Five Hertz Of Separation (chapters 41-45 Of 61) free porn video

CHAPTER FORTY ONE It was easier to talk after Pegues left the room. "Tell me, Lee. What's it like being a boy?" "It's so strange, Mother. I'm stronger and faster and louder. People pay attention to me." "Tell me about it. What do you think about wearing pants?" "It's summer. A dress would be cooler but Mr. Pegues wouldn't allow it." Thank you, Miran. "He's right about that, Lee. Your father, on the other hand ..." "Do not be foolish, Alexia." "Awwww come on, Johnathyn. I'm sure you've got the legs for it. Don't you think your father is beautiful, Leeanna?" She giggled despite the look Johnathyn gave her. "Yes, Mother, she's very beautiful. You're quite handsome too." "Well thanks, Leeanna. I've always thought you had good taste. Maybe we can find the time to go dress shopping for your father while you're here." "Do not bother," he grumbled. "We will not be here that long. We need to return home as quickly as possible." "You are coming with us, aren't you, Mother?" What do I say? How can I leave them again? "I'll need to talk about that with your father." "Please, Mother! You must return with us! We all need you so badly. I need you!" Damn Pegues! He shouldn't have involved them. He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew that I'd see right through it and that it wouldn't matter one iota that I knew it. He's a conniving bastard! "Leeanna, there is a lot to consider. Yes, I want to come home with you and your father ..." "Then just do it, Mother! What else matters?" "Leeanna, it's late. We'll talk about it in the morning. Mrs. LaRouche said that you could use the apartment next to this one and ..." "NO! I don't want to leave you! Not after we just found you after all this time!" So much for a little alone time between me and Johnathyn. "We'll just be across the hall, Lee. I'll even leave the doors unlocked. You can come over if ..." "No. Please, Mother." He's right. He is louder as a boy. Johnathyn steps in. "Perhaps, for tonight, we all sleep in this room," he suggests. "Where? On the couch and the chair?" "No, on the floor. We did it for months in the wagon. We bring in some bedding and it will be just like old times but not so cold." I think Johnathyn is worried about being alone with me, what with the roles being reversed. I bet he's concerned about what I may insist on doing with him. To be honest, it's been on my mind ever since we found each other in the Park. He is beautiful, in a female super hero kind of way. In the right outfit, he'd be the hit of Comic Con. I can remember how nervous I was when I first entered that world, how long it took me to accept what I was and how much longer it took for me to embrace it. Johnathyn isn't ready for that. I'll give him this one. "Alright. I'll go see what I can find and we can make camp out here tonight but neither of you better snore now." * * * *** * * * *** * * * Thank Zaphod Alexia agreed to my suggestion. I have been both anticipating and dreading seeing her since crossing over to this world. I knew exactly what would happen. Alexia had been quite clear about it when we first met, as had been Pegues, both back then and when he had approached me weeks ago about trying to get Alexia to return. I had been the greatest supporter of the plan. No, Leeanna had been the greatest supporter but I was right in line after her. I reasoned that I could handle the change. If Pegues could do it, I certainly could also. Alexia had a great deal of difficulty at first but she had been surprised, unprepared. I also knew that it was for a short time, until we found Alexia and persuaded her to return with us or we failed in our quest. I thought for certain that I was both logically and emotionally prepared to become a woman. The moment I stood up after landing on the ground in this world, I realized how wrong I was. Everything I knew was turned upside down. Leeanna was running around, celebrating the first step of our big plan and I was rooted in place, terrified. If she had not been here, I would have demanded that Pegues return me immediately to my world and proceed without me. I could not face this new, challenging world as a weak woman. Pegues sensed my reluctance and did what she could to encourage me however; it was Leeanna's enthusiasm that drove me forward. How could I tell her that her father was unwilling to face what she did every day of her life, that being a woman was intolerable to me? I concentrated on attempting to locate Alexia. Then it occurred to me that should we succeed and find Alexia, she may wish to greet me as a husband does his wife. The thought of doing that to her had greatly brightened my days before crossing over but the realization quickly struck me once completing the journey that I would now be the one receiving and not giving. The thought horrified me yet I still longed to see my wife again. It was all so confusing. Leeanna was not burdened with my conflicting emotions. She was focused on only one thing, finding her mother. It was all that I and Pegues could do to keep her from spending every moment in that search. He managed to distract her occasionally by showing her the wonders of this world. I must admit that I too was able to forget my fears several times for a few hours when we visited what she called an "Airport" to watch these simply enormous machines take flight or when we traveled under the ground riding the "Subway," though I attracted a great deal of unwanted attention while riding on that machine. Pegues seemed to enjoy my discomfort, assuring me that my current appearance was pleasing to the eye. I would have chastised him if we were not effectively at his mercy. This continued for almost two weeks until I was approached by a particularly handsome man while watching Leeanna play with some other children. We had visited this particular spot several times since arriving in New York in an attempt to use up some of Leeanna's newly found energy, the abundance of which was driving both myself and Pegues to distraction. While normally the attentions of a man would have been cause for me to withdraw or possibly strike out if he was sufficiently persistent, this time, a feeling of calm came over me, of peace, of contentment. It was wholly different than any feeling I had experienced since coming to this world, since Alexia and I had been forced to separate. The joy of discovering each other overwhelmed all other feelings until I found myself alone with Alexia and Leeanna as the end of the day rapidly approached, at which time all the fears of what Alexia might expect me to do came flooding back. I knew that with Leeanna present, nothing serious could happen between us so I proposed that we all sleep together as we did before in our travels. I was ever so thankful when Alexia agreed, though it was clear she was reluctant to do so. I am momentarily confused when I wake up in the dead of night. I can hear the mechanical hum of a machine called an "Air Conditioner." Apparently, most buildings in the city have one, though you cannot often see or hear it but you can certainly feel it when you walk into a cold building from a hot stone street outside. Some of the buildings are so cold inside that I get goose bumps in addition to a particularly confusing feeling of firmness of the nipples on my chest. Tonight, I see that Alexia is no longer lying with us but there is a light on in her bedroom. I am curious as to what she is doing up at this time of night and am drawn towards finding out. Carefully rising so as to not wake Leeanna, I quietly sneak over to the partially open door, my path lit by the subdued light reflecting off the walls around me. As I peek around the door, I see Alexia seated at a small desk, her back towards me, looking at the screen of a kom-pu-ter larger than the one she had in my world. She appears to be reading something. I silently slip into the