Fairy: The Second Book, Part 1 free porn video

Fairy II: The Fairy Genome Project Spreading the truth They were a disparate group. A hobo, a drunken ex-real estate developer, a waitress, a writer and her family, a cop and a Mobster's daughter cum anthropologist. But they shared one secret that the rest of mankind has yet to learn... If the Faerie had considered the changes that were to come, Dandelion, once Daniel, would have never have had the chance to cause such a turmoil. A young boy converted to Faerie in punishment for his crime of trying to keep one captive, the boy was that rare gem among humans, someone who thought completely outside the box. The Faerie, a race of humankind separated from the rest of us by 2 million years of evolution were dying, and we were the cause of it. Our treatment of the world around us as a combination garbage dump and slot machine was driving them into extinction. But thanks to Dandelion and those fellow travelers who remain human, the Faerie have come up with their own way to survive. The Fairy Genome Project. Planning The Fairy tapped the toes of a finely turned foot and leg on the floor, the marker a huge sausage shape in her hands. To someone who merely recognized faces, they would have thought her to be the singer Toni Braxton. However that singer was not a bit under four inches tall with a pair of gossamer wings and bright pink hair. The home she was in would have immediately been seen as a very nice country manor house of the late 18th century. But it was at a scale best described as about 1/17th. Every inch being equal to about seventeen inches. By that definition she would have stood just a bit under six feet tall. The room was comfortable to her at this height. She stepped back, and looked at the map with growing frustration. She dropped the marker rubbing her arms angrily. "Frank is going to have to invest in some smaller markers," she growled. 'Her' name was actually Rob and except for brief times when he was among the Fairy, he was a 46 year old man. He had never given the Fairy a last name. He'd given up that name along with is life when he became a hobo fifteen years previously, and quite honestly didn't want to remember what it was. At the moment he was a female, and the girls of the Angeles Forest had made sure he could spend as much time as possible in this form by bringing in others from as far away as San Diego and Barstow. As it was every female in every realm wanted children, but since he had not made a trip north or south yet, they had gone unrequited. How he was a man, yet was a Fairy woman was thanks to the convoluted mating process Faerie deal with. Let's just say you pitch, then you catch, and being still human, you are capable of catching for another 12-14 hours. But if you do, you remain Fairy forever. If you didn't you'd grow back to normal size. That is, unless they kept bringing yet more hopefuls to service. It could be fun, but he had things he had to do. Rob was busy doing what he had made his life's work, planning the route for yet another trip as the human spokesman for the Angeles Forest Faerie band. He was not only spokesman, but ambassador in an effort to connect the Faerie across the nation, and eventually the world. Rob planned the next trip meticulously. He had never told the Faerie what he had done before he'd given up a normal life to be a hobo. But he planned routes very well, and thanks to Faerie contacted that were close to the route of the first trip, he already had five places to go on this next run. On the wall they had posted a small copy of a map of the US, and he had taken that damn Sharpie marker to mark it. The first run starting in April of the previous year had been by plane to Pennsylvania (Never again) then through upper Pennsylvania, into New York, up through the Northwest to Maine, then down the coast turning west through the Gulf coast states then the Rio Grande as far as Big Bend National Park. Then through Oklahoma and Arkansas traveling states he hadn't hit yet up to Cleveland Ohio, then west again until he'd reached St Paul Minnesota. Add to that two frantic speed runs where he didn't stop to sleep, eating behind the wheel. From St Paul to Taos New Mexico without a pause, then across the Southwest from Taos to LA when he was sure he might lose the two pregnant girls that had accompanied him. He stepped back, looking at the map. It was old, from a high school test book of the second decade of the 20th century. A number of what we call states were still territories then. But it could be clearly seen that he wasn't even close to being done. Of course he had not hit every possible place where Faerie probably lived in the states he had been to. Any area of swamp or trees covering more than an acre could hold up to a dozen, and he had decided to hit just the main realms along that route. Otherwise the sheer size of the job he had set for himself would have driven him to drink. Thinking of this, he poured a crystal glass full of Morning Glory wine, and returned to his musing. The almost 9,000 miles he had traveled so far would have meant years on the road if he had stopped at every possible location. The average realm as he had come to call the clan and tribal units covered two hours normal flying distance for the Fairy, a little over 50 miles in diameter. As it was, the only state he had covered fully was Rhode Island, which is barely 50 miles square. But spreading three things the Faerie desperately need, the ability to communicate, his own seed, and hope, he had begun to forge an alliance that now stretched from Maine to Miami, from Maine to Minnesota, and from Miami to Los Angeles. He couldn't take all of the credit. Dandelion had been one of the prime movers behind his work. She had suggested the communication, he was merely the humble instrument of that. A woman that could have been his exact twin came in, holding a baby in her arms. She sighed, walking over and with the ease of long familiarity, encircled his waist with her arm. Trillium, who had once been called Tony was Rob's wife in everything but actual vows. The sleeping girl was theirs. "Why are you still up, beloved?" she asked gently. He hugged her back. "Just trying to tweak the route a little better." "You have been 'tweaking' the route since December," she replied tartly. "If I let you I expect you would tweak it right up until the day we leave." "Trillium-" "No." She transferred the baby to Rob's arms, then caught his chin. "I will not stay here. We go together or not at all." "Jealous?" he asked jokingly. "No. I just feel safe with your arms around me. Holding you in the night makes me wish you never had to leave again." "Hey, until we get a few hundred people helping, I'm the only one not anchored to a place." "There is Frank." He snorted. "Frank may be on our side, and pretty good when it comes to handling money, but he's a glad handing sack of shit when it comes to dealing with people. I can out negotiate him when I'm half asleep." She sighed and nodded. There were still only a handful that not only could see the Faerie, but were willing to help without becoming Faerie. Rob had taken to calling them fellow travelers, which irritated Frank when he visited here. Frank didn't like it because it smacked of Communism, but Rob replied that it was a literal translation of the Russian term poputchik, or 'person travelling with you but not belonging to your group'. That was a pretty good definition for a human aiding Faerie. "No more." She caught his arm, turning him away from the map. "You will come to bed, and you will sleep. Or I will caress you to orgasm during the night and you will never leave," She warned. "Promises," he snorted. She ran a hand up his flank, and he shied away. "All right, I'll be good." "That is better." "But I have to let the others know my itinerary." He motioned toward a box in the corner. "Then send your message and come to bed. Or..." She