Stefan drove slowly. He'd, for years, heard of Rollie Tyler, and how'd he'd destroyed their family. He'd spent his life glancing over his shoulder, expecting the man to be lurking around a corner. They'd changed their names a dozen times, moved more than he could remember, always on the run. Over the course of their fleeing their pursuers, hired by Tyler, he'd been forced to kill. He'd hated it. Strangely, his father had been proud of him when he'd done so, so he'd never showed his revulsion.
He always put on a straight face for his father, his father would never accept any less. But, this, this that he wanted him to do now. Why? It was sick, sick beyond belief. His father had taught him many things, taught him to survive, and he loved his father. But, yet, sometimes, he wondered. He wondered if his father was unbalanced. For brief times, when his father had allowed him to associate with others, he'd seen a difference. He wondered if there was another life out there. Another way of living.
But he could not turn against his father. He could not betray him. It simply wasn't in him, he would be loyal to the end, follow and assist in his fathers dangerous doings because he loved him, and his mother whom he'd never seen. If only there was another way.
Victor sat thinking. Tyler was, most likely, fighting his way out of the drug's control. He would have to pay him a visit.
Victor smiled slightly, went to a suitcase and pulled out a vial and syringe. He raised the needle to his eyes, squirting out the tiny bit of liquid left over. Victor's eyes glazed over slightly, unfocusing. He spun around.
"Who's there?!" he called, whipping out his gun.
He moved forward slowly, and threw open the door. No one was there. He was certain he had heard a noise. A door closing, a voice.
Victor frowned and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Shaking slightly, he went back to his briefcase, and pulled out a small bottle of white pills. He took two out and went to the dingy bathroom, filling a small paper cup full of water and downing the pills. He stood staring in the cracked mirror, leaning with both hands on the sink, for a moment. There were bags under his eyes, and his pulled on them, checking the whites of his eyes. He opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue. He turned slowly, looking at himself from different angles.
Victor took a deep breath, and winced as a pain cut through his side. He stretched, shivered again slightly, and left.
"Commish," an officer said as they passed.
Brian nodded at him once, and kept walking, Wally at his side.
"I can't believe this is working," Wally whispered out of the side of his mouth, smiling at a pretty paper pusher typing at a desk.
"Just shut up and walk," Brian whispered back.
"The main computer terminal is just up ahead," Wally said, "it's hooked into the city network, as well as the federal crime network, and Interpol's international crime watch network."
"Good," Brian said.
"But it's password protected," Wally said, "various levels of access, from 5 which is the lowest, to 1."
"So we get level one access," Brian said, "no problem, piece of cake."
"Piece of cake he says," Wally muttered, "right."
They arrived at the large, flatscreen computer terminal which sat inset into the wall.
"Computer activate," Wally said softly, glancing over his shoulder as officers walked by.
The logo of the NYPD disappeared, replaced by a listing of choices. Brian reached into his pocket and inserted a microCD into a slot in the wall. The terminal hummed slightly for a moment, and a small message appeared that read "Decryption in progress" in blinking red letters.
Wally shifted slightly to block anyone's view of the screen.
"Will you please hurry up," he muttered, glancing around nervously.
"Will you please calm down," Brian said, "and try and look like you're supposed to be here."
"Easy for you to say," Wally said, "couldn't you have done me up to look like the President or something?"
"Right," Brian said, "it'd be easy to make you look like an African American woman."
The message stopped blinking. It now read: 'Temporary Access Attained. You have 5:00 minutes."
The five minutes immediately started counting down.
"Ok," Brian said, "here goes."
"Computer," he said, only loud enough for the reciever to pick up, "activate criminal archives."
The screen switched immediately to a large listing of names, sorted alphabetically.
"Search, Loubar," Brian said, "first name, Victor."
The computer hummed for a moment, then the file on Loubar was pulled up. A computer generated sketch was all that was available for a photo.
"They never snapped a picture of the guy?" Wally said.
"Never caught him," Brian said, reading down quickly, "but he sure was wanted for a lot of things. The feds were all over him for a long time."
"And your Dad got involved?" Wally said, "Pretty heavy guy to go after."
Brian's shoulder's dropped a bit.
"Yeah," he muttered as he read.
"Computer," he said straightening up again, "show known accomplices and acquantances."
A list of around two dozen names popped up.
"Cross link with current crime directory," Brian said, "and show all those still living in the New York area."
The list switched to one of three names.
"Show current locations of each," Brian said.
"Higher level access required," scrolled across the screen.
Brian swore softly and popped another CD into a second slot on the wall, just under the first. A keyboard appeared on the screen and Brian placed his hands on it, typing furiously.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," Wally said, eyeing both the officers around and the timer counting down, "what happens when that timer hits zero?"
"If we're not out of the system," Brian said, still typing against the monitor, "the computers security protocols are activated."
"And-" Wally said.
"And an alarm goes off," Brian said, "and we get caught, so shut up and let me work."
Wally grimaced and shifted again to block Brian. Windows flew back and forth across the screen as he bypassed security locks and firewalls. The timer quickly ran down to one minute.
"You've got a minute," Wally whispered.
"I see that," Brian said.
Brian punched in a few keystrokes quickly, and another message scrolled across the screen. "Security Clearance Accepted."
The clock rolled down to forty seconds.
"Computer show current addresses," Brian said quickly.
Another message, 'Working', blinked on the screen.
"Come on, come on," Wally said.
Three addresses popped up.
"Fifteen!" Wally said through gritted teeth.
"Send to printer along with map," Brian said.
The computer hummed agreeably and Brian pulled both CD's out of the drives. He logged off the system just as the countdown hit one second. He turned and smiled at Wally.
"See," he said, "piece of cake."
"How you doin' Carl?"
Carl 'The Weasel' Hinkleman spun around, his pale, bald head reflecting a bit of the dingy light above him, and his pinched features registering shock.
"Gatti!" he sputtered in a whiny voice, "Uh, I mean, who are you, what do you-"
"Stow it," Francis said.
The three men playing cards with him glanced at each other.
"We need to talk," Francis said, pulling Carl up by his collar.
"Hey man," he whined, "hold on! I-I'm playin' card here-"
"You fold," Francis said, dragging him away from the table.
They rounded the corner and Carl squirmed away, Francis shoved him up against the wall.
"You tryin' to get me killed or somethin' man?" Carl said, "If I'm seen talkin' with a cop-"
"Save it," Francis said, holding up a fifty dollar bill, "you still have your little drinking habit?"
Carl licked his lips slightly, staring at the bill.
"These'll buy a lot," Francis said.
"Not all that much," Carl said slowly.
Angie, who stood behind Francis, sighed, and pulled out two one hundreds.
"We need some information," she said curtly.
Carl eyed her for a moment.
"Who's the lady?" he asked, "I thought you didn't have a partner-"
"There's somebody back in town," Francis interrupted, ignoring the question, "that we want to find."
"Loubar," Angie said, "Victor Loubar."
