Disclaimer: FX: The Series does not belong to me, and I'm in no way profiting financially from this story. The screenplay for Red Storm was written by Mary Crawford and Alan Templeton, and the episode was directed by J. Miles Dale. I have adapted the story to written form hopefully remaining true to both the writer and director’s original creative intentions. It is written purely for my own entertainment and for the entertainment of others. FX is a Fireworks Entertainment Inc. and Winterset Productions Inc. production also produced in association with Rysher Entertainment and Hallmark Entertainment. The show is also based on the movie FX, an Orion Picture Corporation movie.

CHAPTER 3

Angie sat on the stairs of the loft as Mira finished off the search for clues with some uniformed police officers. She tried not to think about what had happened in the previous 24 hours, tried not to fold under the stress of not knowing where Rollie was, or even how long he’d been missing. She’d done what she could so far, having searched the loft physically for bugs, also gone over the computer system with a fine tooth comb, and she was confident that Loubar had left no nasty surprises for them. Now it was time to sit and wait, and it was became harder not to think about the things she didn’t want to think about. Her attention was drawn back to the room as she heard Mira’s farewell to the other officers, “Thanks, it was a long shot anyways.”

“Yeah, we tried,” was the response as the front door of the loft closed.

Angie remarked, “Didn’t think you were going to find anything,” having finished most of her own check before the uniformed officers had arrived. She touched an icepack to her bruised lip again. Mira sat down beside her, and checked the injury as well.

“Let’s see?”

The wall in the phone box at the back of the loft opened catching their attention. Rollie entered, moving quickly to his friends, “Angie.”

Mira responded first, “What happened to you?”

“I wish I know,” Rollie replied before turning his attention to Angie concerned after Loubar’s final videoed comment to him. He noticed the bruises on her face, “Did Loubar do that?”

Angie glance up at the question and then evaded his eye contact, not trusting Rollie to actually be Rollie. “Yeah” she responded more uncomfortable in his presence that she had ever been before in her life.

“You OK?” asked Rollie, reaching out to her. Angie pushed his hand away and evaded his touch before hugging her knees to close herself off from him. She murmured a response that she was all right; her body language shouted out that this was a lie. Angie chanced another look at his face, still uncertain.

Rollie took another look at Angie, not noticing the full extent of her body language and muttered “Bastard” before turning to look around his home. “So he was here was he? What did he do?” He rounded back to his assistant, “Have you swept the place for bugs? Have you checked the computer?”

“I checked everything”, responded Angie, hurt that he even had to ask and angry with herself for the way she was reacting to him, and what she had done last night.

Mira watched Angie throughout their exchange troubled at how she was responding to Rollie, and how utterly wretched she seemed. A change of subject was needed, “So, what about you?”

Rollie took the bait, “According to Loubar I’ve been lying in a basement in Chinatown for 3 days.” He took the watch off that Loubar had put on his wrist, “but this says different. It’s been active.” Angie took the watch and escaped to the security of her computer workstation and plugged it in.

“What is it?” asked Mira.

Rollie replied, “It’s a GPS watch. Keeps track of where I’ve been, or supposedly been. He expects me to follow it.” He and Mira followed Angie to the workstation. Rollie ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He was mentally and physically exhausted even though he’d been unconscious for 3 days and he knew this was going to be a bad day.

It didn’t take Angie more than a moment to download the data on the watch. “Ok, we have 3 locations, all with a hundred yard radius each.

Rollie grabbed a notepad and pen, “300 block Lombard, 1100 block Walnut, 2400 block Bayview. Good enough.” He ripped the page off the pad and turned to the two women, “Let’s go.”

Neither Angie nor Mira moved as Rollie began to head for the door. Mira objected to the idea, “Wait a minute.” Angie turned to her as she continued, “Loubar wants you to follow it.”

“At this stage we have no choice, it’s his game,” responded the Aussie as he turned back to Mira. He didn’t like not doing anything.

Angie flicked around to glare at him, “It’s not a game Rollie” she commented flatly before turning back to her computer.

Rollie had the decency to look mildly chastened, knowing at least that Loubar had hit Angie. “No, you’re... It’s not,” he finished concisely agreeing with his bruised friend. He looked back at her, “Are you coming Ange?”

“No,” she replied barely looking up. “I’m gonna double check the computer. I might have missed something.” Mira started to follow Rollie leaving before turning back to Angie for reassurance that she would be all right. “Go ahead, I’ll be Ok.”