ran her hand up to the cleft of Rob's legs, and he gasped. "You will spend the hunger being serviced by me." She grinned. "I mean it." He walked over to the box. At his height it was over six feet tall and about three wide. But he had finally convinced the Fairy to use metrics so they could all communicate distances, so it was 110mm tall, and about 78 wide. It was a Treo handheld communications and storage device. In his old life he had known that good commo was the primary need after medical supplies. Anything else you could make or take. He flipped the switch, and waited as it booted up. Then he brought up the e-mail screen. He picked up the stylus, which was the size of an assegai, and began tapping the letters. The message was short and sweet, and he sent it to everyone before he shut down and went to bed. The Center In Maryland at Fort Meade is an agency considered the most ominous of all, because it is so secret few even know what it does. The name, the National Security Agency tells you nothing. What it actually does is handling the most efficient gathering of electronic intelligence ever devised. Started during the interim between the World Wars, the NSA was formed by combining all of the different military and civilian electronic intelligence agencies, a merger that unlike the CIA, actually worked. If it is transmitted by any electronic medium from telegraph to satellite, it comes here, captured and if necessary translated. Because to quote Mr. Universe from Serenity, 'You can't stop the signal'. Let's face it, as much flak as the Bush Administration caught for the wiretapping of 2005 and 6, if it is broadcast, someone can hear it whether you like it or not. The few who have always hated the idea, Henry Stimson as an example, who said, 'Gentlemen don't read other Gentlemen's mail' still have to admit that if you need it, it is nice to already have it. Over a billion signals from the idle internet browsing you might do to the long heartfelt phone call your daughter has can be captured. The farther distance it has to travel, the more likely it will be. Attachments on phone cable leading overseas, antennae spread like the open jaws of a Venus fly trap, satellites in orbit. They suck it all up, worldwide, and spit it down into the hungry data banks. As much as the average citizen might worry about it, the Agency has neither the time nor the money to read everything that is sent. Beside how really interesting political or deviant are you? Let's face it, People outside of their specific expertise are uniformly boring. When the NSA is doing it's job properly, all of those signals are routed through machines that use key words to determine what is or is not of interest. Like you shuffling through the papers on your desk looking for the one with that phone number you can't remember, but done several million times a second. The first super computers were designed with the NSA in mind because only a super computer could handle this processing alone in any reasonable time. If there is no keyword, the machine deletes it. Just this alone reduces the onward flow by almost 95%. What there is of it goes through yet another processing where the number of keywords is counted. The system will flag it by the importance of what was said. The more key words, the greater the interest. Think of the word is. It was repeated seven times in the preceding page. Picture it as if you are in in a room with a dozen people, all of whom are listening to your every word. Every time you use a word on that list, another person looks at you. Soon all of them are. But if you use only one word, and don't over use it, the interest fades until again no one is looking. If the indices, the number of times something is said, or the importance of that keyword warrants it, the source is automatically tagged, and every signal is now sent upstream to a human agent. What is most frightening about what I have described is all of this is still on the machine level. No person has even the inkling that this suddenly important message exists. Not until the machine grabs them and says to look. One such key word has been there since the late 1970s. The signals have come through the filter, patiently looking for this keyword, then are passed on. Back when they still had hundreds of human analysts who read or listened to transcripts, it was also in use, ever since 1941. Until the computer age, these men and women merely assumed someone had added it to check up on them, and sent messages through to test them. The word is not even in the lexicon of most of the agency. It is not a terrorist buzz word, a location of a known drug operation or a place or name that might ring alarms. It is a simple five letter word, with variations included for possible misspelling or language. A signal hit this stage and was immediately diverted to another station. What was odd, is that the act of detecting and resending the message was immediately ordered deleted by yet another program. No one here in the building would ever know the message arrived. That it was tagged, and sent on. There was no record that it had been intercepted, sent or, for that matter who received it. Except the ones that did it. Consider that. The hunter Martin Runningfox lay silent, watching his prey at a distance of less than thirty meters. He had lay in this covered trench for almost two days, sipping water, eating a bit of trail mix. The shot was his goal, and he always paid mentally and physically for it. He looked through the sight, catching the target in the crosshairs with the ease he had always had aiming something. His hand was rock steady. He began to press the trigger when he felt a rumble against his hip. His finger froze mid pull. He dealt with the tenth of a second of automatic reactions. The target looked around, sensing something, then returned to what it had been doing. The phone stopped buzzing, and he started his preparation again. Held half breath, then he completed the squeeze. The trigger broke, and the Big Horn sheep, now hearing a buzzing whir of the film advancing leaped into flight. He waited until the animal was out of sight, then he slid up out of the hole. Seeing him there you would have never believed such a large man could have hidden in such a small place. He had honed his skills as a boy on the reservation, as a young man in the rice paddies of Vietnam and Cambodia, then on to every place the Agency could think of where people should die. That had been ended officially in 1975 thanks to Gerald Ford. But it just meant he now worked as a 'contractor' and those who used his services branched into the public sphere as well as government. He took out the phone' flipping the lid up. Murdock of course. He wondered again why he had even taken this job. Murdock smelled like agency sort of, but of the back room everything is deniable type, mixed with a fanaticism that bordered on the lunatic. Yet in the last seven months, he had yet to discover exactly what Murdock was into. He keyed the recall, waiting patiently. "Runningfox?" He merely grunted. Murdock had supplied the phone and service. Runningfox never went anywhere without it. Who else would answer? "You have a target." "Be there in three hours." Runningfox waited until the idiot hung up, then began walking down the slope. He had lived for those words for almost 50 years now. ***** Ralph Murdock didn't like dealing with him, but the commander of the base security team was an asset he would use anyway. He turned. looking at the display behind him. The small glass jars were nestled in a row, sitting there for him to look at, to remind him of his great purpose. Each was labeled with a small white tag, the first discolored with age, as were the next three. The last five were newer. The tag on the very last jar was less than five years old, all were in his own handwriting. He heard the pressurized system on the door actuate, and he hit a