Rating:  I dunno, PG-13

I love comments:  jbl22@drexel.edu

    New York City surged with energy.  The oncoming spring brought life and warmth.  It brought a new spirit and a high stock market.  The economy was excellent and the world was basking in the Pax Americana.  And all this was hinted to in the air and the mood of the city.  The aura of the greatest metropolis in the world was one of growth, progress and unimpeded unity.  All of this was to be tested by a single man.

    Rollie Tyler yawned and smiled like a cheshire cat.  He could feel the planet warming around him and was happy to have the frigid temperatures and cold winds behind him until next winter.  He also smiled because his life had returned to some semblance of normalcy.  And yet it was greater than ever before, because he and Angie were...

    'Well, not yet at least,' he thought with a grin.  The master of special effects and warrior of virtue dressed casually and eagerly awaited her arrival.  Angie and Rollie had patched together whatever problems had seemed so indomitable months before.  With the help of Dr. Greer and a number of very, very personal conversations, they were closer than ever.  Not since Manny's death had they spoken so openly and honestly with each other.

    Looking around the loft, he saw evidence of the two movies they had worked on through the beginning of '98.  A sci-fi thriller about time travel and a slap stick comedy starring an SNL alum.  It was no surprise to Rollie that the comedy was far more difficult, and challenging as well.  It had been good to just work.  He and Angie offered no assistance to the NYPD, and none was requested.  Through it all, it seemed the crime rate was dropping anyway.

    'Guess I'm not as indispensable as I thought,' he mused.  Where was Angie?  He wanted to get some breakfast, than see a show.  If it was okay by her.  He had decided that being with her made anything great.

    Angie yawned and stretched.  Rollie was the first thought through her mind when she had woken.  As it should be, she told herself.  For months now, it seemed as though they had really grown closer.  After hurrying through her morning routine, she jogged and showered.  Hoping to meet Rollie at the loft, she decided to bring a surprise.

    Before leaving, Angie carefully checked her hair and the imperceptible layer of make-up across her face.  It wasn't like she preening herself for Rollie, she told herself, 'I've always tried to look my best.'  With that thought, she changed clothes again and headed off to the Schleigman's Bakery for the best bagels in the world.

    Rollie tried his best to look busy, he didn't want Angie to waltz in and find him idly wringing his hands.  He had always been a bit protective, as was is right and responsibility.  'One I've been negligent of, one time too many,' his thoughts whispered.  Shaking that off, he acknowledged he was getting worse.  Now, he wasn't just concerned for her welfare, he held certain interests.  Interests that didn't coincide well with other men hitting on his Angie.

    Stopping himself, Rollie took a breath.  She's her own person, an independent being capable of making responsible, informed decisions on her own.  Knowing Angie, he would have to be very careful not to push his luck.  So he diddled with the computer and made some tea.  Finally, shutting Blue down and upgrading his vocalization circuits.  He'd meant to so many times before.

    Angie was running late and she knew Rol would be pacing about.  'Good.' she thought.  He would have to learn patience.  She thanked the man for the bagels and paid.  It would be another ten minutes in morning traffic before she could reach the loft.  The thought of calling ahead flashed through her mind, but she elected to just press on.

    Detective Palmira Sanchez was strolling quietly through Battery Park.  She whistled softly and was watching with interest as joggers and citizens moved past.  Her eyes, however, lit up when a man in an expensive suit appeared before her.  In his hands was a metal briefcase, Mira knew what was inside it as well.

    The toon Mira kept quickened, and she tensed when a taller man, also nicely dressed, moved past her to rendezvous.  He also held a briefcase, identical to the first man's.  When the men neared, she quickened her pace.  As their hands deftly switched briefcases she let loose a note that would have eight cabs lined up around the corner.

    The two men jumped, spinning around to find plain clothes officers and uniforms converging on their position.  The tall man acquiesced and even smiled politely as he was handcuffed.  But the first man bolted, which was a mistake.  He ran right into a very amused Sgt. Chord Wheeler.  The bust was a success and both men, industrial spies, were captured without incident.

    "I think Lucent 'll be very happy about this," Francis Gatti called out.  Mira turned to see him stand from his hiding place, a newspaper on a park bench.

    "No applause yet, these guys maybe corporate raiders, but we still need the inside men," Mira and Frank were already moving back to their car.

    "Uh, Detective Gatti... Detective!"  Chord Wheeler was running to catch up.

    "Yeah Chord, what's up?"  Frank signaled for Mira to head on to the precinct.

    "Well, I was wondering if you might help me study, for the Lieutenants exam.  It's coming up quick and..." Chord trailed off.

    Frank turned to look where Chord was staring.  He didn't see anything, the guy was just looking into the city.  Seconds later, he would know.  It would be horrifyingly clear.  Frank Gatti, Mira Sanchez, Rollie and Angie, all of them would feel the sting.  They would feel the first blow of what would become a gauntlet they might not survive.  And the world would hold its breath.

Chapter 1

    The traffic was slow but it didn't really bother Bozwell Foreman.  He would make the meeting with plenty of time.  And then, then his company would merge and he could float away on a golden parachute.  Smiling broadly, he squeezed his beamer between two cabs.  Glancing back, he realized one was a mythical Checkered Cab.  They didn't show up all that often.

    Bozwell turned back to the road, Delancy Avenue.  He had just crossed the Williamsburg Bridge and was heading for Lafayette Street.  Humming quietly to himself, he stopped at red light.  In his rearview mirror, he noticed the Checkered Cab was directly behind him.  He smiled, it was one of the last in the city.  Probably fewer than twenty by now.

    Then... fire.  A shock wave shattered all the windows along the road and a fireball swept across it.  The explosion sent debris, smoke, ash, cars and people flying through the air.  Cars were tossed across the broad street and exploded in flames themselves.  As soon as the fireball dissipated, a second wave of dust and debris filled the air.

    Bozwell watched as, just a block back, chaos erupted.  The violent explosion was accompanied by all the expected carnage and mayhem.  Bloodied and bleeding people wandered the streets.  Climbing from his car, his cell phone in hand.  Bozwell stumbled through the wrecked cars and chunks of cement.  It was then that he realized he couldn't hear the phone.

    He held it to his ear but the dial tone was absent.  Also, the cries and screams that should echo in his ears had faded.  All Bozwell, Boz to his friends, heard was a steady, low-pitched hum.  Dialing anyway, he waited a full minute then began to speak.  Unsure as to whether the 911 operator heard him.  He repeated himself twice, alarmed that he could not hear his own words.

    Wandering the streets, a host of injured New Yorkers seek comfort they won't find.  As emergency crews begin to flood the area, a tiny package is already being delivered to the Midtown South Police Precinct.  Although it is delivered to the desk of Det. Palmira Sanchez before noon, she did not actually open it until the next day.

    Chord Wheeler arrived with Frank and Mira.  All had heard the explosion and seen the cloud of dust and debris before the rising sun.  The scene that greeted them could not be described in words.  It was one that has been seen all too many times.  In Oklahoma City, Nairobi, and Dhahran, Saudi Arabia.  It was the site of a terrorist bombing.  And it would only be the first.

    Rollie was finished with Blue and had decided that he didn't really care what Angie thought.  He stood expectantly in the entrance of the loft, muttering on occasion.  Sighing, he noticed that she had left a single slipper at the foot of the stairs.  He walked slowly over to get it when a thought crossed Rollie's mind.  He smiled and eased to his workbench to make it a reality.

    Working in the quite loft, he felt very alone.  Looking about sharply, Rollie called out for Blue to turn on some music.  Skipping through the selections rapidly, he eliminated a half dozen albums.  It wasn't what he wanted.  He wanted... he wanted to hear her breathing.  Rollie looked at his reflection in the computer monitor.  That's pretty damn strange, Tyler.  Even for you.

    Frank's face was solemn and dark.  He had been taking statements from those few witness' not gravely injured by the blast.  It seemed as though everyone close enough to see anything had been seriously injured.  He didn't know enough numbers to count those less seriously injured.  His steely gaze drifting from the weak woman giving her statement, his eyes fell upon a small girl.

    Tears welled up when he noticed the similarities between her and his own daughters.  She looked like Carol Ann, he told himself.  The world around him faded as he was drawn to the silent form on the curb.

    She was pretty, with large eyes and dark hair.  Her face was soft, but dirty and tear streaked.  Frank swallowed hard as he saw the blood on her clothing.  His eyes locked with hers and he approached her.  She was staring straight ahead.  His heart ached in a way he couldn't block and tears rolled down his face.

    The little girl, an innocent to the world with no cares or responsibilities, had silently bleed to death.  The color that would have marked her cheeks and the light that ordinarily danced in her eyes was gone.  She was slumped on the ground, where she had collapsed an hour ago.  Her face was untouched, just smudged with grime.  Her body, however, had been torn open by shrapnel.  Her left arm was missing and a large part of her torso had gone with it.

    The gruesome sight was one of many.  The emergency crews were so overwhelmed saving the living, they had no time for the dead.  And as the police and newly arriving FBI agents tried to preserve evidence and take statements, the bodies lay where they fell.  It was a horrific testament to the inner strength of the average New Yorker that witness after witness could be interviewed within yards of the empty gazes of the dead.

    Now, though, now Frank Gatti felt his emotions boil to the surface at this delicate little girl.  A life that should have been full and varied was cut short, cruelly, painfully.  His tears full of emotion and grief, he felt as though he had failed her personally.  Without wiping the salty tears from his face, he shrugged off his light coat and draped it over her body.

    Mira, who was working close by, watched this in mute empathy.  She felt her own grief rising, but pushed it down forcefully.  To find this monster was all they could do.  She wouldn't allow herself to be overwhelmed, it would only cloud her judgment and slow the work.  Turning back to the witness, an older man who might have been well dressed before the bombing.

    Chord also saw Frank's display.  He empathized, but right now he couldn't feel any sorrow.  He was galvanized by anger.  His fury grew with every victim, with every moment he stood in the wreckage.  His mind reeled with the sheer scale of this tragedy.  No one could even find the epicenter of the explosion.  It had demolished most of the four-story building at the corner of Delancy and Attorney.

    The crowd gathering was absorbing his time.  Heartless rubbernecks were carefully being redirected onto side streets and legions of slack jawed gawkers filled his vision.  His rage was fueled by the ubiquitous lens of the news camera.  Sure, they had a right to film the scene.  But when they cornered victims to harass them with questions, he exploded.

    "Get away, you Vultures!  Have you no Decency?"  He roared.  The camera, flooding the story live to TV sets across the country just watched.

    "Not two hours ago, these people experienced the worst moment of their lives!  And you have to get every moment on tape!  Feeding it right down our throats, you make me sick!  I should strip you of that God Damn camera!  Maybe then you could see this with your eyes!  Maybe then you could be human."  Chord's anger seethed out like venom.  The correspondent had long since silenced, a reproachful cast on his face.  The camera man himself shuttered, feeling unclean at his voracity and relentlessness.

    "It's times like these, people need to be human.  We can't afford the detachment of the media, everyone has to feel.  A reporter has a duty to the story, but his duty to humanity has to come first!  Otherwise... otherwise, this has no meaning at all."  His words softened as his anger slackened.

    At that moment, Sgt. Wheeler's superior noticed his tirade.  Motioning him away from the cameras, at that point several had been trained on him.  Chord reluctantly shuffled over, his face flooding with color as he realized how he had come across.  Standing before Captain VanDuran, he accepted the lecture with a final glance back at the media.

    Rollie was muted by horror.  He just stared at the screen as image after image flooded his mind.  'Oh good God!' his mind reeled.  Tears began to rise to the surface and Rollie just let them flow.  His heart was aching and he couldn't feel his hands.  Oh Angie!  My Angie!  Please no...

Chapter 2

    The light flickering across his face, he watched.  Pain flooding his heart and he felt sorrow unlike anything since his childhood.  She... she, oh lord.  Rollie wasn't thinking.  It didn't occur to him to shut it off, to end the images now ingrained on his mind, forever.  He watched numbly as all that had happened played across the screen.

