Cloak & Dagger - Episode 12

Cloak & Dagger

Episode 12

by Toni Walker

Agnes Edgington was a middle-aged lady who had more gray hair than most her age. She nearly had shrieked when Fergus found her dusting the second dining room. She ran to him and grabbed his hand. 

"You're back? How did you convince, Mr. Knight?"

"I didn't exactly convince him," Fergus said. "We think he's been compromised by Liz Hunter."

"Compromised?" Agnes chucked a bit. "That's ridiculous. Ms Hunter is a welcome addition to the estate."

"Hey, Lady. What about Fergus? He's been Mr. Knight's right hand man for seventeen years."

"It's not like he's been the perfect servant," Agnes said. "He's been fumbling for years." Fergus cleared his throat showing Anges that he was still in the room.  "I'm afraid, Mr. Knight couldn't look past his mistakes any longer."

"That's quite untrue!" Fergus couldn't believe Agnes was speaking about him in this way. His feathers were definitely ruffled. He'd known and trusted her for years.

Agnes leaned forward and whispered, "I hear he's a bit of a drinker too."

That was the last straw for Fergus. He'd been a loyal employee for his entire career, above reproach. The fact that Agnes was speaking to him this way was hateful and demeaning. 

"Well, I never expected such talk from you." 

"It's just rude," Faith said. She pulled a small canister from her pocket and sprayed it in Agnes' face. The woman fell sideways and collapsed on Fouts.

"What did you do that for?" Fouts growled.

"There is something wrong with her. And anyway, she was annoying me."

Fouts drug the housekeeper to the sitting couch at the end of the room and dropped her on the cushions. 

"This is not promising," Fouts said. "Let's hope one of the other staff members is more agreeable."

"Maybe Liz whammied everyone," Faith said, seriously.

"I doubt it. I think they realized Fergus wouldn't comply with them and they got rid of him immediately. They might have bought off Agnes with the promise of a dollar amount she couldn't resist."

"Agnes had to put her mother into an elderly facility and it is very expensive. She just couldn't do it anymore on her own. Her mother had Alzheimer's."

"That makes sense. It makes her vulnerable and Liz took advantage of that," Fouts said.

On the far end of one wing were the servants quarters. Willie Allen, one of the outdoor maintenance workers was just lying down to get a few winks when Fergus, Fouts and Faith entered the barracks area. Willie was lying on the bottom bunk on the far wall. His eyes grew wide when he saw them.

"Oh, no. You shouldn't be here. You're going to get us all in trouble." Willie was actually scared spitless.

"We need to stop Liz. We believe she's done something to Mr. Knight and it's effecting the entire corporation," Fouts said.

That didn't seem to matter to Willie. He had his and his family's livelihood to consider.

"No. NO. Go away. Go away NOW!"

Fouts was not going away. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to break into here and someone was going to tell him something even if he had to threaten this person's life.

They heard Liz's voice down the hall and Fouts silently threatened Willie. He didn't have to speak to threaten because when he was duly motivated, Fouts could do worse than Liz, Franklin Fairchild and Julian Black put together. 

The three hid in separate places just as Liz Hunter thrust the door open. She questioned Willie briefly. The silent alarm had been triggered and she couldn't find the reason for the intrusion. Fouts could see the doorway from his vantage point. There were two red whelps at the base of her neck. That had to be where they programmed her with the ADP. It gave him an idea about how they could stop her. He just had to get Chandelor and Liz in the same room for it to work right. 

When Liz exited, Fouts regrouped with Faith and Fergus. The new idea fresh in his mind. He eagerly shared it with Faith and Fergus. While he was pondering the details of his mission, Faith used her Legacy issued PDA to tap into the estate's security system. She found Chandelor Knight's location within a few minutes.

"He looks a little out of it, if you ask me," Faith said. "Maybe they've slipped him a mickey."

"It's possible," Fouts said. "Some drugs along with hypnotic suggestion have hampered many of our agents in the past."

"Sounds a bit old school, don't you think?"

"Chandelor's too old for some of this Advanced ADP Programming. The process could possibly give him a heart attack and I' sure that's not a part of their plans."

"Especially, if they want Chandelor to take the fall when this is all said and done," Faith said. "I've always wondered who would inherit the estate if some dire circumstance befell Mr. Knight," Fergus said.

"Chandelor has 3 sons. All with women he never married. Mackenzie and Graham Gray and Julian Black. Plus, Graham has two children, Phoenix and Scarlett," Fouts said

"You're really up on the Knight family history. They give you a crash course on that when they hired you?" Faith asked.

"I like to know what I'm dealing with before starting a new job," Fouts said. "Family histories of the important players is always a good thing to keep up on. Their families are threatened more than most."

Faith hadn't heard the name Phoenix Gray in years. Her history may be a little cloudy in her brain, but Phoenix and Scarlett were two people from her past she knew she could trust. They had saved her brother's life in Bulgaria, after all.

"We are going to need one thing before we put our plan in motion," Fergus said. "And I know exactly where we can find one.

Ten Little Spies - Episode 14

Episode 14: For Your Trouble
by Sabrina Carol

Dare Ransom and Kaye Corday in Ten Little Spies.

Jazz DeMarco shoved a stick of gum into her mouth, and began to chew her nerves away. "Man, when I think of all the places I could be..." She studied the dark and opulent parlor room. Behind the mahogany walls were a succession of wires connected to hidden cameras. They were the lurking eyes of a mad man. And Jazz was his valued servant.

"With the money you're earning you will be able to travel the world over," Dagmar Krause declared as she entered the room.

"That's if I live long enough," she grunted in response. So far Jazz had survived a hail of bullets, and nearly being crushed to death by a helicopter. Boy, she certainly couldn't wait to hear the latest escapade Dagmar had cooked up. Is money really worth all this? For the cool loot she was cashing in, yes. What was pennies to the Zeller clan meant cruising down easy street for the rest of her life, to Jazz.

She watched Dagmar with curious eyes. The old lady was practically glowing. Any other day she looked like a body post-mortem. "What's got you so flipping happy?"

Dagmar gave her a brittle smile. "I just peeked in on our guests," she nearly sang. "It appears the little spies are splitting hairs--- "Oh, what shall we do? What is to become of us?"--- I love it!"

"If I were you I wouldn't rejoice too much," Jazz forewarned with a snap of her gum. "Those little spies have a way of getting themselves out of the impossible."