Carl glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly.
"Ain't nobody heard from Vic Loubar in twenty years," Carl said, "not since he kidnapped some baby or somethin'-"
"He's back in town," Francis said, "and I want to know where he is. Now lay it out, Carl."
"I could get in trouble," he said squirming slightly.
Angie pulled out a third hundred and waved it in front of him.
"Ok, ok," he said, "well, see, I hear a few things-"
"What things, Carl," Francis said.
"Some guy he used to do business with," Carl said, "a guy by the name of, uh, Rick, yeah, Ricky Montoya. Rich thug, from the old school gangs way back-"
"What about him," Francis said, interrupting again.
"Guess Vic went to collect a debt," Carl said with a shrug, "so Rick housed him up, gave him some money or somethin'. Vic Loubar's the only guy Ricky Montoya's ever acted afraid of. Bad news, that man is."
"Anything else?" Francis asked.
"No," Carl said, eyeing the bills again, "that's all I know, honest."
Angie stepped forward, and looked Carl in the eye.
"That's all?" she said fiercely.
Carl nodded.
"Yeah, lady, get out of my face-"
Angie whipped Francis' gun from his holster and held it under Carl's chin.
"That's all?" she said again, softly.
Carl's eyes got even wider, and he pressed himself against the wall.
"Ok, ok!" Carl said, "Word is Loubar's not alone. Ricky found out about someone with him, a young guy, no one knows who he is."
Angie stuffed the money in Carl's pocket, and handed Francis the gun. She walked out.
"You find out anything more," Francis said, gesturing with his gun.
"You'll be the first," Carl said quickly.
"I'd better be," Francis said, and followed Angie out.
Stefan arrived at the Rodam Hotel right on time. He checked himself in the mirror one more time. He was the perfect image of Brian Tyler, his brother, well, half-brother, a man who had.... done what? What had Brian Tyler done to him? Nothing, really. But he knew, the only way their family would get together again was through destroying him. He knew. He had always known that, always been told that. It had to be that way.
He got out of his car and walked towards the cafe. He'd never seen Lauren Richards up close, only from far away while snapping a picture or two. He knew she and Brian were close friends, though, but at this point only friends. He was to try and test those waters, in a most, personal way. Why was this necessary? His father assured him it was one more step towards bringing their family back together, but, the two things seemed so separate, so distant.
Stefan walked into the cafe and quickly searched the tables. He saw one table with a young blonde haired girl sitting alone. He began walking towards her and she looked up. Stefan caught his breath. He wasn't, hadn't been prepared. She smiled at him. Stefan's entire body began to tremble and a strange warm feeling ran up his body. His mouth went dry, and his throat closed up. Lauren Richards was absolutely the most incredible person he'd ever laid eyes upon.
Lauren frowned, he wasn't moving, just staring at her dumbly. Stefan concentrated and willed his legs to move forward.
"Hi Bri," Lauren said, "what's up?"
"Hi, uh, Laur, uh-" Stefan stammered for a few seconds.
"You ok?" Lauren asked, innocently looking up at him.
Stefan grinned, but it ended up looking more like a grimace.
"Yeah, yeah, s-sure," he said.
"Are you going to sit down?" she asked.
Stefan turned pale.
"Oh, yeah!" he said, and plopped himself down in the chair across from her.
Lauren looked at him quizzically.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again.
Stefan opened his mouth, but, as he stared at her, he could think of nothing to say.
The door to Rollie's room opened slowly. A figure entered. Rollie sat up in bed, his eyes widening. The man had thick eyebrows, wore a moustache, but he recognized him, immediately. The man closed the door. He walked slowly over to Rollie. He reached up and pealed off the eyebrows and moustache.
"Hello, Mr. Tyler," Victor said softly, with a smile, "how are you feeling?"
Rollie gritted his teeth, struggling to control himself.
"Much better, thanks," he said slowly, "why are you here? What do you want?"
Victor smiled again.
"Why to see my oldest and dearest friend of course," Victor said, "and my most needy patient. Aren't you happy to see your doctor?"
"What have you done?" Rollie asked, shifting slightly in his bed as Victor sat down next to him.
"Why nothing," Victor said, "I have done absolutely nothing. That's the beautiful part. I don't have to."
"What are you talking about?" Rollie asked.
"The perfect revenge, Tyler," Victor said, "I've been waiting a long time. You destroyed my life, you put me on the run, chased me like I was some sort of animal. Well, now it's time to pay up. Everything comes full circle, you know."
"I still don't understand," Rollie said.
Rollie glanced around for a weapon of some sort. The drug was nearly gone. It only made him woozy now, he had a chance if he could surprise Loubar.
"You will," Victor said, "you will. We will see who is stronger Tyler, in the best of ways. Too, I will show Angela who is the stronger son."
"Stronger son," Rollie muttered, "Andrew. He's here, isn't he?"
A fire came into Victor's eyes. His hand shot forward, grasping Rollie's neck in a crushing grip. He leaned forward as Rollie tugged on his wrist, struggling for breath. He leaned until he was nose to nose with Rollie.
"His name," Victor growled slowly, "is Stefan. Stefan Victor Loubar. He is my son. And he will prove to all, that he is the better man."
"Better than who?" Rollie croaked, "my son?"
Victor's grip tightened.
"Yes indeed," he said with a smile, "yes indeed. Even now, your son is on the run, searching. Soon he will be dead. Then Angela. Then I, personally, after you have seen the ruined bodies of your family, will kill you. A fitting end."
Rollie couldn't breath. Anger welled up inside of him like a steadily flowing river, coursing through every part of his veins. He began to get dizzy from the drug, and the lack of oxygen caused him to start seeing stars. Loubar and the room began to get hazy. Rollie watched as Loubar reached in his pocket for something, then there was a knock on the door. Victor released Rollie, and he began to gasp for air. Victor pulled a gun out of his other lab coat pocket and showed it to Rollie.
"Say anything," he said, "and everyone is dead, whoever is at the door, you, your family."
Victor put his eyebrows and moustache back on, and opened the door slightly, and mumbled something to a nurse outside. She nodded and walked away. Victor turned back towards Rollie.
"Why are you doing this?" Rollie asked through gritted teeth.
Victor smiled.
"Because," he said, "I can."
Ricardo Alvarez Montoya sat silently in the small cafe a few miles from his large estate. He ran his hand over his slightly thinning black hair, and took a slow sip of his martini, on the rocks. Two of his hired men sat at a table nearby, keeping an eye out while he enjoyed a little relaxation. Soft Cuban music played through the speakers of the dark, oak lined room, the long strains of an acoustic guitar strumming through the air.
He took another sip, a hard swallow. The cafe was empty, save for he and his men, and a lone bartender, as it usually was this time of day. That was why he enjoyed coming here. Solace. Peace from his rather hectic life.