button, lifting the wall to conceal the jars. There is an old joke where you ask a spy what he does and he replies, 'I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you'. Murdock was the kind of man that said that and meant it. Runningfox was still in the clothes he'd worn in the field. Murdock might have been appalled, but said nothing. The man stopped in front of the desk, silent. Murdock slid across a thin folder. "An agent of a foreign power is transporting a secret cargo from Los Angeles to points east. Possibly bio weapons toxins. We know he will be in Las Vegas on this date. You will neutralize the agent, take his camera bag, and return here with it. "The bag must be handled carefully. It is not to be opened. It will be taken without damage, put in the container I will have loaded in your vehicle, and brought back here." "Neutralize?" "I do not want him alive when you leave." Runningfox nodded, turning and walking back out. He waited until he was back in the common part of the lab before opening the folder. He looked at the picture taken from a driver's license photo. "Rob, no last name," he mused. Voyage into peril As much as Rob wanted to leave the girls safe in the Forest at the end of winter both Rose and Trillium refused to be left behind and if they went, the girls had to go. Lupine and Blue Belle wanted to return home with him as well. Two new Faerie accompanied them. Thistle of the Angeles Forest clan, who had grudgingly come to accept part of Dandelion's claims, and Pear blossom from one of the Orange County realms. Rob had replaced the old car he had been driving before. It was good, but too small as one raid in Chicago had shown. He'd found a '60 Buick Road-master, what would be a tank if they put guns and armor on it. He had an interior trunk release added, along with a pull tab up front for the same reason, to allow him to open it quickly. That had saved lives in Chicago. While the organization now had over a million in the bank, they were still circumspect about what they spent it on. His expense account would have been the despair of an auditor, because he reported an average of only one hotel stay per state, usually in one of the small chain hotels. He didn't splurge on 500 dollar lunches or suits. He didn't pad the accounts. No late night 'meetings' at strip clubs with 200 dollar lap dances, or pub crawling. Hell, Frank spent more than he did. But living in LA with the new offices off Sunset, every cent could be justified. When asked by Rob what might happen if they were audited, Frank had waved it off. There weren't enough offices or employees yet to be considered worth it. The average small consulting firm started with as much if not more in the bank than they had. They had what, three offices with Morgan Xavier opening the Brownsville one? All of them spent, but it was buy things the girls might need. T01here was an Essential Supply catalog each carried with them, and he'd bought hand cranked chargers for those in areas without a lot of sunlight. Maddie in New York had bought a car she kept on Long Island to drive them out to the clans of the Northeast. The communications which had faltered during the winter began to pick up. According to all sources the number of Faerie working on the project had shot past 100 nationwide with a dozen in Canada and Mexico brought into it by the searching Faerie. They had no direct communications with them yet. The human side had jumped to almost 20. They were still centered in cities, LA, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Charlottesville North Carolina among others. On the correspondence front the numbers had jumped to 20,000 American contacts and almost five times as many overseas. He was trying to figure a way to get there. Flying with Faerie involved had been interesting in the same way that watching someone sew up your leg without anesthetic was. They traveled East toward Nevada first, stopping at Barstow, then started the trek across the desert to Las Vegas. The one place he had not expected to have a clan was that hectic city, but the greenbelt that had grown up along the 15 had actually made it easier that he might have anticipated for them. Rob was having more fun than he'd had in years. The girls were as different as any six women could be, but they got along. The thing that bound them together was the children. It had been the same in the Angeles Forest. During the winter months, he had found the joy of fatherhood by holding the babies, not caring which he held. Hope had taken to watching him when he held her, and she always had a smile just for him. Calla, Rose's child would curl up against him and fall asleep. or watch him as she lay against his chest. Lilac, the baby of Dandelion and Holly was a handful that squirmed constantly, yet would cry if you didn't hold her. Not that anyone passed up the chance. Having new children in the nests was a joy to every Faerie they had met. It was shocking when he saw tears in the eyes of some of them until he remembered the numbers. They weren't pretty. Most nests averaged one or two new children a year. Lucky ones had between two and five. New converts were even more rare. Only about one or two a decade. With an average of five per year that died it meant the realms were shrinking. He saw hope in their eyes, and he was glad he had given that to them. The city hulked on the horizon, and all of the girls looked at it with amazement. They had seen cities before, but Vegas is unlike any city in the world. A plush space carved out of the wasteland, it was lighted every minute of the day it seemed. Video systems showed scenes from shows in the casinos, and snippets of music played at all hours. He had chosen an off strip hotel, and parked there. His room was already reserved, and he paid with his card. "Is it always this loud?" Thistle asked. "Here, yep." "I do not like it." She shook her head in disgust. How do humans stand it?" "We get used to it." "Then I shall stay in the room after finding the local realm." She told him. "Better that than constant dinning noise!" He knelt. "I understand. But we're only going to be here a couple of days. I'm going to contact those dancers, then the local realm. Once that is done, we're out of here." "Not a moment too soon." Thistle just shook her head. "This place give me a cold feeling. If I had a say we would leave this instant." "Want me to get anything for you?" She shook her head. "There is drink and nibbling food in the wet bar." She said, pointing at the fixture. "Just remember, we pay for everything we get from it." She nodded. He was worried. Thistle was like her name; prickly and a pain if not handled correctly. But he had never seen her this way before. She looked like she wanted to kill something. "You're sure?" "Rob, will you just go?" she snarled. He nodded, picking up the camera case. "Rose, Trillium, we should leave the babies-" "Rob, I will not leave you, or our daughter out of my sight!" Trillium cried. "I feel some of what Thistle must. We must finish our business here quickly." He felt it too. Hadn't felt this since '81. He wished he'd brought a gun, but that was from his past. Besides, wandering a casino armed was a sure way to end up in a police station and he couldn't let any cop just open the bag. Still he took two of his knives. He went out to the car, starting it. For a moment, he considered checking out and hitting the road. But he'd have to let everyone know, make plans... He shifted into gear, and headed for the Casino. ***** "There he is." Runningfox told his team. There were two of them, the small Cuban Sanchez and the Swede Larsson. He didn't need any more for this op, so the others were still at the base. Larsson pulled out, tailing at a discreet distance. The car ran toward downtown, running into a parking garage. They followed. Not hard to tail someone here. With 24 hour traffic why would you suspect the car that had pulled