The other two left, leaving Angie by herself. She watched the door close before sighing and running a hand through her hair. She was torn, not wanting to be on her own, but equally if not more uncomfortable in Rollie’s presence. She turned to their mechanical minion, “Blue, activate security please.” The young woman finished the request with a smile to her electronic pet vainly attempting to reassure them both that they were both Ok despite Loubar’s attempts to the contrary.

Angie began reviewing the security footage from the night before. She watched intently, looking for possible clues as the taped recording began with her entering the loft, instructing Blue to turn on the lights. She saw Loubar as Rollie bounding in behind her and stating that he’d given him the night off before her own puzzled but agreeable response. She realised she should have known something was strange at that point but pushed the non-productive thought aside concentrating on the screen in search of potential clues.

The conference room was large, with a long head table and a wide space ready for more chairs to be set up over the course of the afternoon. It was buzzing with people at it was being set up. The Organisers were arranging the table and seating plans, and getting various pieces of equipment set up. Security was obviously a big concern with a large group of police officers standing to the side of the room. Captain van Duran of the Midtown South Precinct was organising the security, he turned to his officers in turn “Team 1 is covering the east end security entrance. Now, the convoy’s arriving just before 7. So, I want a complete sweep of this room at 6:30.

The officers responded that they understood with an informal “Got it.”

Marvin van Duran looked at the walkie-talkie in his hand for a moment, noting the frequency it was set to, “Communications go to TAC 1.” He looked up at the officers expecting them to be moving already, “Go!”

Just as the officers dispersed, a man approached the conference centre. He was wearing a beige overcoat and a suit. His brown hair and moustache had a slightly moth eaten look and he wore large glasses with a dark rose coloured tint. He carried a briefcase as he approached the security checkpoint.

The security officer at the entrance to the conference centre was focussed on the line forming in front of him. “ID please,” he asked the first man in line. “Ok, thank you” as he let the man pass through. The man in the beige overcoat was next, “ID sir?” Loubar showed some ID, “Ok, great” responded the officer. The ID didn’t have Loubar’s own name on it, but the officer didn’t know him so he passed with no problems. His disguise was less than convincing, but was bland and un-noteworthy so for that same reason he went through the security check barely receiving a glance from the guard.

The sweep of the conference room continued, both sniffer dogs and electronic sensing devices being used to give the head table an extremely careful going over. The table was hung with red fabric and both the Chinese and American flags stood proudly behind it. Loubar stopped in the doorway of the room beside the police officer guarding it. He turned to the guard and asked with a nasal accent “Is this where the Chinese are signing the Telecom deal?”

The cop looked up from his magazine, somewhat bored but answered good-naturedly “So I hear.”

“My company’s got a piece of it,” responded Loubar with the same nasal accent. The guard assumed from that, that the awkward looking man in the beige overcoat was probably a bit nosy but generally harmless and so he went back to reading his magazine. He didn’t notice a small compartment open on the front of the man’s briefcase. Nor did he notice a small red light shine on the chair the trade minister would sit in later because he wasn’t wearing glasses capable of rendering infrared light visible to the human eye. He also didn’t notice the man glance at him before pressing a small button on the top of his briefcase, thereby shooting a small dart into the soft padding in the back of the same chair across the room. In fact he was so engrossed in his magazine that he barely noticed when the man in the beige overcoat left again.

Rollie and Mira drove through the New York streets to the first stop on their list. Rollie was driving, with Mira standing up the front of the van. She was cynical about their chances of success, “you can pack a lot of real estate into a city block. And we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

Rollie looked around as he passed through an intersection. He recognised the area, “I know a guy who lives around here. Jorge Sevedra, runs a specialty electronics business.” He stopped the van at a corner and looked across the intersection to a store that was swarming with police cars, “That’s his place!” He and Mira worriedly glanced at each other.

Rollie and Mira entered the electronics store, and walked down a corridor to the back of the store. Detective Tony Rizzo was there discussing the case with a uniformed officer. As Mira greeted him “Hey Tony, what’s going on?” he spotted Rollie, his expression soured and strode across the room to them.

Rollie smiled in greeting, “Hey Tony,” a little puzzled at the scowl he received in return. Tony grabbed him by the sleeve and pushed him face first towards the wall, “Hey, what?” He then proceeded to cuff Rollie, “Hey! Get off!”