Montoya had grown up in the poorest of the poor slums, in the midst of an old Cuban community in New York. He ended up a thug, small time, a robbery here, a leg breaking there. Then, when he was only twenty, he got a break. He helped out a big time guy escape New York. The guy had kidnapped some baby and the entire NYPD was on his tale. He'd heard through gossip that the guy was some big shot assassin. He found out later, that it was Victor Loubar. Through a leak, he also found out the cops were onto his next move, the one where he fled New York through the subway tunnels.
He got to Loubar first, told him, helped him escape. Loubar had had many, many contacts throughout the country. After helping him, Loubar scratched his back in return, so to speak. He would ask for names, and Loubar would give him a reference. Soon he was rubbing elbows with the biggest names in the underworld community. First he worked as an errand boy, but with a few tips from Loubar he climbed the ladder of success.
He controlled his own drug ring now, with three warehouses full of production. He was a multi, multi millionaire, and he didn't hide it. But still, it was a dangerous and stressful life. Victor Loubar coming back didn't help any. Every so often, over the years, he'd hear from Loubar, when Loubar needed something. Money, help, a quick call to some grower in Columbia. Montoya had always given. He figured he owed him. Now, all these years and all those favors later, he was starting to get sick of Victor Loubar.
Montoya sipped his drink again slowly, his eyes narrowing. So far nothing had happened, but-
His thoughts were interrupted as the door burst open. Montoya turned around and his men jumped up. Standing in the doorway was a man and woman. Montoya squinted at them in the dark. The man walked forward, and reached in his pocket. Montoya's men reached in theirs. He pulled out a small leather pouch and flipped it open to reveal a gold badge.
"Settle down boys," the man said.
Montoya growled, and gestured for his men to sit down. Frankie Gatti. The notorious Frankie Gatti. For years now he'd been the bane of every criminal in his jurisdiction. He was a no nonsense, take no guff cop who always worked alone. No one dared cross Frankie Gatti, and if you heard he was on your tail, you'd best flee.
Montoya wasn't scared of him by any means, but a visit from him could only mean trouble.
"Detective Gatti," Montoya said with a mock smile, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Francis swung a chair around and straddled it, resting his arms on it's back. He faced Montoya across the table as his female companion stood, arms crossed, glaring down at him.
"Who's the mujer?" Montoya asked.
"I'm his partner," the blonde said curtly.
"I thought you didn't-" Montoya started.
"Vic Loubar's back in town," Gatti said, interrupting, "I want to know where he is."
Montoya swallowed. He should have known.
"Loubar?" Montoya said, frowning, "Loubar. Loubar. Don't know him."
"Cut the crap, Ricky," Gatti said, "I want him. I want him real bad. And you're number one on the list for helping me find him."
Montoya stared across the table at Gatti.
"I don't know the man," he lied gently.
Gatti leaned forward.
"Listen to me, Montoya," Gatti said, "I want information. And I'm going to get it. And until I do, I'm going to lean on you. Me and the whole NYPD are gonna lean on you, and your operation. You or anyone associated with you, or used to work for you, or is suspected of knowing you, will be watched. No one in your whole little outfit will be able to move without a man in blue being on their butt. You won't trade baseball cards, much less drugs, until Loubar is found."
Gatti stood up slowly, and Montoya's men stood up as well.
"Sit down," Gatti said to them.
They growled, and Montoya gestured for them to.
"Remember, Montoya," Gatti said, flipping a business card onto the table, "you can call me anytime, day or night, if your, conscience, starts bothering you. Give me the info, I'm off your back, no one will know where the info came from. Don't-"
The detective shrugged.
"Well," Gatti said, "I hope these past few months have been good in the revenue department. Because business is about to hit a slump."
Gatti saluted at the other men.
"Later boys," he said, and walked out, his glaring partner not far behind.
Montoya looked down and realized his was gripping the arm of his chair so hard that his knuckles were turning white. He released it with some force.
"Boys," Montoya said, "Victor Loubar just became a liability. I want him taken care of."
The men nodded, and one left. Montoya leaned back and took another sip. Stressful indeed.
Angie broke down in the car. Her husband was dead, her son out there, somewhere, and she was fighting with ruthless criminals. It was happening all over again. The pain of losing Andrew came flooding back. The fact that he was somewhere in New York, maybe even watching her. So close, but yet so far. Just like always.
Francis tried to console her, and she leaned over into his outstretched arm. He hugged her close and spoke softly, but the tears just kept coming, coming like they'd never stop.
Stefan was sweating. Profusely. The pourous mask had never felt hot before. He was in the bathroom, having excused himself after barely being able to speak to Lauren. He had taken off the mask and was throwing cold water on his face. As he bent over the sink, his mind was whirring. What was wrong with him? What was happening? He couldn't concentrate. His father seemed, somehow, very far away. He looked in the mirror again, his true face staring back.
He tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Who was he, anyway?
Stefan struggled to catch his breath, slow his heartrate. He didn't want to hurt this girl. He desperately didn't want to hurt this girl.
He was startled as the door opened a crack and a blonde head peaked in slightly.
"Hey are you all right?" Lauren said, her eyes turning slowly towards him, "Brian?"
For a split second Stefan was frozen, in shock. A split second too long. Lauren's eyes fell on him and widened in shock and embarrasment.
"Oh! I'm sor-" she started, but then stopped
She noticed his clothing, and the mask lying on the sink.
"Lauren-" Stefan started, his voice still sounding like Brian's.
Lauren gasped, and backed out of the doorway. Stefan grabbed the mask, shoved it in his pocket and leaped forward through the door. Lauren was running down the hallway and he ran after her.
She exited the building and ran down the street, and Stefan kept on her heels. A few pedestrians frowned as the Stefan chased Lauren down the sidewalk, knocking people out of the way in the process.
"Wait!" Stefan yelled, "Wait! I can explain!"
Lauren was in shock, and she turned quickly down an alleyway. Too late, she realized it was a dead end. She spun around to see Stefan standing behind her.
"Please," Stefan said, holding up his hands, "wait."
Lauren opened her mouth to scream and Stefan lept forward, pushing her back against the wall and putting his hand over her mouth. Lauren stared into his eyes, in which a strange fire had come.
"I said quiet!" Stefan growled.
A moment later, as he saw the fear in her eyes, he calmed down, and the fiery look in his eyes settled.
"My name," he said slowly, "is Stefan. And I can explain everything, but you must give me a chance. Don't scream."
Stefan slowly removed his hand from Lauren's mouth.
"Who are you?" Lauren gasped, "What's going on?"
Lauren had seen the tricks one could pull after being around the Tyler family. The disguise didn't amaze her, but the fact someone was trying to get at her by impersonating Brian was.
Stefan swallowed hard.
"You just have to trust me," Stefan said, "I-I can't let you go now. I'm sorry."
Stefan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small spray can. He brought it up to Lauren's face. Quickly, she brought her knee up into Stefan's crotch. As he doubled over in pain, she flipped herself over his back to escape his grasp, contorting herself beyond what Stefan thought was possible. He recovered quickly, though, and tackled her, turning her over and spraying her before she could scream. A moment later, she was unconscious.