room, step up behind her and drop my right hand lightly upon her shoulder. She doesn't flinch in surprise, instead gently taking my hand in hers. She pulls it forward and up to her lips, tenderly kissing the back of my hand, sending chills down my spine. "These rings really work," she whispers. "I could feel you enter the room behind me." I could see the thin gold chain at the back of her neck. I knew that I was wearing mine; having done so since the day we were separated. "What are you doing awake at this hour?" "Well, my love, I couldn't sleep. Knowing that the beautiful woman who is my heart's desire was only inches from me yet I could do nothing, I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight so I waited until you were both asleep and then I got up to get some work done." Surprisingly, I was not repulsed by Alexia referring to me as a beautiful woman or her heart's desire. Instead, I felt a small amount of pride. "I'm sorry ... my love. I did not intend to keep you awake." "I know," she chortles. "The shoe's on the other foot." "Neither of us is wearing shoes, Alexia." "I know. It's just a saying. Each of us now understands what the other was feeling. I know how you felt when you looked at me sitting next to you in the wagon when we were traveling to Glory and you know what it's like to be desired as a woman by a man who knows deep down that you're a man and aren't prepared to play the role of a woman now. Or maybe never." "Yet we love each other." "Well, that didn't come until later for us." "Not for me. I think I loved you almost immediately." "You wanted to fuck me almost immediately. Love came later. I know the difference now. So do you." "Did you ..." I am hesitant to ask. "Oh yeah! Absolutely. You had that cool, calm goddess thing going for you, standing apart from all the other parents. You know, there hasn't been anybody else since I came back to this universe" I could feel the truth in her voice. "Nor I. It did not feel right." "Yeah. Me neither." I lean down to look over her shoulder, my left cheek brushing against the side of her head. "Have you discovered anything?" "I don't know if you inspired me or what but I've got it all, everything I need to bring down the Consortium and the Winthrop Group. It's all here." "Alexia! You did it! Well done!" "I haven't done anything yet. We need to talk about that. Have a seat." She points at her bed. I sit down on the edge as she turns her chair to face me. I notice her staring intently at my naked thighs. I had borrowed a shirt to wear as night clothes but it was shorter than I liked. I tug at the hem but it does not cover much. She notices my efforts at modesty and turns her eyes towards mine. "Sorry," she says. "Force of habit. Are things really as bad at home as Pegues says?" "I am afraid so. Our worst fears have come true. It was a noble effort but we all failed your vision." "It wasn't your fault, it was mine. I should have known better. An individual person can be great but people, as a group, tend to be stupid, ignorant, short sighted and selfish." "Is not that too harsh?" "Not really. It takes leadership to keep people moving forward. I should have been the one to do that." "But there were risks if you stayed. We all agreed." "There were also risks if I left. Look what happened. It was also easier for me to leave." "What do you mean?" She reaches out, taking my hands in hers. "I'm going to admit something to you, something you may have a better understanding of now. I was afraid to stay. Afraid of taking responsibility for an entire world. I was also afraid of spending the rest of my life as a woman. I mean, I'm a man. Until I jumped over to your world, it never entered my mind to be anything but a man. And then I met you and Leeanna and, suddenly there were choices to be made, choices that affected other people. I know what I wanted but they were conflicting things. I wasn't certain about my own capabilities. I ended up choosing the known over the unknown. Yes, I still had a job to do here. People to punish, but that was a convenient excuse. I couldn't even admit this to myself until now. Do you understand what I'm talking about, Johnathyn?" I did. The fear of losing what you are. I did not understand what Alexia was experiencing in my world until I came to hers. It is frightening. "I do understand about possibly losing yourself. I feel it myself right now." "I thought you might. Hard to avoid under the circumstances. Lee seems immune." "It's all just a big adventure to her, though she does want you back." "And I want her back. And you, my love." "You have decided?!" "Yes, we're going home. What we need to discuss is what kind of home that's going to be." * * * *** * * * *** * * * "What now, White?" The police evidence storage had just confirmed that there were no DNA samples from either Terry or Jackie Thompson. None were ever taken. Their identities weren't in question so samples of their DNA were unnecessary. Very unfortunate. Ridgeway seems to be enjoying my frustration, however the front steps of police headquarters in New York City is a bad place for a confrontation on that point. "If the police can't help us, Captain, we'll need to go directly to the source." "And how exactly do you propose to do that?" "Frankly, I'm unsure. An exhumation would take time and money, plus involve lawyers." "Never a good thing." "No, I agree. They just gum up the works. We could try to bribe someone at the cemetery to do it on the QT but that too would take time to find the right person and should we ask the wrong person, we could find ourselves facing some very uncomfortable questions." "We don't actually need the bodies, just samples from the bodies and not much of a sample either, right?" "I think your correct, Captain. Do you have something in mind?" "Maybe, it depends on the layout of the cemetery. There were a few Civil Engineering classes mixed in with my Mechanical Engineering class load. I also spent a couple of summers on a highway construction crew in Pennsylvania. We 'girls' weren't supposed to do much more than traffic control but the supervisor was a little more broadminded than most so I got to see and do a lot of jobs." "You mean like operating a backhoe?" "No. Taking soil samples. Drilling into the ground soil samples." "What are you suggesting, Captain?" "If I can get my hands on the right equipment, we can drill straight down into the caskets from above and get what we need in a matter of minutes with no one being the wiser." "Where can we get that equipment?" "If we're lucky, I can rent it, if not, you'll have to buy it. Either way, it'll be a lot easier than digging up a couple of graves." * * * *** * * * *** * * * Mistress LaRouche had allowed me to use one of her empty apartments for the night. I thought that Leeanna was going to use the second apartment and Alex and Johanna were going to share his apartment but those plans changed. I assume Alex was frustrated by that change. When I knock on his door, Leeanna answers it almost immediately. "Good morning, Mirantha," she exclaims brightly. "Good morning, Lee. Are your parents awake?" "Yes. Mother is preparing breakfast. Please come in." I enter and cross the room towards the kitchen. There is a pile of bedding folded and neatly stacked on the chair in the living room. Alex has his back to me while cooking on the stove. Johnathyn is slumped forward in her chair, elbows resting on the table while she cradles a large cup of coffee in her hands, occasionally sipping from it. Coffee is one of the creations of this world that I introduced her to. She looks as if she did not get much sleep last night. Perhaps Alex was more successful than I thought. "Good morning, Johnathyn. Alex. Did you all sleep well?" "Well enough, Pegues," Johnathyn grumbles. "Pour yourself a cup of Joe, Mirantha, and grab a seat," adds Alex. "How do you like your eggs?" I do so and take a quick drink from my steaming