"Not this time," the elder woman responded coldly. "There is no where to run or to hide. Even the Legacy won't be able to save them. How can it. . . when it won't be able to save itself."

"What are you getting at?" Jazz questioned, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Dagmar walked over to the wall table. Several wonderfully carved white candles stood in a row. "I have a special mission for you my dear. Everything depends on your ability to complete this task."

Jazz gritted her teeth as a stabbing pain assualted her lower back. "I hope this scheme comes with health insurance attached."

Dagmar's wrinkled chin quivered in amusement. "I can afford a little extra for your troubles, I'm sure."

Jazz grinned with smug satisfaction and walked over to the table. She picked up one of the candles, tossed it into the air and caught it with one hand. "So, what is it you want?"

"You should be very careful with the way you handle my brother's candles," Dagmar laughed. "They're infused with weapons of mass destructions." She proudly smoothed a finger down one of the wax columns. "Beautiful, yet so deadly."

"And what do I do with these?" Jazz asked, cautiously replacing the one she held.

"They are bombs," Dagmar revealed. "Each one contains a special chemical. I want you to place them around the Legacy headquarters."

"Fine, but not the hospital," she agreed. "My sister works there, and I can't risk her getting hurt."

"Then makes sure she isn't there because you will do exactly as I instructed, or else."

Jazz bit her tongue to keep from cursing the old bag of wrinkles.

Dagmar smiled in delight. "I knew you would see it my way." She marched to the parlor door. "Now, I must see what that bastard brother of mine is up to. And one important thing. When you light the candle leave quickly, for when the tip of the string burns down the bomb will ignite."

After Dagmar was gone, Jazz took out her cellular phone to call her sister, but the line was dead. Great, she thought, while glaring at the candles. Now all she had to do was decide which was more important: Maxie or Money?

"Sometimes a girl can't catch a break."

***

"Will you please get into the bloody car." Adrian Zeller begged his hostage. The gun that was suppose to keep everything under control was now stuffed in an inside jacket pocket away from prying eyes.

With a look that warned "Try anything and I'll scream." , Dyan Ransom stood like a stone statue on the bustling sidewalk.

Adrian's long legs moved in agitated strides. What the hell was he suppose to do! He couldn't very well shoot her in front of block full of potential eyewitnesses. His aunt Dagmar would just love that. She would proudly carve Zelia Cheklov's Son into his forehead. So what if his mother wasn't the brightest woman in the world. It was the human spirit that counted. Edith Bunker wasn't winning any smart prizes any time soon, but she didn't deserve to be labeled a ding-bat.

"Damn it! I've got to stop watching Nick-At-Nite." He muttered to himself.

***

Dyan Ransom watched with hidden pleasure as her tall, blue eyed, blond--- and regretfully handsome captor--- paced himself to a solution. She'd been stalling for ten minutes with her refusal to be voluntarily kidnapped. Despite the circumstances, Dyan had to admit she was enjoying seeing Adrian go from panic to near nervous breakdown.

"You really stink at this, you know," she insulted for the fun of it. "I had a purse mugging I enjoyed better than this. At least that lunatic knew his objective."

Adrian slid to a halt on the sun sparkled concrete. "Will you shut-up!"

"Hey! Watch it buddy. She ain't half bad." A male passerby shouted.

Dyan tossed her length of brunette locks to one shoulder and smiled. "Finally, one man who knows what he wants."

"All right, okay," Adrian held up his hands like they were grasping imaginary white flags. "What will it take to get you to come with me?"

Her mouth fell open in shock and then clenched closed in disgust. "You have the audacity to offer me a deal after what you've done?" she asked between clamped teeth.

He a combed a hand through his hair. "I know you think I'm a monster, Dyan. Please believe me when I say I am trying to right something very wrong."

Her pretty face flared with anger. "Are you insane? Why would I even begin to believe a potential killer?"

"Go ahead and say it louder," Adrian flailed his arms wildly about. "I don't think the people on the next block heard you."

Folding her arms across her chest, Dyan deliberately stepped closer. "If Kaye had been home instead of me, you would have gladly murdered my sister. Excuse me if I don't have sympathy for the devil."

Visibly bothered, he confessed. "I couldn't have killed your her. Just incase you haven't realized I don't have the capacity for bloodshed; certainly not innocent people. I know Kaye is only a pawn in Fairchild's twisted game. He's the one I'm after."

In spite of herself, Dyan couldn't stop from being curious. "You said you were trying to right a wrong. What exactly did Franklin do?"

Adrian paused, considering whether he should say anything. Finally he turned to her with a look of sincerity. "Franklin is the one responsible for my father being institutionalized. Ezekiel was far from crazy --- at least then he was. Franklin wanted to be rid of my father because he knew about the experiments the Legacy was performing on innocent people. He kidnapped my very pregnant mother and did unimaginable things to her. When father finally found Zelia, she was without child. Franklin had stolen my sister."

The words hit too close too home for Dyan, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She knew Adrian spoke the truth. She had known in her own way for years.

Adrian sighed heavily. "Needless to say, my sister is only one of a long line of missing children. Dagmar and I are only two people--- well four if you count the others--- who are trying to bring Franklin down. We've managed to infiltrate the Legacy. But time is running out. Franklin wants Kaye to assassinate me; undoubtedly, he has her thinking I'm the enemy."

"I think I can help you." The words tumbled out of Dyan's mouth faster than she could stop them. She couldn't fathom what she was about to do, but something had to be done. She had kept quiet for too long. Each day she hid her secret, the longer she lived a lie. Tears flooded her eyes. She was filled with many regrets, all of which were harming the people she loved.

Adrian eyed her warily. "Is this a ploy? How do I know you're not going to run and tell Franklin the first chance you get? After all, your husband and sisters both, are loyalist to the Legacy."

"I hate Fairchild more than you will ever know," she uttered as the tears wet her cheeks. "You asked me to believe you. I do. Now I'm asking you to trust me. I know where you can find all the proof you need to destroy Franklin Fairchild." Disgusted, she wiped the tear stains from her face. "Are you with me?"

"Yes, yes I am," Adrian nodded, his resolve sharpening. "But first you have to answer me this: How do you know so much?"

Dyan's violet eyes clouded with darkness. "Because I'm one of the missing children."

***

"Get in the car. And don't try anything funny."