Mira piped up as well, confused and angry, “Hey man, ease off!”

“Guess you don’t know what buddy here’s been up to,” Tony remarked in response, not the least bit apologetic. Rollie rolled his eyes, and blew out a breath not resisting. He figured once they had a chance to explain about Loubar the cuffs would come off and failing that he could break out of them in less that 10 seconds anyway.

Victor Loubar headed over to the reception desk at the conference centre and got the attention of the clerk behind the counter. “Hello. Do you have an envelope for a Harold Binks?” he asked in the same nasal accent he’d used earlier.

“I’ll check,” responded the clerk, turning to a mail slot beside him and leafing through the letters there.

While the clerk was checking, Loubar looked around the foyer, he gave the appearance of boredom while he waited but was actively checking that no one was watching him. The clerk turned back to him, “Ahhh. Yes, sir.”

Loubar received the envelope and handed back one of his own, “And can you hold this for a Mr Hong Lee?”

“Absolutely” replied the clerk noting the name in his book.

“Thank you” responded Loubar and he picked up his briefcase and left, relieved he’d completed the whole exchange without attracting anyone’s notice.

Rollie and Mira watched the security tape at the electronics store with Tony. Rollie watched as a man who looked exactly like him, and sounded exactly like him talk with Jorge.

Jorge began the conversation, “The tracker frequency is 5.32MHz Rollie. It has a range of 2000 yards.”

The screen Rollie replied “Thanks Jorge” and pulled a gun from the back of his pants. He looked around to see if there would be any witnesses and then as the man’s back was turned he shot him in the head.

Rollie’s stomach turned over as he saw someone who knew killed in such a cold blooded way without so much as a warning. Mira gasped, extremely shocked as well. This, not being the first time Tony had viewed the footage turned to the two perplexed, “So you’re telling me this is some guy named Victor Loubar. What, you guys were separated at birth!?!”

Without taking her eyes off the compelling screen, Mira replied, “He can become anyone. It’s what he does.”

The weather was overcast at a memorial park in New York City, the Chinese trade minister, his entourage and his American compatriots laid a floral wreath on a war memorial. Unfortunately it was difficult for them to concentrate in paying their respects as a large crowd had formed. They were chanting “Free Zhang Chow! Free Zhang Chow!” and carrying banners proclaiming the same thing and similar sentiments written in both English and Chinese.

Victor Loubar sat in a nondescript car a short distance away watching the ceremony. He was still wearing his mousy moustache disguise. He dialled a number on his cell phone and waited for an answer.

A young Chinese man in glasses and a suit stood on the edge of the trade minister’s entourage. He looked nauseous at the combined patriotism. His cell phone rang and he answered it, “Hong Lee speaking.”

“The barabonds are fine.”

“Then everything is go,” asked Hong Lee.

Loubar replied, “I left you a little gift in return. When he is comfortably seated, turn it on.”

“I understand. And you have someone to accept responsibility?” asked Hong Lee, checking that all the details of his contractual needs were being covered.

“Yes,” was the monosyllabic reply.

Rollie looked down at Jorge’s body, and began putting the dots together, “I know Loubar. He’s got a bigger plan. He’s setting me up.” He looked up at Tony defiantly, totally convinced of his conclusion.

Tony wasn’t happy about letting Rollie go, but despite his misgivings decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all he’d seen some of the work Rollie’d done in the past for the department, risking his own life for no real reward. “I’m out on a limb here Mira. When you’re done here take the back way out.” He turned and left them to it, not quite believing his ability to toss the rulebook out the window.

“Thanks Tony,” responded Mira to the departing form.

Angie was still watching the security video. She had reached the part from that morning where she had discovered ‘Rollie’ watching the video of their time in bed. As she watched, the on screen Rollie headed for the door, chased by herself and then turning hitting her, and revealing that he was in fact Loubar.

Tears flowed down Angie’s face as she relived those moments that changed her life, her insides twisting. She couldn’t hold her emotions in check anymore, the pain, humiliation, fear and anger all burned so deeply inside her and bubbled to the surface. She held her hands over her mouth as Loubar revealed himself, cried and then dropping her head banging her forehead with her hands, berating herself for being so blind and gullible, attempting to exchange some of the emotional pain for physical pain. It didn’t help.

