Angie
a Post Red Storm Fic
by Cory

*   *   *

 
Part One

     That night Rollie slept on the floor of his room in the loft.  He couldn't think about the bed — he couldn't think about what had happened there between Angie and Loubar ...
     And what about Angie? he thought. How was she?  She'd gone home after the accident and hadn't returned any of his calls.  He thought back.  She had made love to Loubar like she was making love to Rollie.  That was what he couldn't believe.  She LOVED him.  They'd worked for so long together.  It had to be kind of natural.  But he'd never really seen it coming.
     And Rollie found something deep inside of him overjoyed.  He tried to explore it — but it was faint, blank.  Suddenly the ringing phone pierced the silence.  Rollie stepped out of his room and called to Blue "Answer, speakerphone."  He prayed to hear Angie's voice.  But instead it was Mira. "Rollie," she said, "We found —"
     Rollie gulped.  "Loubar?"
     Mira hesitated.  "Uh, no.  I'm sorry.  We found the mask."
     Rollie was silent.  "Mira," he said, "I ..."  His words caught in his throat.  "Thank you," he said, finally.
     Mira smiled.  "You're welcome.  Movie guy."
     Rollie smiled sadly, and hung up.  But as he stepped away, his hand froze.  He slowly picked up the phone again, and called Angie's number.  The phone rang.  And rang.  And rang.
     He gave up.  He sat back down, holding his head in his hands.  His shaggy, wild hair hung limply over his tired, battered face.  It had to be him.  It had to be Loubar.  And it had to be Angie.  Fate.  It was just damn fate.
     He stood up, trudging down the metal stairs into the workshop.  He walked to the ambler, and he ran his fingers over the panels, smiling.  Then he noticed a tape was in the tape machine.
     Playing it, he was suddenly rushed with images.  It was him and Angie — no, Angie and Loubar — together.  They were in bed.  They were making love.  And she was going at it, full force.  She meant it.  She HAD meant it.
     Then it was Loubar leaving the loft.  Rollie watched as Loubar spun and hit Angie on the cheek — she stumbled and fell.  And Rollie cried.  He'd never cried before — not like that.  He felt sorry.  It seemed like his fault.  He'd let his guard down.  Loubar had kidnapped him, and taken over his life.  Loubar had VIOLATED Rollie's life.  And dammit he'd violated Angie's life too.  Somehow fate had stuck them all together.  One big boat.  Someone pretty crazy, Rollie was sure, was laughing up there.  Some, screwed up person ...
     And as he cried, again, something inside him leapt up, as if screaming to be heard.  He pushed it back, knowing he couldn't bear the truth.  Not yet.  He had to see Angie, just one more time.  But it was then that he understood.  That was what was going on.  He couldn't bear the truth that Angie loved him, and even deeper . . . he couldn't bear that he loved her back.  And it had taken Loubar — dammit, it took LOUBAR, to make them realize it.  They both loved each other.
     He smiled, this time happily.  He wiped the tears from his face.  He turned away from the screen.  It had to be fate.  He was happy.  He couldn't believe it.  He had to get to Angie, tell her he felt back to her the way she did to him.  Angie had been wrong.  Things weren't any different.  They'd changed.  And that crazy, twisted person up there — had changed them for the better.  He felt ecstatic.  Oh god, he felt alive.  And for Angie ...
     Suddenly a shudder ran through him.  He stood up.  His blood had run cold.  He had an overwhelming feeling of terror — something had just happened.  Oh my god, something terrible had just happened.  And one name popped into his head ....
     The call came five minutes later.  Mira's voice was hoarse — just barely a whisper.  "Rollie ..."
     The happiness that had surged through him moments ago disappeared.  Rollie shuddered, and as Mira spoke the words he never thought he could have beared in his life, he felt horribly alone.
     "She jumped.  I'm sorry."

     It was an old, stone bridge which crossed a river outside the city.  Rollie trugded to the railing, looking down at the current below.  The river was about a half a kilometer wide.  And at that depth and speed they'd never find the body before it reached the ocean.
     Mira came up quietly behind Rollie, who stared off into space.  "I'm so sorry," she said.  "But fifteen people witnessed the whole thing.  It was her ...:"
     Francis walked up beside Rollie as well, putting his hand on Rollie's shoulder.  "Poor Angie."
     Rollie spun around.  His eyes were filled with tears as he looked at Mira.  "Angela ..." was all he could say.  "And I never got to tell her ..."  He turned around, and out over the railing, to the waters below which rushed to the horizon and beyond into infinity, to the blazing white sun and the trees and the shore, he cried out.  "I love you .... oh god I love you ..."

     He'd been here before.  He sat next to Mira, his hand tightly clenching hers, and watched as the priest spoke.  "And Miss Angela Ramirez will forever be remembered in our hearts ... may she rest in peace."
     Rollie's eyes squeezed shut.  He felt Mira shudder beside him.  It was a horrible deja vu.  With Leo ...

     And yet Angie looked on ... high above them ...she saw Rollie and Mira get up, holding hands — just as friends.  Friends who needed each other desperately.
     She cried.
     And a voice spoke.  "He loves you, doesn't he?"
     "I know he does."
     "Maybe someday you can be with him again."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Loubar is not dead.  We need you.  Join us."
     "Yes — yes, I said I would."
     The person the voice belonged to came out of the darkness behind Angie.  And more appeared with her.  Many more.  They were all Loubar's victims.  People from all races, colours, nations — and there were also secret agents, all in black.  They seemed to carry on forever.  There were so many.  So many ...
     "Good," said the leader, the voice, "and maybe someday we can let Rollie know.  We can make this work, now we have you."  And as the figure stepped forward even more, Angie could finally make out the face.
     She hadn't seen it for a while.

*   *   *

 
Part Two

     Angie gasped.  "Elena ..."

     Mira drove Rollie back to the loft.  He was too dazed to drive himself.  She was off duty anyway, and so she went in with him.
     He immediately, silently, went up to the VR chamber.  Mira followed quietly, and walked in with him.  She watched as Rollie slowly keyed in some information, and a 3-D video of Angie began to play on the front screen.  It was without sound, and was a few years old.  It had been when they had been first developing the VR chamber — a test video.  She seemed to be doing some work at the workbench.  Her lips moved as she talked to Rollie.  Then she turned, and looked straight at the VR camera lense — now, it was right into Rollie's eyes.  She grinned.
     Rollie paused the video, and then spoke for the first time since they'd entered the loft.  "She was so beautiful — I can't believe I never, never noticed it before."
     Mira put her hand on Rollie's shoulder.  "She was beautiful," she said softly.  "And you noticed."
     Rollie stood up, staring straight into Mira's eyes, his own welling up with tears.  Then he hugged her fiercely, and for the first time since he'd arrived at the bridge where she jumped he cried.
     "It's okay," said Mira.  "It's okay ..."

     "Welcome to our new world," said Elena, leading Angie into the control center.  There, up front, Angie could see the pilots of the secret plane quietly going about their business.  They'd flown out over New York, and were now somewhere off the coast over the Atlantic.  "We're all here — we're all dead."
     Angie's eyebrows raised.  "Dead?  You?"
     "Missing and presumed dead in the Amazon," said Elena.  "You can guess who I was tracking."
     Angie nodded.  "Everyone else here's dead?"
     Elena nodded.  "Including you.  Take Sam and Jeff up there," she pointed to the pilots.  "Their plane went down with two other cadets in the Rockies.  No one was found, although they did find a few chunks of flesh near the riverbank."  She made a face.  "Daryll, over there, was a Japanese diplomat when Loubar tried to get to him.  So he died of a heart attack thanks to some friends of mine in births and deaths in Washington.  Karen, a high-tech computer programmer and martial arts expert, was the unfortunate victim of a Loubar bomb.  Well, let's say they never found her in the rubble.  Ah, the list goes on."
     "And I'm the latest." said Angie.
     "Yes you are, my dear friend," said Elena. "It'll take you a few days to get used to our way of life, but you'll come to learn and love it."
     "So you guys have formed an underground group to kill Loubar?"
     "Yes, ma'am," said Elena.  "Sounds strange, and when we do kill him, we're fugitives from the law.  But we all agree it's better that way than having Loubar free."
     Angie nodded.  But inwardly she didn't believe their ways.  But hey, she was this far.  It was time to see what this was about.
     "Let me introduce you," said Elena, "to our operation ... "

*   *   *

 
Part Three

          A deep depression ran over Rollie.  He paced the workshop, wringing his hands, crying and shouting.  Then he collapsed into a chair.  And, miraculously, he fell asleep ...
          ... He was standing on the bridge.  The salty sea wind whipped his hair in his eyes, and he brushed it away.  He squinted down the bridge into the fog.  He could just make out a figure, standing at the railing, looking out over the wide expanse of water.  The figure stood stock still, frozen like a statue.  And then the fog cleared ...
          ... and he saw it was Angie.  Her eyes were filled with tears, her hands shaking.  She drew them to her face.  Slowly she swung one leg over the edge of the railing ...
          Rollie cried out in protest.  He wanted to run to her, pull her back, do anything he could to stop her ... but something was stopping him.  He felt hands gripping his shoulders, keeping him from moving.  Painfully, all he could do was watch ...
          She swung the other leg over the railing, standing on the slippery narrow ledge at the edge of the bridge.  She was gripping the railing with all her might, and her face was white from the strain.  She doesn't want to jump, realized Rollie.  This just made him more upset.  He tried to run ... run to her and grab her, and tell her it was okay ...
          But the hands stopped him.  He struggled, but the iron grip held him fast.  He swung his head angrily, getting a good look at who was holding him still ...
          ... and he saw Elena's face.  She was expressionless, watching as Angie leaned out over the water.  And Elena spoke, "It's all right," she said in a monotone.  "She'll be okay.  We'll keep her safe."  She turned to Rollie.  "You have my word."
           "Please, don't ..." Rollie pleaded, tears beginning to trickle down his face.  The wind howled, whipping the fog across the bridge, the wispy tentacles like ghostly arms of death ... but still Elena held on to his tall frame.
           Angie was struggling.  She knew she had to do it.  But she didn't seem to want to.  Dammit, thought Rollie, she doesn't want to.  Why can't she understand that?  Just stop.  Just come back ...
           ... and then she jumped.  "NOO!!" cried Rollie, trying to pull away.  And finally, Elena realeased her grip.  "You may see now," she said, "And you will know the truth."
           Rollie ran as fast as he could to the spot where she had jumped.  But he saw nothing down below.  She had disappeared.
           But then he saw movement below the bridge.  And a rope swung into view.  He turned to Elena, "Did she really ..." he began, but she had disappeared.
           Rollie looked around.  There was nobody on the bridge.  So he gingerly swung a leg over the bridge railing.  He looked down at the scaffolding below the main platform.  He carefully climbed down onto the scaffolding, trying to ignore the menace of the rushing water far below him.
           And he saw ...
           She hadn't ...
           Rollie awoke, sweat pouring down his face.  "Jumped," he finished, his eyes wide in a mixture of shock and happiness.

