Ten Little Spies - Episode 11

Episode 11: Gun Play
by Sabrina Carol

Adrian Zeller in Ten Little Spies.

Franklin Fairchild slammed the door shut. He stared with open hostility at the man sitting much too comfortably in his office chair.

"Eh, boss man, your five minutes late," Nick Noretti greeted in his usual high spirits. "Wasn't it you who said an agent should always be on time?"

Franklin raised one thick eyebrow. "Firstly, I'm not an agent---"

"Nah, you're just the man who runs the whole operation." Nick interrupted.

"--- And secondly," Franklin continued without pause. "If you value your ass, remove it from my chair."

The dark haired Italian with the savvy smile gracefully hopped up. "Relax, just keeping it warm for you, is all."

Franklin sat his steaming cup of coffee down and took his rightful place behind his large mahogany desk. "You're spreading more sunshine than usual. Hopefully, that means you have good news for me."

"Depends on your idea of good." Nick snickered.

"Get to the point, Noretti."

Nick clapped his hands together. "Right, Dare Ransom." He began pacing the floor in excitement. He wasn't an operative by any stretch of the imagination; but, rather a man for all purpose. Nick was like water; he simply adapted to whatever Franklin needed him for. "I have a nice one for you. Your man, Dare had a busy night. For starters, he rolled in late--- looked as if he knocked back one too many if you asked me. Anyhow, his soon to be ex had been waiting outside for over an hour. The dame worried me at first because she became curious about your little package."

"Tell me she didn't," Franklin rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Relax," Nick assured him. "She didn't open it. Mr. and Mrs. Ex went inside. About ten minutes later Mrs. Ex came storming out like a tornado."

Franklin slammed a fist on the black lacquered desk. "Get to the damn point already," he ordered in aggravation. "Is he or isn't? And if you say he's not, the good doctor will be."

Nick gave a sly grin and removed an envelope from his back pocket. "Well, when I last peeked in on Ransom his was looking very stiff." He tossed the package to Franklin and waited in anticipation.

Franklin's tense face crumbled and fell on sight of the pictures. "Oh no," he sighed heavily.

"Oh yes," Nick said with a big toothy grin. "Seems to me Agent Kaye has better things she'd rather be doing--- if you catch my drift."

Franklin launched out of his seat and Nick quickly stepped back. Franklin mashed the call button for the front desk. "Melanie, have Dr. Mortez haul his over-paid ass into my office now." He glared at Nick. "You get the hell out."

"I'm going, I'm going," Nick vacated in a hurry.

Franklin closed his weary eyes to the world. It seemed everything was unraveling around him. Every loose-end he tightened gave way to another loose-end. "I will not lose," he vowed. "Not now. Not after all these years."

The office door opened and in walked Dr. Xavier Mortez. Franklin had a natural aversion to the pharmacologist. If it were not for his genius, Franklin would have axed him long ago; but, as things stood, Mortez held a solid hand in his plans. And at this moment Franklin considered him the root to everything that was going wrong.

Franklin zeroed in on him with absolute malice. "Dare Ransom is still alive, and I'm losing control over one of my prized agents. Your excuse had better be brilliant," Franklin pulled the gun from his shoulder holster. "Or the cleaning crew will be scrubbing your brains from the walls tonight."

***

"Oh great," Melanie muttered, spotting the crack in her thumb nail. Secretarial work was hell on her manicures. She snatched her nail file from a cup holder, and began filing her right thumb. Most of her work day consisted of waiting to do something. She was the phone-girl, the coffee-girl, the file-girl; and, if the day happened to be popping, she was the go-to-girl for when things needed to be done swiftly.

Since her tenure at the Legacy, Melanie had become an important asset to Franklin Fairchild. For such an isolated figure she always managed to have her eyes and ears open to the covert happenings inside the organization. Her keen awareness also made her a valuable source for those who sought to breach the confidential walls of the Legacy. Yes, Melanie had built up quite a nest egg for herself--- and her latest alliance would bring her even greater rewards.

Satisfied with the repair to her thumb nail, Melanie tossed her file onto her desk and got down to business. She pulled her chair in closer, and leaned into the computer. "Okay, now what was that number?" she mumbled to herself. "L-6-8-9-8-3-H 9-1-3-1-6-Q."

Melanie nervously toyed with a strand of golden brown hair. She had a knack for memorizing numbers, letters, any data of sort. Last night in Franklin's office she had only managed three passing glances over an important file FF was planning to give to Kaye Corday. If Melanie's hunch about it having to do with the so called 'Candle Killer' was correct she was about to hit pay dirt.

Melanie's wide grin disappeared when her monitor went blank. "Don't do this to me now," she begged. She sighed in relief when a picture began to download, and a bunch of words flooded the screen. Her almond eyes quickly scanned the information. "All right, what's this all about," she murmured, picking up where she left off. Melanie was tickled pink when she saw Adrian Zeller's picture. Yes! The Gods of fortune were smiling down on her.

But Melanie's glee was short-lived when the information finally sank in. She dug her cell phone from her purse and hit speed dial. "Pick up, pick up," she urged, but there was no answer. Irate, Melanie slammed the phone close. "Adrian, where the hell are you?"

***

Adrian Zeller hated being in the company of his aunt. The idea of living in the same country, state, or town, much less being in the same room with her made his skin crawl. She had cold dead eyes that looked like death. It was hard for Adrian to imagine her ever as wife and mother when she literally gave him goosebumps. He looked on with avid curiosity while she escorted a satisfied customer out of Zeller Specialty Shoppe. She was almost grandmotherly.

Adrian shrugged and muttered to himself. "I suppose what little warmth is left in that brittle old carcass somehow makes it through the pores of her liver spots."

"You idiot!" Dagmar Krause whirled on him the second the customer had gone.

Adrian almost jumped out of his black Armani suit. "What, I didn't say anything," he declared, fairly certain the old bat couldn't have possible heard from that distance.

Dagmar marched towards him wagging one crooked finger. "I warned you to avoid Franklin Fairchild at all cost. The less pronounced your presence the less likely he is to suspect you." She moaned as if in physical pain. "But what more can I expect from Zelia Cheklov's child."

Adrian felt the sharpened knife of her words nearly emasculate him on the spot. An agitated nerve on the right side of his face began to twitch repeatedly. In the short period of time, Adrian knew his aunt he had become very acquainted with her venomous tongue. He would give anything to remove her claws from his ribs, but, alas, Dagmar was the only one who knew how to handle his father. She was also important because she was the last of the underground rebels who fought against the Legacy. Her knowledge of Franklin Fairchild was golden. Unfortunately for Adrian, he still needed the viper on his side.