into the parking garage was after you? The older car pulled into a slot, and Larsson went past it As they reached the turn for the next level, Sanchez popped his door, and rolled out. The car went up. "He's heading into the casino. I'm following," Sanchez reported. Their headsets were standard SWAT design hands off units. "Do not approach until we get there." "But-" "I repeat, do not approach." ***** The inside of the casino was even louder than the outside. Rob felt for the girls, trapped in the bag, putting up with high decibel noise. He spoke with a security guard, who directed him to the stage entrance. Another guard stood there. "I'm looking for two of your showgirls," he said, holding out a card. "Kimberly and Dawn." The guard looked at him then the card. "You don't look like a high roller." "I don't gamble at all." The guard shrugged. He opened the door, passed the card to someone inside, then turned to face Rob again. A few minutes later, a girl stuck her head out. "Rob?" "That's me." "I'm Kimberly Dane! Please, come in!" He stepped through the door. The girl was a well built woman with the long muscles of a dancer, and wide hazel eyes. Her auburn hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing a sports bra and running shorts. If the outfit had been any smaller, he would have thought it was a mismatched bikini. Kimberly walked ahead of him, and he watched her ass for a moment as she walked. Very nice. The girl led him to a door. "Does nudity bother you?" "Not since I started wearing long pants." She looked confused, and he immediately tagged her as a dumb blonde, though her head was a fiery red. "No, it doesn't bother me." She smiled, opening the door, and motioning him in. The reason for her question was obvious. There were a dozen women in various stages of undress from fully dressed to fully nude. They looked up, saw that he wasn't a producer or millionaire, and immediately ignored him again. Kimberly lead him across the room, knocking on the door on the other side. It was marked D Carstairs. "Come in," a throaty alto called. Dawn Carstairs was femininity personified. She was tall, statuesque, with a bosom that screamed female without looking like she was smuggling honeydew melons. She looked up from her make-up table, then went back to putting on the last of it. "May I help you?" The accent was a smooth upper crust British. "This is Rob! From Innerworld!" Kimberly gushed. Rob wanted to ask if she always talked in exclamation points. Dawn considered him in her mirror, then turned slowly. The outfit she was wearing did nothing to hide her body. It accentuated every curve and hollow with exquisite care, leaving only specifics like if she was shaved down there to the imagination. Her hair was platinum blonde that didn't come out of a bottle. "You don't look as I had anticipated." "How so?" "I expected some new age yuppie or an ancient hippie actually." She said. "Instead I get someone that would look better in a wild west show or a gladiator movie." "I got the face I was given," he replied calmly. "I understand that, sir." "Please. Call me Rob." He moved to stand beside a chair. "Please, ma'am, be seated." Dawn took her seat, Kimberly sitting in a chair beside her vibrating with excitement. Rob sat. "You ladies filled in a questionnaire on our website saying that you saw Faerie. Could you explain where and when?" "Back home in Dorset," Dawn replied. Before I came to your country." "I saw them in Wyoming!" Kimberly squealed. "Some of them even spoke to me!" Rob looked at them. If they were lying, they were professionals. He set the camera case down, and unzipped it. "I am sorry cameras are not..." Dawn began. She stopped when tiny heads lifted up, looking at her. "Oh my dear god." She leaned forward, looking at the faces before her. Kimberly had leaned forward too, and she looked like a child who had snuck down the stairs Christmas Eve and found the real Santa there. "May I touch you?" Kimberly asked. "I'd rather you didn't," Pear blossom said. She lifted into the air, settling on the edge of the case. "Humans tend to be a bit... rough." "I promise I'll be gentle,." Kimberly said tenderly. "Oh very well." Kimberly look on the table, then picked up a fluffy feather that had come off a headpiece. She ran the feather along Pear Blossom's sides. The Fairy giggled. "What are you doing, love?" Dawn asked. "Daddy always said, if you pet a bird, you do it with a feather. It doesn't disturb the oils and lay of the feathers. We raised and trained birds." The girl explained to Pear Blossom. Pear Blossom lifted into the air. Kimberly sat there was if terrified that she would scare the little being. The Fairy flew closer, and her lips brushed Kimberly's face. "You have learned well, girl." The meeting went for almost 20 minutes. The girls had a show to do, and they offered to let Rob stay in the dancer's lounge. Dawn, resplendent in her full costume escorted him back, as nonchalant as if she were dressed for Buckingham Palace. The security guard motioned him into a small waiting room inside the backstage area. He sighed, setting the bag down. "Want something to drink?" the guard asked. If Dawn was paying attention to this beaten up cowboy, he must be someone important. "Coffee would be nice," Rob said. "I've had a busy day." "Something to eat?" "Maybe some fruit?" "You got it." The guard picked up his phone, and talked for a moment. "It will be right here." ***** "Man when is he coming out?" Sanchez snarled. "Chill." Runningfox had discovered that the Cuban got really antsy when things didn't go exactly right. He had to keep the little bastard on a tight leash. They lounged around the door, looking at the guard. "Sanchez, go pick a slot bank. Get something to drink. Nonalcoholic. Larsson. Have a seat at the slots over there." Runningfox moved to the other bank of slots. ***** The girls poured toward the stage entrance looking like any group of dancers now off for the night. Kimberly walked into the lounge, looking at the Fairy encircling the platter. She gasped, kneeling down to look at the two babies. "Oh, they're beautiful!" She gushed. "What are they're names?" "This is Calla," Rose said. The baby was nursing, and refused to let go of the teat. "And this is Hope." Trillium said. Hope moved sleepily, and went still again. "My love is the father." She motioned toward Rob. "You're the father?" Kimberly looked at him, confused. "But she's so small, and you're so..." "Let's just say it's magic," Rob said. "Oh, okay." Dawn entered. "Oh they are dear ones, aren't they." "And Rob is the father!" Kimberly told her. "Of both?" Dawn asked. "Oh, no," Trillium piped. "I am Calla's father, and Rob is Hope's." "I'll explain when we have the time," Rob said dryly. "This I will have to hear. We were headed home, will you join us?" "Sure." The women walked out into the hall beyond. Rob followed, standing between and slightly behind. ***** "Target." Larsson said calmly. Runningfox dropped the coin he was playing, eyes tracking on him. Bad news. Two women. "We're going for the snatch. Do not, I repeat do not terminate." ***** Rob's alarms were going off, and he couldn't figure out why. He moved closer to the girls, eyes moving. Yes, a big man ahead. To that man's left, a blonde guy. "Trouble, ladies." "What?" Dawn slowed, looking back at him. Her eyes widened. Rob was turning, dropping toward a crouch as the stun-gun hit him. Everything happened in just a few seconds. The stun gun shocked Rob into collapsing, falling in a spiral toward the floor. The little Hispanic man that had hit him grabbed the bag, shoving Rob away with his leg, then turned and ran. Runningfox and Larsson bulled their way through, running as if to capture the thief. Kimberly screamed. Not the little squeak of someone terrified but a loud shriek that caused everyone around to look at her. Guards started converging. Dawn had dropped to her knees by Rob, who was