Though obeying burned her up inside, Kaye Corday did as she was told and slipped into the driver's side of the black Maserati Coupe. Years of training to perfect her operative skills hadn't prepared her for this-- Melanie Peel, Franklin's number one coffee girl, brandishing a little steel handgun as comfortably as she did her nail file. To be honest, Kaye wasn't sure what bothered her more-- being held at gun point, or being kidnapped by a mere secretary. Either way the circumstances reeked.

Kaye's head began to hurt at the thought of where she wanted to be, needed to be; by Dare's side. He was in the Legacy ER dying for all she knew. Fear gripped her stomach, threatening to crush her insides. Maybe he was already dead. Kaye gazed with worried eyes through the windshield at Melanie, who was rounding the car to the passenger side.

. . . Dare is going to get better, so don't worry so much

Kaye had to admit there was a ring of truth to Melanie's obnoxious revelation. But how would Franklin's clerk know something so important? The same way she would know how to fire a gun, Kaye answered her own question. She gave an angry huff, blowing a blond curl from her forehead. She had to do something. Kaye hadn't a clue what Melanie wanted from her, where she was taking her, or planning to do with her.

With each passing second, Kaye could feel the tension growing in her muscles. There was a way out of this mess. She had been taught to expect the unexpected, and to strike when need be. And right now, Kaye needed a quick getaway.

Hearing the snap of the passenger door handle, she firmly made up her mind. Her hazel eyes took precise aim at her intended target. It was now or never.

***

Melanie Peel wasn't sure what happened. One minute she was gingerly sliding into her Maserati, and the next she was being shoved face first into the dashboard. The sickening sound of crushing bone filled her ears. A furious heat wave coursed through her face and blood flooded her nose. She didn't even have time to feel the pain when she recognized the familiar sound of a gun being cocked.

"Ugh, that nose is going to need a good plastic surgeon. But then again . . . the dead needn't worry about trivial things, such as beauty."

Feeling the cold touch of the gun barrel against her temple, Melanie choked while agonizingly trying to breath. She watched in horror as blood from her nose and mouth splattered her shirt. Desperate, she tried her best to plea for mercy, begging, "Please, please don't do this. I can't die-- not like this!"

If Kaye Corday lacked sympathy for the brutal sight Melanie made, then certainly the well of tears falling from Melanie's eyes meant nothing as well.

A deep and gravely laugh rumbled from Kaye's throat. "Mel, I shouldn't have to explain the victim doesn't get to make requests."

"Then what do you want from me!" she cried out frantically. "I'll say anything. Do anything. Just please don't kill me."

Kaye teasingly stroked the gun barrel down the side of her cheek. "Hmm," she hummed, as if debating. "Okay, let us try it your way. But if I even get the slightest tingle that you're lying to me. . ." Twisting her free hand through Melanie's seductively long locks, she viciously yanked her head back. A quiver of joy went through Kaye when Melanie yelped in pain. "Let's begin, shall we? Why would a rank amateur like yourself even attempt to abduct me?"

Melanie coughed several times before being able to answer. "Dagmar Krause ordered me to. She and her nephew---," before she could finish another spasm of coughs erupted from her chest.

"Her nephew," Kaye repeated impatiently. "Who is he?"

Melanie tried to answer, but she was finding herself awfully nauseous from swallowing her own blood.

"Get it together Mel, I'm running out of patience."

"Adrian Zeller," she managed. "They approached me several months ago with an offer of a million dollars to give them inside information about Franklin."

"Great," Kaye muttered. "The guy's name just keeps coming up like vomit after an all night binge. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"Adrian was suppose to. . . kidnap you, but when he failed to, Dagmar had me do it," Melanie lied. If Dagmar had her way, Kaye should have been dead; but, Melanie felt that little tidbit wouldn't help her plea for life. "They knew Franklin had assigned you to spy on them. That's the only reason why I did it. Honest."

Kaye seem to find this amusing. "Is it safe to assume you were the one who ratted me out?"

Melanie gave her best 'please don't shoot me' look. "A million dollars is a strong influence."

In return, Kaye gave Melanie her best terrorist smile. "Understandable. But that doesn't clear up how you know about Dare's condition. Did Zeller have something to do with Dare being rushed to the ER?"

"No," she swore. "That was-- and don't overreact when I tell you-- it was Franklin. He's been the one behind the candle killings."

Kaye's right eye twitched in aggravation. She pressed a sweaty palm to her forehead as if in pain. After a few calming breaths she finally spoke. "Am I suppose to believe Franklin Fairchild, a man who has dedicated his entire life to the Legacy, who's very son nearly died for the same cause, is murdering his own operatives?"

"But it's true," Melanie said hastily. "Franklin has been doing what he calls 'cleansing' throughout the ranks. He only wants to keep the agents he knows in the end will be loyal to him and not the Legacy. He and several of the Legacy's top chemists have been staging these candle killings, and making it look like the work of Ezekiel Zeller."

"Do you know how insane all of this sounds?" Kaye demanded.

"The U.S. Security Council has been investigating Franklin for a good time now," she continued. She stopped only to remove a tendril of brown hair from a drying bloody clump on her cheek. "The end of his reign is coming quickly. But Franklin is a man who won't give in without a fight. He wants to seize control of the Legacy. I suspect he is looking to align with the Black Council. In order to do that he must make sure he is surrounded by only those he can trust-- or use-- depending on the way you look at it."

Kaye remained quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. Even so, Melanie knew her revelations were sinking in. For the first time since her haphazard attempt at snatching Kaye, she was able to breath easy. "Franklin Fairchild has a strong influence on a legion of people across the globe. He's a threat in more ways than you can possibly imagine, Kaye."

If Kaye had heard a word Melanie said, she didn't act like it. She suddenly switched gears just as quickly as she turned Melanie from subjugator to prisoner. She clawed at the base of her skull with anxious hands. Melanie watched with knowing eyes.

Taken aback by an attack of conscience, Melanie tried to speak up. "Kaye, there's something you need to know. Fra---"

"Where were you taking me?" Kaye commanded.

A look of confusion registered on Melanie's face before remembering her mission to take Kaye to the Zeller mansion in the mountains. "The Zeller's have a mansion in the North Morland mountain region." she disclosed.

Kaye nodded several times. Her lips were constantly moving, but nothing came out. Frustrated, she cranked the engine to the sports car.