           "Elena!" called a voice.  Into the room hurried Karen, the computer programmer turned communications technician for the Operation.  "Intercept 3A, 4:22 K.A.Y., code yellow!"
           As Elena rushed to a computer station, one of the many high-tech machines the airplane had been refitted with, Angie said incredulously, "And what does that all mean?"
           "Outpost 3A, one of our six American computer monitors, this one in Denver, intercepted a message containing keyword ‘Loubar' at 4:22 am on one of Loubar's favourite message board hangouts," she said, scanning the information on the data screen.  "Here it is."  She read it silently, Angie peering intently over her shoulder.  "It's posted by The Advocate, one of Loubar's many handles, to Specialist.  It may look like nothing now, just a simple friendly ‘how's it goin' type of thing, but just wait."  She quickly keyed in a line of computer data.  The computer responded by  removing specific characters in a seemingly random order from the message and converting them into a pixel file which was at a set width and height.  The computer then distorted the pixel file at a specific angle, giving the letters a twisted, swirled look.  It looked like a large whirpool of the alphabet.  A message flashed across the screen which read Decoding Pixel file, and then the screen blanked, and the letters of the true message began to appear.
           "Dear Specialist," read Elena, "Yes, I will accept your request, but on my terms.  Bring eight million in unmarked U.S. bills to Parliament Hill in Canada at six o'clock Saturday morning.  You will recognize me.  The early bird gets the worm!  The Advocate."
           "Whoa," said Angie, "So that's Loubar?"
           "Yes ma'am," said Elena, logging off the console and straightening.  "Looks like he has another operation in the works.  Karen," she said, turning suddenly away from Angie and motioning for the technician to come, "who's Specialist?"
           Karen shrugged.  She was a small women, but very heavily built, and muscular, like Angie.  Angie looked at her.  They probably had a lot in common.  "Never seen the handle before.  Must be a new buyer."
           "But ‘You will recognize me,'" said Elena, echoing the message.  "This person must know Loubar and that he changes disguises faster than you can keep track.  They must know him from before."
           "I dunno," said Karen.
           "Wait," said Angie, barging into the conversation.  "What did ‘The early bird gets the worm' mean?"
 "Come on, Ang," said Elena, "He's meeting the buyer in Canada at six o'clock in the morning.  I think that phrase would about fit."
           "No, I don't think so."  Angie stared across the room.  "I think it must mean something else.  Loubar isn't the person to toss decorative writing into a message."
           Karen snapped her fingers.  "Wait a minute!" she said, her eyes lighting up.  "He's said that before!"
           "He has?' said Elena, cocking her head.  She couldn't remember.
           "Actually, no.  In a message addressed to Advocate, the author wrote the same thing."  Karen hurried to the computer console, logging on and hunting through the onboard computer's databanks.  "Here it is," she said.  "The early bird gets the worm."
           "Who wrote the message?" asked Angie.
           "Ace," answered Karen.
           "An Ace can be called Specialist," said Angie.  "Maybe Ace and Specialist are one and the same?"
           "Fine, fine, maybe they are," said Elena, "but where does that get us?"
           "Well," said Karen, "this message to Loubar was written six months ago as a thank you note for something Loubar had been hired to do.  So obviously Loubar's getting hired again for another job.  And look.  Using that message, we had managed to track down the author, a Dr. L.J. Elliot, a specialist currently residing in Detroit.  But he hadn't ever made any contact with Loubar after that message, and we couldn't lead up on anything.  And his records are spotless, and when we sent search teams to his house we turned up nothing."
           "You have search teams??" said Angie, amazed.
           "We have many people at our disposal," said Elena, smiling.
           "And going off topic," said Angie, "Who exactly do we work for?  I've seen people like those guys all over the plane."  She pointed across the room to where two men, dressed in black suits, carried on a quiet conversation, motioning at each other.  "They them?   Let me guess.  Government?"
           Elena's smile grew wider.  "Sort of," she said.
           "What do you mean —"
           "We'll talk about it later.  But now, we must head for Canada, and prepare."
           "For what?"
           "Well, you don't think we'll just let this exchange take place?  This is our big chance to get Loubar!"  Elena, visibly excited, hurried out of the room, shouting orders into the intercom connected to the flight deck.
           Angie turned back to the message sent by Loubar on the computer screen.  She read it again.  Karen came up behind her.  "Something wrong?" she asked.
           "No, nothing," said Angie.  "It just seems a little, well, odd.  Something's not right."
           Karen looked around, making sure no one was listening.  "Well, welcome to a world of odd-ness.  Angie, right?  Well Angie, even I don't quite know who those guys are.  Only Elena does.  And she doesn't wanna seem to tell.  But since we all want to catch Loubar, we somehow work together with them.  You get used to it."  She changed the subject, noticing one of the suits was watching her.  "Uh, you're into computers, right?"  Angie nodded.  "Here," she said, guiding Angie into a seat, "come check our setup ..."

*   *   *

 
Part Four

    The room was dark when Angie entered.  All the plane windows had been blocked so that the projection on the front screen, where Elena stood, could be easily scene.  Gathered were many people, all in on the plan to capture Loubar.  As Angie sat down, Elena began.
    "This is a map of the Parliament Hill in Canada, where Loubar is going to meet employer, Dr. Elliot.  We don't know quite what Loubar looks like, but Elliot should recognize him, and at six in the morning the area will hopefully not be busy.  In front of you are your assignments, either a character description or your listening post.  It's a large area we have to cover, so unfortunately we had to spread you fairly thinly."
    Someone raised their hand.  "Elena, what do we do if we locate Loubar?"
    "If you locate Loubar," she said, addressing the whole room, "do not, I repeat do not approach him.  Use your headset to call your group leader, whose name is listed at the top right-hand corner of your assignment sheet.  The group leader will in turn notify me, and then we will go in and capture Loubar.  But, again, only group leaders will approach Loubar."
    A hand raised.  "Ms. Serrano," said a flat voice, "please review the emergency procedures."  Angie turned quickly to the source of the voice, and noticed the question had been asked by one of the suits.  And although she'd now been on the plane for a few days, this was the first time she'd actually heard one of them speak.
    "Of course, sir," said Elena.  And she reviewed what should be done if someone was captured or shot by Loubar.  Angie didn't listen hard.  She was surprised that it seemed in the Operation the suits outranked Elena.  It was as if all they did was oversee the Operation, but let Elena do all of the organization and planning.  She wanted to talk again to Karen about it right away.

    Rollie wiped the sweat from his brow.  It was still soon after he'd had the dream, and it was very fresh in his mind.  Angie was still out there.  He knew it.
    He grabbed the remains of a takeout coffee, sipping the remains of the cool liquid.  He threw it in the garbage, and ran over to the Ambler.  He knew exactly what he had to do next.
    He watched it boot up, his excitement growing.  Finally it was ready, and he logged on to Angie's e-mail account.  He reviewed all of the messages she had received, and then all of the replies she had sent before her "death".  But now Rollie wasn't sure if she was dead or not.  The dream seemed true, strong.  If she was still out there, he wanted to know where.  Now.
    The e-mail search revealed nothing.  Searching the TRASH option revealed nothing either.  But then he noticed a hidden folder buried deep within everything else.  He clicked on it, and a message box appeared.  "Loubar Operation, Password Required."
    His heart jumped.  He knew that the truth was inside that folder.  He attempted to use one of the many password bypass programs they had on the Ambler to see if it could determine the folder contents without the typing the password.  After almost giving up, one easily got past the barrier.
    Rollie frowned.  That was easy, he thought.  Maybe Angie had let her guard down when she designed the passworded system.  But that didn't sound like her.  She'd be thorough, so that even she couldn't break into her own folder.  No, that must have been done purposefully.  It was very strange.
    Inside the folder was a long message sent by an E.S..  E.S. thought Rollie.  He knew he should recognize it, but right now it seemed to escape him.  So he continued reading.

    Dear Angie,
        I am sorry to hear about your encounter again with Victor Loubar.  I understand it
    must have been a difficult time for you.  Please, I ask that you meet me downtown at the
    corner of 12th and 43rd street at 3 pm on Sunday.  This is very important, and deals with
    Loubar.  I believe that you might be able to help us in our quest.

    The message was left unsigned.
    Rollie frowned.  Angie had died on the Tuesday.  So who was this E.S.?
    He decided to take a cab down to 12th and 43rd.  Tipping the cabby generously, he stepped out and surveyed the area.  At the north corner of the intersection was a small cafe, where Rollie decided to stop in.  The day was a hot one, and he felt in need of something cool to drink.
    After the waitress had taken his order, he noticed that she immediately approached the cafe owner.  Gesturing toward Rollie, she ran off to fill his order while the owner came over to Rollie's table.
    "Mr. Tyler?" he asked.
    Rollie was surprised.  "Yes -- do I know you?"
    "No, I don't think so.  But you are Rollie Tyler, are you not?"
    "Yes," said Rollie.  "I am."
    "Ah good," said the man.  "I have something for you.  A lady came by a few days ago.  She gave me it, saying if you ever came by I was to give it to you."
    Rollie was tense as the man reached into his dirty jacket pocket and pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope.  "I cannot remember her name," he said.  "But here."  He pushed the envelope across the table to Rollie just as the waitress came with his drink.  The owner stood up, and with the waitress, walked away to give Rollie some privacy.
    Rollie was genuinely amused, now.  This seemed like a little detective case -- or treasure hunt.  He tore open the envelope, and a small slip of card fell out.  Rollie recognized it as his business card.  Something was scribbled on the back.  He squinted to read it.  3928 Jefferson Ave, # 204.
    Finishing his drink, Rollie flagged down another cab, giving the Jefferson Ave. address.  He arrived at a large, new shopping centre.  Going through the main doors, he looked around at his surroundings.  Children played around plastic molded animals in the centre, while their parents watched, sitting at tables below the large skylight.  On either side stood many store outlets.  Spotting a store listing across the room, he hurried over.  The mall, according to the map, was large, and therefore was divided into six sections.  A store in the first section was listed in the 100's.  In the fifth section it was listed in the 500's.  He easily found store 204, but it had no name with it.  Locating it on the transparent, coloured map above the list, he headed down to where store # 204 was supposed to be located.  But, to his dismay, it was empty.  The entrance was boarded up, the neon sign above it blank.  A computer printed sign read, in faded letters, Closed for Renovations.
    Rollie, about to give up, noticed a piece of the board blocking the entrance was not nailed firmly to the rest.  Pulling on it, it easily broke off, providing a small opening into the store.  Rollie glanced around to see if anyone was taking any notice.  But this was New York.  No one seemed to be caring.  So he crawled through the opening.
    The store was dark, the only light coming through a small skylight in the back.  It was empty, too, save for a small computer at the back.  He walked toward it.  Something had to be here.  Angie, if it was Angie who gave wanted to give him the note, really wanted him to find out something.  He reached behind the computer, and set it up to boot.  It whirred, and beeped once.  It was a very old model, using the old Windows 3.1 operating system.  But when it finally booted, a message appeared on the screen.  It was a filename on the C: drive, which looked like a vid file.  Copying it down, Rollie entered it in the Run Program option in the main menu.  Then he watched it load ....
     .... and gasped.

*   *   *

 
Part Five
.

"Hello, Rollie," said Angie. The vid file was small, with a low resolution. But he could see that she was standing in the loft. It looked like a recording off the Ambler. "I see you have gotten this far -- now I believe it's time to tell you the truth. If you're watching this, you earned it."