"I fear we must move quickly now," Dagmar drawled in her heavy accent. "If I seek to ever extract revenge on that devil it must be now."

"You seem to forget this isn't simply about you," Adrian located his backbone and spoke up. "This is also about doing unto Fairchild what he has done to Ezekiel. But more importantly, finding the daughter Fairchild stole from my mother and father."

***

Tired and an hour late for work, Dyan Ransom trudged through the back door of Zeller Specialty Shoppe. She shrugged out of her navy trench and hooked it on the rack next to Dagmar's. An unlady-like yawn escaped her lips as she rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes. She barely got any rest last night. Instead she tossed and turned with constant worries about Allison, Kaye, and even her estranged husband, Dare.

Dyan caught a glimpse of herself in a dusty, ornate mirror sitting on a shelf. She wiped the glass clean with the sleeve of her red sweater, and took a good long look at her reflection. She felt like hell and it showed in her face. Her violet eyes seemed darker than usual, and were rimmed with heavy bags. Her skin was paler and lines beyond her maturity were beginning to show.

Dyan pulled a 'Scarlett O'Hara' and pinched her cheeks. Two rosy buds promptly bloomed. She still looked like crap, but it was better than nothing. Beginning to feel the heat from the radiator, Dyan pushed up her sleeves and started towards the front of the store. She partially opened the storeroom door when she heard the clear sound of Adrian Zeller's voice.

What the heck is he doing here?

Sure he owned the Shoppe, but Adrian was one of those bosses who made it a point to never drop by. Dyan reluctantly opened the door all the way only to again close it partway. She had never seen Dagmar so angry. In fact she had never seen the elder woman mad, period. An amused smirk played on Dyan's lips. Leave it to, Adrian. . .

***

Dagmar's rounded chin smugly tilted upwards. "35 years long, and now you choose to scrape your pride up from the floor. Ha! Do kind to remember I am the one who managed to secretly invade the Legacy. I am the one who has plotted to use Franklin's own wicked scheme against him. I am the one who says when and where to strike. And I say leave that damn Dyan Ransom out of this!

Adrian rubbed at the blond stubble lining his jaw. "At first I was inclined to agree with you," he nodded. "But after yesterday --- the way she raided Fairchild's office with such familiarity. She's a civilian with plenty of access to the Legacy. I'm certain there is more to Mrs. Ransom than we realize."

"Possibly so," his aunt agreed. "Still, time is of the essence. You haven't it to be playing mind games with her."

The loud ring of a cell phone filled the store.

"That would be mine," Dagmar sniffed and reached for her purse behind the counter. "Hello," she answered. Her withered face went through a series of expressions before settling for one of anger. "It will be taken care of." She pressed the phone off. "We have a serious problem thanks to your stupidity. Ms. Peel discovered Fairchild has placed a spy by the name of Kaye Corday after you."

Adrian looked genuinely surprised. "Did you say spy? A spy named Kaye Corday?"

"Yes, you moron," she insulted. "I'm standing three inches away from you and you still can't follow correctly. You really are your mother's child."

Adrian didn't know what came over him. He had never attacked a woman in his life; and, he didn't want to start with an elderly one. But he had more than his stomach full of disparaging remarks, especially about his mother.

Dagmar's soulless eyes widened in shock when his fingers enclosed her throat.

"In my lifetime I have only loved one woman--- my mother," He spoke with trembling fury. "I will not stand for one more slur against her, or I will snap your neck in two."

Her wrinkled lips turned upwards into a sickening smile. "Yes, that's it. Now take that murderous rage you're feeling and go slaughter Kaye Corday." She patted his right hip to feel the hard steel beside it. "The little gift I gave you ought to do the trick."

Adrian pulled his hand away. "I'll be back later."

"Don't bother," she said. "I'm going up to the mansion. It seems our guest, Ethan Fairchild has arrived. In fact, we have a full house."

Adrian didn't say anything, but continued to the door.

"Adrian," Dagmar called after him. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He halted at the door. "And what would that be?

"Kaye Corday's home address. How else do you expect to find her you stupid fool?"

The old woman's hearty crackle echoed in his ears. His once mighty shoulders began a downward slide. He opened the door and walked out into the cold morning light. It was just another day in the life of Adrian Zeller.

Don't miss a minute!

Ten Little Spies - Episode 10

Episode 10: Cloak of Darkness
by Sabrina Carol

Franklin Fairchild and Kaye Corday in Ten Little Spies.

Unable to take anymore of the pain, she shoved the considerable white pill into her mouth, and eagerly gulped a cup of water behind it. She rested her head against the cushioned back of the armchair, a sigh escaping her lips for the relief soon to come. Inside a matter of minutes the throbbing ache began to subside giving in to a drug induced stupor. Her heavy lidded eyes fluttered closed, and her right arm fell to the wayside. She felt the Styrofoam cup slipping from her fingers, but was helpless to stop it as it splattered onto the floor.

Kaye Corday ran a hand across her dampened forehead. She was so pale and perspired as though she had a fever. Using her thumb, she carefully smoothed a sweated blonde curl from beneath her chin. "This is what I look like dying," she whispered to her reflection. Only it wasn't really her. It was her twin sister, Alison, who was fighting for her life.

Witnessing the one she shared her entire existence with laying in such a tragic state yielded a softness in Kaye she'd thought long dead. Alison looked sweet and fragile like a child. It seemed unimaginable that her sister could harm anyone.

"And yet you did," Kaye quietly spoke to her. "Once again your foolishness has hurt innocent people--- and this time you, as well." She leaned down beside the hospital bed, and held Alison's frail hand between her own. "Poor Jared, he never had a chance. You just had to have him--- even if it meant stealing my life. Alison, why do you have to be so selfish?"

Evidently realizing she was touching someone less desirable, Kaye pulled away, letting Alison's hand flop to the bed. She stood up as tall as her 5'3 frame would allow. Her green-yellow eyes traveled the length of the intravenous tube injected in Alison's arm to the I.V. bag.

Kaye deliberately twisted the tube around one finger. "You won't be needing this where you're going," she said matter-of-factly and tore it from her sister's flesh. A pool of blood quickly gathered at the open wound. Never the one to leave things unkempt, Kaye wiped it away with the bed sheet.

"It's time we be on our way," she announced. Not wasting another minute, she removed the breathing tubes from Alison's nostrils.