"Kaye," Melanie said heavily, in another attempt to clear her conscience. "There's something important you should kn--"

Melanie never got the chance to finish. She didn't hear the bullet explode from the gun; or feel it tear into her skull. Death had come quickly, like a flash of lightening across a storm filled sky. It was the kind she always hoped for. She didn't want to die burdened by regrets, or wondering if heaven or hell awaited her on the other side.

***

Kaye sat the smoking gun in her lap. She always believed people to be the most fascinating moments after they died. Countless times she found herself scrutinizing the unfortunate ones dead at her hands. It was the way their faces glowed with life that was no longer there. And how their eyes stared endlessly into a day that would never come again.

She reached across and closed Melanie Peel's eyes with the gentle slip of her hand. Kaye couldn't explain why, but she didn't want Melanie waiting for the incoming day. She wanted her to dream and to leave this life far, far behind.

Kaye centered her thoughts on what to do next. Whatever rational voice that managed to break through the noise in her head, was now being drowned out by raging thoughts, and throbs of pain. She stretched an arm over Melanie and carelessly wiped the bloody window with the palm of her hand.

"Buckle up Mel, it looks like you and I are going for a long ride."

THE LEGACY HAS MANY REASONS
TO LEAVE REALITY BEHIND!

Ten Little Spies - Episode 13

Previously on TLS...

Last we left Team LEG in Episode 9, they were trapped inside a mansion by an unknown villain. Friends had turned into enemies. Gia Doyle wasn't acting like herself with her head injury, while Steven Webb and Octavia, Bobbie Sullivan and Ethan all were brought to a very familiar looking mansion atop the mountain.

Jared Quinn awoke to find himself in a strange environment, whileAlison Corday found the bodies of Mackenzie Gray and Echo piled outside the abandoned safe house.

---

Episode 13: Their Father's Lies
by Toni Walker

Ethan Fairchild, Gia Doyle and Octavia Kassoff
in Ten Little Spies. 

No, he wasn't surprised by Bobbie's revelation. There had been a time when he wanted to believe in his father. Know that he was innocent, but too many things didn't add up. Too many things had been slid under the proverbial carpet that were never addressed again. 

The microdot for one. He remembered the microdot. He remembered that nanites, but according to this reality, none of it had happened. It had been a dream. Hell of a realistic dream.

He listened to the others as they talked and discussed strategy. Gia whispered to Octavia about him being Ian, and why wouldn't she? She was a survivor, just like him. She would use any information she had on hand to make sure she was the one to come out on top. She was a hell of a lot different now than when she first joined the Legacy ten years ago. Or maybe that was thirteen considering the three year gap in his memory.

She had been happier then. She looked happier, as if she was content whereever she was in her life before she lost her memory and was found by Philip Lancaster. She had an uncanny knowledge of a curious group of warrior monks called the Knights Templar. And it was her knowledge that helped them track down the smugglers and bring them to justice. That was back in the day when they helped people, organizations and the government. Back when they were legit. Back when the name Legacy meant something.

Everything was different now. Tainted by his own father who had used his power to corrupt. But he wasn't the only one. The High Council was just as guilty of this sin. Together they were as horrible as the Black Council ever thought of being. There had been a time when he thought the Black Council and Julian Black to be his worst enemy, but now he knew the truth. A truth he had contemplated on for years.

The Legacy was his enemy.

And the operatives were only pawns in their ultimate game of cat and mouse. To what end, he still wasn't sure, but whatever it was, the Black Council was still a threat to their objective.

His attention was drawn back to Gia who was now poised next to him. Her eyes were glassy with pain but that wouldn't stop her from killing him if she had the chance. Before she could speak, he told her the only truth he knew for certain.

"I'm not him. I'm not Ian."

Gia smirked. She had obviously been expecting his answer. "And why am I supposed to believe that?"

"Take a look around you, Doyle. What do you see? All Legacy operatives save for Mr. Webb here. All people who certain parties want dead and have tried to kill numerous times."

"You're insane. You're Ian. Some clone they created to kill us all." Gia nodded to Octavia who remained aloof in her lounge chair, not moving. She wasn't interested in the drama.

Bobbie nodded to Ethan's ruminations. "I see what you mean. One of these things is not like the others."

"Exactly." Ethan marched over to a bookshelf and began throwing books. They crashed to the floor as he searched for something, anything to get them out of there. He had an inkling when he arrived that he had been there before. Maybe he had. Maybe this inkling was a memory and not just an inkling.

"Don't you see what he's saying?" Bobbie asked Gia, Octavia and Steven. He counted each of them off one by one. "Operative. Operative. Operative. Civilian with Operative." Bobbie then pointed to Ethan. "Wouldn't it then make sense that Ethan is Ethan considering we're all operatives? Why stick a killer in with us? I'm certan there is more of us coming. Look at the table."

For the first time, the rest of them took in the sight that garnished the table setting in the study. There were ten perfectly shaped candles. Each resembled one member of the Legacy.

"Here is me. You Gia. Octavia." Bobbie stalled. "Even you Mr. Webb." He thought a moment. "Why would there be one of you? They couldn't know that you would save Octavia from the helicopter crash. It was pure coincidence."

"Maybe it wasn't," Ethan said simply. "We're each here for a reason. You said earlier that Ezekiel wanted his daughter back?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Who were the operatives responsible for her kidnapping?"

Bobbie's eyes grew wide at the realization blossoming in his mind. "Your father, my father..."

"A freelancer named Silas." Steven Webb offered his two cents into the conversation.

"Your father?" Ethan asked?

"Yes."

"Looks like we have a winner," Gia said sarcastically. "But there is one problem with your theory. I don't know who my father is."

Steven's hard eyes met Gia's. "Looks like someone has the inside scoop, sister. I doubt very much gets past them. Your past included."

Octavia stopped examinating the miniature wax idols of themselves and said, "But my father never worked for the Legacy."

"Yes, but he was part of the Bulgarian Underground rebels," Ethan knew what he was saying was true. Zeller was the madman who had them trapped inside the large mansion. "Maybe Ezekiel's daughter was taken via the underground. If so, he would be a possible suspect to someone like Zeller."

"NO!" Octavia stalked to the bookshelf and kicked the area that Ethan had recently cleared of books. Her foot slammed into the empty space time and time again. "NO. My father vould not have done such a thing. Never kidnapp someone else's child."

