"BURN"

by Cory

CHAPTER ONE

 Bailey eyes darted across the room.  There stood Sam, paper in hand.
 

 "Bailey!" he exclaimed, "I've had enough of you!"

Bailey was calm and cool.  "Really, Sam.  And what exactly do you mean?"

"I MEAN that this is the LAST STRAW!"

"Is it?"

"Bailey, don't be smart with me - you're getting close to REALLY being in a lot of shit!!"

"I think I already am."  Suddenly he and his desk disappeared.

"What - Bailey!  This isn't funny!  Bailey!  Bailey??"

"Right here, Sam," answered Bailey from behind him.  He stood upside down on the roof.  "You called?"

"What the heck?!  Is this a trick?!"

"Is it?"  Bailey disappeared, reappearing outisde.

Sam ran toward the window.  "That's it!  You're gone from this company man!!!"  Suddenly Sam noticed he was floating in mid-air, legs crossed, as if he was meditating.  Sam stared at Bailey, and fainted on the floor.

 "CUT!!!" screamed the director.

 Bailey got up off the floor as Rollie Tyler stepped forward from behind the camera.  "Nice goin'" said Roll, stepping across the room to where Angie sat with the Ambler in front of her.  "'Kay, Ang, visuals off."

The office disappeared, replaced by blue screens.  As Angie began to pack up the equipment, Bailey, who had been sitting behind the director the whole time, walked toward him.  "Mr. Tyler!" he exclaimed, "I thought when you recorded those clips of me they'd come out awful projected right on set.  I - I guess I was wrong."  He slapped Rollie on the shoulder.  "Nice work."

"Hey, Tyler!" called the director coldly, "Step into my office for a second, please?"

Rollie's face dropped.  "Uuh, sure thing Matt."  He glanced at Angie as he walked off; she wore an expression of confusion as well.

Angie folded up the Ambler and stuck it under her arm, folding the tripod into her black duffel bag.  As Rollie disappeared around the corner, she called "See you tomorrow at the workshop, Rol!"  He waved as he turned the corner.

 Rollie followed the director into the office.  "Matt," he said, his thick Aussie accent a contrast to the director's distinct American, "What's going on?"

Calmly the director shut the door.  "Rollie Tyler, my name is not Matt."

"What do you mean?  You're Matthew Taylor; directed such movies as 'Flight 660', 'Saturn's Rings', and 'Cornered'."  He paused, seeing the director's no nonsense face.  "Didn't you?"

"No, Tyler."  He pulled a badge from under his desk.  "I'm Special Agent Jarrod Harmon, FBI."

Rollie's jaw dropped.  "FBI, but, but . . . ".

"What the heck is an FBI agent doing directing a movie, right?  Well, Mr. Tyler, I'll have you know you are a target for murder."

"What are you saying?" Rollie said.  "Me?  Murder?"

"Exactly, Mr. Tyler.  It's a group code named 'Burn'.  We've been tracking them for months."

"But that STILL doesn't explain why I am a target?!"

"Mr. Tyler, four months ago you were brutally attacked by a man running out of a building, correct?"

"Uuh, yeah, that's right.  I managed to stumble to a phone and get a police officer after him.  He was eventually caught.   So what?"

"He was one of 'Burn's top spies.  You had seen him when he wasn't supposed to be seen.  When you put him away, you made their group very angry."

"But why this long to come after me?"

"Burn doesn't care about you.  But this guy does, and he's VERY dangerous.  He has hit men searching for you right now.  They have discovered you're working on this movie.  They could find you any minute.  That's why you must come with me now to a safe place."

"But Angie - "

"Your assistant will have to be left in the dark, in case the hit men capture her and try to talk to her.  She won't be harmed, though.  Burn is careful to have as little violence as necessary, so they are not discovered."

Rollie paused.  "All right," he said, "I'll go with you.  But I want your assurance she will NOT be harmed!"

"Fine, Mr. Tyler, we'll even put an officer outside your shop and outside her home to make sure she's safe.  That okay?"