"Kaye," the surprising voice came from out of nowhere. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Her eyes popped open, round and wide like saucers. Still believing she was in her sister's hospital room, Kaye gazed in confusion at the man standing over her. "What - what did you say?" she questioned groggily.

Franklin Fairchild hovered above her like an omnipresent. "I said what the hell do you think you're doing," he answered gruffly. "Didn't I warn you to never to sleep on the job?"

Her head starting to clear, Kaye took a calming breath when she realized it was only Franklin and not Dare as expected.

"You're one of my finer agents," Franklin was saying, as he rounded his desk and sat down. "If I wanted sloppy work, Alison would be sitting here instead."

Kaye forced herself to sit up straight. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out of it, but she felt like a ton of bricks. "I think the pain killers Mortez assigned me has an unfortunate down effect," she uttered lazily.

"I'll make sure the good doctor changes your prescription." Franklin said. He was not at all the physically intimidating man one would expect the head of the Legacy to be. He was actually quite grandfatherly in appearance, but anyone within the organization knew otherwise. FF was the heart and soul of the Legacy. Without him they were nothing.

Kaye shifted her left foot and accidentally crushed the fallen Styrofoam cup beneath it. "Sorry about the mess," she apologized vaguely recalling having dropped it.

Franklin waived her off. "Leave it," he ordered. "We have important things to discuss."

She did as she were told and sat back in the chair. "Everything went as planned," she said automatically. "Alison and Jared have been removed and detained elsewhere. They are no longer a problem."

"Nice touch with the elevator by the way." Franklin commented grimly.

Kaye paused as she thought of the bullet ridden elevator. "There was a slight delay with getting in and out. Jared awakened, forcing me to use the sleep aid. Otherwise, everything went smoothly."

Franklin's eyes remained trained on her. Though he didn't say a word, Kaye knew he sensed her reluctance to further comment.

Finally, Franklin rapped his heavy fingers on his desk. "And nothing more happened?"

"Yes," Kaye answered slowly as she instinctively back-tracked to cover her steps. "I'm afraid I let my emotions get the better of me. Alison is more than my sister--- she is a large part of me. Ultimately, I chose to do what was best for the Legacy. She had become a security risk that needed to be handled. And so I did." This seem to please Franklin and she relaxed.

"That's what I treasure about you Kaye," he spoke as if a proud father. "You always make the right decisions. When the unexpected happens you wisely map out a new course of action." He took a swallow of his steaming coffee and cleared his throat. "So, nothing unexpected came up--- besides the elevator, of course."

Flashes of Dare went through Kaye's mind. She'd already betrayed him once to her sister, Dyan, and she was not willing to do it again. Oh, how she hated having to make him the object of deception, yet it needed to be done. But no matter how much Kaye tried to convince herself what she did was right her heart would not accept it. What did it buy her, but only a few moments of time? And now the minutes were ticking down like a time bomb ready to explode in her face.

"I'll take care of that soon to be ex-husband of mine."

There was no doubt in Kaye's mind Dyan meant every word of her threat. The only thing she could do was repair the damage she caused, Kaye thought as she glimpsed the speeding clock over Franklin's desk--- and fast.

***

Dare Ransom was halfway up the walk to his apartment when he spotted his wife sitting at the foot of the stairs. He had just spent the last hour in a local pub trying to delay the inevitable blowout they were sure to have. Not to his surprise, Dyan had been more than willing to wait alone in the dark for him to return home.

At one point in his life, coming home to find his wife tarrying with a book on the verandah was a welcomed sight. But the more happier times of their marriage had become distant memories. Now they were separated and a pending divorce was all they had to look forward to.

Recognizing, Dare's silhouette, Dyan stood up, but unlike times passed, she did not call out his name or meet him partway. If Dare hadn't comprehended their reality before, after the advancing evening, he now knew that it was over between them. Back at the hospital, Dyan's venomous account of what it meant to be Dare Ransom had torn the blinds from his eyes. There wasn't going to be a second chance for them.

Your sister-in-law, close friend, and deceitful backstabber is to blame for this.

"No," Dare muttered rebelliously to the voice in his head. "Kaye's lie simply exposed the truth."

Then perhaps you should send her a black rose and a thank-you note.

"Better yet, five knuckles to the jaw and demand to know what the hell she's gotten me into."

Growing angrier with each shifting thought, Dare forced Kaye from his mind. He would deal with her soon, but right now there was Dyan.

"Dare," Dyan acknowledged him apathetically. She had taken the care to change clothes since leaving the hospital. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail. She fingered a small gift-wrapped package she was holding. "I guess you're surprised to see me here after the last unfortunate get-together." The barrette holding her brown mane reflected the dim beam from the porch light.

A thin smirk crossed Dare's lips when recalling the fever-pitched argument back at Dyan's. What a fool he had been. "Tell me, what devil do I owe this visit to?"

"It's nice to know that misplaced humor is still intact," she replied bitingly. "Look, I'm only here because something serious came up and we need to talk about it."

Dare sidestepped her as he mounted the stairs. "In that case, lets take Round 2 inside. I don't want to make a bad impression on my new neighbors--- yet."

Once inside, Dare regretted it. He wasn't exactly known as the most shipshape person. The minor grimace on Dyan's face spoke volumes. She toyed with a dingy shirt in a heap on the floor with the tip of her boot. "Still fighting proper hygiene, I see."

Dare purposely flung the leather jacket she had given him two Christmas' ago on the back of the sofa. "Good maid service is hard to find." He ushered himself over to the mini bar. "Care for a drink?" Dare asked, already pouring himself a glass of scotch.

"No thanks," she answered disapprovingly. "And quite frankly you look like you've had more than your share."

Ignoring his wife's concern, Dare took a large swill of the drink and savored the malted barley on his bitter tongue. He waited for the liquor to burn down the back of his throat, giving him the extra kick to handle the hurling accusations coming his way.

Dare gestured to the brown leather sofa. "You're allowed to sit, you know," he commented, while settling into the comfortable cushion. Dyan sat across from him.

"I'm sure you know what happened to Alison," she said with a sigh.

A vivid memory of a stricken Alison in the hospital passed quickly through Dare's mind. Rattled by guilt he took a sip of his drink and shifted uneasily. "I feel terrible about what happened to Alli," he spoke sincerely. Instinctively, Dare reached out and took Dyan's hand in his. He expected her to pull away, but she didn't. "I can't say I know all that you're going through right now, and I won't pretend to. But if there is one thing I know, the LEG will get to the bottom of this. Alison will be all right."