Rollie watched the little video of Angie in the darkness. Her next words almost made him shout for joy. "I'm not dead.

"You were out one day when I received a phone call from Elena. She wanted to talk to me, and it was urgent. So I left the loft and hurried down to the cafe at the corner of 12^th and 23^rd, where we planned to meet. There she described the entire plan to us."

She took a deep breath, then continued. "Everything that follows is top secret. I would be in serious trouble for revealing this. Please, Roll -- this is between you and me. After our encounter with Loubar where he stole the biological weapon, Elena knew she could not fight him as a policewoman any longer. So she contacted some of Loubar's victims, and they planned and executed their 'deaths'. When she heard about our encounter with Loubar, she wanted you to join, too. But it seems Loubar was slightly suspicious. So they let you be, and instead, playing on my emotional instability following ... " she swallowed, " ... the rape, they chose me.

"As planning for my death continued, I knew that you, as a friend, should have a chance to know." She leaned closer to the lens. "Rollie, I know I can trust you, and I know you could find this file. Please, act as if I'm dead. I'll try to contact you, and you try to contact me. It won't be easy. They're monitoring my e-mail and telephones, even though the apartment is empty. They have cameras in the loft, which is why I couldn't let you see this file there. They're high-tech, and they're after Loubar as outlaws. We can get him, Rollie. We know we can.

"We operate out of an airplane. At this point I don't know what make it is or what call letters it works under. I'll try to let you know. Oh, and Rollie? Don't tell Mira. At least, not yet. The Operation's keeping her under close surveillance.

"Well," She suddenly grew slightly nervous, "I -- Rollie, there's another reason I'm recording this. I wanted to -- I wanted to let you know ... Rollie ...

"... I love you." The file continued for a second, and then winked off.

Rollie sat back, a goofy grin on his face. She loved him. She really loved him. And she was alive! The news made him, too, feel alive!

Coming to his senses, he realized he was trespassing in the mall. He deleted the file, and shut down the computer. Then he exited the store the way he had come in. But someone noticed. "Hey! What were you doing in there?"

Rollie turned and saw a security officer who had been lounging around on a bench with a coffee, obviously on his break. But now he'd left the coffee, and had grabbed his radio as he ran towards Rollie.

Rollie turned and ran through the mall. "Stop!" shouted the security officer. But Rollie kept running -- he wouldn't be able to explain entering that store!

Rollie turned around. The guard was gaining on him! Rollie dodged an old woman, and then saw, up ahead, an entire group of seniors moving slowly toward him. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it through the slow moving crowd without the guard catching him. His only way out was a hallway between two shops. He skidded, running straight down the long hall. At the end of the hall was a large set of steel doors which were probably the entrance to a loading dock. He barreled into them, but they wouldn't budge. He looked in horror at the padlock and chains holding them shut.

He spun around as the guard entered the end of the hall. "Get your hands up!" he said, holding a gun in his hands. Rollie put his hands up slowly. "Keep them there!" yelled the guard, his voice echoing off the aluminum walls. "I'm moving closer!"

Suddenly, behind the guard, a trio of large, burly men appeared. One weilded a machine gun, and the others had sledgehammers. "Get down!" yelled one of the men to Rollie, who dived to the floor just in time. The guard spun around to face the newcomers but was taken down by the man with the machine gun.

Rollie winced as the some of the bullets clanged against the heavy steel doors, only a few feet away from his head. When they stopped, he looked up to see the burly men racing towards him. "Get out of the way!" said the one with the gun.

"Who the hell are you?!" Rollie said, puffing.

"Let's just say we're on the same side," said a man with a sledgehammer. Swinging it, he brought it down on the padlock. After another two tries, the metal gave way, and the chains clattered to the floor. The man kicked open the door, and then grabbed Rollie and pulled him through.

The other two men jumped through the doors just as more mall security arrived. The swinging doors shut just as another hail of gunfire began

Rollie lay facedown in the dark loading dock. He winced, knowing those bullets were meant for them. After all, a security guard had just been shot.

The man with the sledgehammer flicked on the lights, reavealing long rows of crates on either side of them, and at the end of the room an empty tractor trailer. "Come on!" he shouted to Rollie and the others, and they ran for the truck. They leapt on just as the loading dock doors swung open, and security barged through. "Get your hands in the air!" yelled someone, but it was too late. As Rollie and the men pulled down the heavy steel door on the getaway truck, they felt it lurch into motion.

Inside the trailer, the man with the gun flicked on a flashlight. The bullets hitting the side and back of the truck let Rollie know they weren't out of the woods yet. The men, though, seemed extremely calm.

The engine roared, and there was a load crash. Rollie could immediately tell they were outside. He took his first breath for what seemed like an eternity. The three men who had saved Rollie stared at him, expecting him to say something.

Rollie looked at each of them. They each had their weapons laying on their laps, and they leaned back against the walls of the truck as it wound its way through the back streets of New York. Rollie heard the wail of police sirens in the distance.

Finally he spoke. "Wha -- what the hell is going on? Where are we going? Who are you?"

The gunman grinned, and spoke with a slight European accent. "We're helping you, Mr. Tyler."

The truck lurched to a stop, and there was a banging sound. Then the back doors of the truck opened, and Rollie was motioned to get out. Now they were inside a skating arena. The ice had been taken out for the summer, and the floor was slightly grimy. The air was cool.

The banging Rollie had heard were ladders being put up against the side of the truck. Men and women dressed in dirty blue coveralls, not unlike those of mechanics, quickly changed the signs on the truck. He watched as someone else came up with an electric screwdriver. The technician unscrewed the truck's New York license plate, and a Wisconsin plate was put in its place. Before Rollie's eyes, the truck was transforming. Even the shape of the cab at the front was being changed, as the boxy, sharp corners around the engine were removed, and underneath Rollie could see it was actually a very sleek design. Then, as quickly as the truck had driven in, it drove out through the Zamboni entrance, down the driveway, and onto the street.

Rollie rushed to the entrance, as did the technicians and the men who had taken Rollie in the mall. The truck pulled into the light traffic, and everyone watched with delight as the police cars that were screaming down the road shot right by it. There were a few cheers from the group, and then the technicians dispersed. Moments later, the arena was empty, except for Rollie and the men.

Rollie turned to them. "I, uh, don't mean to sound ungrateful, but who are you guys, really?"

The gunman smiled. "As I said, we're friends."

Rollie sighed. "But who do you work for?"

"We work for ourselves."

"Why help me?"

"We have a common goal."

"And that is?"

The man said nothing.

"Come on, I'd help you if I knew what you want."

Finally the man spoke, grinning. "We want the truth." He knew he was annoying Rollie.

Rollie groaned, exasperated. "Look, the riddles are fun and all that, but cut the crap!"

"All right, all right. We're hunting -- uh, searching, for the Operation. We want to know who they are, where they work, and everything like that."

Rollie was not that surprised. "Why do you want to find the Operation?"

The man paused. "We, we want to join."

Rollie nodded slowly. "Go on."

"Hey, man," said the man, handing his gun to one of the other men. "Let's talk about this later, eh? Do you, uh, want a coffee or anything?" He placed a hand on Rollie's back.

Rollie squirmed inwardly at the man's sudden friendliness, but he allowed himself to be guided out of the arena and towards a black limo. He wanted to find Angie, and it seemed these men might be able to help him. "No, no coffee," he said, as the driver of the car jumped out, hurried over to the door, and pulled it open. Rollie got into the back, and the man climbed in through the other door.

"All right," said the man, who tapped the window o the front compartment with the driver. "Go anywhere," said the man. "Take your time. Maybe go someplace nice for our friend Mr. Tyler here."

Rollie took a good look at the man who had saved him. He really hadn't had a chance to before. The man was slightly European, that was easy to see. He had short brown hair and a fairly square face, with a large jaw. He was cleanly shaven. His T-shirt was fairly form fitting, showing off his rippling muscles. He wore a pair of bluejeans cut off mid-thigh. Overall he looked to be about six four.

"Let me introduce myself," said the man. "My name is Richard Kienne. I work as a personal trainer at the highly regarded South Street Gym."

Rollie knew the place well, and he knew that only models and the very rich worked out there. He suspected he could get in, but he knew the bills were enormous. He smiled. Personal trainer -- that explained the guy's build. Rollie knew he would be a good friend to have in a fight.

The man leaned back, flicking on the air conditioning switch. The compartment cooled as Kienne continued. "A while back I was assigned a fairly slender man and was asked to build him up. I started him with the usual workout for men his size, but he wasn't satisfied. He didn't want to have to go through the usual steps to build up mass. He wanted the quick and easy way out. Steroids."

Rollie watched Kienne closely as he paused. He had no idea where this conversation was going. "I warned him of the hazards, but he went and took them anyway. And I saw the guy, later. He had built up muscle. But he wasn't happy, still. He kept taking them. Then one day he came in, high on something. It turned out he'd decided he enjoyed drugs so much he'd started takin' other kinds, like marijuana and later, LSD. He jumped on the counter, waving a gun around." Kienne drew in his breath, watching the scenery go by, not looking at Rollie. "He didn't know what he wanted. He ended up grabbing some money in the cash, and leaving. But not before he killed some people.

"A lot of people died from gunshot wounds, among them my close friend, a fellow by the name of Stan Chambers." He drew in a shaky breath. "Oh god."

Rollie was slightly amused. This conversation seemed too much like a performance. What was this guy trying to convince him on?

Rollie's answer came quickly. "That man was Victor Loubar."

They sat in silence for a moment. Out across the lake, Rollie could see the statue of Liberty. "Now you see why I want to join the Operation. I want to get back at Loubar. Make him pay -- make him understand the sadness he caused."

"So why get me?"

"We've been watching you. When your friend ... Angie? Yeah, Angie .. when she 'died', we knew that she had been recruited. We she left you a message, telling you what had really happened. And we know you still want to find her. Join us. You find her, and we will all join the Operation together." The man turned to Rollie, smiling hopefully. "Please."

Rollie didn't like this. He felt he was being pressured, trapped inside this car with one way out. To say yes. Nothing about this seemed right.

He looked back at the face looking at him. The face seemed to show genuine hope. Kienne reached out with his right hand, leaning closer to Rollie. "Join us." He raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly.

Rollie broke out in a grin, gripping Kienne's hand fiercely. "Deal."

