of smoke at the ceiling.

"I didn’t know you smoked," Pip said.

"Only on occasion."  Her voice sounded chesty and rough.

"Is this an occasion?"  Pip rolled on his side and looked at her.  He put his hand on her abdomen.  "I hate to think of those pink little lungs getting all smudged."

She looked sideways at him.  "Do I look worried?"

He sat up, and ruffled his hair with his hands.  "All right, enough of the love talk."

Sadie closed her eyes, and inhaled again.  She flicked ash on the floor, and stubbed the butt out on the headboard.  "Look at that," she said. "Only half a cigarette.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I don’t understand."

"See, the cigarette is halfun smoked.  You only gave me half a cigarette’s worth of pleasure.  This is a Kool menthol.  If I was used up, there’d be nothing left, but the filter.  There’s a lot left here, Pip.  Makes me think you weren’t trying.  Maybe you didn’t have your heart in it."

"That’s not true.  I thoroughly enjoyed you," he said.

"But, we’re not talking about you, are we?  I gave it all I’ve got.  But, I’m afraid you were holding out on me.  Is it because I initiated it?  Did that emasculate you?"

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"Lucky for you, I’m going to give you another chance."  She held the crushed cigarette up.  "But, you’re going to have to do better next time.  Don’t look so worried.  All you have to do is make love like your life depended on it."

"I’m not sure I can," Pip said.  "Just yet."

There was a small smile on Sadie’s lips.  "You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn.  Remember, we’re not talking about you.  We’re talking about me."  She reclined on a pillow, tucked an arm behind her head, and bent one of her knees.  "I’ll talk you through it this time."

"Do you mind if I, at least, get something to quench my thirst?"

She dangled her fingers between her breasts.  "Anything that helps your performance."

Pip scooted to the edge of the bed, and glanced at his gun lying on the side table.  It would be so easy.  One shot to the head, close range.  But, that wasn’t his decision.  He didn’t go around sanctioning people.  Those were her methods, not his.  He looked at her.  No doubt about it, she was beautiful, and full of poison, like an exotic tropical flower.

"Can I get you something?" he asked.

"Bring back the bottle.  I have a few tricks I could teach you with a cold beverage bottle."

"Teach me?"  He grinned.  "A cold bottle?"

She wet her lips, and traced a line on her thigh with her finger, from her knee to her hip.  She fixed a look on him of such sensuality he was momentarily frozen.

"Hurry up, lover boy.  Or I may have to get started without you."

She made a guttural noise in her throat that was part laugh, part growl.  That predatory sound stuffed itself into Pip’s ears, and burrowed under his skin.  He either loved it or hated it, he wasn’t sure which.  The only thing he was sure about was his duty to defend and protect the Constitution of the United States.  Another voice came to him.  The voice of his Chief reminding him,‘by whatever means necessary’ .  Right now, that meant keeping her here, enduring her sexual advances, and laying body and soul on the line, whatever the cost to him.  It was either the most sordid day of his career, or the most interesting.  Again, he wasn’t sure.

17

Glenn sat at the kitchen counter wearing a terrycloth housecoat.  She sipped sweetened coffee out of the mug she held in her hands like a squirrel.  Geoff came in fresh from the shower, smelling flowery and feminine, like scented bath gel.  His hair was wrapped in a green bath towel, and he was wearing a plaid robe that hit him above the knee.

"Boy, did I need that."  He held out a bruised arm.  "Where’s my coffee?"

"In the microwave."

Glenn crossed her leg at the knee, and a furry slipper dangled from her foot.  He looked at it, and smiled.

"Very chic."

"Ain’t it, though.  All I need is a couple of hair curlers."

"At home with the Duncans."

"This is not my home," she said.  "And, I am not a Duncan."

"Yet," he said.

"If I give you a couple bucks will you buy yourself a new song?  This tune’s getting monotonous."

"Sorry.  But, you look so adorable with fur on your feet.  You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you anywhere near a state of relaxation."

"There is something therapeutic about this place.  I feel safe.  What’s with these people anyway?  How do you know them?"

"We went to rival high schools."  Geoff took a pint of amaretto flavored creamer out of the refrigerator, and opened the wedge-shaped mouth.  "We were at a football game.  Our team, Hagerstown Hubs, and her team, Boonsboro Warriors, were both undefeated.  So, it was a big game."

"If you say so," she said.

"You don’t follow football?  Just think of the Civil War played with helmets, and shoulder pads."

"No, that’s not helping."

"Anyway, these girls sat behind us.  Boonsboro fans, in enemy territory.  They started cheering the Warriors, and booing the Hubs.  Bobby thought it was so cute.  He turned around, and Lois said something mature like, ‘Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer’.  And, he said, ‘Who let you out of your cage?’  She pulled the hood of his sweatshirt back, and dumped her soft drink down his neck."

"What did he do?"

"Lois ran off with Bobby right after her—you could hear her squealing all over the stadium.  I didn’t see either of them again until after the game.  Bobby was hopelessly smitten.  I swear, you never saw a guy so much in love."

"It’s always love at first sight with you Duncan boys, isn’t it?" Glenn said.  "What happened?"

"They were both very passionate personalities.  Fought all the time.  He was adamant about joining the Marines, and had their whole life mapped out.  It seemed they might make a go of it.  Then, Bobby signed up, and Lois broke it off with him.  They were so crazy about each other.  He thought sure Lois would come around.  She was just as sure her ultimatum would keep him home."

"I wish he’d listened to her," Glenn said.

"I never understood what drove him.  Anyway, they were both still waiting for the other one to apologize when Bobby went to boot camp.  Bobby wrote her from basic training, and they patched things up enough to be friends.  I guess things turned out for the best."

"You probably cheered at the end of Romeo and Juliet, too," Glenn said.

"What if they’d stayed together?  What if Brianna was his kid?  Lois would be a young widow with three daughters to raise on her own."

"But, they would have had those years together.  And, your folks would have had his grandkids."

"Romantic notion.  What’s with you, Prentiss?  Going soft?"

"Everybody loves a love story.  I’m sorry for them, that they lost it."

She looked at Geoff.  He looked like Gandhi: a tall, pale version of Gandhi if he hadn’t slept for two days.  He headed for the mud porch.

"The clothes must be about dry by now," he said.

"Let me get you something to eat.  They must have something.  Ooh, look. Cinnamon buns.  You, sit down before you fall over."  She guided him to a barstool.  "Let me take care of you for a change."

"Why does that scare me?"

"Don’t tell me you don’t trust me?  You need to lie down.  I’ll wake you up in a couple hours."

"Ah, so you’re still trying to get me into bed with you."

"I won’t be joining you."

"What about the disc?  Let’s check it out first."

"It’s not going anywhere.  After you wake up, we’ll go fire up the old computer."

Glenn took off his towel, and stood behind him drying his hair.  Then, she led him into the bedroom where he sat down.  She took a brush off the cherry wood bureau and knelt behind him, combing the bristles through his hair.  She caught the cold mass in her hand, bunched it together, and secured it with a rubber band.  Then, she used the towel to absorb droplets from the end of the ponytail.

Geoff took her hand, and kissed the open palm.  "I ought to be doing this for you."

"I have no hair," Glenn said.

"What’s up with that?  Why did you cut it so short?"  Geoff touched the fringe of hair that duck-tailed behind her ear.

"An act of desperation and spite.  You wouldn’t understand."

"You’d be surprised what I understand."  He put his large hands on her waist, his fingertips touching at the small of her back.

"What would you know about self-destructive impulses?"

"I’m here with you."  His words were slow, and slurred as he pressed his cheek against her midsection.  "If that isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is."

"Go to sleep," she said into his ear, and kissed him on the neck.

He collapsed backward with his eyes closed.  He folded his hands on his chest like a dead man in a coffin.  His breathing became deep and regular almost immediately.

Glenn went downstairs to a half-finished rec room.  A computer game was already running.  She ejected it, and loaded the Bleetz disc.  It contained double exposures of prominent people engaged in compromising positions.  No doubt fraudulent.  The photograph of Bobby was on it, as was ‘The Conspiracy’, Phil’s masterpiece.  She wasn’t all that surprised to see it with her own eyes, just a little disappointed.  Phil had managed to find a way to use her again.  She felt a little less sad that he was dead.  In fact, as she went back upstairs, she hoped he was rotting in hell.

The girls’ room had bedspreads and curtains with patterns of cartoon mermaids and other animated characters, which matched the picture books on the floor.  A small table was set for a tea party, where stuffed animals and dolls waited for guests to arrive.  Glenn strolled back to the main part of the house, and lounged on the couch finishing her coffee.  Then, she prowled the kitchen, opening and closing the doors in the pantry.  On the refrigerator she found a school picture of a seven-year old with a wide smile, and intelligent eyes.  That must be the oldest girl.  And, the Polaroid of the toddler with thin wisps of blond hair and a sweet expression must be the youngest.  There was a cabinet with aFar Side calendar on it, and a pad with the beginnings of a grocery list.  A drawer next to the fridge held utensils, and the one next to it had odds and ends.  In here Glenn found a checkbook.  You could tell a lot about a person by how she spent her money.

Glenn discovered it was a one-income family, with a healthy paycheck coming in twice a month.  There were the usual purchases for food, gas, clothing, mortgage, utilities, and a big chunk to a Baptist church.  What would someone think of Glenn’s checkbook?  Deposits were sporadic and small, most purchases related to photography supplies.

In the living room was a TV console with a cable box, and a stereo set-up.  The rack of CDs and tapes held an eclectic musical mixture of everything from country, to heavy metal, to Broadway show tunes.  Glenn got the CD out of her robe pocket, and looked at it.  Then, she went to the wooden rack next to the television, and fit it in between Disney’sBeauty and the Beast and Billy Ray Cyrus’sAchy-Breaky Heart .  She nodded, and refilled her coffee mug.

She spent the next hour listening to Christmas tunes on the radio, and staring out the sliding glass door that overlooked the valley.  The Blue Ridge Mountains were bluish, as advertised.  The sky was white, etched with thin trails of smoke rising from chimneys.  Flocks of foul soared with purpose, destination south.

Shortly after 10:30, Glenn returned to the bedroom.  Geoff’s head was turned to the side and one of his hands was raised beside his face.  He looked impossibly childlike.  The other hand was on his stomach, and the robe was opened over his leg.  It was the first thing she touched as she neared the bed.  His breathing pattern changed, and his fingers twitched.  She put one knee on the bed, and ran her fingers across his leg.

"Geoff?  Time to get up."

Geoff grabbed her robe, and pulled her on top of him.  "You’re still here," he said, nuzzling her neck.

She rolled onto the bed.  "I thought about running away.  It would have been so easy."

"So, why didn’t you?"

"Just waiting for my clothes to dry."

"As they tumble over and over again, becoming tangled in the legs and sleeves of one another."

"Besides, you know where I live."

"Afraid I’d come knocking on your door again?" he asked.

"Something like that."

"Would you let me in?  Come on, babe, let me in."

She looked into his face.  "I wish I could have let you sleep longer."

"I’m ready to be woke up."  He rolled on top of her, and raised up on his elbows.  "You know us college men.  We don’t need much sleep."  He pinned both her legs under one of his.  "We’re used to long hours of cramming, far into the night."

"As you tumble over and over again, becoming tangled in the legs and arms of one another?"

Glenn responded to his touch.  It was a reflex, like squinting against the light.  To resist might cause injury to herself.  She closed her eyes, and let the heat overtake her.  She slipped her hand inside his robe, and stroked his back along the sinew connecting hipbone to shoulder.

"Where’s your bandage?"

"Took it off in the shower."

"We have to go."

"Not now."

"Don’t whine," Glenn said.  "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but in about one hour the Feds could have me in the clear.  I’m getting restless."

"It’s a good thing I’m here.  I’ve got a great cure for restlessness."

Their kisses became more passionate, as their hands explored each other.  Glenn felt him loosen the sash of her robe, and she reached for his hands.

"Wait," she whispered.

"Shut up."  He stroked the skin under her robe.

"Oh, don’t do that."

"I don’t care what you say, I’m not listening to you any more."  He put his mouth over hers.

"Please.  Just one minute.  We have to talk."

"Oh, no."  He pulled back, and looked at her.  "Why do you keep doing this to me?  What did I ever do to you to make you hate me this much?"

"No, no, that’s not it.  I just can’t keep making this same mistake over and over again."

"Mistake?  I know I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I have got to ask.  What mistake are you talking about?"

"You’re the one who keeps talking about love and marriage, and all that jazz.  How can I defend myself against that?"

"Now she’s talking about self-defense."  He fell over on his back, and covered his face with his hands.  "I give up.  This is a woman who I’ve professed to love until my dying day.  But, that’s not good enough.  She needs more than that.  She needs more than eternal love and commitment."

"Yeah, and you’re full of crap.  Just stop talking to yourself for a minute, and talk to me."

"Sure.  Why not?  What’s the topic of discussion for today: politics, religion, or how about the price of tea in China?"

"I’ll overlook the sarcasm because I realize this has been very stressful for you."

"So, now we’re calling my affection for you ‘stress’.  Very complimentary."

"You seem to forget, I’ve played this scene before.  The easiest thing in the world for me right now would be to shut my eyes, and open my heart.  I mean, sure, on the surface you seem to be an entirely different type of man, but I did learn a lesson from my time with Phil Bleetz."

"Bleetz!  Is that what this is all about?  Man, that is so unfair."

"Probably.  But, although you and he may be two different men, this is the same little old me in the middle.  I can’t ignore that fact, and neither should you.  Let’s face it, when it comes to affairs of the heart, I have ridiculously poor judgment."

"Can’t argue with you there."  He propped himself up on his elbows.  "But, come on.  How can you compare that relationship to what we have?  Wake up, and smell the half-caf mocha latte."

"The comparisons are surprisingly similar.  Look at my track record.  I have a habit of getting swept up in the adventure of romance, so much so I find it hard to distinguish my real emotions for the individualman from theevent ."

"You know, if you’re trying to keep from turning me on you should probably stop using words like ‘adventure’ and ‘event’.  That just does funny things to the perverted part of my imagination, and makes it even more difficult to keep my hands off you."

She sat up, and tightened her belt.  "Thishas been an adventure.  But, when the danger is over, you’re not liable to find me so fascinating.  You’re going to want to move on to your next adventure."

"Don’t judge me by your standards.  Do you really think I’m that shallow?"

"I think your main attraction to me is based on a false image of what you think being with me would be like."

"Certainly not boring.  Regardless of the circumstances, you could never be boring."

Glenn looked into his face, astounded again by the composition of cheekbone, jaw line and granite gray eyes, softened by shaven skin the texture of silk and liquid lips.

"Oh, my dear, I swear to you, if we get out of this alive…"

"What if?" Geoff asked.

"Let’s just say, I’ll owe you one."

"You owe me two, at least.  No, make that three."  He held up three fingers.  "And, I’m letting you off easy at that."

"Not that you’re counting, or anything."  She smiled.  "Gee, I hope I’m worth it."

Geoff took her hands in his.  "Lucky for you my mom raised me to be a gentleman.  However, if you don’t get your clothes right this minute, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions."

"Yeah, sure, like you’re not going to be picturing me naked anyway."  She put her arms around his neck.  "Sometimes I wish you weren’t so darned decent."

"Hey, there’s no need to get vicious with the name-calling."  He tightened his grip around her waist.  "By the way, in case there was any doubt in your mind, I do think you’re worth waiting for and, yes, I am, at this very moment, picturing you naked."

"Oh, yeah, how do I look?"

He chuckled.  "Like trouble.  Big, big trouble."

They put together some food in a paper sack, and put it in the back of black, E class Mercedes Benz.  They got dressed, and put on their jackets, and she put the red foil present in her pocket.

Geoff was cautious with the vehicle at first, but by the time they reached Downsville Pike he was comfortable behind the wheel.  He selected a radio station, which came in and out of range through the rolling peaks and valleys.  The DJ highlighted local events, mostly Christmas musicals in schools and churches.  All would be happening on schedule as long as, ‘God is willin’ and the creek don’t rise’, which seemed a possibility.  The area had been saturated with rain.  In fact, by Halloween, officials had declared an end to a decade-long drought.  Making matters worse was an important celestial phenomenon.  The moon was full, and closer to the earth by several thousand meters, making for spectacular viewing, and high tides.

Glenn listened to the chatter, and ‘all hits all the time’ as the miles rolled by.  The journey followed a jigsaw of roads along the West Virginia border.  When the river hooked east, they wove around past Sandy Hook to Weverton, a historic canal town nestled in a crook of the Potomac.  As the river flexed, Weverton dropped out of sight and Harper's Ferry bulged up at the joining of the Potomac and the Shenandoah Rivers.  They went through Keedysville, along Sharpsburg Pike to the memorial of the Civil War, Antietam Battlefield.  Glenn had never taken the walking tour of Bloody Lane.  Whenever possible, she preferred to avoid battlefields.

"Pull over here," she said.  "Let’s picnic here by this pasture.  I’ve never been so close to cows before."

He pulled over on the shoulder of Route 67, and parked near the entrance of a farm lane.  "You like cows?"

"I’m not sure.  Look at them, all huddled together under that one little tree.  Like they’re trying to get out of the rain.  Amazing."

"Excuse me if I don’t turn somersaults."

"What keeps them from running away?"

"That fence there."

"That little bitty wire?  Oh, they could bust through that.  You can barely see it.  Or, is it electric?"

"Maybe you want to go touch it, just to see?  Soon as the rain slows down."

"Cows are so cool."

"If you say so."  He reached into the back seat, and grabbed the sack.  "Can you tear yourself away?"

"I’m sorry, but cows have always been like dinosaurs to me.  I believe they exist, I’ve seen pictures.  It’s just not quite real until you see them with your own eyes."

"Dinosaurs?  But, you’ve eaten hamburgers, and worn leather shoes, right?  When was the last time you tasted a brontosaurus steak?"

"Never.  However, I did hear that stegosaurus-skin miniskirts are all the rage in Paris this year."

He grinned at her.  "What I have is a little less exotic.  How does salami and cheese strike you?"

"It strikes me that you’re going to make some woman a wonderful wife one day."

Agent Eric Pippin was in the midst of his own private war.  It hadn’t taken long to realize that having sex with Sadie Cozzoli was like playing Russian roulette: unending moments of blinding panic interrupted by episodes of extraordinary bliss.

"I’m going to eat you alive, and spit out the bones," she had growled.

And, then they were off and running again.  When Pip finally elbowed up from the foot of the bed, he was consoled by the fact that Sadie looked every bit as exhausted as he felt.  Her dark hair fanned out on the pillow where she collapsed, and beads of sweat glistened on her neck.  She seemed so still, so harmless, Pip felt a protective impulse toward her.  In a different time, a different place, he could see himself indulging her every erotic fantasy.

"Do you do this with all your partners?" he asked.

"Did you meet my last partner?  Had a fondness for pork rinds.  A night never went by without him chowing down on some kind of cholesterol sandwich.  He was a coronary waiting to happen."

"So, did you sleep with him?"

"Please.  It would have killed him."

"Seems I heard he died on duty, of a heart attack," Pip said.

She looked out the corner of her eye.  "Why would I sleep with him?"

"Because it’s there, same reason you climb a mountain."

"He was a mountain."  She grinned.  "All right, officer, I confess.  I climbed that mountain every night, until that fateful day.  He grabbed his chest, fell over, and died right there on that very spot."

"And, then what?  You didn’t let a little thing like that stop you."

"I draw the line at necrophilia," Sadie said.

"Never underestimate the effects of rigor mortis.  A coroner told me that once."

She laughed coarsely.  "That’s the most perverse thing I ever heard."

"Want a cigarette?" Pip asked.

"No, thanks.  I’m already smoking."  She closed her eyes.  "I’m going to grab some shut-eye while I wait for my phone call."  She looked at the ceiling.  "Pip, dear, this is above and beyond the call of duty.  I can’tmake you stay, of course."