cup. "Absent. The 'Joe,' as you call it, will be enough." "Suit yourself. We've got a lot to get done in the next few days. We may be looking at fast food meals until we leave." "Can I have 'McRibs'?" Lee begs. "We'll see," says Alex. "You'll need some vegetables too." "A potato is a vegetable, mother." "Fries are not a vegetable, Lee. Eat your eggs and drink some orange juice." He casually mentioned leaving. Has he made his decision? Do I want to know it? "Uhhhh Alex. Very good coffee, by the way." "Thanks. High praise from the Master." "Yes ... You said something about leaving?" "Yep, I did. We're all going home. At least most of us are. You were right, Pegues. I broke it so I bought it. I'm going home to fix it as soon as I take care of a few people here first and that should only require a day or so." "We need to discuss what you will do when you return to my world." "You mean my world, Pegues. Johnathyn and I have already discussed it. We've got a plan. It should work." "As well as your last plan?" "You've got every right to criticize me, Pegues, but if there's one thing that can be said about me, it's that I learn from my mistakes." "Then you must be a very learned man by now." "I am. Did you know that the country where we are standing right now is governed by a constitution?" "Yes, I am vaguely aware of that." "Most of the people in this country revere the men who drafted that constitution. They are called the Founding Fathers and treated as if they were darn near infallible." "What is your point, Alex?" "My point is that these very same men, or at least most of them, were involved in the creation of something called 'The Articles of Confederation' which is how the country was run before the Constitution was drafted. It was a disaster. These learned, infallible men screwed it up big time the first attempt they made to create a governing system. They learned from their mistakes and created a better system the second time around. It wasn't perfect either. They totally punted on slavery and that came round to eventually bite the country in the ass. Maybe it was inevitable. Either way, no one's perfect, Pegues. My world demands a dominant Queen, it's gonna get a dominant Queen. The Queen I should have been from day one. Some tried to tell me that but I wouldn't listen. I'll listen this time but it will eventually be my decision and mine alone." "If you wish to listen and learn, then listen to me now, Alex." "I'll listen, Pegues. So will you because I've got a job in mind that you are uniquely qualified for." * * * *** * * * *** * * * "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" the guy screams. I saw him approaching from yards away. I pointed him out to Ridgeway. She nodded her head in acknowledgement but kept drilling. We weren't lucky about renting the equipment she needed and ended up driving halfway across New Jersey before finding the portable backpack drill and accessories needed to do the job. It was designed for boring through rocks so the ground of the cemetery was very easy to deal with. We had dressed in workmen's coveralls and started early in the morning and had almost reached our target when the maintenance man caught up with us. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING WITH THAT THING?" he shouts over the din of the gasoline motor, getting up in Ridgeway's face. She casually stops drilling, killing the engine and deliberately removes her foam earplugs. "We're taking lower strata stability samples." "Why in God's name are you doing that?!" he demands. Ridgeway jerks her thumb towards the road that borders the back edge of the cemetery. There's a wrought iron fence between the road and the last line of graves, the line that contains the final resting places of Terry and Jackie Thompson. "The city's looking to build a new sewer line along the utility easement that runs with that road over there." "You can't put a sewer in here, it's a cemetery!" "We know that! We're not idiots! The sewer's gonna be on the outside but they'll have to dig close to the property line. We're taking core samples to check the lateral stability of various strata to make sure the adjoining property doesn't collapse into the dig. If there's insufficient lateral stability, we may need to add bracing to the bid requirements which will make the project more expensive. We're just following those flags the Chief City Surveyor's office put out late yesterday." Ridgeway points to a series of little yellow plastic flags running along the fence line that we had planted late last night by reaching through the fence. Ridgeway said at the time that the flags would add an air of authority to our operation. We just had to make certain each grave was marked with a flag. Our inquisitor looked at the flags and scratched his head. "I didn't see no surveyors out there yesterday." "You probably missed them. They don't use all the surveying equipment for a job like this. A couple of guys and a GPS receiver is all you need now. The big stuff shows up later if they decide to use this route." "But those two flags are smack dab in the middle of those graves," he says, pointing directly at our targets. "Yeah, I saw that. City Surveyors don't give a damn where they put those flags. Don't worry, man. We can work around them when we get there. No problem. We'll be out of here before you know it." The man looks relieved. "That's great. We got a funeral coming in less than an hour." Ridgeway makes a show of counting the remaining flags. "We'll step on it and be done by then. That okay with you?" "That'd be fucking great!" he says, smiling broadly. Ridgeway fires up the drill, waves at the guy and returns to work with vigor. I give him a little wave as he hurries away, covering his ears. When we reach the graves, both of us check things out to be certain we aren't being watched too closely. Ridgeway quickly attaches a 4 foot hollow drill shaft to the gasoline engine powered drill head. The diamond drill was already threaded onto the shaft. I help her set the drill head upright and held the shaft steady with heavily gloved hands as she pulls the starter cord and the engine caught, revving up rapidly. Ridgeway set her feet apart to get a stable base and pushes the drill bit into the soft ground. The shaft plunges down easily. She stops with about a foot remaining above the ground, disconnects the drill head and adds another 4 foot section of shaft to the end sticking out of the ground. After reattaching the drill head and restarting the engine, she continues drilling but more carefully than before. After another two feet, she stops, letting the engine fall back to idle speed. "I think we're there," she says. "Great! Let's do this and get the hell out of here." "I need to be careful. If, I'm right, once I penetrate the top of the casket, there'll be a void. The whole damn drill head will drop and probably punch the bit right through the body without getting a sample. This has to be done nice and easy." "Whatever," I say, feeling more exposed than before. "Do it." She nods her head and throttles back up. In seconds, the drill head falls a few inches but she catches it, holding the weight of the entire drilling rig in her hands. "We're in," she grunts. "Hurry up!" She gives me a strained, annoyed look. "Do you want to do this, White?" "No, just finish it." "What else would I do?" she groans as she re-grips the drill head then slowly allows it to inch downward until she pauses again. "That should be it, I think." "That's all there is to it?" "It's a diamond head drill and he's been dead for almost a year. There's not going to be a hell of a lot of resistance. Once I've punched through the bottom and gone down another foot or so, we can pull the bit up." "We've got what we need; why not pull it up now?" "Because whatever is in the core may not stay there. If I put a dirt cap on it, the sample's locked in." "Fine, you seem to know what