It was then Dyan pulled away. "I don't have as much faith in Franklin Fairchild's Legacy as you," she said quite bitterly. "I've spent most of my life trying to protect my sisters, still my best efforts were never enough. There is always something --- and the Legacy is a big part of that something."

"Dyan---," Dare tried interrupting.

She held up the palm of her hand. "Let me finish," she said intently. "You and I have been through a lot--- and are still going through a lot. But never did I believe I would have to protect my sisters from you."

Dare knew it was coming, yet the weight of her words hit him like a ton of bricks square in the chest. The angry tears in her eyes cut at him like a blade to the heart.

"You kidnapped Jared Quinn, and you used Kaye to do it," she accused him. Dyan rolled her eyes and stood up. She wiped a fallen tear from her cheek. "Don't give me that broken-up look either. You can't even deny doing it."

"No, I can't," Dare deadpanned. His trembling hands belied his true feelings as he was forced to sit down his scotch. "How did you find out?"

"Kaye told me the truth."

A lazy grin crossed Dare's ruggedly handsome face. "Dear Kaye she could never lie to you."

Dyan shook her head in disbelieve. "I don't know you anymore. I don't think I ever did."

It was all Dare could do to prevent himself from laughing at the hilarity of the situation. "And you said we could never agree on anything," he remarked instead.

Dyan snatched up her pursed. "Fair warning, Dare. Stay away from Kaye and Alison, or I will make your life hell." Just before she left she tossed the package she was holding into his lap. "That's for you." A few moments later the front door opened and banged shut. She was gone.

"And the rest, as they say, is history," he murmured and drowned the rest of his scotch. Dare fingered the gift box before tearing away the gold foil in an angry fit. He removed the cover and carelessly tossed it to the floor. "What the ," Dare muttered eyeing the crimson candle. He picked it up and the heavy scent of roses invaded his nostrils. Almost intuitively, Dare looked at the bottom of the candle. A capital Z was etched into the base.

A streak of hot jealousy ran through his veins when he recalled Adrian Zeller at the hospital with his wife. "I'll be damned," he uttered furiously, getting the message loud and clear. He gripped the candle with both hands. Soon the grip became a strangle hold and his body convulsed with angry trembles. In matter of seconds his fury gave way to an unstoppable wave of pain welling up inside of him.

Tears spilled from Dare's brown eyes, and he found himself embarrassed and ashamed all at once.

Listen to yourself, sniveling like a baby, the voice in his head mocked.

"Shut-up," he hissed.

You have the nerve to wonder why she's gone. The sight of the real you would sicken anybody.

"I said shut-up."

You're not even worth the air you breath.

"Shut-up!"

The candle collided against the wall with such ferocity it broke into several pieces and scattered the floor. Dare's chest rose and fell in heavy succession. He grabbed the bottle of scotch from the mini-bar on his way out to the balcony. Dare took several gulps and leaned forward onto the blue arm-rail. He eyed the night sky in weary contempt. If only he could fly away. . .

***

"Kaye?" Franklin's commanding voice intruded into her private thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked promptly.

Franklin opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Instead, he removed a picture from a manila folder occupying his desk. He slid the color glossy across the black lacquer top to her. Kaye leaned back in her chair as she studied the photograph. It wasn't long before Kaye recognized the man she was staring at, and found herself unpleasantly surprised.

"That man is Adrian Zeller," Franklin spoke her thoughts aloud. "He is the son of a former militant who once tried to destroy the Legacy. Now his father is no longer of any concern. But what knowledge the young Zeller may have acquired from his father is."

Kaye tore her hazel eyes from the picture. "Knowledge of what sort?"

Franklin rubbed at the stubble darkening his chin. "Any form of propaganda that may support the underground rebels his father helped conceive. I want this man put away just like the beast who spawned him."

Kaye was surprised by the malice filling Franklin's voice. "But sir," she said, carefully choosing her words. "This man may be the son of a former nemesis, but I doubt if he's a gun toting gorilla in private. He's renowned across the globe for his candles. Dyan even works for his downtown store."

"Which makes you the perfect candidate for the job," Franklin nodded, not perturbed by her skepticism. "You're close to the situation. You can easily get inside and get me what I need."

"But what if there isn't anything to get?"

If Franklin was put off by her reluctance he didn't show it. He leaned forward on his elbows and folded his hands. He looked at her with solemn eyes. "We've been having a lot of conversations about candles lately. Wonderfully scented candles that burn deadly poison." Franklin reached into his desk and removed a compact translucent container from the top desk drawer. He pushed the item of interest towards her. "This came from the lab."

Kaye examined the partially melted wax. She noticed the slightest engrave of what looked to once be a N or even possibly a Z.

"The toxicology report revealed heavy traces of hydrogen cyanide," Franklin continued. "It was in both the candles Jared and Rudy received."

"Hydrogen Cyanide?" Kaye questioned. "If that was released from the candle wouldn't that have caused an explosive reaction when mixed with air?"

Franklin answered with a nod. "Luckily the candle wax subdued the compound reaction; nonetheless, it was still strong enough to kill Rudy and almost Alison and Jared." Franklin stopped when he saw the shocked expression on Kaye's face. "My apologies, I forgot you didn't know about Rudy."

Kaye gazed at the picture of Adrian Zeller with hardened eyes. "Apparently, there are a lot of things I don't know."

"Now do you understand why it's important to find out everything possible about Adrian Zeller?"

Even with all her boss and mentor had laid out before her, Kaye couldn't silence the nagging doubts in her head. "But why would he be so bold as to use candles from his own company?"

Franklin raked his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "His father, uncle, and cousin were bold in their stance. It's a Zeller trait." He stood up, stretched and handed Kaye the manila folder on his desk. "You'll find all the information you need in there."

Kaye accepted the file and replaced Adrian's picture inside. "I should be going," was all she said and started for the door.

"Be sure to get a good night's sleep," Franklin called after her. "And remember this is between you and me only."

She nodded in agreement.

Exiting the office, Kaye closed the door with a firm click. "I'm afraid sleep and Adrian Zeller will have to wait," she mused to herself. She thought of Dare. "Right now I have more important things to do."

***

Franklin Fairchild restlessly paced his living room floor. He was tired, but couldn't sleep. The day had been long, leaving him to wonder if it would ever end; and, yet, at present he was anxious for the sun to rise again.