"But, you want me to?"  He had that feeling again, that she was soft and sweet, and she needed him.  "Of course, I’ll stay."

"I won’t forget this."

She pulled the sheet over her, and turned away from him.  Her lithe body made a hard ripple under the covers.  Pip stared at it for a while, feeling guilty.  The Chief must be wrong.  He’d never seen this side of Sadie Cozzoli.  If he had, he would be as sure as Pip almost was.  She was sly, shrewd, all the things that made top flight job performance: the thoroughness of a heart surgeon combined with the courage of a Green Beret.  The Chief should be promoting her, not looking for evidence to dismiss her from the agency.  He would, if he knew her better, if he knew her like Pip knew her.

At noon, Glenn clicked off the country station, and picked the phone up from the console.  She put the call through, keeping her eyes on Geoff.  He was more nervous than she was, and somehow that comforted her.

The voice asked, "Do you know who this is?"

"The man I spoke to before?"

"Do you know my name?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"That’s SOP.  I’m going to tell you my name so you know who I am, and so you know you can trust me.  Affirmative?"

"Affirmative."

"Commander Justin Knight, Chief of Domestic Operations for the Central Intelligence Agency."

"CIA?  No, you’re with the AFIB."

"There are two agencies involved in the Duncan case.  The AFIB is investigative.  We’re the ones who cleared you of any complicity in the death of Robert Duncan, and will now be bringing you in for debriefing."

Glenn looked into Geoff’s eyes.  "Affirmative."

"Without divulging too much of your location, I want you to tell me what district you’re in."

"Excuse me?"

"What county are you in?"

"Right now?  Washington, I think."

"How about one of our State Parks?" Justin Knight said.  "They’re easy to find, just follow the signs.  Have you noticed any near you?"

"Which State Park is near me?"  She looked at Geoff.

Geoff whispered, "Gathland."

"Gathland," she said into the phone.

"In Gapland, good.  Someone will meet you at the Arch," Justin said.

"The Arch?"  Glenn asked.  "When?"

"You start on your way, and we’ll start on ours."

"How will I know you?" Glenn asked.

"We know you.  Line terminated."

18

The steel bracelet closed around his wrist.  Pip sprang up, and opened his eyes.  The other side of the handcuff was tethered to the headboard through a half-moon in the bedpost.  He tugged on it, angry and embarrassed for getting caught with his pants down.  He pulled on the cuff until the pain made him feel chastened.  Sadie breezed into the room wearing nothing but a smile.

"Ah, you’re up."  She sat at the foot of the bed.  "I couldn’t very well let you get away.  You’re the man I’ve been looking for all my life.  A G-man who can find my G-spot."  She laughed.

"Is this some sort of bondage thing?"

"I’ve never understood that.  I like it when things are way out of control."

"So, explain the arm jewelry."

"Are you pretending you don’t understand?" she asked.

"Idon’t understand.  I thought we were getting to know one another."

"I know you, Pip, all too well.  Only one thing I don’t know: where you put the tape recorder."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Ah, you weary me.  When I pressed my body close to yours," she said.

"Which time?"

"Humor: an interesting choice.  The time when I propositioned you.  Did you think I was just feeling you up?  Are you at all attracted to me?  Truth or dare, Pippin.  Was that a tape recorder in your pocket, or were you really glad to see me?"

Pip’s gun was on the side table where he’d left it.  He measured the distance with his eyes, and was sure he could reach it.  But, was he fast enough?

"Why would I have a tape recorder?"

"That is an incorrect answer.  No points, but there’s always the bonus round.  I gave you a chance to tell the truth."  Sadie circled the bed.  "Ready for the dare?"

Pip made a leap for it.  His slender body dove across the sheets, his left hand grabbed the gun, and he rolled onto his side.

"Now," he said, regaining a sitting position.  "It’s my turn to ask the questions.  He thumbed off the safety, and took aim between her moist doe eyes.  "Now, where is the key to these cuffs?"

Glenn and Geoff had briefly returned to Boonsboro to return the Benz to Lois’s garage.  They exchanged it for Gramp’s silver Pontiac, and headed up Route 67 to Gapland State Park.

The War Corespondent’s Arch was a structure of conflicting architectures stuck by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.  A reporter, who went by the pen name Gath, had financed it in the nineteenth century.  So great was his admiration for the heroes who brought back stories from the front lines of the Civil War that he erected a monument to them.  It seemed fitting to Glenn that her journey should end here.  Not that she qualified as a war correspondent, but she had dabbled in it.  If the men represented by the names etched in stone had gone through what she had during her foray into the field, they had earned their place on the Arch.

"I wonder why they do it.  Risk their lives like that," Geoff said.

"War is the Super Bowl of journalism.  Going and coming back alive qualifies you to jump ahead in the profession.  Courage is its own reward."

"That’s the cynical version.  What’s the real story?"

Glenn looked out the window of the car.  "I’m not a philosopher, but to me, it isn’t so much that young men go off to war and die, but that those who die are the best our country has to offer, the ones we can least afford to lose.  When Americans turned away from our Vietnam vets, it diminished us all.  We can never forget what’s at stake when we undertake war, so we appreciate the valor of those who don’t come back.  They deserve to be remembered, and their stories deserve to be told."

Geoff put his arms around her.  "You have to write that down for me."

"I don’t even remember what I said."

"Well, try.  It would be a comfort to my mom."

"I had forgot about your poor mother."  Glenn pushed him away.  "Hanging around with you has made me soft in the head.  Here I am doing exactly what I set outnot to do, putting another of her son’s in danger."  She fumbled in her pocket, and pulled out Bleetz’s camera.  "Take this, and get out of here.  Get it to Shane.  I don’t care how, just make sure it’s in his hands before another day goes by.  Got that?  And, the CD.  I left it at the house."

"The house?" Geoff asked.

"Lois’s.  It could be something to use for leverage depending on how things turn out.  The guy on the phone was…" She shook her head.  "I don’t remember."

"You said CIA."

"Let me think.  It was Knight.  Commander Justin Knight.  Don’t let him have the CD.  Take it to Shane, too.  I guess that takes care of everything."

"What are you doing?" Geoff asked.

"Taking back my life," Glenn said, and jumped from the car.  "I’m going to make like a sitting duck, and you’re getting the hell out of here."

Pip said, "I’m not bluffing."

Sadie studied him five seconds.  "Yes, you are.  But, it was worth a try."

"Get the key.  Now."

"That’s the first time I’ve seen you sound less than civil."  She crossed to the other side of the room.  "You don’t realize this, but I’m doing this for your own good."

"That’s the first time I’ve heard you sound like my mother."  His arm sank.

"We both know I’m in a mess.  What youdon’t know is that I’ve been in worse than this, and come out smelling like a rose.  It’s what I excel at.  I’ll do the same this time, if I can keep you out of my way.  When it’s all over we can kiss and make up."

"How do you know I won’t write you up in my report?"

"Same reason I know you aren’t going to shoot me.  Like it or not, we’re in this together."  She stepped into her underpants, and pulled them up.  "Let’s face it, you’re dying to see what rabbit I pull out of my hat.  Look, nothing up my sleeve."

He watched her fasten her bra, and put her sweater on.  "What’s the big deal about this case?"

"Does the expression ‘loose lips sink ships’ mean anything to you?" Sadie said.

"The agency has taken worse hits than this.  What’s the worst that can happen?"

"The girl could go to the media, and spill what she knows.  Hell, sheis the media."

"We put a few spin doctors on it."  Pip shrugged.  "So, one got by us."

Sadie stopped dressing.  "Sometimes your naivetéastounds me.  You don’t get it, do you?  The press, for all its principles, has never informed the public on anything we didn’tallow them to reveal.  I know America is largely ignorant of this fact, but I gave you more credit than that."

"That’s ridiculous."

"You think so?  Let me ask you a Zen kind of question.  If the press doesn’t report a story, did it happen?"

"Of course."

"Think about it.  How would the public know?  Say the USSR fell, and there was nobody to report it?  Think back to when the generals read the writing on the Berlin Wall, and saw the Cold War collapsing in front of their eyes.  They rushed to Congress with a scenario involving nuclear subs, and MIG fighters in our air space, of missiles being sold to a third-world lunatic, and squawked about the need for a military build-up.  They managed to subvert the truth—all in the people’s interest, of course—until the check cleared.  They got their money right before the Kremlin collapsed.  The people were so excited about the Wall coming down they were too busy celebrating to read the fine print.  Everybody got what they need, and nobody complained."

"That’s theoretical nonsense."

Sadie looked sideways at him.  "That’s what you think."

"The Press is not our enemy.  They report events as they happen, they don’t invent them."

"They report what’s in their best interest.  When was the last time you saw an Op Ed piece in the paper masquerading as hard news?  Chances are this morning, if you read the Washington Post.  The government takes it on the chin for being deceitful and manipulative.  But, nobody is as adept at sleight of hand in public relations as the almighty Press.  They chase down rumor and innuendo, and label it Truth.  Sometimes they get it right, sometimes they don’t.  Who’s to know?  If Americans are suspicious of their elected officials—and they have every reason to be—they should be even more skeptical about mass media.  He who controls public opinion, rules the world."

"You’d make a great fascist.  So, this reporter committed the sin of happening onto something you did.  And, she refuses to be managed by you.  So, she has to die?"

"You’re missing the point entirely.  Why do I even bother with you?"

He shrugged.  "Because I’m the best sex you ever had?"  The phone rang in the dining room.  "You better get it.  I’m all tied up."

When she returned, she finished dressing, and belted on her holster.  "I’ll be back."  She opened a dresser drawer and took out her gun.

"So, that’s where you put your sidearm."

"Were you looking for it?"  Sadie picked up his clothes, and threw them on the bed.  "I’ll let you keep your dignity.  But, admit it, if the roles were reversed you’d leave me naked, wouldn’t you?"

"If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t leave you."

She seated her pistol in the holster.  "I have to go now."

"I can’t let you," he said, raising his gun.  "If I can’t go, neither can you."

"Wow, you really surprise me.  We’ll talk about it later."

"Freeze," he said, pulling back the hammer.

"Bye," she said, and started through the door.

"Don’t make me do it."

He held his breath and squeezed the trigger.  His hand was steady and his aim dead on.  He weighed the decision before pointing the barrel of the Colt 45-G in her direction.  But, she gave him no alternative.  He braced himself for the explosion.

"I can’t believe you actually shot at me."  Sadie leaned inside the doorway.  "I honestly did not see that coming."

Pip realized he hadn’t heard the slam.  He fired again. Click .  He stared at the gun.

"I never have sex without precautions," she said.  "And, neither should you.  That’s good advice."

"You removed the clip.  When?  Ah, yes, when I went for a drink."

"Life insurance.  You never know when a lover is going to turn nasty on you."

"I’m shooting blanks."

"First time today, baby.  I’ve been very impressed by your performance, though.  Imagine, actually trying to kill me.  Aren’t you adorable?  I wasn’t sure you had it in you."

He lowered the weapon between his knees.  "Neither was I.  Funny.  I can’t say I’m not glad you aren’t dead."

"Why Pip, you say the sweetest things."

Sadie looked at him.  His fine-spun hair was disheveled, and his wrist was hanging forlornly from the handcuff.  She had a repugnant feeling of compassion.

"When I get back, I’ll beg your forgiveness.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" she asked.

"You shouldn’t say things like that to me.  I may take you up on it.  I may insist on your changing places with me."

"You want to make me your prisoner?"  Her eyes gleamed.  "Whatever turns you one.  If I didn’t have someplace to be, I’d take you up on it.  Any last requests?"

"A blindfold, and a cigarette?"

"But, you don’t smoke."

"Then, how about a kiss.  I have one hand tied behind my back.  Take off your piece, and leave it out there.  I just want to feel you up one last time."

"You talk as if I’m not coming back," Sadie said.

"I don’t think you are."

Sadie studied him for a moment.  He was up to something.  There was more going on behind his sensual stare than thoughts of seduction.  But, what could he possibly be thinking?  All the advantages were in her favor.  She had out-matched him every step of the way.  What in the world did he hope to accomplish with this rather obvious ruse?  The cautious cop side of her nature struggled briefly with the wanton woman inside her before coming to a decision.  She unbuckled her holster, and left it in the hall.

Geoff said, "I’m not leaving you, so you better get over yourself.  I won’t interfere with whatever it is you think you have to do, but I’m staying right here."

"Why do you have to be so obstinate all the time?"  Glenn opened the car door.  "Oh, all right, don’t listen to good advice.  But, if you won’t go away at least park over there behind the rhododendrons."

"All the way over there.  Why?"

"Think about it.  We’re targets here.  We have to split up."

"What does that have to do with my mom?"

She touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips.  "I made a promise that I would do everything in my power to protect your parents from ever having to go through anything like what happened to Bobby."

"I want the same thing."

"I know you do."  She kissed him on the cheek, then climbed out of the car.

"If anything goes wrong, I’ll be back," he said.

"If anything goes wrong, you get to Shane."

"I’ll be back."  He pointed his finger at her.  "I’ll be watching."

"Listen, there’s film in that camera.  It wouldn’t hurt to point it in my direction, and take a picture if anything happens."

He nodded, and drove away.

She wrapped her coattails around her, and sat on a spongy knoll.  There was time to rethink every step she’d taken over the past few days.  Oddly enough, the only thing she didn’t regret was opening her heart to Geoff.  Somehow he’d thrown a net around her like a cold-blooded carp, and hauled her ashore to be clubbed, scaled, and filleted.  She’d had her middle ripped open, and exposed for the world to see.  And, it didn’t hurt a bit.

The sound of a motor made her look up from the sculpture she was fashioning from blades of grass.  It was a pickup truck: dinged, dented, red paint faded to pink.  It roared past, kicking up gravel, and belching exhaust fumes.  Glenn went back to her art until she tired of it, then jammed her hands in her coat pockets.  A smooth object brushed against her fingers, and she brought it out to have a look.  She peeled back the red wrapping, and discovered an ornament shaped like a gingerbread man.  It was made of cookie dough, and had a crooked smile shellacked to its face.  A hole in his forehead had a string through it.  On the back of it were scrawled the name ‘Bri’, and the date.

A vehicle sounded its arrival.  It had the whine of a motorcycle engine.  The rider was wearing a snowmobile suit.  Even with that, and a visored helmet, Glenn didn’t envy him.  Winter is still winter, even on a temperate December day.  She watched him roll past her.  As her head came back around, she saw the van creep over the hill.  She rose to her feet, and returned the gingerbread man to her pocket.  The van stopped, and two men got out.  She let them come to her.  The one closest put his hand inside his overcoat, and pulled out a wallet which he flipped open.  She glanced at the CIA insignia, and his picture.  The other man stood in front of the van grill with his hands folded in front of him.

"Miss Prentiss?"

She chewed on her lip.  "I feel like I’m a five year old, and you’re a stranger with candy."

"I was sent by Commander Justin Knight," he said.

"Do I have to ride in that?  In back, I suppose?"

"Afraid so."

"I don’t guess there are any windows back there?"

"That wouldn’t be prudent."

"Not at this juncture," she said, and giggled.  "I’m sorry."

"Damn Dana Carvey," he said.

It was the most human thing she’d ever heard from a federal cop, and it made her trust him.  He put his left arm around her back, took her right hand in his right hand.  She felt like singing, ‘do-si-do!’  They walked over to the other man at the van.  Thoughts of Geoff flooded her mind, hiding in the bushes, watching.

"I can get Commander Knight on the phone," the man said.  "He’s standing by."

"Any idea how long I’m going to be sealed inside this sardine can?"

"No longer than necessary."

"That’sso comforting."

The other man stepped forward, and opened the back of the van.  She noticed a strip of adhesive tape across the bridge of his nose.  The inside corners of his eyes were green-black.

"I know you," she said. "Shoulders."  He looked straight ahead.  "He’s not holding a grudge, is he?"

"Field operatives don’t hold grudges," her escort said.

"He looks mad, though.  Is he mad?" she asked.

"He always looks that way."

"Guess that’s a good quality to have in your profession."

She looked at Shoulders again.  His head turned, and his eyes focused on something down the road.  The other agent rushed her forward.  Then, she heard it, too.  The motorcycle topped the hill.  Glenn saw the rider lift his hand.  Her escort lifted her with his left arm, and dumped her into the van like he was loading laundry.  Her head hit the back of the seat, and she landed on her belly.  She heard gunfire, and clamped her hands over her ears. Not again !

"No," she cried, into the corrugated metal floor.  "Help me!  Oh God, help me."

19

Glenn heard the motorcycle buzz.  The one door near her head slammed, and someone shouted.  She opened her ears, but kept her eyes clenched.  Leather shoes pattered alongside the van, a door opened, a voice spoke.  If only that screaming would stop. Shut up.  Silly, woman .  Why wouldn’t that woman stop screaming? Shut up, shut up .

"A man is down.  We’re coming in.  From the southeast.  Over the mountain."

Glenn pried her eyes open, and looked into the corner behind the wheel well.  She inched toward it when a loud thud thumped against the door.  A shadow fell across the doorway of the exit.  She braced herself against the wall.  A groan came through the opening.

"He’s hurt," said her escort.  "Bad."

Glenn looked at Shoulders, his eyes staring past the butterfly bandage at the top of his nose into some void near the soles of her shoes.  It may have been heroism that made her do it...mixed with stupidity...three parts hero, one part stupidity, a disaster cocktail.  Something from the lizard part of the brain, the limbic region that spawned impulses, drives, and urges to act beyond thought or reason, beyond health and safety, beyond personal survival spoke to her.

Fight or flight.

Glenn sprang open the van door, the one Shoulders had risked his life to shut, shielding her.  She swung it open, and leaped onto the road.

"Get back inside," her escort ordered.

She grabbed Shoulders around the waist.  "Let me help," she said, tugging on him.

Glenn heard the insect drone of an engine race toward them.  Her escort lifted Shoulders around the chest, and she circled his knees in her arms.  They rolled him into the van as the motorcycle flew past.  It made a tight turn 50 feet away.  Her escort spun around, and positioned himself in front of her.

"Get back!"  He brought a large gun with a scope up to eye level.

Glenn tried to crawl inside, but there were meaty legs in her way.  She tried to move fast.  Maybe she did.  The whole world started moving in slow motion.  The motorcycle came toward them in slo-mo.  Her escort took a slo-mo step in front of her, and from her peripheral vision a sleek silver arrow shot out from behind a leafy bush.  The motorcycle advanced, the large gun banged, and the arrow traveled straight and true.  By the time she pivoted, and got her feet up and over Shoulders, the gun discharged two times, and Gramp's silver Pontiac made contact with the rear wheel of the motorcycle.  The road became a wild wave.  The motorcycle tire fishtailed, dropping the machine on its side, and dragging the rider through chrome sparks.  The car skidded into the War Correspondent’s Arch where it stopped, and Geoff rocketed out.  Glenn saw him glance at the motorcycle, then focus on the van.  Her escort aimed his gun.

Geoff looked right at it, but he didn’t slow down.  Evidently, the lizard part of his brain was in control, too.  He picked up his pace, running toward Glenn.

"Freeze!"

She cried, "He’s with me!"

"Don’t move."

"No."  She dove for her escort’s arm.  "He’s with me!"

"Glenn!" Geoff called.

She yelled, "Stop running."

"Get down."  Her escort shouted into the van.  "Get her down."

Shoulders’ zombie hand grabbed her by the collar, and yanked her to the floor where he used his beefy carcass to shelter her.

"Stop!"  She struggled to get up.  "Don’t shoot!"

Her words hung suspended for a second, then she heard a balloon burst.

Time was meaningless—seconds, minutes, hours measured life slipping away.  Did it matter?  One man was lying next to her with his life leaking out, another was splattered over the pavement, while yet another had rushed headlong into a government bullet.  Time stood still for him, and her for the rest of what remained of her life.  The one thing Glenn had tried to prevent, had just happened: Mrs. Duncan had lost another son.