you're doing. Finish it and we can leave." She accelerates the engine, continuing to drill. "We'll have to finish the other holes after getting our samples," she shouts over the roar. "Why would we do that?!" I demand, exasperated at the delay. "We used the flags so we'd have a believable story when we were challenged. No one was going to miss the sound of this drill. If we quit early, someone may start asking questions." Ridgeway stops the drill, killing the engine. She disconnects the shaft and begins to pull it out of the ground. "Get that clear plastic sample tube ready." After the first section of the drill shaft is out of the ground, she unscrews it from the second, setting it aside. The second section is yanked out and she takes off the drill head with a large wrench. Grabbing the clear plastic sample tube from my hand, she threads it onto the drill shaft where the drill head was and then pushes a long handled plunger into the back of the drill shaft, forcing the core of dirt out of the shaft and into the sample tube. Once full, Ridgeway removes the tube, caps it and hands it to me, pointing to a thin, dark layer sandwiched between two sections of light brown dirt. "That is Terry Thompson." "Are you certain?" "I'd stake my reputation on it." "We're staking our lives on it." "Then I better be right. Take that first shaft and put it back in the hole but don't drop it." I reach for the discarded drill shaft. "Why?" She begins to reassemble the drilling rig. "We want to eject the extra dirt back into the hole, just in case someone comes looking. That hole is only one inch in diameter. Put the dirt back, fluff up the grass a bit and wait a couple of weeks and you'd never know we were here." She hands me the plunger. "You want me to do it?" She smiles at me as she positions the drill rig in the middle of Jackie Thompson's grave. "You're the one who was in such a big hurry. Drop that core in the sample bag with the rest. Label it before you do. We don't want to mix these with the others." Does she take me for a fool? CHAPTER FORTY TWO It's in the hands of the private lab now. I didn't want to wait for the Consortium's lab to do the work. The way they treat me is abominable! Besides, what's another hit on an impressively overspent expense account? We were assured that Ridgeway's samples did indeed contain biological matter. They, along with the DNA samples I had retrieved from Mastiff's discarded magic props, were large enough to provide sufficient material to determine if all three were related. Unfortunately, results would not be available for 24 hours. There is a meeting of the Board of Directors scheduled for tomorrow in the early afternoon. If the results confirm what I suspect, I should be able to get the information to Stewart Hinkle in time to get added to the agenda. As it is, we've now got time to kill, which is how we find ourselves standing with an impressive sized crowd waiting for Lance Mastiff to begin his lunch time show. The publicity he got from the video shot by that news crew has certainly increased attendance. There must be close to 800 people here. I recognize some of the regulars near his tables but there are many new faces. "Why are we here, White?" Ridgeway inquires. "I want to keep an eye on Mastiff until we're ready. If we had your people involved, he'd be under 24 hour surveillance but you and I can't do that. We'll just have to take our chances until we can convince our respective employers that he's a threat. At least we know where he's going to be for the next hour or so." "He can't do a whole hell of a lot with all these people watching him. Damn! Think of the money he's been making doing this act five times a week. Works five hours a week, free to do what he pleases the rest of the time." "The question is, what does please him? Quiet, he's starting." I need to give him credit, he has certainly gotten better performing the standard magic tricks over the past months. He's added little tweaks that make them seem like his own invention. He also mixes up the sequence so that you're never certain what happens next, always a good way to keep the act fresh. One thing that has definitely happened is he has reduced the number of classic tricks and increased the number of unexplainable tricks. My father's old comrades would be having heart attacks right now if they could see it. Most of the crowd is impressed but it takes a true professional to understand the absolute impossibility of what he does with those store bought Coke cans, or the interlocking ring set. Every time I see his act, it still amazes me. Mastiff's approaching the end of his time but is still firing off one trick after another, the crowd showering him with applause. He waives them silent, then speaks. "I've been told recently by a long term fan that my beard makes me look evil." He grins manically. "Is that true?" There's a chorus of boos mixed with cheers. It's impossible to know what the crowd wants but it doesn't matter, Mastiff has already decided. 'I know, it's ridiculous, but I promised the sweet young thing that I'd consider working sans facial hair so I've decided today is the day." He reaches into the pocket of his suit coat and produces a can of shaving cream and a straight razor, which he flips open to the gasps of the audience. It takes my breath away a little bit. The razor is bright, shiny chrome and at least seven inches long! He holds up a section of newspaper and quickly reduces it to ribbons with a few flicks of his wrist. He places the razor on the table next to him, picks up a small, white terry cloth towel, draping around the back of his neck and over his shoulders, and then begins to lather his face. "What is he doing?" Ridgeway mumbles. "I have no idea, Captain. If he cuts off his beard and moustache, it's a one shot trick until he grows it back, which will be weeks." "Seems like the waste of a perfectly nice looking beard." she sighs. I glance over at her. "Don't go soft on me, Captain. You know who and what he is." "Yeah. I know. I'm just saying." I return my attention back to Mastiff, who has just finished wiping his hands on the towel around his neck. He picks up the razor, bring it close to his right cheek. He pauses, razor poised to scrape the cheek. "Last chance!" he proclaims. The response is the same mix of cheers and boos. "Very well!" He releases the razor, his right hand falling to his side, but the razor doesn't fall, it stays lightly pressed against his cheek. After a moment, it starts to slowly slide down, scraping away the shaving cream, leaving bare skin behind. How in God's name is he doing this?! It isn't just simple levitation, which is impossible in its own right because he's in the open air with nothing above him. Somehow, the razor is actually applying pressure and is stable enough to maintain the correct angle. After several more passes, the blade lifts from his face and wipes the excess shaving cream off the blade onto his towel. The razor returns to work as if controlled by an invisible hand. All this time, Mastiff does nothing but make faces, stretching his cheeks or raising his chin to give the razor more room to operate. In less than three minutes, he is clean shaven, the razor closing itself, landing softly on the table next to him as he wipes his face clean with the towel, dropping it on top of the razor to the resounding applause of the crowd. He bows deeply several times before raising his hands to silence his audience. