Joanna free porn video

This is a follow on to Luciana. It would help if you've read that. Can someone who is not who they were be trusted? Will retracing your steps solve anything, when nothing is the same... and should you try? It is not always possible to walk away even if you want to. The past is always there. There is some darkness, violence and general nastiness... so as before, be forewarned. Apologies if the Italian phrases are not exactly correct. Blame Google. This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected. Copyright KLS 2007. Joanna By Kristina.L.S. Prologue ... Closure A simple word, but pathetically inadequate when placed against the pain and suffering it was meant to assuage. Did it mean anything when measured against individual suffering? Almost certainly not. It was a word that was tossed about by those that had no empathy, or even remote understanding of what it was supposed to represent. A pithy and useless expression of the generally accepted, '...well that's finished, so get on with it'. Utterly useless and insensitive. But it fitted with a 90 second grab on the evening news. Pain as Jo knew very well had few limits. Time might soften the effect, but it did not end it. Only death could do that. The ultimate defeat. No one escaped. It was only a question of when you surrendered or were defeated. But then there was the possibility that that very surrender could be welcomed with open arms as the alternative became impossible. To live, a generally accepted imperative, excepting religious zealots. The fact that almost all religions decried suicide or martyrdom as non- doctrine was irrelevant. If you chose to believe... it was true. The problem was Jo no longer knew whether what she believed was what 'she' believed. And so she sat on the large flat rock 30 metres from her own back door and looked at the relatively simple mechanical device that could expel a steel projectile at more than 700m per second into her brain and thus STOP... everything. A simple squeeze to the point that a given pressure was established and the mechanism released, dropping the metal point of the hammer against the centre point of a metal cartridge igniting the contained mixture of powdered chemicals. And so... perhaps not quicker than thought... but quick enough... perhaps... The silky black head that insinuated it's way under her right armpit, closely followed by the soft warm tongue licking her cheek pulled her thoughts back to something resembling sanity. She sucked in breath with a choked off sob mingled amidst the inhale. Her eyes lifted to the sky across the shadowy treetops and she guessed it was around 4.30. There was just the faintest tinge of light to indicate dawn was approaching. She hefted the Sig and weighed it in her hand, sighed again and headed into the house. She emerged a few moments later wearing a crop top, old track pants and seemingly older runners. As the just visible dog danced and spun in anticipation she stretched for a few minutes and then with a soft, "Come on Sab, let's see if a run will chase away the ghosts", headed slowly at first down the path and picking up speed began a familiar circuit. 1. It was a cool spring evening and her clothes were not particularly conducive to keeping warm. They had one purpose, to attract potential punters. The 3inch heels, short flirty skirt and tight lycra top were for the viewers benefit, not the wearers. Joanna paced the small stretch of 'the wall' that she had been allotted and swore under her breath. This was not what she had expected when Justin had convinced her to rejoin the team. This was not what she did. A lowly street hooker con game. Shit, this was rookie stuff. Some raw kid straight from the academy wanting to get a foot in the undercover door, that's who should be standing here. Not her. What galled even more was the assumption by 'the powers that be' that 'she' was perfectly suited for this case. Jo snorted quietly as she remembered Justin's face as he laid out the sting. As he became more flustered and embarrassed as she became more angry and embarrassed. As he, almost, apologised for putting her in this situation. Shrugged, he had no choice. Nor did she if she wanted back in. Implicit was the higher ups distrust of 'her'. It was plain without being said that 'the powers that be' were not sure she could be trusted, at all. She was not who she was. She had been under 'outside control' for nearly a year. She, was, not, who, she, was. Who knew what she would do in a given situation. She had to prove herself. And that was where her anger dissipated. If the truth be known she was not all that sure either. It had been 6 months since she had been 'repatriated' and the whole surrealistic situation would have had her scoffing... had she not lived it. The nights were the worst. Bec had been, understanding... at first. It was not as if she had not tried to adjust to Joanna. She had done everything anyone could expect and then some, but... Her mind drifted to a night a few weeks ago. The wee small hours when demons walked and those without hope gave up... as always the realisation of another in the bed...Pete smiled to himself and stretched as the ultimate spontaneous expression of male lust and given the 'other presence' love, intermingled with desire so that one was indistinguishable from the other. As he revelled in the rampant expression of that desire, felt the tension of his thrusting member almost demanding accommodation; he began to reach to gently rouse... ...and that was when reality intruded and 'she' stumbled from bed, shaking and drenched in fear. Sobbing with loss and an inexpressible anguish at what would never be again. Memory as painful as a hot iron pressed to tender flesh. How did you fight your own mind? Did 'she' even own her own thoughts anymore? It might seem a ridiculous question, but in her case, perhaps not. Bec had done all any one person could do. She had comforted and held tight as sobs wracked the tall muscular woman... but after a dozen, twenty, fifty such nights she had crept to another room and tried to sleep. And though that had hurt more than any dream or remembered pain, could anyone blame her. Jo most certainly could not. During the day though things were different it was not that big a thing. Minor differences in clothing; underwear that no one would see. Make up; a pain, but accepted as necessary for 'appearance' sake almost despite the subconscious urge to be... perfect. Subtle changes in others perceptions and expectations. Feelings, modes of expression. Different, but not that far from what had been. But at night, when she slept, battle would commence. In truth she no longer knew what was her and what had been imposed. Even looking back at what had gone before, decisions and unquestioned choices now were filtered through a; is this really me or..., type process. And as she had been told by Dr Franklin, that way lay madness and destruction. But even he had admitted to not fully knowing, let alone understanding what 'Pete' had gone through. Talked about post-traumatic stress and pondered various medications, something Jo railed against. But facts had to be faced. Pete no longer existed. Either Joanna acknowledged a different reality or succumbed to a self-imposed purgatory and that lead to madness or self destruction. Should that occur... 'they'... 