*   *   *

 
Part Six

  "Angie, what can I do for you?"  Karen was lying on her bunk in the back of the plane, reading a worn novel.  She set it down when Angie approached.
    Angie sat down on her bunk, which was located across from Karen's.  "Can I ask you a question?" she asked.
    "Sure, shoot."
    "Why is Elena running this whole operation?  I mean, why kill Loubar?  He's wanted by the authorities.  Turn him over.  I'm sure they'd be pleased.  We could return to our normal lives, then, couldn't we?"
    Karen exhaled, leaning back on her bunk and staring at the ceiling.  "Yes, we certainly could turn Loubar over to the authorities.  And truthfully, I don't see why not.  But Elena's running this whole thing ... "
    "Why is it Elena running this whole thing?" interrupted Angie.  "I mean, look at this.  She is, or, she was a police officer.  Why is she leading everybody in a campaign to kill Loubar?  She doesn't want him killed.  I don't see why she'd want him killed."
    Karen raised her eyebrows, and Angie continued.  "Loubar knows so much.  They could capture him, inject him with drugs and make him tell the truth -- "
    "Angie, you've worked in the movies way too long.  It's not legal to inject someone with -- with 'truth serum'."
    "And it's not legal to kill someone either!  Don't you see it just doesn't make sense for Elena to be running the Operation."
    "All right.  I don't quite buy it, but I don't quite reject it either.  I certainly sounds plausible.  But answer for me this question.  If it's not Elena, then who?"
    "The suits," said Angie.
    "The suits?" said Karen.  "Why do you say that?"
    "I don't know.  It feels like there's something odd about them.  I don't trust them."
    "Angie, we don't even know what they are.  Why are you so certain it's them running this?"
    "As I said, it feels like it."
    "But you admit, you don't know for sure it's them."
    "No, I don't.  But I do know someone who can tell us."
    "Who?  Elena?"
    "No.  She knows, but I don't think she'll tell us.  No, I want to try something else.  Let me think about it."  Suddenly the plane jolted from turbulence.  Angie looked outside.  It was early evening, about 7:45.  They were still in flight.  She had no idea over where.  She had no idea how they managed to get into Canadian airspace, and she had no idea where they had managed to get all of the fuel keeping them in the air.
    There was another jolt, and then a slight vibrating sound, along with a low hum.  "Karen," said Angie, looking towards the roof, "what's that sound?"
    "That sound?" said Karen.  "I don't know.  It happens every once in a while -- every few days we're in the air."
    Suddenly it hit Angie, and she looked straight at Karen.  "Tell me," she said quickly, before her idea began to sound ridiculous to her, "where is it we get fuel?  I mean, we haven't landed since we took off from New York, and it's been a long time since we left there.  Five days at least!"
    Karen shook her head.  "I don't know."
    Angie looked at the roof again.  "You can't keep a plane like this in the air for five days without refueling," she said quietly, more to herself than Karen.  "Come on," she said, pulling Karen up.  The plane bumped slightly again.  Angie walked out of the women's section, and into the main hub of the Operation.  Although computers took up most of the space in the central part of the craft, a few windows had not been blocked.  "Look!" said Angie, pointing out one window just above the wing.  A dark shadow had come across the wing.  Angie moved to that window, and tried to see forward.  "There!" she said, her face pressed against the window.  "Look!"  She pointed up and forward and they could see, high above them, the black wing of a tanker aircraft.  "Mid-flight refueling!"
    "So what?" said Karen.
    "Look closely -- you can see the call letters on the wing."  She fished into her pocket and wrote down the call sign on a small notepad.  "It's an American plane.  Now we'll run this through records and see what comes up.  It might bring us one step closer to who's helping us!"
    Karen shook her head.  "It'll never work.  Angie, this is a huge longshot -- "
    " -- but it's our only shot if we're ever going to get fully informed!  Come on, you have computer access and can hack into the national aircraft registry databanks.  And if you can't I can.  So what do you say?"
    Karen sighed.  "All right, let's take a look."  She made her way over to a free station, logging on.  Then Angie watched as she hacked into the register, searching for the call sign Angie had copied off of the tanker's wing.  The search came up negative.  "Not found," read Karen.
    "All right," said Angie, thinking.  "Let's try something else.  Bring up a list of all of the tanker planes in the states.  There can't be that many."  She was right.   A list of only about one hundred planes was presented on the screen.  "Now," said Angie, going on a hunch, "see if any of those happen to be in service -- I mean, in use."
    Karen keyed in the information, and waited for the server to give it back to her.  "Only half are in active use," she said.
    "Okay," said Angie.  "Now, since the call sign search came up negative, we must assume that the call sign was changed by whoever's using it.  And it wasn't legally changed, or else it would be listed on the record.  So that leaves that route blocked."  She paused.  "Try a search for those located only in the northern U.S.  Say, Michigan, Illinois, and other states around there."
    Karen stopped.  "Angie, you know what we're going to find.  Even if there are just a few planes in the Northern United States, how are we going to prove they're this one?"
    "Just check," said Angie.  "It's a horrible longshot, I admit.  But check."
    The list shortened considerably.  Only eight tanker planes were listed in the northern U.S.  "Now go through their records," Angie said, "one at a time."  Karen was about to object again, but Angie raised her hand.  "Records."
    Karen brought the first one on the screen.  There was nothing out of the ordinary about its record.  There was nothing strange about the next five either.  But when they reached the seventh, they got a surprise.
    "There must be something wrong," said Karen.  "Most of its information is gone!  Specs, capacity, age ... "
    Angie smiled.  "That's the one," she said, reading the call sign aloud.   Then she noticed something.  "Look -- one of the few things listed is the ownership.   It's privately owned!"
    "So?"
    "Owned by a T.G. Industries.  Recognize that?"
    Karen's jaw dropped.  "What?"
    Angie looked from her to the screen.  "Huh?"
    "T.G. Industries???  Oh my God, I can't believe it ... "
    "What's wrong?"
    Angie didn't like what she heard next.

    "So tell me again, where are we going?" said Rollie to Kienne.  He, Kienne, and many others had piled into the back of a tractor trailer which had been on the highway for a few hours.
    "Ottawa," said Kienne.  "According to our sources, the Operation is going to be landing there to refuel.  We will confront them then, and get them to let us join."
    Rollie still didn't trust Kienne, but he nodded to him approvingly.  Something very strange was going on.  He didn't see why the Operation would be landing their plane so far north for something as simple as a refueling.  He suspected there was more that was going to happen then Kienne was telling him.  Maybe the Operation had to meet someone in Ottawa.  He didn't know.
    He decided to check in with his e-mail account.  He'd set the Ambler to forward any messages to his PDA, which was connected with the telephone system because of the distance.  He was expecting an e-mail from Mira, as she had promised to check in with him and let him know what was happening with the Loubar investigation.  Rollie hadn't told her anything about what had happened to Angie, or the fact Loubar was still alive.  He felt slightly guilty, but he knew what would happen if he did tell her.
    Moving to the back of the trailer, he activated the PDA.  Moments later, two messages appeared on the small screen.  One was from Mira, which said the same thing as many others had from her.  Nothing so far.
    But he was surprised to see there was a second.  It had been sent from a free e-mail account on the web.  The user's name was listed as Tanya.
    Tanya? thought Rollie.  That was a surprise.  He hadn't talked much with the girl after their work finished on her father's movie.  He opened it.
    But it wasn't from Tanya.  Rollie's jaw dropped as he realized it had been sent by Angie.

       6:34 p.m.
       Rollie,
        He's in Ottawa.  We're going to attempt to capture him tomorrow.
    The plan's in the works.  If we do, I'll see if I can leave the
    Operation and come back to life and join you - :-)
                                            Love,
                                            You-know-who

    Loubar was in Ottawa?  So that's what Kienne must be hiding from Rollie!  But if they were going to capture Loubar tomorrow, why join now?  If Angie could leave the Operation when they had Loubar, why join then?
    Rollie walked back over to Kienne.  "Hey, Richard," he said.
    "Yeah," said the man.  He'd been half asleep until Rollie approached him.
    "Where in the Operation is your source?  Right in the heart of it?"
    "Yep," said Kienne.  Then his eyes grew dark.  "Why do you want to know?"
    "Oh, nothing," said Rollie, trying to walk away.
    "I said," Kienne rumbled, "why do you want to know?"  He grabbed the PDA.  Rollie was sure that Kienne wouldn't know what the message meant.  But for some reason, Kienne's eye's grew wide -- then narrowed.
    He whipped the PDA across the little room, rising to his feet.  "So, your girlfriend's in the Operation and she's still talking to you?" he said.  "I thought when we recruited you I'd taken care to make sure you didn't get any little messages from her."  Rollie found himself backing up to the rear doors of the trailer as Kienne slowly walked closer to him.  "Well, I guess I wasn't as thorough as I thought -- "
    "Wha -- ?"  Rollie couldn't figure this one out.
    " -- well, now you know, I won't wait to hand you over to him, Tyler.  Now that you know, I think you've earned the right to die right now!!"  Kienne lept toward Rollie, who found himself pressed against the back door of the trailer ...

    It was quarter to nine that night when Karen and Angie barged into Elena's office.  They saw Elena dozing in her chair.  She awoke suddenly when Angie tapped her rather forcefully on the shoulder.  "Angie  -- wha?  What's going on?"  She sat up.  "We have to get Loubar tomorrow and you guys should be asleep!  We're landing in Ottawa in a few hours!"
    "We need to know something," said Angie, crossing her arms.
    "What is it?" said Elena, still slightly groggy.
    "We just refueled."  Angie's voice grew slightly urgent.  "Who's tanker was it?"
    Elena grew her all-knowing smile.  "Oh, just any old -- "
    She was interrupted when Angie slammed both hands on Elena's desk, exclaiming, "Cut the crap, Elena!"
    Elena shot out of her seat.  "Angela Ramirez what the hell is -- "
    "Tell us!" growled Angie.
    Elena sat back, eyeing Angie and Karen.  "You guys shouldn't worry yourself with -- "
    Karen couldn't hold herself back.  "We shouldn't worry ourselves?!  We are in grave danger right now and you have to tell us -- " her voice grew quiet, " -- who's tanker that was."
    A look of confusion crossed Elena's face.  "Danger?  What kind?"
    "You tell us, we tell you," said Angie.  "Now, one more time -- "
    "All right," said Elena, putting a hand out to Angie to hold her back.  She turned and looked out at the almost black sky.  "It's the suits'.  I don't know where they got it from -- I just follow orders."  She turned back to the pair who had barged into her office.  "Now what is this about grave danger?"
    Angie opened her mouth to speak, but for a second words didn't come out.  "Elena, we could all be killed very soon if you don't tell us one more thing.  Do you know what the suits are, and how did they get on this plane?"
    "All right, I'll tell you.  When we first set up the Operation, they approached me.  They said they had reasons to kill Loubar, and that they'd join us.  We get them Loubar, they'd deal with him.  I never found out if they work for the government or what."
    The colour had drained from Karen's and Angie's faces.  "Elena, those suits work for Loubar," said Karen softly.
    Elena was startled.  "No, that can't be -- Loubar works alone."
    "No, he's got help -- and lots of it.  We traced ownership of that tanker to T.G. Industries."
    "That sounds familiar," said Elena.
    "That's right," said Angie.  "It's a front company for an organization that Loubar is a high standing member of."  Angie leaned closer to Elena, coming eye to eye with her.  "Elena, Loubar know exactly what we are doing, exactly where we are landing, he knows our plans because his spies -- "
    She was interrupted when the door came crashing down.  Two suits carrying large assault rifles with directional lasers entered, pointing them at the trio.  " -- are right here,"  finished one, aiming the laser dot right for Elena's head.