Ethan put a calming hand on Octavia's shoulder. "Maybe he was a victim of one man. Maybe they all were."

"Who, who vould kidnapp children?" Octavia pulled free of Ethan's grasp and moved to the opposite corner of the room.

He wanted to keep them all at arms length. Octavia had the right idea. He was sure who had initiated the kidnapping. The memory that had hauted him for years blossomed into his mind full blown.

He knew it was Franklin. He was certain of it. More certain then he ever had been. The memory that came to him told him that. It was the memory that shook him to his very core and confirmed what he had feared for years.

His father had kidnapped him from his parents.

***

Alison and Jared ran to safety from the avalanche. He was still in massive pain, but he had a clear head. Alison, however, was in major panic mode.

"We're not going to make it," she yelled, running at the top speed she could manage. Her pace was still slower than Jared's.

"We will, just keep running!" he shouted. The words he spoke were overshadowed by the grumble of the mountain as it gave a great shudder and disintegrated beneath them.

Alison's screams caught in her throat. She was going to die.

***

Jared fell straight down landing on his back Debris fell into the hole on top of them knocking the wind out of him and rendering Alison unconscious. He had to get her and himself to safety before they were completely trapped by the avalanche.

His bruised body didn't want to listen to his inner commands. He wavered and wobbled once back on his feet. He was still feeling the effects of whatever had been injected into him.

Jared drug Alison's body to a vantage point far enough away from the diameter of the hole to keep them away from any more falling debris. Alison laid in an uncomfortable position over rocks and dirt, but he couldn't help that. He was more focused on discovering an exit. The hole they had fallen into resembled a mine shaft. The construction was crude, but he was pretty sure it would be safe enough to use as an escape tunnel. The only problem was... he didn't know where this particular tunnel came out.

***

Franklin Fairchild gazed in on Kevin. It was too bad, really. He had more hope for him to overcome the coma state. In previous trials, only the strongest survived the programming Franklin had subjected Kevin to.

It truly was the ultimate failure. He'd had so much hope that Kevin and Ethan would both come out on the strongest side. Ethan had. Kevin had not. Franklin would give Kevin one more week, then he'd have him cancelled. Ethan, on the other hand, would come in very useful for his future projects.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Fairchild? His secretary approached from behind carrying her notebook-sized PDA and stylus.

"We must protect our secret by deleting any files related to Ezekiel and the candle killings. No one must know that we set up many of the deaths."

She glanced nervously in Kevin's direction. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to discuss this in a more secure area? Maybe in one of our white rooms?"

"No, he's no security threat to us."

The secretary wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she had to defer to Franklin's expertise in these situations because he was, after all, the boss.

"Whatever you say."

"And don't forget to delete any files regarding the agents involved, including my personal research on them. Save that onto a DVD for me hidden in the usual place."

"You want me to delete even the files of the high profile agents like Ethan, Gia and Octavia?"

Franklin responded without feeling. "All of them."

He spared a glance in Kevin's direction. "Kevin's included."

***

Kevin Fairchild awoke to voices outside his hospital room. His most pressing problem had been recuperation, but now he realized there was more going on at the Legacy than even he could fathom. He groaned and attempted to roll out of bed, but his body wasn't completely in his control. He fell back onto the pillows.

He uttered a crude four letter curse that would rival any sailor's colorful language, then tried to roll over again. This time succeeding. But he lost his balance and soon found himself face down on the floor with a nearly broken nose. He'd bloodied it, but at least a feeling of pain was better than feeling nothing trapped in a coma.

It took him an hour to crawl to the door leaving a trail of sweat and blood smears behind him. Kevin collapsed in the doorway on his back hauling in deep breaths.

"I don't need this, God," Kevin shouted. "A little help here?"

He could hear a voice down the hallway. It was that crazy nurse who was his own personal little stalker. He tried to crawl out of the doorway to avoid being seen by her. The last thing he needed was the attention that little blond chick would bring to his new self-appointed mission – to find out what in the hell his father was up to. He never had been his father's biggest fan, but then again, he always did figure there was something a bit off about him. It was Ethan who was blind to their father's faults.

Maxie drew closer and closer as she completed her rounds. Eventually, she would come into his room. There was no way to hide from her. It had taken everything in him to crawl to the door. Maybe if he played his cards right, and turned on the charm, he could gain the psycho girl's trust rather than have her report his newly awakened condition to his father, Franklin.

There was no telling what was ahead for him if his father found out that little tid bit.

"Maxie," Kevin whispered, trying to draw only her attention. "Maxie."

Maxie Demarco appeared in the doorway, her eyes were hooded making it difficult to gage her intentions. What she did from this moment on made the difference between life and his death.

***

Jared traveled a bit up the passageway to see if it was safe. What he found was a bit dodgy, but if they were careful, the could make it. Where the tunnel opened up, he wasn't sure, but anywhere was better than being trapped where they were. Or so he thought.

"Alison! Wake up!" Jared said suddenly. "We have to go. We have to get out of here."

"Jared?" she said groggily. "I just had the craziest dream."

She opened her eyes slowly only seeing his concerned face cast in shadow, then she noticed it was freezing cold, which probably had something to do with the pile of snow only a few feet away. Alison sighed with disappointment. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"Hardly." Jared glanced around looking for something to use as a light source. A pain wracked his head dropping him to his knees. In a split second his mind traveled back to the Legacy infirmary where he and Alison were being treated to counteract the effects of the strange blue candle that had been delivered to him. In the memory, he could see Alison lying on a gurney similar to the one he was lying on. Then voices appeared out of the fog of his flashback followed closely by the faces of the people who had extracted them from the infirmary. The faces weren't the ones he was expecting to see.

"Kaye and Dare?" Jared whispered. "It can't be. I don't understand. Why would they..."

A sudden noise had him spinning around positioning himself to protect Alison from harm.

Mackenzie Gray and Echo appeared out of the shadows. They were unconcerned with his startled demeanor and Mac answered Jared's partial question.

"They were working for a source high up in the Legacy ranks who wants a number of agents dealt with, and extreme prejudice is putting it mildly.

Mac reached his hand out to Alison. Her face was contorted with confusion. "You're both dead. I saw you."

"You saw what we wanted you to see. You and the people who had been tailing your every move," Echo said. "I'm pretty sure we've convinced them we're no longer a threat."

"What?" Alison sighed loudly. "What in the hell is going on?"