Somehow she pushed her way through the fog to wrestle with the unthinkable.  If she believed in prayer, or God, this would be a good time to get Him on the phone.  Life and death were entirely too relevant to take on her puny shoulders.  This was a burden that needed to be shared with someone bigger.  She pressed her face into her hands, and began to sob.

"Thank God," said the man, in the doorway.  "I thought you were dead."

"Geoff?"

Glenn sniffled, and swiped the tears from her cheek.  She leaped with a laugh into his arms, and buried her cheek in Geoff’s neck.

"Oh, Geoff.  I thought you were dead."

"Naw.  It’s that sorry son of a bitch on the motorcycle.  He told him not to move, but he raised his stupid gun anyway."

"Who?  I thought he was already dead."

"He is now."

The agent went a few yards out when a pickup truck roared over the hill, and screeched to a stop.  It was the pink one she’d seen earlier.  A concerned citizen?  Her escort ran to him, had a short conversation, then ran back.

"We’ve got to get Lou to a medic.  He’s bleeding real bad.  Somebody’s gotta keep pressure on it."

Geoff said, "Okay."

"Not you.  I’m going to need you up front.  Ever ride shotgun?"

"Not officially."

"I’m going to deputize you.  Remember, you can’t disclose what you see.  By the way, I’m Dave."

"I’m Geoff."  They shook hands.

"Pretty fancy driving."

Dave took a fresh handkerchief from his breast pocket.  He eased Lou onto his back, and placed the white square on a spot under his collarbone.  Then, he reached for Glenn’s hand, and put it over the handkerchief.  She squirmed.

"Pressure," he said.  "Firm, steady pressure."  Frank emotion stared from his eyes.  "His life is in your hands."

The back doors slammed, and the van began weaving downhill.  The only illumination came from an orange lantern fixed to the wall behind the cab.  In a few minutes her eyes adjusted to it, and she looked at Lou.  If he wasn’t dead, he was doing a good imitation of it.  She bent over him, trying to determine if he was breathing, but couldn’t.  She reinforced her hold on the pressure bandage with one hand, and loosened his tie and shirt buttons, just in case. His life is in your hands.  Great!  Just what I need .  She looked away from the dark liquid seeping through her fingers.

The farmer in the truck must have been part of the operation.  He’d driven past, verified her location, and called in the van.  In the meantime, the motorcyclist had located her.  The van arrived, and she was escorted to it, taking her sweet time about it.  Lou squirmed.

"Hey," she said.  "You alive in there?"  She searched his face.

His hand floated up, and covered hers.  "You... alive?"

"Yes.  Thanks to you.  And, now I’m returning the favor.  Your partner there, Dave?  He’s driving like a bat out of hell.  Got my friend riding shotgun.  Guess that’s usually your job, huh?  Huh?"  She jostled him, and he made a weak sound with his throat.  "He deputized him.  Ha, sounds like a bad western, huh?  What’s that mean, anyway?  Is that something a person can like turn into a career?  If you knew Geoff you’d know what a joke that is.  That boy has majored in everything, and decided on nothing.  Maybe this’ll be it.  They say there’s a reason for everything.  Maybe Geoff will decide he wants to be a federal agent. Just between you and me, I think he’s a natural.  He has a lot of courage.  Don’t tell him I said that.  Am I rambling?  It’s not because I’m nervous.  I’m sure you’re going to be fine.  I’m not worried about you.  Not at all."

She gazed up at the ceiling. What’s taking so long?   Had it been long?  Maybe they were still in slow motion.  She risked peeking at the wound.  It wasn’t surgical lighting, but what she saw made her queasy.

"Oh, boy.  Lou.  Lou!  Listen to me.  We’re almost there." That’s pretty low, lying to a dying man .  "Just hang on a couple minutes." It might not be a lie, they could be near .  "I’m not going to let go, Lou.  You might as well make up your mind to that.  I’m the most stubborn woman you ever met.  Tune in to my voice.  Okay.  I wish I’d known I could trust you.  We’d all be safe right now.  Don’t blame Geoff.  He was trying to help.  Which is the same thing you were doing, so you understand.  What?  Did you say something?"

"Are... you...?  You... safe?"

"For crying out loud.  Yes, I’m safe.  You saved me.  I guess I owe you a drink.  Soon as you get a Band-Aid stuck on this hole in your neck we’re gonna go out on the town, you and me, and I’m gonna buy you a good strong belt, and we’re gonna toast your health.  How does that sound?"

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she swatted it away.  She tried to stop chattering.  The strain was showing in her voice.

"What’s your drink?  You seem like a beer guy, dark ale or lager.  But, I want you to order something real pricey.  Twelve year old scotch or... an expensive wine.  How about this?  A bottle of James Bond’s favorite champagne.  That would be appropriate, don’t you think?  You being a spy of sorts.  And, me being... well, I’m not a Russian agent or anything.  What’d you say?  Please don’t ask me if I’m safe again.  You’re breaking my heart."

"Dom... Perignon."

"That’s right."  She laughed.  "Good old Dom.  New Year’s is coming up.  Why don’t we make it a date right now, to go out on the town, and drink until we puke?  Doesn’t that sound like fun?"

The van jolted to a stop, and the rear doors flew open.  Two men in lab coats heaved Lou onto a gurney.  Glenn was still grasping the bloody handkerchief.

"He’s alive," she said, as she put the bandage in Dave’s hand.  "I got him to talk to me."

Dave looked embarrassed.  "Ordinarily, this doesn’t happen."

Glenn didn’t know if he was talking about the chaos in the park, or his partner being shot, or his own show of emotion.  Whatever it was, he immediately shook it off, and led them to a motorized golf cart.  They were in a concrete tunnel lit by the same type lanterns as in the van, except these were citron colored.  She guessed they were underground.

"Where are we?"

"I could tell you," Geoff said, putting his arm around her.  "But, then I’d have to kill you.  At least, that’s what Dave said."

"You don’t have to be so happy about it."  She looked at Lou’s blood splashed across the back of her knuckles.  "Is there someplace I can wash up?"

Dave turned the cart left, and stopped in front of a metal door like on a submarine.  A guard in a green uniform and matching beret went through the formalities of checking Dave’s ID before buzzing them through, and cranking open the hatch.  Behind it was an octagonal office.  What a blast from the past.  The upholstery was burgundy-colored leather, the lamps were green-shaded with brass pedestals, the artwork generic landscapes with earth tones.  Glenn glanced at the round clock face on the wood grain paneling, half expecting the minute and hour hands to be frozen in time like everything else in the room seemed to be.  In the middle was a mahogany desk so large and self-important it dwarfed the man sitting behind it.  She halfway expected it to be President Eisenhower.

"Good to see you."  He pivoted in his chair, and ejected himself across the room.  "Dave, excellent work.  I wouldn’t worry about Lou.  He’s as strong as an ox.  He did the job, that’s what matters."  He clapped Dave on the shoulder.  "You can stand down now."

"Yes, Sir."

"Better check on those doctors, make sure Lou’s getting the care he deserves."

Dave saluted, and left the room.  The man then turned his attention to Glenn.

"We meet at last.  Justin Knight."  He took her hand, and looked it over.  "You’re not hurt, are you?"

She pulled back.  "Is there someplace to wash up?"

"She stayed with Lou," Geoff said.  "Probably saved his life."

"Through that door is a washroom.  Help yourself."

She stared at him for a moment.  "Haven’t we met before?"

"Isn’t that supposed to be my line?"

"You look so familiar."

He pointed toward the washroom, and she left to scrub her hands.  When she returned, Geoff was sitting in a chair talking to Justin Knight who was seated on the edge of his desk.  He gestured to a chair in front of him.  As she got near it, he stood, and the jolt of recall was devastating.  Dizziness overwhelmed her, and she crashed to the floor by the desk.  Geoff lifted her into the chair.  She slumped back, and ran her hand across her eyes.

"I need a drink."  She dabbed at her parched lips with her tongue.

"I’ve order you a cola," Knight said.

She opened her mouth to speak, but gagged on the words.  "I want to go home."  Another dry retch convulsed her chest.  "Take me home."

She looked at Geoff.  Geoff looked at Justin Knight.

"She’s not in any condition to be interrogated."

"And, she won’t be any better until we complete this investigation.  You care about this young lady?  Then, for her sake, convince her to cooperate."

"Cooperate?"  Glenn staggered to her feet, her eyes flashing.  "I’ve done nothing but cooperate, and look where it’s landed me."

"I can’t let you leave," Justin said.

"Oh, yeah?  Try and stop me."

She went to the door, pushed it open, and walked into the guard’s line of vision.  His hand slapped the rifle slung over his shoulder, and he stepped into her path.  She rotated on her heel, and re-entered the room.  The soldier closed the door behind her.

"Please, take your seat."

The Commander motioned to it in butler fashion.  She sat down, and folded her hands in her lap.  Geoff remained on his feet, her personal sentry.

"I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.  But, believe me, when I tell you I have your best interests at heart."

"Fine.  I believe you.  Ask your questions."

Justin pressed a button, and spoke into an intercom.  "We’re getting started."

A woman entered from a wood-paneled side door with two cans of Coke on a plastic tray like a flight attendant.  She served them, then opened the drawer of a table to the side of the mahogany desk.  Setting a microphone on the corner of the Commander’s desk, she gathered a tape recorder, a pile of folders, and two legal pads.  At a nod from her, Justin Knight asked Glenn and Geoff to state their names and addresses, and promise to tell the truth, just like in court.

Glenn answered each question fully, with Geoff chiming in with his recollection of events.  Commander Knight nodded at intervals, and asked for additional clarification.  When they got to Phil Bleetz’s death, he stopped Glenn on a variety of points.  Then he leaned back, and looked at the stenographer.  She clicked off the recorder.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" Justin asked.

"I can go now?" Glenn asked.

"I’ll show you out."  He came around his desk.

Geoff asked, "What happens next?"

"Someone will give you a ride home.  Hope you don’t mind riding in a limo.  You have your government’s gratitude."

"Just like that?" Geoff asked.

"When will I find out what this was about?" Glenn asked.

"Do you really want to know?"  Justin Knight crossed his arms, and stared at her with an amused expression.

She made a survey of his features, especially his eyes.  "Yeah," she said, quietly.  "I think you owe me that much."

His eyebrows wriggled like fuzzy caterpillars.  "A glutton for punishment."

"This started as an investigation to find out who murdered a few good men.  Maybe I don’t deserve an explanation.  But, the families of those men do."

"Even if it compromises national security?" Justin asked.

"Save the doubletalk for the press conference.  If that compromises national security, we’d better update our passports, and get the hell out of America before the ethnic cleansing begins.  If the government can’t be honest about matters like this, then I’m afraid we’re just one generation away from the ascension of the next Stalin."

"Do I look like Stalin to you?"  Justin Knight smiled.  "I’ll see what I can do."

"What’s that mean?"

"That means, you’re a real pain in my neck.  I will forward you as much of my report as is permissible.  Give me your fax number.  Will that do?"

"No, I want you to tell his mother what happened to her son.  That’s all I want.  Go over to their house, and give them the official results of the investigation."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"You’ve never met his family, have you?  Or you wouldn’t have to ask."  Glenn stood a little straighter.  "A man died.  Five men.  So what?  More people than that die in traffic accidents every day.  But, these men were our representatives, our ambassadors in another country.  The way we treat them, and their memory will do more to determine the future of America than any political policy, or economic theory.  This goes to the fiber of who we are as a nation."

"You know what you are?  An old fashioned, red-white-and-blue patriot."

"If I didn’t think you were, too, I wouldn’t be asking you to do the right thing."

"First, I’m Stalin, now, I’m a patriot?"

"You’re someone who’s seen more than his share of lives laid down for king and country, I suspect.  And," she wet her lips, "I believe, in the end, you will do the right thing."

"And, if I don’t handle this your way, what do you intend to do about it?"

"You’re the one who’s going to be kept awake at night by guilt.  I’ve had my say.  My conscience is clear."  She stuck her hand out, and shook Commander Knight’s.

"Follow this hallway down to the end, and wait.  Someone will meet you.  We’ll be keeping an eye on you.  You won’t be bothered.  We’ll be in the background, like elevator music, until we’re sure all the loose ends are tied up.  Then we’ll disappear, and you’ll be on your own.  Merry Christmas."

"You too.  C’mon, Geoff.  We’ve got some celebrating to do."

Justin Knight watched them go down the corridor, then turned to his secretary.

"What’s the news from the front, Tina?"

"Kind of quiet."  She shrugged.  "No news is good news?"

"Not in this case."  He stood with his hands on his hips.

"She’s something, huh?" Tina asked.

"Our Miss Prentiss?"  He shook his head, and chuckled.  "Yeah, she’s one of the more interesting people on the planet."

Tina narrowed her eyes, lifted the desk phone off the hook, and handed it to him.  "You’re the only one who can keep her that way."

"What way?"

"On the planet."

20

Glenn put her finger against Geoff’s lips.  "Be patient.  All will be revealed."

Geoff kicked an imaginary pebble across the concrete tunnel.  "Hey," he said.  "Why don’t you look happier?  You just got your life back."

She frowned at the toe of her shoe.  "Claustrophobic.  I won’t relax until I feel the wind on my face."

"You’re afraid to let yourself believe that you’re really okay."

"Damn straight.  Think about it.  Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor had a vested interest in getting us this far safely.  He had the questions, and we had the answers.  But, now what?  He has his answers, and we’ve got squat.  I don’t find that terribly reassuring."

"Is the glass always half empty for you?"

"I certainly ain’t no pie-in-the-sky optimist like you.  I can’t pretend the game is over when I haven’t heard the final score."

"And, you said you weren’t a football fan.  What’s got you so bugged, anyway?"

Glenn shrugged.  "I can’t really say right now."  She put her hands in her pockets. "Aw, no."  She pulled out the gingerbread man, broken in two across the waistline.

"What’s that?"

Glenn laid the crippled man in Geoff’s hand.  "Brianna gave it to me.  Now he’s dead."

"I can fix him."

"It must have happened when I dove into the van."

"If this is all that happened, we got off cheap.  You know, not bragging or anything, but I’m awfully good with my hands."  His eyes lifted over her head.  "I think that’s our ride."

A golf cart was coming toward them, driven by Dave.

"Sorry to make you wait, but I wanted to drive you, and I just got word on Lou.  I don’t understand medic talk, but it sounds like he’s going to recover."

Geoff put his arms around Glenn.  "How’s that glass of water looking now?"

She climbed into the back of the cart with Geoff.  "How fast can you make this thing go?"

They drove through the honeycomb, traveling to the end of T-shaped tunnels and making quick turns.  Glenn was lost within minutes.  The one thing she knew was that they went further getting out than they did coming in.

She leaned over to Geoff.  "We’re underground, aren’t we?"

He placed a finger against her lips.  "All will be revealed."

When they stopped, Dave helped them into a black limousine with black windows.  "Where do you want to go?"

"Good question," Glenn said.  "What do you think?  My house?"

"We should pick up my car first, then I can drive you to your house."

Dave said, "Your car is in the impound.  We’ll repair it, and return it to you."

Glenn said.  "We should go see Shane first.  Don’t you think?"

"Shane Singleton’s house?" Geoff asked Dave.  "In Bethesda?"

"I’ve got the coordinates," Dave said, and slammed the door.

It was a top-of-the-line limo with an entertainment center, and wet bar.  Glenn checked the 4-ounce bottles, turning each over, and reading the labels.  They were all of the soft variety.  Geoff twisted the cap off a ginger ale, and handed it to her.

"Take it easy with this.  It takes a little getting used to.  Small sips, and you should be fine."

"Very funny."

"Wait a minute.  Let me open mine, and we’ll toast.  Let me think.  To?"

"I know."  She pointed her bottleneck at his.  "To Robert Burns Duncan.  Rest in Peace."

There was a barrier between them, and the driver, and they could see nothing out the windows.  It was like being inside a cardboard box on wheels.  They sat back, and sucked on their sodas.

"I wonder how long it will take to get there.  Where are we anyway?  You can tell me."

"I gave my word."  He started laughing.  "I’m a terrible liar.  I can’t tell you because I don’t know."

"How could you not know?  You were riding up front."

"I was blindfolded.  He wanted me there in case we ran into anything, but in the meantime he made me wear these wrap-around shades.  It was like this window glass.  It looks like you should be able to see out of it, but you can’t.  Some sort of space-age science."

"I thought he trusted you."

"I could have whipped the glasses off, but he trusted me not to do that.  We made up that lie so in case you asked me—which I knew you would—I’d act like I couldn’t tell you.  But, I can’t lie to you, even for a joke.  I’m pathologically honest."

She wrapped her lips around the emerald bottle top, and swallowed.  Then, she held it against her chin, and blew until she coaxed a flute sound from it.

"I wonder who it was.  On the motorcycle."

Geoff shrugged. "Do you think he’s the one who killed Bleetz?"

"Or she."

"What?"

"He, or she.  They were covered from head to toe in that suit."

"Yeah, it could have been a woman."

"Or, one of those guys we ran into in the alley.  The one who cut you."

The limo came to a stop, and Glenn looked for a button to lower the screen to the driver.  There wasn’t one, and in the process of looking for it, she realized the smoothly padded interior door panel had no handle or window crank, more like a squad car than a limo.  The door beside Geoff opened, and Dave leaned inside.

"Thought you might like to have this back."

Glenn craned her neck forward.  "My camera."  Geoff ducked aside, as she threw herself across him.  "Thank you.  Thank you so much."

"Next stop, Bethesda."  The door slammed with a solid sound.

Glenn pulled the bag onto her lap, and opened it.  She handed Geoff the soft drink.

"Why the weird look?" she asked.

"I was just feeling left out, and a little jealous."

"Jealous?  Of what?"

"That look of true love you gave your camera.  How can you be so attached to an inanimate object?"

She frowned.  "Aren’t you happy for me?  I was afraid I’d never see it again."

"This means they were in my dorm room."

"We already knew that."

"And, now we know that they spent time there, searching it, going throughmy personal things.  Who knows what else they removed?"

"All I want to do is make sure nothing is missing.  You know? Nothing .  You know.  All the lenses, and film, andeverything .  Forget it."  She flipped the camera bag open, and went through every pouch, pocket, and zippered compartment.  "Gone.  The key."

"Oh."  He nodded.

She lowered her voice.  "The picture, too.  See?  Your things were not the only things violated.  Probably confirms that we are well, and truly out of this.  At least, they got what they wanted."

"They also got your insurance."

"Yeah, my policy has been canceled."  She made a fist, and stamped the palm of her hand.  "You aren’t really jealous, are you?"

"Of your camera?  Why?"

"I don’t know," she said.  "I had begun to think that you really were different."

"Different than what?"

"You know.  Different.  I’ve known guys who pretend my work is neat, and all that crap, but it’s just a line to get into my pants.  They’re acting.  But, not you.  I mean, you didn’t even get impatient with me when I took your picture in the dorm."

"If you remember..."

"You were annoyed, but you didn’t pout, or make demands."

"Demands?  Gosh, you sure do have a lot toun learn about men.  I was a little taken aback by the shriek of euphoria.  I’ve gotten used to you holding back your emotions.  Maybe jealous is the wrong word."

"I mean, I’ll tell you right now, I won’t compromise my work.  I’d die."  She gathered the camera bag to her.  "I’d shrivel up, and die."

He put his arm around her.  "I understand that about you."

"I want to believe that."

She leaned into the pocket he made for her under his sleeve.  He put his other arm around her, and she clutched his shirt.

"In case you forgot in all the excitement," he said.  "I loveyou .  Glenn Prentiss, Photographer."

"You mean, ‘girl’ photographer?"

"No, although I do think my heterosexuality is still intact.  What do you think?"