    An emptiness flooded him.  And tears he would hold against broken legs and bullet wounds poured forth.  His hand reached out, to stroke the image of Angie.  His dear, sweet Angie.  Gently, his fingertips caressed the softness of her face.  Then he spun in horror.

    Angie had swung open the door, announcing her arrival with a cry of Rollie's name.  She froze dead in her tracks when the sight greeting her became clear.  Rollie stood, his hand gently laid upon the computer monitor.  Playing was the tape of Angie's night with Loubar, and the following morning.  She felt the bile rise in her throat as she realized he had seen it all.

    Rollie was shocked when Angie stood before him, her face frozen in terror.  He shouldn't have watched, he should have turned it off.  It was an invasion of privacy, an assault on Angie's pride.  The worst possible thing was for her to walk in on it.  Even so, seeing her flooded him with a sense of relief and emotion he couldn't vocalize.  So for several moments, the two stared at one another in silent contemplation.

    The silence was shattered by a croak from Angie.  She just gulped and felt her eyes fogging.  Rollie slowly moved to her and she fell into his arms.  The tears were slow and gentle, not like the uncontrollable sobbing of those first few days.  She and Rollie just held each other as the salty tears rolled down their cheeks.

    She was sorry he had to see it, but some how she knew he would eventually.  Even though it was erased entirely from the mainframe and all traces of that night were gone from the memory.  She had made sure of that.  There weren't any copies, anywhere.  It never occurred to her that it might have been a gift.

    Rollie had just intended to check his e-mail.  Usually, Angie did it when she checked her own.  He never really go into the whole bit, he preferred speaking face to face.  But with everything today being about the computer, and everyone is in such a hurry, a whole lot of business was conducted that way.  Plans and scripts were e-mailed regularly, schedules, meetings, locations, just about everything in the business involved e-mail in one way or another.

    And the first file he opened, addressed to Rollie Tyler, URGENT:  TO BE OPENED UPON RECEIPT was a kicker.  It immediately opened a video file, no audio, that caught his attention.  He hadn't recognized the significance until he noticed the award, the award he had destroyed rather than keep.  The award he had earned through hard work and diligence, that should have meant the world to him.  That despite his great appreciation, he had thrown away.  For Angie.

    Watching, what amounted to his own manipulations of Angie, Rollie felt a sick feeling in his chest.  With the tentative kiss, he moaned out loud.  He watched as every moment played across the screen.  Angie was so gentle, so open.  He watched as the seduction continued, as he brought her slowly up to the bedroom.  No!  It wasn't him, it was Loubar.

    But it didn't register, he knew in his mind but his eyes told him differently.  He watched as Angie and he made love.  She gave him herself, completely and freely.  It hurt as he realized that all powerful emotion, directed at him, was heaped on his vile enemy.  On screen, Angie and he fell asleep quietly together.

    Again, the video cut to a different camera, this one downstairs the next morning.  He could see himself watching the previous night.  He could see the cold expression on his own face.  Rollie prayed that he never look like that, prayed his eyes would never hold such emptiness.  But his attention had been diverted by the appearance of Angie.

    Despite himself, he smiled.  She gradually walked down the stairs to find his doppelganger.  A contented, peaceful look upon her face.  'Such innocence, so sweet and gentle,' he thought.  'Why couldn't I see how she felt, why did I let it come to this?'

    As he reflected upon his own shortcomings, Rollie reached out to touch the still glowing face of his partner.  The softness drained when she saw what Loubar had been watching.  Recoiling, Rollie returned his hand to the screen.  And as Angie was betrayed by their greatest foe, she was betrayed again walking into the loft.

    They held one another for a moment.  Then Rollie steered her to a couch.  Sitting, they began to speak hesitantly.

    "Ang, I'm sorry-" Rollie began.

    "There isn't anything for you to be sorry about, I should have expected you to see it eventually."  Emotion choked her voice as she stroked his handsome face.

    "No Ang, there is.  Angel, I'm to blame... No, let me finish."  Rollie had raised a hand to her lips, his fingers lingering on her soft, full pout.  When he spoke again, it was careful but deliberate.

    "If I had just recognized your feelings, if had really looked at my own.  Something might have happened before...  It isn't just that I ignored your feelings, I left open an opportunity for someone to hurt you in the worst way," his voice trembling, broken with emotion.  "The only thing that matters is you, and letting you down is the greatest failure I've ever had.  But... I swear, on all that is, I... I will never do it again.  You'll be safe and ha... happy, if it costs me my life."

    Tears rolled down both their faces, their foreheads touching and noses lightly brushing each others.  Rollie's soliloquy complete, Angie steadied her breathing and spoke, barely a whisper but with all the power of the sun.

    "All that'll make me happy... and all that I need to feel safe, is you."

    The tension broken and their feelings laid bare, a gentle laugh broke out between them.  Smiling, they wiped their faces and looked at each other.  So much had been said, both with words and without.  They almost didn't know what to do next... when a voice shattered the loft.

    "I hope you enjoyed our show, Tyler.  Because it's just a hint of what's to come.  Welcome to the Labyrinth, Rollie.  No one can save you now."

    Rollie's head snapped around to see the image of Victor Loubar staring out at him.  He was off the couch and to the computer before Angie could speak.  Her voice caught in her throat as fear filled her.  He was back.

Chapter 3

    "I'm afraid I can't comment on that point, that information isn't available at the present time.  Next question?"  The Deputy Mayor was diligently working through the  press conference.  Angie watched, half stunned as first Loubar than the bombing assaulted her thoughts.  What more could he take from them?  Who would be so cruel?  What would Rollie do?  How are they going to catch the bombers?  Her thoughts bounced weakly from one crisis to the other.

    Rollie had carefully screened the video again, this time watching it carefully, detached and professional.  Nothing was apparent, even with the message from Loubar.  It was just his head with a plain black background.  It might have been done anywhere in the world.

    Angie would have done the analysis, but watching that video again... she shivered.  It was so cold for April, she thought.  As the day wore on, Rollie had grown furious when he couldn't get in touch with Mira or Francis.  Then, they had seen the news.

    "Ang, I think maybe we should get out of the city for while," Rollie was looking in her eyes.  For the briefest of moments, she could only think of how beautiful they were.

    "Rollie, we never ran before.  I won't let us now.  This is our home, and he isn't going to scare us away."  She was confident, but if Rollie challenged her she knew her timid resolution would crumble.

    "Whatever you want," he said hesitantly.

    When the phone ring they both jumped.  Calling out to Bluey, Rollie heard his new bark.  He smiled appreciatively when Angie stared at the deeper, richer timber to the mechanical pet.  She rose from the couch and went to the kitchen to make tea.

    "Tyler," Rollie said crisply.  An idea flashed through his head of a directional mic that would track him, so he wouldn't have to speak so loudly.

    "Rollie, it's Mira.  I finally checked my voice mail, what's going on?"  Her voice was forced but concerned.

    "It can wait, Mira.  I just heard about the bombing, you have more important things-"

    "Cut the crap, Tyler.  Spill it, you seemed plenty urgent with those last two messages."  Rollie smiled despite of himself, she could certainly cut to the quick.

    "Loubar's back and he's gunning for us," Rollie expected a reaction.  What he got was down right Pavlovian.  As the spanish expletives died, Rollie heard Mira take a couple of deep breaths.  "We'll be right there."

    "No, Mira.  It's-  She hung up."  Rollie looked at Angie who handed him his tea.  Suddenly, a thought passed through her eyes and Rollie knew what she was thinking.

    "We'll only show them the tail end of the video.  I'll erase the rest."  She nodded her assent, still not speaking.

    For the balance of an hour, Rollie and Angie sat and sipped tea.  For the most part they were quiet, but occasionally the silence was broken for quiet conversation.  The day, which had begun with so much promise was drawing to a close.

    Mira and Francis looked terrible, was the first thought through Angie's mind.  Of course, the crime scene must of been straight out of Dante.  They traded brief pleasantries before setting to work.  She noticed the hollow look in Frank's eyes and concern for him swelled with in her.

    "This is all you received?"  Mira asked impatiently.

    "There's more, but it isn't your concern."  This earned Rollie a pair of belligerent faces.  He continued, "Ang and I couldn't trace it or find anything to nail down a location.  One thing of interest, the trail of servers lead all over the world, but only two of the three dozen we traced were in America."

    "So, doesn't that suggest he's out of the country?"  Frank asked quietly.  He was still curious about the 'show' the arch criminal had referred to.  From the tension in the room, it had something to do with last December.

    "Actually, since the Internet has always been primarily US based, it suggests someone was trying hard to not leave tracks in the States."  Angie was feeling more comfortable with this discussion.  It wasn't about her night with Loubar, it had nothing to do with what he had done.  They were trying to find him, like any other crook.

    "So, you think he is in America?"  Mira asked.

    "Yeah, I think he's in New York."  This earned Rollie three surprised faces.  "Well, he's going to try for me again.  To do that he has to at least be able to see me."

    It continued like this for sometime.  It was even suggested the bombing might be related, the timing of the events being uncannily linked.  The e-mail had originated at the very moment the explosion ripped through the Manhattan streets.

    The hours flitted away, and Frank became antsy to go home.  The three bachelors nodded understanding as he made a few weak excuses and left.  Angie didn't like the circles beneath his eyes, they had seemed to grow since he had been there.

    "Is Frank okay?" she asked Mira.

    "I guess so, he had an emotional moment with a victim earlier today.  I think it might've had something to do with his kids."  Mira agreed with Angie, he seemed worn.

    "So, do you have any leads yet?"  Rollie decided a change of subjects could help clear the air.  The uncertainty of Loubar was tense.

    "No, the feds are all over it.  We won't have any jurisdiction by the end of tomorrow.  That really burns me, we get scorched and the FBI wants the investigation."  She noticed how closely Rollie was sitting to Angie.  For a moment she read something into it, she shook off the feeling.

    "No one has claimed credit for it?"  Angie could feel the warmth beside her.  She smiled, settling in besides Rollie.

    "Just about every nut case under the sun.  But they're all just media whores, wanting attention for their own 'cause'.  Whoever really did it most likely would have sent a warning before hand, to set up some kind of credibility with the authorities.  But as far as I know, neither the FBI or NYPD have received something like that."

    The three friends spoke of other topics, their careers and pleasantries a world away from the tragedy of the day.  Soon, Mira had left and Rollie and Angie were pleasantly chatting.  The night grew long and before either noticed, it was very late.

    "Angie," Rollie said slowly.

    "Yeah, Rol."

    "Stay."

    She turned to him from the sink.  The dishes of the meal they had made together still soaking.  Their eyes met and she melted.  Drying her hands, she walked slowly over to him.  Taking his hands, she smiled and nodded.  For the next three hours, they lounged on the sofa speaking of simpler times.  Of their early days together, of Manny and the business.

    Rollie was astonished by the detail of his memories concerning Angie.  When he thought of his time with Rick, only incidents played in his mind.  And many of those were just flashes and phrases.  But when he thought of the young Angie, he almost always remembered the tiniest details.  He wasn't sure if it was because she was just that important, or if being together brought it out.

    Angie was happily chatting with Rollie when she began to drift away.  First her words slurred, then she paused for longer and longer periods.  Finally, Rollie lifted her dozing form and carried her upstairs.  Setting her gently into the bed, he pulled the covers over her and stroked her face.

    "You'll be okay.  I'll be here, forever," he said.  Watching her nestle into the bed, he smiled with such gratitude, it wouldn't fade until long after he was asleep himself.

    "... stop with marshmallows..." she muttered as he grabbed a spare pillow and laid out on the floor.  'It would be comfortable enough, and I can hear her breathing to boot,' he thought.

    The serene moment in the loft would remain with both the handsome Aussie and gorgeous Cuban.  Even through the dreams of serpents and fire, that last sense of calm and contentment would linger.   Passing into the morning, when Rollie received the frantic phone call from Mira.  Unfortunately, the memory of the still evening would be just that, even into the trials to come.

Chapter 4

    "Where the hell have you two been?" Mira was maniacal.  Her eyes wide, she had stormed out of a conference room the moment Rollie and Angie appeared.

    "We came when you called, but there's only one bathroom and we needed some breakfast," Rollie responded defensively.