*   *   *

 
Part Seven

    Rollie's eyes darted around the inside of the trailer.  Kienne was approaching him slowly, grinning evilly.  Everyone else in the trailer was passive -- watching quietly, smiling.  Rollie had no idea what was going on, but he knew that Kienne would kill him.
    Then Kienne lept at him.  Rollie jumped to the side as Kienne hit the back doors of the trailer.  Kienne grabbed Rollie's leg, pulling him to the ground.  Rollie kicked, hitting Kienne in the jaw with the toe of his boot.  Kienne rolled toward the front of the trailer, then jumped back to his feet.
    Rollie found himself pressed against the rear doors of the trailer again.  His hand closed around a handle.  Knowing it was his only chance, he pulled it.
    The wind caught the door, and it flew open.  They were driving down a fairly quiet road -- the sun had set, its glow almost gone.  Rollie considered jumping, but they were going too fast.  He would be seriously hurt -- even killed -- if he landed on the ashphalt at that speed.  He whirled around, to see Kienne was advancing on him again.  Kienne's eyes had a murderous look to them.
    Rollie made his decision.  The wind caught the door again, swinging it back toward him.  He grabbed it, and pushed against the truck's bumper.  The door swung outward 180 degrees.  Quickly Rollie reached up, grabbing onto the roof of the trailer.  His fingers dug into the metal as he pulled himself up onto the roof.
    But then a hand caught his ankle.  Rollie looked down and saw Kienne, leaning slightly out the back of the doorway, grinning.  Rollie kicked, trying to get his leg free.  But the iron grip was too strong.  Rollie found his hands slipping as Kienne began to pull him off the roof.
    Then Rollie looked up.  Speeding toward them was another truck.  In the dark it could not see Rollie, but Rollie could certainly see it.  And as the truck sped past, a strong blast of wind pushed him upward again.  Below him, Kienne lost his grip on Rollie's leg.  Rollie scrambled up onto the roof.  He crawled the length of the trailer on his stomach.  The wind was strong, always fighting him.
    He had just made it to the front of the trailer when he heard a sound behind him.  He turned around, and saw Kienne had also climbed onto the roof, and was coming closer, shouting angrily.
    Rollie had known that there was a ladder at the front of the trailer, and now he swung one leg over the edge of the roof.  He felt his toe touch the rung, and he began to climb down.  Now he was standing between the cab and the trailer, just above the hitch.  He looked down, and saw the road rushing by beneath him.
    He looked around.  He spotted a small ledge running from the driver's door to the edge of the wheel well.  Finding a handhold, he swung himself around the corner of the cab onto the ledge.
    Rollie knew Kienne was close.  He hurried across the narrow ledge, and his hand closed around the doorhandle on the driver's side.  He yanked it open, startling the driver of the tractor trailer.
    "What the hell!" exclaimed the man, reaching across the seat.
    Rollie didn't want to see what the man was going to pull.  He punched the man on the side of the face, pushing him across the seat.  Rollie swung a leg inside the cab, grabbing the steering wheel.  He had just sat on the seat when Kienne appeared outside the cab.  "Miss me?" he shouted to Rollie, grinning.
    "Get off," said Rollie, attempting to keep the truck on the road.
    "I don't think so," Kienne chuckled.  Rollie looked up to see he'd pulled a gun, aimed right at Rollie's head.  "Brake -- now."
   Rollie did as he was told.  "Get out," said Kienne, when the truck had stopped.  "Keep your hands in the air."  Slowly, Rollie jumped out of the cab.  It was almost pitch black, now, the only light coming from the truck's running lights. They were in the middle of a long bridge.  He felt a pang of sadness as he remembered standing on a bridge, like this one, when he thought Angie had jumped.
    The barrel of the gun dug into his back, pushing him toward the railing.  Behind him, Kienne was laughing quietly.  "This is actually a good place.  Remind you of anywhere?  Never mind.  You won't remember much very soon."
    Rollie reached the railing.  Below him, the water churned.  The current was strong -- Kienne knew that would make it difficult to find Rollie's body.  Slowly, Rollie turned to face Kienne.  "So, this is it?"
    Kienne backed up a step.  "Yep," he said, aiming the gun at Rollie's head ...
    ... a car horn blasted.  A car was approaching the bridge, and the driver could see Kienne in his way.  As Kienne's attention faltered for a second, Rollie's arm snaked out and grabbed the gun, pushing it away.
    But Kienne was stronger, and he wrestled the gun away.  Then, knowing it was now or never, he pulled the trigger ...
    Rollie's body fell over the railing, hitting the water below.

    Angie gasped as the suits crashed through the door.  They lifted their guns up, pointing them at her, Elena, and Karen.  Angie looked down to see three laser dots pointed at her chest.  "Congratulations," said one of the suits.  "You found us out."
    "Who the hell are you?!" shouted Elena.
    "No talking," snapped the speaker.  "Besides, Elena, you should be congratulating your friends here.  They discovered us.  We thought we'd covered everything up."
    "And what exactly did you cover up?" blurted Karen.
    The man laughed.  "A lot of things.  Elena, I'm sorry to say, this entire adventure, this -- " he motioned around, " -- entire plane, the 'Operation' -- was all Loubar."
    "What do you mean?!" shouted Angie.
    "I mean, that from day one, Loubar knew what you were doing and what you were planning.  He's set everything up.  This little, excursion, to Ottawa -- all his idea."
    "Why?" growled Elena.
    "You are his enemy.  All of you.  And he wanted to get rid of you.  So what better way to get everyone together than unite them on a hunt to kill him?"
    "Get rid of us?" said Angie in disbelief.
    "You're pests to him.  You get in the way.  Your friend Tyler, too.  He's on his way to Toronto by a different route.  So, now he has all of you in his hands."
    "And he's going to kill us?" exclaimed Karen.
    "Why, of course."  Suddenly he turned to Elena.  "No farther."
    She had slowly been advancing toward him, almost unnoticeably.  "I'll shoot."
    Elena sneered.  "You wouldn't.  We're in a plane, forty thousand feet above the St. Lawrence river.  It's called explosive decompression."
   "Don't bet on it," laughed the man, training his gun on the wall of the aircraft.  Then he pulled the trigger.  The wall of the plane was riddled with bullet holes.  But nothing happened.
    "The bullets are hard enough to pass through human flesh, but disintegrate easily.  And besides -- Loubar made sure the walls of this plane were made bulletproof."  Elena shrunk back.  "Sorry," he sneered.
    "So what now?" said Angie.  "You kill us all?  You and your," she motioned behind the leader, "friends?"
    "You know, I might, but I think that instead we'll land.  Victor's so been looking forward to this."  Suddenly a phone rang, and the man pulled it out of his pocket.  "Hello?  Oh, really?" He grinned.  "Yes, thank you oh so very much, goodbye!"  He pressed a button, placing the phone back in his pocket.  "I have interesting news for you, little Angie."  Angie frowned at that, but listened carefully, not sure what to expect.  "It's about your boyfriend, Tyler."
    "What about him?" said Angie, dread growing in her stomach.
    The gunman laughed lightly, eyebrows raised as he stared at Angie.  "He's dead!"

*   *   *

 
Part Eight

    Angie grew cold, and she froze.  "Rollie's ... "
    The suited figure holding the gun on her grinned.  "Yes, ma'am!"
    Angie's face contorted, and fire rose in her eyes.  "You killed him you bastards! ... "  She lunged for the man, but Elena and Karen wrestled her back.
    "Get her out of here!" growled the man.  Quickly the other suits pulled Angie, Elena, and Karen out of the room and into the central area, where all the rest of the Operation's members were being kept.  Then the suits turned and moved toward the cockpit.  "Get control of the plane," said the leader, motioning to those under his command.  "Bring the pilot and copilot back here."
    Karen, who had been pushed to the floor, stood up and moved to Elena.  "Now what?" she said, frustrated.
    "We cooperate," said Elena.  She looked over at Angie, who was keeping quiet, huddled in the corner. "Poor Angie," she said.
    "Do you really believe Tyler is dead?" asked Karen.
    "Coming from those guys, I don't know," admitted Elena.

    The couple sat in old, rusty lawn chairs on the dock, gazing out over the lake.  The old woman grasped the even older man's hand in hers, and they gazed out in the distance.  A bird called, off in the distance.  This far down the river, the current had died, and the water was still -- as smooth as glass.
    The silence was soothing.
    Then, upstream, the woman thought she heard a noise.  She sat up in her chair, straining to see down the river in the darkness.  She turned to her husband, but he had fallen asleep, snoring softly.
    She stood, the chair creaking.  The sound grew louder.  Fishing into her pocket, she shakily put on her spectacles.  Now she could she the source of the splashes.  In the faint light of the moon, she could see a figure swimming down the river.  He came to a stop on the bank just upstream from her.  Now, scared, she jabbed her husband in the shoulder.  "Honey!" she said.  "Terry, wake up!"
    The man groaned.  He opened his eyes.  "What is it, dear?"
    "Look!" she said.  She pointed with an old, worn finger at the tall man stumbling weakly out of the water.  The man took a doubletake, then heaved himself out of his seat.  "Go inside the house, sweetie," he said.  As she hurried back to the house, he cautiously walked down the bank, limping slightly from an old war injury.  "Hey!" he exclaimed.  "You there!"
    The figure looked up, and the man got a good look at him.  His thick, dark hair hung limply, soaked in the cold river water.  His clothes were torn, and were also dripping wet.  He stood, his chest heaving from exhaustion.  He stepped forward, slowly, then collapsed.
    The old man hobbled forward, until he was within arms length of the swimmer.  "Are -- are you okay?" he said.
    The figure didn't respond.  The old man touched his neck.  His skin was cold, and even in the moonlight it was easy to see he was pale.
    The old man spun around.  "Veronica!" he shouted in the direction of the house.
    His wife appeared.  "Who is it?!" she called back.
    "Get some blankets!" said the old man.  "Hurry!"  Then he turned back to the figure.  "Can you walk?"
    The man nodded.  Then, with the old man's help, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way slowly into the house.