"Good.  Now, where are we going."

"Come right this way, Tyler . . . "
 

CHAPTER TWO

Angie loaded up the FX van and hopped into the driver seat.  She turned on the engine, and gripped both sides of the wide steering wheel.  As she was about to drive off, she caught a glimpse of Rollie across the street.  He was walking close in front of Matt, the director.  The director motioned for him to enter a black Mercedes, and they drove off.

"Odd," she said to herself.  But she drove on.

The beeping of Angie's alarm clock woke her up.  Slamming the button, she glanced at the time.  7:02.  She pulled herself out of bed, showered, and dressed.  Walking into her small kitchen, she opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal.  She sleepily poured it into a bowl with some milk, and sat down with the morning paper spread out on the table in front of her.

On the second page was a small article entitled 'Burn members arrested at party'.  It grabbed her eye.  She glanced at the fuzzy colour picture, showing a black mercedes pulled over at the side of a road with a cop car behind.  The NYPD officer had handcuffed three men and was leading him to his police car.

Angie did a double take.  It looked like the same black mercedes she'd seen Rollie in.  This was too weird.  A curiosity grew inside of her. Deciding to pull a few strings, she phoned a friend who worked at the paper.

"Hi, Brook?  Ang.  I know!  Long time no talk!  Listen, who took the picture on page two of this morning's paper?  Do you know him?  I know this may sound odd, but could you e-mail me another copy of it, as high quality as possible?  Nothing important, just curious.  Thanks Brook, you're a pal.  Okay, I'll see you later.  Bye."  She hung up the phone.  She didn't think there was anything wrong.  But she did want to talk to Rollie.

"Rol?"  Angie pulled open the workshop door.  "Lights," she commanded, and they turned on.  Rollie, normally in there, wasn't around. "Rol-lie?"  She stepped toward his messy workbench, picking up an alien head.  "Rol, this isn't funny.  What are you planning?  Rollie??"

She was startled when an electronic bark sounded beside her.  "Bluey, that you?"  He came out from behind a table.  ARF!  "Bluey, is Rollie here?"  With a whirr, Blue shook his head.

Angie was getting nervous now.  Heading for the Ambler, and checked her e-mail.  Sure enough, Brook had sent her the picture.

She looked at it again.  It really looked like Matt's car.  She zoomed in on it and enhanced.  Suddenly a horrible feeling grew in her gut. She zoomed in, enhancing some more, on the New York license plate.  She read it.  240 JRO.

"Oh my god."  It was Matt's license.  It was his car!
 

CHAPTER THREE

Rollie was being led to "Matt"'s car.  "Who the heck are you?" he said as they headed past the van, "And what the heck is this gun thing in my back for?  Is this standard procedure?!"

"Don't draw attention," snapped the director.  "Just climb in."

Rollie did what he was told.  Sitting down in the back, he turned around . . .

 . . . and found himself face to muzzle with a shotgun, pointed straight at him from a man hiding in the back.  "What the hell . . . !"

"Mr. Tyler," sneered the gunman.  "Don't try a thing."

"What is going on?!"

Matt had climbed into the front.  Turning around to Rollie, he handed him his badge, tearing it easily and neatly in half.  "Fooled you, Tyler," he laughed.  "You should be honoured to be in the presence of hit men for Burn."

Rollie stared at the torn badge.  "You son of a bitch," he said.  "You think you can get away with this - "

Matt started the engine and began to drive away.  "I already have."

She grabbed her cell phone.  "Detective Mira Sanchez, please.  Mira?  It's Angie.  I think Rollie's in trouble."

Mira was drinking her coffee after filing some reports on a robbery.  "What do you mean, Angie?"

"I MEAN," she said, "He could be in BIG TROUBLE!  Did you read the morning paper?"

"Yeah," said Mira, reaching across her desk for it.  "I have it here."

"The picture - the one that goes with the article on the second page. On Burn.  I got a copy of it from a friend at the paper.  When I enhanced it, I discovered the license plate on that car is the same as the director of the movie we're working with!  Mira, Rollie went somewhere with him yesterday and isn't back."