    "What's doing's Mira?  Something about Loubar?"  Angie defused the situation deftly, ending the argument before it began.  Rollie had doted over her, giving her the bed, the shower , making breakfast and the like.  She kind of enjoyed it, and didn't want the morning blown too quickly.

    "There is something you need to see.  This way." Mira was moving quickly back to the conference room.

    Rollie and Angie just traded looks and followed.  'So much for my magic morning', Angie thought.  Rollie, on the other hand, felt anticipation climb in his chest.  'Whatever's coming', he thought, 'this 'll kick it off.'

    Once inside, Rollie noticed the TV and VCR.  On the large table was a plain brown package in a clear plastic bag.  Frank sat quietly, his eyes still haunted.  VanDuran entered shortly after and sat silently.  He glanced and the two interlopers but said nothing.

    "This arrived yesterday, but for obvious reasons I didn't open it until this morning.  The first thing I noticed was no return address, and inside, was this tape."  Mira than popped the tape in the VCR.

    "What does this have to do with us?"  Rollie noticed several more people enter silently.  He was getting one of those feelings.  Glancing quickly at Angie, he noticed her sitting with her hands in her lap.

    "Let's just see the tape, then I can answer you're questions."  Mira hit play and the room was quiet.

    The whir of the VCR head as it read the magnetic tape was all they could hear.  Someone cleared their throat when the picture came to life.  It was a plain black background, into which stepped Victor Loubar.  A murmur rose as he spoke, but a wave of Rollie's hand silenced everyone.

    "Well, Tyler.  I didn't send this to you directly because this involves the whole city.  I'm certain I have all of your undivided attention, so I'll continue.  You probably already know that I'm responsible for the bombing.  It was just to get your attention."  Loubar said all of this with a cruel glint in his eye.

    "I've already welcomed you to the Labyrinth, now it's time to explain the rules.  You will soon find that there are seven more weapons of obscene destructive power hidden in your fair city.  Six are a part of the game, the last is the referee, if you will.  Play fair, and its location will be known, no matter the out come."

    Angie watched this hated man, an anger so intense she could hardly see the screen clearly.  Then, like a stream of frigid water, her insides went cold.  He was going to play Rollie to the death.  This was all just to finish whatever had started all those months and a lifetime ago.  Breathing deeply, Angie controlled her anger, she would have to convince Rollie not to play.  It was rigged, one way or another he'd lose.

    "I'll be explaining more in later communications, but right now you have only twelve hours to deduce the next target.  You have all you need to go on.  But can you sort it out in time?"  An expression which could have only been a smile flashed across his face.  "Good luck Tyler, you're the first, last and only line of defense."

    The tape ended, and Mira Sanchez stood back up.  No one spoke, she removed the tape and bagged it.  Labeling them as evidence and sticking a delivery sticker on the two baggies, they were to go to a lab.  There, they would be tested and examined so that it could be established there were no leads.

    Rollie had sat silently throughout the entire video, and still said nothing.  He just glared at the screen fiercely.  That creature would be dead, if it took every ounce of life in his body.  Angie reached out, gently laying a hand on his arm.  He turned his head and his eyes held a fury she didn't recognize, that scared her.  Rollie's eyes focused and the warmth and love she knew flooded her.  He smiled grimly and patted her hand.

    "So where do we start?"  It was simple and direct.  Communicating all that needed to be said.

    "I think we need to establish where the next bomb will be detonated.  Then we can define a course of action."  This came from one of the nameless suits, his manner was brisk and to the point.

    "He said we already had all we needed, what does that mean?"  Angie asked.

    "Obviously he has left us clues, or at least what he believes are clues.  We just have to figure out what they are," VanDuran said, standing.  He moved to the door, speaking to the men in suits.  "I want your people to work with my own, we can't afford any jurisdictional nonsense.  Not right now, when Loubar's in the bag, then we haggle over who gets him.  Agreed?"

    "My thoughts exactly," said the Rude Man.  "My only concern is the mandated involvement of... Mister Tyler."

    "Mister Tyler has better things to do than dodge death.  If you have a problem with my involvement, maybe I could just head home."

    "Rol..." Angie said softly.

    "You professionals could handle it like you always do.  Foul things up until my life is at stake, then let Loubar slip through your fingers!"  Rollie growled.

    "Rollie, please."

    "Mister Tyler, I-" said the Rude Man.

    "No!  We've had this monster tracking us for years now.  And as close as I have come to stopping him, you boys always manage to drop the ball.  Now, I'm going to put an end to Victor Loubar before anyone else dies."  The room fell silent, everyone shifting uncomfortably.  The fire in Rollie's eyes was burning its way through the Rude Man.

    "Perhaps we should wait until cooler heads have risen," replied VanDuran.

    "We'll find him and kill him," Francis said to Rollie.  Rollie spun on his heels and his eyes met those of Frank Gatti.

    The room of law enforcement watched as the two friends made their pact.  Rollie was shocked by the darkness of Frank's eyes, the anger behind them.  It shook him, not for what he saw but because he shared that look.  It was the face of a good man pushed too far.  Rollie prayed they could make it back again.

    "Let's go Frank," Rollie said without a glance at anyone else.  They left the room is silence, a quiet only broken by Angie's hurried exit.  Mira just shook her head, hoping nothing went terribly wrong.  There would be enough dead bodies before this was through, she didn't want any of them to have familiar faces.

Chapter 5

    Frank and Rollie were working diligently back at the loft.  Before them were copies of all the latest information about the bombing.  They were picking through, examining different reports, photographs and other assorted trivia.  Rollie's PDA keeping a list of various items he thinks significant.

    "There must be some pattern, to his plans.  A procession from one bomb to the next," Frank said, leafing through a list of tenants in the detonated building.  The history of each was being track, soon they'd know which was Loubar's alias.

    "It's going to be simple.  Almost absurdly so.  He wants me to find it, so I have no choice but to help."

    "Where is he going with this?  He said the entire city was involved, could it be in one of the other boroughs?  Maybe across the river in Brooklyn?"

    "What, like across the bridge somewhere?  It's possible."

    "Maybe it's the bridge itself," Angie suggests.  Her presence spooking both men, they whip around to see her carrying take out.

    "Jeezus, Ang!  You scared the living tar out of me."  Rollie stood and took the food from her.  He paused to gently touch her elbow, she responded with a weak smile.

    "Me too, so what'd you get?"  Frank asked, opening a bag to finding spare ribs, sweet and sour pork and an assortment of Chinese food.

    "Chinese, I was worried you two wouldn't eat.  Um, Rol, can I talk to you?"

    "Always Ang, what's up?"  Rol and taken out an egg roll and dug in.

    "Alone," she said.  Looking to Frank, he nodded and they crossed the workshop.

    "What's this about Angie?" Rollie was worried, this was probably going to be bad.

    "Rollie, I'm worried about you.  About both of you," Angie said.  She took his hand in her own and felt how cold it was.  "This isn't going to end well, and things were only just getting..."

    Rollie quieted her by stroking her cheek.  He looked into her eyes, the concern she felt and fear she fought were all there.  And here he was, ignoring her feelings again.  But dammit, this had to end.  He couldn't let Loubar destroy the city, he couldn't let him remain free.  It had to end, for Angie as much as anyone else.

    "I give you my word, when the smoke clears, we'll be together.  You just have to be strong a little longer.  Then, everything's going to be perfect."  Rollie hoped with all his heart he wasn't lying.  Again he ran his fingers down her face.  A face he'd memorized, that he saw every time he closed his eyes.  'And she feels the same way about me,' he thought cheerfully, 'we just have to get through this and we can be together.'

    "Rol, I need you to know something.  I... well, I-" Angie was quieted again by Rollie's touch.  This time, it was an embrace.  His strong arms pulling her close, their bodies warming one another.

    "I do too, sweetie.  I do too," he whispered.  He held her for what seemed an eternity.  Finally letting go, only to find she would not.  "C'mon, Ang.  Let's go save the world."

    Back at the station, the Rude Man was extremely irritated.  He followed VanDuran as the captain moved about his precinct.  The investigation was going slowly, and as hard as the men worked no clues were forthcoming.  The frustration was growing as everyone realized the deadline closed.

    The video had been examined closely as had the package.  It was discovered that within the ordinary brown packaging were many fine copper wires.  When Mira had opened it, the current traveling through the wires was terminated and a transmitter had sent a brief signal.  The simple, durable device was ingenious, but so easily assembled that no leads were developed from it.

    "I just received a call from my superiors.  Your District Attorney Delanc-"

    "Dammit, Burgstrom!  I don't give a damn what the DA says.  For that matter, I don't care if the head of the Justice Department comes down here and personally authorizes you to take a piss.  You and your well dressed cronies can go take a flying fuc-  What!?!"  VanDuran was increasingly angry.  The next target would be hit within hours and they couldn't even narrow it down to a borough.

    "I think I should try and find Tyler and Gatti, they might have had better luck."  Mira was amazed at the ferocity of the captain's words.  He was really telling those suits where to stuff it.

    "GO!" then to Burgstrom, "Your methods haven't born fruit and your efforts have alienated the only person with any connection to this bomber.  Now I'm certain you mean well and are just trying to do your jobs... But so help me, I'll crush your skull if you cost me one New York life."  VanDuran's eyes flashed and the Rude Man, Rupert Burgstrom, stepped back.

    "Captain VanDuran, I'll put my men at your disposal and step aside.  You obviously have a greater interest in this, and you're correct, I have bungled things so far.  I hope you stop this mad man.  Good Luck."  He extended his hand, shaking VanDuran's hand and walking away.

    Marvin VanDuran watched him retreat and felt certain this wasn't the end.  Burgstrom was no good samaritan.  His agenda was as political as any bureaucrat in D.C.  'The worst part about all this,' he thought to himself, 'is that he's smart and he's cagey.  It would be hard to stay a step ahead of him.'

    While VanDuran tried to track the motives of the Justice Department agent, Mira Sanchez was rushing to the loft.  She was certain they would make more progress, it always worked out that way.  Tyler F/X seemed to have a sixth sense, one that saved lives in the past and, at least she hoped, in the future.

    Arriving in record time, she burst through the door to find three friends eating dinner.  At the moment they were laughing and passing beef stir fry around.  They turned, surprised by the dramatic entrance.  Mira flushed, realizing she was a little hyperactive, but was concerned at the laid back attitude being displayed.

    "C'mon in Mira," Angie blurted out.  This sent Frank and Rollie on another fit of laughter.

    "Sorry, but, uh, what the hell is going on?"  Mira shut the door and waved at the barking Bluey.  She did a double take as the rich, full imitation of a dog reached her ears.

    "We've just taken a little break to eat.  You want something?" asked Francis.  He was smiling, happy to be with friends.  But the dark circles of his eyes still flashed with a sadness she hated.

    "Yeah, might as well.  You know, the Cap has been getting pressure from all angles to hand over the investigation to the Justice Department."  Mira picked up some chopsticks and tossed a few noodles in her mouth.

    "Justice Department, where those the suits I saw?"  Rollie was putting down his food, not hungry any longer and growing more concerned.

    "Yeah, that guy you chewed out is the chief field agent for their New York office.  You might consider apologizing."

    "Like Hell I'll apologize," he responded resolutely.

    "Listen, before we get all chatty, we're running out of time.  I opened that package around eight, that leaves us... less than two hours now.  We've got to figure this out."  Mira anxiously glanced at her watch again, hoping it wasn't slow.

    "Yeah, about that... We think we've got it tracked," Frank was smiling softly.

    "I'm not so sure, that might be premature," Rollie disagreed.

    "Well, let's hear it," Mira asked.

    "Okay, so the explosion occurred just off the Williamsburg bridge.   But, Loubar has repeatedly mentioned a Labyrinth and he's referred to this like some kind of game.  So we got the idea he's gunning for the Bronx.  It's got Yankee Stadium and the Botanical Gardens," Frank explained.

    "A hedge maze, doesn't really sound like Loubar's style," Mira countered dubiously.

    "Neither does a ballpark, besides, what would it accomplish?"  Rollie responded.