'SHE', would have won. No second prize she sniffed unconsciously, with a self-mocking sneer. Her thoughts were dragged back to the present as the 'girl' she suspected was behind the robbery set ups lead a slightly nervous business type into the small Private Hotel that 'provided' the facilities, namely a bed and a bathroom. There were several 'suites' that the girls used. Jo shadowed and as soon as she was sure which room they were headed for made the signal to the two back ups in the car down the block and followed up. If this followed the MO they had figured out through interviews with 'victims' there would be a few minutes discussion to work out the details of what and how much, after the initial contact outside. Occasionally at this point the punter got cold feet or was too cheap and it ended there. It was as she hung his jacket in the walk in robe that she would lift his wallet and scan any ID, cards and licence and as he poured a drink or got comfortable on the bed she would also make impressions of any keys she found while theoretically touching up the lippy. This was not essential, but it did help confuse the issue if there was no 'break in'. Just a robbery or maybe an insurance scam? Cops being suspicious types liked simple greed as a motive. Whether a thief or the supposed victim was often the first question they asked themselves. The team had already done their work and every move in that room was covered by 6 separate cameras simultaneously recorded on a split screen with each able to be pulled up and viewed as desired. This time they were ahead of the game and once they had the 'film' evidence they could appraise the punter and gently coerce him into cooperating with them setting up the same surveillance in his home. Then... seldom more than a few days later this could be wrapped up. All bar the legal crap of lawyers and trials anyway. Dot the I 's and triple cross your T's and hope nobody farted at the wrong moment and gave some slimy creep a chance to say... 'see, it was all a set up'. But that wasn't her job. It was end-phase for her involvement. Three weeks of strutting around and picking up other cops, who usually didn't manage to hide the smirk, to keep her cover as she studied the layout and narrowed the field to this point, sting time. After tonight... once more. To make an arrest. A small dot on the urban landscape, a point of difference that might make it worthwhile. Assuming everything else went as it should. Regardless of her thoughts on the why's of what she was doing in this instance, there was still that buzz of entering enemy territory unseen and unknown. Blending and observing, making it possible for the rest of the team to do their thing and ultimately catch the bad guys. Small time in this case, but still worthwhile. She snorted again, ' ...sure just tell yourself that you make a difference. Soon you'll be back at the top', as she made sure that everything went to plan. Everyone was where they should be. She made her way out, brushing past a would-be suitor with a leery, "...sorry lover I've got an appointment". She signalled that all was a go and headed away to the rendezvous, a small caf? two blocks away. She sat and sipped a cappuccino and ignored the contemptuous looks of the conservative matrons at a nearby table. It was almost an hour later as she sat daydreaming that Justin sat opposite and smilingly nodded and confirmed that all was well. With a sigh she nodded back and they headed out. She grabbed his elbow as he turned to respond to a rather cutting remark from one of the 'ladies' regarding sluts and their conquests. They drove back to 'the office' in near silence and then with minimal conversation and a short dictated de-brief she changed clothes and headed home. Once again she over-road the desire to stop and get a bottle to anaesthetise the night. Bec was not home when she got there and she was angry at herself for the slight relief that knowledge gave. Another wave of self induced contempt washed her as she shut off and flicked the stand on the old Honda 500. 'Self pitying cow, get it together or you'll lose the best... maybe only chance at being happy...'. As she pulled off the helmet Sabina surged into view and danced in circles until she knelt and received the obligatory licking and led the way inside. It was little after 8 and the last of the suns rays were hanging in the air as she set about prepping a light meal for the 3 of them. It would be another hour before Bec got home. Salad and Tuna for her and Bec and a rice, Science Diet, trim off cut mix for Sab. Then breaking all the 'head of the pack rules' fed Sab hers and sat and half watched half daydreamed as she ate. 2. The half formed desire, need, to return to work had caused more than a bit of friction. Bec was terrified of losing Jo to that amorphous entity she had worked for. A shadowy offshoot of the Federal police that demanded complete obedience and loyalty to any that chose to serve. Strange hours and often extended 'tours', that wrought havoc with any home life that might exist. That alone was enough for Bec to fear. But the burden of knowing what had come because of that devotion, impacting Bec and 'Pete' to twist and abuse their lives without a backward look and then show suspicion... almost contempt at 'her' desire to continue with what she knew. What she knew she was very good at. That lack of trust burned and yet... There had been no overt displays of anger or threats of departure. At first Bec had been supportive, even happy. This after all was what Pete had done for years before they had met. So despite some trepidation caused by 'history' she was happy when Jo had finally said yes to Justin and gone through the various tests and evaluations to rejoin that small group that had been her life for many years. But the incremental feeling of isolation and mistrust, fear even of what had befallen a comrade, had slowly eroded Jo's joy at being accepted back. Slowly Bec had almost against her will come to detest that which had in the past sustained Jo. And for Jo the gradual slide into a meek acceptance of a 'lesser' role grated and against her will Bec had borne the brunt of it. Discrimination, glass ceilings, subtle condescension had all been hypothetical theories... until suddenly you found yourself on the wrong side of the fence and had to live it. Even Justin, her closest friend within the agency and the person largely responsible for her being back had shown a propensity to see 'woman' rather than 'agent'. Certainly not one that he had known and trusted, more than once, with his life. When Jo had called him on it he had at first denied... and then slumping slightly in his chair conceded it was probably true. She was not Pete. Whether she was good, or not... she was a woman and therefore needed more... help, looking out for, caution in speech and action. It wasn't quite them and us... but that was part of it. A macho bastion that did not know what to do with an interloper, especially one like her. Even knowing, acknowledging it, did not change anything. She was not Pete. Pete was one of the guys. Now Jo was one of a very few front line women in the field and the geological shift was a long way off. Her thoughts wandered... at the first tentative steps of rejoining they had both been nervous. But both, for probably different reasons wanted to see Jo back, living and 'participating' as part of the society that both gave and sheltered and rejected and hurt. Once the decision had been made to dip a toe in the water the first problem struck. Home was not convenient to 'the office' and Bec used the car most days to get to and from the school. A casual stroll through town one afternoon had shown an old bike in the corner of the workshop where everyone got fuelled or repaired. A 70's vintage Honda needing work and registration. The idea of solo travelling appealed, not to mention the price... which was only $800. After a bit of haggling it was loaded onto a trailer and deposited under a temporary tarp strung from the corner of the house. A manual, some hired tools, lots of phone calls to sympathetic 'bike nuts', assorted skinned knuckles and copious swearing and finally, it was ready. In the meantime she had passed the tests and had a provisional license. A once over with a few