"This is not good," said Mira, quickly tearing out the picture.  "Where are you?"

"The shop!"

"I'll be right there."  Mira finished her coffee and left the empty cup on her desk.  Then she ran out the door.

 "So you're saying that's your director's license plate?"

"Mira, yes!"  Angie was frustrated. She wanted to do something - but didn't know what.

"Well I checked with a friend.  That IS a license plate registered to an operative of Burn.  Now what did you say your director's name was?"

"Matt - Matt Taylor."

"Do you have a fingerprint?"

Angie thought back.  "I know!" she exclaimed.  She crossed the room to a storage area. She picked up a large envelope with something large in it.  "This is a carving of a prop that Matt wanted Rollie to make. Rollie watched Matt carve it himself.  He did it well and quickly. There might be usable prints on this."

"Let's try it out."

After fifteen minutes of dusting and photographing Angie and Mira finally found a good print.  They scanned it into the computer.  Angie brought it up and screen.  She talked as she selected icons.  "Search, USA, begin."

Millions of names rushed down across the screen.  There was a beep, and a flashing icon read "No Match Found".

"Search other countries," said Mira, "Burn operates internationally."

"Searching, all other countries, begin."  The screen read 'searching England', then 'Australia', then 'Russia', then 'Canada' . . .

"Match found" proclaimed the computer.
"Gerrod von Chauvin," read Mira, "Canadian citizen, currently in residence in New, York, New York USA at . . . 303 Aberdeen Crescent."

She pulled on Angie's arm.  "Let's go!"
 

CHAPTER FOUR

Angie pulled the FX van (which now bore the logo of a floor cleaning company) up in front a large red brick building.  In front was a large wooden staircase and patio.  There were few windows.  The lawn had not been cut for some time.  A driveway wove around to the back of the house, and parked in it was the black mercedes.

Angie pulled out a pair of small high powered binoculars she had in the glove compartment.  She peeked into the windows.

"Anything?" asked Palmira.

 "I can't see any thing.  Wait a second."  She reached into the glove compartment and drew out a small contraption which attached to the eyepieces of the binoculars.

"What the heck is that?" asked Mira.

"Night vision."

"Night vision?!  Angie, are you out of your mind?  In broad daylight? You could damage . . .!"

"Mira, take a break."  Angie turned a knob on one.  "I designed them myself.  Only parts of your field of view that are below a certain intensity are amplified.  Here, look."  She handed Mira the binoculars.

Angie was right.  Only specific areas were amplified.  Specifically, the windows.

"Angie!  There's someone in a window!"

"Which one?"

"Second from top right."

"Let me see."  Angie took the binoculars.  She was right.  Someone was walking around inside.  Pacing, by the looks of it.  He threw his arms up in disgust.  Then he turned around, and looked out the window.

Angie quickly hit a button on the binoculars.  It clicked, then hummed.

"What was THAT?" asked Mira.

"A photo," said Angie simply.

Mira shook her head.  "Recognize him?"

"Nope."  Angie stepped into the back of the truck, handing the binoculars back to Mira.  "Keep watching."  She hit a panel on the computer.  It lit up.  She hit a few icons, and quickly the picture she had taken appeared on the screen.

"Angie!" exclaimed Mira, "I see someone else!"

"Photograph them too.  The picture'll be sent from the binoculars right to the screen."  She paused.  "We'll need all the shots we can get."

Unknown to Mira and Angie, there were actually THREE people in the room.  The other was Rollie Tyler, bound hands and feet to a chair.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" he said.

"BECAUSE, Mr. Tyler, we've been given new orders."  One man appeared to be doing all the talking.  The other was just a guard.

"New orders?  What stupid new orders?"

"He wants you to do a job for him."

"And what if I DON'T do this job?"

"You are killed."

Rollie realized this was his chance out.  He went along.  "What is it?"

"You are to fake his death."

"WHAT?!"