"I think your sexuality is fine.  At least, from where I’m sitting."

She let her thoughts wander back to the time when they were close.  She let it flood over her, the images, and sense memory as it rushed through her body.  Her mouth crawled up his neck.  The car jerked to a stop.  Geoff’s mouth hovered near her ear.

"Please tell me Shane has a bedroom."

"He has a darkroom.  It’s very small.  We’d have to stand up."

"News flash.  Vertical is not a problem.  Let’s ask Dave to circle the block."

"What if he doesn’t have a full tank of gas?  If he went slowly, we could, too."

"If only we knew how long this was going to take."  Geoff peered at the window glass trying to see something.  "Maybe we’re stuck in traffic."

"I don’t think so.  His engine is off.  Mine, however, is still racing."  She fanned herself.

"I can take care of that for you soon as I get you to my service station.  ‘Course, if he doesn’t get back here soon I might have to pop your hood right here."

The door opened.  But, before either of them could blink, a woman got in beside Geoff, and smiled.

"I’ve been assigned to take you the rest of the way," she said.

"Will it be much longer?" Geoff asked.

Glenn was wary, the way one woman sometimes instinctively is of another.  It was irrational, and Glenn tried to overcome it.

"Where’s Dave?" she asked.

"Dave was called away."

The woman smiled.  It was a disgustingly pretty smile.

Geoff said, "I hope nothing happened to Lou?"

"Lou?  Oh, Lou."

Glenn asked, "Was he called back because something happened to Lou?"

"You all are on such friendly terms," the woman said.  "Since you already know that much, I guess it won’t hurt to tell you."  She put on a pleasant kindergarten teacher expression.  "I’m afraid Lou has taken a turn for the worse."

She’s lying.  It was another irrational thought, and Glenn fought to suppress it.  "Then will you be driving us home?"

The woman looked closely at Geoff, and asked, "Can I get you anything?"

Now she reminded Glenn of a flight attendant. Fly me .  Geoff shook his head.

Glenn said, "We decided not to go to Bethesda, we want to go to my apartment." Fly some other guy .

"We’ll be there in no time."

Glenn couldn’t get the words out of her head now that they were there. I’m Bambi, fly me .  She made another stab at being polite.

"And, your name is?" she asked, offering her hand in a gentlemanly gesture.

The woman shook it, and then shook Geoff’s hand as almost an afterthought.

"Cozzoli," she said, backing out the door.  "Agent Cozzoli."

The door slammed shut.

"She’s lying," Geoff said.

Glenn looked at him.  "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged.  "Her eyes.  She made too big a point of looking directly at me.  And, trust me.  They’re even more shuttered than yours."

"Is that why you were looking so closely at them?"

"What other reason could I have?"

"Some men might think she has pretty brown eyes."

"Those men are not in love with green eyes.  Which are looking particularly green right now.  Who’s jealous now?"

Glenn batted his insinuation away like a gnat.  "I knew she was lying, too."

"What made you suspect?"

"I’d say ‘woman’s intuition’, but I’m not that kind of girl.  It was when we asked about Lou.  She had no idea what we were talking about.  Besides, didn’t Dave say he was going to pull through?"

"Speaking of Dave, didn’t he sayhe was taking us to Bethesda?"

"And, wouldn’t he have said something to us before leaving?"

Geoff pinched his lips together. "Yeah, maybe.  So, that leaves the question, who’s the wench up front?"

"And, why are we letting her drive us around?"  Glenn fingered the latch on her camera case.  "What are you going to do about it?"

"Why should I do anything about it?  I’m just along for the ride."

"Youare the man.  The man is supposed to do something."

Geoff grinned. "You’re not serious."

"Don’t do that thing with your eyebrows."

"What thing?"

"Stop it."  Glenn returned to the camera case.  "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Force yourself."

Geoff turned toward her with that determined expression she’d come to respect.

"Remember what you asked me?  After meeting with Mr. Knight?"

"You know him, don’t you?"

"How could you tell?" she asked.

"I’ve seen you shot at, chased, and with the corpse of your ex-boyfriend, but I’ve never seen you turn pale and faint."

"I’ve seen that man once in my life."

She bit her lip, and looked at her hands.  They trembled a little so she hid them in the folds of her coat.

"Seeing him brought it all back in a rush.  It was when Bobby died."

Geoff’s eyes widened.  "You don’t mean that guy had something to do with my brother’s death?"

"It was afterward.  A man appeared in the café, and took charge of the situation.  I guess, now I know why.  He said things to me about being a photographer, and tried to keep me from leaving."

"What did you do?"

Her lips screwed into a smile.  "I took his picture, of course."

Geoff laughed out loud.  "Of course, you did.  I would have paid real money to see that."

"No, you wouldn’t."  She stopped smiling.  "I never knew how the AFIB found out who I was.  After I filed the photos I assumed it had something to do with my credentials.  But, I was freelancing.  I wasn’t on any manifest, didn’t have an official press pass."

"Somebody must have given them your name."

"That’s what I told myself.  But, they tracked me down pretty quickly at my hotel."

"You thought you were anonymous.  But, the guy you happened to run into was a Commander for the CIA.  And, he notified the AFIB, and they tracked you down."

"Let me ask you a question.  Have you ever in your lifeheard of the AFIB?" she asked.

"No, but I don’t exactly keep up with government initials."

"But, when I asked about it, you all told me you never got a visit from any of their representatives."

"Just the two officers who showed up to give us the bad news," Geoff said.

"What if thereis no AFIB?  What if it’s a fictitious smoke screen made up by the CIA?"

"If they don’t exist, it’s been the CIA who’s after you."

"Or, let’s say Commander Knight sics his spooks on me.  The AFIB comes in, and claims jurisdiction, seeing that servicemen are involved.  Knight backs off.  At least, to all appearances.  They’re satisfied that I’m innocent.  But, when I get back to the States, Knight sends his agents to question me."

"Because he doesn’t trust the AFIB?"  Geoff nodded.  "I don’t know, but they did drop their cover to bring you in out of the cold."

Glenn thought about it.  "That must be what happened.  Something went screwy, and Justin Knight needed me to get to the bottom of it."

"What made you remember him?"

"His eyebrows.  I dream about them, they become tentacles that reach out for me.  You don’t suppose that’s what they were after?  The photo I took of Justin Knight?"

"Maybe that’s what they took out of your apartment.  Maybe that’s why he was so cool.  Because he knows you don’t have his photograph, because he burgled it."

"Except…I left the negatives with Shane."  Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes.  "I knew the glass was half empty.  I justknew it!"

21

Justin Knight drew his weapon, and nodded.  The key was fit into the lock, and the door opened.  Two agents moved inside.  The Commander followed, and made a sweep of the dining room.  He gestured to his men to go down the hall, and the three of them burst through the bedroom door.

There’s a kind of disquiet that inhabits a place where violence has been done.  Justin Knight recognized it here.  It was as if the air molecules hung in disarray and confusion, like children who needed comforting.  He sensed it very strongly, and kept his weapon drawn.

The bed was stripped of the sheets.  Knight examined the bare mattress, then straightened up.  He had a wire wrapped around his neck, which anchored a pair of discs to the base of his larynx.  He put two fingers on either side of his throat.

"We need forensics up here.  Stand by.  Over."  He put a finger to a plastic ear-piece.  "Check all dumpsters in a one block radius."  He listened, then spoke again.  "Sheets.  Bed sheets.  Out."

Justin Knight walked to the closet.  He waited for an agent to train his weapon, then pulled the handle of the louvered door.  Heaped in the middle of the closet floor was something so white, at first he thought it was the sheets.  Then, his hand went to his larynx microphone.

"We need a medic."  He holstered his weapon, and reached into the closet.

Eric Pippin lay stark and still, facing the back of the closet.  Justin felt Pip’s throat for a pulse.  Life fluttered like butterfly wings against Justin’s fingertips, and he examined the body for bullet holes.  There weren’t any.  He stretched out the arms looking for punctures.  Nothing.  He ran his hands under Pips corn silk hair probing for contusions, or abrasions.

"Aw, Pip, what in God’s name did she do to you?"

"Poison?" an agent asked.

"No sign of injection."

"Under his nails?"

"Not without a magnifying glass.  I’m going to turn him over."

"Careful, Sir.  He could be booby-trapped."

Justin nodded grimly, and eased Pip onto his back.  There was a smudge on his alabaster skin.  A darkened area on the ribcage just under the heart.  Knight pressed it lightly, and watched it change colors.

"Hang on, Son."  He sat back on his heels, and took Pip’s hand.  "He was cuffed.  Ligature mark on the wrist."

"What happened to him, Chief?"

"There’s a scorch mark on his skin," Justin said.

"Here comes the medtech."

Justin moved out of the way of a young man in starched shirt and pants.  "I think its electric shock," Justin said.  "There’s a burn mark on his left side there."

"Uh-huh.  What do you think caused it?"

Justin put his hands on his hips.  "I’d bet even money it was a taser."

"We’ll take it from here."

Justin turned his back.  "First, see if you can bring him around."

"That might be dangerous.  If his heart sustained an electric shock, pumping adrenaline into him could cause him to seize."

"Can’t be helped.  I have to talk to him.  Right away."

"I’ll give him 2 cc’s, but if that doesn’t do it…" The medtech paused, and let the implication speak for itself.

"Change places with me," Glenn said.  "It’ll take her by surprise, and in the split second it takes for her to recover, I’ll jump out of the car."

"And, do what?" Geoff asked.

"Run away.  When she chases me, you’ll have your chance to get out."

"Unless she closes the door, in which case I’m still trapped.  You see, this is the reason theman has traditionally been the one to do the thinking."

"What’s your brilliant plan?  You don’t have one, do you?"

"Of course I have a plan, and it’s better than that sorry thing you came up with."

"Enlighten me," Glenn said.

"I haven’t worked out all the details yet."

"I always know when you’re bluffing."

"Maybe I’m not as convinced of our peril as you are.  Maybe I don’t think we need rescuing."

"Because she batted her big brown eyes at you?  Men.  Can’t see the forest for the eyelashes."

"Women.  Can’t put two of them together without having a cat fight.  I’ve been thinking.  When you told her to change our destination, what did she say?  Did she say that she had the coordinates?"

"She said she would take us to my apartment.  You’re saying that she knows where I live without having to ask?"

"Even if she knew where you lived, she would haveconfirmed the coordinates.  Wouldn’t she?"

Glenn felt the answer in the pit of her stomach.  "If she was taking me home," she said, quietly.  "If she was taking us someplace else, she wouldn’t need to ask for directions, would she?"

"We’ve got to get out of here."

"Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?"

Glenn removed her camera from the case, and checked the film.  It was exposed, just like she’d left it after taking the pictures of Lou and Dave in front of Shane’s townhouse.

"What do you think happened to Dave?"

Geoff took her hand, and squeezed it.  "I’ll stay right here.  Maybe I’ll get a chance to knock her down, and we can get away."

"That doesn’t sound like any better a plan when you say it, than it did when I said it," Glenn said.  "Listen, if there’s any lying to do, let me do it."

"Anything to do with lying, cheating, or photography, and you’re up to bat."

"And, what if she comes for me first?"

"You’ve got that camera," Geoff said.  "Use it."

"Take her picture?"

"Nail her with it, hard, right on the nose."

"You can use my camera bag.  Remember how heavy it is?"

"If I get some elbow room," he said.

Glenn wound the strap around her forearm, and weighed the camera in her hand.  A sharp whomp on the nose would bring tears to your eyes.

"Leverage is everything in self-defense," Geoff said.  "Sit on the edge of your seat, and use your back leg.  Picture yourself springing like an arrow off a bow.  As soon as that door opens, hurl yourself forward."

"Show me."

She repeated his movements to varying degrees of success.  It would have to do.

"What if we’re wrong?"  Glenn asked.  "I mean, we wouldn’t be in this mess now if we’d only gone along quietly with Dave and Lou in the first place."

"You mean, instead of me punching him in the nose?  So, now this is all my fault?"

"I didn’t say that.  I didn’t even imply it.  Why don’t you just grow up?"

"You grow up.  We’re in a pretty hairy situation here, and we’re going to have to work together to get out of it.  You can’t be having second-thoughts, now."

"I don’t.  Not really.  I don’t have to think twice about wanting to give that lady agent a black eye.  You can count on me.  Everything is under control."

The car came to a stop.  Geoff pointed toward Glenn’s door.  She nodded.

"Good luck." Glenn whispered.

Her palms began to sweat, and the camera felt like it might slip.  She didn’t dare move.  It was her door that flew open, flooding the back seat with sunlight.  Then, Geoff’s door opened, too.  Instead of scurrying out as they’d planned, they both sat puzzled by the nothingness that lay before them.

Justin Knight ran down four flights of stairs.  He squeezed the microphone discs.  "Get Mobile Two on the line.  What?  No.  Have Mobile Command patch you through.  That’s right.  MobileTwo ."

In thirty seconds he was standing beside the car.  A man in a Kevlar vest looked up from the driver’s seat, and handed him the receiver.

"Here you go, Chief."

He shook his head.  "You call it in.  Direct a broadcast to Mobile Two, and see what happens.  I’m just here to listen and advise."

"What do you expect to hear?"

"If Agent Anderson keys in, toss the phone here."

The man put the receiver under his chin.  "If it’s anybody else?"

Knight sighed.  "Put out a general distress.  Ask his location."

"Check."

Glenn felt like somebody put her body in neutral, and kept revving the engine.  Her brain was working overtime, and not going anywhere.  She was stalled.

"We’renot in Bethesda," Geoff said.  "Smell."

"Bethesda has an odor?"  She inhaled.  "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.  Smells green."

"We’re still in the country."

"Maybe they brought us back to the Arch.  I wish I could see something.  Sh."

Geoff pushed the camera case on the floorboards.  "I’ll get out first.  If I don’t get my head blown off, you follow me.  You ready?"

Glenn slipped the camera strap over her head, and felt its heaviness reassure her.  "Ready."

"Slide over here so you can follow me out."

Glenn backed across the seat, watching Geoff out the corner of her eye.  He stepped out, and unfolded himself until he was standing upright.  She gripped the 33mm lens, and eased her toe out, testing the water.

It wasn’t as sunny as it first appeared.  Clouds tumbled across the sky making sun look like a whitewashed moon hovering over rows of evergreens and oaks.  A drizzle set in, driven by an uncompromising wind.  The chill was a welcome change from the confinement of the back seat.  Glenn tucked the camera under the shelter of her coat, and stepped around the side of the car.

Geoff said, "Weird."

"We can’t be alone."  Glenn scanned the tree line on the side of the road.

Geoff looked around.  "There’s that sound again."

"Voices."

"Coming from inside."  He reached for the door handle, and pulled.

A voice said, "General distress.  Mobile Two, do you copy?  Come in, Mobile Two."

"A CB.  Get inside," Geoff said.

"It’s a trap.  Nobody’s going to go to all this trouble, and just let us take the car.  Do you know where we are?"

"Don’t have a clue.  Could be any woods anywhere.  Do you want to drive out of here, or would you rather walk?"

"Steal the limo?"

"Borrow it."

Glenn squinted at the sky.  Rain fell in plump drops that sounded like boots galloping across the leaves, and hit the pavement like miniature grenades filled with India ink.  She looked into his shimmering face.  His ponytail was growing straight under the weight of the water.  Tension drew his brows together.

"Come in, Mobile Two."

Glenn inched behind the wheel, her attention focused on a phone in the center of the dashboard.  A red light shone next to an oval button that said ‘speaker’.  She punched it.

"Ahem!"

Glenn looked up.  A man was pointing a gun at her from outside the passenger door.

"Go ahead," he instructed.  "Answer it."

"No, thanks."  She backed out of the car, and stood beside Geoff.

The man cocked his gun, and steadied it on his forearm.  Glenn brought her camera under her chin.  The man sighted her down the barrel.

"I’ll shoot."

Glenn lifted her camera to her eye.  "I’ll shoot first.  Let’s see which of us is faster on the trigger."

Geoff grabbed her, and pulled the camera from her face.  "Are you nuts?  He’s got agun .  You’ve got acamera .  The guy with the gun gets to make the rules.  Put that down, and do what he tells you."

"No."  She squirmed out of his grasp.

Geoff turned to the gunman.  "Tell me what you want.  I’ll do it."

"No," the man said.  "I want her to do it."

"I’m sorry, Sir, but his isthe most obstinate woman in America.  I’ll take the call.  Is that what you want?  Tell me what to say, and I’ll say it.  Just don’t shoot her."

"Are you sure you don’t want me to shoot her for you?"

Geoff looked at her.  "Yeah, pretty sure."

He shoved Glenn aside, and got in the car.  He lifted the receiver, and looked at the man for instructions.

"Push the button that says ‘talk’, and use it like any other phone."

Geoff activated the button.  "Hello.  Hello.  Who’s this?"

"This is a general distress call, Mobile Two.  We need backup.  What is your location?"

Geoff looked at the gun, and the man holding it.  Then, he looked at Glenn.  She had an impatient expression on her face.

"My location?"

The gunman gave him two street names, which Geoff repeated into the phone.

"Who is this?" asked the caller.  "Is it Agent Anderson?"

"Yes, this is... Dave.  Who are you?" Geoff asked.

"This is Mobile Dispatch.  Are you available to answer our call?"

"No.  We are on our way to Bethesda, and won’t be available for forty minutes."

"Roger, Mobile Two.  Check with Command when you return.  Over."

"Over... and out."  Geoff hung up.

Glenn said, "I think you have to press that button to clear the line."

"Which button."

"That one."  She pointed.  "Otherwise, the line is still open.  Right?"  She looked at the gunman for confirmation.

"Look," Geoff said, gesturing with his chin.  "Over there.  It’s her."

Coming out of the woods on the other side of the road was a solitary figure.  She moved with deliberate ease, her eyes on the ground in front of her.  Glenn was reminded of a fashion shoot she’d worked once.  The woman had the same gait, the same practiced nonchalance of someone pretending to be unaware that every eye in the vicinity was admiring her.  Glenn lifted her camera.

"Hey," the gunman said.

Glenn snapped a picture, then lowered the camera, and advanced the film.  "She’s beautiful.  Isn’t she?"  Glenn shot again.

Sadie reached their side of the road, and stood with her hands in the pockets of her beige ‘spy’ coat.  Glenn lowered the camera, suddenly afraid Agent Cozzoli would scold her.  For some reason that terrified her more than the threat of the gun.  Sadie’s gaze landed on the gunman, and stayed there.

"Put that away," Sadie said, quietly.  She tilted her head, and stared at the gunman.

The gunman’s sneer became a pout.  "You told me to watch them."

"Watch them," Sadie said, in even tones.  "Not terrorize them."

Glenn and Geoff stared at him, like third-graders witnessing a peer’s humiliation.  Sadie continued staring at the gunman until he rubbed his forehead with his thumb, and turned away.  Then, she addressed Geoff who was still in the driver’s seat.

"I apologize for my friend’s enthusiasm."

"No harm done."

Glenn studied Sadie’s profile: delicate nose, dark sweeping lashes, strong chin.  Her brunette hair was caught at the nape of the neck like Geoff’s, other than the fact that hers wasn’t as wet.  That’s when Glenn realized it had stopped raining.

Sadie said, "I hope he didn’t frighten you too much."

"Naw," Geoff said.

Glenn wanted to barf.  Here was a man infatuated with the truth and yet, with the hint of a flirtation, his ethics dissolved like sea foam on a hot beach. Typical .  Glenn did the only thing she could.  She took a picture of his lying face.

Sadie turned her attention to Glenn, who felt a superstitious impulse to raise a crucifix.  She settled for the Nikon.  Glenn cocked the shutter, and held the lens before her face like a shield.  The agent’s face sharpened into focus.  Glenn lowered the camera.

"Why are we here?"

"If you follow me, all your questions will be answered," Sadie said.