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you very much! I have one last bit of magic to perform, something no one has ever done before! To accomplish this impossible feat, I require the assistance of twelve volunteers." Hundreds of hands instantly shoot skyward, their owners jumping and in place shouting to be chosen, Mastiff eventually waives them quiet. "I am clearly blessed with so many willing helpers but, as this is my last act, I will call upon some of my loyal audience members who have followed me from my humble beginnings." He points at Debbie Jennings. "Debbie, will you indulge me this one last time?" She rapidly steps forward, smiling. He also calls for her two friends, Shelby and Janice, who quickly join her. By the time he's done, he's got ten young women standing in a line behind him, nervously shifting from side to side. "All right, ladies. If you would please form a circle around me and join hands." He leads them away from his table, toward the sidewalk, creating some space for them to circle him, the crowd shifting as they move. Once he has them all positioned, they each grab their neighbor's hand, encircling him, all facing inwards. He slowly turns around, inspecting the circle, a frown upon his face, shaking his head side to side. "No. No. This won't do. It's not quite right, we need two more. How about you, Ms. White and Captain Ridgeway?" "How the fuck does he even know we're here?" Ridgeway whispers. "It's magic, Captain. Neither of us can explain it." We both don't move, not giving away our position while the rest of the audience looks around, expecting to see two people moving his way. Instead, he steps towards us, extending his hand while remaining within his circle of women. "Come now, Donna. For old time's sake." "What do we do?" Ridgeway asks me. He knows we're here so what's the harm of getting a close up view of this new trick? I grab Ridgeway's forearm and begin to push our way through the crowd, dragging her with me. There's some polite applause as we get closer to the group. He parts the circle for us to enter. "Very Good! Just what I needed! How appropriate." He takes Ridgeway gently by her shoulders. "Let's put you over here, Captain," he says, guiding her to a spot on the other side of the circle, where she dutifully takes the hand of either woman besides her. Mastiff comes back to me. "Would you be so kind as to take this spot, Ms. White?" I slide closer to him. "I know who you are, Alex." I say quietly but firmly, trying to sound brave and confident. "I know what you want and I'm going to stop you." "All by yourself, Donna? I don't think so." "There are a lot more people out there than just me, Alex. You're not so powerful over here. We can stop you." He bends his head down so that he is speaking into my left ear. "Remember what I told First Minister Dupree when he threatened to capture me?" he whispers "Yes," I whisper in reply. "What was it?" "Come and get me." "Exactly. I also said I'd decapitate the first man through the door." "And the second. And the third." "And so on. That offer still stands, Ms. White. Feel free to accept it whenever you like. Unless you're planning on doing it right now, I'd like you to stand over here opposite of Captain Ridgeway. You've both got one of the best seats in the house." Thompson steps back, a jovial, lopsided grin on his face, waiting for me to move. I'd love to tell him to drop dead but I'm also curious as to what he's going to do. He's likely going to do it whether or not I play along so I might as well play along. If he was going to kill me, he could have done it by now. I turn and join the circle. "Wonderful!" he declares as he walks around inside the circle. "Everyone is in place and all's right with the world. Pay attention, folks. You're not going to see anything like this ever again. Would someone hand me that sledge hammer?" A hand reaches through the circle between Jennings and whoever is next to her, holding what looks like a 20 pound sledge hammer. Thompson takes it from them and tosses it in the air, the handle rapidly revolving around the head. He catches it and presents it to Ridgeway for her inspection. "Is this a real sledgehammer, Captain Ridgeway?" he asks politely. She releases the hands of the two women on either side of her, takes the hammer and hefts it, then drops it on the sidewalk at her feet, head first. We can all hear and feel the thud. "Yes, it's real, Mr. Mastiff." He grabs it by its handle, twirling it in the air and dipping his head towards Ridgeway. "Thank you for your help, Captain. You can return to the circle." She does so, scowling at him as she goes. She doesn't like being a part of the show any more than I do but she recognizes the advantage for at least one of us to remain close to the action. He walks around the circle for a moment, hammer in hand then he stops, swings it up high over his head and brings it down, slamming into the concrete side walk with a solid thud. He walks a few more steps and does it again, then a third and a fourth time, each resulting in the same, solid thump, though he does powder some of the concrete surface of the sidewalk. He stops, standing upright, the head of the hammer resting on the ground, handle pointing up. He wipes his brow theatrically with the back of his left hand. "My, this is hotter work than I thought. Excuse me." He releases the handle but it stays upright. He whips off his black suit coat, tossing it aside, and begins to unbutton his matching black shirt, slowly and deliberately, one button at a time. The interest level of almost every woman in the circle just skyrocketed. As he leisurely works his way down the front of his shirt, his broad, muscled chest is gradually revealed, as are impressive six pack abs. Once the last button is undone, he casually shrugs off the shirt, dropping it on top of the suit coat. Returning to the hammer, he easily picks it up, twirling it again. This time, everyone can see the progression of each act in the bulging muscles of his arms, shoulders and back. He again repeatedly slams the hammer into the concrete as he walks around the circle, gradually moving towards the middle as he follows a spiral path. No one has any idea what he's up to but it's easy to see that the young women in the circle and those outside are enjoying the show. He stops again with another wipe of the brow. "This really is much more work than I anticipated. Guess I should have practiced more. Excuse me again." He reaches for the belt around the waist of his black trousers as he kicks off his right then left shoes, also black. He's not wearing any socks. This time, there is little teasing. Thompson quickly unbuckles the belt, unzips the pants and pauses just long enough for everyone to catch their breaths before dropping his pants to the ground, revealing a pair of almost tight, black, silk boxer shorts. Most of the woman gasp or sigh or both as he steps out of the pants bunched around his ankles, bends down to pick both the pants and the shoes up, adding them to the pile of clothes. Once again, the sledge hammer is grabbed, twirled and smashed against the sidewalk, Thompson picking up where he left off. You can smell the lust in the air. There isn't a single woman who has been watching his show who wouldn't tear those boxers off him and ravage Thompson right here and now. I wouldn't, of course, and neither would Ridgeway, though, looking at the barely concealed hunger in her eyes, I could be wrong about that. Both of us know what's hidden behind those black boxers but from the way they move, everyone has a pretty good idea that he's packing king size or better. He finally reaches the middle of the circle, having thoroughly gone over the entire area. He now stands in the middle of the circle, sledge hammer resting lightly on his right shoulder, left hand on his hip, legs spread slightly as he slowly turns, his body glistening from the sweat generated by the work with the hammer. His big hammer. Anybody can see how big a hammer it is. "I'd say that we are standing on one solid piece of concrete, wouldn't you?" he says with a broad smile. None of the woman say anything, they just nod their head in agreement, unable to take their eyes off the glory that is the body of Alex Thompson. He approaches Debbie Jennings and extends his hand. She leans towards him. If she wasn't supported by the women on