"You, in total public view, will make it look like he is shot as he tried to stop an attempted robbery.  He will go down attempting to do a good deed, trying to help the manager capture the thieves.  Oh, and one other thing.  There will be no masks.  This is going to be him.  Him shot, he identified, him buried.

"You can't be serious?"

"Deadly serious, Mr. Tyler.  Deadly."
 

CHAPTER FIVE

Rollie paused.  "But I don't have my stuff!"

"You'll have to make do with our supplies, Mr. Tyler."

Rollie sighed.  "Fine.  Just one question.  What the HELL is this going to accomplish?  Why does he need to die?"

The man stepped closer to Rollie, face to face.  "Mr. Tyler, it ain't any of your business.  Let's just say . . . being dead has its advantages when you're in this murky criminal world."

Rollie thought.  "When can I get started?"

"ASAP, Mr. Tyler."  The man began untying Rollie's bonds.

One hour later, Angie and Mira were back at the workshop.  They'd just received a report from the station.  "DAMN!" exclaimed Angie, reading it.

Mira, who was across the room, turned around.  "What is it?"

"I sent those two photos to the station - to see if they could be identified."

"No luck, right?"

"None.  They don't exist anywhere in the world."

"Not surprised.  Not many of Burn's agents have records.  Changing the subject, Ang, can we get in there?"

Angie thought.  "I don't think so.  I don't have any building plans. Have no clue what their security system is like.  I'd say for now that's a no."

Mira swore.  "There goes our only lead.  We know where they are, we just can't get in."

"Waaait a second," said Angie, "I have an idea.  But I have one phone call to make . . . "

Rollie was motioned to sit at a large computer desk.  In front of him was a large configurable touch responsive pad, with another screen in front of him.  "FX away, Mr. Tyler," said the thug.

Rollie shook his head.  "I can't just 'FX away' as you call it.  I need to think."

His captor frowned.  "Fine.  But think quickly."

Rollie thought.  What was the best way to make the piece of material fall?

"What kind of building material do you want to fall?"

"A beam maybe, something large and heavy."

A beam, large and heavy.  "What if I . . . "  Rollie reached to touch the keyboard.

The thug drew his hand away.  "NO funny stuff."

Rollie smiled innocently.  "Why, I wouldn't dream of it, my friend."  Rollie touched the keyboard and began to work.  A beam.  A beam made of metal.  A magnetized beam.  With a powerful (but not too powerful)
electromagnet of the same polarity being worn by the boss (Rollie figured the boss had to be Matt).  The beam would fall, it's fall softened by the magnet, the magnet turned off, a little makeup for blood and it would look real.

But instantly there were problems.  Anyone with keys would instantly be pulled to the magnet.  And where would he get the power, or magnetize an entire beam?  No, that was too dumb.  Next bright idea.
 

CHAPTER SIX

"Detective Palmira Sanchez, meet Lucinda Scott."

Lucinda smiled brightly, and shook hands with the slightly surprised Mira.  "Nice to meet you," she said.  "Now, Angie, what did you need me for?"

"Lucinda, Rol's in trouble.  We don't know how, but we think we know where he is.  WE don't want to try to sneak in, in case someone discovers us - Rollie could end up hurt or killed."

"Who has Rollie?"

"A group called 'Burn'," said Mira.  "For some reason, they've taken Rollie."

"Well, I'm JUST the person you need for the job," said Lucinda in a sing song, happy voice.  "What do I have to do?"

Lucinda knocked on the door of Gerrod's (Matt's) building.  She was dressed in a puffy black dress.  She wore a stylish top hat and glasses (equipped with a minicam.)  The FX van was once again parked across the street, receiving all information sent from the camera.

The door opened slightly, and a face peered out.  Lucinda grinned, and sang loudly, "Singing Telegram!!!"

The person growled, "Sorry, don't want any."

He tried to shut the door, but Lucinda had placed her foot in the way.  "Oh, come on, my dear.  I'm just doing my job.  This is for a sweety named Matthew Taylor.  Is he here?"  She pushed the door open with her toe.