He took pause at the panoramic view. Twinkling lights danced across the city, making for the most breathtaking scene. Franklin pressed his right palm to the glass. From his eyes he seemed to grasp the world in his hand. The Legacy had given him infinite power; so much so, it dared to consume him.

A slow chill shivered through Franklin's bones. The moment of self doubt was passing, but still slit into his flesh like an icicle, leaving a painful reminder of his own immortality.

The grandfather clock echoed hauntingly from the entrance hall. A sigh escaped Franklin's lips. In a matter of hours one of his best operatives would be reported dead. It was a hard sacrifice, but it had to be done to further his intentions.

Franklin massaged his forehead and sighed again. "Kaye, if you had followed my instructions, Dare Ransom wouldn't need to die."

His jaws clinched tight at the thought of Kaye's mistake. There was nothing he despised more than disobedience from his agents. With the blink of an eye they could be eradicated.

A thin smile crossed Franklin's lips. He had molded Kaye to be exactly what he wanted. She was special.

His smile hardened.

And so was Ethan

"For now, Kaye you will stay but only for now."

***

"Dare?" Kaye called out standing in the open doorway of the apartment.

Silence.

Kaye fingered the fractured doorframe. Upon arrival she had found Dare's front door half open. Quietly stepping inside, Kaye studied the locks. Everything was normal. There were no signs of forced entry, or even a suggestion that the door had been locked in the first place.

Kaye frowned at the splintered wood. "Odd, very odd," she murmured, cautiously closing the door behind her.

A part of Kaye wanted to panic. What if something terrible had happened to Dare? As an operative for the Legacy, she lived with the knowledge that anything could happen to her. Danger came with the job. The agents lives were always at risk by outside forces--- thoughts of Jared and Alison plagued her ---and sometimes inside forces too.

Kaye forced herself to remain calm. Entering the living room, everything seemed normal at a quick glance. Dare's leather jacket was draped across the back of the sofa. A near empty glass of liquor sat on the table. Kaye curiously picked a piece of torn wrapping paper; it looked to be nothing. Crumbling it, she tossed it back to the floor.

Her probing eyes froze at the fireplace wall. A tightness seized her chest. A scarlet stain blotted the cream wall. Kaye took a calming breath and inched towards it. With closer inspection she knew it wasn't blood. Her head hung in relief and she saw the broken candle pieces.

"Oh no," she whispered, picking up one of the fragmented wax. Thankfully the candle hadn't been lit, leaving Kaye to wonder the growing mystery in Dare's apartment.

A abrupt noise caught her ear.

Glass shattering. The balcony.

Kaye shoved the piece of wax into her jacket pocket. She intended to have it examined at the LEG lab as soon as possible. With stealth movement she neared the balcony. The closer she came to the open door the better she could hear someone fumbling about.

Kaye concealed herself behind the door, and stole a glance around the corner. Her heart nearly collapsed. It was only Dare; but, her relief was short-lived. Time seemingly slowed as she watched him raise the gun, aim, and enclose the trigger with his finger.

"No!" her scream tore into the night.

***

There was a flash of light and Dare felt his body thrown backwards. A startling pain exploded in his skull. He saw a thousand stars in the midnight sky. They looked so close and he reached out to touch one. A feeling of peace came over him. Was this death?

"Dare," she beckoned for him.

She came to him like an angel of mercy cloaked in darkness. He felt the warmth of her hand on his cheek.

"Oh Dare, my love,"

Her lips softly pressed against his own. A fallen tear salted his tongue. He knew she would come.

"Dyan," he heard himself say.

Her mouth emblazoned a trail from his chin, to his neck, and found the bare spot on his chest. With one hand he grasped at her dark mane and happily stroked his fingers through her hair.

The kiss deepened. Kaye felt her mind drifting between ecstasy and madness. He had called her by her sister's name. It was Dyan he saw and not her. A burning fury erupted in her, but she did not stop, instead growing hungrier with each taste of his lips his skin.

A gratifying smile crossed Kaye's face. He dreamed of Dyan, but it was her body that brought him the long-awaited pleasure he sought.

Kaye slipped her shirt over her head. Dare uttered Dyan's name again. This time the pleasure was all Kaye's.

"Of course, my love," she breathed leaning in for another kiss. "However you desire me"

Don't miss a minute!

Cloak & Dagger - Episode 11

Cloak & Dagger
Episode 11
by Toni Walker

Ethan Fairchild in The Legacy's mission:
Cloak & Dagger

Ethan Fairchild could feel his body crashing. The sterile walls of the Legacy facility swirled in a bizarre kaleidoscope of fractals. The floor, doorways and office furniture jumbled in his vision causing his equilibrium to leave him. He could feel the electronic surge effecting his nanites, increasing their capacity.

He knew something was wrong but his body had stopped functioning. He felt stuck in place, his feet glued to the dirty tiles in the hallway. Like a car with its steering wheel locked up, Ethan maintained a robotic stance, frozen in place, for many minutes. And when his legs would no longer support his weight, his body collapsed.

Senses were the only functioning aspect of Ethan's body. He could almost mentally picture his brother, Kevin's, GPS tracker. All Legacy agents had one embedded in their shoulder. Every agent except him, that is. The nanites had disabled it as soon as they'd been introduced to his system back in Bulgarian ten years earlier.

The GPS signal was like a throbbing warning light, warning him to stay away from the tech. Ethan didn't know why. It was almost as if he could sense the nanites intentions. They opened themselves up when he was weak and they were in control.

Ethan's mind drifted into an almost dream-like state as Legacy personnel hefted his body onto a gurney and wheeled him into the infirmary.

The lights of the operating room faded as a technicolor meadow loomed before him. He forgot he shouldn't be able to smell the grass or feel the wind, but it was as if he was truly standing there in some sort of false heaven.

On a blanket in the middle of a field sat a young girl no older than eight. Her dark hair rustled in the breeze. From afar he could see she was playing a game of cards. As he approached he could tell it wasn't playing cards in her hands. They were tarot cards. But it was the back of the cards that drew his attention and had him taking a step back. The cards were decorated with the image of Madam Zoltan.

"Where did you get those?" he asked.

"They're a special deck. My grandmother made them. She was a gypsy in Romania."

As Ethan focused on the Madam Zolton face, he was transported to another place, a dark alley, a city in the middle of the night. The streets were vacant. And only sounds of distant traffic disturbed the silence. It took a few minutes to realize in this reality, he could only watch and not interact.