adjustments from a good mechanic and she was on the road, 'born to be wild... shit, what a crock'. Peace. That was what it meant. Especially late at night. The almost fluid roll and sway as the bike effortlessly cruised the roads from city to home. Relative quiet. No music or distractions from others. Once the mechanics of riding were somewhat ingrained and her natural observational skills kept her out of any likely trouble from other road users it was almost like meditating. Similar to flying she thought... and in no way comparable to riding in a car. At least part of the title of 'that' book made sense even if the rest was a mess. Her mind roamed for another half hour until the noise of a car pulling up out front drew her back from wherever she'd been. It was another few minutes before Bec appeared in the room, tired but as always energised by the interplay with the 'kids' she taught. This was one of the regular drama nights. Outside the curriculum but part of the program to develop young minds and bring about thoughtful, intelligent and hopefully educated young adults. The mostly 14, 15 and 16 year olds doted on their teacher and friend. There were a few that drew back or requested another... particularly after the relationship with Bec and Jo had become known. She had done everything she could to keep Jo from knowing of the occasional 'attack' she had endured. She had not completely succeeded but had expected that. She was able to downplay the few incidents that had caused some hurt... she was far more concerned with Jo's state of mind. A few mindless idiots attacking her character was nothing. Most were either accepting or indifferent, which amounted to the same thing... no problem. The few... well... Jo became aware of a figure standing and looking at her. "Hey hon. How was the Shakespeare?" There was no immediate answer and she raised her eyes to look more closely at Bec's face. The obvious pleasure of her night was muted with worry that etched small lines around those soft blue eyes. The tension and guilt Jo felt was wiped by a sudden sadness that she could inflict this on the one person she loved beyond all others. 'You self centred bitch!' The words flashed through her mind as she rose and hugged the smaller woman in an attempt to reassure and connect. Somewhere in the back of her head was a stray thought that despite everything she actually thought and referred to herself as female. Which was sort of strange considering. It was and was not... true. Bec hugged Jo tight for a moment and then pushed her back to arms length and searched her face for a sign of... what? Peace, acceptance? The worry and fear she tried to hide was not hidden at all and Jo felt a wave of revulsion that she was the cause. Bec deserved better than this sham of a relationship. Despite the protestations Jo could not believe that this... what, 'lesbian' pairing was what Bec wanted and likely needed. She wanted children... and that was no longer possible, at least with Jo. Adoption was not even considered. Neither wanted a child that had no connection to them beyond a vague desire to feel wanted, perhaps needed by someone, something that had to go both ways. Besides... what agency would even consider them with such an 'odd' relationship. After all, successful, heterosexual, carefully vetted couples had enough trouble. Let alone a strange 'gay' pairing that had other problems. Bec was the first to break the tense silence. "So... how did it go today? Catch the bad guys in the act? Make the city safe for us law-abiding citizens? " With a shake of her head she pulled back. "Sorry. That sounded really bitchy. I know you need to do this and it is worth doing. I just have a little trouble believing the people that demand so much of you and give so little are worth it. And I'm not so sure that the vast majority of those same law-abiding citizens would not agree with the suspicions of your so-called superiors if they were asked. My faith in the general goodness of human nature has been just slightly shaken in recent months." She sighed and took a deep breath as Jo gazed at her face with a mix of pain and sorrow taking turns at washing her features. Bec swore under her breath realising a touch of hysteria was creeping into her voice. "Live and let live, what crap. The vast majority neither know nor care what you might have done or suffered on their behalf. They just see one of 'those', a weirdo that thinks he's a woman. Utter rubbish of course. I mean what sane man could even think such a thing let alone believe it. And a woman thinking she's a man... utterly preposterous. Genetics and nature don't lie, not to mention God. Delusional psychos the lot of you. Grow up Joanna... be a man. That's what you are after all." The tears were running down Bec's face as she tried to stop herself. But the pain and fear... and oh yes... anger, was too much. Jo gathered her in a hug and tried to touch her with thought as well as physical presence. Bec squeezed her lover tight as her emotions ran rampant. "Those sanctimonious bastards. They use you and almost get you killed. They blithely sit back and say your loyalty is now questionable. Never mind that you were brainwashed and almost killed not to mention physically abused beyond what most could survive. You are damaged goods because their intelligence system failed. They dropped the ball and it almost killed you. But of course it's your fault. How dare you let yourself be taken. I mean aren't you trained to avoid that. So they're obviously right... you are no longer up to it. You useless bitch... sorry bastard. Sir not ma'am despite appearances and general physical reality." Bec pulled away and tried to still her thoughts as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. She paced back and forth as Jo watched sadly. She knew it hurt, Jo's expression told her that very eloquently, but she was powerless to stop now the dam had been breached. And a small part of her wanted to hurt Jo... because some tiny part of Bec and maybe whatever was left of Pete was agreeing with the twisted logic of it all. "They use you, demean you, relegate you to beginner status and waste all your skill and knowledge because they fear you. I mean if you can be twisted and broken down to a 'lowly female' what chance those pathetic desk jockeys should anyone ever question their masculinity, let alone.... And now they want me to resign because I'm a bad influence on the minds of growing children. Living in a gay relationship with a deviant who isn't even a real woman, which somehow makes it worse. God damn them all to hell!!" The anger dissipated like fog and she slumped sobbing against Jo who had taken two paces and wrapped her in a hug, shushing softly as tears ran down her own face. 'So', thought Jo as she tried to ease Bec just by holding her. 