Stefan took a deep breath, and glanced around. No one was in the alley, no one on the street was paying attention.
"Great," he muttered, "now what?"
Brian and Wally looked at the large electrified fence, which towered over them. A top the fence, was a large row of barbed wire.
"Ok, so he's worried about security," Brian said.
"Yeah," Wally said sarcastically, "a little bit."
He and Wally had decided to run through the list of three men one by one. The first on the list, Jonathan Tallmadge. Tallmadge was old money, very old money, and very old crime. It was said that Tallmadge was connected to every mob boss from New York to L.A. He'd been in prison in his youth, had gotten out, and had never been again. He was very good at not getting caught. The district attorney was still trying to pin something on him. He didn't even cheat on his taxes, at least not in a way they could find.
Wally had wanted to go to the front gate and talk to him. Brian had laughed down that idea. Instead, they would do it the 'Tyler way,' as he had called it.
"I don't suppose the 'Tyler way' includes pulling barbed wire out of your backside," Wally said, folding his arms.
Brian grinned.
"Sometimes," he said with a chuckle, "or close to it. Dad told me one time about-"
Brian stopped suddenly, his jaw tightening.
"So how do we get over?" Wally said, changing the subject.
"First the electricity," Brian said.
"You have some way of shorting it out?" Wally asked.
Brian shook his head. He glanced around. They had come up behind the giant estate, through the woods. Wally had already complained of mosquito bites and possible poison ivy.
"You up to some climbing?" Brian said, dumping his duffle bag on the ground.
Brian carried a large blue duffle bag full of 'toys' as he called them. He pulled out two pairs of large rubber gloves, long enough to reach the elbow. Wally raised an eyebrow.
"Rubber gloves?" he said incredulously.
"Sometimes the old fashioned approach works best," Brian said, "they're specially coated rubber, to ensure no possible conductivity."
"And the barbed wire?" Wally asked.
Brian pulled out a pair of wire cutters.
"Any other questions?" he said with a grin.
"Yeah," Wally said, "where do you get all this stuff from? You do this regularly?"
"Storage," Brian said, "my parents stored a bunch of old gear they used to use in Eldon's place. You'd be amazed what they had. What they used it for, I don't know."
Brian handed Wally a pair of gloves and they put them on.
"Just call us the Hardy boys," Wally muttered.
Soon they were stopped at the top of the fence. Brian slung the duffle bag around on his back and began clipping at the wire. A few sparks flew as the metallic wire cutters cut through the electrified barbs. A moment later, Brian pulled a large section of wire off the top of the fence and let it fall to the ground.
"Piece of cake," he said, swinging through the gap, over the fence, and dropping down the rest of the way, landing in a deep crouch.
Wally followed behind, and they glanced around.
"Which way?" Wally asked.
"We head towards the house," Brian said, "I pulled the blueprints from the city archives via modem. I can get us in and we can do a little eavesdropping, leave behind a bug."
"If you say so," Wally said, "let's go, quickly."
The mammoth backyard was covered with lush vegetation and tall trees, easy cover as they jumped from bush to bush. They reached the back of the house when they heard a deep growl come from behind them.
"Uh, Bri-" Wally said from behind him.
Brian turned around to see a great dane sized doberman bearing it's teeth at them. It let loose a flurry of barks that sent chills down their spines.
"You don't have doggy treats in that bag do you?" Wally said.
"Oops," Brian said softly.
"Oops," Wally muttered, "what do you mean oops?"
"Hold on," Brian said, slowly reaching into his bag.
He pulled out a small device.
"A brand new PDA," he said, "Eldon told me my parents were going to give it to me as a present."
The sleek looking device was six inches long, four inches wide, and only a centimeter thick. It was a deep metallic silver. It curved slightly from bottom to top, and the screen shone with a crisp quality. Brian hit a couple buttons.
"Get ready to shimmy up the drain pipe," Brian said.
Wally glanced behind them. The main patio was twelve feet tall, and it had a slight roof which stuck out from the house.
"Now!" Brian said, hitting a button hard.
Wally could barely recognize the ultra-high pitched squeal that came from the PDA, but the dog noticed it immediately. It dipped it's head and backed up slightly. Wally was up and on the roof in a second, and Brian followed. The dog began barking furiously.
"Someone's coming!" Wally whispered.
"Lay flat," Brian said.
The two flattened themselves against the roof and waited. A moment later they heard a voice.
"What's the matter Bruno?" a deep voice said.
The chubby guard, dressed in a dark blue suit, looked up. Brian reached over to one of the trees whose branches hung over the patio, and shook it slightly. A squirrel protested, and skittered down and away.
"Oh!" the man said, laughing, "Well, you must be hungry. Come on, I'll feed you something."
The dog whined as the guard led him away. Brian and Wally lay there for another long moment. Brian grinned at Wally as they lay looking at each other.
"No problem," Brian said, "see, I can handle any possible contingency."
Wally grumbled.
"The Tyler way," he said, "remind me to show you the 'Gatti way' sometime. It involves relaxing at home and letting the police do it."
"A wonderful substance this," Loubar said, showing Rollie the hypodermic, "based on a combination of sedatives used for mental patients and a little herb I found in South America. I'll make sure you get enough this time."
Rollie timed his strike perfectly. Loubar, overconfident leaned over him to inject him, and Rollie's hand lashed out as his Adam's apple. The room immediately began to spin but Rollie was able to collect himself as Loubar fell to the floor, choking. Slightly wobbly, Rollie got out of bed, searching for a weapon.
Loubar began to get up and Rollie grabbed a bed pan. Loubar charged, hypodermic in hand, and Rollie brought the pan in front of him. The needle stabbed into the pan and snapped. Rollie, with a jerk, brought the pan back against Loubar's head. Loubar fell back and slammed against the wall.
Rollie grabbed the nightstand to keep from falling as Loubar collected himself again, gingerly touching the welt on his head.
"Your family is dead Tyler," Loubar said slowly, "Dead!"
Rollie ignored the attempt to get him over excited and jumped back over the bed. He had to stay focus, in control. He grabbed the nightstand on the other side and heaved it through the window. The window shattered, and the stand fell two stories and landed on the grass below. Rollie glanced behind him too late.
Loubar slammed into him and they both fell through the window with mutual yells. They both landed hard, and Rollie tucked into a roll to soften the fall. He shakily looked up and saw Loubar struggling to stand, cradling one arm in the other. Rollie, still in his hospital gown, got up as well. A moment later a voice called down from the window.
"Hold it right there!" an orderly yelled, "Don't move!"
"He's gone insane!" Loubar yelled, pointing, "He attacked me! He's dangerous, you've got to stop him!"