struggling to his feet. "We have to get out of here!" he gasped. "But-" "Now." He looked at her and she recoiled from the look on his face. "He's stolen my friends and my baby. Do you want to have to explain to the guards that a bunch of Faerie just got kidnapped?" A guard came up, looking down at them. Dawn helped Rob up. "Those men ran over us," she shouted to the guards. "Is he all right?" one asked. "Yeah, fine." Rob stretched. "You can press charges-" "They are probably long gone., Rob said. "I don't have time to stand around waiting, if it's all the same to you." He stalked off in pursuit. The women followed. "Whoever they were, they were after the bag," he said as they walked. "Probably had orders to kill me too." "What makes you think that?" Dawn asked. "The two in front of us were armed. The blonde guy was even ready to draw." He slowed. "SWAT headsets." "What?" He started walking faster. "They were wearing SWAT headsets. Maybe the government." He pulled out the Treo as he walked. He sent a message out to all stations. ***** Corn-silk was the newest member of the Taos realm. A runaway, the young boy he had been was glad to escape into a world he would never be found in. She was paging through the internet when the e-mail came in. She had just started opening it when the small cursor she had installed not long after her arrival began flashing. She immediately keyed in an all stations alert. ***** Rob felt the Treo buzz against his hip, and pulled it out. TAOS TO ALL STATIONS. STOP TRANSMITTING IMMEDIATELY. PREDATOR STYLE TRACKING/COPY SPIKE WAS ACTIVATED WITH MESSAGE FROM ROB. UNLESS YOU CAN VERIFY WHO IS SENDING A MESSAGE OR CAN SEND WITHOUT DETECTION , DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT SEND ANYTHING. CORN SILK "Shit," Rob said, pocketing the device. Just when we need communications desperately, we can't use them!. ***** Runningfox took the bag from Sanchez. "Watch him, don't approach," he said. "We'll get this to the lab, and come back to take him." Runningfox opened the trunk. There was an opaque plastic box in the trunk, and he set the camera case in it carefully. He turned toward Sanchez as he closed the lid. Lupine dived for cover in the trunk as he did. There was a hissing sound as the lock snapped. "Sure Jefe." Sanchez smiled, moving off to stand behind a car near the door. He waited until Runningfox had driven away before drawing his pistol. It was a specially modified Desert Eagle .50 pistol, threaded for a silencer. He didn't like them. It made the gun a little muzzle heavy, and the black tube obscured the front sight. He especially didn't like the idea that the roar of his piece would be a simple cough. He liked that sound. ***** The guard was walking back to his station when his walkie-talkie bleeped. "Morris." "That guy you were talking to had something stolen." "What?" Morris turned. He could see the man and the two showgirls heading for the exit. "You sure?" "I checked with the Eye right after you got there." The Eye was the security system originally created just for Las Vegas back in the 1950s. A series of mirrored lenses or walkways, where a person would stand, sometimes for hours, watching someone playing below. With the proper training, the person or Eye would spot obvious cheats. A secondary use was simpler. Thieves stalked the casinos, preying on the unwary. But people don't like being stolen from, and the Casinos always liked their customers to be happy. So if a thief was spotted, the watcher could testify against him. These days it was much more modern. Banks of cameras behind non- reflective little globes attached to the ceilings watched anything and everything. No one challenged the eye. Morris was already walking fast to pursue the man. "I'll probably need back up," he said. He drew his sidearm, a Beretta 9 millimeter. ***** Rob's senses were on high alert. The last time he'd felt this was way back when. Back when he was still part of the world. He shoved the girls down, and was diving before the bullet had left the muzzle. "What is it?" Kimberly squealed. "A shooter." Rob drew the knife. It was a Spetznatz dagger with a razor sharp six inch blade . He looked at it, remembering axioms about bringing knives to gunfights. Nothing he could do. "Hey, Pendejo! Stand up and take it like a man! I don't want to have to kill two frails too, ya know?" Rob didn't even consider it. If it was the man that had stunned him, they had gotten a good look. He just wanted to make it easier on himself. "You promise not to hurt them?" "Hey, it's just you I want, Communista!" "Stay down," Rob ordered. "Rob, he's lying," Dawn pressed. "He'll kill you and come after us." "I know that," he admitted. He pulled the pin on the side of the pommel "But it's my fight, and I was taught to take the fight to the enemy." He pushed up. "Freeze!" Morris came around the corner as Rob reached a kneeling position. He was aiming at Rob, and by the time he realized he had the wrong target, it was already too late. Sanchez spun, two rounds blowing the Security guard off his feet. Then he felt a searing pain. Rob had pressed the button and the specially designed knife snapped as the spring threw the blade forward. It hit Sanchez low, slamming into his liver. Rob didn't wait, he leaped over the car hood. Sanchez screamed in pain, trying to track the man, but Rob grabbed his hand, ripping the gun from it and breaking three fingers. "Where did they take it?" he demanded. He caught the hafted, twisting the knife. "Where?" Sanchez spat in his face. "Eat shit, Pendejo!" Rob caught him by the jaw and back of the head, a brittle snap ending the man's life. He dropped the body, pulling out the blade and wiping it before setting the blade against the concrete and sliding it home in the grip again. He picked up the gun automatically. He hadn't held a gun in what, almost twenty years? But it felt so right. Too right. He slid it in the back of his pants after removing the round up the spout and setting the safety. Then he went through the dead man's pockets tossing everything in his jacket pocket. Dawn was sitting by the security guard, crying. Morris had taken both rounds in the chest. Either one of them would have been lethal. "Stay here where it's safe," he ordered. "Rob, where are you..." "First I have to get the other Fairy where it's safe. Then..." He looked at the body of the man he'd killed. "I'm going to get in touch with my inner darkness." "No." She stood, pulling Kimberly to her feet. "We have a place they won't be looking for you." "Dawn-" "Men like that don't work alone. You will need a safe place to stay and plan," the woman said. "You can't merely run out and chase them, can you?" "All right. Get in your car, and I'll follow." Dawn watched him go. She had compared him to a wild west character or Gladiator. She hadn't mentioned that the character he seemed to portray was the aging gunfighter who has to fight one last time. ***** Lupine had always hated the carrying case. She knew it was necessary if they were going to accompany Rob to meetings with humans. But she still didn't like it. When the box had suddenly lurched and moved a different direction, she put her eye to one of the pinholes they had made to look out. The man carrying them wasn't Rob. She could tell by the clothes he wore. "Trouble," she hissed. She drew her sword, and began cutting the side of the bag open. It was hard. The plastic weave was tight, and her blade was good enough for hunting, but not much on cutting a way out of the bag. She had barely cutt a hole large enough to slide through when two men joined the one carrying them walking toward a car. The large man obviously in charge took the bag from the other. "Watch him, don't approach. We'll get this to the lab, and come back to take him." "Sure Jefe." That didn't sound good. Lupine slithered through the hole, then dived for cover, flashing into invisibility. There was some large opaque