'Someone has decided the best and one of the most popular teachers they've had in years was now suddenly a bad influence on impressionable minds. All because of her. All the rest was there in the background but now the whispering cowards that pretended moral superiority had attacked the core of Becs being. She was a teacher. It was part of her and had been since childhood. And they sought to take that because they found her morally questionable.' What they thought of Jo was probably not repeatable. "Come on hon. We'll work it out. You can beat them just by being who you are. There will be some who can't or won't see anything outside a narrow view of what is or is not 'acceptable behaviour'. But most know better or at least will not just react blindly. You are one of the best in that place as most acknowledge. As long as I stay in the background it should be fine..." " Yes! That's just the damn point isn't it. You... we, have to pretend and play the game just to placate some... ideal. A false reality to reinforce an imaginary comfort zone. I just..." "Come on Bec let's have dinner it's all ready. We don't have to fight them all at once. Nor do we hide. Just go gently and try not to rub anyone's face in it. I guess we come under the 'Gay couple' banner. So public accommodations have to be made unless you want to spend your life fighting prejudicial battles. Those that might have accepted would likely go to the other side if things become uncomfortable. When you're outnumbered thousands to one, direct confrontation is usually not a good idea. We just have to accept certain limitations on public affection or ultimately, they will win." "Yes. I know you're right, but... It's just not right or fair, or..." Her voice trailed off as she took a breath and nodding, half smiled, although it had a tinge of bitterness to it. "Oh Jo, I know you're right... and usually I can roll with it. Just when I saw my whole career being threatened because of something you or I did not want and could not control... well. It just tore me up. I tried to hide it from you, but... I know you have it harder than me in most respects. Those dreams tell me that if nothing else. It seemed we were going to be Ok... and then the last few months it's begun to fall apart. I, ah, actually started to think we might not make it and that lunatic bitch would win after all. I love you, but... sometimes I wonder if that will be enough. It's just so hard." Her eyes locked onto Jo's and silently begged for the strength she knew was in that body. The blend of athleticism and mental discipline that had allowed Pete to survive at all. She saw the battles Jo went through with memory and what would normally be mundane trivia that an average girl would just shrug at. But of course this situation was not 'average' in any sense. Jo was largely together and sane, which was in itself a miracle, but... Her eyes begged Jo to hold it together and become who she now was, wholly and without reservation. Dr Franklin had talked to her at length that that was the key to Jo becoming whole and free of the horror. She whispered and Jo only just heard..." please Jo accept who you are now. Be free of it and love me." She whispered back as she gently pulled Becs head to her chest, "I will Bec I will. Somehow we will be Ok. Come on..." she softly kissed the tears from Becs eyes, lifted her gently and carried her through to the bedroom. Dinner would keep. 3. Jo awoke as the first hint of light drifted through the window, almost 5am. She stretched gently so as not to disturb Bec and gave a quick peck on the cheek which raised a soft mumble and slight reposition in her sleep. Jo slipped out to find Sabina waiting and ready to run. Donning her gear she mused on the previous night... They had made love... slowly, languorously and she had made sure Bec had felt everything she could make her feel. Her own experience was... less, but still enjoyable. If she could truly let it all go just maybe this could work. At least there had been no dreams to destroy the nights mood. She ran through a slow kata to get the blood flowing as Sabina sniffed her way around the yard impatiently. After about 20 minutes she began the familiar circuit down along the dirt road and into the bush tracks that surrounded the property with Sabina bounding along joyfully. He lowered the rifle and placed it in the shaped foam bed of the guitar gig bag as the tall one disappeared into the trees. Sniffed the air and mentally measured the breeze. Almost dead still. 'As they said goodbye for the day at the car, in approximately 2 hrs,' he decided. Set the buzzer alarm on his watch and settled himself to doze and simply relax. Tense was no good... but this would be all too easy. A simple shot of 250 metres. He once again pondered his brief. Quite specific, if a little unusual, but the money had been paid so... 'his not to wonder why...', he smiled to himself. After just 14 days, which was nothing for this sort of job, he would be done in a few hours. His initial survey had found the lay-up, routes in and out, checked the distance and within days had procured an ex army L1A1 which he stripped and rebuilt with great care. Subsequent test firing had proved that a grouping of 5cm at 300m was attainable and that was quite good enough for this assignment. He settled himself and was in the instant action, semi sleep mode of experienced combat troops in moments. She paced the clearing in the front of the house as her breathing settled and she stretched gently. Sabina was flopped on the grass with her tongue hanging out and a big grin on her face. "Sab, sometimes I think you find us humans all too amusing. You're probably right. Come on, brekky." They both headed inside and Jo started the makings of an omelette while Sab supervised from the floor in the corner. Bec had been finishing in the shower as they came inside so she would be ready to eat in a few minutes. It was 10 before Bec came into the kitchen and gave Jo a hug and kiss to the cheek. She looked more closely at the taller woman and smiled, "You seem more at ease this morning than you have been for a while. Now if I can just get you to let go completely in the bedroom it'll wash over into everything else." She grinned as the blush spread up Jo's face. "Hmmm... tonight it's my turn to be in charge missy. I'll have you screaming yet you slut." This time she laughed out loud as the blush on Jo's face deepened. With a crooked smile Jo put 2 plates of omelette and 2 mugs of coffee on the table as Sabina tucked into the scrapings over a bit of dry food. "Ooh, boots and a whip huh. Can't quite see it somehow. It was nice last night Bec. It was good to be needed and offer comfort... and I almost felt comfortable loving you like that. I don't really know why I have trouble. I mean it's not as if I haven't had a while to adjust. I suppose it's the hangover of the dreams and we pushed through that fog last night. So... maybe we're closer. Or me anyway. I know you had doubts at first but you seemed more able to get past them." Bec reached out and gripped Jo's hand. " Well I loved Pete and you are him even if you look and act a little different. All I had to get past was a slight hang-up of being with another girl. Nobody messed with my mind and body... so I had it a little easier. I did mean it when I asked you to marry me. I'm still a bit upset we can't... but we're committed and we love each other. So... we'll work it out. I just hope this is a breakthrough and we can share a bed again. I've missed the closeness." They chatted easily over breakfast and kidded each other about bondage fantasies and who got to wear the boots and do the sneering. Both knew that if they ever did explore that at all it would be totally open and sharing and pretty innocent, not some humiliation game. Neither could even begin to understand that side of things nor did they want to. "Ok hon. I better head in. Got a few things to set up and a quick test to workout. " They cleaned up the dishes and rinsed the cups as Bec grabbed her bag and headed for the door with Jo and Sabina following. "Are you going in today?" "Yes, but not till lunchtime. Got to type up the report from yesterday and check up when the final sting is likely to go down. I'll only be there for a few hours so I'll be back before you. I'll do the lamb curry, the meats marinating now." They stopped beside the car and with a quick hug and a peck to the cheek. Each saying 'love you ... see you later.' As they separated the side window of the car exploded showering them with glass. Sabina flattened herself in terror and Jo reacting on pure instinct, grabbed Bec by both arms and flung her across the bonnet of the car as she screamed in fear and possibly pain at the assault to her body. As she slipped off onto the ground on the far side Jo turned to look in the direction the shot had come from. It was definitely a shot. The crack had registered as she had grabbed Bec. It took a couple of seconds before she zeroed in on the figure standing and looking straight at her through a riflescope. She knew roughly where he was and even if she didn't die in the next few seconds there was no way to get to him quickly. She tensed and wondered would she even feel it. Then to her surprise he shouldered the weapon and gazed at her for a moment before stooping and rising again a few seconds later with some sort of bag slung over his shoulder. Then he turned and without a gesture or acknowledgement of any sort, walked away into the trees. 