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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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.

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