either side of her, she'd fall flat on her face at his feet. "Bag please," he requests. A hand holding a standard brown paper grocery bag penetrates the circle next to Jennings. Thompson slides right up to her but doesn't make any contact as he reaches for the bag. The man had to be a male stripper in a prior life. Once he grabs the bag, he moves away, back to the center of the circle as Jennings is pulled back to where she started. He places the bag on the ground and pulls a large amount of black fabric from it. Wielding it above his head, he swirls it around and around, first in circles then a figure eight, the fabric trailing behind until he tosses it into the air where it blossoms out and slowly parachutes down around Thompson, his arms raised. As the fabric settles down to the ground, it becomes clear that it is some kind of robe like a monk might wear, all one piece with baggy sleeves and a hood. Thompson's hands and head emerge from the openings in the robe. There's some polite applause for how he handled the robe. He bows slightly. "Thank you but you ain't seen nothing yet." The robe reaches all the way to the ground, in fact a little longer than that so the edge of the cloth drags behind him as he walks back to the paper bag. He squats down, packing his other clothes in the now empty bag, then taking the bag and the hammer and setting them in front of me. "What are you up to?" I demand. "Watch," is all he says, returning to the center of the circle. He slowly turns in place one time, a full 360 degrees, then slaps his forehead with his right hand, smiling. "I almost forgot." The hands disappear back inside the robe for a moment then reappear, the right one holding his black boxers. More gasps and sighs from the crowd. He flips them towards me. The two women on either side of me try to reach out and grab them but neither lets go of my hands so it looks as if I am the one dragging their hands forward instead of it being the other way around. The boxers fly directly into the mouth of the paper bag at my feet and Thompson gives me a salacious wink. The crowd laughs as I blush in embarrassment. Even Ridgeway laughs. Thompson returns to his place in the middle of the circle. "Remember this!" he declares loudly so that everyone can hear him. "I stand on a solid concrete sidewalk! I am surrounded by twelve lovely assistants who are holding hands, who are surrounded on all sides by you, the audience! There is nothing above me but the open sky! I cannot possibly escape unnoticed! I tell you now ... that this is my last show and you will NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" There are hundreds of screams of anguish as the robe falls into a heap where Thompson once stood. I am so stunned that it takes me several seconds to gather my wits. Apparently, the others were equally stunned because the twelve members of the ring all charge towards the middle at once, reaching and grabbing at the robe as one. There is a momentary tussle before Ridgeway tears it from everyone's hands, revealing a dozen roses laying on the sidewalk with a note attached. Jennings is closest to the note, she bends down and picks it up with trembling hands. The crowd falls silent as she opens it. "To my twelve lovely assistants," she reads. "Please take one rose apiece as a token of my deep appreciation and respect. With love. Lance Mastiff." She is crying by the time she reaches the end of the note. Her friend Shelby was holding her shaking shoulders as her other friend carefully picks up the roses and begins handing them out to the twelve members of the circle. When she comes to me, I hesitate. "Take it," says Ridgeway, already holding her rose. "We may be able to find out something from them." I accept the rose but hand it to Ridgeway. "Hold this. I want to check something." I hurry over to where Thompson left the sledge hammer and pick it up. Damn! It's heavier than it looks. For Thompson to have tossed it around so lightly ... I struggle back through the departing crowd and drop the hammer on the sidewalk were Thompson stood. The same solid thud as before. I try several other spots before tiring of lifting the hammer. I stop, breathing heavily. Ridgeway gives me back my rose. "Pretty slick on his part," she says. "All that stuff with the hammer. He wanted to make sure no one could say there was a trap door or anything." "There has to be some kind of ..." "There isn't, White. He had all the bases covered. We both know exactly what it was. Magic, pure and simple." "Well, at least we know he's Alex Thompson." "What'd he tell you before he tossed you his undies?" "Shut up! He told me what he said in my office on the other side. Word for word." "Maybe Thompson told him that." "Just like the magic, we both know that Mastiff is Thompson. The DNA tests will just confirm it. We need to start getting ready right now..." Suddenly, I see an older lady picking up Thompson's magic equipment and packing it away. "YOU!" I shout. "Hold it right there!" She ignores me so both Ridgeway and I run over to where she is. "Who are you and what are you doing?!" I demand. She stops, giving us a steady, confident look. "Who I am and what I'm doing is my business and none of yours." She jerks her head to the left. "Move along" she adds, returning to packing Thompson's equipment "My business is what I make my business. Where has Alex Thompson gone?" She doesn't look up, just keeps on working but she does respond. "Not that it matters but I don't know that name." "He's the man who owns all this equipment. And I want it. All of it." "The man who owns this equipment is Lance Mastiff, my tenant." "So where is Lance Mastiff?" "No idea. He asked me to put his property in storage until his return as a favor. He was a good tenant so I agreed. Now, if you're done with your intrusive questions, I'll finish here and be on my way." "Not so fast," says Ridgeway. "How do we know you're telling the truth?" "By what authority do you question me? I don't answer to you." "Well maybe we'll take all this stuff," I say. She bristles at my threat. "You have no right!" I lean forward. Both Ridgeway and I are younger and taller. We'd have no trouble just grabbing Thompson's paraphernalia and leaving with it. She might succumb to a little intimidation. Ridgeway and I are standing next to each other just a few feet away from the old woman. "You couldn't stop us from taking all this and the police wouldn't help you because it's not yours. If you don't want trouble, just walk away. Now!" I'm preparing to raise my arm and grab her when a very heavy hand lands on my left shoulder. I look back. And up. A tall, blonde woman is standing behind and between Ridgeway and I, her hands gripping both of our shoulders in an increasingly painful way. "Is there trouble, Mistress LaRouche?" she asks. "Not now," the old woman answers. The tall woman is blonde and at least 6 foot 3. I glance down and see she's wearing flat soled running shoes, so she's a legit 6 foot 3. Her grip on my shoulder is beginning to cut off the blood flow into my arm. I try to twist away but she keeps hold, dragging me back. Ridgeway tries the same move but is more aggressive but she fares no better than I do. "Release them, Johanna," the old woman commands. She lets go of my shoulder with a slight forward shove. I get my balance and spin around to confront her. She's tall, broad in the shoulders and chest, looks to be in fantastic shape and holds the sledge hammer in one hand, twirling it like a baton twirler. She crosses between Ridgeway and me, dropping the hammer into a large, partially full, duffle bag, which she closes, locks and casually hefts onto her left shoulder, like it weighs practically nothing. The old woman finishes packing up and folds the tables. The blonde giant takes a table in each hand, The old lady turns to address us. "My friend and I are done here. I strongly suggest that you not bother us because