The person grumbled, and let her in.  Lucinda looked around the front lobby, the camera recording everything.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Angie in the van.  "I can see clearly, Lucinda."

Lucinda heard Angie through a miniature earphone.  "This way," said the person flatly.  Lucinda followed.  He was heading for a door at one end  of the lobby.

"Lucinda," said Angie, "we need to see more of the house.  Take a detour to the office, or something."

Lucinda thought, then turned towards the doorway to another room. She peered in, and saw a small living room with chairs, a TV, and a few windows.  "Oh!" she exclaimed, "What BEAUTIFUL curtains you have!"  She stepped inside, "I LOVE that colour red! . . . "

"Ma'am, please."  Lucinda felt herself pulled toward the office.  As she passed another room, she peered inside that, too.

She entered a small room with a desk and computer.  But no one was there.  "Damn," said the person, "he's not here."  He led Lucinda out into the lobby again.  The only other place the boss could have gone was up a flight of stairs to a second floor.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, he's not here.  You'll have to go - "

"Oh!" said Lucinda, "Then he must be upstairs!"  She broke free and dashed up the staircase.

"LADY NO!!" exclaimed the man, chasing after her.

Lucinda had been working out, and her chaser hadn't.  She was up the stairs and looking around before he reached the step.  "SECURITY!!!" he exclaimed.

Lucinda was in a hallway with five doors on either side.

"Is he in . . . here?"  Lucinda looked around into one room.  No one there.

"Here?"  Nobody.

She turned a corner.  "There you are - "  Her voice caught.  Inside stood Matthew Taylor and Rollie!
 

CHAPTER SEVEN
 

Rollie gasped as Lucinda suddenly rounded the corner, as did Angie and Mira in the van.  Then Rollie noticed someone behind Lucinda.  "GET DOWN!!" he shouted at Lucinda, leaping towards Lucinda.  He pulled her out of the way just as Matt Taylor, who had just stepped out of another room, shot his gun at where she was standing.

Mira, in the van, grabbed her radio.  "Detective Palmira Sanchez, requesting backup at 303 Aberdeen Crescent . . . "

Rollie and Lucinda landed on the floor.  They scrambled to get up, as Matt came in and trained his gun on them both.  "Eh," he said, gesturing at Lucinda and her odd clothes, "who the hell are you?"

Lucinda stuttered.  "Umm, uhh, I was looking for the boss - um, singing telegram???"

"Don't take no singing telegrams," he said.  Rollie noticed a change in the way he spoke.  It was no longer a nice, kind voice - this guy was definitely a crook.

"So, men, what are we gonna do about these two?"

"I say shoot 'em," Rollie's guard said.

"Nah," said the man who had answered the door.  "Remember, you still need Mr. FX dude to 'kill' you."

Angie glanced at Mira.  So THAT'S why they took Rollie!

"But I don't need her," said Matt, leveling his gun at Lucinda.

"Wait!" said Rollie, moving to shield Lucinda.  "She can be of help!"

"How?" growled Matt.

"She's, uuh, a singing telegram deliverer, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Can't she act?  You can have her be the one who says you're dead!  It would . . . save having to find a way to make your pulse stop."

Matt thought.  "Fine, keep her in the third floor attic."  He looked outside - the sun was beginning to set, and it was getting cooler. "Stick Mr. Tyler in there, too.  And give 'em somethin' to eat."

"Like what, boss?"

"ANYTHIN'!"

As Rollie and Lucinda were led up another set of stairs to the attic, Matt looked outside again.  The street was empty except for a large black van parked at the curb.  It had a funny round logo on it, with the
words "Floor X-cellence - we sweep, wash, wax, tile, whatever you need."

He'd seen that van before.  Where?

"What the hell do you mean they're held up?  BRIDGE CONSTRUCTION?!?!  Well, of all . . . "

Angie turned to look at Mira.  "Mira, c'mere."

"STAY THERE," Mira snapped at the person on the radio.  "What, Angie?"