"Plenty. More than we have time to explain here." Mac handed both Jared and Alison a coat and a light stick. "If you're up for it, why don't you join us in kicking a little ass."

"Exactly whose ass are we kicking?"

"Ezekiel Zeller."

"The billionaire?" Alison balked. "Don't you think it would be a bit conspicuous killing such a high profile man?"

"Oh, I'm not going to kill him," Mac said mysteriously. "What I have planned for him is much worse than that."

Echo slid up beside Alison. "Don't worry about him. He means well, but Zeller and this dark contingent he used to work for was responsible for Mac's parent's deaths."

Alison wasn't sure how to respond, so she said the only thing that came into her head. "I'm sorry."

"So will they be when Mac gets a hold of them."

***

Octavia Kassoff had in her eyes the look of someone who knew what was going on, yet chose not to react. She was an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions. They (The Legacy Brass) had made her once choose between her lover and her father. One day, they would pay for that order.

She didn't want to be where she found herself today... Throwing herself at Steven Webb was one thing, but this directive was too much. It was too much to ask of her. Franklin wanted Steven Webb back in the fold so he, in turn, could cause Silas Tremaine, Steven's father, to return.

Octavia could hear the voice in her earpiece com-link prodding her foward.

"I know what you're thinking," the Voice said. "Just think of him as that bananna split you never allow yourself to have."

But you're not the one who has to eat the damn thing, she wanted to say. But she couldn't respond to the taunt. Ezekiel Zeller had the entire house wired. Any whisper could be heard and recorded. She was not looking forward to her new directive, not at all, no matter how good-looking the aged Zeller truly was.

Ethan Fairchild had escaped the study where they were being held minutes earlier through an unknown secret passageway. He was on his own now. It was up to him to contact the other agents who were in on this particular sim.

Octavia donned a pair of fake, fashion-conscious reading glasses and pretended to thumb through a book in the library. She didn't need reading glasses. They were devices that allowed others to see what she was seeing. It was the Legacy's version of a mini spy camera.

The Voice, as she had deemed her new earpiece partner, recorded the data the eye glasses picked up. He related to her the only route in the house that would lead to where Zeller was hiding out. She gritted her teeth as she received the intel and slipped from the locked room without incident.

Outdated locks. Didn't they know better?

She hoped the Voice knew what he was doing, because she wasn't about to expose herself to this horrifying process more than once.

"One hundred meters then turn left." The Voice's command didn't sound as calm as he intended. It sounded more like a request posed as a question.

"Hum." Octavia muttered loudly, loud enough that Ezekiel Zeller could hear her and come out to investigate.

Time for the game to begin.

THE LEGACY HAS MANY REASONS
TO LEAVE REALITY BEHIND!

x

Ten Little Spies - Episode 12

Episode 12: Gun Play Part 2
by Sabrina Carol

Kaye Corday in Ten Little Spies.

There was a light. An effulgent light. The kind you woke to on a tranquil Sunday morning, and gladly encompassed you in its warmth. There was a slicing pain. The kind that threatened to split the human skull in two. If this was heaven then he sure felt like hell.

Dare Ransom winced as he shifted his head to take a good look at his surroundings. He was inside his apartment, sprawled out on his comfy brown leather sofa, rangy legs hanging limply over the side. He gritted his teeth while forcing himself into a sitting position. Dare's recollection of the night before was more or less a dense fog. The only thing he clearly remembered was consuming too much liquor and--- there was something else. . . A stream of memory slowly trickled into his conscious mind.

Hands. Female hands tearing at his shirt. Dark flowing locks.

Dare's brown eyes fell to his open shirt, where several buttons were missing. Yes. . . he remembered. How could he ever forget?

"Dyan?" he called her name. He started to rise from the sofa only to regret it when the living room swirled around him. He fell backwards onto the leather seat and reached for the stabbing ache on the side of his head. He felt the makings of a gauzy bandage and tape covering his left temple. Obviously, the night before had been far from a fantasy. What had happened? What did he--- or they do?

Needing to know Dare appealed to his wife again. This time she answered, the patter of her feet coming from the bedroom. He turned on his side, relying on an armrest to hold his tousled head.

"Dy. . ." her name died on his lips.

Kaye Corday stood in the open doorway. Fresh from sleep, her blond hair hung loose, framing her pretty face. "Good morning," she gently said, her hands traveling down the seams of an oversized blue shirt covering her slender body. "I hope you don't mind. I needed something to sleep in."

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Dare stammered in confusion.

Her cool green eyes gazed at him in open curiosity. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Dare's heart thudded in an unnatural pace. "Is there something I should remember?"

"Yes," she lightly nodded. "Yes, there is."

***

Dyan Ransom felt more like a spy than a worried sister invading her sister's home. She hadn't ventured there very often, and unlike her twin Allison, Kaye rarely issued invitations. She anxiously fondled the gold key in her right hand. She knew Kaye hadn't actually wanted her with the it to begin with, but gave it to her anyhow. And even then it was at Dyan's insistence.

Dyan's jeweled eyes inspected what was suppose to be her sister's home. The apartment--- a testament to Art Deco--- was visibly styled with great care. Smooth artic walls, chic furniture rimmed in chrome-plated steel and canvas padding flowed from room to room. Everything was as it should be.

Dyan paused in the kitchen. Not even a mug was out of place. And therein lied the problem, she mused to herself. The apartment was strictly a front. A nice showroom for when people happened to drop by. Only the surrealism paintings decorating the bedroom walls provided a clue to the person who dwelled there.

Dyan found herself admiring the strange and fascinating work a then teenage Kaye had created. Kaye's use of color and the ability to tell a story through the stroke of a brush always captivated her. And in the end it always haunted her. Dyan deeply inhaled at the sight of the last portrait her sister ever did. It was a harsh abstract painting of a woman shaped with slicing colors, and oddly fragmented through cubism inspired art. It was the only one her sister ever did after the operation -- the operation that changed everything.

"Stop it," Dyan ordered as feelings of guilt begin to bubble up inside her. Now was not the time to be falling apart. A righteous anger pumped through her veins. It hadn't occurred to her that her employer, Adrian Zeller's sudden interest in her was more than the typical fancy. She began to pace to-and-fro. "The nerve of that man and that woman!" she seethed, at the thought of Dagmar Krause. The sweet little old lady turned out to be a tarantula. "And his aunt too, ugh."