    "I don't know, maybe just to rattle us or destroy something beautiful," Frank said defensively.  He didn't notice the reaction from Angie and Rollie.  "The point is, it's a place to start.  And we're running out of time."

    "Then we should pass it along.  Someone should look into them, one way or another.  You two, just hang out here.  If and when we find something, we'll need you there, ASAP," Mira said.  She and Frank had already taken out their cell phones and headed for the door.

    "Shouldn't we go with you?" asked Angie.

    "No! Hang on.  No, the loft is as close as anywhere else.  It'll be faster if you wait for us to find the bomb.  Then, whatever it is that Loubar has planned, we can face it together.  Yeah, I'm still here..."  Frank was already filling in the captain and task force.  They would have teams flooding the Bronx and searching any landmark in sight.

    "Alright, call us as soon as possible."  Rollie closed the door behind the two detectives.  He turned to Angie and pulled her into a hug.  "We had a one in five chance.  I just hope we guessed right."

    They moved to the couch, where the files and folders lay spread all over.  Pushing them aside, they sat in silence.  Expecting at any moment for the phone to ring and Rollie to be called into action.  Soon, an hour drained away and Rollie had begun pacing.  Angie's hands were shaking, she just wanted to take her mind off the whole thing.

    Turning on the television, the seven o'clock news was just wrapping up.  As she might have guessed, they were concentrating on the bombing.  It appeared that some politician was giving statements outside City Hall.

    "And as I have been saying all day, both to the mayor and law enforcement authorities.  These bombers will be captured and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.  Now if you will excuse me, I have another meeting in my office that involves pressing business," said the well dressed bureaucrat.  He was relatively young, around thirty-five or forty, and had dark hair with streaks of grey throughout.

    "As you can see, the newly elected District Attorney Edwin Delancy is attacking the first true threat to the city of his fledgling first term.  Hopefully, the new energy and spirit he promised in his campaign will end this investigation quickly.  This is Morgan Grant, reporting live from City Hall."  The Anchor continued speaking but no one heard.

    Angie watched as, over the course of the report, Rollie ceased his pacing and stared at the screen.  Then, grabbing his coat and a PDA he yelled for Angie to call Mira.  Moving with a speed Angie was astonished by, Rollie reached his Acura and was heading out of the loft before she could even respond.  Looking back to the television, she was puzzled.

    Then, she glanced at some of the files and noticed what had been appallingly obvious.  Crying out to Bluey, she relayed what Rollie and she just realized.  Then, grabbing a spare set of keys she climbed into the Ram and speed off in pursuit of Rollie.  He would get there before anyone else, she only hoped it wouldn't cost him his life.  The only thought coursing through Angie's mind, besides a general concern for Rollie, was the 'clue' Loubar had left behind.  The bomb had been detonated at the corner of Attorney and Delancy.

Chapter 6

    Rollie rocketed through the bustling city streets.  He drove with an urgency spawned from time.  Time which was running out.  As he fishtailed around yet another corner, he gunned the engine in his red sports car again.  Pushing his driving abilities to the limit and forcing the car to move with uncommon agility, Rollie was praying he could make it in time.

    Angie had long since lost track of the sleek red car she had attempted to follow.  Speaking on her own cellular, she explained to Mira in greater detail what had happened.  The broadcast making it plain that the target for Loubar's next bomb was freshman DA, Edwin Delancy.  A target who was wholly unsuspecting and whose time was running short.

    Frank and Mira had been astonished by the frenzied phone call they received.  Angie barked out a string of words, not organized in any tangible order.  Somehow, they understood that the bomb was at City Hall, that the bomb squads and search teams were miles from the genuine danger.  And Rollie was already on his way.

    "Delancy, Attorney and Delancy!  Why the hell didn't we see it Mira?  How could we miss it?"  Frank was driving with wild abandon.  His own car swerving and spinning much like Rollie's was.

    "We just didn't," she grimaced as they nearly clipped a tractor trailer, "Ayudami!"

    "What was that?" Frank asked.

    "Nothing, Frank.  Um, that's a one way street," she said plainly.

    "I know," Frank responded.  The sound of horns blaring filled the air as they continued toward City Hall.

    Rollie hopped the curb and barreled down the sidewalk.  As they pedestrians leapt out of the way Rollie checked his watch while pounding on the horn.  Twenty till, he was moments away but had no idea where Delancy was.  In addition, he would have to deal with security and bureaucrats.  Things didn't look very good.

    Skidding around the corner of Chambers and Center, Rollie climbed the curb and parked the car on the sidewalk.  Leaping out he found spectators gawking at him.  Racing to the nearest entrance, he found several security men waiting for him.

    "Mr. Tyler, we received a call from Captain VanDuran.  You're to follow us to the conference room," said one.

    "You're not going to believe what's in there," said the other as all three men raced up two stories.

    As the men arrived at the door to the conference room, they found a crowd of security personal, police and spectators.  Pushing their way through and opening the door, Rollie was quickly faced with a remarkable sight.  Standing at one end of the table was District Attorney Delancy, one hand on a plain black briefcase and his face coated in sweat.  At his feet, a broad black mat and beneath the table was a mass of cables and a large case.

    "I take it your Rollie Tyler," the frightened man squeaked.

    "Yeah, you're Delancy?" Rollie answered absent mindedly.  He was already directing his considerable technical skill toward the mysterious device beneath the table.

    "Call me Edwin, um, the man said you should come over here."

    Rollie's head jerked up and looked in the man's eyes.  He was looking at the briefcase on the table.  As Rollie moved closer, he found it was a great deal more.  What looked like a pressure sensitive pad was beneath the DA's hand.  Furthermore, cables from the mat on the floor ran to the black case as well as the box beneath the table.

    Rollie stood beside Delancy, off the mat but near the table.  He looked down at the briefcase and soon realized it had a flat screen monitor beside the pressure pad occupied by Delancy's hand.  He performed a cursory examination of the device and determined it was connected to what was most likely the bomb casing beneath the table.

    "When I first stepped onto the mat, a message appeared.  I, um, it was some man warning about a bomb.  I had to put my hand down or it would... you're supposed to step on the pad beside me."  Delancy was noticeably disturbed.

    Rollie realized he had probably been standing for more than half an hour, expecting at any moment to be killed.  Under the circumstances, he was pretty controlled.  Rollie wondered how much longer they had.  Mira had said around eight, was that before or after?  He mentally shrugged and pulled out the cell phone.

    "Mira, it's Rollie.  Yeah, I'm there right now.  The bomb is armed and Delancy is on a pressure pad of some sort.  I'm supposed to join him, then some message from Loubar should play for me.  No, it's just a guess.  Two minutes, okay."  Rollie closed the phone and swallowed deeply.

    "The police are on their way?"  Delancy muttered.

    "Yeah, bomb squad too.  But it looks like this is just me and him.  I'm sorry you've been involved."

    "Perhaps later, you can fill me in on who this character is and why he wants you badly enough to kill," Edwin looked over at Rollie.

    "Christ, I don't even understand."

    "Rollie!  Rollie, hang on.  Let me through you oaf!"  Angie's voice echoed through the corridors of City Hall.  She pushed past several officers to stand defiantly inside the conference room.

    "Angie, get the hell outta here!"  Rollie bellowed.

    "No," was her response.

    "Dammit, Ang.  If things go bad-"

    "Then I'd rather be here with you than sitting through your wake.  I'm staying Rollie, you'll need my help anyway."  She started resolutely at her boss and friend.  And hopefully, so much more.

    Looking into her eyes, his expression softened and he nodded his assent.  She immediately went to examine the connections between the bomb casing and interface.  After a few brief moments of examination, she rose grimly.

    "It's got feedback loops and collapsible circuits.  If there was a way to defuse it, it would be plainly visible.  Loubar's too good to have left any openings."  Rollie nodded and began examine the terminal.

    "So there isn't anything that can be done?" Delancy cried.

    "It isn't possible to reroute the circuits or cut the connections, that doesn't mean there isn't anything we can do.  The most vulnerable part of a device like this is always the trigger.  A timer, a pressure pad, whatever it is that sets of the charge can be spoofed.  That's why they can usually be finessed by the bomb squad."  Angie said all this looking deep into Delancy's eyes.

    "Who are you?" he replied.  Her eyes provided such comfort, he calmed from the brink of panic.

    "I'm Angie, everything's going to be fine.  Right?" She smiled and he nodded his assent.

    "I don't think we can afford to wait any longer," Rollie said suddenly.  He looked at Angie and winked.  Stepping onto the pad, the screen flared to life.

    "The pressure sensitive pad you just stepped on, Tyler, has been carefully calibrate to the combined weight of you two gentlemen.  Now before anything else happens, let me explain the rules.  The goal of our game is simple, you want to survive and I want to kill you," Loubar said.  Delancy blanched but Rollie remained impassive.  Angie could hear clearly, but the angle of the screen made it difficult to see.

    "Just to make certain you play along, I have added a little incentive to the mix.  This laptop, as well as it's five counter-parts, contain my entire knowledge of the criminal underworld.  Organizations, terrorist groups, locations of installations, records of financial dealings, a complete diary of all my activities.  A complete blueprint to the underworld as I have seen it.  This information would be invaluable to the police, Interpol and a handful of other organizations.  And only you can obtain it for them."  Loubar's devious smile was sickening.

    Rollie suddenly looked up to Angie, "Are you recording this?"  She nodded her head in assent.  Her own PDA had been recording since the moment he stepped on the pressure pad.  As she listened to the deranged soul speak, a rush of excitement coursed over her.  'If we can pull this off, imagine all the good that will come of it,' she thought.

    "Now, since I assume you will want to live, I must continue with the rules.  DA Delancy will remove his hand when the print scanner turns green.  You, Tyler, will replace it with your own.  Then, Mr. Delancy may leave at any time.  You, on the other hand, will have to remain on the pad until one of two things happens.  My riddle is answered correctly, or the timer runs down and you join so many other well meaning hero's.  Good Luck.  I'd hate for this game to end so soon."  As the screen shut down, the hand scanner turned green.

    DA Delancy looked at it, perplexed.  He slowly removed his hand and watched as Rollie Tyler placed his own down.  The scanner turned red and Delancy inhaled deeply.  Gently lifting his right foot, he stepped off the pressure pad.  Newly arrived police and his personal assistant, Susan McLendon, ushered him away.  But not before an unspoken word of thanks passed between himself and the mysterious Angie.  Passing out of the room and out of danger, Edwin took one last look at the stranger who saved his life, Rollie Tyler.

Chapter 7

    Angela Ramirez was wracking her brain, desperately trying to engineer a why out for Rollie.  She realized the mistake she made, taking the truck rather than the van.  It was a split second decision that may cost her Rollie.  Glancing around the room, she tried to slow her thoughts, all the while waiting for that hated voice to speak.

    "First off, we can replace your weight easily.  That isn't gonna be a problem.  But what can we do-"

    "Angie, stop.  There isn't anything we can do," Rollie spoke softly.  But it silenced Angie immediately.

    "Roland Tyler," she said gradually, "if you're giving up I will never forgive you."

    "Ang, I'm not giving up.  But I've thought this through, there isn't time.  For any of the-"

    With this, Mira appeared in a flurry of activity.  Buzzing around her like drones around a queen, were several uniform officers.  She barked out orders and made requests, demanded information about dozens of things.  ETA of the bomb squad, progress of evacuation and a dozen other life and death matters.

    "Rollie!  Holy Mary, Mother of God!  What did you do?" Mira cried.  Rollie sort of shrugged, almost grinning mischievously.

    "Mira, can you get a few things?"  Angie asked.

    "Ang, I already told you..." Rollie said.

    "Yeah, what are you planning?"  Mira snapped a finger at one of the uniforms, whipping him to attention.

    "Cables, pulleys, a winch and scale.  Also sandbags and... No, just send someone for the van, it's still packed from our last picture.  One of the stunts had a tug-line that should work perfectly."

    "There isn't anything we can do..." he tried again.

    "Okay, that's all for the pressure pad.  But what have you guys come up with for the hand scanner?" Mira continued.  The uniform was gone, presumably to retrieve the van.

    "Dammit!  Listen to me!"  Rollie roared.