plastic box in the trunk, and he set the camera case in it carefully. He turned toward Sanchez as he closed the lid giving her a chance to leap up and out of it.. There was a hissing sound as the lock snapped. She wanted to scream as the trunk lid came down. She could see by Faerie sight, but it didn't help. The box was of glued sheets, with a small canister attached to the side. It had a thumbprint lock, which she didn't recognize. All she knew was there was no keyhole to try with her knife. She moved around the back as the car started. The hinges had metal pins that had been melted so they couldn't be removed. The hissing stopped. She had heard cries of fright from within the box when it had begun, but now, it was silent. Ominously silent. "Trillium? Rose?" She pounded on the side of the plastic case, but there was no reply. She could see that they were still alive, the senses a human gained as a Fairy reached into the infrared, ultraviolet, and even detected a little electromagnetic radiation which the human body puts out. The people were sprawled as if they had been knocked out. She had to get out, find Rob, get help! She look up at a handle inside the lid of the trunk. What had Rob called it? The interior trunk release. They were new on cars made since 2004. A way to get out of the trunk if you had been locked in. Press the handle, and the trunk would automatically open. The car was rolling smoothly now. They were on the road going somewhere. She considered popping the release, but what then? Oh sure, she could escape, but what of the others? She sat, grumbling. She hated being locked in, hated having to wait, hated this entire thing. Confusion Dandelion had called the others together, and they stared at the Treo in worrisome silence. "We cannot use it?" Queen Periwinkle asked. "No. We try, and the spike tracks us down," Dandelion told her. "I do not understand." Dandelion ran her hands through her hair. "A few years ago, the FBI, that is a national police agency, started worrying about crimes committed in cyberspace." "Where?" "All of the communications between computers happens in what we call cyber space. Think of all of the electronic as an actual piece of land where they can travel to meet each other. That is cyberspace. But the problem is, it used to be very hard to prove a crime had been committed," she thought furiously. "Think of having one of your dresses suddenly being on me, but you can't prove that it was your dress. If you told anyone else that I was wearing your dress, they would be confused. Because they would remember that you had given it to me, or I had made it myself. "You see, computers are dumb. They believe what they are told. Some people found they could steal money by convincing a computer that it was really their money all along. So they started making special programs like watchdogs. passwords so I can't open your files, that kind of thing. "But people found ways to get past them. They convinced the computer they were the right person. The codes the people protecting it created get more and more complex. The codes used to sneak past them get more complex. It's an ongoing process." "So there are thieves." "And thief-takers. The FBI had a program created with crimes in cyberspace in mind. It will break any code you might use to protect your files, and track the location of the computer they are on down to the address. At the same time, it records everything you say to be used as evidence. They call it predator." "So the predator our sister in Taos speaks of searching for us is a... device?" "Yes." Dandelion sighed, looking at it. It had been a brilliant plan by Rob to connect with the internet. But if the Feds were now searching for them... "What can we do?" Holly asked walking in. She held Lilac their child. "Must we die?" "Damn it, no!" Dandelion too the length of lead from a propeller pencil Rob had brought it. She picked a wall, rubbing her chin. "If we can get one message out they can't break immediately..." She began writing. Preparations Dawn looked back at the huge car Rob was driving. At 5,000 pounds, a Buick Road master could get hit by anything smaller than a Hummer and come out the winner. She pulled up to the gate, hitting the security remote. The gate opened, and she signalled for Rob to pull up tight. Both cars passed through the gate. The condo they were renting was a two story duplex with double garages. She opened the garage door, motioning for Rob to take a slot, and slid her car in beside him. The man still sat there, staring at the dashboard. He looked as if he'd been asleep in a wonderful dream, and reality had punched him in the gut. The Fairy he had introduced as Thistle looked at him, unsure of what to do. She looked at Dawn beseechingly. The woman signalled, and the Fairy flew upstairs. She signaled for Kimberly to go on up as well, then walked around to the driver's door. Rob's hands were clenched tight on the wheel. She could see the bakelite they used to use for steering wheels bending slightly. She knew that whatever was bothering him would keep him here, unable to move if she didn't find a way to break it. She could berate him. The big strong man that was falling apart when they needed him the most, but her instinct told her that would drive him even deeper. She remembered not only his words, but the way he said them. My friends and my baby. Those words had shown a deep pain in him. Something no one had touched in years. He had tried to save someone before and failed. A part of him was sure he'd fail again, and as strong as he was, he couldn't take that again. Instead her voice was tart. A mother talking to him as if he were a child afraid to get out of the car. "Are you going to sit there all day?" Was there an incremental relaxation? She hoped it was, because she had already set her course. "We cannot go into the house until you get out of that car. Now be a good boy and open the door." His hand loosened from the wheel, fumbling for the door handle. She took hold of the outside one, opening the door. "Upstairs, son." He flinched, but he left the vehicle. She was at least twenty years his junior, but she had control. He was a mountain, almost a foot taller than she was as well, but at the moment, he was a child ordered about by his mother. He looked down, his eyes slipping past her face to the floor at her feet. If he had been ten he would have been digging his toe in the ground. "Get yourself upstairs. That's my lad." He walked toward the steps up to the first floor, and she closed the car door. The shivers hit her, and she held onto the door handle, dealing with them silently. So much pain so long repressed. She followed him when she could. Rob had gone into the kitchen, sitting alone at the dining room table. His hands were clenched on the table, and his eyes were locked on them. "I prefer chamomile tea at this time of night. What would you have, my young lad. Coffee? I know, hot chocolate. Is that all right with you?" She didn't know if it was the tone, or the words, but he relaxed slightly. "Yes, chocolate. Properly made." She took out a small saucepan, pouring milk. She gently simmered it, watching him sit there. The chocolate smoothed out, and she got a package of small marshmallows. She poured her tea, his chocolate, and brought the tiny marshmallows over to sit beside them. A tear glistened on his cheek, and she reached out, gently wiping it away. Like a damn bursting he was wept. She stood, standing behind him, holding him gently. "Tell me about it, Rob." ***** In 1981, Rob had been 21 years old. A man ready for his second tour, he had re-upped to take Special Forces training. The young man so sure of himself dived into the training. He'd flown through the courses with high honors. He'd learned three Arabic dialects. Instead of being sent of to an A Team or a Special Operations Group, he'd been seconded to the American Embassy in Islamabad. "We were