Dyan's fury gave way to exhaustion and she slumped onto Kaye's bed. Her sister hadn't been home last night. For the first time in Dyan's life she was relieved to not know where she was. Any minute Adrian would be walking through that door ready to commit murder. She couldn't help but wonder what insanity drove her there. What was she hoping to accomplish staring down the barrel of a gun?

Peace.

Tears spilled down Dyan's cheeks as the sadness of her life hit home all at once. She had made hard sacrifices for the love of a family that wasn't hers, only to betray them with the threat of her own mortality.

No one leaves the Legacy.

Franklin Fairchild's words gripped her as dark memories from her youth came rushing back. She had managed to escape. But at what price? She was so alone. Allison was gone. Kaye had left her long ago. Her husband, she had pushed away. She didn't deserve Dare. She never did.

A dull ache filled Dyan's chest. She had used him. She married him simply to stay near to Kaye and Allison. There was something tragic about an unrequited love. But in the end she did love him. Now it was too late. He was one more sacrifice she had to make.

In the near distance there was the quiet opening and closing of the front door. Deliberate steps softly crossed the living room floor, moving to the bedroom. Dyan's heart raced as they inched closer and closer. . .

***

What the bloody hell was she doing here?

Dare strained to sit up, not caring about his throbbing head or the rising urge he felt to heave his guts all over the living room floor. He had apparently spent a very uncomfortable night on the sofa while the female he now considered an enemy slumbered in his bed. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and trying to piece together the events of the previous evening was proving brutal on the mind.

"Come on and think, you moron." he demanded of himself. He knew now that any words coming from Kaye's mouth were more likely to be pure fabrication. The way she lied to Dyan had opened his eyes. Dare felt another stab of pain, and this time it wasn't physical. Was it all a dream, he mulled while picking at his torn shirt. Of course not.

"Kaye!" Dare yelled in spite of the unbearable pain it caused.

Kaye returned to the room. He peered at her through unveiled eyes. The way she held her head, the way she walked, everything about her. The quiet sweetness he once thought to be humble and secure was now revealing a cocky veneer he hadn't seen before.

"Do you remember this?" She inquired, removing his pistol from behind her back.

"What do you plan to do with that?" He asked, finding himself dreading the answer.

Kaye gestured to his bandaged forehead. "I believe that's something I should be asking you." Seeing even more confusion in his face, she continued. "Apparently you had a lot to drink last night. I don't know what was going through you mind, but you had this gun. You were ready to use it." She held up the palm of her hand. "Not on me, mind you."

A sudden flash seared Dare's muddled thoughts. He remembered. Oh, how he wish hadn't. He held his head in hands out of disgust or shame, or both.

Kaye sat down beside him. "Why would you even try to kill yourself?"

The very idea of her questioning him infuriated Dare. "Why," he mimicked, gripping her arm so tightly she yelped in pain. His eyes burned into hers. "You have the audacity to ask me this after I put my life and career on the line because of your lies. The same lies that has stolen the one person I love more than anything in this world away from me."

"Oh no," Kaye breathed, slowly crumbling before him. "She told you. You don't under---,"

"Understand what," he angrily insisted. "Understand that you're a liar, a kidnapper, a traitor of your friends, your sisters -- a disgrace to the Legacy."

Dare's words slammed like a fist into her and Kaye jerked away. "You don't know," she said, enraged. Her hand clasped his pistol in a vice, turning her knuckles white. Dare found himself believing her to be more than capable of murder; not the kind committed to protect and to serve, but the kind that slaughtered the innocents without feeling or consequences.

"I did everything for the Legacy," she said adamantly. "I'm not a disgrace, Dare. I followed orders given to me by my superior. Yes, I lied. But I did it because I had to not because I wanted to."

Dare looked at her in comical disbelief. "Orders by your superior? Would that be Franklin Fairchild? Guess what Kaye, I don't trust a word you say. I think you're incapable of telling the truth."

"You are so blinded by her," Kaye muttered through gritted teeth. "You haven't a clue about the woman you're married to."

He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You're the one who doesn't know her. Dyan's entire life has been about you and Allison. She's given up everything for you--- including me. That's how much she loves you."

Kaye stood up and walked over to the fireplace. A jubilant laughter came from her mouth. "For such a smart man you can be completely dense." She smiled at him in bemused condescension. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret," she said and held the gun to her chest. "Dyan only married you to remain closer to me and Allison. She has never loved you--- maybe cared, but love? No. She used you Dare. Why do you think it's so easy for her to toss you out like yesterday's garbage?"

Dare stumbled off of the sofa and onto his feet. "You're a damn----," but before a he could get the words out he doubled over in cramps, and landed in a heap on the floor. "Oh God--"

Kaye was at his side immediately. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know."

"This isn't right," Kaye murmured. She reached for the phone and quickly dialed the Legacy. "This Agent Kaye Corday. I need an EMT dispatched to Agent Dare Ransom's home fast!" She hung up the phone. Her hazel eyes filling with sadness, she squeezed his hand. "Dare, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." She went to kiss his finger tips only to stop. They were a strange purplish-blue. "Now that's weird. What could've--- the candle. I forgot about the candle. How could I have been so stupid." Her eyes strayed to where the remaining broken pieces scattering the carpet.

"Candle," Dare sighed in a feverish haze.

"The candle, Dare, do you have any idea where it came from?" Kaye demanded.

"Dyan. . ."

Kaye's brows knitted together in thought. "Dyan, that doesn't make sense. More likely Adrian Zeller." She looked deeply into his eyes. "Are you certain it was Dyan?"

Dare didn't bother to answer. Suddenly he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

***

If Xavier Mortez was frightened his stoic face didn't show it. It served only to rile Franklin Fairchild even more. The clicking sound from his thumb pulling back the hammer of his semiautomatic gun heightened the tension in Franklin's office.

"You have a serious problem doctor," Franklin said gruffly. "Dare Ransom is far from dead. And one of my best agents--- the one you were suppose to have under control--- has gone astray." He aimed the barrel at Xavier's head, and received a satisfying jolt when the genius' right eye twitched. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger."

Xavier licked his dry thin lips. "Firstly, I know Mr. Ransom isn't dead. The purpose of the drug was to make his death seem normal. A sudden illness. . . unlike the rather obvious way you chose to kill your previous spies." Seeing Franklin's index finger flinch over the trigger, he sharply inhaled. "But I digress. As for Ms. Corday. You and I both knew ahead of time the chances of regaining control of her mind were very slim."