    "Rollie, what is it?"  Angie turned to him, her eyes impatient.  Didn't he realize they only had minutes to get out of this?

    "Will you both.  Just.  Stop.  I've been through it all already.  Even if we spoofed the pad, what could we do about the hand scanner?  Loubar is going to be popping the question anytime, do you really believe he'll give us time to..." Rollie trailed off.

    "Rollie, give us time to what?  Hey, Rol!  We don't have time for-" Angie sputtered.

    "He's watching us," Rollie cut in.

    "What?"  Both women cried in shock.

    "He's watching us right now, somewhere, he's got a camera in here," Rollie was already glancing around the room.  Just then, the screen flared to life.

    "Well Tyler, I really shouldn't have left you waiting so long.  I guess you're chomping at the bit to hear this riddle."  Rollie glared at the screen and took a deep breath.

    In the meantime, Angie and Mira were scouring the room.  Searching for something, anything that could hide a camera and transmitter.  Aside from the conference table and chairs, there were a few potted plants and a bookshelf across one wall.  Windows filled a second wall and a mural was spread across the opposite.  The door and a small table filled the last.

    "I know that you pride yourself on thinking your way out of tight spots, so here's your chance to prove your metal."  As Loubar spoke, Rollie glared and Angie searched.

    Yanking books from the shelf and tossing them across the floor, Mira was having no luck.  She turned and noticed one volume had landed just inches from the pressure pad.  Swallowing, she avoided thinking about such a near miss.  Looking about the room again, she shook her head.  'There just wasn't anyplace it could be,' she thought, 'unless it's embedded in an outlet or fixture.'

    "This has been carefully tailored to you, Tyler.  So listen carefully.  'All men live beneath it, yet it is shaped by human hands.  Eternal, yet malleable in the minds of men.  Laying plain kings and making paupers grand.'  I'll expect an answer, in just two minutes."  And the screen went black.

    "He's gone completely insane.  What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  Mira was still anxious about being watched.

    "Oh, oh, I think I know," Angie cried suddenly.

    "Well, I'd appreciate any help," Rollie responded.  He looked at her carefully, when she told him he would insist she go outside.  With Mira here, she wouldn't be able to refuse.

    "What makes all men equal?" she asked.

    "Democracy?"  Mira responded flippantly.  Her eyes were drawn to the mural on the wall.  It was a majestic depiction of Justice, her sword at one side and the scales at the other.  Justice was blind.

    "No!  Death," she emphasized this last word heavily.  Hopefully, it would carry her anxious message.

    "Good one, Ang.  I'm afraid that it doesn't quite fit," Rollie responded carefully.

    "Whatta ya' mean- Oh, yeah.  Hands of men..." Angie was growing frantic.  Without an answer, Rollie would be- 'No!' she cried to herself.  'That wouldn't happen to him, too.'

    "Mira, do you think that-- Mira, what are you looking at?"  Rollie was craning his neck to see from his precarious position.

    Mira was, in fact, looking at Justice.  She didn't like the way the mural looked.  As beautiful as the work was, it spooked her.  She was practically ignoring the countdown, just staring at the mesmerizing image of Justice.  'Ironic that Loubar would pick this room to do this,' she thought, 'with her watching over it.'

    "The Law!  It's the law!  That's the answer, the law is made by man!  It's eternal, but can be changed.  And what's more, everyone must live beneath it, including kings," Mira cried out triumphantly.  Rollie raised his eyebrows and smiled.  This was good.

    "The law," he said simply.  Looking at the screen, he repeated the magic word.  Something wasn't' right.

    "What is it, Rol?" Angie asked.  For just a few moments, she had ceased her concern.  They had an answer with time to boil an egg.

    "I don't know how to give the answer, there isn't any controls and the screen is blank."  Rollie looked up to both Angie and Mira.  "The only way to know if it's been disarmed is to step off."

    "No!"  Again, both women cried out.  Rollie was so surprised he jumped, almost removing his hand from the scanner.

    "Don't do that!" he returned.

    "Rollie!  There isn't anytime left,"  Angie squealed.

    "Tyler, what about the camera?  You said he's watching, he must know we have it.  Shouldn't he send a shutdown code or something?"  Mira had turned from the mural after discovering the answer, but again turned back again.  Justice was eternal.

    "I don't know, maybe this isn't a bomb at all.  It could be popcorn for all we know, just something to scare us."

    "That'd be great," said Angie, "then we could just leave."

    "You're leaving anyway, Angela," Rollie said promptly.

    "Oh, for Chrissake!  We've been over-" argued Angie.

    "Let's go, Angie.  The man has a point."  Mira broke in.  She was already ushering Angie out as the last twenty seconds lapsed.

    "Angie!" Rollie cried out.  She turned, and for what could have been the last time.  He looked into her perfect blue eyes and said, "I love you, Ang."

Chapter 8

    No response came from Angie as members of the bomb squad had already dropped a kevlar blanket across the door frame.  Now, Rollie was alone.  The moments were passing all too quickly and he had no idea what to do.  Just how soon would the bomb detonate after he left the pad, a hundredth of a second?  a thousandth?  Could he make it out the window?  Could he survive the fall?

    Glaring at the screen, an idea sprung into his head.  Closing his eyes and relaxing his body, he spoke as clearly and steadily as he could manage.

    "We're alone now, Loubar," he said simply.

    "Yes, Tyler.  We are," retorted the sociopath on the flat screen.

    "Shut down the bomb, the answer is the 'law'."

    "Oh, I've ended the countdown.  I am a man of my word... on the rare occasion I actually give it.  No, the timer is off and you're free to remove your hand."  True to his word, the scanner turned green, then darkened.

    "So I'm free to leave?"  Rollie couldn't believe this vengeful man would allow his quarry to go so easily.

    "Of course.  But there is something you should know.  You don't get to keep the computer.  I thought answering a riddle was a little... simple for such a prize."  Loubar was smiling again, that sickeningly wry grin.

    "So much for a man of your word.  What's the catch?"  Rollie demanded, moving form the pad.

    "The 'catch', that's simple.  You have to open the box.  Think of it as a puzzle, like the Rubiks Cube.  Open it correctly, you win and get the computer.  Fail, and the bomb explodes after... let's say ten minutes."  Another smile.

    "I'm going to kill you," Rollie said simply.

    "We'll see, better get cracking.  It won't be as easy as you think."  And with a terrible laugh, the screen again went dark.

    Rollie immediately yanked all the cables from the metal container beneath the table.  It was a casing, but not a solid one.  Upon closer inspection, there were seams and what looked like panels.  Pulling it out from under the table, a cursory examination showed that the panels could be moved.  'Like a chinese puzzle box,' he thought.  'I hate chinese puzzle boxes.'

    His graceful fingers slipping over the cool surface of the metal, Rollie was soon manipulating the panels.  After just a few moments of silence, the police came barging through the draped door.  He was shoved aside and immediately they began to examine the casing.

    "You don't understand, I have to do it!  That's the rules!"  Rollie was frantic.  Loubar would see this.  He would detonate the bomb and they'd all die.

    "Sir, please!  Let us do our jobs.  You've been an enormous help, but we're professionals," responded one member of the bomb squad, pushing him away from the bomb.  They had fiber optic equipment and were peering inside the holes in the casing, intended to connect the sensors to the computer within.  Rollie glanced about the room, anxiously expecting the worst.  He received it.

    There was no warning.  The casing simply exploded, tossing the officers in their heavy kevlar suits about the room.  Rollie, back against the far wall and shielded by the heavy table, simply flinched with the sound and flash of light.  It wasn't until later that the gash in his side would be discovered.  The stunned man just watched as the floor was ripped to shreds along with several of the lesser protected officers.

    After picking himself up off the floor, Rollie surveyed the damage.  He noticed that a smaller box sitting amongst the carnage and chaos.  Medics flooded the room but Rollie's voice, which to him sounded muffled, rang out a warning to leave.  The room was again evacuated and Rollie stepped up to the bomb casing.  He examined it and found similar paneling, but the material was different.  It was far more durable than the metal of the outer casing.

    He almost didn't hear the voice speaking.  He wouldn't have if he hadn't noticed the lit screen.  Somehow, the black case on the table survived with only minor damage.  He approached it and looked on as Loubar spoke.  Straining to her what he said, Rollie soon realized he was still being watched.

    "They should have listened to you.  The inner casing is made of a durable Carbon/Silicate hybrid material, the directional prima chord wouldn't have set off the large charge within.  Still, they should have been more careful."  That hated face smiled again, this time it was a broad, toothy smile that spread across this whole face.  "At least they saved you time, I figure you should be through the internal casing in another five minutes.  That'll give you two whole minutes to disarm the explosives and remove the laptop.  Have fun, I know I am."

    Loubar's laugh pierced the muffle of Rollie's hearing and an anger seethed within him.  His fist smashed through the LCD screen and the strange gelatin that was pressed beneath the plastic surface oozed out.  He didn't notice the gash between his knuckles or the blood mixing with the liquid crystals on his fingers.  Instead, he hefted the two foot cube onto the table and began to work.

    Loubar had been right, Rollie made quick work of the ancient puzzle.  An ordinary man might have taken hours, maybe days.  Rollie had never been ordinary.  His mind worked ahead of his lithe fingers, only the slimy mix on his hands slowed the work.  Soon he pulled a panel off the top of the cube and the sides fell away simultaneously.  Rollie checked his watch, it read a little after eight.  He still had almost three minutes to disarm the bomb.

    It was more time than he really needed.  Special effects personnel that worked with explosives all needed to be certified, they needed to earn their licenses and take regular proficiency exams.  That and the desire to be competitive kept Rollie up to date.  He quickly determined the firing triggers, the command sequencer and the nature of all the wires running from the laptop to the large block of tan material.

    In truth, all Loubar needed was a single firing line.  The laptop could have been all the fail-safe he needed.  The odds anyone could have made it through the box in time, as well as his surveillance of the situation made the extra redundancies he found almost a disadvantage.  But Rollie had to admit, the device was a thing of beauty.  It would have detonated under a thousand different circumstances and only absolute obedience would have prevented it from doing so.

    Snipping the last wire, Rollie stepped away from the block with his prize in tow.  A computer with all the information Loubar had on the criminal underworld.  Leo would be proud.  A tear almost formed in Rollie's eye as the tension of the past hour and the relief that followed flooded him.

    The rush of activity, both from the media and police just washed over him.  Angie had clamped herself onto his side as soon as she had seen him.  In fact, she was the first to notice the blood seeping from a shrapnel wound under his left arm.  Rollie was treated, examined, questioned and interviewed.  The press had been kept at bay, but they demanded to know what was happening at the heart of City Hall.

    Rollie and Angie successfully made it away without being revealed.  And they quickly headed back to the loft.  The laptop could be examined later, the authorities had agreed to involve Angie.  Particularly since she revealed her pedigree.  Rollie was as surprised as the specialists from the FBI crime lab to hear her list of capabilities.  She was absolutely amazing.

    Rollie lounged happily on the long couch in the loft.  Angie was catering to him, hand and foot.  And he had to admit it was nice.  With a sardonic grin, he realized that it was the complete inverse of the mornings routine.  He had done all he could for her, cooking and catering to her whims.  He soon realized he enjoyed serving her as much or more than being served.

    Angie was carrying another tray of pudding, juice, treats and various unhealthy indulgences out to Rollie.  He watched as she moved with a grace and swiftness that awed him.  She was such an amazing human being.  A contradiction of contradictions, and yet, she was exactly what she appeared to be.  His head swam with thoughts of her.

    She put down the tray and was turning back to the kitchen for more when Rollie grabbed her hand.  He pulled her into his lap and smiled, warmly, gently.  She smiled back, with a gratitude he was very familiar with.  It was the same smile he greeted her with after her frigid brush with death.  It was the first smile she greeted him with after Manny's death and his consolation of her grief.

    Smiling back, Angie wrapped her arms around his neck and gently leaned into him.  Their heads grew close and eyes locked on one another.  Rollie could feel her breathing, the rise of her chest and caress of her breath.  She smelled sweet, despite the day's horrors and anxieties.  'God, what could I ever have done to deserve her,' Rollie asked himself.