The haunting voices of young boys shouting insults niggled at the back of his psyche, vapors from a past long forgotten. A boy of twelve or fourteen cautiously watched the shadows as he made his way through the darkened narrow streets of a nameless European city. His navy logo-less t-shirt and dark jeans melted his image into the night.

He was very good at avoiding the obstacles in his path. The boy easily evaded two guards positioned around a darkened theme park. When he came to a chain-link fence, the boy pulled a pair of wire cutters from his bag making an opening only large enough for his small body to fit through.

Once inside where there was a bit more illumination, Ethan realized where he was and exactly who the boy was.

That young boy was him!

***

Bette didn't know where she was going in why this is happening to her. She got the photographs, cyphers and notes from the kitchen table shoving them into messenger bag along with her identification, bank records, and laptop. She had a feeling her apartment might not be here when she got back.

She ran to a local restaurant downtown that was up for sale. It was a locale she had used once in the past. No one could connect her to it. She felt safe hiding out there temporarily.

The first order of business was to find out who Jacques Dupree was and exactly who it was that had warned her.

Once she had her laptop set up in the restaurant's office she did a search for the phone number of the person who had warned her. The search came up with nothing.

It was a burner phone registered to John Smith. Someone was definitely covering their tracks.

Bette got as far as she could with the computer searches. All she was coming up with was a big fat zero.

She stared at her reflection in the ornately decorated bathroom of the restaurant. Her eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, not exactly a great look for her. On the back of her arm was a red patch in the shape of a square, exactly the size of the dissolving patch they used to subdue suspects. Could someone knocked her out? Plus those things had a nasty memory erasing function. Exactly how much of her memory had been compromised?

* * *

Talking to Agnes Edgington, the housekeeper, wasn't the problem. Getting her to her was. Faith had been to the estate a few times as a child, but she didn't have clear recollections of her time there.

There was only one door in the library and that was the only option they had at the moment. Fouts worried about the amount and location of guards. It was a statistic Fergus couldn't readily supply. This fact annoyed Fouts. He didn't like going forward practically blind. The trio slowly open the ornate door and hid in the shadows. All the curtains were closed giving the interior and more black appearance. They waited for a few beats. When I heard no movement out the door, the three of them made a break for the hidden hallway only the servants used. Daniel found it ridiculous people treated each other this way in today's day and age. But it was obvious Chandelor Knight believed himself above the law.

The secret hallway was vacant when they stumbled inside. It was also a very narrow passage, barely wide enough for the width of a man's shoulders.

"Can't you call labor board? Don't you have a union?"Faith asked. "This is like eighteenth century thinking. You're all practically slaves."

"We feel lucky to be employed by a man such as Mr. Knight. This is only a temporary situation. Once we get rid of Liz, everything will go back to normal," Fergus said.

"I wouldn't bet my bottom dollar on that."

* * *

Bette Marsden studied the files and photos from the table in her apartment. The one of the man in shadow interested her the most. She scanned the image into her computer and began manipulating it in Photoshop. She gave the image more brightness and found the man's face clear enough for an attempt at photo recognition. She connected to the Legacy's database to make the comparison. Thus far she had access to Legacy resources, but if they realized she was going out on her own her access might be nixed.

The search came back relatively quickly. This man might be someone the Legacy really valued. Two men stared back at her from the computer, both were identical in appearance.

"Ian and Ethan Fairchild. Interesting," Bette mumbled. "Sons of the director."

She studied the photograph again. Whichever Fairchild this was, he was being taken prisoner. Getting back the son of the director might be profitable, and she needed funds quickly.

Bette noticed a landmark in the background.
She knew that mountain. It was in southern Bulgaria.

It took only moments decide. She was going to Bulgaria to retrieve a Fairchild and cash him in for a wealth of dough.

Ten Little Spies - Episode 9

Episode 9: Surprise, Surprise
by Toni Walker

Ethan Fairchild and Octavia Kassoff in
Ten Little Spies

Alison Corday wasn't sure how she'd gotten herself into this mess or exactly what was happening. All she had done was try and seduce her twin sister's partner. That wasn't so bad, was it?

How she had come to be here, she wasn't sure. She only had one man's word on that. The man named Mackenzie Gray had told her she'd been kidnapped from the Legacy's infirmary. But that didn't make sense. Her last memory before coming awake was lying on Jared's bed awaiting his return from the bathroom.

She wasn't completely sure she could trust this Mackenzie character. As far as she could remember, he was a vague figure from her past, a very vague figure. Of course, he was cute and therefore she remembered him, but whether he was a good guy or a bad guy remained to be seen.

Alison needed more information if she was going to deal with this on any level. Maybe what she needed right now was an old-fashioned seduction. Mac was handsome enough, so it wouldn't completely turn her stomach to extract information out of him.

The only problem was -- when would they ever be alone?

***

Looking for answers, Bobbie Sullivan stumbled over the body of Gia Doyle -- literally. "Oh, my God!" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

If Gia had been discovered by any other operative, she would have been dead or worse.

There weren't many people he could trust in the Legacy ranks, but he knew of one he could count on. Bobbie paged the man's number.

"I'm in Section 3B. You have to help me. It's Gia. There's something wrong with her. Give me a minute and I'll have Jeffrey loop the security cameras so your identity is safe."

A fifteen minutes later, Dr. Mitch Grayson appeared to assist Bobbie.

"What happened to her? he asked.

"I don't know," Bobbie admitted. "I just found her like that."

Mitch was beyond paranoid. He had learned to be that way since becoming a doctor at the Legacy infirmary. He began removing Gia's clothes and giving them one by one to Bobbie.

"What are you doing?" Bobbie asked somewhat embarrassed by Gia's state of undress.

"You know as well as I do that they could put a tracer on anything. I'm just playing it safe. I want all of us to be alive in the morning." After removing her clothes, he slipped a hospital gown over her head. "Get rid of the clothes. I don't care how. Just do it."

Bobbie and Mitch went their separate ways. Mitch carried Gia a short way. She was so pale. He'd never seen her look like death before. He was more upset than he could express. He and Gia had and on again, off again relationship. He had enjoyed it for years. Seeing her like this was killing him.

"I'm very sorry about this, Gia," he whispered, as he placed her inside his car and sped away leaving Bobbie alone on the mountain.

Bobbie ran after Mitch's car. "Wait! Wait!"

What in the hell was going on? Bobbie suddenly had a terrifying feeling that Mitch may have just kidnapped Gia. No, he thought, trying to convince himself. Mitch was his friend. But he had gotten to the mountain awfully fast, almost as if he had been expecting his call.