4. It had taken 22 minutes for the team to get there. By which time Jo had wiped Becs scrapes and put her right arm in a sling. She suspected the wrenching throw had fractured the collarbone that had been broken the year before. Bec had stopped shivering and Jo had full control of her hands once more as the adrenaline shock wore off. Sabina was pressed against her leg, giving and receiving comfort. Justin had slipped in without a word gun drawn at his side. A quick outline from Jo had sent two team members and a tech to the shooters hide while the Doc checked them both over. They were both sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee when Justin walked in a little over an hour later. Bec would go with Doc to get an x-ray while Jo would go into the office. They hugged silently and then Bec followed the Doc out to his car taking Sabina with her. They would stay at a safe house for the next week, until... Without a word Jo made 2 more cups as Justin sat at the table sitting a shell casing upright in the centre. A few minutes later she sat and they both sipped. Both of them looked at the single brass shell sitting upright between them. "Well your cars had it. The bullet shattered the console after doing the window. We got it... or what's left. Found the lay up easy enough. He's been there a few days, probably scoped things out a week or so earlier. Definitely a pro. We found that casing sitting upright on a rock, but apart from an indent where he slept, didly. He took everything, even his waste with him. No doubt has military, probably covert training. 762 mill which lends itself to the military theory as well. It looks as though he meant to miss. No way you or Bec would be standing otherwise. Which means..." "Yeah. Someone wants me to know I'm in their thoughts. Two guesses, mad Italian Doctor or mad Italian Doctor." "Yeah... So..." "Yep." "Me and Ted are in. I'll clear the time, there's nothing we have to be here for. The other guys can wrap up the hooker thing. This needs to end." "All we need to do is find her." "She's at the Bolzano house." He shrugged as Jo stared at him. "We've been keeping an eye on her movements since that last encounter. She's been clean as a whistle as far as we know, but... Anyway that's where she was day before yesterday." He got up and rinsed his cup and turned back to Jo. "I don't suppose you'll let me and Ted go in and take her out. Three days and it would be over without you getting anywhere near her. She may still have some hold on you. Doc Franklin admits he has no idea what she did to your mind, or what might still be sitting there. Just let us do it." He sighed as Jo shook her head back and forth. He'd known she wouldn't go for it. That she would have to be there. He thought about ordering her to stay and let them do it. But figured she would only go off on her own. If it was Pete sitting there he would not have intruded beyond wishing him luck and maybe offering to help. But Jo was not Pete. She might be as good, maybe more than him, once she was fully together again, women had some skills men did not after all. And Jo was a woman now, no question. He had difficulty at times connecting Pete to Joanna and he had known Pete very well. Joanna was tough to be with sometimes. She carried a haunted air, which was hardly surprising, and the threat of mental collapse or regression had worried him and the Doc despite allowing her back in. They hoped she would be helped in rehabbing herself by being back on the job. They kept her away from some jobs for that reason, but that had seemingly had the opposite effect. And now this. Maybe they could close it out for good and Jo would be back to what she, well Pete, had been. The best. He sighed again as Jo gazed into space only turning her eyes his way at the slight sound. "Ok Jo, I figured that's how you'd see it. Ted and I are flying out to Milan tonight. You're booked for 12.15 tomorrow. So, assuming we've called this right Thursday morning we go in and finish this. I hope you're up for it. Are you sure you can face her again?" "Yes I'll be fine. Whatever she did to me that hold is gone. There are some lingering programs that push me to be the perfect girl, but generally I'm fine. I know exactly when the conditioning kicks in, it's sort of a discomfort compulsion thing that increases until I fix that broken nail or whatever. I can fight it if I need to and I don't believe she has any hidden triggers to turn me into some robot. Once the drugs were out of my system her hold was gone. I am what she made me in some ways, but I am also me, far more than she wanted or intended. I'm pretty sure meeting her will affect me to some extent, but I won't freeze up or drop to my knees in supplication." "You hope." Justin muttered almost silently. 'Well, we'll see I guess.' He dropped a travel document pouch on the table that Jo opened and skimmed through with a small smile forming as she did. "Ok then. I have a connection at Beretta for weapons so that's sorted. You'll be in Milan tomorrow evening, check in and then go to that address ask for Jorge. There will be a couple of Cougar 8000 compacts with one waist and one shoulder holster, 3 spare mags for each and suppressors waiting for you. We will already have picked up one of the new Storm carbines and a 92 each, the mags are interchangeable carbine to pistol which is nice, 5 a piece of those, holsters and slings as appropriate, suppressors all round. It's about a 6 hour drive to Bolzano, we'll get kitted out when we arrive and check the intel. Ted will be point and will head straight out, laying up Tuesday night near the house. I'll be your shadow when you arrive. Then we'll see. Wednesday he and I will compare notes and update one another by phone. When I join him Thursday morning... we take the house and finish Luciana once and for all. We can adjust the timing on the run if needs be, but that's the initial outline. We can't touch her legally so this is it." Jo nodded as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just the thought of 'her' was putting her on edge. She looked at Justin and he nodded as her eyes showed that same intelligence and purpose that he knew from jobs past. She was not Pete but just maybe this would bring her back to where he had been. He hoped so. "You know this could finish us. You don't have to, you or Ted. I need to, otherwise I might never be whole again but you guys... You know I can do it. I won't like it, but it's better than living in this purgatory of hers just waiting till she decides to play again. The wills up to date should I fuck up and then it's only me that goes down." She winced slightly at the feeling of discomfort brought on by her use of an expletive, very un-lady like. "You know the answer before you ask it. You can't do this alone. We are in because we owe you and we want this over, for you and Bec. And because she messed with one of us, Pete was and Joanna is. Then there's the why..." "Yeah. There is that. If we've called this wrong..." 