    "Rollie, we have to talk about today..." she whispered into his ear.  Her words curling around his lobe and tickling the hair on his neck.

    "There isn't anything to say," Rollie said softly.  "I said what I did because I mean it.  I just wanted you to hear it, in case..."

    Angie quieted him with one finger, gently tracing his lips and pressing her head against his.  Temple to temple, they stayed like that forever.  With a slow languid movement, Angie drew back her head.  Rollie saw the same desire in her face that he felt in his own.  His eyes shut as their faces drew close and he anticipated the kiss with his whole being.  'It's finally time,' he told himself happily.

Chapter 9

    "I need a shower," Angie said.  She rolled out of Rollie's lap and strode quickly to the stairs.

    Rollie's eyes snapped open and he felt his body flush with aggravation and frustration.  He quickly stood and followed her up the stairs.  Just inside his bedroom, he grabbed one of her arms and spun her around.

    "You don't," was all he said, pulling her close.

    "Oh yes I do, I'm all dirty.  And I wanna get nice and clean," Angie replied coyly.  She batted her eyelashes and smiled.

    Rollie again lowered his head to kiss her, and she spun from his arms and barricaded herself in the bathroom.  Crying out in frustration, Rollie spun on his heels and shook his arms vainly in the air.  'So close!'  He had been so close, and she chose then to assert herself.

    "Women!" he cried out.

    Angie leaned against the door and sucked in her breath.  She giggled at Rollie's exclamation and felt butterflies in her stomach.  They had been about to kiss.  It was such a perfect moment, he was safe and they had beaten Loubar.  Everything had been so right.  Until she went and blew it all, just for a cheap thrill.

    'But the look on his face was priceless,' she thought.  Besides, she had been waiting for her entire adult life, she was used to it.  Thinking of her earlier self, the adolescent crush which had faded into a filial respect and love.  And then, the sudden awakening of feelings, they must have always been there, just below the surface.  It had scared her, she always knew Rollie was great guy but actually acknowledging her feelings, her desires...  It had taken a power outside herself to open the floodgates, she wasn't sure anything could close them again.

    Rollie was grouchily making tea and pacing about the loft when the shower turned on.  His mind turned to the sweet figure he knew and loved.  Without a conscious thought, he imagined her body beneath the spray.  Water rivuleting down the her gentle curves and soft skin.  He saw in his mind her body moving under the water, turning and stretching.

    Opening his eyes with a start, Rollie took a deep breath and steady himself.  His desire still present, he sought to bury his mind in the inanity of television.  He never watched, and yet his entertainment center was state-of-the-art.  It was expected of a guy like Rollie, his image was more of techno-cool than bookish intellect.  He wondered what Frank would say if he walked in on the macho Aussie leafing through "Blades of Grass".

    Smiling, Rollie reminded himself that he didn't read as often as he should.  And that sometimes, he was swept away by movies on television or in his own library.  Sipping his tea, Rollie flipped through one channel of mush after another.  It would be nice if there could be something smart on TV for once.  Something he could take an interest in.  Rollie laughed to himself, 'Yeah, like a show about me!'

    For the umpteenth time in the past few months, Rollie felt the urge to write.  He looked around and found one of the pads he had begun to leave about the loft.  He slowly sketched the idea of his, a show loosely based on his own exploits.  It wasn't the first such burst of creativity either.  He was suddenly filled with ideas for stories.

    'Maybe I should be a writer,' Rollie mused to himself.  He continued to scribble notes about the possibilities of the show.  He didn't see why not, it wasn't as though he wasn't creative.  And recently he had been having really sharp ideas for movies, television, action sequences and gags.  And what would be great is, he could write into the script F/X that would be challenging and fun.  For the first time, he could do the gags that rattled around in his head.

    "... and then you could quite the business and become a director," he scoffed to himself.

    "Whose going to be a director?"  Angie asked from halfway down the stairs.  Her head was currently wrapped in a towel and she once again wore the outrageously over-sized bathrobe.

    Pulling her head from the towel, her damp hair falling in every which way, she smiled.  He just watched her descend, like an angel from heaven.  Angie held the freshly scrubbed glow of a good shower, which complimented her natural glow nicely.  It was fascinating to watch as she cocked her head and spoke.

    "Earth to Rol, whose going to become a director?  You?" she smiled broadly.  The idea almost seemed comic, Rollie standing with a megaphone in one hand and riding crop in the other, wearing those ridiculous flared pants.  A laugh escaped her throat before she could stop it.

    "What?  You don't think I could do it?"  Rollie demanded.

    "That's not it Rollie, just, can you imagine yourself sitting on one of those folding chairs crying 'Lights, Camera, Action!'  You're not a director, you're an F/X artist.  The best, F/X artist," she said with affection evident in her face.

    "Thanks, sweets.  And no, I'm not going to be a director.  I was just-  Oh, nothing important," he sputtered.  What if he told her, she would want to read what he'd been writing.  Then she'd laugh at it, or wouldn't out of respect.  He wasn't ready for anyone to read what he was doing.

    "Fine, so we've managed to save City Hall and the District Attorney, what do you wanna do now?" she said, collapsing heavily into the couch.

    "We?  If I remember correctly, I, was the one disarming the bomb.  You, were off having coffee and donuts with Mira," he taunted.

    "After all the moral support, that's how you repay me?  Coffee and donuts!  Really," she scoffed.  Angie pulled her legs up underneath her and nestled into the bathrobe.  She appeared to be just a pile of cotton with a head.

    Rollie watched as her smooth, toned calves disappeared beneath the robe.  He reached out and took one of her hands.  Sliding closer, he saw this as an opportunity to re-ignite the earlier mood.  And this time there wouldn't be any escape.

    "Ang, I do appreciate your support.  Between work and, well, life, you're really the only stable thing I've got.  And that's why I don't want to lose you," he gently caressed her cheek with one finger.

    "I feel the same way," Angie kissed Rollie's finger and added, "is that Chamomile?  I'm gonna go make myself a cup."

    "Wha... there's already a... huh," Rollie stammered.  'What the hell just happened'

    As Angie walked into the kitchen, she fought the growing panic in her chest.  They were going to kiss, and soon.  But what if he didn't measure up to expectations.  She had fantasized about this moment her whole life.  Her hands shook as she poured the water and dipped the bag.  In the story books, everything would be happily ever after, but this was no fairy tale.

    Loubar was still loose, he had six more bombs in the city.  And Rollie couldn't resist saving the world, it's part of him.  He needs to help others, like some kind of compulsion.  She shivered, despite the warming comfort of Rollie's robe.  Things would be getting much worse, and the chance was always there that she'd lose him.  Or vice versa...

    Walking carefully back to the sofa, she found Rollie watching a report on the days events.  There was no mention of them, as they had hoped.  Still, a lot of questions needed answers that just didn't exist.  Sitting beside him and meekly drinking her tea, Angie could see the tension in his body.  'He probably thinks I don't want to be with him,' she thought miserably.

    "So with answers in short supply, we New Yorkers must be content with what we know for sure.  There were no fatalities, though a small explosive device detonated injuring several officers.  The larger bomb was disarmed successfully and this second attack in as many days was a failure.  Reporting live from City Hall, I'm Morgan Grant."

    Morgan sighed as the camera shut off and the anchor segued into the national news.  She was going to have to hustle.  This was a big break, they had been right here as everything went down and if she could crack open this story...  Big things.  Now all she needed was source.  Someone on the inside.

    Sergeant Chord Wheeler was sitting quietly in Midtown South Precinct, trying to ignore the havoc around him.  He was desperately trying to cram for the impending Lieutenant's exam.  If he could pass the first time, he'd make detective faster than anyone in the history of Midtown South.  Looking up from his books, he saw Frank Gatti and Mira Sanchez arguing at their desks.

    "The point!  What the hell do you mean what's the point?  We've got to find him," Frank cried.  He was worrying Chord, and apparently everyone else.  For the past couple of days, he'd been spending almost twenty hours a day working.  Chord knew that the bombing really got to him, but he was starting to flip out.

    "Frank, listen to me.  Sometimes you just have to wait.  We haven't got any leads and the search of the room has just begun.  Loubar 'ill get his, we'll make sure of that," Mira insisted.

    "Sanchez!  My office, Now!" VanDuran's voice echoed through the room.

    Chord watched as she took a final look at Frank before heading over to the Captain's office.  He sighed, this wasn't getting him anywhere.  He couldn't study with so much going on, and there were only two weeks to the exam.  Gathering his books and case files, Chord stood and headed down to records.  It was always quiet down there.  Maybe he could think clearly.

    Watching Chord, Burgstrom checked his watch and made a few notes in his notebook.  He turned to one of his agents, whispering in his ear.  The agent punched a few keys on his PDA and showed the Rude Man the Justice Departments file on Chord Wheeler.  Rupert found it interesting reading, very interesting in fact.

Chapter 10

    Silently, it was raised.  The rig had been waiting on the rooftops of several buildings for more than a month.  Sliding the cylinder into place, the device was attached to the wires and released.  For a brief moment it fell, then the motors kicked in and the object rose into the night sky.  Suspended by four cables, it hung over the bustling streets.  Twelve stories down, the city went on its merry way.

    "Dammit, I don't care what excuse you have.  I can't have you working beyond our jurisdiction anymore," Captain Marvin VanDuran cried.  The argument had been raging for the past ten minutes.

    "So I'm supposed to what, come all the way back here, fill out a report, send it to Inter-Office Affairs, notify the other precinct of the situation and then hope they get there before the bomb destroys half of City Hall!"  Mira refused to budge.  She knew she was right.

    "Mira, you know you're the best I've got.  You and Gatti are invaluable to this department.  But there are rules and there are reg's and you have crossed them once too often.  If it was my choice, you could run throughout the five boroughs," he said.  "But things aren't run that way.  Now please, I need you to stay central.  Stick to business and not go gallivanting off whenever you feel the urge.  Can you do that?  Can you?"

    "Captain, I'll stick to my roots.  Me and Gatti, we'll hang out inside the lines and I promise to play fair.  But, there is something you need to understand.  Not everything is like the Telecom bust in Battery, sometimes there just isn't time to collaborate with another precinct.  So, if there are lives at stake," Mira paused for emphasis, "I'm gonna do whatever the Hell I have too."

    Without giving him a chance, she stormed from the office and out of the precinct all together.  Frank saw her moving and fought to catch up.  Her coat in one hand, a few loose files in the other, he caught her just outside.

    "Hang on there, partner," Frank said, handing her the coat.  "What got you so hot under the collar?"

    "The Cap... He's pissed that we went out of bounds.  God Dammit!"  She was frustrated and upset.  "Doesn't he understand, lives were at stake?"

    "Hey, Palmira," Mira looked up at the use of her full name.  Frank was reaching out his hand.  She hesitantly took it.  "We've done good, we've done the best we could."

    Mira noticed the look in his eyes.  He was saying it as much to hear it himself as for her.  It was a question more than anything else.  She suddenly understood, he needed to be reassured that he was doing right.  That he'd done everything in his power and wasn't responsible.

    "I know, Frank," Mira said carefully, "it's getting late.  Why don't you go home to your wife and kids.  Enjoy your family."  She smiled, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

    Frank nodded, the heavy load he carried slumping his shoulders.  He smiled to her one last time, those dark eyes flashing with a glimpse of the old Frank Gatti.  Then, he disappeared into the darkness of the breezy, crisp night.  Mira pulled her light coat around herself and headed back to her place, alone.

    Morgan Grant was excited.  No, she was beyond excited, she was giddy.  God, she hadn't been giddy since she was twelve and first decided she would be a reporter.  Looking around the parking garage, she giggled.  'Just like Woodburn and Burdstein,' she thought.  'Wait, that doesn't sound right.'  Shaking off her mangled thoughts, she concentrated on the meeting.

    The voice on the line had called itself, 'White Man', whatever that meant.  She had almost not understood why he/she/it had contacted her.  In truth, she knew her own conceit was blinding her to that.  Ambition was dangerous, but it could be useful if properly directed.