    The plane landed at the Ottawa airport at about one in the morning.  Watching out the window, Angie saw them enter a small hanger off the runway, away from the main terminals.  Then they stopped, and the suits' leader stepped into the main area, and spoke to the captives.  "Step out of the plane quietly," he ordered, "and gather on the far side of the hanger. No tricks, or you'll be sorry!"  Then, motioning with his gun, he began to herd the first of them out.
    Karen went over and squeezed Angie's arm.  "Come on, Ang," she said.
    "We're all going to die," said Angie, scared.
    Karen bit her lip.  "No we won't.  We'll get out of it.  You'll see."
    Angie looked up into Karen's eyes, and Karen saw a look of loss and fear in Angie's eyes.  "How do you know?" said Angie.
    "Because there's me, you, Elena, and all the others.  We'll get through.  You'll see.  We should be happy.  Instead of searching for Loubar, we're going to be led right to him.  Now come on," she said, pulling Angie to her feet.
    Angie went with her, sadly.  Together, they stepped out the doorway of the plane.  The hangar was empty, except for the line of people being led off the plane by the suits.  Elena, behind Karen and Angie, counted them.  Six, she thought.  And thirty-four of us.  Her mind began to work.
    They were being led to the far end of the hangar, where there was a smaller, enclosed room, large enough to fit about fifty people in.  The windows to the room were blocked by large crates.  As Elena was led past them, she glanced at a label on one, her heart jumping as she entered the room.  It read Explosives.
   "Sit," said the suit, watching the people closely.  "On the floor."
    Elena sat down on the clean, wood floor.  The rest of the Operation's members followed her, and did the same.  She watched the suits closely.  Four stayed outside of the room, talking amongst themselves.  The leader and another stood inside.
    "Now what?" said the lesser ranking suit.
    "We wait for Victor," said the leader.  "And make sure they stay put."
    The other nodded, and then they both stepped out of the room as well, to join a now heated debate between the other four.
    Elena stood slowly, moving about the room, making sure everyone from the team was okay.  Lastly, she came upon Angie and Karen, who sat together, apart from the rest of the group.  "How are you holding up, Angie?" asked Elena softly.
    Angie bit her lip.  "I'm okay," she said quietly.  Elena looked at her.  She looked like a small, scared child who had just lost a best friend.  But really, that was exactly what had happened.  Elena wanted to hug her.
    "And you?" inquired Elena to Karen.
    "I'm fine," said Karen.  "So, any bright ideas on how to get us out of here?"
    Elena shook her head.  Then she noticed something.  Tucked in Angie's back pocket was her PDA.  She remembered how Angie had never wanted to part from it on the plane.  Now it just might be their ticket to freedom.  "Angie," she said, "hand me your PDA, quickly."
    Angie looked up, confused.  She had totally forgotten the small machine was on her person.  She pulled it out of her pocket, and handed it to Elena, who sat beside Karen.  "Can you access the plane's computers?" she said.
    "The computers?" said Karen.  "I -- I don't know.  I'm not familiar with this."
    "I am," said Angie, her voice growing strength now she knew they had a chance.  "What system do you want?"
    "Just the main computer," said Elena.  "Can you do it this remotely?"
    "Possibly," said Angie.  Then, with Karen's and Elena's help, she began to access the onboard functions.  Finally, after two close calls when the suits almost discovered what they were up to, Angie smiled.  "We're in," she said.
    Elena, who had moved across the room, hurried back over.  "Good work," she said.  "Now, access program Funeral, password JRMO."
    "Funeral?" said Karen.  "I don't recognize that."
    "That's 'cause you never knew it existed," said Elena.  "I created it when we first started the Operation.  For emergencies like this .... "

    The old couple stared at the figure huddled in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets.  His wet clothes had been hung above the fireplace.  "Who are you?" said the man.  "And what were you doing in the freezing river water this time of night?"
    The figure smiled sadly.  "Thank you for saving me," he said.  "My name ... is Rollie Tyler ... "

    As Elena spoke, Angie keyed in the information she had been given.  "So what does this all do, Elena?"
    "It'll get us out of here," said Elena.
    Angie sighed, slightly annoyed.  But Elena was grinning.  Finally, she hit enter, and a timer appeared on the PDA's screen.  Thirty seconds and counting.
    They sat in silence.  "Elena .. " said Karen as the timer reached ten seconds.
    "Don't worry about all the stuff," said Elena.  "The explosion won't be that big.  Besides," she said, grinning, "it's not my plane ... "
    The seconds ticked down, and finally time ran out ...
 
 

*   *   *

 
Part Nine

    The explosion ripped across the tail of the long plane, progressing down its length to the cockpit.  Soon the entire plane was a gigantic fireball, and flames shot high toward the ceiling of the hangar.  Inky, thick black smoke mushroomed from the fiery hulk of twisted steel and metal, tendrils of it extending towards their captors across the hangar.
    The lead suit shouted in alarm as the plane exploded, running back to the room where the Operation members were being held.  He swung his gun in the air, letting a volley of bullets shoot into the ceiling to get their attention.  "Everybody out!" he yelled over the explosions, pushing the first of them out the door.
    Angie, Elena, and Karen smiled, knowing that their chance to escape was coming.  As they were shoved through the door, they caught their first glimpse of the plane.  Elena's smile fell, seeing all of their efforts literally going up in smoke.
    They were led through the smoke across the room, toward a doorway into the night.  But the smoke was growing thicker by the second.  Elena and the others knew that this was their chance.  Their eyes all stung from the smoke, but she could just make out one of the suits.  Running up, and with the others following her lead, she kicked the gun out of his hands.  Then somebody hit him over the head, and she saw him fall to the ground.  Grabbing him under the arms, she began to pull her captor out of the hangar.
    Soon everybody was out into the night.  FIre trucks and emergency crews had hurried over.  The hangar was now itself on fire, and they struggled to keep it under control.
    Elena counted, and found everyone accounted for.  She rose, and moved over to where Angie and Karen were keeping track of the six suits.  Angie looked haggard but slightly excited to be holding a gun on them, as was Karen.
    But they knew they couldn't stay there for long.  The police were going to arrive soon, and they would probably undergo some heavy questioning and would be in quite a lot of trouble.  Spotting a large empty airport shuttlebus arriving at the scene, she waved it down.  The confused driver approached Elena.  "We need to get out of here," she said to him, motioning to the thirty or so people behind her.
    "But you guys need to stay for questioning ... "  But the driver never got to finish.  Karen quickly approached him from behind and punched him on the side of the head.  He fell to the ground, unconscious.  Then, pulling the semi-conscious suits onto the bus, they drove off.
    "So where are we going?" said Karen to Elena, who was driving the bus away from the burning airplane hangar.
    "As far away from here as possible," said Elena.
    A shout came from the back of the crowded bus.  "Police!"
    Elena caught a glimpse of the flashing lights in the side mirror on the bus.  They were approaching quickly -- the bus was no match for the powerful police sedans.
    Elena knew she had to do something quickly. She reached an intersection -- the right road led to the exit ramp, while the left was a dead end between two large hangars.  Having a sudden brainstorm, she turned left.
    "What are you doing?!" exclaimed Karen incredulously, "This is the wrong way!"
    Elena smiled slyly.  ''I know what I'm doing," she said, spinning the van 180 degrees so it faced the exit ramp.  Soon, around the corner spun two police cars, sirens wailing.  She slammed her foot down on the gas pedal, shooting toward the two cars.  At the last second the two cars parted.  Elena shot right between the police cars, which spun out, hitting the metal walls of the hangars on either side of the road.
    The passengers cheered, and Elena managed a grin as they drove off the exit ramp onto a busy divided highway.  Taking the first exit, she drove a dizzying path around the city, losing any other police tails that might be following them.
    The bus had been quiet for a while, and finally Angie spoke.  "So where to now?"
    Elena blinked, then grinned as they passed a quiet, rundown all night pizza joint.  "Anybody hungry?".

    The old couple were very nice to Rollie.  Although they knew little about him, and where he had come from, they developed a liking for the unfortunate special effects expert.  Rollie had won their love and admiration, concocting a untrue story about traveling to meet a lost love across the border.  He told them that he had been stopped by a group of teenagers on the side of the road, who, pulling guns, ordered him out of the car, and then shoved him off of the bridge.  "The current dragged me downstream," he said.  "Thank god you found me."
    The husband smiled.  "Perhaps I can drive you back to the bridge," he said to Rollie.
    "No, I don't think so," said Rollie.  "They drove off with my car -- I couldn't do anything.  Please -- can you drive me to a police station?"
    The couple agreed, and the old man led Rollie to a weather beaten pickup sitting in the driveway.  It started noisily, and as the old man shifted it into gear it squealed slightly in protest.  Rollie winced at the sound, and would have liked to help him fix the problem, but he reminded himself he was lying to the nice man and woman who had come to his aid.  The image of Loubar reuniting with Angie made him shiver, and he knew he had to get to Ottawa quickly to save her.
    The man dropped Rollie off in front of the station, and Rollie thankined him kindly, waving at him as he drove off.  Then, instead of walking into the police station, he turned and stood at the side of the highway, and thumbed a lift with a friendly truck driver to the border town.

    A few hours later, Elena, Karen, and Angie sat in their hotel room, discussing their next move.  After a large meal of greasy yet satisfying pepperoni and cheese pizza, they rented a few large minivans from a car rental station.  After taking another zigzagging route through the city, the reached a quiet motel.  The owner was asleep at the desk, but was eager to help them when they booked all of his eight rooms.
    "We know Loubar is in the city," said Elena, "it's just where?"
    Angie glanced through the door and across the hall, where one of the rooms was being taken up by the captors turned captives, the mysterious suits, who were guarded by two of the Operation's members.  "I don't know," she said, "but I think they can tell us."
    "We're going to have to watch our backs," said Karen.  "Loubar was to arrive at the hangar sometime this morning.  When he shows up and finds it burnt to the ground, with us long gone, he's going to go on the hunt, and we're probably not going to be safe anywhere."
    Angie suddenly gasped.  "Elena ... Rollie!" she said.  "Didn't they," she motioned across the hall, "say he was being brought here, and was killed."
    Elena leaned forward.  "I'm sorry -- " she started, but Angie stopped her.
    "No -- he's okay.  I know."
    "What do you mean you know?" said Karen.
    "I know," she grinned, holding up her PDA, "because he just e-mailed me."

    Rollie watched as the PDA flashed Message Sent across its small screen, and he hoped that Angie was still carrying hers, and that it was still remotely connected to the phone lines.  He had been lucky he'd grabbed the PDA when he escaped from the truck, and had kept it in its waterproof pouch.  Now he waited for some way to get across the border.
    Rollie stood at one end of the international bridge crossing the St. Lawrence River into Canada.  The traffic was light, but Rollie saw his chance to get across the border as a large truck approached.  It slowed as it reached the bridge, and the driver reached out to pay the toll.  As he did so, Rollie sneaked through the darkness and climbed into the back of it, lowering the canvas flap over the back of the truck so that no one could see him.  The engine rumbled, and soon the truck pulled out and crossed the bridge.  As it stopped for Canadian customs, Rollie waited nervously.  The driver was given no hassles, and he pulled away from the customs booth and into the city.
    The truck pulled to a stop at an all night convenience store, and Rollie jumped out.  A few transport trucks were parked nearby, and Rollie approached the drivers warily, making sure none were Kienne's men.  They weren't, and soon Rollie had found himself a lift to the Canadian captial.

    "Angie," Elena read aloud.  "Got thrown off bridge, nice old couple rescued me.  I'm on my way -- let me meet you somewhere.  There's always a way, Love Rollie.  Angie, how do we know this isn't a Loubar trick?"
    "Elena," said Angie, "Rollie always says there's always a way.  Besides, Victor doesn't know Eldon, an assistant of ours, and it's sent from his address.  Elena, don't you see, he's alive!"
    Elena sighed, contemplating whether Angie should answer.  Finally she nodded.  "All right," she said, "tell him you'll meet him here at noon.  In the meantime, I suggest that we check on our friends then get some sleep, agreed?"  Angie and Karen nodded.