trying to catch up after the Halloween massacre," he explained in a hushed voice. "Halloween Massacre?" He grinned, a smile that had no mirth in it. "October of 1977, Stansfield Turner, the new head of the CIA fired 800 'ethnically placed agents'. to save money so the CIA could get into satellite surveillance." He quoted Pedantically. "When the Russians invaded Afghanistan, the agents that could have told us why were on the street, looking for work. Instead of admitting their error and finding these men and begging them to return, the Government went to the military. Men like me, those who spoke languages but weren't born and raised by parents that came from the nations had to take up their jobs." He gave the same pained smile, sipping his chocolate. "I arrived in '81 when the Mujahadeen started really teaching the Russians a thing or two about the nature of their people. Armed with guns that were obsolete at the end of the Second World War, Molotov cocktails, and about a mile of guts each they crossed the border from Peshawar, and fought a modern army with planes tanks and poison gas to a standstill. They lost hundreds, thousands before the world was willing to think of aiding them "That winter, the Arabs intended to make a big score. A top ranking General was coming to check out the fighting, and they intended to capture or kill him. Our embassy wanted to capture him. Think of it. The commander of an Army Group in our hands, better yet, in our hands and they think he's dead. We supplied more modern guns, and me. Five men went with me." His fingers clenched. "It went wrong because the Russians had deployed Spetznatz teams to spot any attackers. By chance they ran across us. Instead of fighting us, they called in air strikes, artillery, and troops, thousands of troops. We ran and they followed. We fought our way back to the border. Of my team that had gone in, I was the only survivor. "Then suddenly I find out that the son of a bitch in Islamabad had been running the operation completely rogue. He hadn't bothered to let Langley know. A new man was sent in. He was told that I had set it all up." He laughed again. "I had. The agent gave me the money that went to the Afghans. He had supplied the guns that I gave to them. But all records of his involvement were gone. It was me that ordered the mission. Me that caused the deaths of men I'd worked with and loved like brothers. All dead for nothing. "They sent me home, and a court of inquiry decided I as responsible. I was kicked out of the Army with a discharge that would have stopped me from getting a job parking cars. I went home to find out that my mother had been mugged, and was lying in a bed in a coma. I didn't have any money, couldn't get help. She died there. One minute breathing, the next not. Not even a whimper. But her bills lived on. I sold her house, all of her things, and it still wasn't enough. I was threatened with the destruction of my credit my life everything a man is supposed to care about. Then one day I couldn't take it anymore. I caught a freight and never looked back." He drained the mug. "Then I met them. People who didn't give a fuck what I might have done in my past. That would have welcomed me, made me one of them just because I was kind to them. I found a reason for living, and the last year was like I had never failed." "You didn't fail." "Ask the world. I killed men I loved according to them. Set the Country up for ridicule as if we didn't have enough politicians doing it more efficiently. Didn't find a way to keep my mother alive. Now?" He looked up. "I've let these bastards steal my baby, my friend's baby, and five people I care about. I have to find them or my entire life is a waste." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't fail again." She touched his arm. He was more relaxed now. Calmer. He reached into his pocket, taking out the spoils from the assassin. Two more magazines for the pistol, a wallet with about five grand in big bills, and a cell phone. He looked at the ID, snorting. "Either Agency or a kite," he commented. "A what?" "Slang for an agent who doesn't work for you directly. Any time you want to pretend he doesn't exist, you cut the string and he flies away." He leaned forward. "I can't just sit here. I have to find out where they were taken and fast." "What can we do to help?" ***** The car slowed and turned. They had been driving for almost an hour. She estimated that if they drove like Rob did, they had traveled about fifty miles. The road surface was now gravel, she could hear the tires whine as they spat the stones away. Lupine wished she could see outside. But Rob had told her that modern cars had sensors to warn you if your trunk was open, so even easing it up to get a look would alert them. The men had been silent this entire time. No chatting, no radio. She might have been completely alone in this metal hell. The vehicle began to slow, and she lifted up to the release. She tugged it several times as the car stopped, but it didn't move. Then she pushed it, and it gave. Suddenly the trunk lit flipped up, and she held on for dear life. The man that had put her friends in the box reached in, lifting it. Then the door slammed shut again. Cursing, Lupine shoved until the release gave, and the lid lifted. Not much, but to a 105mm tall Fairy, it was more than enough to slither out. They were in a desert. No sign of life anywhere. The man and his companion were walking toward a concrete bunker with a metal door. The one that was empty handed pressed a series of numbers on a keypad, and the door swung open. They went in, and the door closed. All right, she now knew where they had been taken. Now she had to get that information to Rob. She closed the trunk lid, at least far enough to look closed, then looked around. Half a dozen cars sat beside the one she had been in. There was light on the horizon, and she hoped that was the city. Still she had to make sure. She flew upward, wings humming until she was about 2,000 feet up. Yes, the light was spreading behind the hills. She dove, racing forward. It wasn't far, maybe an hour's flight. Things weren't going to be that simple, however. Something made her dive, skimming the ground. Then she caught a tree branch. An instant later, a winged shape shot past. An owl. It was only about twice her size, but that was more than enough to have killed her. She watched as it beat the tree with it's wings, screeching angrily. She climbed down the tree as it tried to claw and peck at her. After a moment, it lifted off again, but she could see it circling, watching her. In her home, she would have had real trees, not these scrubby bushes to use as cover. They were spread out, and she would have to fly from tree to tree, watching out for attack every centimeter. Worse yet, it shared that sense of the electromagnetic in life. It wouldn't be fooled by her invisibility. She looked at the sword. Robs had been a big help in finding good spring steel blades, but she hadn't though she would need it. In fact she had left every one of her other weapons in his damn car. This was fine if it came to a last ditch defense, but right now she wished she had brought one of the rat-spears! Well there was nothing for it. Either she killed the damn owl, or this would go on all night! She leaped into the air, flying toward the next tree. No dodging yet. All it would do is slow her down. The owl turned, then stooped into a dive. She stayed low, the desert grass less than ten centimeters below her. She could feel rather than hear the Owl's approach. The edges of the flight feathers were loose, making it stealthy in flight. Without that sense the first she would have known would have been the talons meeting in her flesh. She waited as long as she dared, then ducked right. The owl shot past her, climbing. She turned, and put everything into a sprint. She raced up behind it, hand locking in the flesh below the