Rollie didn't waste time explaining, but set into a run. He glanced behind him, but Loubar was gone. Rollie ran at top speed, ending up at the hospital parking lot. He began to sprint across, glancing behind him to see staff and a guard running out after him. He looked forward and sprinted between a line of cars. He came out in the open again and was shocked to see a red car blazing towards him. Behind the wheel, Victor Loubar drove with one hand, screaming out of the window.
"Goodbye Tyler!" he screamed, "Prepare to die!"
At the most inopportune time, the world began to spin.
"Where to now?" Francis asked.
"To your son's place," Angie said softly, "he was lying."
She and Francis sat in the car at a red light. Angie's eyes were still red from crying, but she had calmed down considerably.
"You think Brian paid him a visit," Francis said.
"I do," Angie said, "I think he knows where he is. For all we know, he may be with him."
Francis frowned.
"He wouldn't be that stupid," he said, "he knows how I'd feel if he interfered in police business."
Angie smiled at him.
"Why not?" she said, "He's your son, and you would have. Heredity can come back to bite you in the butt, you know."
"Hmm," Francis said, and they drove off.
Rollie couldn't move. He felt extraordinarily dizzy, and nauseous. However his ears worked perfectly and he could hear the grating of an engine as Loubar in the vehicle he'd miraculously pulled from somewhere bore down on him. He also could hear an inane screaming coming from a rasped voice, that of Loubar. In the brief moment he had before the car struck he thought of how Loubar had changed. From the fatally somber man with a deadly intelligence, to this crazed lunatic. Of course, Rollie had beaten the old Loubar. It seemed a little good old fashioned insanity was all Loubar needed to get the edge.
This passed through Rollie's mind in about a half a second. The next moment he thought of his family, and wondered if they would ever find out what really happened to him, how they would get along, how he would miss his son and all of the things he would do.
Something hit Rollie. Something hit Rollie hard, he thought at first it was the car, but then he realized it hit him from the side. The next thing Rollie knew he was flying through the air, and whatever had hit him was flying, no falling, next to him. They hit the ground hard and Rollie gasped as the air rushed out of his lungs. The blurry figure raised his hand and Rollie heard the sounds of gunfire, with a silencer. The back window of Loubar's car shattered, but he turned a corner and disappeared down the street.
"Tyler! Tyler, you all right?"
The voice was familiar. Rollie squinted and shook his head slightly as the figure leaning over him came into focus. There were new wrinkles around his eyes, his hair was slightly thinner, but the face was unmistakeable. Rollie gasped.
"Michael!"
"Did I ever tell you I was afraid of heights?" Wally asked.
"Oh come on," Brian said, "you'll be fine-"
"Why don't you think I go on roller coasters?" Wally continued, "I prefer spinning rides. Rides that spin and are low to the ground-"
"-there's nothing to worry about," Brian said, "I'll be right next to you-"
"-or those little kiddy flying elephants," Wally said, " I could handle those. They flew, but only six feet off the ground-"
"-and I won't let you fall-"
"-of course I can't fit on those anymore-"
"-we've got equipment, and that's the only way in-"
"-however you won't get me up there, and I'm telling no lie-"
"-you'll just have to-"
"Trust me," they both finished in unison.
They stared at each other for a moment.
"I do," Brian said with a smile, "just don't look down."
"Just don't look down, he says," Wally muttered, "easy for you to say adventure boy."
"You know, in our little fantastic four, you're supposed to be the 'Human Torch," Brian said, "remember, he could fly."
"Yeah," Wally said, "so can I. But he couldn't fly too high because he needed oxygen. I'm the same way."
"Hmm," Brian said, pulling a long black gun out of his bag.
"What's that?" Wally asked.
Brian took another object our of his duffle bag. It was a small grappling hook with a large rubber ball on the end where the rope should have gone.
"The rope is tied up inside this ball," Brian explained, "for easy carrying. It fits into the gun like this."
Brian snapped the hook into the end of the gun.
"Now," he said, raising it up, "we fire it at the roof."
"We're on the roof," Wally said, crossing his arms.
"Not the patio roof," Brian sighed, "the roof roof."
"Heel boy," Wally said with a smile.
"Funny," Brian said dryly, and fired the hook.
The hook sailed into the air and landed on the shingled roof high above. Rather than latch onto something, the four prongs flipped forward and dug themselves into the shingles. Brian tugged slightly, then hit a button on the top of the gun that sent an electronic signal to the hook. Out of the top of the hook, one long piece of pointed metal shot down, burying itself deep underneath the shingles, into the wood below.
Brian tested it, tugging hard a few times.
"Perfect," he said, "you or me first?"
Wally waved Brian forward.
"Don't worry," Wally monotoned, "if you fall, I won't catch you."
"Thanks," Brian said.
Another button, and a pair of handles unfolded from the sides of the grappling gun. Brian grasped one handle in each hand, and placed a foot on the wall. Another button, and the rope began to recoil. Slowly he walked up the side of the building.
"Just like Batman and Robin," Brian said as he started up, "the originals, that is."
"Right," Wally said with a smirk, "you know, you look better from this angle."
"Funny," Brian said.
Moments later he'd scaled the entire wall, and sent the grappling gun back down to Wally. Wally began to walk slowly upward. Just as he passed a window, it opened. He froze. A woman leaned out, she wore a maid's cap. Wally, a mere two feet above her head, tried not to breath. The woman strained her neck out, searching.
"Must be getting old," she sighed, and closed the window.
Wally breathed out slowly. He made his way up, and onto the roof.
"Holy close calls, Tylerman," Wally said, laying down.
"No time for naps, Boy Walter," Brian whispered, "we've got super villians to capture."
"Where to?" Wally asked.
"Did I ever tell you," Brian said, "about this thing we Tyler's have for ventilation ducts?"
Angie and Francis pulled up to Wally's apartment building.
"He's doing well," Angie said, looking up at the massive building.
"Better than a cops salary, yeah," Francis slight, no small hint of pride in his voice.
"I always told him to remember his Aunt Angie and Uncle Rollie when he got rich," Angie said with a slight smile.
Angie's eyes crinkled slightly. She hadn't said her husbands name in a while. She'd gotten caught up, lost, in finding her son.
"Let's go," Francis said, entering the building.
"What if he's not home?" Angie asked.
"Then we search his apartment," Francis said.
"Isn't that breaking and entering?" Angie said.
"Nope," Francis said, "I'm his father. It's called parenting."
Dark skinned, muscular young Tom Blake scratched his head. He'd finished working out and had decided to call up his best friends to go see a movie. Wally wasn't home, Lauren wasn't home, and Brian's phone was disconnected. Where could they all be? He hadn't spoken to them in a few days, he was training hard for a marathon.
Tom frowned. He'd just drive over to Brian's. Maybe something was wrong with the phone lines.
"Who killed her?"
"Victor Loubar."
Michael's hand clenched the phone harder.
"No," he breathed, "querida..."
"I know this is painful, but right now we need you focused. If you can't continue the assignment-"
"I'll continue," Michael growled, "I have to now."