    Rollie's PDA beeped, and Rollie fished it out of his pocket.  He had sent his message from Eldon's account, and he was amused to find the answer came back from a free e-mail account site on the internet, username Eldon'sGirlfriend.
       Rollie,
        Meet at the Sleepy Owl Inn, 7443 Teardrop Ave, at noon.  Good
        to know you're back.  We ditched Loubar, but he may find us -
        or you.  Watch your back.
                                        All my love,
                                        Angie
    The truck driver glanced at Rollie.  "What's that?" he said, pointing to the PDA.
    "A little pocket computer," said Rollie, althought he PDA did a lot more than any notebook on the market.
    "Geez, you a computer nerd or something?"
    "Or something," Rollie chuckled.
    Suddenly a loud crackle of static came over the truck driver's old CB radio which was attached to the underside of the dashboard.  "Aw, damn!" said the driver, hitting the face of the radio with the leathery palm of his hand.  "Stupid thing's been broken for a while."
    "I know a little about electronics," said Rollie.  "Do you have any screwdrivers here?"
    "Yeah, in the glove compartment."  Rollie reached in and pulled out a set of small screwdrivers, and proceeded to remove the radio from the underside of the dashboard.
    "It's probably one of the connections that is damaged," he said, removing the top cover on it.  "Yeah, that's it.  Let's see ... "

    It was about six thirty in the morning when a figure appeared in the doorway to the motel.  He yanked it open, and the door screeched on its rusted hinges.  Striding up to the reception desk, he rang the bell on it twice.  The manager, who was asleep in the back room, stumbled toward him.  "Sorry," he said, yawning.  "We're all booked."
    "I don't want a room," said the figure.  Then he pulled a gun, equipped with a silencer, out of his pocket.  He stared at the manager emotionless as he shot him, then moved behind the desk.  He searched through the drawers, finding the manager's copies of all of the room keys.  Pocketing them, he flipped through the register, found what he wanted, then moved quickly out of the office.

    He reached the door to room six, and opened it quietly.  Opening it, he entered the room.  The curtains were drawn, blocking the early morning sunlight.  Sprawled across the two beds were Elena, Angie, and Karen.

    "Rollie?"
    The man turned, and Angie saw it was him.  "Oh god, Rollie," she said, rushing up to him.  He hugged her fiercely.  Angie started to cry.  "Rollie, I thought -- I thought you were dead."
    "I was," he laughed.  "But now we can go on that cruise ... "
    Angie smiled, and leaned up, kissing him.
    A muffled gunshot sounded above her, and Angie's dream of Rollie shattered.  She opened her eyes and found herself staring at Loubar.  She screamed.

*   *   *

 
Part Ten
.

    The truck driver stopped outside a truck stop.  "Well, here we are," he said to Rollie, his passenger.  "Where is it you're going now, from here?"
    Rollie was just sliding the driver's CB radio back into its slot, having fixed the problem.  "Sleepy Owl Inn, on Teardrop Ave.," he said.
    "Oh, the Sleepy Owl!" said the truck driver.
    "You know it?" asked Rollie, surprised.
    "Yeah, a friend of my brother's owns it.  Nice place.  I can drop you off there."
    "That would be great!" said Rollie.
    "Hey, you fixed my radio -- I owe you," said the driver, smiling.  "Let me just grab some breakky then we'll head over."  He and Rollie entered the truck stop.
    The restaurant was dirty, yet a wonderful aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the air.  Rollie and the driver sat on stools by the bar, and the waitress handed them menus, then she moved and switched on an old television bolted to the ceiling.
    "Good morning, Ottawa," said the news anchor's voice.  "Our top morning news story, an explosion in a hangar at the international airport occurred early this morning.  Fire crews and police responded quickly.  Inside, investigators discovered that a 747 exploded in the hangar.  Strangely, those inside the hangar fled from the scene in an airport shuttlebus."  The camera showed the bus evading police using a dead end road.  Rollie winced, then gasped.  Elena was in the driver's seat!
    "Sir?"
    The waitress hung over him, pad in hand.  "Sir, what would you like?"
    Rollie looked at the menu.  "Uh, I'd, uh, like combo three, please.  With coffee."
    "Thank you sir," said the waitress quickly, shuffling away.

    Angie stared down the barrel of a gun.  Loubar laughed.  "Hello again, my sweet," he said, evilly.
    Elena had jumped awake at Angie's scream.  "Wha -- ?" she began, then she saw Loubar.
    He swung his gun around quickly, pointing it at her.  "Don't try anything, Elena dear."
    Karen had also awakened, and gasped.  "Loubar!!" she screamed.
    "Shut up!" he exclaimed.  "Nobody move.  I've got you now."
    "How did you find us?" said Elena carefully.
    Loubar swung the gun around, pointing it at her as he spoke.  "I was just arriving as the hangar exploded.  I followed you till you got here, then I waited for all the activity to die down.  And here I am."
    "You son of a bitch," said Elena, sneering.  "You're one against over thirty of us.  You'll never win."
    "Oh, my dear, but that's where you're wrong."  Loubar smiled.  "Come on in here, boys."  Inside swaggered three of the suits, guns in hand.  "As you can see," said Loubar, "we're completely under control."
    Angie looked from Loubar, to Karen, to Elena, then back to Loubar again.  "So what are you going to do with us?"
    "Simple," said Loubar.  "Bring you someplace secluded, and kill you."  He said it easily, as if it wasn't as horrid as it was.
    The three of them turned grey.  Loubar grinned.  "So, shall we get going, ladies?"  He grabbed Elena roughly by the shoulder, pulling her to her feet.  "Huh?"  He shoved her in front of him, and he motioned for the other suits to take Angie and Karen.  "Come on."

    The airbrakes hissed as the truck stopped outside of the Sleepy Owl.  "Here we are," said the driver.  "Say hi to Ross for me, okay?"
    "Sure," said Rollie, although he wasn't sure if he had time to pass on the greetings.  He knew he'd been told to meet at noon, but he really wanted to make sure Angie was safe.  "Thanks for the ride, mate," he said.
    "Ah, no prob," said the Canadian.  "Take care, ya hear?"  Rollie climbed down from the cab, and as he shut the passenger door, the driver pulled away.  Rollie waved as the truck sped off, and then he crossed the road to the hotel.
    The Sleepy Owl looked extraordinarily sleepy.  The only movement was a neon sign of a winking owl, with the hotel's name underneath.  He crossed the parking lot to reception.  The only cars in the lot were three rental minivans, and a large pickup truck parked in the shade of a sagging pine tree.
    Rollie reached the door to reception.  A gust of wind blew the metal door open, twisting its hinges.  Rollie stepped through it, and into the darkened reception.  "Hello!" he said, glancing around the small room.  Nobody was in there.  "Hello?" called Rollie again, but there was still no answer.
    Rollie moved to the desk.  Beside a display of tourist brochures sat the registery book.  Rollie spun it around to look at it.  All eight rooms were booked by a Neela Tours.  Rollie chuckled, unscrambling the name in his head.  That's Elena for you, he thought.  Below the outfit's name was a list of the occupants of each room.  Rollie scanned the list, hoping there was some clue as to what room Angie was in.  He grinned, finding Lucinda Scott to be in room six.  He slammed the book closed, and was about to leave reception when he noticed the dark carpet to be wet.
    Frowning, Rollie bent down, touching the wet spot, which appeared to originate under the desk.  Stepping around the desk, he realized why the manager hadn't shown up.
    He laid in a pool of his own blood, shot in the head.  Rollie gingerly reached out, putting two fingers to the old man's neck.  He was dead.
    Suddenly, the realization of what was happening hit him.  He lept to his feet, swearing.  He ran from the reception office and across the path.  Reaching a second building, with a doorway labeled "Rooms", he was about to enter the hall when he heard an unmistakable voice.
    Loubar!
    Rollie flattened himself against the wall, then cautiously glanced inside and down the hall.  Three of the eight room doors were open.  Then Rollie saw Loubar. "So, shall we get going, ladies?" said Loubar.  He exited the room, pulling Elena with him.  Then came Angie and Karen, prodded forward by three men wearing dark suits.  As they drew closer, Rollie glanced around nervously, looking for someplace to hide.  Then he spotted an old Coke machine just down the path.  He ran, and disappeared around the corner of it just as Loubar emerged from the building.
    Loubar crossed the parking lot and reached one of the three minvans.  "Open it," he ordered Elena, who reluctantly fished the key out of her pocket.  Twisting it in the lock, she opened the side door.  Loubar motioned for Karen, Elena, and Angie to get in.  Then he slammed the door shut in their faces.  "Stay here," ordered Loubar.  "Watch them.  You two, we'll go get the rest."
    "God, Angie," whispered Rollie.  He knew they were going to take them somewhere, and that he had to follow.  Then he noticed Loubar opening the door of the truck parked in the shade, retrieving something.  As Loubar walked back into the building, Rollie ducked down and ran across the parking lot to behind the truck.  He climbed over the back, and hid under a tarp in the back.
    He peered out from under the tarp as Loubar and his men loaded the rest of Elena's people into the vans.  Then he jogged to the pickup, and climbed into the cab.  He started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.
    A half hour later, Loubar slowed the truck, pulling off the road and down a long, dirt driveway.  It appeared to lead to an old barn and farmhouse surrounded by farmland.  The other structure, an old grain silo, cast a long shadow on the land.
    Loubar stopped in front of the barn, and got out of the truck.  The vans came to a stop behind it.  Rollie watched as the side doors were pulled open, and Elena, Karen, Angie, and all of the other members of the Operation were pushed out.  The suits jumped out behind them, guns drawn.
    Loubar spread his arms.  "Welcome!" he said, gesturing around him.  "Do you like it?"
    Elena pushed forward, angry.  "Why did you bring us here?!" she growled.  "If you're going to kill us, get it over with!!"
    Loubar smiled.  "No, not yet my dear."  He moved toward her.  "First, you must see my plan in action."
    "What?!" said Elena.
    "You see," continued Loubar, calmly, "I've been working on quite a fun operation for some very important people, and it might be interesting to you."
    Elena crossed her arms.  "How?"
    "You see, I want to show you the destruction of the U.S. government, and the creation of war with Japan.  And I'll be safe up here, in Canada.  You see, Canada will not take a side in the war.  It'll just watch."  He grinned.  "And you're going to get to see the first part of it.  Then ... " he grinned.  "See ya'!"
    "Just how are you going to do this?"
    "Well, I'm off in a couple of days to Washington, where the Japanese ambassador is visiting.  After a public assassination, I'll leave enough clues to point to a direct government involvement."
    "They'll deny it," said Elena.  "The U.S. government will deny the whole thing."
    "Oh, but that's just the start," said Loubar, smiling.  "Coupla bombings here and there, little backroom trouble, and we'll have quite the dilemma on our hands!"
    "And what'll it accomplish?" said Elena, her hands on her hips.  She advanced toward Loubar.  "What good is that?"
    "My clients have their reasons," said Loubar.  Then he shrugged.  "I do as I'm told, I get paid enough to retire very comfortably for the rest of my life here in Canada.  It works!"
    "And what'll happen in the war?" said Elena.  "Millions of people homeless ... killed ... billions of dollars of damage ... how dare you ... "
    Loubar held up a finger.  "Shut up," he said, slowly.  "I could kill you now."
    Elena's eyes shifted, and a look of curiousity and then excitement crossed her face.  She stepped away from the group, then spun and ran toward the silo, around a large propane tank.
    "Stop!" yelled Loubar.  Yet Elena kept running.  "Come on!" he exclaimed, motioning for three of the suits to follow him.  They ran after Elena.  Loubar pulled a gun, nearing the propane tanks which she had disappeared around.  "Kill her," said Loubar as they rounded the corner.  He saw Elena, running toward the farmhouse, out in the open.  He grabbed one of the suits guns, stopping.  She had no place to hide -- and she was going to die.
    Elena smiled as Loubar squeezed the trigger ...