"Follow you where?" Glenn asked.

Sadie jerked her thumb over her shoulder.  "It doesn’t look like much of a trail, but it widens out."

"You want us to follow you into the woods?"  Glenn grinned. Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.

Sadie looked at her.  "Is there a problem?"

Geoff stood beside Glenn.  "What’s so important that you can’t tell us right here?"

Sadie smiled.  "I understand your caution.  But, you can trust me.  It’ll only take five minutes, and we’ll be on our way again."

Glenn leaned over, and whispered, "I’ll bet that’s what the big bad wolf said to Little Red Riding Hood."

Geoff said, "Ooh, what big teeth you have."

"The better to eat you with.  Yeah, I’ll follow her into the woods all right."  Glenn looked at Sadie.  "Hey, what happened to Dave anyway?"

Sadie crossed her arms over her chest.  "Actually, he’s part of the surprise."

"I’ve had enough surprises to last me a lifetime," Glenn said.

"You’re going to make me tell you," Sadie said.  "If that’s the only way to get your cooperation.  I’ve arranged for you to meet somebody... special."

"Out here?"

Agent Cozzoli looked at Glenn.  "It’s your friend.  Singleton."

"What about him?"

Sadie smiled the way a delivery room nurse does when she hands an infant to its mother.  "He’s waiting for you."

He’s waiting for you.  The words came wrapped in layers of emotions and Glenn peeled each one back. Fear.  Joy.  Curiosity.  Suspicion .  That was a big one.  Suspicion.  But, there was one more lurking beneath the surface.  And, that was the final one, the one she couldn’t ignore. Love .

She loved Shane, the way a friend loves a friend, the way a daughter loves a father.  Was he waiting for her?  It might be a trick.  But, what if there was the tiniest chance it was true?  Was he in danger?  Because of her?  Could she risk leaving him there, waiting for her, sticking it out until she arrived?  A million questions, and each one more sickening than the last.  Glenn thought about how Shane waited for her when she came into his house with Phil dogging her.  He rescued her.  Just as he had always done.  In a sense, he was a father to her.  The only father she’d ever known.  How was it that it took until now, for her to realize it?

Sadie said, "He’s been in on this from the start."

"He has?"  Glenn heard the uncertainty in her voice, the quivering tone of naiveté.  "Funny, he didn’t tell me about it."

"He couldn’t," Sadie said.

"Shane and I confide everything to each other.  He wouldn’t keep this from me."

"You told him everythingyou knew about this?" Sadie asked.

"Yes," Glenn said, without skipping a beat.

She saw it take Sadie by surprise, even though she recovered quickly.  "You weren’t supposed to do that.  Some might consider it treason."

"Who do you think you are, questioning my loyalty?"

Glenn hardened her voice, determined tosound confident.  What she felt was that the world was a circus sideshow, and her life had become the funhouse mirror.  No sooner would she take a good look at something, it would twist into some grotesque distortion of what she thought it was.  And, nothing was more convoluted than the figure standing there before her.  Glenn took a step closer to the female agent to get a better look.  The smile crept back to Sadie’s face.

"We took Mr. Singleton into protective custody after Union Station, and stashed him here.  I know it would ease his mind to see that you’re safe and sound.  He truly cares about you."

Geoff said, "Then bring him here, and we’ll all ride back together."

Sadie wagged her head back and forth, and reached for her gun.

22

Justin Knight ordered, "Get me a map."

"Of where, sir?" Agent Russell asked.

"The far side of the moon, if that’s where you triangulated them."

"The call originated from the Catoctin Mountains, up near Camp Number Three.  Is there a problem?"

Justin Knight scowled.  "We’ve ‘misplaced’ one of our vehicles, and one of our agents who was guarding two witnesses in an interagency investigation.  We find a wounded agent whose last known contact was with one of our most unpredictable agents, who has also gone missing.  We key into our missing vehicle to hear one of our missing witnessespretending to be Agent Anderson.  If that isn’t enough, we triangulate their position to be in the map grid of Camp David.  You do the math."

"You don’t think our Commander-In-Chief is in danger, do you?"

"Why don’t you get on the horn, and find out if the president is at Camp David today?"

Agent Russell scratched his head.  "Sir, shouldn’t the Secret Service be brought in on this?"

"Do you want to be the one to tell the president that the CIA has botched something this simple, this badly?  I know you’re a rookie, but evenyou have to have better sense than that."

"But, if our president is in danger we have a duty."

"Don’t lecture me on duty, son.  This hot potato isn’t being handed to the Secret Service unless it becomes crucial that the president be informed.  Got that?  I know you’re green, but you’re all I’ve got.  Don’t let me down."

"Yes, Sir.  I mean, no, Sir."

"What’s your name, son?" Justin asked.

"Russell, Sir, Agent Russell."

"Agent Russell, you’re going to dig up a detailed map of the Catoctin area.  Then, you’re going to call my office, and get Tina for me."

"Tina?"

"My administrative assistant.  She answers my phone.  Tell her I need the president’s itinerary for today.  Tell her I need it ASAP."

"Then what?"

"Then we let Tina do her job.  When she calls back, I want to talk to her.  Got that?  But first, the map.  Where is it?"

"In the trunk, Sir.  Alphabetized by code," Agent Russell said.

"What code am I looking for?" Justin asked.

"Hm.  Look under ‘U’.  That’s the code for that area.  ‘U’ for ‘Underground Pentagon’."

"The Underground Pentagon is a myth, rookie, you were trained on procedure regarding that."

"Yes, Sir.  It’s still under ‘U’, because that’s the code."

"And, maps are your specialty, aren’t they, son?"

"Yes, Sir, I love maps."

"And, you know your maps?"

"I’m sort of a map expert, Sir, if I do say so myself."

"Stick around, kid.  You may just be the best thing to happen to me all week."

Agent Russell grinned, and leaned into the car to call Tina while Commander Knight went to the trunk.

"Uh, Russell," Justin Knight said.  "Pop the trunk lid."

"Yes, Sir."

Glenn saw Sadie pull the gun from a hip holster, and she raised her camera to her heart.

"I don’t have time for this," Sadie said.  "If I wanted to kill you I could have shot you in the car.  Or, had my partner do it.  Okay, now I’mtelling you.  I’m reuniting you with your buddy whether you like it or not.  Come on people, let’s go."

Glenn wanted to look at Geoff, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the gun.  Sadie used it as a shepherd’s rod to guide her little lambs where she wanted them to go.  And, she wanted them to cross the road, and go into the woods.  Glenn was first, then Geoff, with Agent Cozzoli hiking single file behind them over wet leaves and granite that shrugged up through the trail.  Glenn had her eyes down to avoid tripping over rocks and roots.  Pine limbs jutted out and slapped her, and then she came into a clearing.  Geoff came up behind her.

"Now I know where we are," he said.  "Camp Misty Mount.  I spent a week here with my fifth grade class.  See the cabin?  There are two more like it over there."

Glenn turned to Sadie.  "Where’s Shane?"

"Right in the first cabin."

"And, I’ll find Shane and Dave?"

"That’s right.  Just a few steps more, and we’ll all get what we want.  I’ll be finished baby sitting, and you’ll be reunited with your friends."

There was something about the tone in her voice that gave Glenn chills.  Or, maybe it was the clamminess of her rain-soaked overcoat.  Geoff went to the doorway of the wooden A-frame, but Glenn couldn’t make herself go any further, not even with a gun in her back.  She turned, and looked at Sadie.

"He’s not in there, is he?"

Just then, Geoff shouted, "Glenn, I see him.  He’s inside."

"I still don’t believe you," Glenn said.

"You believe your boyfriend, don’t you?"

"I don’t believe anybody."

Sadie chuckled, and gestured with the gun.  "Go on, see for yourself."

Glenn climbed the roughhewn steps as if ascending a gallows, and entered the dark interior of the cottage.  Geoff was silhouetted against a far window, motioning to her.

"He’s asleep."

Geoff circled to the other side of the bed.  A man lay on the top bunk, facing away from them.  Geoff leaned toward him.

"Oh."

"What?  What’s wrong?"

"It’s Dave."  Geoff frowned at Glenn across the bed.  "He seems to be breathing.  I don’t know."

Until that second Glenn had harbored a small hope that Shane was there.  It had given her courage.  Now that glimmer was extinguished, and she knew who was to blame.

"Liar!"

Glenn whirled around.  The door slammed shut with the finality of a coffin lid.  Glenn ran to it, and jiggled the handle.  She hurled herself against it, but it held fast.  Geoff ran up behind her, and threw his weight against it.

Caught, like a bug in a bottle.

Glenn ran to a window.  Sadie turned, and faced the cabin.

Like a bug in a bottle.

Glenn pounded on the glass.  Sadie raised something in her hand.  She aimed it, and thumbed a button, like she was changing a channel.

Like a remote control.

There was a popping sound on the far wall, and a hiss.  Remote control?  Geoff and Glenn saw it at the same time.  A stream of white smoke snaked through an electrical outlet, followed by a tongue of blue flame.  Its flickering orange tail wriggled up the wall, and fanned out along the corner of the ceiling going in two directions.  The rafters were the next to go, spouting smoke into the peak.  It was high enough that Geoff and Glenn would have a few minutes to regret their gullibility before the fumes choked them to death.  Glenn pulled on the window sash.

"Nailed shut," she yelled to Geoff.

She pounded on the glass again.  She could still see Sadie.  There was no emotion on her face.  She might have been standing at a railroad crossing watching a train rumble by.  Her stunning lack of interest made Glenn nauseous.  She grabbed her camera by the neck strap, and took a stance like a discus thrower.

"Wait," Geoff said.  "Oxygen is going to accelerate this baby.  You put a hole in the glass, you better be prepared to jump right out afterward."

"That’s what I had in mind."

"This window.  We can take Dave with us."  Geoff took a pillow made of mattress ticking, and held it in front of them.  "Go ahead.  Smash hell out of it."

Glenn whirled the camera like an Old Testament slingshot.  It briefly crossed her mind as it took flight that she ought to have held onto the strap in case she needed to use it again.  But, it was too late.  It punched through the glass, leaving a lacy spider web pattern radiating out from the opening.  Geoff stuffed the pillow into it, forcing the pane, and the wooden mullions to splinter.  The fire roared with new vigor.  The smoke stopped playing it coy in the rafters, and swooped downward.  Geoff pulled the bunk close to the window, and Glenn helped him roll Dave out of the bed and through the hole.  Then, Geoff supported her as she crept outside.

"Careful you don’t cut yourself."

It was silly, after facing fire and bullets, to be afraid of a little broken glass.  She decided to tell him so as soon as he joined her on the other side.  But, as he pushed through to the outside and straightened up, Geoff’s eyes widened.

"Look out!"

Geoff swept her aside with both arms.  She stumbled over Dave, and fell into a wispy bed of ferns.  Looking up, she saw a rock hit Geoff in the middle of the chest with such force that he sprawled backward on the ground.  A man stepped from behind a hoary fir tree.  It was the man with the gun.  He bent over Geoff, and picked up the rock again.

"No!" Glenn yelled, struggling to her feet.

Geoff’s arm covered his face as the man lifted the rock over his head.  Glenn slid around in the mud fighting with a rotting branch that got under her heel.  She couldn’t fight the law of gravity.  So, she went with it.  As her feet gave way she aimed her fall in the direction of the man.  She collided with the backs of his knees, and toppled him onto Dave.  The rock fell to the ground, missing Dave’s face by an inch.  Glenn got to her feet, and stood over Geoff.

"Come on, you son of a bitch!"  She waved the gunman toward her.  "You’re gonna have to go through me."

It was like poking a sleeping grizzly bear with a stick.  Not only was he all claws and teeth, now he was angry.  Before, he just wanted to kill her, now he was determined to torture her.  He sprang at Glenn, who had no hope of fending him off.  He wadded the front of her shirt, and pinned her against the trunk of the fir tree, pushing so hard she couldn’t breathe.  She raised her eyes to the sky, and waited for her chest to implode.

In an instant, she flashed back to that night in front of Shane’s townhouse.  The attacker, who had grabbed her then, had the same huge hands and ferocious grip.  It had been too dark to see his face, but there was no doubt about it, no doubt at all.  This was the same man.  Raw fear cut through her like a knife.  With renewed strength, she kicked at him.

He tossed her down like a rag doll.  She landed, jarring her skull.  Before she could recover, he was on top of her, and tugged on her shirt.  She thought he was going to smash her head against the rocks.  Then, she felt cold air on her skin, and her senses returned.

"Come through ya?" he snarled, saliva spraying her face.  "You couldn’t lie down, and die like a good girl, could ya?  I’ll come through ya, and you’re gonna wish you was dead."

Glenn always thought she was too smart, to let such a thing happen.  Now that it was happening, all she wanted to do was to close her eyes, and disappear to a safe place inside her head.  And, then what?  And then, he was going to kill her.  No, this would kill her.  After that he would be shoveling dirt on her lifeless remains.  She wouldn’t want to live if she allowed this to happen.

Allowed?  As if you have a choice.  You always have a choice.

"Help me!" she cried.

With her legs and arms pinned, all she could move was her mouth, so that’s what she did.

"Shut up," he said, shaking her.

She sucked in another lung full of air.  "Somebody help!"

"Who d’ ya think’s gonna hear ya?"

He put his hand over her mouth.  At least she’d keep that hand preoccupied.  Whatever she did, she was not going to make it easy.  He hauled back, and slapped her.  Her ears rang, and she thought her head was going to roll off.  Then, he dragged her to her feet.  He cocked his arm back again.  She clenched her teeth, and braced herself for the explosion.  Suddenly, he released her, and fell backward.  Glenn stared at Sadie Cozzoli as she stepped forward, clutching what looked like a pair of hair clippers.  Glenn looked for Geoff, but there was no sign of him.  Sadie glanced down at the man.

"Men can be such beasts.  I gave strict orders you weren’t to be hurt."

She put out her hand.  Glenn jerked away from it.  The cabin creaked, and gurgled, as smoke poured from the eaves, and curled into the treetops.  In the instant it took Glenn to glance at it, Sadie closed in, twisting Glenn’s arm behind her back.  Intense pain puckered her shoulder.  Sadie’s face was so close Glenn could smell her hair.  It had a faint musky scent.

"I’m truly sorry about this," she purred, in Glenn’s ear.  "I wish it didn’t have to be this way.  I’ll be gentle."

Sadie put her cheek against Glenn’s, and placed a soft kiss on her throbbing jaw where she’d been pummeled.  Glenn gaped over her shoulder.  The hair clippers came toward her.  There were sparks at the edges, like the blue fire of a bug zapper.  Glenn realized what it was, and began to writhe.

"Hush," Sadie said.  "Don’t fight, and it’ll be painless."

She kissed Glenn once more with vampire ferocity.  Repulsed, Glenn felt the moist sucking sensation on her neck.  Then, it came to her with brilliant clarity.

Lubrication!

The word sliced into Glenn’s mind, as Sadie zapped her in the same spot where her lips had been.  There was the stinging wasp bite, and Glenn felt as if ants were crawling over her body.  The last thing she heard was Sadie’s pronouncement.

"Nobody gets out of here alive."

Glenn’s eyes went blind, her tingling limbs went numb, and she was cradled to the ground, wrapped in the intoxicating aroma of musk.  When she came to, a smoldering stench stung her nostrils and lungs.  She gagged, hiccuped, and sat up in a cloud of sour smoke.  The acrid air was like sandpaper in her eyes and throat.  She tried to fan it away, but it clung to her skin.  She began to crawl, when a shock wave of heat made her change paths.

From somewhere came a dim recollection of a fire, a flame that ignited a wall and engulfed a wooden A-frame.  She remembered Geoff trying to un-jam the door.  Where was he now?  The window.  Using her face as a compass, Glenn felt the heat radiating from north, making the window west of her.  She changed direction.  As far as she knew the window was on fire, but since that was the last place she saw Geoff that was where she had to start.  Glenn had advanced five feet when she fell over someone.  She felt for the head, and found its hair.  She put her face next to him, and breathed into his ear.

"Geoff?"

The floorboard beside his shoulder was on fire.  She tried to move him, but he was too heavy.  If she was lucky, she could drag him to the window, but she’d never be able to lift him out.  If she couldn’t go over, or around, that left only one choice: through.  She’d get him out if she had to claw a tunnel through the three-inch timbers.

Glenn tipped him onto his side, and flopped him over.  They hadn’t traveled far when she ran into the bunk bed.  She pulled it away from the window.  If only she had enough time.  She crawled under the bottom bunk, used her feet as a fulcrum, and lifted the bedspring over the side, and onto the floor.  She wriggled out, and positioned one end of the mattress support on the window ledge.  She grabbed Geoff under his armpits, and lifted him onto the mattress.  She pulled him up as far as possible, then bent over, and grasped the iron spring that still rested on the floor.

Bend with your legs, not with your back.  Everything is physics.  Leverage and physics.  Everyone gets out of here alive.

She visualized a weightlifter, and clean-and-jerked the end of the bedspring, pushing it over the windowsill.  When it landed at an angle on the other side, Geoff slid headfirst off the homemade ramp.  She threw herself down the mattress after him, and dragged him into the woods.  The cool dampness felt like balm against her scorched skin as she lay on the wet leaves.  Geoff had not made a sound, and she wondered if she’d rescued a dead man.  No, he couldn’t be dead.  She’d seen dead men, and he did not look dead.  There was color in his cheeks.

Of course his cheeks were rosy.  He’s got second-degree burns, you idiot.

She lifted his head into her lap, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and called to him.  His eyelids fluttered.  She kept crooning his name.  His lips moved as if he was trying to form words.  He sputtered, and began to cough.  She helped him sit up.

Geoff said the last thing he remembered was attempting to come to Glenn’s rescue when Sadie grabbed him from behind, and stung him with something.

"A taser," Glenn said.

She told him her story.  While she was telling it, it didn’t seem like it had happened to her.  It was a distant event removed from her experience.

"I don’t know what happened to Dave," she said.

"After we got him outside?"

"The two of us wound up back inside.  I don’t suppose he was spared."

"Did you see him in there?"

"I couldn’t see anything.  I only found you because I fell over you."

Geoff coughed, and cleared his throat.  "I guess the plan was to get us all inside, and burn us beyond recognition."

"That’s why she didn’t shoot us.  Bullet fragments."

"We should do something about Dave.  I’m going back for him."

She looked in his eyes, and saw the determination there.

"Take my coat.  Put it over your head."

The front door had a wedge of wood shoved under it, and he kicked it away.  When he opened the door, black billows stampeded over him.  She could hear the building’s bones cracking.  Geoff tented himself under her coat, and pushed inside holding his arms in front of him.  Glenn heard a crash, and yelled his name into the open door.  All that came back was the groan of the cabin as it melted away.  Then, the rain started again, harder than before.  She raised her voice, and bawled.

"Geoff!"

23

"Fifteen North to Gettysburg.  Then what, Chief?"

Justin Knight folded his map along the crease, and ran his eye north and east.  "As the crow flies, that’s about as close as we get.  How fast are you going?"

"Seventy."

"I think eighty would be better."  Justin looked at Agent Russell.  "You don’t mind driving fast, do you?"

"No, Sir.  This is the kind of car you love to drive fast."

"Because of the government license plate?"

"Because of the smooth ride.  I swear, it’s like piloting a boat on the Chesapeake.  Of course, having G2 tags doesn’t hurt."

"You have a boat?"

"Naw, Sir, not me.  Can’t afford it.  But, I have a friend who’s got a cabin cruiser.  He keeps it down the road, toward Annapolis.  At that cove, oh, you know.  What’s the name?"

"Sandy Point?"

"No, further down the shore.  Past the Severn River.  I go out with him sometimes.  Do some fishing, unwind."

"Ever do any crabbing?" Justin asked.

"My dad’s got a rowboat that we put in down at Wye Mill.  Perfect for crab pots."