He slammed the reciever down. His one and only love. Dead. Gunned down. He knew it was always a possibility, a possibility for both of them. But, somehow, with the abnormally dangerous work he did, he always thought he'd be first....
"Michael?"
The voice of Rollie Tyler pulled Michael Sanchez out of his reverie. They drove down the street, Rollie slumped in the passenger seat.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You passed out," Michael said.
Rollie groaned.
"Still got that stupid drug in me," he said, "it's wearing off, though."
"Loubar drugged you," Michael deduced quickly, "and faked your death."
"You got it," Rollie said.
Rollie sat up fully now.
"What are you doing here?" Rollie asked.
"I've been trailing Loubar for some time now," he said, "ever since-"
Rollie nodded sadly.
"All this time?" he asked.
"Not directly," Michael said, "but in the course of my various undercover assignments, I kept track of him. Got clues to his location. Never caught up to him though, but I was always one step behind him. I'd accept deep cover, especially dangerous assignments, if it meant getting close to him. Funny, only now, right back where it all started, would I catch up to him."
Rollie took a moment to take this in. Michael, carrying the torch for Mira all this time. They'd stopped searching for Andrew long ago, when Brian was born. They'd had to. Or had they?
"Thanks for your help, mate," Rollie said, glancing out of the back window, "no tails?"
"Please," Michael said with a laugh, "I've been in this business to long to let that happen."
"Listen, mate," Rollie said, "you've got to get me to the police. My family thinks I'm dead, and-"
"No can do," Michael said, "we're at a delicate stage here, Tyler. We're close to getting Loubar. Too close."
"What does that have to do with-" Rollie started.
"Loubar needs to believe he still has a chance to fulfill his original plan," Michael said, "I'm getting an idea of it already. We don't want him to change plans. He changes plans, we have to change plans. It's too risky at this point."
"That's stupid," Rollie said, "I have to let my family know that I'm alive."
"They'll find out soon enough," Michael said, "the other thing is that, knowing your family, they probably wouldn't want to stay away from you for protection. You coming out into the open puts them in danger. Trust me, Loubar has eyes and ears everywhere. He's still got connections in this town, even now."
Rollie's jaw tightened, and he sat forward.
"Ok," he said, "and what is the plan for now?"
"First we get you a change of clothes," Michael said, "I need help, and no knows fighting Loubar like you do."
"True," Rollie said.
"We're going to fight fire with fire," Michael said, "Loubar is ruthless, so we have to be ruthless. We're going to take him down. One way or another."
"We found out where Loubar is," a thug reported to Montoya, "his young friend is staying there with him."
"Go there," Montoya said, "and eliminate them both, and any one else with them as well."
"Si, jefe," the man said, and backed out of the room.
Montoya sighed. Gatti would find Loubar all right, gift wrapped, bow tied, and a bullet in his gut.
"I'm taking you home for now," Stefan said, "I'll have to check the place out first, see if my father's there."
Stefan looked at Lauren, who was tied up in the front seat of his car.
"You won't get hurt, I promise," he said as sincerely as he could muster.
Lauren shot an icy glare back at him, and looked away. Stefan sighed, started up the car, and drove off.
The hallway reverberated with what some might have thought was a thunderstorm. It wasn't. It was Francis Gatti banging on his son's door.
"Open up Wally," Francis said, "if Brian's in there-"
Angie put her hand on Francis' arm.
"He may not be home, you know," Angie said.
Francis frowned and reached in his pocket. Out of it came a small lock pick. He glanced around, bent over, and with a few deft moves unlocked the door.
"No security system?" Angie said with surprise.
"He's a very trusting kid," Francis said with a smile.
They entered the apartment and Angie gasped in surprise. There were definite signs of a struggle, which had been haphazardly, and quickly cleaned up. Chairs and couches were off kilter, a plant replaced after being knocked over.
"They fought with someone," Francis said, walking in.
"But it looks like they won," Angie replied, "and cleaned up afterward. Sort of."
Francis walked around carefully, searching under the furniture for clues. Angie headed for the back of the apartment. Francis frowned as he approached a wall and fingered a deep gouge in it. A gouge made by a knife. There was no blood on the floors, though, and that was a good sign.
"I can't believe this," Francis said out loud.
"Can't believe what?" Angie called from the bedroom.
"That they would just, just get up and go do whatever they're doing!" he growled.
"Wally's a lot like you in some ways," Angie said, "and in many ways Brian's like, like his father. He's good at getting in trouble, and Wally's loyal to a fault."
Francis smiled slightly at that, and then shook his head, sobering.
"I hope Brian's just as good as Rollie," he muttered, "when it comes to getting out of trouble."
"What's that?" Angie called.
"Nothing," Francis called back.
"What do you suppose they'd do?" Angie asked.
"Search for Loubar," Francis responded.
Angie came back out into the living room. She nodded.
"How?" she asked.
Francis thought for a moment.
"By doing what we're doing," Francis said, "asking his old friends."
"But how would they find out information on Loubar?" Angie prompted, crossing her arms, "or, more precisely, where?" "The only way would be through the police security system!" Francis cried, snapping his fingers, "But if Brian stepped into-"
Then he frowned again.
"He is like Rollie, isn't he," he said.
Angie nodded.
"I'll call the precinct," Francis said, "they know Wally. If Brian disguised himself, and Wally escorted him-" Francis cell phone suddenly rang. He flipped it to his ear and listened. His eyes widened, and he thanked the officer and hung up.
"Eldon got a visit from Brian and Wally," Francis said, "a while ago."
"What?" Angie said.
Eldon had entered the special effects business himself, after some tutelege from Rollie. While they hunted for Loubar, Eldon took Rollie's equipment and made it big with a series of movies. Eldon surprised everyone by proving to be a genius when it came to unique ways of doing some very realistic looking effects. He gave Rollie the credit for inspiration. When they had returned, penniless and pregnant, Eldon had given them a lot of their equipment back, and some money to get on their feet.
Unfortunately, the police had kept Rollie's death a secret for the time being, since Angie and Brian were still in danger.
Eldon must have found out from Brian, Angie thought, then probably figured out Brian wasn't supposed to be out on his own.
"He said they borrowed some equipment, saying it was for Rollie," Francis said, "but when he called Rollie, he couldn't connect to the loft. He'd done some snooping, and found out about the loft. He figured he'd better contact us."
"I'll talk to him later," Angie said quietly, "when this is over."
Francis quickly phoned the Midtown South Precinct and spoke to an officer. He thanked him and slammed the phone into it's holster on his belt.
"Wally was there all right," he said, "with the commish."
"Van Duran?" Angie said with surprise.
"I doubt it," Francis said, "seems they went over to the police computer, spent some time there, and split. Van Duran never yelled at anyone."
"Not once?" Angie said.
"Not once," Francis confirmed.
"Brian," she said tightly, "if you give me access to the police computer, I can find out what they accessed."
"Let's go," Francis said.
They left the apartment.