"Hold off on the backup, Mira.  We've got all the images of the house we need, and Rolle and Lucinda are being held for the night.  They're safe for now.  If those police come in, these guys'll bolt and we'll lose them.  Let's let it take it's time and we'll get them at a better time."

"Angie, we could . . . "

"Mira, TRUST ME.  It'll all be under control."

Mira sighed.  "Fine, fine, fine.  Headquarters?  Call those cars off.  Situation's fine."

"That's good," said Angie, "now, maybe Rollie will talk to us and tell us what's going on through Mira's glasses - once they're alone . . . "

Floor X-cellence??  It . . . seemed SO familiar, yet . . .

Matt grabbed a phone book.  Floor Supremacy, Floor Wash Deluxe . . .

No Floor X-cellence.  He grabbed a paper, planning to write down the name and check it out later.  This was maddening!

Suddenly it came to him.  Putting the two words one above the other, it spelled . . .
 

F.X.

"Son of a bitch."  He took off down the hall.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rollie and Lucinda were shoved inside the dark room.  It was full of mounds of dirty, decaying cardboard boxes.  Rollie sat on one, and turned to Lucinda.

"What the HELL are you doing here?"

"Angie's . . . "  Suddenly Rollie waved her off.  A slit of light came from under the door, and a shadow stood in it.

Rollie motioned for Lucinda to step to the back of the attic, to an empty discarded box.  Pulling a pen from his pocket, he scrawled "Continue."  Then he said, "Angie . . . . "

"She's - she's my boss.  That's right.  Angie's telegrams.  I work for her.  If you're wondering why I'm here, I was delivering a telegram to 'the boss'."

Rollie showed her what he'd wrote:  "SOMEONE'S STILL THERE - WHAT'S ANGIE DOING?"  Then he began to talk, making up stuff off the top of his head.  "Well, I once knew someone who worked as a singing telegram deliverer.  She was a lot like you.  Her name was, uuh, Palmira.  Really nice person.  She hated the job.  Oh," he faked a laugh, "ONCE she, oh this is so funny, once she was dressed as a, get this, CHICKEN!  Ha ha ha ha!!!  She looked SOOO stupid, it was great!  She loved dressing up . . . "

Lucinda motioned for him to stop, and she suppressed giggles as she showed him what she'd written:  "IN VAN OUTSIDE - FIND OUT WHERE YOU WERE - VIDEO IN MY GLASSES - YOU SUCK AT FAKE LAUGHTER".

Rollie shrugged and grinned.  He heard footsteps, and the shadow behind the door disappeared.  Rollie listened as he continued to the steps. "He's going away," he whispered to Lucinda.  "Is this video connected to Angie?"

"Sure," whispered Lucinda.  "Here."  She gave him them.

 Angie and Mira watched as Rollie's face appeared on the screen.

"Angie, hi - I know you can't answer, I just want to tell you what's going on.  Lucinda tells me you're planning a rescue, and . . . "

Suddenly the back door of the van burst open.  There stood Matthew Taylor, aka Gerrod von Chauvin.  "Mounting a rescue, aren't you Angie?" he said.  He trained his gun on her and Mira.  "Cop, aren't you?"  Mira didn't say anything.  "Angie, you totally nuts?  Think I wouldn't recognize your van?"

"Matthew Taylor," continued Rollie, oblivious to what was happening, "our director, is actually an operative of a group called Burn.  But you probably know that . . . "

"What is that?" said Matt, pointing to Rollie's face.

"Oh nothing," said Angie. She hit a button, making Rollie's face disappear from the screen.  But she also hit RECORD, so that if they got through this, they could see what Rollie said.

"I think someone snuck a camera in.  And I think I know who.  'Singing telegram'!"

"RUN!!"  exclaimed Mira, pushing Angie out the driver side door.  She jumped out the passenger side just as Taylor fired his gun.  The van's windshield grew into a large spider web, and with another shot it
shattered altogether.

"GET BACK HERE!"  Shouted Matt, chasing after Mira.  He fired again, and Mira dodged the bullets.  She rounded a corner to an alley.  She ran between the mounds of smelly garbage as fast as possible, all the while watching for what Taylor was aiming at.  She dodged another few bullets, then turned around, reaching for the gun which was supposed to be in her holster.  But it wasn't there.