Before Bobbie could contemplate on the situation any longer, someone came up behind him. It was Ethan and a girl he had never seen before. Ethan elbowed Bobbie in the face and he fell to the snow-covered ground.

"That should take care of him," Ethan said.

***

The room where he found himself was unfamiliar, but that didn't seem to matter much considering he felt like five kinds of hell. He wanted to speak, but couldn't find his voice.

What happened to me, he wondered.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a voice said with too much enthusiasm. "What's it like on the other side?"

Jared Quinn held his head in his hands. "Other side?" What was this person talking about? And who in the heck was this person?

"Officially, you were clinically dead for just under three minutes. And I'm sure glad you're back cause Mac would have been so PO-ed if you'd croaked."

Jared didn't recognize the voice and didn't know if he wanted to. The man sounded looney tunes. "Okay, spill. White light? Long tunnel? Loved ones meeting you? What? What did you see?" Echo asked, curiously.

"Wha...? Nothing. What are you talking about?" Jared finally opened his eyes wide enough to take in the entire room. "Where am I?

Echo stared down at Jared in concern. He wasn't aware that his appearance made him look extremely suspicious. His black hair with bright yellow streaks seemed more appropriate for a drug dealer or maybe a comic book animator.

"It's a safe house. Mac brought you in, you know, to be... safe."

Jared closed his eyes to stave off the ache that was building inside his head. "Who's Mac?" He didn't realize he'd said the words aloud until the punk-haired kid answered him.

"He's one of the good guys."

Jared sighed. He didn't think he was going to get a straight answer anytime soon, so he attempted to get up. Big mistake. Every ache in his body sprang to attention.

"Whoa there, partner," Echo cautioned. "We're not exactly sure what drug you were given, but until we find out, I think lying down is a good option."

Jared refused to give into the pain. Every muscle fought him but he knew he was more than his body. He was more than the pain.

He was halfway across the room before Echo made an attempt to stop him. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"Get out of my way, kid!" Even in his present state of agony, Jared was able to knock the boy across the room with the swipe of one hand.

Echo fell to his hands and knees. Damn, he hated it when the operatives became troublesome. He licked the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth then reached for the cell phone in his pocket. This was definitely a job for Mackenzie Gray Super Spy, because he had had enough.

***

Now was the time.

The kid had disappeared somewhere in the safe house. She and Mackenzie were alone. It was time to put her plan into action, but how? This place wasn't exactly conducive to a seduction scene. Thread-bare sofas, dripping faucets and frigid temperatures were all she had to work with.

"God, it's freezing in here," Alison muttered. "When are you going to get me those clothes you promised me?"

The man across the room probably didn't know the meaning of the word clod. Men like him were born furnaces. Mackenzie glanced up from the make-shift tactical area he and Echo had arranged.

"There's a blizzard coming. We'll have to make due with whatever is in the house."

Alison sniffed in indignation.

"A gentleman would lend me something of his own to wear."

Mac's eyes thinned to slits. "I never said I was a gentleman. This was not working at all. She had no clue how to even approach this man, much less seduce him. Maybe her idea wouldn't work after all, considering what a chicken she was.

"Mac, we've got a problem." Alison could hear Echo on Mac's wireless headset. It was so quiet in the room, his voice seemed to resonate.

"What is it?" Mac said gruffly, never taking his eyes off the computer screen.

"What do you want first? The bad news or the even worse news?"

"What's wrong, Echo?"

There was a brief silence then Echo's voice returned. "Jared's gone. He practically gave me a concussion getting away. But that's nothing compared to what's coming."

"Just spit it out, Kain." Mac's eyes trailed to Alison's slight frame sitting on the sofa.

"You know how this safe house is at the bottom of a mountain? We'll the authorities have scheduled a controlled avalanche this evening. One problem... well, make that two. According to their stats, this cabin is abandoned and since the land it's on belongs to the county..."

"They're going to flatten it?"

"You got it." Echo sighed. "The other problem is that Gia is still up there on that mountain trailing our friend Mr. Fairchild. We've got to warn her."

Mac raced from the room leaving Alison completely alone. Now she was never going to seduce that info out of him.

***

Octavia watched as the moonlight glinted off the silver firearm.

"Vhat do you vant," Octavia asked, her Russian accent becoming thicker due to the late hour and the previous actions she and Steven Webb had been involved in before Irish Quinn thrust a gun in her face. She was very tired of having to watch her back 24/7. When did a girl get time off for herself?

"Isn't it obvious?" Irish's eyes glittered with not only evilness but pain. "I've come to invite you to be my personal guests to a dinner party."

Octavia and Steven rose slowly from the bed where only minutes before they had been lost in each other's arms.

"What's this all about?" Steven asked, his hulking form an almost even match to Quinn's.

"My employer would like to invite you to his get together. If you had been a good little spy and died when that candle exploded, we wouldn't be needing a personal meet and greet." Irish waved his gun toward their clothes. "Now get dressed. We have a little trip to make."

Octavia didn't know about Steven, but she wasn't going to hang around and let a wise ass lead her to some sort of personal slaughterhouse. She didn't reach for her clothes or a gun. She knew she was trained better than he was by both the KGB and the Legacy's elite force. He didn't know who he was dealing with.

She stood perfectly still as Irish waved the gun at her again. Her stance slightly tilted and like a cobra attacking its prey, Octavia struck Irish with a kick to the throat.

He staggered backward, his eyes watering. Steven reached for his gun, but even in his discombobbled state, he still knew to keep a hold of his weapon. Irish pointed the silver Glock at Steven.

"You do that again, and loverboy here, buys it."

Octavia didn't know the meaning of the word stop. And she hoped Steven didn't either. She thrust a few jabs at his gut while Steven reached for a lamp and smashed it over Irish's head. The man toppled to the floor. Even before he hit the carpet, Steven had his gun.

"Ve have to get out of here," Octavia said. "They know where I am."

"They? Who are they? And who are you, come to think of it?" Steven dressed quickly as did Octavia, but she didn't feel the need to answer his questions.

Before they grabbed supplies and set foot outside Steven's hidden abode, he reached for her. "Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?"

"No." Her one word answer held all the venom she had for whomever had sent their attack dogs after her. "We leave, now."

Octavia reached for the curtain to check her exit route when Steven opened the door. "Vait!" she cried.