5. She booked into the small hotel just outside the city centre, had a quick hot shower to wake and loosen up. It was a nice evening so she chose to stroll the few blocks to the small shop that specialised in the clothing, accoutrements and shotguns for hunters or skeet shooters. Basic weapons for the casual or less well heeled to highly customised special order pieces for the nobility or the simply rich. The bell tinkled as she opened the door to a tall and elegantly dressed man checking the balance of a beautifully engraved and polished over under, he casually undressed her with expressionless eyes. The shorter man in the apron smiled at her and murmured, "Un momento signora", gesturing he would attend to her shortly. She stood still and quietly returned the customers appraisal. Tall, slim and dangerous she decided. The shotgun was handed back, placed on the counter between them and a brief mumbled conversation was held. He must have felt her gaze as he turned to Jo and smiled a small amused half smile, bowed to her with a flourish and walked out the door, his movements fluid and smooth despite a likely 50 plus years. Jo could not help a small smile of her own, 'Yep dangerous alright, in more ways than one'. She liked Italians but the next guy that pinched her bum was going to get his arm broken. "Come posso essere di servizio signora?" "Sto cercando Jorge. Sono Joanna Collins, Justin Williams suggerito io parlo lui." He smiled and bowed slightly, walked to the door, flicked a closed sign and the lock, beckoning her to follow he headed through the shop and down a flight of stairs. "Your Italian is quite good but I think English, yes?" He spoke over his shoulder as they descended. "Yes that might be best." A slight smile crossed her face as she chuckled. He led the way to a long soundproofed room with a large workbench against the near wall. There were guns of all varieties scattered upon it. He reached for a pair of mid sized automatics that had several magazines and two holsters beside them. "The Cougar 8000 with custom suppressors. A fine, accurate and compact weapon, perfect for a lady such as yourself." He appraised her clothing, low heeled leather ankle boots tight jeans and a long figure hugging cowl necked sweater a 6cm wide belt at the waist. A wine skin shaped bag hung loosely on her left shoulder from a long strap. "The hip holster will work, the other you need a jacket for. We will adjust for fit though... please try a few rounds to get the feel. All the magazines have been freshly loaded." He waved at a silhouette at the far end of the room. Perhaps 20 metres. She went to slip a pair of muffs over her ears as Jorge shook his head and smiled. Shrugging she raised the pistol, judged the balance, shifted her stance and fired. A small cough and a light snick of the slide was the only sound. Any background noise would mask it easily. Her first shot was slightly off, but after a half dozen she was spot on, an under 5 cm grouping. 'Impressive', she thought. 'As nice as the Sigs she was used to and a fraction smaller and lighter. And that suppressor... wow.' She repeated with the second pistol and after 4 rounds nodded, happy. Jorge smiled at her obviously favourable impression. He quickly cleaned and reloaded both weapons as she slipped on and adjusted the shoulder harness. He handed her one of the pistols, which she slid into the holster. When she had it sitting and adjusted just right she slipped it off and handed it to Jorge who placed it and the enclosed pistol into a small leather pouch, the spare mags followed. The other, fully loaded he handed to her in its waist holster. Nodding she took it and after removing her belt clipped it just right of her spine, bunching the sweater a little to hide the slight bulge. Glancing in the mirror on the wall she turned and made sure it was not obvious. Slipped the pouch and belt into her shoulder bag and turned with a smile. "Does my bum look big in this?" She grinned at Jorge' obvious confusion. "Thank you Jorge they are perfect, I am extremely grateful. Justin said you were the best. He didn't lie." He beamed at her praise. "My pleasure entirely Signora. Any friend of Signore Justin... I am surprised we have not met before. He said you were old friends and had worked together for many years." "Ah, well I work mainly undercover, whereas Justin is more visible. So he has far more direct dealings with other agencies than I do. You have obviously dealt with our lot before... you are affiliated? Sorry, don't answer if that is a problem." "No. Not at all I have connections with several local and foreign agencies. Indeed your presence here is overseen by the Gruppo." He smiled at her look of incomprehension. "The Gruppo di Intervento Speciale, a branch of the carabinieri. Something between Swat and Criminal Intelligence. Not dissimilar to your own SAS but with considerably broader local powers." He shrugged, "Your presence is condoned... unofficially. The Doctore has overstepped more than once and has lost her protected status. But of course, I never said that and you were never here. You need not worry about the weapons, they are untraceable, discard freely if needs be. May I offer you an espresso...? I have this delightful blend..." He kissed his pressed together fingertips and flared them wide, gesturing her ahead of him, up the stairs. They sat in his small office adjoining the showroom and she smiled politely as he flirted almost unconsciously. He was charming and made a fine coffee, if a little strong. He sighed melodramatically as she signalled she must leave, thanked him again as he bowed and theatrically kissed the knuckles of her right hand. She laughed aloud as he smiled widely, showed her to the door and with a flourish closed it behind her. Still smiling she headed up the street, back to the Hotel. 6. She had gone only a hundred metres, turned the first corner and was instantly aware of 3 figures angling in from different sectors. 'Corsicans... Algerians... Union Corse? In Italy?' She stopped as another larger figure stood centred in the street ahead, a large pistol pointing straight at her. She ducked, dropping her bag and rolled to her left, pulling the pistol from her waist. She caught the spark of the dart as it struck the cobbles just beside her as her own pistol spat. The large man buckled and dropped silently. She spun again to confront the other 3 only to see 2 down and the other sprinting away down a narrow alley. Justin swung his weapon in an arc to shoot only to see the third man drop and slide into the alley wall. Both glanced at each other to assure all was well and with a question. That was answered as the tall slim man from the shop appeared from a shadowed doorway, pistol held at his side. He smiled at them both and then waved several times as though brushing them away. Justin smiled and nodded. "Come on Jo, let's go." She glanced between the 2 men and with a small nod of her own, holstered her weapon, brushed some dirt off her sweater, picked up her bag and recommenced the interrupted journey. Neither said a word until they were back in Jo's room. She ordered a light supper for 2 and a local bottle of red. Then turned to Justin with a questioning gaze. "Well... it seems we were right. She was expecting you. Those thugs just didn't expect you to be that alert... and they certainly didn't expect me. That, ah, gentleman you just met is Colonel Silvestro Santini, one of the top boys in the Gruppo. I knew he was aware of us... didn't expect him to be roaming about in back alleys though." "Hmm, he was at the gun shop. Headed out as I came in, so I guess he was watching and maybe wanted a look at me close up. Jorge mentioned the Gruppo and that they had given unofficial sanction to our presence." She stopped as a wide smile spread across Justin's face. "What?" The smile widened. "You mean you got more than three words out of Jorge? Damn... you must have, ah, impressed him." He laughed aloud as Jo