"I prefer hand-lining, myself.  I enjoy the precision of it.  You have to be real cagey to outsmart a crab.  Reel him in, hand over hand, and net him before he knows you’ve got him."

"Yeah."  Russell drove a minute in silence.  "You trying to distract me?"

"If you dwell too much on what might be in store, you can get all knotted up, and unable to function.  You’ll be fine, Russell.  I’ve seen a lot of rookies, and you’ve got what it takes."

"Permission to speak freely?  I’ll bet you say that to all the boys.  It’s another one of your relaxation techniques, isn’t it, Sir?"

Justin laughed.  "Can’t put anything over on you."

"You build up a guy’s confidence, and he does a better job, huh?"

"I prefer a building up to a dressing down.  I reserve my ‘fear-throwing’ for the bad guys."

Russell flipped on the windshield wipers.  "Eighty-five all right with you, Sir?"

Justin lifted the phone, and dialed a number.  "Bad guys don’t stand a chance against you."

"Understood," Russell said.  "When we get there, you aren’t going into the field yourself, are you?  Fieldwork is for operatives like me.  You shouldn’t even be out here.  You should be back in the office, running things."

"Believe it or not, I can do both."  Justin tried an alternate number.  Then, a third.  Finally, he heard the voice of his high school friend.

"Ag-Rotor.  If you’ve got a pest, you’ve called the best.  Wayne speaking."

"That’s the worst slogan I’ve ever heard for a crop duster," Justin said.

"Who is this?"

"Look at you, pretending you don’t know me.  After all I’ve done for you.  Bailing you out of jail."

"Oh, my God, it’s the fuzz.  What do you want, J?"

"I was going to offer you a lucrative government contract, but after that, I’ll take my business elsewhere."

"What’s up?  Trouble?"

"With a capital T.  You haven’t had your aviator’s license revoked, have you?"

"Hey, if you’re buying, I’m flying," Wayne said.

"Nowthat’s a slogan.  I’m ten minutes from your airfield."

"Where are we going?"

"Remember where we buzzed those cows on spring break during senior year," Justin said.

Wayne wheezed. "Oowee, did those critters run.  But buddy, have you looked out your window lately?  It’s dark, and it’s damp."

"Which is why I need your special skills."

Wayne chuckled.  "If I recall, you’re kind of a squeamish flier."

"I’ll try not to scream like a woman."

"This time."  Wayne laughed again.  "See you in ten."

Russell said, "Sir, did you hear that?  On the police band.  A three alarm fire.  Right in that neck of the woods."

"Step on it.  Can’t get to that chopper soon enough."

"Ninety miles per hour, Chief.  Aye, aye."

Geoff was on fire when he stumbled out of the wreckage.  Glenn’s coat was on fire, and her coat was still on him.  Geoff dropped it as he cleared the porch.  She was behind him, with the inferno behind her.  She felt its breath on her hindquarters as the cottage disintegrated.

"I couldn’t find him," Geoff said, choking.  "I tried.  You know."

He kept blinking at what remained of Misty Mount Cabin Number One.  Then, he turned away.  Glenn took his hand.

"You’re burned."

"I was feeling around on one of the bunks when a beam fell.  I was lucky to get away without being pinned underneath.  I don’t think he’s in there.  I think I would have found him if he was."

"We’ve got to do something.  Which way out of here?"

Glenn inspected the red and black skid mark that crossed the back of his hand from knuckles to wrist.  The skin was beginning to blister.  Geoff pointed toward the other end of the clearing.

"There’s a stream down there.  We can follow it to the road on the other side."

Glenn retrieved the remains of her coat, and wrapped them around her shoulders.  Rain was falling in unrelenting sheets.  The umbrella of branches and twigs sheltered them slightly.  They found a cool mountain stream, the kind of crystal water you see in beer commercials.  Geoff plunged his hand in, and had his breath stolen away.  He yanked his hand out, and cradled it in his arm.

"Woo!"

Glenn looked around.  The air was thick with wood smoke, which used to be a pleasant fragrance to her.  She took a deep breath, and let it escape as steam through her teeth.

They hiked downhill, down to where rivers meet the ocean, down to where everyone goes to meet his destiny.  Down to the sea in ships.  Down to the sound of sirens.  Geoff’s head came up, and he stared hard toward the horizon.  Fire engines.  Glenn’s head swirled with the sound of it.  Rescue.  Men in shiny rubber boots and fire hats.  Heroes with hoses and hatchets.  Her Dalmatian heart stirred, and she sank to her knees.  Geoff stood beside her, rumpling her hair.  Safe.  Safe at last.

They staggered on toward a strip of highway where it met the rivulet at a trench.  A white and yellow vehicle screamed past with red lights pulsating like popping corn.  It was followed by a fire truck.  By the time they reached the roadside, all the action was up at the cabin.

"You want to hike back up?" she asked.

"We could wait here and flag them down on the way back."

"We should tell them about Dave.  Maybe it’s not too late."

Geoff set his jaw, and nodded.  They went less than fifty yards when they heard a motor behind them.  Geoff stopped, and turned.  Glenn kept plodding uphill.

"It’s a van.  I don’t believe it."  The cloud lifted from Geoff’s face. "Hey!"  He waved his hands over his head.  "Our luck is changing.  It’s Terry."

"Terry?  Is there anyone in the tri-state area youdon’t know?"

A white van stopped in the middle of the road.  Glenn could see the side panel.  There was a picture of a peacock, and blue block letters that read WHAG 25 ALIVE.  A news truck.  If there was anything more wonderful than a fire engine it was the sight of a news van.  It made Glenn’s heart ache.

A man leaped from the driver’s side.  He was wearing an asbestos coat with strips of yellow reflecting tape on the cuffs.  His brown hair was swept over his forehead in a bang which he ran his hand through to get a good look at Geoff.  He came swinging toward them with the wiry gait of a man in his early twenties.

"Holy smoke, dude!"

"Smoke is right," Geoff said.  "But, there ain’t nothing holy about it."

The man whistled.  "What happened to you?  Let’s get you to the rescue squad."

"Glenn, this is Terry Reeder.  An old friend," Geoff said.  "And, a sight for sore eyes."

Glenn said, "Hello, Terry."

"Hi.  Come on, and help me get Geoffrey inside."

"I can walk," Geoff said.  "Think it would be all right if we got in back?"

"Just mind your feet so you don’t wreck my stuff."

Geoff started to laugh.  He doubled over, and laughed so hard they had to help him inside.

Terry asked Glenn, "What’s so funny?  Did I miss something?"

"I think he’s hysterical."

"Hysterical," Geoff said.  "It is hysterical.  Look at you.  Two of a kind."  He lay down on the floor of the panel truck, held his stomach, and shook with laughter.

Glenn shrugged. "I’ll sit back here with him."

Terry drove, glancing over his shoulder at them.  Geoff sat up, wiping away tears with his sleeve.  Terry again asked what happened.

"You won’t believe it, Ter, but the CIA just tried to bump us off."

Terry slammed his foot on the brake.  The rear of the van fishtailed.  Terry turned in his seat, and stared at him.

"Why?"

Geoff pointed at Glenn.  "She knows something.  We don’t know what she knows, but they don’t want anybody else knowing."

Terry turned to Glenn.  "There’s a story here."

Geoff said, "You have no idea."

Terry looked at Geoff.  "How’re you feeling?"

"Nothing fatal."

Terry looked at Glenn.  "Feel like talking?  How about telling me your story?"

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes.  Hell, yes!  We need a reporter.  No, just a talking head.  I point the camera at you, and you tell me what happened.  First, we need a backdrop.  The fire.  Of course.  It’s perfect."  Terry put the van back in gear.  "I’ll get the fire footage.  I’m picturing I’ll do a rack shot.  You stand in front of the fire.  I fade out on the fire as I bring you into focus.  This isn’t too technical for you, is it?"

Geoff started laughing again.  "Birds of a feather."

"No," Glenn said, grinning.  "You’re not being too technical."

"What’s so funny?  Tell me the joke."

"The joke is," said Geoff, "you’re talking to yourself."

Glenn said, "My name is Glenn Prentiss.  I’m a photojournalist.  I guess that’s what started all this."

"Yeah," said Geoff.  "Do me a favor.  Do you have someplace you can stash her for a while?"

"I knew it," Terry said.  "I knew there was a story here."

"And," said Glenn, "it’s an exclusive."

Terry nodded.  "Yeah, I can stash you.  Hell, yes, you better believe I can stash you."  He stepped on the brakes again, and did a U-turn.

"What about your fire?" Glenn asked.

"This is much hotter.  This story is going to generate some serious heat.  I can fell it."

Glenn nodded.  She could feel it, too.  She was a journalist, somebody who by her very nature was a hunter.  The blood lust was rising in her.  Adrenaline was pumping, and her senses were singing.  Every nerve in her body was as taut as a string on a Stradivarius, and it came to her with uncanny clarity just exactly what had to be done.

"Hey, Terry?" she said.  "Do you have a CB radio in this thing?"

Sadie Cozzoli was in the driver’s seat.  Her partner slouched on the passenger side, rubbing the back of his neck.  Sadie scowled at him, sickened by his lack of professionalism.  What she wouldn’t give to have Pip here.  That was the original plan: work the case, bag the bad guys, and celebrate while the liquor of victory was coursing through her veins.  This gorilla, however, this lower primate, all he was capable of was bullying and boasting with no finesse whatsoever.  He even made love like an ape.

She looked at his hairy knuckles, and remembered how disgusting it was to be pawed by him.  Glenn Prentiss had to die, there was no getting around it, but she didn’t have to be subjected to that.  It was so like Sullivan to treat sex as an act of vengeance.  He was greed without passion, need without desire, hunger with no palate.  Now Pip, bless his heart, was a connoisseur.  Being with him had been more wonderful than she’d imagined.  Sadie remembered the succulence of his mouth, the completeness when he entangled himself between her thighs.  She’d lost herself in him.  He was the first man who understood her.  Her equal.  A man who couldn’t be bought, who refused to tradeher body for hissoul .

I’ll get you back.  When this is all over, we’ll be together again.  Forgive me for hurting you, and be mine again.

She concentrated on the curve in the road ahead.  "That was really stupid, Sullivan.  I don’t know why I even listened to you.  Putting Anderson in the cabin.  This is much better.  We’ll put him behind the wheel, and make it look as ifhe was the rogue agent.  We’ll use his sidearm, and make it look like suicide."

"Like we did with Bleetz," Sullivan said.

"Hopefully, I’ll do a better job than you and Ginsberg.  Honestly!  A bathtub accident?  Couldn’t you come up with anything better than that?"

"It worked, didn’t it?"

"It worked at raising interest at headquarters, which was the last thing I needed.  Then, you botched it again out in front of Singleton’s.  I thought you guys were professionals."

"That’s why you hired us.  Kept your little hands clean, didn’t we?"

"No.  Otherwise we wouldn’t be here now, would we?"

Sadie reinforced her grip on the steering wheel.

"Hey, Cozzoli?  You sure there aren’t any other witnesses?"

"Hey, genius, look in your rear view mirror.  See that forest fire?  All your troubles just went up in smoke."

"What about Pippin?  He’s not stupid."

"No,he’s not stupid.  But, heis loyal.  That’s not something a merc like you would know about, but trust me.  He’ll believe what I tell him."

"Why would he?"

"Don’t be so dense.  He’ll believe me because hewants to.  All I’ve got to do is sell him a story that is believable."

"You better watch the way you talk to me, Miss Priss."

"Shut up!  I’m trying to think."

"Sorry.  Didn’t know thinkin’ was so hard for you," Sullivan said.

"No, I don’t suppose you know much aboutthinkin’ , do you?"

"If it wasn’t for all your thinking, Ginsberg would be alive now, and not on some slab in a federal morgue."

"Don’t youdare blame me for that.  It was a brilliant plan: tap into their communications so we’d know where the pickup was, show up at the Correspondents Arch, and neutralize everyone at once.  Nice and simple.  Ginsberg is dead, because Ginsberg screwed up.  If I’d been on that bike I’d have gotten the job done just like that."  She snapped her fingers.

"Well, I wish it had been you," Sullivan said.

"Well, well, I certainly can’t count on you.  Why do I have to be the one to do everything?"

"You?  I’m the one who got the getaway car."

"About that, it isn’t traceable, is it?"

"No.  If there’s anything I know about, it’s stealing cars," he said.

"You know about carjacking housewives, and old ladies.  You don’t know anything about outsmarting a team of determined investigators."

"No, that’s your job."

"Finally, something we agree on.  Listen, this is very important.  When I shoot Anderson, he has to bleed.  You understand that, don’t you?"

"No."

She bit her tongue, and counted to five.  "If the wound isn’t messy, if the blood isalready clotted , that means he was deadbefore the gun was fired.  That’s the first thing forensics looks for with a gunshot wound.  Why am I bothering to explain this to you?  What I need to know is when you put him in the back of the limo, he was still breathing, wasn’t he?  Please tell me he’s still alive."

"Whoa, hold on.  The lane is just up here, around the corner."

"You didn’t kill him, did you?"

"No, he’s sleeping like a baby back there.  Unless you OD-ed him with your syringe."

"Don’t worry about me, Slick.  If there’s anything I know about it’s how to ride the White Horse without being thrown."

Sullivan stared at her a moment.  "Yeah, I guess you would."

"Right now he’s a lot happier than either of us."

She guided the car left onto a narrow lane that started out paved before becoming gravel, then dirt, and ending in a thicket of scrub pine and dogwood.  Sullivan pointed out the windshield.

"You can’t tell from this angle, but right past those trees is a fire pond."

"So?"  Sadie took the limo out of gear, and turned off the ignition.

"The car is on the other side of the pond.  That way, no tire tracks from two vehicles.  You only see where this one pulled in, and stopped."

"Did you think of that yourself?"

"Of course.  I also got a canoe tied up on this side."

"All that’s left is to get Agent Dave up here, and conclude our business."

Sadie dragged herself out of the car.  She was very tired.  Maybe it was too little sleep, or too much action, or maybe she was feeling the soul soreness that accompanied the termination of a fellow agent. There’s got to be a better way to make a living , she thought to herself, and stretched her back.  The sun was beginning its descent behind the trees, and she was anxious to be finished with this nastiness.

Wait for me, Pip my sweet, I’ll be home soon.  She pictured his face, and wondered what he’d say when he saw her again.  He was gonna be pissed, no doubt about that.  But, only at first.  It gave her an erotic thrill as she fantasized coaxing the forgiveness out of him.  He wouldn’t stay angry for long.  Her lips curled into a smile as she plotted her seduction, focusing on that instead of the task ahead.  She looked at Sullivan, and her spirits sank.

"Let’s go over it one more time.  You put him in the front seat.  Put his pistol in his hand, and shoot me in the leg.  Theleg ," she said.  "Here, on the outer thigh.  No, better yet, wing me.  That’ll make a better story.  I’ll say he drew, but I grabbed his arm in time to deflect the angle away from my heart.  He fired, and I had no choice but to shoot back, inflicting a mortal wound to the temple."

"Can we justdo this?"

"Don’t mess this up, Sullivan.  It’s my life we’re talking about."

"What do you think, I’m going to miss, and shoot you dead?"

"You better not.  If I die, so does your alibi.  If this works, it ends here.  I not only keep my job, but I get another commendation.  You pick up an envelope full of dead presidents, and once again the citizens of this country sleep safe in the cradle of freedom none the worse for the wear."

Sullivan scowled, and opened his mouth.  The car radio bristled.

"Breaker, breaker.  Mobile Two.  Mobile Two?  Come in Cozzoli.  Agent Cozzoli, if you’ve got your ears on you’d better come back."

Sadie felt fear wrap around her like a dry cleaning bag.  For a moment she was unable to breathe.

"Mobile Two?  I’m not kidding, Cozzoli.  I just came back from the dead, and I’m in no mood for your games.  Answer me, or I’m going to your boss.  He’d be real interested in our little bonfire."

Sadie picked up the phone.  "Breaker.  Mobile Two here."

"Well, hello.  Nice to hear from you.  I knew you were out there."

Sadie recognized the voice.  She’d heard it over the phone lines, on wire taps, in person.

"Identify yourself.  Over."

"Honey, before I’m through with you, you’re gonna think I’m the devil himself.  This is Prentiss, Glenn Prentiss."

Sadie put her lips close to the receiver.  "Where are you, you little cockroach?  Tell me where you are."

"Temper, temper."

"I’ll come, and get you," Sadie said.  "You must be very frightened.  Give me your coordinates, and I’ll bring you in from the cold."

"Ha.  When you say you’re going to warm somebody up, you’re not fooling.  I’ve got no desire to be vindictive.  I just want to go on about my life, same as you.  It just occurred to me that we could maybe help each other to do that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen carefully.  I’ve got a proposition for you."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don’t," Glenn said.  "Oh, yeah, Over."

24

Geoff was the first to say it.  "This whole idea is insane."

"I don’t see you coming up with anything," Glenn said.

"You’re crazy."

Terry said, "Crazy like a fox, dude."

Geoff slumped down in the back of the van behind the driver’s seat.  "Sure,you love the idea, Terry.  You’re as nutty as she is."

Glenn said, "Look, Sadie has somethingI want, and I have somethingshe wants."

"And, you think she’ll trade Dave for the videotape?" Geoff asked.

"She said she would," Glenn said.

"And, you believe her?  It’s not as if she’d fudge the truth."  Geoff covered his face with his hands.  "She swears that Dave is alive, and you believe her."

Glenn turned in her seat, and looked at him.  "You have to get over this fixation with the truth."

"Try to focus," Geoff said.  "You don’thave any tapes."

"Terry will supply some bogus tapes, and I’ll tell her I’m keeping the CD as insurance.  By the time she figures it out, we’ll have Dave back."

"Dead or alive?"

"Well, we don’t know that yet, do we?  My hunch is he’s alive, or she wouldn’t have made the deal."

Geoff clenched both fists.  "She made the deal to lure us into the open so she could kill us.  Again.  Am I the only one here who’s figured that out?  She’s lying!"

"It doesn’t matter if she’s lying.  That’s the ingenious part of this plan.  Terry’s going to film the exchange for the 11:00 news."

Geoff threw up his hands, and turned away.  Terry fished some tapes from a Campbell’s tomato soup carton.

"You know what I loved?" Terry said.  "That you insisted on getting your camera back.  When you threw that in as a deal-breaker, I could tell you had her attention.  You could hear the wheels turning, wondering if there was something she missed, why it was so important to you."

Geoff sniffed.  "She should have asked me.  I could have told her."

"Stop pouting."  Glenn shuffled to the back of the van.  "Terry?  Go ahead to the Battlefield.  We need some time alone."

"We’ll go in the front way," Terry said.  "I’ll drop you guys by the Bridge.  Then, I’ll hike through the woods to the other side.  This is gonna be so sweet."

For some reason, Glenn was no longer afraid of Cozzoli, or her thug.  They merely presented a threat to life and limb.  Geoff, however, was a risk to her heart and soul.  She knelt in front of him.

"I won’t do this if you tell me not to."

"Don’t do it," Geoff said, without looking up.

"Okay."

"Just like that?  You’ve set up this exchange on Burnside Bridge with a CIA agent.  You’ve got a TV reporter taping the whole thing—lights, camera, action—and you’re going to give that up?  You’dnever do that.  Not in a million years."

"If you tell me to, I will.  In a minute."

"You’ve never turned down a story in your life."

"That was when the story was the most important thing in my life.  Maybe my priorities are changing.  That’s supposed to be a good thing, the ability to change.  You know what Darwin said, ‘adapt or die’."

"You’re lying," he said.

"Then, look in my eyes."

"You’re not afraid of what I’ll see?  You know you can’t hide your lies from me."

"I know that," she said.  "Any more than I can’t hide the truth."