feathers, the sword plunging again and again. The owl shrieked, trying to fly every which way at the same moment, trying to dislodge it's tormentor. Blood sprayed back into her face, and Lupine spat it out, the sword still plunging in and withdrawing. The bird hit the ground, and they rolled. The blade reached something vital, and the bird collapsed, whining in pain. Lupine stood. The head turned, and she thrust in through an eye. The bird shivered and fell still. She felt like whining too. She was bruised, battered, and dog tired. The adrenaline shakes hit, and she looked around frantically. This was when Fairy hunters were in the greatest danger. Nothing moved. She felt the shakes pass, then slowly began to fly toward the city lights again. ***** Rob wasn't at the hotel. Neither was his car. He wasn't at the casino they had been in either. She considered her options perched on a lamp post. Without Rob, she had no way to warn the Realms of this threat. She cursed. When they got back together, she was going to learn everything she could about computers! Below her was a sign, and she looked at it. INTERNET CAFE Internet! She flew down. It was late, or rather very early but there were people still at the computers, She saw one that was empty, and moved to the door. A customer walked out, and she dived through the opening, flitting back to the unoccupied computer. Password. What was Rob's password again? She had been the one that had handled the Treo during the trip, but this was a thousand times as big! She shoved the mouse, jumping on the button to access the internet. She typed in Innerworld.net. When the screen came up, she shoved the mouse until it was set over the CONTACT US button, jumping on the button again. when that screen came up, she filled in everything she could, creating a fictitious e-mail address because she had never had one. Rob's were all listed by names. Then she leaped into a hover, sliding left and right to punch the keys with her feet. She got the message in, hit the submit button, and dived for cover. The girl was tired. She had been on her feet for almost eight hours, and it had been a rough night. She looked at the computer. Someone had been logged in according to the system, but no one was here. She clicked the logout button, and walked back up front. ***** TO ROB. ROB, I AM AT THE INTERNET CAFE IN DOWNTOWN NEAR THE PYRAMID. THE OTHERS ARE BEING HELD IN THE DESERT. I NEED HELP NOW! LUPINE ***** Dandelion saw the message, but was too tired to think. She was in the middle of creating the code they needed. At least one of them had gotten away. She shook her head, trying to think. All right, they might know about Blue Belle, but did they know who she had been? ***** Lupine saw the flitter, and whistled, a cry not unlike a bird to the human ear. But the harmonics would notify Fairy that another was here. The motion she saw was a pair of Faerie. She approached slowly. Crossing into a realm without warning could lead to conflicts, and right now she desperately needed help more than a fight. The elder of the two nodded. "You are?" "Lupine. I am of the Central Park Realm of New York." "What are you doing in the Strip Realm?" The question wasn't angry. But the two girls clutched their weapons. "I am traveling with a human. Some of our party were taken prisoner by some men, and are being held in the desert." "What do we care of humans?" the younger snapped. "The ones held captive are Faerie." They gasped. "But... How did they see us?" "I do not know. The human with us is both companion and friend. He will get them back if he can, but we need more information about what is out there." "Death." The elder said. "We have not gone into the desert in over five years because there is only death for us there." She started to turn, but Lupine caught her arm. "I cannot merely give up on my friends! Please!" The woman sighed. "Stay here. I will fetch the Queen and one who can tell you why it is death for us there." "I am waiting for my friend. If he gets the message, he will be looking for me over there." "Go then. I will bring them there." The two local Faerie flew away. ***** Rob picked up the Treo and read the message. "I have to go out." "Why?" Dawn looked at the message. "No, I will go. Maybe this will give you what you need, but you need sleep." "Sleep?" He shook his head. "I have to know what to do when we do have a location. I just wish I had more firepower." "Then rest at least. Kimberly and I are night owls, we'll go to bed around dawn. So you get some rest while we carry the load." Rob sat. He had been awake since six AM LA time, and the drive and the fight had drained him. "All right." He handed her the phone. "Throw that away somewhere public." "What?" "Modern phones have GPS chips installed. They can trace it. Wipe it down good first." He took the Treo out, removing the battery. ***** Runningfox opened his phone. Sanchez was on speed dial, and he hit the number. No answer. He tried again. He signalled to Morgan, who began tracing the cell phone's location with the GPS locator in it. "Downtown. Approaching the bus station." Morgan brought up the map. "Alert team ready to move in five minutes. We're going in hot." ***** Dawn parked outside the internet Cafe. Across the street the black pyramid of Luxor gleamed in the light. She stepped from the car, looking around. The Fairy would not be where most would be looking. She would be hidden. Dawn looked up now. There were shapes moving on the building above the door, and she walked that way, pausing to bend over to tie her shoe. "Lupine?" There was nothing. "Lupine, Rob sent me." She sighed. It was almost dawn and she was tired. It had been a long night, and she didn't need this too! She stood, looking up. A figure moved. The Fairy looked as tired as she was, bruised as if she had been through the wars. But the sword in her hand was steady. "Where is he?" "At my apartment with Thistle and Kimberly. We must hurry, he is falling apart with the worry." Suddenly there were nine Faerie there. Dawn looked at the four leveled crossbows, but did not move. "You have no reason to trust me. But for the lives of your friends, please, try." Lupine put the sword away. As she did the bows dropped. "I met some people who might be able to give us some information." ***** Runningfox looked at the central bus station, and dialed the base. "Give me a location." "Fifteen meters in front of you. Bearing 251 magnetic." Morgan replied. He looked at the little compass ball, and scanned until he was looking down the bearing. There was no one there. There was, however a trashcan. He signalled the others to stay in their vehicles, and walked toward it, phone to his ear. Location now?" "Right in front of you. Try five feet!" He lifted the lid. The phone had been thrown in, and he picked it up. "No joy. Just the phone. Check the police computer." He stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Okay, two murders at the Venetian. One security guard, two in the chest. One civilian no ID knifed and his neck snapped. Fit's Sanchez. "Put one of our tracers on it. If they have a suspect, track but do not apprehend." "Right. How about Secret Service this time?" "Have fun." He considered. The guy had spotted him and Larsson on approach. He'd almost taken out Sanchez too. He was good. Too good. Explanations Rob spun, gun tracking as Dawn came up the stairs. He lowered it, the safety clicking back on. A horde of Fairy (He'd have to come up with a name for a group. Call it a Fair) rose up behind him, settling on the dining room table. He stood, walking over. Lupine looked like hell. "I failed, Rob. I didn't get the bag cut open fast enough-" "Don't beat yourself up over it. If we both start crying about failing we'll be here all day, and nothing will get done." He sat, holding his hand out, and gently tousled her hair with a finger. "We also have news." One of the Fairy said. "I am Hyssop, the