"Forget something?" Matt laughed.  He showed her her gun.  "You'd left it in the van.  And now you're defenseless.  Say goodbye, coppy!"  He leveled his gun, and fired . . .
 

CHAPTER NINE

The bullet shot through the air towards Mira ...

.... then she disappeared.  The bullet shattered a screen which had been set up between two dumpsters. "What the hell..." began Taylor.

"What the hell indeed," said Mira.  Taylor whirled around.  There stood Angie, with Mira, a gun pointed at his head.  "Drop the gun."

"But, what ...."

"Obviously you weren't paying attention during the filming," said Angie.  "We set this up JUST in case someone discovered us.  Came in handy.  Although Rollie's gonna KILL me ..."

"Where'd you get ... gun?" stuttered Taylor.

Mira pulled up her pant leg.  "Always keep a spare," she said.  She walked over to Taylor.  "I always keep these on me, too," she said, slapping on handcuffs.

Angie and Mira headed back for the van, Taylor in tow.  "What are we going to do now?" asked Angie.  "Taylor's buddies'll soon find he's not coming back."

"Angie, I REALLY have to call for backup now."  Angie shrugged, so Mira went ahead.  "This is Mira Sanchez, I need backup at 303 Aberdeen Cres.  This is URGENT .....  well TELL bridge construction they're gonna hafta MOVE!!  Okay, ten minutes is fine."  She turned to Ang.  "We have to wait ten minutes."

"What if they leave?"

"What else can we do?"
 

CHAPTER TEN

Angie and Mira arrived back at the van.  Replaying Rollie's message, they discovered what had happened.  Suddenly they saw Rollie's face come into the image again.  He'd been standing by the door, listening.

"They're moving out!" exclaimed Rollie, "Something about Taylor not being around."

"Mira," said Angie, "This isn't good."

Mira pulled out her radio.  "Backup, Sanchez - ETA?  Damn, eight minutes."  She turned to Angie.  "We gotta stall them."

Suddenly a shout came from the back of the van where they had stuck Taylor.  "Ha!  Detective, looks like MY MEN will be out before YOUR MEN even get here."

"Shut up!" exclaimed Mira.  She turned back to Angie.  "Angie, I need IDEAS here ..."

Angie paused.  Suddenly she brought up a map of the building, determined by the video from Luce's glasses cam.  "It seems," she said, "The only exit is here," she pointed to the front door, "other than the
fire escape at the back.  Mira, you go to the fire escape.  I'll handle the door."  She grabbed a flame thrower from a shelf.  "Burn is gonna literally BURN."  Pulling on the straps of the flamethrower, she and
Mira jumped out of the van.  Angie snuck up to the front door as Mira ran around to the fire escape.  Angie, who had routed sound from the glasses cam to her headset, listened closely.  It sounded as though the group were just heading down the stares.  Pointing the nozzle at the front door, she squeezed the trigger.

Flames shot out of the gun, lighting the door and frame on fire.  She proceeded to light the wooden patio as well, setting everything into a mass of flames.  She stepped back to look at the mess.  She nodded.
"Rollie'll like this."

Rollie watched as the entire front of the lobby lit up in flames.

"Shit!" exclaimed a thug, "What's going on?!"  The fire crept along the wall.  "Fire escape!" he said, pulling everyone back up the stairs.

Angie, outside, had been feeling pretty proud of herself.  Any minute Mira would come marching around the side of the building

The bodyguard paused.  "THE CELLAR!" he exclaimed.

Rollie and Lucinda looked around in confusion, as the other thugs came to the realization.  "FUCK!!!!!" exclaimed one.  "THE EXPLOSIVES!!!!!"

"WHAT EXPLOSIVES?!?!?!" shouted Rollie over the noise of the flames.

"WE HAVE A STASH DOWNSTAIRS!!!" yelled someone.  "THEY WERE FOR EMERGENCIES!!!!!"