Tom stood in front of what used to be the loft, his mouth wide open, concern in his dark eyes. He reached back and scratched his head.
"A shame isn't it," a voice said, "a lot of great movies have come out of that place. A shame about the death, too."
Tom looked at the tall, thin, man before him.
"Yeah," Tom said, reaching out his hand, "my name's Tom Blake. Yours?"
The man grasped his hand in a firm grip.
"Victor," he said, "Victor Williams."
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Williams," Tom said, "you know what happened here?"
"Call me Vic," the man said, "you don't know? A fire. A bomb, actually. I heard the explosion, was driving a few streets down."
"I didn't hear anything about it," Tom said with horror, "one of my best friends lived there. Did anyone-"
"Someone died, yes," Vic said sadly, "Rollie Tyler."
"Oh no," Tom breathed.
"Actually," Vic said, "I'm Agent Victor Williams, FBI."
The man produced an official looking FBI badge.
"FBI?" Tom said, "What's going on?"
"Someone's targeted the Tyler's," Vic said, "Rollie Tyler's already been killed. Brian Tyler is missing. That's the friend you're speaking of aren't you?"
Tom nodded.
"We could use your help, son," Vic said.
Tom's muscled arms tightened as his hands formed fists.
"Who did this?" he asked.
"A very dangerous man," Vic said, "an old enemy of Rollie Tyler's. But, right now, we need your help to save Brian."
"Anything," Tom said, "how can I help?"
Vic smiled, and put his arm around Tom.
"Come with me," Vic said, "we need some information, we're going to track this guy down."
Tom nodded, and followed Vic.
"My Dad's not there," Stefan said, as he opened the passenger door, "come on."
He lifted Lauren out of the passenger seat. She growled and began to squirm.
"Please!" Stefan said, "I don't want to have to knock you out again."
Lauren stopped moving. Stefan carried her into the small dingy apartment building, and up a flight of steps. No one was outside of their apartments. Stefan set Lauren against a wall and pulled a small device out of his pocket. He pressed a button and a small beep came from inside the apartment. He picked up Lauren again, and carried her inside.
"Had to disarm the system, sorry," he said.
He set her down in a chair in front of a table.
"Now, don't fight," he said, "and don't scream. No one around here will hear you, and if they do they won't care." Stefan slowly took off her gag.
"Who are you?" she said, after taking a few gasps of air, "what do you want?"
"Sssh," Stefan said, putting his finger to her lips, his hand quivering ever so slightly, "I'll explain everything in a bit. I-I'm kind of afraid you'll run. I'll have to keep you tied up for now, I guess."
Stefan ran his hand through his hair. He was sweating slightly. He was completely uncertain how to handle this situation. He didn't want Lauren to be angry with him, but he'd painted himself into a corner and wasn't sure how to get out. He knew what his Dad would say. But he didn't want that.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, "To eat?"
He opened the refrigerator on the far wall.
"Um, we've got salami," he said, "some cheese. A salad."
"I want to know who you are," Lauren said, "and why you've kidnapped me. Why were you impersonating Brian?"
Stefan tightened at Brian's name. He swallowed hard.
"I-I was," Stefan stammered, "it's rather complicated."
"I'm sure I'll be able to grasp it," Lauren said, "what's going on?"
Stefan sighed, and opened his mouth. Just then there was a popping sound and a large hole appeared in the door. That was almost instantaneously followed by a large hole in the table, right in front of Lauren. Lauren screamed as she realized she was being shot at. Stefan reacted immediately, running and diving across the table, slamming himself into Lauren.
The table and chair Lauren was sitting on was suddenly sprayed with bullets, slivers of wood flying everywhere, and Stefan and Lauren crashed to the ground.
"Uh-oh," Stefan said, dragging Lauren to her feet.
He flipped her over his shoulder and hurried away from the splintering door.
"Put me down!" Lauren cried, "Untie me!"
"No time!" Stefan said, trying to open a window with one hand.
The window was stuck and Stefan felt a burst of adrenaline as he heard the door being broken open. He grabbed a small wooden chair sitting by the window, and slammed it through. He quickly, but carefully, shoved Lauren through the broken window, and climbed out himself. Two bullets struck the window frame as he climbed out. He caught a glimpse of two masked men, but he was on the run immediately.
He hefted Lauren and ran down the fire escape. The metallic sound of bullets hitting iron reverberated, shaking the rickety structure, and sparks flew with each hit. Stefan ducked, and ran faster, Lauren bouncing uncomfortably on his shoulder. He heard the sound of the men pursuing him.
His father had prepared for just such an eventuality. As soon as he hit the pavement, he pulled out the small remote device he carried and hit another button. Two small pops signaled minature explosions coming from the somewhere around his window. Suddenly the fire escape creaked loudly and began to topple away from the building.
The two men yelled as they were thrown down, the metal structure creaking and clanking against the concrete. It came to a rest, one man unconscious, the other moaning, and cradling his arm. Stefan ran in the opposite direction. As he ran down the side street he'd exited into, though, a car turned a corner and began slowly coming at him. Someone leaned out, and a wave of bullets hit the dirt in front of him.
"Move!" Lauren yelled, breathless, though she was facing the opposite direction.
Stefan ducked into an alleyway. They'd mapped the area around their hideout carefully. This would exit into the street. Unfortunately a large garbage truck was blocking the way. Stefan knew the men were already leaping out of the cars, so he thought quickly. Opening a dumpster on his right, he threw Lauren in and jumped in himself. He closed the lid and held his breath.
"Sssh," he mumbled to Lauren in the darkness.
Only a small shaft of light shown through the lid as they waited anxiously for it to pop open. Stefan felt around the dumpster carefully, and grabbed something. He went to his knees, ready to spring. He could hear the men slowly making their way down the alley. They knew he was in the dumpster, no doubt.
The lid flew open and Stefan popped out, the wooden board in his hand already swinging. The masked man was too slow and it connected with his head, the board splintering in Stefan's hand. Before the man could fall, Stefan grabbed him and swung him around. Stefan's arm was around the man's neck, and Stefan's gun was at the man's temple.
"Don't move!" he growled.
The two men he faced froze.
"Drop your guns!" he said, shoving the gun harder into the man's temple, "or he dies!"
The feeling of a gun to his head brought the man back to full consciousness, but he didn't dare move. The men glanced at eachother, and threw their guns down.
"Now turn around!" Stefan yelled, "Drop to your knees, and put your hands over your heads!"
The men obeyed. Stefan shoved the man he held forward.
"Do the same!" he said fiercly.
The man did so, so all three were lined up together. Stefan reached into the dumpster and undid Lauren's feet. She stood up slowly, and he helped her out with his free hand, since her arms were still tied.
"Come on," he whispered.
"The first one to move, dies," Stefan said.
Slowly they made their way down the alleyway. The men didn't move. Stefan turned the corner, then pulled Lauren into a run. They came to the men's car.
"Jump in!" Stefan cried.