    The lights suddenly died, the parking structure being left in the dark.  Morgan leapt into action, she turned on the flashlight.  Cursing, the white light flood the cement structure.  She quickly shut if off and fumbled with the red filter.  Finally snapping it into place, she turned it on and watched as the cavernous structure was cast in an erie red glow.

    Just as Morgan was beginning to regret her hasty decision to come, a figure appeared.  She assumed it was WM, but couldn't really be sure.  'Maybe it was just some rapist out for a stroll.'  Deciding that it might well be both, the beautiful asiatic woman shut off the light and whipped out her MACE.  She wouldn't go down without a fight.

    "Mrs. Grant, my instructions were for you too keep the light on, through the entire interview," the figure said.

    "You're him... er, the White Man?" she clutched the spray tightly while flipping the MagLite on.

    Again the garage was filled with red light, but the figure had not grown any closer.  He, it was clearly a man's voice, stood about twenty feet from her, bathed in the weak glow of the filtered flashlight.  She couldn't make out any facial features and his clothing was too dark to make sense.  She thought it was a suit with an overcoat, but couldn't be sure.

    "I am an agent for him, yes.  You will not meet him directly.  I am to assure you that this information is correct.  I am also to warn you that releasing it may endanger your life or the lives of those involved," he said succinctly.  On occasion she could see the flash of teeth, but nothing else.

    "So, tell me.  Just who was it that disarmed that bomb, and why is it being kept a secret?"

    Rollie Tyler sat watching her as she slept.  An unspoken agreement had been made, Angie would stay until Loubar was dealt with.  Tomorrow morning, they would go together to collect her things and Chiopes.  Then, she would be sleeping in his bed and he would have a cot, brought out of storage.  It was familiar too him, during a renovation of the loft a few years back he had slept in it for months.

    At first she had objected, the warm-hearted person she was.  But it made sense.  He slept so little, the comfortable bed was wasted on him.  She would use it a good three hours more than he, besides it was only chivalrous.  A man should never allow a lady to sleep in anything but the most pleasant arrangements available.

    Her young face was at peace while she slept.  And Rollie was warmed by her delicate features.  When awake, her face hide so much but sleep let it all go.  The near death experiences, the bombs and the corpses.  Even... even Loubar.  It all just faded from her features, leaving her delicate, innocent self.  There was still a lot of little girl in her, mischievous and secretive.  He hoped those last little fragments of her turbulent childhood could survive this ordeal.  He would do everything he could to protect them.

    Risking disturbing her sleep, Rollie softly brushed her cheek.  With every touch, he felt a flood of feelings.  How long had it taken?  Had he never seen her for what she was, his destiny?  He wracked his brain, searching for the moment she had stopped being his adopted little sister and became the object of his affection.  It didn't track.

    With a hushed sigh, he stood and went downstairs to the cot.  It was set up beneath the stairs, near the garage.  He heard her turn in his bed and another smile crossed his face.  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself the fantasy forming in his mind.  Laying out on the thin mattress and firm springs, he could almost feel her in his arms.

    Then, she was.  He felt her breath against his body and her hands on his chest.  Wrapping his arms around her small frame, she melted into him.  He felt her lips, working their way up his neck.  He lowered his face, eyes still closed and pressed his too her own.  The kiss dragged on, sucking oxygen and strength.  He felt her move against him and he rolled onto his side.

    Their limbs rubbed against each other and he felt her clothing fall free.  Pressing against her, she moaned with desire.  His hands played across her body and reveled in the supple flesh.  She fit him so perfectly.  It was divine, wishing the moment could last forever.  Breaking the kiss, he rubbed his face in her scalp and inhaled her scent.

    The moved across each other like animals.  Satisfying what had built within them for weeks, months, years.  Their desire pushing them.  Rollie could feel her urgency as much as his own.  When they joined, he felt complete.  He groaned, his body tensing and feeling her own do likewise.  Their lovemaking was at its peak and he still had not opened his eyes.  Wishing to see her perfect blue eyes at the moment of his release, he held her head and opened his lids.  Then he screamed.

Chapter 11

    He was engulfed in the darkness.  Terror filled him and he struggled for freedom.  His scream had died in his throat, being swallowed by the blackness that enveloped him.  Opening his eyes, he found only darkness.  The sounds of lovemaking were silenced and his fear cut through the desire.  When his mouth opened, the sound died on his tongue and his throat was filled.

    It was the Darkness.  It had come before, but Rollie had eluded it with thoughts of Angie.  This time, he was defenseless.  Wrapped in the blackness, sucked into despair and with no hope remaining, Rollie whispered her name.

    Angie awoke with a start.  The loft was flooded with the morning sun and she found the her pulse slowing.  The dream she had been immersed in was the most terrifying since childhood.  Pulling away the the covers, she slid from bed and began her morning routine.  She shivered softly, unpleasant memories of the previous night washing over her.

    It had begun strangely enough, she had been rollerblading down Wall Street wearing a cape.  The long, purple cloth flapping in the wind.  When she came to a stop, the cape wrapped around her and when it opened she was miles above the city.  Then she fell, the fall was without fear or trepidation, almost like she were gliding.  As the ground grew closer impossibly fast, she recognized the loft.

    It looked so strange, covered in green with a smaller structure on the roof.  Her decent slowed and she swept down Brewery Lane through the big open doors.  The inside of the loft was as unusual as the exterior.  It extended deeper into the brewery and was divided several times over.  The workshop was more expansive, but her clean room and the VR chamber were in the same places.  The bedroom was now completely closed, however she passed through the wide door to find a cozy master bedroom.  On the large mattress lay a bare Rollie.

    She drifted over him and gently lowered upon his dozing form.  As their bodies met, her heart rate doubled.  She had felt so completely at peace, moving over his body.  Their lovemaking like none other in her experience.  It was full and complete, so passionate but with a tenderness only Rollie possessed.

    And then the blissful dream became a nightmare.  She felt the Darkness, a wraith inhabiting her dreams like a predator.  It had enveloped her, not even the Light could break through.  Before, thoughts of Rollie would draw her from the clutches of either phantom.  But this was different, it was an experience she had never known.  Complete helplessness.

    She could feel her strength and vitality draining away.  The voice that had called her back before was silent.  She was alone and it terrified her.  Without the strength to cry out, she had simply fell back into the Darkness that hounded her sleep.  Now, as escape was impossible, she heard it whispering to her in a language she couldn't understand.

    The alarm blaring cut through her sleep like a fog.  All the inky black of her dreams seeped away and she found herself waking to the loft she recognized.  For a few moments, she had simply stared at the brightening sky, refusing to let the light growing about her go.  Even blinking was too long to be separated from the glorious glow.

    As the memories of the dream faded, and the morning's light grew, Angie was relieved.  It had been terrifying, although, once she ceased her struggles the voice of the Darkness almost welcomed her.  She finished her shower and stepped out into the golden glow of a New York spring day.  Yawning, she padded downstairs to make herself and Rollie some breakfast.

    As she passed over his bed, it occurred to her that Rollie was still asleep.  It was rare for him to make it through a full night.  She smiled, I won't wake him.  He needs the sleep.  In the kitchen, she whipped up some pancake batter and opened a frozen package of bacon.  Rollie was a sporadic shopper, usually it fell to her to fill the pantry or the Aussie would go hungry.

    Looking about at her domestic situation, she smiled.  Cooking breakfast for her man, she began to whistle an old folk song her father would sing around the set.  The nightmare was already gone from her mind, but the source of her fears would remain.  It would remain until she and Rollie fought it together.

    Chord Wheeler's mind was reeling.  The previous night had lead him to several revelations that were shaking his world to the foundation.  His career as a police officer, his friends and his goals for the future.  Everything was effected by that conversation with Rupert Burgstrom.

    He had been working diligently in the records room for almost an hour when the silence was broken by a polite clearing of the throat.  Looking up, he noticed the Justice Department official standing before him with several of his suits watching the door.  Looking around, he noticed with no small amount of concern that they were now alone.

    "Can I help you?" he offered.  For a brief moment, Chord felt like he was being muscled in a mafia movie.

    "Yes, you can," smiled the strange federal officer, "but that isn't what I'm here to discuss.  I understand you are hoping to become a detective within the month.  It would be quiet a coup for your career, and a record I believe."

    Chord watched the man suspiciously.  This could quickly become a bad situation, he would have to be extremely careful.  Despite himself, he found his pulse quickening.  'What?  You expect them to attack,' he asked himself, 'their feds, not crooks.'

    "Yes, actually.  That's what I'm studying for now," Chord mentioned.  He was hoping the subtle hint would allow him to withdraw.  Already, he saw the advantages held by the Rude Man.  He knew about Chord, probably a great deal about him.  'And yet, I know nothing about him.'

    "What if I could assure you of your place in history?" Burgstrom intoned.  He was watching the young man carefully.  He obviously had a great deal of integrity, which would make the acquisition a great deal more difficult.

    "If you're implying what I believe you are, I will say goodnight to you."  Chord stood and began to collect his things.

    "I'm only curious as to whether you've put any thought past that exam.  Have you?  Becoming a detective is one thing, but becoming an outstanding detective is another.  You will need allies," Burgstrom said.  He placed a hand tentatively on Chord's shoulder.

    Chord had slowed his retreat.  Looking into the steel grey eyes of Rupert Burgstrom, he found a great deal of curiosity build within him.  'What could he mean?  How useful would he be as a contact?'  He looked at Burgstrom and smiled.

    "And you would be one of them?"

    "Oh, yes.  You've had a fantastic career so far.  An highly decorated fireman, a short stint in the Arson unit before entering the academy.  Then, your meteoric climb through the ranks.  It has taken you a few years to do what some fail to in a lifetime.  You are just moments from becoming a Lieutenant Detective in the New York Police Department."  Rupert smiled his warmest and most sincere smile, one he had practiced all his life.

    "Your point?" Chord was becoming impatient.

    "You agree to listen to my entire offer and I assure you, it will be embarrassingly obvious."  Again, Rupert smiled that sincere smile.

    Shaking his head, Chord sighed.  This would be an important decision.  It could shape everything to come.  Even the morning after, Chord could hardly believe it.  Agent Burgstrom had spoken clearly and succinctly.  It would be a difficult decision.  And one that he needed to make soon.

    Mira yawned, stretching in her bed.  She had overslept and was on her way to being late for work.  Her first thoughts were of her partner.  He was such a good man, why he was being hit so hard baffled her.  She had worked with some real tough guys, her ex was one of them.  And none of them, for all their bravado and chest thumping, could match Gatti's tenacity, skill or empathy.

    She climbed out of bed and hurried about showering and brushing.  She would get something to eat on the way.  As she dressed, she was hit by a strange sensation of loneliness.  Looking about her apartment, she felt like a spinster.  Catching her reflection, she could see the years of police work catching up.  Mira wished she owned a pet at that moment, something that could at the very least make some noise.

    Climbing in her car, she immediately heard the call for all available units.  'Breakfast will have to wait,' she thought.  Peeling off down the street, Mira found the first flush of adrenaline hit her bloodstream.  The dispatcher announced the site as suspected bombing location.  Her blood ran cold as she careened through traffic, Loubar's next toy.

    Angie answered the phone and was surprised to hear Mira barking out an address and a warning.  She shuddered as the words 'bomb' and 'Loubar' spilt through the receiver.  'Rollie,' she thought, 'he's gonna get mixed up in all this.'  Looking to the cot beneath the stairs, Angie felt tears rise behind her eyes.

    Calling out his name, Angie moved toward the tangled figure on the cot.  She smiled, noticing his clothing was only half shed.  Calling his name a little louder, Angie expected him to wake.  'He was usually such a light sleeper.'  Carefully, she tried to waken him.

    Rollie bolted upright in the cot, smacking his forehead against the metal of the staircase.  He winced and held his head gently in one hand.  'What was happening?' he thought to himself.  He looked around with terror in his eyes and saw.  He saw the workshop, he saw light and himself.  He could see again, the darkness that enveloped him was gone.  Then, he saw what had brought him out of his stupor.