Wayne Younkins’ favorite meal was fried chicken, and a six-pack of Bud.  In Wayne’sRules of the Road , he liked his chicken the way he liked his ‘chicks’: hot and tender, and don’t even bother with anything but legs and breasts.  He liked his beer the way he liked his women: strong and cheap.  And, he liked recreation the way he liked sex: the more dangerous the better.  Any conversation with him about religion ended with, ‘Heaven would be serving a life sentence in a women’s prison’.  Wayne said he knew God was going to honor his request because they had such a close personal relationship.  They spent a lot of time together—with Wayne flying into trouble, and God bailing him out.  That’s why he never,ever took the Lord’s name in vain.

"You don’t use your best friend’s name as a cuss word."

Wayne’s Rule number 6.

Wayne had his ‘adventure throttle’ all the way open: hang gliding, acrobatic skiing, sky diving.  Some said he had a death wish.  They called him a wild man.  He was all that, and much more, including the best pilot Justin Knight had ever known, with a ‘take no prisoners’ attitude.  He didn’t ask for explanations, just destinations.  And, this was just that kind of operation.  Justin knew he couldn’t have asked for a better man.

The aircraft was another matter.  Justin could never get used to the ‘bug mobile’.  Wayne called it that because it was a crop-duster.  Justin called it that because the helicopter reminded him of a dragonfly with a gland condition.  He climbed inside the Plexiglas bubble, and balanced on a seat with a spring under the middle like a horsy on a playground.  Wayne shut the plastic door, and ran around to the pilot’s side.  Justin was trying to find a place to hold on, when the chopper buzzed to life.  Wayne grabbed the joystick, and gave the thumbs-up.  Justin took a deep breath, and returned the gesture.

Glenn was familiar with granite monuments and souvenir gift shops of battlefields.  But, the magnificent shimmering spectacle that met her eye at Antietam Battlefield was completely unexpected.  Geoff explained about the luminaries, how each of the candles flickering inside the white paper lanterns represented a soul who was lost on that day.  They were all around her as far as the eye could see.  They lined the driveway, and sprouted in clusters on the lawn.  They gleamed like a thousand fallen stars, lighting the way on a dark, and dismal day.  Artistically, the scene had visual impact, like city lights against a midnight skyline or crystal icicles on a bare black branch.  And, the very notion that each light symbolized a human being that was bursting with the vitality of youthful promise until a bullet or a bayonet snuffed it out, was more than she could stand.  Where the grisly sight of corpses, and carnage had made her dull and hard, this elegant testimony to the heroic sacrifice of valiant warriors made her heart swell.

Geoff put his arm around her. "It takes a while to get them all lit."

"They’d have to do it individually by hand, wouldn’t they?"

"They get volunteers.  Veterans, school kids..."

"School kids.  That’s morbid."

"But a great way to teach children about the true cost of war."

She looked at him.  "You did it, didn’t you?"

"In eighth grade.  Bobby was in high school, and it wasn’t cool, but he did it anyway.  That year it was so bitter cold those with good sense didn’t come out.  One old guy had a heart attack, and died right beside the road.  Massive coronary.  We were on the other side of the battlefield.  Of course, we told everybody we saw it.  High school kids thought that was pretty neat."

"You’re going to have to explain male logic to me someday."

"Not male logic, dear.  Girls swarmed around Bobby like bees around a honeycomb.  Bobby had an interesting perspective on that.  He maintained that there’s something carnivorous about women, that there’s a little praying mantis in all of you.  He didn’t mean it in a bad way.  Women just seem to instinctively understand the intricacies of life and death better than we do, maybe because they bear children.  Men are genuinely surprised by death, especially their own."

Terry drove past the Visitors Center, past the prickly hedge of yew bushes, and silent cannons.  Ancient, flat-topped mountains lounged in the west behind a tower of fieldstones with a red, peaked roof.  Glenny watched through freckles of rain on the window, as solemn acolytes wended their way through the dusk.  They moved slowly, shoulders sagging, faces glowing in the reflected glory of torchlight.

"That’s why I brought you here," Terry said.  "It’s public without being too, you know...public.  When it gets dark, a procession of cars will pass through.  They’ll keep you company while you transact your business.  Might keep anyone from getting trigger happy.  Not to mention the wonderful background lighting."

Glenn turned to Terry.  "It’s time to talk film."

Wayne Younkins said a ‘thunderhead’ was the most destructive force known to pilots.  In the fifteen years Justin Knight had known him, he’d seen him gleefully risk his neck for the sport of it.  Wayne had a habit of leaping into danger with a grin and wink.  Now he was pointing to the slate gray curtain of cloud ahead.

"Whoa buddy, I hate to tell you what that baby would do to a chopper like this."

It looked harmless, almost beautiful to Justin.  "What do we do?  Go over it?"

Wayne stared at him.  "We go down.  And, stay down until it passes over."

Electrical energy pulsated behind the curtain.  "I don’t think I heard you."

"You heard me."

The small chopper wasn’t like some other aircraft.  There were virtually no vibrations, no cross currents creating drag, resistance or wind shear.  It was like riding in an elevator—up, down, sideways.  Rotor blades whirled overhead, squeaking like a pump handle.  Other than that—and the growl of thunder—the cockpit was calm.

"I’ve seen you navigate through storms, hurricanes, even blizzards.  There’s no bigger daredevil on the East Coast than you."

"So, what does that tell you?  If it was navigable, I’d take you through it.  It just ain’t."

"If I had time for fair weather, I’d wait it out.  I just ain’t."

"Sorry about your luck.  We’ll set down in that field over there."

"I don’t think you heard me."  Justin faced Wayne.  "This is going to sound like a cliché, but it’s a matter of life and death."

"I hear you, pard.  Nothing I can do.  Old Man Upstairs is in charge of weather."

Justin paused.  "Let me ask you this.  Has anyone ever flown through one of these thunderheads, and lived to tell about it?"

"You hear people bragging, but that’s all it is," Wayne said.

"Wouldn’t you like to be the first?" Justin asked.

"I’m not fooling, man.  It’s like putting your face in a Cuinsinart."

"I’m not fooling either.  Find a way.  If you can’t go through it, go around."

"Man, if I didn’t know better I’d think you had a hot babe waiting for you on the other side."

"Wayne, I’ll level with you.  There’s a fight brewing between two of the most impressive women I ever met in my career.  And, one of them works for me.  The whole thing is a bureaucratic nightmare, so I’ve got to get it resolved as quickly, and quietly as I can."

"I figured there was something extremely ‘unofficial’ about this, which is why you needed me.  And, I also figured there was women in it somewhere for you to be carrying on like this.  Two of ‘em, huh?  Are they pretty?"

"What difference does it make?"

"You are pitiful if you don’t know that.  So what are we?  Like riding to the rescue or something?"

"What difference does it make to your thunderhead?  If it can’t be done, it can’t be done."

Wayne laughed his wheezy laugh, and scanned his instrument panel.  "If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way."

"Absolutely.  Is it going to be a rough ride?"  Justin tried to find a handhold.

Wayne looked sideways at him.  "Rough ride?"  He winked, and grinned.  "Brother, you have no idea."

Due to flood stage conditions, access to Burnside Bridge is restricted to Park Personnel.  By order of the DNR.  The magic-marker words were scrawled on plywood, and attached to a sawhorse.  It was connected to another sawhorse by a yellow streamer like the police use at crime scenes.  This one said ‘construction site’, and sagged in the middle.  Glenn looked at Geoff.

"DNR?"

"Department of Natural Resources," Geoff said.

"Like Park Rangers?  Then, this is more of a suggestion than an order."

"I wouldn’t say that.  They have badges and guns."

"And, Smoky the Bear hats.  Listen, I survived the PLO in Beirut, and the AFIB, and CIA.  I even had a nasty encounter with AT&T about a difference of opinion about billing.  I’m not worried about nature cops who guard squirrels for a living."

Glenn stepped over the warning strip.  Geoff paused, like he was waiting for an alarm to go off.  When it didn’t, he followed.  Glenn felt jittery, like she’d gargled with espresso.  She proceeded past the signpost to the Georgians Overlook, and down the steps to the forbidden riverside path.  There was another warning—which they also ignored—at the banks of the muddy, swirling mass.  Glenn looked across it to a field of russet gold, which faded to gray as she watched.  They crossed the footbridge.  She looked over the thick stone wall at the water below.  It wasn’t a far drop, about fifteen feet, but the speed with which the Little Antietam moved made her feel as if the whole earth was passing beneath her feet.  A force of nature.  Glenn joined Geoff already on the other side, anxious to put that force to use as a barrier between her and Sadie.

Geoff said, "If I were them, I’d surround us.  Send that big guy around in those trees where Ter’s supposed to be while Sadie keeps us distracted here."

"What do you think he’d do to Ter if he found him?"

Geoff shrugged.  "Why are you doing this, anyway, risking your life for Dave?"

"You know my motto, ‘There are no strangers, just friends who haven’t met yet’."

"Oh, sure, that sounds exactly like you.  Didn’t you embroider that on a pillow case once?"

"Actually, on a tea cozy.  I don’t know why, but I took a liking to Dave, and I owe him my life.  Besides, I’m sure that guy at the cabin is the same one who knifed you at Shane’s, and they’re probably the ones who killed Phil.  Maybe I’m doing it for Phil.  Maybe I’m doing it for Bobby.  Maybe I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do, or because as long as Agent Cozzoli’s on the loose I’ll have to keep looking over my shoulder.  The only one who seems to have a hope of stopping her is Justin Knight.  But, he’s got no reason to take my word over hers.  We’ve got to get proof, get her on film."

"Do you think Knight got the distress call you sent out on the CB?"

"Terry said he’d be monitoring on his headset.  Tell me something, out of curiosity.  When you were a history major in college, did you study battles of the Civil War?  I mean, if something goes wrong, do you know a way out of here?"

"Thousands didn’t make it out of here.  They don’t call it Bloody Lane for nothing.  But, my dad made us come here for reenactments.  I think I could find my way out of here with my eyes closed."

"Or, in the dark."  Glenn peered over the hill on the other side of the bridge, where the luminaries were glowing with the pastel fire of a false sun.

"Man, I wish I’d thought to take that gun with us when we switched cars with Gramp."  Geoff paced in one direction, and then another, then stood with his hands on his hips.  "If anything happens, I want you to hide under the bridge.  Be careful you don’t get too close to the water.  Get as close as you can, and wait until it’s safe to come out."

"What about you?"

"I’ll go across the field.  There’s a road on the other side of the woods.  I’ll flag down help.  There must be 200 cars here tonight.  You stand over there, and I’ll stand over here.  That way we’ll have some distance between us.  If things go badly, you go that way, and I’ll go this way."

A drizzle settled in.  Glenn felt the chill soak into her clothes as she huddled against the stones at the end of the footbridge.  During the drive to Sharpsburg, Geoff had told her the history of the battle.  The Yankees came down from Harper’s Ferry as Robert E. Lee’s Army made a push into northern territory, to get across the Mason-Dixon line into Pennsylvania.  Ambrose Burnside was under the impression that Lee’s forces outnumbered his own, and proceeded cautiously.  Had he known that the Confederate troops were fragmented, and exhausted he could have advanced over the Little Antietam to victory.  The Great Conflict could have ended many months, and lives, sooner.  His dawdling gave Lee hours to amass, and wait for reinforcements.  Burnside sent sorties across the bridge, instead of going a hundred yards downstream where they could have forded.  Sharpshooters stationed on the opposite hill, now called Georgians Overlook, cut down thousands of Union soldiers.  The thing that salvaged the effort from unmitigated disaster was whiskey.  The tea-totaling Burnside was the only general in either army who refused to issue his men their whiskey rations.  As the afternoon dragged by, a call went out for volunteers to foray into the line of fire.  One soldier cried out, ‘Will you give us our whiskey, then?’  Assured that he would, the Pennsylvania unit immediately charged as one man, and routed the enemy in minutes.

Never underestimate the power of positive drinking.

Some events were too sober to face without liquid courage.  Sometimes ordinary men needed an anesthetic to blunt the edge of fear and pain.  Sometimes ordinary women had to confront destiny with nothing, but a clear head and unclouded judgment.  And faith.

I need a drink.

"Pst."

Glenn looked across the river at the shadows moving down the path.  The hair on the back of her neck bristled.  She wet her lips, and glanced at Geoff.

"You ready?"

"Lights," he answered, "Camera..."

Action?  Not yet.  I’m not ready.  I’m gonna die.  We’re gonna die.

Shadow and shape formed at the opposite end of the bridge.  Two figures materialized.  Glenn wished for a more concrete strategy than the one she’d put into play.  Somehow she’d thought once she was in the thick of it her instincts would kick in, and she’d know exactly what to do.  It had always worked in the past.

What would Burnside do?

No, she could never identify with a man whose major contribution to America was providing the appellation for facial hair known as ‘sideburns’.  Better to emulate someone more like herself, the boozy Ulysses S. Grant.  What would Grant do?  Why didn’t she pay more attention to U.S. Studies in school?

Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to...

"I don’t see her," Geoff said.  "Agent Cozzoli.  Where is she?"

A male voice called out, "Here’s your friend."

"Send him across," Glenn called.

"You send over the tapes."

Red rover, red rover, send David over.

"They’ll start over when he does.  I’ll leave them in the middle."

"If you don’t, I’ll shoot both of you."

Geoff said, "Be careful."

Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.  That wasn’t U.S. Grant.  What was General Grant famous for saying? Make mine a double .

Glenn saw a silhouette wobble toward her, holding onto the stone wall.  She began the incline toward the center of the bridge.

"Stop," Sullivan said.  "Let’s see the tapes."

Glenn pulled the cassettes from the inside pockets of her scorched, coat and waved them over her head.  She glanced at the figure to her right.  It was Dave.  He blinked vacantly, and grinned like a lunatic.  It was the first glimmer of hope she’d had in a long time.  Maybe this crazy scheme was going to work after all.   She stacked the tapes atop each other on the waist-high bridge shelf.

"Where’s the CD?" Sullivan called.

Glenn spoke to Dave in a low tone.  "Keep going."  When he resumed his sleepwalk, she called, "Where’s my camera?"

An object landed heavily several yards ahead.

"Now the CD."

"I don’t have it," she yelled.

"Don’t mess with me!"

Panic seized her in the middle of her gut.  "It’s with a friend, with a message I videotaped.  I have an hour to get back before duplicates are sent to WMAL in Baltimore, WJLA in Washington, and WHAG in Hagerstown.  Every TV station in a hundred-mile radius will be broadcasting that as their lead story during the morning news."

"You’re bluffing."

"Did you think I’d show up here without insurance?  I’ll contact you through the personals the day after Christmas."  Glenn tried to think of something clever to say.  "I’m going back now, and you can come get these tapes."

Get ‘em while they’re hot.

She turned her back on the gunman.  If he was going to shoot it would be now.  She listened for the shot, but all she heard was the river marching under her.

Do you hear it first, or feel it? Probably hits you like a sledgehammer between the shoulder blades, and then you fall forward.

Dave crumbled to the ground in front of her.  Glenn wondered why Geoff made no effort to help.  She looked for him.  Instead, she saw  Sadie Cozzoli moving with stealth and speed.

"Freeze!" she cried, dancing around Dave.

Glenn froze, and watched Sadie advance.  Sadie’s right hand pointed a gun, her left hand supported the butt.  Her arms raised to shoulder level.  Glenn wondered why her life wasn’t passing before her eyes.  She also wondered why Agent Cozzoli wasn’t slowing down.

"CIA!" Sadie shouted.  "Drop your weapon!"

In that split second, with the roar of a dragon, fire vomited from the mouth of her gun.

25

Sadie shot three times.

Bang Bang Bang!

Glenn fell back on the stone wall, covering her ears.  It took four seconds—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—to realize she wasn’t shot.  Her gaze followed the path of the bullets.  The gunman lay on his back, toes pointed skyward.  That’s all Glenn could see, the soles of Sullivan’s size twelve's.  Then, Sadie turned toward her.

"Give me the tapes."

Glenn jerked back her elbow, sending the top tape spinning into space.  It took to the air like a Frisbee, sailing out several yards, then succumbed to gravity.  Glenn watched as it splashed into the river.  She turned back to Sadie.

"I’m so sorry."

"Back off."

Glenn moved away from the remaining tape.

"For your sake, you better hope this one has enough on it to incriminate him," Sadie said.  "This one is from the bathroom?"

Glenn nodded automatically.  If Sadie wanted it to be from the bathroom, it was from the bathroom.

"You viewed this yourself?  You saw him do it?" Sadie asked.

Glenn kept nodding, and backing up.  Then, she stopped.  The murder of Phil Bleetz.  Bathroom.  Incriminate him.  Just like that, she was inside Sadie Cozzoli’s mind.  She knew why the tapes had tempted her into the open, and why she had shot her partner.  This had never been about foreign terrorists, or military tactics, or even political necessity.  This was a simple case of murder for hire, like the Mafia.  Sure, Phil, poor chump, had blundered into this with sinister motives.  But, that’s not why he died.  Sadie had eliminated him because she had no further use for him.  He was disposable.  Come to think of it, so were they.  And, just like that, Glenn knew she was going to be killed trying to escape.  All of them were. Nobody gets out of here alive .

"I still have the CD," she said.

"What?"

"Phil made a copy for himself.  That’s Phil for you.  As greedy as the day is long.  You’re right, you never would have gotten rid of him.  Your partner there had to waste him.  But, he didn’t find the CD, did he?  That’s because Phil kept it in his car, along with the audio tapes he made of his phone conversations."

Sadie didn’t know that.  Glenn saw it in her eyes.

"We have those, too. Well, wehad them, but Justin Knight took them out of the car while you and I were playing cat and mouse.  I didn’t have a chance to listen to them.  You weren’t on any of them, were you?"  Glenn saw Sadie’s uncertainty.  "He didn’t get the CD, though.  It wound up under the seat of the car.  I’ll give it to you, or you could keep your fingers crossed, and hope it doesn’t surface.  You might be able to get Knight to buy the notion that your partner did this on his own.  Thatis your plan, isn’t it?  Blame everything on him?  He’s in no condition to contradict you."

"And you, Miss Prentiss, were kind enough to provide a cameraman to record the entire event for the evening news."

"You mean he’s still alive?"

"For now.  I have to take care of you first, and then your boyfriend.  He ran off and left you, you know."

"I know.  He’s gone to get help."

"Too bad he’ll be too late."

"So, it doesn’t bother you that incriminating evidence is circulating out there somewhere?"

"Not really.  Having a bull’s eye on my back helps keep me on my toes."  Sadie moved her gun to her left hand, and reached her right hand into her pocket.  "I’ll take my chances."

"You’ll have to catch me first."

Glenn spun on her heel and ran. Faster than a speeding bullet ?  Glenn counted on Sadie’s reluctance to have her riddled with bullets.  She also counted on speed, luck, and the darkness of the evening.  It wasn’t a plan.  It was a reflex.

Justin Knight’s voice rose in choppy syllables.  "How can you see in this?  Turn on the lights."

Wayne laughed.  "Get serious.  Nobody dusts crops at night."

"Don’t tell me we came all this way to be stopped now."

"Grab that spotlight behind you.  Behind the seat.  Jammed underneath."

Justin got on his hands and knees, and found the metal cylinder wedged under his seat.  It looked like an old theatrical spot.  He jiggled it loose.  Wayne told him to access the electrical system on the dashboard.  He found the end of a twisted mess of wires and pushed what looked like headphone plug into what looked like a car cigarette lighter.

"How do you manage to fly at all?"

"On a wing and a prayer, pard.  On a wing and a prayer."

"Hey, look.  What’s that up ahead?"

"Should be the Visitors Center," Wayne said.

"Can you get me to Burnside Bridge?"

"I can get you near it, to a parking lot."

Justin knelt in the nose of the Plexiglas, and held the spotlight steady with his knees.  "Just get me as close as you can."