my friend is somewhat protective of me." With that, they turn and march off into Central Park, leaving us standing alone where, but a few minutes ago, was filled to capacity and beyond. "Nice try, White," says Ridgeway. "You could have taken her." "Like hell! Did you see how she handled that hammer? She could have smashed our heads like ripe pumpkins. Besides, don't we already know where Mastiff was staying? If we need that stuff, we can send a team. Maybe two." "Maybe three. Right now, we need to get organized. Thompson has disappeared but you can be damn sure he isn't gone. He didn?t go to all this trouble to simply cut and run. He?ll be back and we need to be ready.? ?Ready for what, exactly?? ?How the hell should I know?? * * * *** * * * *** * * * That last trick damn nearly killed me. As time went on, my magic act also became a balancing act. The more I did real magic tricks, the more magic power it took to do those tricks, weakening me. But those were the tricks that made believers out of non- believers, which made me stronger. It was always a question when I started to perform whether or not there was going to be enough magic available to finish that day. At the end of each show, I was tired and tapped out but I was doing so much more than I was when I started. This time, though, I really pushed the envelope. Making the sidewalk beneath me disappear was tough enough after a complete show but then dropping naked into the sewer was taking a big risk. It?s still summer so there was little water in there but that kind of drop could still kill a man, particularly if I slipped up and let the concrete return before I was completely clear of the hole Now it?s just a matter of following the marks I left behind when scouting this section and find the manhole where Johnathyn is waiting with a change of clothes. I can feel the increase in the level of belief already as I begin to recharge. I just hope it?s enough to do the job. Posting the video of today?s performance on YouTube should help some. We?ll know by the end of tomorrow if it?s all been worthwhile. CHAPTER FORTY THREE I am certain this is where we are to meet Alexia but he has not arrived yet. This world is full of wonders but also full of confusion. I cannot think of Alex as anything but Alexia but he is clearly a man named Alex in this world. I have to force myself to say ?he? instead of ?she.? It is the same with Leeanna. It is the exact opposite for myself. Despite what I see in the mirror every day or my reflection in the large sheets of glass that are found wherever you look in this world, I cannot bring myself to think of myself as a woman. I am just temporarily not a man. That is the best that I can do. I have no idea how Alexia was able to do what she did when she came to my world. Every second here is an irritation to me, one that could eventually drive me mad except that I know it is just temporary. I can tolerate most anything as long as I know it will eventually come to an end. My mother always said that if I had been born a girl, she would have had to name me Patience. Certainly not Johanna. How Pegues creates these names is beyond me. I can?t even answer to that name; it is so foreign to me. Yet Pegues seems to easily slip back and forth. Miran to Mirantha and back to Miran, as simple and easy as a change of clothes. Clothes! I quickly reach down and touch the bag that holds Alexia?s change of clothes, assuring myself that it is still here and that we are ready for her when he arrives. There I go again! By Zaphod?s great staff, this is madness! Leeanna still seems mostly unaffected, though she too is confused at times. Calling a man ?Mother? and a woman ?Father? can do that to you. No matter what trouble awaits us, I will feel much better when we all return home. The prospect of Alexia coming home to be my wife fills me with as much joy as remaining here and Alex being my husband fills me with dread. I know it is unfair of me, I can see the desire in Alex?s eyes but I simply do not share it, even though I know that they are one and the same person and that to love Alexia is to love Alex but I cannot make that leap. That Alex does not push me only makes me love her more, yet I cannot bring myself to show him this affection. As I said. Madness. Absolute madness. Mistress LaRouche is sitting with me on the bench near what they call a manhole. She glances at her watch, trying not to make a show of it as to not worry me. She need not bother because I am past ?worried? and have moved on to ?concerned.? ?How late is he?? I ask. ?Not very,? she lied. ?Not much more than ? twenty decicycles is it? I know you explained all about that but I still haven?t grasped the actual conversion factor. Don?t worry, he?ll be here soon.? I lie also. ?I?m not worried.? ?Let?s talk about something else. I was glad to have you with me today at the end of the show.? ?It was my pleasure. You would have had a difficult time carrying all those things here by yourself.? ?No, Johnathyn. I was referring to the trouble caused by those two women, Ridgeway and White. Without your help, they may have tried to take everything.? ?You are a witch, Mistress. I am certain you could have dealt with them yourself.? ?You overestimate what a witch in this world can accomplish. If there was to be a fight, I?d prefer to have someone with a big stick on my side.? ?I had no stick, Mistress.? ?You had that sledge hammer.? ?That weighed barely one stone. On my world, I could wield a hammer weighing almost three stone. I curse my weakness daily.? She laughs. ?Well, I was glad that you had my back.? ?Happy to do what I can, Mistress. I am confused on one point. Do you not feel more powerful in Alexia?s presence? On our world, the more witches that gathered together, the more magic power there was to share. If Alexia was among them, all the other witches could certainly tell the difference.? She ponders my question for a moment. ?I had never thought about it before. You need to remember that the power Alexia had in your world is not the power Alex has in this world but, now that you mention it, lately, I have been feeling better, more energized. That could be why. My customers are reporting better results with my potions. I assumed it was me but it could also be Alex. That?s unfortunate. I?d hate to lose that when he leaves.? ?Perhaps you and some other witches could join forces and exploit what he has already accomplished. Build upon it.? ?That is an excellent idea, Johnathyn! I don?t know why I hadn?t thought about that myself!? ?He?s always given me great advice,? says Alex, faintly. We both jump up, moving quickly to the manhole. ?Is that you, Alexia?? I shout. ?No, it?s a giant talking rat. Yes it?s me. Help me lift this thing up and give me my clothes.? Mistress LaRouche returns to the bench for the bag holding Alex?s clothes while I kneel down and work my fingers into the small holes of the thick metal lid. With Alex pushing up from below and me lifting from above, we soon have the lid shoved aside. When I look down the hole, I see that he?s climbed up using some iron rungs imbedded in the smooth stone that lines the hole. He looks up at me, smiling brightly and winks. ?Sorry I?m late. Miss me?? ?Do you mean was I worried? Yes, we both were. Why were you detained?? ?I was barefoot. There are a lot of things in a sewer you don?t want to step on without something on your feet.? ?Doing this unclothed was your idea. I would think that you should have thought about that problem.? ?I told you, for the bit to work, I needed to be wearing the robe. I had to have something cover up the fact that I was dropping down through the sidewalk. If I were wearing my clothes, I didn?t need the robe. Besides, without the clothes, there wasn?t anything to snag on the edge of the sidewalk when I dropped.? ?I did not like the way those women were looking at you.? ?Aaawww, jealous. That?s cute. Just hand me my