Franklin's mouth twisted in displeasure. "That is where I disagree. I pay you to make the impossible happen. Unfair it may be. But life has a tendency to be that way. Especially if you're not the one with the power."

"Franklin," Xavier spoke with a parched tongue. "Ms. Corday's condition is fragile, if even that. The chip you had implanted in her head years ago has caused serious repercussions not only for her health, but mentally as well. The human brain has a habit of being fickle. You can't alter a person's memory with expecting a fall out."

"Yes, I know the chip is failing," Franklin said carefree. "That's where your drug was suppose to come in."

"The chip is not only failing. It is literally decaying inside every agent you misguidedly inserted with it. Every time it short-circuits it creates tiny almost undetectable brain hemorrhages that cause the blood veins to slowly clot. This is the reason for Ms. Corday's headaches. Without removal of the chip she will die. . . and even so, she will more likely be rendered insane when her true memories return clashing with the alternate ones you created."

"Then I lose," Franklin nodded in disappointment. His regrets were temporary, and quickly replaced with an unreasonable hatred. "Apologies to your wife and children. I'm afraid that isn't the answer I wanted to hear."

"If I were you, I would seriously reconsider my actions," Xavier hastily stated. "You see, I have made provisions upon my death. For instance, every dastardly secret you harbor shall be revealed in personalized documents to the FBI." He sighed heavily, pausing to massage the bridge of his nose. "I knew one day it would come to this. After all, I may have a gift of genius, but I am a mere man, not God. I can not control a person's will, or murder with conscience. In other words, if I die then so shall you and your Legacy.

A ghostly smile played on Xavier's lips. "But then again. . . since I have received word I am to report before the U.S. Security Council I have a suspicion your time has come. It seems they have been monitoring your moves concerning a chemical agent entitled Black Rain."

Franklin felt his flesh freeze over. He was done.

"I should be getting back to my work." Xavier said and exited the office.

The gun clattered onto Franklin's desktop as reality sunk in. He had to leave. Now.

He snatched up the phone and punched in a series of numbers.

"Mr. Fairchild what can I do for you?" the operator answered.

"Ready me a plane for take off. I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere."

***

Adrian Zeller hesitated at the bedroom door. He thought he heard the distinct sound of a woman crying and it tore at him completely. He glared at the cold steel in his hand. A part of him knew what he was attempting to do was total lunacy. But it was something that he had to done. At least that what he kept trying to convince himself on his way over to Kaye Corday's apartment.

A ripple of anxiety coursed through his trembling hands. At first he was surprised and then suspicious at how easy it was to get inside her apartment. She was a Legacy spy. It seemed she would bolt lock her door instead depending on the little doorknob lock to do the trick.

He heard her sniffle and sigh.

Then again her mind was obviously elsewhere.

Ignoring the growing queasiness in his stomach, Adrian shoved open the door and strode confidently into the bedroom. His blue eyes widened in absolute shock. "What the devil are you doing here?"

Dyan eyed the gun with red-rimmed eyes. "Waiting for you."

"For me?" Adrian questioned, pointing the gun towards him before hurriedly turning it back to her.

"You and Dagmar should be more careful about where you plot your schemes." she said in disgust.

Realization hit him like a brick to the forehead, but Adrian refused to waver. "Well, in that case you were foolish to come here."

This seemed to amuse her. "Look around you Adrian. Kaye isn't here. So what are you going to do about it."

Adrian grimaced. What was he going to do about?

"All right, you're coming with me." he said, dragging her from the bed.

Dyan pulled away. "I don't think so."

"Don't tempt me. I'm the one with a gun." he warned.

Dyan's lovely face turned stubborn. "You don't have the guts."

Adrian felt like kicking himself. What was it with women! They never listened to him. Adrian thought about the tongue lashing he was going to get courtesy of his aunt when she heard about his latest misadventure. His eyes filled with venom when he imagined Dagmar standing there instead of Dyan.

"I wouldn't bet on that," he said viciously and pushed her toward the door. "No sudden moves, or your husband will find himself a widower."

***

Melanie Peel turned around just as the EMT wheeled in a man on a stretcher. But it was the woman jogging alongside the victim that caught her attention.

"It couldn't be," she breathed.

But it was her in the flesh.

"It will be taken care of," Melanie mimicked Dagmar Krause's thick accent. "So much for that." And so much for her unusually early day off thanks to Franklin Fairchild's sudden emergency.

Melanie followed Kaye Corday inside the ER , but kept her distance as she pondered the unexpected glitch in her plan to a fortune. She whipped out her cellphone and speed dialed Dagmar. "We have a bit of a problem," she said when the elderly woman answered. "You did not take care of Corday. She's in the Legacy, standing right before me." Melanie rolled her eyes as the woman shot off a fresh round of insults about her nephew. "So now what do we do? Me. I'm not killing anyone. That wasn't apart of the deal. But---,"

Melanie closed the phone with an angry snap. She frowned at Kaye while the petite blond waited like a loving wife for word of her husband's condition. Gaining a stronger resolve, Melanie knew there was no way in hell she was blowing a million dollars. She made a beeline for the operative.

"Hi Kaye," she greeted. "You mind if we talk."

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of something important?" Kaye replied sharply.

Melanie glanced at the man the doctors we busy scurrying about. A broad smile came to her lips. "Dare Ransom, I see. I do think our talk will do you some good."

Kaye roughly massaged her throbbing temples. "Leave me alone, Melanie."

"Let me put it to you this way," Melanie folded her arms across her chest. "I know what's ailing Dare. And if you want to know then I suggest you follow me outside." Without so much as a look back, she left the ER. It wasn't long before Kaye was right behind her.

"This had better good, or else." Kaye threatened.

Melanie opened her purse and dug until she found what she was looking for. It was only for emergencies, so she never actually had to use it. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Kaye's eyes enlarged at the site of the silver barrel carefully aimed and hidden from prying eyes.

"Don't take it personal," Melanie instructed awfully cheery. "For the record, Dare is going to get better, so don't worry so much. However, in the mean time I suggest you come with me. And whatever you do don't try anything funny, because I would hate to use this."

"Why are you doing this?" Kaye questioned.

Melanie gave her a mischievous smile. "Because I have a date with a billionaire. And you, my dear have a date with a madman."

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