"Roger that.  Hang on."

Wayne started singing the refrain ofBorn to Be Wild , and banked the chopper into a right turn.

Glenn grabbed for the edge of the wall, and slingshot around the end of the bridge.  The sod along the riverbank cushioned her steps as she sprang lightly across the grass until a tuft rose up out of nowhere, snagging her toe.  Down she went, hard and fast.  Sadie landed on top of her, and yanked her arm behind her.  It brought a rush ofdéja vu .  Last time she’d danced this dance Sadie zapped her with a taser.  Now she was soaked through.  Another jolt would stop her heart for sure.  Or, maybe Sadie would just go ahead, and put a bullet in her.  Suddenly, a broken arm didn’t seem so bad.

Glenn screamed, and writhed in agony.  Sadie ground her knee into her back, and applied more pressure.  Glenn felt herself being dragged toward the water’s edge.  The harder she fought, the more ground she lost.  Sadie had Glenn’s incapacitated arm in one hand, and a fistful of hair in the other, as they inched closer to the roar of the sprawling Antietam.  Glenn managed to get to her knees.  By that time her head felt like a yo-yo.  Sadie snapped the string again, bringing Glenn to her feet for half a second.  Then, Sadie rolled her over her hip in a judo move, took her head in both hands, and plunged Glenn shoulder-deep, into the raging river.

The DNR was right.  Its power was unfathomable.  Where Glenn alone was unable to break free, as soon as the river got a hold of her, they combined forces.  Sadie tried to hold on long enough to finish the job.  She waded in to reinforce her hold.  Glenn wrapped her feet around Sadie’s knees, and then the river had them both.  Water swirled around them, peeling them from the riverbank.  Glenn spewed mud, and blinked droplets from her lashes.

Sadie was less than an arm’s length away, dragging herself to shore.  Glenn reached for her, and felt the fabric of Sadie’s coat float past her fingertips.  She made a lunge for it, and captured it between the first two fingers of her right hand.  Then, she got her left hand around it, and pulled herself closer.  The extreme cold of the water drained the warmth from Glenn’s body.  She watched Sadie deliberately shrug her arm out of her coat sleeve.  The material billowed on top for a moment, like a canvas sail from a scuttled boat.  Sadie prepared to remove her other sleeve, leaving Glenn clinging to a useless shred of cloth.  Through a rainbow of colored lights Glenn squinted to see Justin Knight appear on shore.  His foot came down on Sadie’s hand, grinding it into the dirt, anchoring her like a human pier.

"Take my hand," he called, above the churning of water.

Light was everywhere.  Searing, blinding light.  It shot arrows into Glenn’s brain.  At first she thought it must be the near-death ‘tunnel’.  But, there was no sweet music, or radiant emanations of peace and joy.  There was chaos and noise, everything Glenn loved about life, and she was drawn toward it.

The pull of the river was strong.  Glenn’s limbs refused to move.  Her hands had a death grip on Sadie’s trench coat.  The voice pierced the confusion again, and she raised her eyes to see an angel.  He leaned down, and touched the back of her hand.  A cocoon engulfed her body and dragged her over top of Sadie.  He laid Glenn on a bower of sweet smelling herbs.  As the angel hovered over Glenn, Sadie came into his halo of light.  The angel sensed her, and turned.  Brimstone flared from his upraised hand, and Sadie collapsed back from the shore into the swollen tide.  The vision of the angel buzzed and pulsed.  Glenn’s eyes drooped shut, and when they opened, flashlights were bobbing in her direction.  Geoff was first in a procession, barking orders.  He stooped down, and wrapped a blanket around her.

"D-did you s-see hic-h-him?  A-angel.  Saw G-God."

Someone shouted, "Hypothermia!  For God’s sake let’s get her out of here."

"G-God," she repeated.  "God he-helped me."

Geoff scooped her into his arms.  Men with flashlights went ahead of him, crying, "Make way, give her some air!"

She nestled under Geoff’s chin.  "He helped me, Geoff."

"I know it.  He helped all of us."

"He loves me," Glenn said.

He kissed her on the forehead.  "How could He help it?"

Geoff took her across the bridge, and climbed the steep trail.  An ambulance was waiting in the upper lot, and so was a helicopter.  Glenn was put on a stretcher, and ordered to lie down.  For once in her life, she listened to good advice.

After three hours in the emergency room, she was released into Geoff’s care.  He took her to his house, and tucked her into his bed.  She’d always found something seductive about a rumpled bed.  It seemed lived in, worn like a comfortable pair of jeans.  It was an unspoken welcome, an invitation.  She snuggled into his pillow.  The scent of his hair was strongest and richest in the center.  She buried her nose in the cool linen, and slipped her hands underneath.  The aroma followed her into hours of soft slumber.  She didn't remember the moment of falling asleep, only that she felt unusually tranquil when she awoke.

There was a charming casualness about his room: the tangle of clothes in the corner, the knot of shoes, the jumble of sheets.  She got up, wrapped the corners of the comforter around her, and crept to the window.  It had snowed.  Sunlight was diffused by tendrils of ivy and fingers of fir, and splashed on white patches on the ground.  It looked as if someone had sprinkled powdered sugar on everything.

Geoff came in, and surrounded her in his arms.  "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I got lonely.  Why didn’t you join me?"  She craned her neck back.

"You needed the rest.  Come on downstairs, I made like a boy scout, and built you a fire."

She sighed, and put her cheek against his freshly shaved face.  "I haven't seen snow in a long time."

"It won't last the day."

"Some things aren’t meant to last."

"Hey, chick.  You know, a lot of mensay they’ll walk through fire for you, but I actually did."

"Fire, and flood.  We’ve been through it all."

"Except a normal first date.  As soon as you get well, we’re going to do that."

"Us?  Normal?"  She leaned back into his arms, and watched a squirrel flit up the trunk of a maple tree.  "I didn’t really see an angel, did I?"

"Who knows?  We all see what we need to see."

"It was Justin Knight.  He said so in the hospital.  I heard him call someone named Pippin."

"When you ran from Sadie, I saw my chance to get Sullivan’s gun.  But, before I could get back, Knight’s chopper flew over, lighting up the place."

"Which explains the supernatural light."

"When I ran down the trail, and over the bridge, you were outrunning her.  The next instant, she was trying to drown you, and there wasn’t anything in the world I could do about it.  I never felt so helpless in my life."

"Me neither."

"The way the two of you were wrapped around each other I was afraid to shoot.  I was ready to try to swim across when I saw Knight.  He pulled you out of the water."

"I could have sworn I floated."

"Hypothermia will do that.  Once you start to hallucinate, that’s all she wrote."

"He shot her?  Dead?"

"If the bullet didn’t get, her the hydraulic did," Geoff said.  "Just down from where you went in is a hydraulic.  Rocks create a barrier.  The water rushes up against it, and goes around, and is pushed up again.  Kind of like a sideways whirlpool."

"I heard a roaring sound, like a waterfall."

"Once something gets in there it spins around and around until something jars it loose."

"And, that’s where they found her?" Glenn said.

"Not yet.  Have to wait for the water to recede before they can dredge.  Odds are, that’s where she’ll be," he said.  "You’re shivering."

She pulled the quilt around her tighter.  "I liked it better when I thought there was an angel."

"Who’s to say Justin Knight isn’t an angel?"

"Oh, he’d just love to hear that."

"Oh, by the way, Terry’s dying for you to see the footage he shot.  He’s out of his mind with happiness."

"There’s no way Justin is going to let him screen that," she said.

"Haven’t you read the Bill of Rights lately?  Freedom of the Press, my dear."

"Yeah, right.  Tell Terry to be careful.  If he wants to keep that film he better make about a million copies, and put them some place safe.  Believe me."

"He also said he wants you to come by the studio after the holidays."

"What for?"

"He seems to think the management at channel 25 might like to make you a job offer."

"But, I’ve never done e.n.g."  She watched the same squirrel scurry back down the tree trunk.  "Still, I guess it’s worth going in for an interview.  Nobody else is rushing to hire me."

"Well, Ter’s the man at channel 25.  They rely heavily on his opinions when it comes to camera work.  All I know is, if he says you’re in, you’re in.  And, I wouldn’t mind having you around."

She turned, and slid her arms around him.  "It’s a real shame that you’re totally not my type."

"I know, I don’t much like you, either."  He squeezed her tight.  "Hey, you know what I was thinking?  Maybe we should take Lois up on her offer to stop by.  Eat some turkey, drink some eggnog, pick up a CD."

"Wait until you see what’s on that CD."

"You’ve already looked at it?  When?  Oh, I know, when I fell asleep."

"Yep."

"Man, I can see it now, I’m going to have to keep my eye on you every minute."

"Yeah, it could be a real problem for you."

"I’ll call Lois, and RSVP for tomorrow.  You get back into bed."

"Not without you."

She looked up into his face, at eyes that blazed fiercely.  Her heart pounded.  This was not a man to trifle with.  She knew that as surely as she knew that she had never seen him look more determined.  She knew it as surely as she knew that his embrace was the warmest she’d ever known.  She knew it as surely as she knew his kiss was making a promise that begged a response.  This felt like the best Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years she’d ever had all rolled into one.

"I need you," he whispered, in her ear.

She nuzzled his neck.  "What did you have in mind?"

"If you don’t have any other plans for the next few minutes," he said, touching her cheek.  "I’d like you to join me as I de-bug this place."

26

On the day after Christmas they gave Justin Knight Phil’s CD.  In a strange way the veteran newsman was responsible for opening an internal investigation into a subversive branch of the agency.  Glenn thought he would have liked that.  The audio tape they had found in the tape deck did have Sadie’s voice on it.  There was nothing too incriminating, nothing that would hold up in court, but then again, it didn’t have to.

Shane had been warned to stay out of it by Dave and Lou after they took him home from Union Station.  But, he couldn’t bring himself to do that as long as Glenn was in danger.  Now he was providing what little information he had to the AFIB, along with Pip who was back on his feet.  Lou was recovering from his gunshot wound, and Dave from his heroin injection.  They weren’t allowed to see either of them.

One day they went shopping.  Glenn spent some time inFirst Look Photo daydreaming about new equipment.  Technology had passed her by during the past couple years, and she had to replace almost all her gear.  Everything was too expensive.  They went to the mission district where she found a raspberry-colored parka with lots of pockets.  It wasn’t as roomy as her vintage overcoat, but it had a hood, and was only five dollars.

Terry Reeder brought the videotape to Geoff’s house.  Production values were awful.  He’d been positioned too far away, lighting was negligible, and sound was nonexistent.  All you could see were leaves and twigs and some ghosts in the distance.  Terry swore the original print was clear.  He didn’t know what could have happened.

"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I have nothing to show for it."

Glenn offered to help boost the image for him.

"That’s just it," he said.  "I can’t find the original.  I’ve misplaced it."  He ran his fingers through his bangs.  "Think anybody would buy this?  Is it as bad as I think it is?"

"Well," Glenn said.  "No legitimate news organization.  However, you could peddle it to one of those pseudo-docu-drama shows.  Tell them it’s footage of Bigfoot."

"Or, Madonna skinny-dipping," Geoff said.

Terry laughed.  "How about if I say it’s Elvis?"

Glenn said, "Why not all three?  I’ll be Madonna, we can call Sullivan Bigfoot, and that makes Geoff Elvis.  We’re all three skinny-dipping at Civil War battle site.  I can see the headlines now.  Dude, you’re going to be famous."

"That’s some imagination you got there, girl," Terry said, smiling at her.  "You are going to be huge in network news."

On New Years morning, as Glenn was waking up in the guestroom, Geoff came in wearing baggy sweat pants with the terrapin logo of the University of Maryland on them.  His upper torso was bare, allowing her to see the black and blue marks on his chest and arm.  He handed her a coffee mug, and a plate with two overstuffed, blueberry croissants, and sat on the edge of the bed.

She scooted up on her pillow.  "You’re spoiling me."

"That’s the plan."

"It’s not going to work, you know.  I’m not going to change my mind."

"Hey, I’m perfectly happy with our living arrangement.  You feel more comfortable sleeping here than in my bed, and I respect that."

She picked some crust off the pastry, and put it on her tongue.  "As long as you understand that it’s not about you."

"I understand."  He pulled the round end off one of the croissants, and ate it.  "You want to be respectful of my parents, I get it.  And, you want to go slow this time.  We’ve been over this a hundred times.  I’m fine with it.  As long as you let me pamper you a little.  That’s all I ask.  I like the idea of knowing you’re under the same roof with me, even if it is two floors away.  And, I especially like our little breakfasts in bed."

"Okay, climb in."

"Don’t rush me, wild thing.  Gotta go get my coffee first.  I’ll meet ya in the middle."

When he returned, he plumped up a pillow, and got under the covers.  "That was my mom calling just now from sunny Jamaica.  She said to tell you ‘hi’."

"I thought I heard the phone ring.  Are they having a good time?"

"Wonderful.  Weather is perfect.  They were thinking of extending their stay a week.  But, they decided to come home tomorrow, as planned."

"Then, I can finally go home."

"Hey, don’t bogart all the food, chick.  Pass that over here before it’s gone."  He took another bite, and another swallow of coffee.  "I do appreciate you keeping me company."

"My pleasure.  It still blows me away that a big, rugged guy like you is scared to be alone."

"I trusted you with that.  Now don’t go throwing it in my face."

"I’m not.  I think it’s cute, and very reassuring, to find out you’re not so perfect after all."

"Whatever turns you on."  He sighed.  "Before you leave, will you go with me to the cemetery?"

She stared at him a moment.  "Okay.  Why?"

"To see Bobby…to say good-bye.  I still haven’t been able to bring myself to do that.  New Years seems as good as day as any to take care of last year’s debts."

As they stood before a bronze grave marker that readRobert Burns Duncan , all she could think of was how embarrassed Geoff was going to be spending eternity under a plaque that had his middle name on it.  She pictured it,Geoffrey Chaucer Duncan .  If she was walking through a graveyard, and saw it she’d think he was somebody unusual, somebody special.  Geoff talked to his brother as if they were standing beside each other.  He told him how difficult it was letting go of him.  How could he stop missing him without erasing him from his heart, and mind?

"I’m really scared, Bobby.  How can I open myself up to anybody when I know how awful losing them feels?"

He stood with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes closed.  Glenn thought he might be praying, and wondered if she was supposed to join him.  Silently his hand moved to take hers.

"Are you going to marry me?"

Glenn squeezed his hand.  "Your brother kind of predicted this.  The last time I talked to him."

"How’s that?"

"He ordered me to go home, and find someone like you to have a life with."

"And, did you?  I’ve got to know.  Be fair.  Tell me now.  Even if it’s ‘maybe’.  There are so many things we have no control over.  Committing myself to loving you is something I can do.  Otherwise, I have to start letting go."

"Have you thought about what we’d tell our kids when they ask how daddy proposed to Mommy?"

"No problem, you’ll just make up a lie anyway.  Is that a ‘maybe’?  I think I heard a ‘maybe’."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Gosh, you’re annoying."

He twined his fingers through hers, and pulled her close.  "That’ll probably get on your nerves in about forty or fifty years."

"Or sooner."  She smiled.

"Yep," he said, searching her eyes.  "That definitely was a ‘maybe’."

"Look," she said.  "I agree that we could have the foundation for something.  I’d even go so far as to say that it could turn out to be lasting.  But, I have to learn how to be part of the human race, before I can even think about being a wife.  I’ve never been a daughter, or even a sister before.  And, I’m pretty darn sure neither of us is ready for marriage.  Especially you, young man."

"Okay, so I’ll try to grow up."

"Just as long as you don’t grow up too much.  We can’t possibly have a successful relationship whereI’m the mature one.  That’s way too scary."

"Positively chilling."  He put her hand in his coat pocket.  "You want to tell Bobby good-bye?"

Glenn nodded, and looked down at the grave.  She wasn’t sure she could say it out loud without falling apart.  The image of his dead face still haunted her on occasion, and probably always would.  She had found ways to come to terms with it.  But, she suspected she’d never cease to ache just a little bit whenever she thought of him.

"How about," she whispered, to Geoff, "if we just say, ‘see ya later’?"

"Perfect.  That’s my girl."

There was something different about Glenn’s apartment when she returned to it.  She combed her hair with the fingers of both hands, and went to the bedroom for clean clothes.  She pulled a red cotton sweater over her head, and looked through her hamper for her favorite stretch pants.  When she couldn’t find them she went to look in the bathroom.  While she was there she scrubbed her face, cleaned her teeth, and brushed her hair.  Then, she remembered her pants were on the other side of her bed.  On the way back she saw something out the corner of her eye, something she should have noticed as soon as she came in.

The last time she saw her camera bag was on Burnside Bridge.  Now it was in her living room.  Nothing to fear.  The government agents had returned it.  All she had to do was call, and confirm it.  Her eyes moved from one side of the room to the other.  She wet her lips, and walked to the front door.  She picked up the Louisville slugger, and rested it on her shoulder.  It wasn’t a big apartment.  The only area she hadn’t searched yet was the bedroom closet.

She crept up to the door, and flung it open.  It was the same disorganized mess it had always been.  She went back to the living room.  Had she checked the shower?  In half a minute she was standing in front of it trying to summon up X-ray vision to see through the curtain.  She swung the bat, chipping the porcelain.

"YO!"

She screamed, and swung the bat, missing Jacqmel’s chin by a hair.

"Whoa!" he yelled, jumping back.  "What did I do?"

Glenn dropped the bat, and threw her arms around him.  "I’m so glad to see you."

"Yeah, well, I did asked Santa for a concussion, but how did you know?"

"I’m a little jumpy.  Have you been around?  Did I have any visitors?"

"Not exactly.  I caught somebody sneakin’ out your back door a couple days ago."

"Did you see who it was?" Glenn asked.

"It was too dark.  Seemed small like, kinda girlish.  I thought it might be you."

"Is that all?"

"It’s been real quiet.  No stabbin’s, no shootin’s, nothing," Mel said.

"Maybe there’s something to all that ‘miracle of Christmas’ nonsense after all."

"Maybe.  My dad is back in town, and he says he might stay this time.  Mama almost believes him."

"Do you?" Glenn asked.

"I don’t know.  Well, I just came over to wish you a Merry Christmas from Mom and me.  She had me bring you a pound of her famous cherry fudge.  I put it on the counter, there.  I’ll talk to ya later.  Take care o’ yourself."

"Don’t I always?  Thank your mom from me.  Merry Christmas."

Glenn closed the door, and picked up her camera case.  It was smeared with mud, and ripped at the corner.  She opened it, and found a scrap of paper lying on top of her long lens.  She read it, then sank down on the edge of the couch.

Sadie was alive, probably thousands of miles away, in some Third World country plotting a bloody coup.  Did Justin Knight know she was alive?  Probably.  Would he warn Glenn?  Probably not.  She was on her own.  Should she worry?  She smoothed the note out on her knee, and stared at the four words written in crimson ink.

Don’t get too comfortable.

Glenn felt a tingle run along her spine.  Then, a strange sense of peace came over her, like God was in heaven, and all was right with the world.  Knowing Sadie was out there should have been terrifying.  But, Glenn felt a kinship with her.  They were sisters under the skin somehow, and knowing she hadn’t drowned made Glenn breathe easier, too.  They were both survivors of the Little Antietam, and she wished her well.  After all, Sadie could have left something a lot more lethal in Glenn’s apartment if that’s what she had wanted.

"Well, I gotta give it to you, Sadie.  You kept your end of the deal.  Thanks for returning my gear."   Glenn lifted the bag onto her lap.  "Good luck, girlfriend.  Keep your headlights on.

She read the note once more, and tucked it into the zipper pocket of her camera bag for safekeeping.

Don’t get too comfortable.

Good advice.  And, she planned to take it.

Table of Contents

Unnamed

Unnamed

Unnamed