    Angie knelt quietly by the cot, her hand still laying on Rollie's shoulder.  She had jostled him when he hadn't responded.  Noticing the erratic movement of his eyes beneath their lids, she surmised he was deeply asleep.  And as much as it pained her, she woke him so he could take the call from Mira.  She had not been prepared for the frantic, almost desperate behavior that greeted her.  'But the hug was nice,' she thought.

    Rollie had clung to her for almost a minute before a muffled voice calling his name broke through.  He took the phone from Angie, smiling sheepishly and watching as she gracefully moved to the kitchen.  'What a woman!' he thought, still not listening to Mira on the line.  When he did hear her speak, it was like a bucket of ice water in the crotch.  Loubar's bomb was waiting for him.

Chapter 12

    Rollie pulled on a black shirt and grabbed a set of hand tools from his workbench. Angie was starting the van as he darted about, dressing and collecting any tools they might need. Mira had sketched the scene to him over the phone and it didn't sound good.

    "Ang, be sure you grab the EM scanner," he called out. The engine turned over and he heard her response. Climbing into the van, Rollie looked at Angie. She glanced over, shook her head and climbed out of the drivers seat.

    "Men," she muttered, dragging the tool kit he had brought into the back.

    Before she could sit, the F/X van lurched forward, sending her sprawling to the floor. And as she tried to right herself, the van started a hair raising series of quick turns and accelerations. Rollie was using his considerable skill behind the wheel to push the vehicle beyond its limits. Angie climbed into her seat and wondered how many times they'd end up careening through the streets of New York.

    Mira checked her watch and paced at the road block. Looking up, she could see the outline of the apparatus high above the street. They had cleared the block and and evacuated the buildings, but the message phoned into 911 early this morning had been very explicit about what it was. If the bomb detonated, the entire island of Manhattan could be in danger.

    Again checking her watch, she prayed Rollie could get here in time. Clenching her fists, she cursed to herself. There was nothing she could do, nothing anyone could do but wait. Their lives were in the hands of the most effective killer in the history of New York, possibly the world. Sucking in a breath, she flinched as the sound of screeching tires split the air.

    Turning, she saw the F/X van crash through the barricades cutting off traffic. The rear door crashed open and Rollie leapt from the van. Behind him, moving slower and carrying several large cases was Angie. Mira shook her head, 'What a pair.'

    "How long, Mira?" Rollie asked.

    "We were notified at about seven fifty this morning. The message was fed to a 911 operator from a scrambled satellite phone connection. He explained the 'rules', of this particular bomb," Mira said as she lead him to the entrance of an apartment building.

    "Which are?" Angie asked tersely, dropping the heavy cases at Rollie's feet. He fired a look at her and then blushed slightly.

    "Sorry, Ang. I was jus-" Rollie began.

    "A package of high explosives is suspended by four cables from the roofs of these buildings. He claims the device has an precise altimeter and motion sensor system. Any movement will detonate it," Mira explained.

    "Okay, so can we get a look at the-" Rollie began again.

    "There's one more catch," Mira added. "There's a canister of Soman nerve agent. It's extremely persistent and twice as lethal as the Sarin gas used in Japan. Um, it's also resistant to many of the treatment options available, so atropine won't work."

    Rollie just looked at her. He glanced at Angie and then up at the device, dangling over the street.  Taking a deep breath he looked back at Mira. Sighing, he lifted several of the larger cases and entered the building.  Angie looked from Mira to the disappearing Rollie and followed.  Shaking her head, Mira just followed the two into the building and up to the roof.

    "What the hell am I doing here, Ang?" Rollie exclaimed, bursting through the heavy door at the top of the apartment building.

    "Rollie wait up!" Angie cried out. The door shut in her face and she opened it to find Rollie pacing back and forth, strapping on a harness.

    "He wants me to play these games, and I keep doing it. He won't stop until I'm dead. And every time he shows up, I do exactly what he expects. Bloody Hell!" Rollie ranted. He's nimble fingers had made a mess of the intricate lace of clips and canvas that make up the Hang Time harness.

    "Rollie, please just calm down. If you panic, you'll make mistakes," she cooed. Her hands ran over the harness, straightening the clips and tightening the redundancy systems. Rollie stood stock still, Angie hunched over before him setting the safety systems. He breathed deeply and calmed himself.  Reaching out with his right hand, he gently set it on her head.

    Angie looked up and smiled hesitantly. She took his hand and brushed it across her face, then turned her back and opened the large cases before her. Watching her work, he sighed. Soon he joined her and unpacked the gear. The plan was simple, a line would be stretched across the avenue, parallel to the device. Then, Rollie would slide across and disarm the device, capture the laptop and live happily ever after. If, of course, everything went as planned.

    While Angie put together the motor and cable system, Rollie loaded a line and ball into a rifle. The ball would carry the line across the way to the roof of the building opposite. There, several officers were also assembling a far simpler cable anchor. The two systems in conjunction would provide Angie with a great deal of control of Rollie's position. Also, a second security line would span the distance and provide a afety net for the F/X artist turned action hero.

    "Ya know what I 'ate most 'bout this stuff?" Rollie slurred in his thickening accent.

    "What's that Rol?" Angie asked, gently patting his shoulder.

    "Danglin' 'undreds o' feet above the street, disarmin' that bomb and 'specting the gas ta leak an' kill me right quick," he kidded. Angie rolled her eyes and triple checked his harness. Looking back to the door, she saw Mira and Frank speaking heatedly.

    "I wonder what their spouting about," Angie inquired out loud.

    "Frank just stop! Even if it was him, you can't just parade down there and pick him up. You could be killed!" Mira was anxious, she was coordinating this whole fiasco and if Frank went off half cocked he'd have no backup.

    "Mira, we have him. The tip is good and I'm telling you we can get him! Now, I'm going down to the docks. Either you send some of those goons under you..." Frank just trailed off, the fire in his eyes speaking for him.

    "I can't do that, Frank. They're needed here." Mira then turned and breathed deeply as he stormed off the roof and out of sight.

    "Everything okay?" Rollie asked, strapping on a tool vest. He attached pliers and screwdrivers to it with velcro and various other gizmo's by wire.

    "Frank just got a tip on Loubar's location," Mira gushed. "He wanted some of the officers dedicated to me but I just can't spare them."

    "Loubar! Where?" Rollie started toward the door but the line snapped him back to the edge of the roof.

    "Rollie! You have work to do. As for Frank, I'll call the Captain and get him some help. Just get that nerve gas," Mira cried. She whipped out her cell phone and dialed, walking away from the two.

    "I hope he plugs the bloody bastard!" Rollie muttered, finishing the preparations.

    "Rollie..." Angie whispered. Rollie looked up at her and smiled guardedly. "Be careful."

    "Love, I'm not about to get myself killed when I'm so close to what I want," Rollie replied. Angie's eyes widened and she was about to say more when Rollie rolled backwards off the roof.

    His fall was brief and swiftly the cables carried him out between the buildings. Over his earpiece, he heard Angie curse under her breath. Smiling to himself, he used the PDA strapped to his arm to maneuver over to the bomb. As it drew closer, he could make out the details of the device. And it was a doozie.

    Frank drove toward the docks muttering to himself. Mira was being as obstinate as ever and Loubar was slipping through his fingers. Since the bomb blast, only two thoughts passed through Detective Gatti's mind. Finding Loubar and splitting his skull. It was an anger he hadn't felt before, one he hoped he would never feel again.

    Seeing that little girl, it crushed his spirit. Every time his eyes closed, her ghostly shape haunted him, crying out for vengeance. He knew something few others did, that only the blood of their killer would appease the victims. Franks felt that weight acutely, his duty as a cop and responsibility as a Human at odds. The law called for justice, the soul for blood. Which was more righteous? Which held salvation? For the first time in a long time, Frank felt a genuine crisis of faith.

    As he closed on the quiet fishing pier his source had named, Frank felt trepidation fill his gut.  Maybe he did need backup, it could be a setup. He might end up the next victim, with no one to end this madness. Parking up the street from the condemned storefront, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. 'This might change everything,' he thought. Then, he stepped out into the street and walked toward the dark building.

    Rollie was faced with quite a dilemma. Before him sat a peculiar device, built within a steel crate.  From the four upper corners, cables attached to some electronic device lead off to either side of the street. He could make out small explosives attached to the joint, obviously meant to detonate and drop the bomb. Redundancies on redundancies.

    The laptop was sitting at the bottom of the device, snug within a docking station that connected it to the explosives. A black container about the size of a shoe box was above it, sitting next to a block of grey materiel that could only be the explosives. What was alarming was the canister resting at the top of the crate. It was a cylinder about a foot in length and six inches in diameter. On its side were the warnings and decals of an extremely dangerous substance. It was the nerve agent, and it was fastened by a magnetic lock system. At least, that's what Loubar was telling him from the flat screen display attached to the apparatus.

Chapter 13

    Angie stood with baited breath.  Her fingers were poised over the Ambler, ready to set of the charge that would shear the primary line and send Rollie swinging out of harms way.  She was prepared, like any other tense moment.  Her time with Tyler F/X, both at work and at "play", kept her nerves steady and her reflexes sharp.

    She watched and listened as Rollie received his instructions from Loubar.  It would be an interesting morning.  The bomb casing contained a gyroscope system, the internal mechanism needed to be manipulated just right to lower the device.  Only if it descended automatically would the detonation sequence be deactivated.

    Sighing, she set about creating a computer model of the gyroscope system.  She was just throwing it together, but with the Ambler she would be able to create a semi accurate system.  Even if it didn't look slick, it would feed her the numbers precisely.  A small wire frame model began to appear, nothing more complicated than a box with vector lines emanating from within.  The real complexity of the model was in the equations of behavior.

    She programmed the system with the basic aspects of gravity, created a three dimensional plane for it to exist within and defined the nature of the gyroscopes.  Once it behaved properly, she would be able to run simulations and feed Rollie the best sequence of manipulation.  She hoped.

    Rollie was breathing deeply, trying to stay the fear within him.  For all the tight situations he'd been in, this was pretty bad.  Not just that his life was at stake, or even dear Angie's.  The entire island of Manhattan could be contaminated by the nerve toxin.  Swaying from the wind, he watched the canister of death closely.

    Swiveling in the harness, he had modified it so much the original designers wouldn't really recognize it, he spun and look over at Angela.  She was diligently forming a computer model of the bomb.  Hopefully, it would help him manipulate the gyroscope so the device could descend safely.  Then, it would be up to the bomb squad downstairs.

    The bomb Loubar had cooked up was clever.  As clever as the "Chinese Puzzle Box" at City Hall.  He thought about the Primacord booby trap and eyed this new device warily.  There must be some kind of security device to ensure Rollie was the one to disarm the bomb.  That was part of this sick game.

    Loubar hadn't mentioned one, though.  He had said explicitly that the device was extremely sensitive to altitude and seismic sensation.  That the gyroscopes were unaligned and that the only way to safely disarm the device was to adjust them properly.  Unfortunately, Rollie had no idea how to do that.  That's where Angie came in.

    "Ang..." Rollie whispered.

    "Hang on, Rol.  I've almost completed forming the stats," Angie replied, absorbed in her work.  "With that done, I'll just have to adjust the internals of the simulation."

    "Angie, I just need to know something."

    "Rollie, can't it wait?"  Angie was afraid this would become the touching final moment for them.  Like in so many of the movies they had made, the hero saying good-bye just before sacrificing himself.

    "No, I have to know...  Did you remember to send off those UPC's?"  Rollie asked.

    Angie laughed so hard, Mira was worried she'd collapse.  She laughed because she had forgotten.  Rollie had been saving the proofs of purchase on his cereal boxes for the past two months.  He wanted to win some special addition robotic dragon.  It was supposed to be a very advanced toy, collector's item kind of thing.  She giggled as she continued to work on the model.

    Rollie smiled, 'Good.'  He had wanted to relax her a little, to keep her focused and ease some tension.  And besides, he really wanted that Morty the Dragon doll.  It might seem childish to everyone else, but it was just one of those things that attracted his attention.  He thought about what Angie had told him, that he was just a big kid.  Smiling, he liked that idea.

    Chord Wheeler shook his head.  He was heading to the bomb site with a lot of information for Mira and Rollie.  Things had been discovered overnight, lots of things.  Fi