Lucinda shrieked.  "THIS WHOLE PLACE IS GONNA BLOW!!!!!!"

Rollie looked up and down the stairs.  "WE HAVE NO TIME FOR THE FIRE ESCAPE!!!" he shouted.  He looked at the front door, where flames had eaten the door but were now crawling across the floor and along the wall.  "WE HAVE TO RISK GOING THROUGH THERE!!!!!"

"YOU'RE NUTS!!!!" shouted the bodyguard.

"IT'S OUR ONLY HOPE!!!!!"  Rollie grabbed Lucinda, carrying her as he ran down the stairs.  He stared at them.
"Oh God!" cried Lucinda.

Rollie turned, and jumped into the fire, running as fast as possible.  He could feel his shoe catch fire as he ran, but he didn't slow.  He kept his eyes straight ahead.  Sweat dripped down his brow.  "Halfway left," he said, "halfway left."  Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought the pain assaulting his legs.  "Oh god," he said, "just ..."

Angie stared as Rollie (carrying Lucinda) lept through the doorway and across the patio and onto the front lawn.  Rollie landed, dropping Luce and rolling along the ground, extinguishing the flames which had caught on to his shirt.  He turned and saw Angie, carrying the flame thrower.  "ANGIE!!!!" he yelled.

"Look, Rol, please don't kill me, please don't kill me, but we had to keep those guys from leaving."  She pointed to the thugs rolling and coughing on the ground.

Rollie pulled himself to his feet and stumbled toward Angie.  "Angie, look," he said softly, "I am not going to kill you.  But if we don't get away from this building FAST, explosives in the basement are going to
ignite and THEY will kill you!!!"  Angie turned white.  "GO!!!!" shouted Rollie, pushing Angie across the street to the van.

Mira dashed around the corner of the building.  "WHAT THE HELL!!!" she yelled, "WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!?"

"NO TIME!" exclaimed Rollie, pulling a thug to his feet.  "THIS PLACE IS GOING TO EXPLODE!!!!!"  He pulled two more thugs to their feet, and then it was just him, Mira, and one more thug left to get away.  "COME ON!!!!" he exclaimed, starting to run.

But the other thug wouldn't move, no matter how much Mira tried to pull.  "ROLLIE!!!!" she yelled, "I CAN'T GET HIM GOING!!!!"

Rollie turned.  "MIRA!!!!  LEA --- "

The building exploded.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rollie was pushed back.  He flew through the air, and the instant before he hit the ground his gut wrenched.  This was like before.  With Leo.  The FX team were trying to help - and an officer died.  A FRIEND died.  Then he hit the ground, and all the heat, the burning, the explosion ...

... faded to black.

Rollie awoke in a hospital room.  Angie was standing over him, smiling.  "You're awake," she said.

"Yeah," he said.  His voice was harsh ... crackly.

"That's good," she said.

"No, it's not," he told her.

"What do you mean?"

"She died ... didn't she?  Like Leo.  She died."

Angie stared into Rollie's eyes.  "No, Rol.  She didn't die."  She turned away, and pulled a wheelchair up.  Sitting in it was Mira.

Rollie's face lit up.  "You're, you're alive," he said.  He looked at her burnt face.  "You look like hell."

"You look like worse," said Mira.  "You somehow got more of the blast than I did.  Lucky, huh?"  She was trying to be funny, but Rollie could see a pain in her eyes that he knew had a lot to do with him and Leo

"If only Leo," he said, "were as lucky as you."

"I'd say to have someone like you who cares so much ... Leo was the luckiest guy in the world."

A flicker of mischeviousness appeared in Rollie's eyes.  "Aw," he said, "SHUCKS!!!  And hey, who do you get a wheelchair?  Can't I ... "  He tried to pull himself to a sitting position, and with a cry fell back.  He started to laugh.  "Maybe not."

TWO WEEKS LATER

"ANGIE!!!!!" shouted Rollie.  "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SCREEN!!!!!!!"

Angie turned white.  "Uuh ... Oops?"