scowled and blushed at the same time. The conversation was interrupted by a knock as their supper and wine was delivered. While Jo dealt with room service Justin stood on the small balcony and made a phone call. She laid out the food and poured 2 glasses as Justin returned to the room flipping his phone shut. "Just spoke to Ted. There's been virtually no movement at the house. She is definitely still there along with about a dozen others. At least 8 of those are combatants, probably armed." He paused while Jo let that sink in. After a moment she nodded and he continued. " He also says he has a way in. Rigged a door bolt and rewired the alarm switch. We can be inside in under a minute, almost certainly unobserved. I figure you go in the front door all piss and vinegar while Ted and I will sneak in the back way. If the Gods are looking our way we can finish this in a few hours tomorrow morning. Ted's snoozing as much as possible but he'll be wide-awake if there's any movement... or tomorrow morning. I'll join him at dawn and you can go in any time after that." He paused and measured his words carefully. "Are you sure Jo? I know this was in the game plan but..." "Hey come-on Justin. I can do this... no problem. This bitch needs to go down. And I owe her. It'll be fine." She poured confidence into her expression until he nodded and turned away sipping his wine to gaze out the window. Had he been watching her expression as it turned inward and flashed with fear he might well have called it off and asked for an air strike or something equally ridiculous. Jo's emotions rolled and thrashed like a cat cornered by a pack of dogs. Fear she knew... but this was something else. Somewhat irrational and unexplainable, but all too real, not incapacitating, but... 7. The hired car was parked to the side just up from the door. She had dressed carefully to show elegance and style while maintaining comfort and ease of movement. A charcoal pantsuit, she couldn't help but smile... it was Italian, over a cream silk roll neck blouse, small black shoulder bag and the same flat-soled black ankle boots. Both her holstered pistols were concealed under the tailored jacket. Spare mags clipped to her waist belt and the right under-arm strap, the remaining 2 in her bag. Overkill she thought, but better safe than sorry. If it came to a shoot out, any more than the twenty rounds her pistols held between them was likely pointless. She would probably be dead before that. Or otherwise out of action. At that thought she shivered. A smartly dressed maggiordomo answered the door at her rapping of the large lions head knocker. He showed no expression as she introduced herself and asked to see Dr Alvi... on personal business. She pushed past him and headed for the house. Startled it took a moment for him to catch up, he ushered her across a large courtyard, to a side door and into a library or sitting room. "Se lei soddisfarebbe l'attesa qui signora." He bowed stiffly and left, closing the door behind him. She pulled a compact and checked her makeup and smiled as she finished a touch up to her lips, 'perfect'. That last thought followed by a rueful shake of her head, she slipped the compact back into her bag and half turned as the door opened. Two large black suited men entered and spilt to opposite sides. The first tracked her expressionlessly, the second stopped suddenly and his eyes flared as he recognised her. He reached for his armpit as she spun and in the same movement flicked the pistol from her waist to shoulder height and fired. It caught him centre chest before his hand had cleared his lapel and the snagged weapon discharged into the chair beside him. The other, caught by surprise, dropped and rolled to a table and smacked a button on the underside. A steady, not over loud, but intrusive ring echoed through the house. He took that momentary distraction to pull his own and fire at this deadly woman. He was not a good shot... it smacked the wall a metre to her left as she swung her own, tracking his roll and dropped him to the floor with a head shot. "Shit!" She swore loudly at this turn of events. She hated killing, but they had agreed, in fact Justin had insisted... no prisoners. If guns where drawn anyone even vaguely threatening went down. No second chance, no fancy tricks, no mercy. At almost the same time she heard shots echo in another part of the house followed by a quiet stutter, the carbines she guessed. Shrugging mentally she dropped her bag and stalked out the door and began to search. Ted and Justin were very good... much better than these jokers... she hoped. Whatever the case, she and they were on their own for the moment. She searched several rooms before returning to the central foyer and looking up the stairs. Every minute or so there were a few more shots followed by another of those stutters. They seemed to be slightly separated so both were still active and hopefully gaining control. She climbed stiffly, almost in slow motion, arms out, the pistol tracking side to side, breathing regular and slow in time to the movement. She had a slight hiccup of laughter as she thought how this would look on film. 'Stupid, that's how'. But then no actor had people firing live rounds at them that were intended to kill... 'Stuff style'. The fact that no one was in sight and no one was shooting almost made her laugh out loud, '...so I look like a goose... I'm not a cooked one... yet'. She reached the top and paused, took a deep breath and spun across the hall and into an open door. Quickly searched the room and then the one next door. Something drew her to the large double doors at the end of the hall. 'There...', she knew it. She crouched outside the door and listened with every cell in her body. A small creak just inside to the right, shoe leather she guessed. 'Tsk, tsk... shouldn't wear new shoes to a gunfight'. She drew her energy and exploded it with a screamed ""Kiai!!"" The shuffled sidekick to the central lock shattered the mechanism and flung both halves of the door inward. The right side caught the guard she had heard move on the shoulder and his gun spun away across the room, she dropped him where he stood with two shots to the chest. She turned to the second but was not quick enough. He slammed her against the doorframe, stunning her and causing her own weapon to slide across the floor. A forearm smash to her neck dropped her to the floor. As he went to stamp on her she spun and flipped upright, catching him in the groin with her shoulder. He rose to tiptoe and then dropped with a wavering cry. She allowed him to half rise, spun him back to back using his own weight for leverage as they both knelt on the floor, then with her arms locked across his throat over her shoulders, tensed and surged upright and forward. The snap as his neck broke was audible. As the body dropped to the floor she vaguely registered movement of someone reaching and pulling swiftly back and down to her left. She spun breath rasping in her throat to find Luciana lunging at her with a blazing expression of... hatred? A piercing fire burst from her belly as Luciana hit her with whatever she had grabbed. Joanna stood still as pain spread up and out from the point of impact. He hands grasped at... what the hell was that? "Oh... shit... you have got to be fucking kidding?" She rasped the outraged exclamation in an exhausted whisper, the ingrained pain at the expletives overridden by numbness. Her eyes roamed the wall to see the coat of arms and a single sword. The other was currently stuck through Joanna's body and seeping bright red. She slumped to her knees and clinically noted it was not pumping dark arterial blood, so... maybe. As she dropped to her knees she looked straight at Luciana who stood with an almost contemptuous expression, glaring at Jo. "Ah Petra my dear, such