Lauren obeyed, and, as Stefan had hoped, the car had been left running. He put the car into reverse, for the fallen fire escape blocked the path ahead of them, and tromped on the accelerator. The men burst from the alleyway and looked in shock as Stefan sped away from them.
"Duck!" Stefan said, pushing Lauren's head down with one hand.
Guns fired at the hood of the car erupted into sparks. Stefan reached in the intersection of the next street, and spun the car ninety degrees. passenger was shot out, shattering and throwing glass over Lauren, who screamed as she wedged herself on the floor of the car. Stefan pushed the car into drive, and sped off, out of sight of the men, and out of range of the deadly weapons.
"You ok?" Stefan asked.
Lauren stared up at him in disbelief, visibly shaken. That was turned into a spout of anger.
"Let me go!" she cried, lunging up at him.
"Hey!" Stefan said, pushing her away, as the car swerved, "You trying to get us killed?"
The look in Lauren's eyes plainly said: not "us".
Stefan sighed, and drove on in silence.
"Mr. Tallmadge doesn't keep his vents very clean," Wally muttered.
"Ssh," Brian said, "keep quiet."
"I'm gonna sneeze," Wally retorted, "I just know it."
"No sneezing," Brian said firmly.
"Ok," Wally said, "but you can't do anything out of the other end."
Brian didn't reply. They crawled, first Brian then Wally following behind, through a narrow series of main ducts that led into the top floor of the mansion, a large attic full of cobwebs and old paintings. They popped out of the vent, softly crawling out onto the floor. Wally stood up slowly, wincing.
"I need to stay in better shape," he said.
"I said be quiet," Brian whispered, "come on."
Wally shook his head.
"I still don't know why we couldn't have-"
"Sssh," Brian said, waving his hand at Wally, "there are probably guards posted all over the place. If Tallmadge is as deep into the crime racket as the reports suggest, then he's probably paranoid. With good reason, of course."
"What are you hoping, exactly, to find out?" Wally asked.
"The location of Victor Loubar," Brian hissed.
"And then what?" Wally asked.
Brian frowned, and didn't answer.
"That's what I was afraid of," Wally muttered, too soft for Brian to hear.
"Don't move," a frigid, deep voice said.
Brian and Wally froze.
"Put your hands up, turn around, slowly," the voice ordered.
They obeyed, turning slowly to face a man in a dark suit, a gun in his hand. Brian grinned nervously.
"Uh, hi," he said slowly, "I think we're lost."
"So, you've really been following Loubar all this time?" Rollie said.
Rollie stood in the small living room of the apartment Michael was temporarily staying in. He'd changed into jeans and a shirt, and had showered. A little food, and he was already feeling better.
"Off and on, yes," Michael said, "you'd be surprised the things Loubar has had his hands in over the past twenty years or so."
Rollie watched Michael as he walked to the adjoining kitchen, and took a beer out of the small refridgerator. He hadn't aged well, looking ten years older than he was, at least. Signs of a hard life.
"I saw you," Rollie said, "at the funeral. On the hill. You could have come down."
"No," Michael said, shaking his head and taking a swig of beer.
His eyes narrowed.
"Mira and I never really reconciled a lot of things," he said, "besides, I, I couldn't bear to look at her again."
Michael walked back into the living room.
"When I found it that it was Loubar," he said, "I vowed that I would stop him. One last thing I could do for mi querida."
Michael's voice trailed off.
"But you know all about chasing Loubar," Michael said, sitting down on the couch.
Rollie nodded, not sitting.
"That I do," he said, "and we'll have to do it again. Of course, I haven't done that sort of thing in a while. After Brian was born, we decided to stop doing police work. One boy was lost to Loubar, we weren't going to lose our son to any other criminals."
"Of course," Michael said, "I, however, didn't have reason to stop. I had more reason to continue. Loubar kept his son with him-"
"You knew about Andrew? Back then?" Rollie said.
"I found out," Michael said, "I saw the boy, once. But Loubar disappeared with him, as he did many times."
"I'm sure you have some stories to tell," Rollie said.
"One too many," Michael said, taking another long swig, "I've kept busy doing freelance work for the CIA and FBI. I've always kept close to Loubar, though. Found out what I could undercover. Got close. Never close enough."
"Isn't that always the way," Rollie said.
Rollie took a deep breath, and turned, walking to the dirty window.
"He's out there again, Michael," Rollie said, "he tried to kill me. Now he's trying to kill my family. Angie's son is out there somewhere too."
He turned back towards Michael.
"We have to find Andrew," Rollie said, "and stop Loubar."
Michael got up and went to a table on the wall. He pulled a gun out of the drawer and tossed it to Rollie. Rollie caught it and shook his head.
"I don't use these things," Rollie said, "never have."
"Keep it," Michael said, "trust me, you'll need it."
"Michael-" Rollie began.
"You want to come with me, you'll be armed," Michael said, "we'll need to watch each other's backs."
Rollie opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it. He slid the gun into his back pocket.
"Our first step?" Rollie asked.
"Get on the trail," Michael said, "we think like Loubar."
"Been there, done that," Rollie said, "it's no fun."
"Life is no fun," Michael retorted, "now, Loubar's lost you. What will he do?"
"Use my family as bait to get me back," Rollie said, "trust me, it's his modus operandi."
"Agreed," Michael said, "where's your family now?"
"I don't know," Rollie said, "if I'm any guess, the police, Frank Gatti in particular, has them under protection."
"Will your family stay there?" Michael asked.
Rollie frowned.
"If I know my wife," Rollie said, "she'll find some way to get involved. As for Brian-"
Rollie stopped. His son thought he was dead. What would he do?
"-I don't know," Rollie finished, "he might be like me, stupid, and try to go do things himself."
"Ok," Michael said, "so we start from square one. We find your family, we find Loubar."
"Good," Rollie said, "then we contact Francis and-"
"No," Michael said, "we can't. Not yet. We've got to stay in the background. We'll find him by other means."
"And how do we do that?" Rollie asked.
"You can use a computer can't you," Michael said.
"Yeah, I know a thing or two," Rollie said, "I had a good teacher."
"Then you can help me," Michael said, "you'd be amazed the little gadgets you can pick up working a couple decades for central intelligence."
"They looked up Loubar's previous contacts, I'm sure of it," Angie said.
They were at the precinct. Angie had run a search of previous information inquiries, looking for the tell tale signs of her password bypass.
"Pull up the list," Francis said.
"It's printing out now," Angie said.
"Good," Francis said, "we'll take 'em one at a time."
"Where are we going?" Tom asked.
"We need your help to find Brian," Vic said, "first we're going to debrief you. Then we'll need your input on likely places he might go. If we can find him, we'll also need your help in setting up a little sting operation."
"A sting?" Tom said.
"To catch the villain himself," Vic said, "the man who broke up a family."
"Good," Tom said, slamming his fist into his other hand, "I want to see this guy rot."
"Oh so do I, son," Vic said, smiling slightly, "so do I."