bag and we can discuss this later.? Just then, Mistress LaRouche returns with the bag. She kneels down opposite me and extends the hand that holds the bag down into the hole. ?Here you go, Alex.? He takes the bag from her hand. ?Thank?s Janet. I?ll change and be with you in a jiff.? He places the handles of the bag in his mouth and climbs back down the side of the hole about 3 decileagues before reaching the ground. Removing the bag from his teeth, he bends down to remove something from the bag. As he stands up, I see that it is an undergarment. Alex steps forward so that he is standing in a shaft of light so that he can see what he is doing. As can I. As can Mistress LaRouche. ?OH MY!? she gasps, looking briefly away but then returns her gaze to the shaft. After Alex pulls the under garment up his legs and around his waist, she turns her head and looks at me. ?Did you know that Alex had ?? ?Yes, I am aware.? ?Have you and he ?? ?Not since I came to this world.? ?So, since you became a woman, you and he haven?t?? ?No, we have not.? ?Not once?? ?No.? ?And you?re married. To each other, I mean.? ?Yes, we are married.? ?Not even once since you got here?? ?No. Not even once.? She looks back down the hole to see the shaft. ?You should, Dear. You really should.? * * * *** * * * *** * * * I can hear Johnathyn and Janet LaRouche talking at the top of the manhole but I can?t hear exactly what they are saying. Guess it doesn?t matter. If there was a problem of some kind, one of them would let me know. The clothes are a little touristy for my taste but that?s the purpose. Add a hat and some sun glasses and I should be able to be unrecognized until we start tomorrow. After I finish buttoning my shirt, I grab the first rung of the steps. ?Coming up!? I shout and quickly climb the ten feet or so to the top. When I get there, I hold out my hand to Johnathyn. ?A little help?? He reaches out, takes my hand and easily pulls me out of the manhole. Together, we get the cover back in place in seconds and all three of us pick up my magic stuff and hurry away. We aren?t headed back to the apartment though. If someone is looking for me, that?s the first place they?d go. Were spending the rest of today and tomorrow morning at the rooms that Pegues originally rented when they crossed over weeks ago. It?ll be take out instead of home cooking but we?ll be safer. * * * *** * * * *** * * * Ridgeway said she would do what she could to raise the alarm at the Winthrop group about Alex Thompson but she is as limited as I am. Neither of us are in the good graces of our employers. For the same reason--we failed to put down the revolution over there. Now, we may have proof that the revolution has crossed over to our world and no one wants to believe us. I?ve put together a fairly impressive collection of videos from YouTube of Thompson?s act, including some from today?s finale. Unfortunately, nothing from today managed to catch our conversation. They show us talking but you can?t hear what we?re saying. All I can hope is that these videos along with DNA proof will convince Lawson that something must be done about him right now. The next question is what should be done. Upper management hates it when you simply bring them problems. They want solutions, preferably ones they can adopt and take credit for if they work or can hide from if they fail. Here, there are too many unknowns. Is Thompson working alone? If not, who are his people, how many are there, where are they? Clearly, simply killing Thompson is not enough. We have to capture him, question him. He knows things that could cause the company all kinds of problems but he may not have proof. If he does have proof, he?s smart enough to have taken precautions, maybe that landlord of his or that giant friend of hers. This is simply too much for Ridgeway and me to handle by ourselves. If we can?t get some help from the Winthrop Group, we could lose this one. * * * *** * * * *** * * * ?Ridgeway, you know we don?t take a dump around here without an order in triplicate. If you don?t have orders from the top, I can?t help you.? Bureaucracy is bureaucracy wherever you go. ?Look, Bates. I?m not telling you to actually do anything. What I?m suggesting is that you get ready to do something.? ?And why would I do that, Ridgeway?? ?Because I?ve got inside information that the Consortium is going to make an emergency request for an Action Team. The man who activates that team quickly will look like a hero to upper management, wouldn?t you think?? Bates gives me an extremely suspicious look. ?Exactly what are you suggesting?? ?Naturally, the obvious. Put an assault squad on alert, same with a communication unit.? ?Really? Is that all? Maybe I should call the National Guard too?? What a dick. ?It?s no big deal, Bates. You?re the man in charge of training, aren?t you? You do shit like that all the time and call it a readiness drill.? I hated those damn things. They could ruin a perfectly good weekend. ?You also assign a surveillance squad to follow some random civilian for a couple of days to keep the skill set sharp. Instead of a random civilian, what if I suggest a name?? ?Who?s paying for all this?? ?It?s already in your training budget. It?s just a matter of timing. You ?just happen? to have the correct people on alert when the Consortium ?just happens? to need them. You look like a genius.? ?And if I don?t get the call from the Consortium?? ?Then it?s just your normal, unannounced, readiness drill. The troops hate ?em but they know they?re coming.? ?What about this guy you want followed? How do I sell that one?? ?Like I said, training. You always pair up some newbies with vets and send them out to teach surveillance techniques. Nothing new.? ?Level with me, Ridgeway. Why this guy? Who is he?? I wanted to put this off as long as possible but if I put him off, Bates is going to be more suspicious than he already is. ?Lance Mastiff.? ?The magic guy? I?ve seen some of those videos floating around here. Those tricks with the Coke cans? Crazy shit man.? ?You seen the one from today?? ?Naw, haven?t checked my email yet.? ?He?s disappeared.? ?Didn?t show up for his performance?? ?Oh he showed up. Then he disappeared.? Bates looked confused. ?You mean he got inside a box of some kind, they turned around a couple of times, and when they opened the box he was gone?? ?No, he took off his clothes, threw on a robe and he disappeared, leaving an empty robe. And no, there was no trap door, no manhole in the sidewalk and he was surrounded by people so he didn?t sneak off.? ?That?s impossible!? ?Bates ? did you ever ? you know, cross over?? ?Me? No. I would have though. And yes, I know that means I?d become a chick, but come on! It?s another god damn universe! Who wouldn?t want to see it?? ?Well, if you had, you wouldn?t say it was impossible. I saw shit like that all the time.? ?Hold on. Are you saying this Mastiff guy is from over there?? I could try to tell Bates the entire story but I don?t have the time and I don?t need to. ?Yeah, that?s what it looks like.? ?One of them, over here? My God!? ?Exactly.? ?How?d those idiots let that happen?!? ?Who knows? The main thing is we?ve got to find him and put him in the bag until we?ve wrung him dry. But to do that we?ve got to find him.? ?Look, Ridgeway. There?s only so much I can do without orders. I can give you four guys to search for Mastiff and I can put the rest of the Action Team on standby but the Consortium?s gonna have to make that call and agree to pay the freight. Winthrop Group ain?t a charity.? ?That?s all I?m suggesting, Bates.? ?Hope it?s enough.? ?Me too.? * * * *** * * * *** * * * We got Leeanna her McRibs. I have a couple of Big Macs and fries. Johnathyn decides on chicken sandwiches while Pegues passed. Claims she isn?t hungry. It?s probably nerves. I know I?m nervous. The last time we went to war, there were more of us and I was much stronger. The enemy was stro