a waste. I dearly wanted to have a proper chat. Get reacquainted. You left so suddenly last time. We have business to discuss, but alas..." She shrugged and poured a brandy from a decanter on the sideboard, gazing indifferently at Jo as the breath wheezed painfully from the kneeling woman. Sipping she crossed her arms across her chest clasping one elbow and holding the glass just below her mouth in a loose fingered grasp. She moved as though to sit and watch Jo die, when her head cocked at another stuttered burst, just down the stairs it seemed. Muttering under her breath, she reached for a dropped weapon and moved to Jo to give the coup de grace. Those madly flaming eyes locked on Joanna's and a feeling of inevitability and futility washed over her. She watched as Luciana sneered and raised the gun to fire point blank at her forehead. Another stuttered burst, closer this time momentarily distracted Luciana. As her gaze switched to the door Jo had a flash of Bec being hit by the car and then being sprayed with flying glass as the car window exploded. A remembered 'I love you...' echoed in her mind Jo screamed and with everything she had pulled the sword from her stomach. Dropped it to the floor and drunkenly swayed upright. Luciana was so surprised she just stood transfixed as Jo lurched forward and with everything she had punched the chin of the wavering taunting figure that stood over her. Luciana stumbled backwards, tripped on a bunched floor runner, crashed through the glass French door to a small enclosed balcony and flipped over the low railing. Jo dropped to her knees again, breath rasping, totally spent. She had no idea how long it was before she dragged herself to her feet and lurched, more sideways than straight ahead, finally through the shattered doors. She stood wavering as consciousness threatened to leave and looked over the edge at the whitened fingers and glaring face of Luciana. The burning hate and madness in those eyes caused Jo to suck in a breath and sob aloud. At that sound and a slight shift downward as the finger hold slipped those burning eyes cleared. A sad and slightly puzzled expression flitted across the beautiful features momentarily. Almost as soon as it appeared it vanished as the flickering insanity returned. Her grip failed as Jo stood utterly unable to raise a hand to help. The blazing eyes fell away silently and Jo watched as the shadowy figure bounced and flipped as it fell down into the valley several hundred metres below. She stood on wobbly legs for a moment more and gazed out at the mountains beyond. "Physician... heal thyself..." she mumbled and slumped to the floor. She was vaguely aware of Justin and Ted moving to her as though in slow motion. Ted ripped her blouse to shreds and wrapped her waist in the torn strips, laying her flat as Justin screamed into his phone. Darkness engulfed her. 8. Jo gazed out the window at the shadowy eucalypts waving languidly in the slight evening breeze. She felt an unaccounted nervousness, Bec was up to something. It was her 34 th birthday and that little blonde devil had promised a present to remember. It was two months since her return from Italy and apart from some tenderness and residual stiffness in the puncture points she was fine. She had been relieved to hear that Becs collarbone was not broken, only sprained. Her mind wandered as she waited for whatever evil scheme was hatching in the other room to be revealed. It seemed the Colonel had been surreptitiously backstopping them. As Ted had attempted to stop the bleeding and Justin had dialled there was an unmarked ambulance with 2 paramedics on the way. As soon as he heard Justins voice it was moving as was a team of his own... just to begin investigations, of course. She had woken in a strange room to find the Colonel sitting in an armchair and reading the paper. He glanced up to see her awake and made a disparaging remark about clumsy foreigners. Folded the paper and stepping across dropped it on the bed inviting her to read. He then bowed slightly and with that same sardonic expression she remembered form the shop, left. A nurse had bustled in and in broken English had explained she was in a Private Hospital under the auspices of the Colonel, which meant the Gruppo and had been treated by a top surgeon and should recover fully. She would remain here for a probable 2 weeks. "If you need anything..." gesturing at the small wired buzzer as she left. Basic questions answered Jo fumbled through the paper. Reading was tougher than speaking and she didn't speak all that well. It seemed she had been here for 3 days. A piece on page two described the Carrabinieri investigations into a criminal raid on the villa of the renowned Dottore Alvi, resulting in her death and the deaths of several business associates. Promising leads, dah, dah, dah, early arrest likely, dah, dah, dah. No mention of clumsy foreigners or the Gruppo. She lowered the paper and shook her head softly only then becoming aware of the vase of flowers and a small card sitting on a table to her left. She stiffly slid out of bed and carefully stepped to them and read the card. 'Signora Joanna I drink an espresso in your honour. Get well soon. Jorge.' Smiling she had stumbled back to bed and slumped gratefully. 'No walking just for the moment girlie.' Justin and Ted had visited a little while later and filled in the blanks. Everything was covered, they were clear. Bec was fine and back home. They flew out that afternoon. It was another 12 days before she followed. The Colonel had driven her to the airport, said barely 2 words. As she turned to head for the boarding gate he spoke. " Avere un Collins di agente di volo piacevole. Lei ? benvenuto qui in qualunque momento." He bowed deeply and walked away without another word. Home. Soon, she sighed and settled into her seat. The following 2 months had been quiet and gentle. She recouped and they were happy. The car had been fixed, better than 'new' and Bec was back teaching and loving it. All apparent sins forgiven or forgotten. Joanna was off for another month... and then, back in. Her thoughts returned to the present as a clip clip sound coming down the hall reached her ears. The vision that greeted her eyes caused a gasp of astonishment. Bec stood in the doorway wearing what could only be described as a Dominatrix outfit. High, spike heeled boots, glossy tight lace up dress, all black. Dark red lips and nails, hair slicked back into a tight bun. She had a stern expression on her face as she slapped a riding crop against her thigh. "Well missy. I did say I was going to make you scream next time." It took another few seconds before Joanna could react and she did. Laughter erupted as she shook and almost fell off the lounge. She gasped as a small stab hit her middle and tears rolled down her face, more hysterics than pain. Bec to her credit held the pose for almost a minute before she too burst into laughter and gently threw the crop at the by now floor sitting Joanna. "What? You don't like the new look? I wonder if I can get my money back from the hire shop. Can you believe they even have a Dom section?" She managed to gasp out between bubbles of laughter. "Oh Bec... I do love you. But I have to say... you, ah, make a lousy Dominatrix. Attitude dear, you need attitude." The laughter bubbled for several more minutes as they cuddled on the floor and wiped each others tears. Eventually Bec led the way to the bedroom, the crop left unnoticed on the floor, took charge and... well if not a scream it was a moan... of pleasure. Some time later, more than a little dishevelled they lay in each others arms, at peace. "Happy 34 Joanna my love. I think we're going to be fine. Just fine." ~~~ FINI ~~~ Any thoughts or comments I can be contacted - [email protected] Anything short of abuse welcome.