A gun sounded and Steven toppled to the floor. He had a tranq dart in his leg. She should have warned him that they needed to be cautious, because whomever they were dealing with were strictly professional.

She had her Beretta in hand ready for her attacker, but the person who walked into the room, wasn't whom she was expecting. "Marian?"

"Hello, Octavia. Surprised to see me?"

Octavia had to admit she was definitely surprised. Octavia would have never suspected that mousey Marian would even have the courage to hold a gun much less shoot one.

"Vhat are you doing here?"

Marian Noble had dust and dirt on her clothes, and a bloody smear on her cheek but she was alive. She had apparently survived the helicopter explosion.

"I nearly died because of you today." Marian spat. "It was supposed to be so easy. Just get you to the estate. That was all I had to do, but your damn candle went off early."

Candle? What was she talking about?

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. Nothing personal." Marian aimed her gun at Octavia and shot. The dart entered her shoulder just as Octavia got off a wild shot as she went down. The bullet ricocheted off the ceiling and through a window.

As Octavia slumped to the ground, Irish exited the bedroom looking like he'd been through the ringer.

"You idiot. All you had to do was shoot them. Not talk to them." Marian said as she slipped the gun into its holster under her arm pit. "Now help me get them to the Range Rover."

It took a few minutes for Marian and Irish to haul the bodies into the dark SUV. After they were finished, Marian dialed a familiar number on her cell phone. "We have them." she said cryptically. "We're on our way to the mansion."

***

It had been quite a while since Mac raced from the room.

In her slight panic, she had searched the house and found it empty. "Great," she thought. "Abandoned and alone." That was why she was outside in the freezing cold, with a very ventilated outfit on looking for anyone who would answer her.

She shouldn't be frightened. It was just routine. Things like this happened in the Legacy every day, didn't they? Why couldn't she get used to the whole espionage thing? She was just a cypher person. Someone they came to for code cracking and what not. And in reality, she wasn't even the greatest at that.

Alison threw a quick and slightly frightened glance over her shoulder. Her heart was hammering in sync with her pounding feet. She stumbled, cursed and steadied herself.

"Echo?" she screamed. "Mac?" Where were they? Why weren't they answering?

Her footsteps hammered harder on the grassy incline outside the safe house. Alison had only needed to clear her head, but something was spooking her. She stepped up her pace. A tree root in the path caused her to stumble and sent her flying forward. She fell to her hands and knees. The sight at the bottom of her fall chilled her to the bone.

Mackenzie and Echo were lying in a heap near the base of a large oak tree. It was obvious they had been dragged there and placed under this particular tree for a purpose -- a nefarious purpose.

She had to get out of there. She had to leave before the man or whomever it was tried to kill again. She had almost died once by one of his candles in Jared's apartment. She didn't want to make a habit out of it.

Alison usually wasn't so skittish, but people around her didn't often fall prey to killers bent on revenge.

"What do you want?" she screamed. "Why are you doing this to us? What did we ever do to you?"

Alison could hear twigs snapping and leaves crunching. The man was nearby. Or was it a woman? Whomever it was, they were much too close for her comfort.

"Who's there?" she spun on her heel, whirling around. The sky was as dark as midnight and without a moon to guide her back to the safe house, she knew she was pretty much a sitting duck where she was.

***

"Quite a performance," Jazz Demarco said sardonically holding a small pistol on Ethan. "I felt like clapping."

"What's going on?" He refused to hold up his hands in surrender. He couldn't believe Jazz of all people would turn on him. He had known her since he was a kid, back in the days when he was a confused juvenile delinquent. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that attempt you just made to keep blondie-boy over there out of harms way. Oh, you made it seem like you were the big and bad Ian, the messed up psycho twin, but you didn't pull it off." She motioned him to move with a wave of her gun. "We're gonna take a little walk and see a few friends of mine. It's not far now. And don't worry about him. My friends will make sure he meets us there."

The sound Ethan made could only be called a growl.

Jazz didn't flinch at the noise.

Jazz kept Ethan at a far enough pace ahead of her that he couldn't attempt to disarm her. If she was anything, she wasn't stupid. He tripped when his eye sight went wiggy once again. She only shoved him harder forward. "Don't play pretender with me, Ethan. I know that whole eye sight thing is a put on. According to your doctors, there is nothing wrong with your vision. So, get a move on."

When they came upon a large estate, something itched in Ethan's mind. It was familiar. Almost as if he had been here before.

"Inside," Jazz yelled.

The estate was huge and the mansion was massive, almost castle-like. Some of my ancestors would be very comfortable here, Ethan thought.

He was led to the drawing room, just off the main foyer. Inside were people he knew. Gia, Octavia and Bobbie. There was something familiar about the other man, but Ethan couldn't put his finger on what.

Jazz pushed Ethan into the drawing room and closed and locked the door behind him.

Bobbie rubbed his head and winced at the pain. "Thanks for the shiner."

"I was trying to keep you out of this mess."

"Okay, but next time, don't sock me in the face."

Ethan's lips thinned. "Next time I'll just shoot you. How about that?"

A voice from the side of the room stopped them short. "Shut up, the lot of you! I have a headache the size of a mac truck and I don't need it getting any larger." Gia's tone was sharp and curt.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Steven introduced himself to both Bobbie and Ethan.

"Did you neanderthals not hear me?" Gia started to tell them all off, but Steven marched over to her before she could.

"Listen lady, either take a pill or I'm going to shove it up your..." Ethan held Steven off from what he was sure would be a just punishment for Gia, but they needed to stick together and form a team if they ever wanted to get out of the mansion alive.

Gia snarled at Ethan. "Like I need you to step and and start playing hero."

"It's not a role I particularly enjoy, but someone needs to." He shook his head trying to expel their petty differences out of his mind. "We need to find out who has us here and why."

"I think I may be able to answer that. Before I left headquarters, I found two possible suspects. One is Ezekiel Zeller. There is major bad blood between him and your father, Ethan. From what I was able to dig up, key Legacy operatives from twenty-five years ago were responsible for kidnapping his daughter."

"And who's the other suspect?" Octavia asked, finally throwing herself into the game.

"The other suspect is... I don't know how to say this but..." Bobbie stalled for time.

"Just spit it out, kid," Gia said with venom. "Today would be good. Before my head explodes."

"It's your father, Ethan," Bobbie said. "I found evidence that Franklin was involved in nefarious activities that involved many of the Legacy's operatives, maybe even all of them."

The shock registered on Ethan's face, but for a man who was told his father could be the devil, he didn't seem completely surprised.