As Angie turned her attention back to the screen she managed to bring her emotions back in check. And as she angrily pushed the tears aside, she suddenly realised that Loubar had taken Rollie’s keys when he left. She looked over to the pedestal by the door confirming that they were gone. Totally refocused on the task at hand, the young woman rewound the tape to just before Loubar took the keys and began enhancing the image, tightening the focus around the keys themselves, she knew she was on to something.

Rollie and Mira were driving to the second destination in the van again. This time Mira was driving, and was taking them into a far less desirable part of the city. The houses were falling apart, with paint peeling and windows cracked or shot out, and the footpath was covered in trash. “Crack, smack, prostitutes. One stop shopping” she dryly remarked as she parked and shut off the engine.

Rollie’s phone took that opportunity to ring as he was looking around at the destitution. He pulled it out of his pocket and answering it, “Tyler.”

Angie was on the other end and wasted no time with pleasantries, still focussed on the enhanced image on her computer screen. “How many keys do you have on your keychain?”

Rollie reached over and pulled the keys from the van ignition. He counted them, “5” he replied.

“No Medico key?” Angie asked, still wasting no time.

Rollie replied, “No.” He thought her abrupt manner was a little odd and was concerned, “Angie, you Ok?”

The question broke Angie out of her single-track focus for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll get back to you,” she answered before hanging up on Rollie and continued with her work on the computer.

Rollie closed up his cell phone, pondering the exchange and he began to realise that whatever happened between Loubar and Angie was affecting her more than she had led him to believe when he saw her at the loft. He frowned at the thought.

Mira watched the exchange and as she did know what had happened between Loubar and Angie she was worried for Angie but knew she couldn’t say much without blowing the young woman’s secret. After a moment’s thought she asked Rollie, “She all right?”

“She says she is,” he replied, voicing the concern that had begun to tickle the corners of his mind. He moved on, realising there was not a lot he could do about it at that moment. “Let’s take a walk, see what turns up?” Both he and Mira climbed out of the van and began walking down the street.

Back in the loft Angie continued working on enhancing the image of the keys. She zoomed in further and further refining the focus each time until she could read the engraving on the Medico key. It read ‘Aegis Locksmith AA12’. She turned to the electronic dog beside her, “Blue, internet search; Aegis locksmith, New York.” Blue barked in response as the web browser opened on the computer screen. “Look for key code AA12,” she continued. The computer brought up the Medico key client data file for Aegis Locksmiths and selected AA12. It came up with a rental address of ‘57 Keyswater,’ over a ‘6 month’ rental period under the tenant name of ‘Blaine, Rick’. Angie stared at the screen intently, an expression of grim satisfaction on her face, “I got you Loubar.” She then turned to leave, grabbing her jacket.

The Galen Conference Centre stood in the middle of a forest of buildings on Manhattan Island. On one side stood a multi-storey hotel. And it was in that hotel that a man who looked and sounded exactly like Rollie Tyler checked in. A porter took him to a room on one of the upper floors.

The porter opened the door, gesturing inside and pointed out some of the features of the room, “Minibar, Lights, TV.” He turned the television on and then went back to the trolley to unload the multitude of cases.

The Rollie look-alike commented to the porter in a perfect Australian accent, “Careful with those cases. Got samples in there,” as he placed a matt metallic look briefcase on the television cabinet and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“No problem sir” replied the porter as he unloaded the cases.

The television had a news item airing. The reporter read from her notes, “The mayor expressed optimism that crime rates will continue to fall. Trade minister Heng Sheu has been bothered by protestors during his New York visit, this despite his statement at the UN yesterday that China must rethink it’s stance on human rights if it is to take it’s rightful place on the world stage. Beijing has yet to respond to Sheu’s remarkable comments but the President has welcomed his speech as a turning point in Chinese/American relations.” As he watched the Rollie look-alike removed several notes from his wallet and re-pocketed it, he smiled at the news report. The porter finished unloading and waited patiently for his tip.

The porter was handed the money at the end of the news article, “There you go,” commented his benefactor.

It was a generous tip and the porter smiled happily, replying, “Thank you Mr Blaine.” He made a point of remember the guest’s face so he could be of assistance in the future and hopefully securing more generous tips. He departed quickly, closing the door behind him.

Mr Blaine’, walked towards the bathroom, clicking a small remote in his left hand. By the time he could see himself in the bathroom mirror he saw a cloudy mask covering his face. He pulled the wig from his head and the mask from his face.