*   *   *

 
Part Eleven

    Elena gritted her teeth as Loubar raised his gun, pointing it at her.  She had one final thought: C'mon Tyler.
   Loubar grinned, and squeezed the trigger as ...
       BOOM!!!
   The explosion blew her off her feet, and she flew backwards, against the side of the farmhouse.  Her head hit it, and reality blurred ...
    Angie gasped as ground suddenly seemed to rise up under her.  She fell down, along with the others, in the grass.  Sand and soil rained down, and she held an arm up to her eyes to shield them from it.
    One of Loubar's men had landed beside her.  He had grazed his head on a rock, and he was unconscious, as was another suit beside him.
    Angie pulled herself to her knees, her body complaining.  She turned to look at what had happened.  The propane tank had exploded, and Loubar and three of his men were probably dead.  But how had it happened ... ?  She stood, and shielding her eyes from the tower of fire which was all that was left of the tank, she moved closer.
    She could see Loubar through the smoke.  He was laying facedown on the ground, motionless.  Burns covered his face and the rest of his body.  She stepped closer, and gingerly placed two fingers on the side of his neck.  There was no pulse -- no, wait ... there it was.  She checked the other suits -- Loubar had been the only one to survive the blast.
    Angie stood, and moved back to the group.  Karen had retrieved some duct tape from one of the van's emergency kits, and they were using it to tie up the suits.
    Suddenly Angie felt someone grip her hand strongly.  She yelped, thinking it was Loubar.  But when she turned around, she found herself staring into the deep brown eyes of Rollie Tyler.
    "Oh my god, Roll," she said.  His face was dirty, and he had a cut on his neck.  But he grinned back at her.  She embraced him for a long moment.  "I thought you were dead," Angie said, finally.
    "Takes a lot to take me down, love," he said.  And then, without warning, he kissed her.  Angie closed her eyes, and she suddenly felt relieved -- but even more than that, she felt tired.  She drew back from the kiss, and suddenly collapsed, as all of the emotions that she had had welled up that morning finally surfaced.  Rollie held her tightly, stroking her hair softly.  "That's alright, Ang," he said softly, in her ear, as she cried.  "We're okay now -- it's all over."
    "Oh god, Rollie," she whispered.  "I thought ... I thought I was going to die."
    "I thought we all would, love," said Rollie.  "But it's okay, now.  We're fine -- we're safe.  It's all over."
    Angie looked back over Rollie's shoulder, at the burning wreckage.  The fire was spreading, and the sky overhead was darkening from the smoke.  Then she felt her stomach sink.
    Rollie sensed the change immediately.  "What -- " he began.
    "L-Loubar ... " said Angie.  Rollie turned, and saw ...
    ... Loubar was gone.
    Suddenly it hit Angie.  "Elena!" she yelled, pulling away from Rollie.  She ran toward the house, where Elena had collapsed ...
    .. but she, too, had disappeared.
    Angie spun around, her eyes narrowing as she searched for where Loubar could have taken her.  Suddenly she saw a figure disappearing into the old barn.  Angie ran toward it.  She reached the old barn door, and pulled it open.
    It took Angie's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness as she stepped into the barn.  Suddenly her vision exploded in splotches of bright colours as she felt something strike her head.  Then it went black.

    Rollie grabbed one of the suit's guns, and took off after Angie, who had disappeared into the barn.  He reached the open door, and entered, cautiously.
    The barn was dark, and smelled faintly of soil and manure.  There was an old layer of straw on the hard ground.  Rollie stepped forward.  "Angie?" he called, but there was no response.
    Suddenly he heard Loubar's voice, from above.  "Put the gun down, Tyler," ordered Loubar.
    Rollie looked up, and saw Loubar faintly, standing on one of the wooden walkways above him.  "Put it down," said Loubar again, aiming his gun at Rollie.
    "Where's Angie?" said Rollie.
    "Shut up and put the gun down," ordered Loubar, calmly.
    "Why?"
    "Because, if you can't see, I have my gun trained on your two little friends here."
    Rollie squinted upward.  "You're bluffing," he said, finally.
    "Think so?" said Loubar.  "That's quite a risk, Tyler."
    "All right, all right," said Rollie.  "I'm putting the gun down."  He set it on the ground.
    "Good," said Loubar.  "Now come up here."
    "Now what?" said Rollie.
    "There's a ladder on your right," said Loubar.  "Climb up here."
    Rollie moved toward it slowly, and began to climb.  "Good," said Loubar.  "We're going to play a little game."

    Karen glanced around.  "Where's Angie?" she said to the others.
    "I don't know," said someone.  "And who's that guy with her?"
    "Damned if I know," said Karen.  "They went into the barn, right?"
    "I think so."
    "Then let's go."
    Suddenly she heard a shout.  She looked up, and saw the flames were engulfing the silo, and it was creaking.  "It's going to collapse!!" shouted someone.
   "Run!!" shouted Karen, over the noise of the flames, motioning for everyone to head toward the field.
    "What about you?" called someone.
    "I have to find Angie," said Karen, scooping up one of the guns.  She ran toward the barn.

    Rollie reached a walkway right above the barn entrance.  He looked across at Loubar, who had tied Elena and Angie to one of the barn's support beams, and gagged them.  "Hello again," said Loubar.  "I actually thought you were dead."  He smiled evilly.
    Rollie frowned.  "Give it up, Loubar," he said.  "Everyone's outside.  They're going to come crashing in here, any second.  You're one against too many."
    "Aah, but I have hostages," said Loubar.  "And that's where the game comes in.  You ready?"  He didn't wait for a response.  "I only have one gun .. I don't need two hostages.  All I need is one.  You'll decide which.  The one you decide on will be my hostage.  The other ... will die."
    Rollie saw a look of terror cross Angie's and Elena's faces.  Rollie looked back up at Loubar.  "You know I can't do that," he said.
    "You'll have to," said Loubar.  "Or I shoot them both, and use you as my hostage.  You have twenty seconds to decide who lives ... and who dies."

    "Fifteen seconds," said Loubar, glancing at his watch.  Rollie wouldn't speak.
    Suddenly Karen came running through the door.  "Angie!" she shouted.  "Come on ... !"
    Loubar glanced down at her.  "Oh, hello," he said.  Then, casually, he shot her.
    He turned back to Rollie.  "Ten seconds, Mr. Tyler."
    "Five."
    "Four."
    "Three."
    "Two ... "
    "One."
    Rollie stayed silent.
    "Well, Mr. Rollie Tyler, I think you've made up your mind.  Kill them both."  He trained his gun on the two women.
    "No ... " blurted Rollie, "Please ... "
    "I'm sorry," said Loubar, grinning.  "They have to die."
    Suddenly there was a loud crackling, as if a tree was falling.  Then the roof of the barn collapsed as the side of the silo crashed through.  The walkway Rollie and Loubar were on collapsed, and they tumbled to the floor, as did Elena and Angie.
    Rollie put his hands to his face as flaming debris rained down on him, and he rolled out of the way as a hunk of metal fell to the ground beside him.  He felt a stab of pain in his leg as he moved, and he screamed as a burning wooden beam trapped it.
    Angie screamed through the gag as she fell to the ground with Elena.  They landed, and suddenly she felt her hands free from the beam as it began to burn.  She fumbled with the ropes, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.  "Elena," she shouted, over the noise of the flames.
    "I'm okay," came the answer.  "I'm free.  You?"
    "Yeah.  Where's Rollie?"  Then she spotted him, his leg trapped beneath a burning wooden beam.  She crawled through the burning debris to him.  "Rollie!" she yelled.
   "A-Anggiee ... !!" screamed Rollie, writhing in agony.
    Elena appeared beside Angie.  "Help me lift the beam!" she yelled to Angie, and they dug their hands under it, ignoring the searing hit on their arms.  "On the count of three!" shouted Elena. "One, two, three!"  They groaned, eyes squeezed shut as they used every ounce of strength they had to lift the beam.
    Rollie felt the weight on his leg lessen, and he pulled as hard as he could.  Finally his leg freed, and Angie and Elena dropped the beam back down, pulling Rollie back away from the flames.
    Angie searched for an exit from the burning barn.  The heat was unbearable, and her skin felt scorched.  Then she saw it, a break in the flames near the entrance.  "Come on!!" she shouted to Elena.  Rollie had managed to stand, with Elena's help, but the pain was still agonizing.  Together, Angie and Elena ran through the flames, supporting Rollie.
    Outside, the others were waiting.  "Oh my god," said a man.  "Are you guys okay?"
    "We're fine," said Elena, although it was a complete lie.  She felt burnt to a crisp, and her chest hurt like hell.  She had a feeling she might have fractured something.  She and Angie laid Rollie on the ground.  Angie knelt beside him.  "Rollie -- " she said, stroking his hair.  "Rollie ... "
    His eyes were filled with tears.  "My ... my leg," he said, "I think ... I think it's broken."
    "I'm not surprised," said a woman, hurrying up.  "Help is coming, I used the phone in the house."
    "Where's Karen?" said another person, who had come to help Elena, Angie, and Rollie.
    Angie winced in pain and at the memory of her friend being shot.  "Loubar ... he shot her."
    There was silence, broken by the sound of a siren from down the road.

    Rollie opened his eyes, and found himself staring up at Mira.  "Where ... Mira ... how'd you g-get here," he said.
    Mira smiled.  "I came as soon as I heard.  You're in hospital.  You're lucky you survived.  The fire department's still dealing with the blaze.  What the hell happened, Rollie?"
    "It's a long story," said Rollie.  "Tell me ... have they found any bodies in the barn?"
    "Only one," said Mira, softly.  "A woman ... she died from a gunshot wound, which was lucky, 'cause she was burnt to a crisp."
    Rollie felt a wave of sadness, and a sudden feeling of intense rage. "That fucker ... " he began.
    "What?" said Mira.  Rollie rarely used swears.
    "Loubar ... the damn jerk got away ... "
    "This has to do with Loubar?" said Mira incredulously.
    "Yeah.  How's Angie?"
    Mira sagged, remembering her death.  "Angie's dead," she said, softly.  "Remember?"
    "No, no no.  She's not dead.  She's gotta be here in this hospital, too."
    "How could she be alive still ... what ... "  Mira didn't know what Rollie meant.
    "She's still alive," said Rollie.  She was in the blast, too."
    Mira stuttered.  "I -- I ... "
    Rollie sighed and pursed his lips, then winced in pain as his burnt skin pulled.  "Let me start from the beginning.   Angie never died.  She joined with Elena and others, to catch Loubar ... "

    Rollie wheeled over to Angie's bedside.  She was in worse condition then he had been.  His leg was in a cast, having been fractured in three places.  He had bandages all over his body, and he had jokingly told Mira he felt like a burnt roast.  But he smiled when he saw Angie, asleep.  "Angie," he said, softly.  "Angie, it's Rollie."
    Angie was asleep, and Rollie had been told not to wake her.  But he'd inisted he see her.  "Angie ... I thought you were dead.  I knew you were dead.  And then ... and then you have no idea how joyous I felt when I discovered it was all fake ... that you were alive.  You have ... you have no idea.  I'd ... I'd been thinking about us.  And, I realized ... that I love you.  I love you with my whole heart.  I guess I always have, but never really realized it.  But now ... "  He swallowed.  "Angie ... I really ... please pull through, 'cause I could never go on without you."  He felt an intense deja vu, and realized he'd done this before, when Angie had been caught in Delacruz's car bomb.  But now was different.  "Angie ... I love you ... "