

The Immortal Progression

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2006 by Rodney Mountain

Reedit © 2017 Rodney Mountain

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

The Accidental Immortal

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Durell's Insurrection

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

Dedication

Wow, another book I haven't written a dedication on before publishing. Hmm, I guess I should probably get around to doing that before I finish this version of editing. I have to dedicate this one to the kids, even though I finished this book the year my daughter was born. This one was a fun romp with a set of characters that are always fun to play with. Hard to believe it's been over a decade since I wrote this.

-Rodney Mountain 5/31/2017
Prologue – The Marden Mine Project

the...he mine manager sat down on the wooden bench in the dark recesses of the mine he had been working on reopening for nearly a year. The interviewer and the cameraman set their final touches on their setup as he looked around at the hot lights. It was his first interview and he wasn't sure what to do.

"It goes like this, Hayden," the interviewer said, "I'll ask the questions, just answer them as best you can. I'll edit any major mistakes, so don't worry about it."

"That works," Hayden agreed, "How long until we start? My men are still working down there."

"I'm ready to go, boss," the cameraman said, "Just give me the word."

"Start the camera," the interviewer shrugged.

The young cameraman nodded and started filming. The interviewer gave a quick intro for the tape and started in on the meat of the interview. Hayden tried his best to avoid looking badly nervous.

"We're here in the first shaft of the Marden Mine," the interviewer said, "This was once a government facility, but it has a storied history. Care to share some of that with us?"

"Sure," Hayden said, "Marden Mine was opened during the cold war as a source of the rare mineral Paladnium. The mine was originally thought to be mostly played out, so the research facility mainly became a placeholder."

"Placeholder for what?" the interviewer asked, "Anything scandalous?"

"Not really," Hayden told him, "Low level radioactive experiments, mainly improving detection badges. The materials kept here weren't even strong enough to use for an x-ray machine, let alone anything scandalous. It was guarded by a four man team just because of the cold war reaction to anything radioactive."

"So what happened here to change things?" the interviewer asked, "There was a problem, yes?"

"An attack," Hayden corrected, "One that still baffles everyone who investigated it. It was sometime in the late 1990's, the mine was little more than an afterthought in the federal budget with a staff of less than a dozen, including the military guards. Someone came in and killed them all."

"How come this never made the news?" the interviewer wondered.

"It did," Hayden shrugged, "Thing was there was never any real evidence. The guards were killed first. The evidence showed that the one in front was tortured for information. There were shells indicating a gunfight in the main building, but it was burned to the ground, which destroyed the evidence. The mine itself had collapsed, and the night's snow destroyed all the tracks."

"Were any bodies found that didn't belong?" the interviewer asked, astounded by this.

"One blood patch outside that didn't belong to anyone who should have been there," Hayden said, "The attackers didn't leave anyone behind unless they were buried in the mine. All the employees and soldiers were accounted for, so no one wanted to waste the money excavating the mine."

"So what brought you back to Marden Mine?" the interviewer asked him, "Why reopen a played out mine that may have little more than a few terrorists bodies in it?"

"The Paladnium mine played out," Hayden said, "Paladnium has very few uses and is usually found in very small deposits. Silver and Gold are rampant here in these mountains, especially deep veins. Marden Mine was an old low grade mine, so we're going deeper to see whether we can find a gold or silver deposit."

"So we're unlikely to find anything from the original shaft?" the interviewer asked.

"We have found a little," Hayden said, "We found pieces of a body that were turned over to authorities, though they were in such bad shape that it's unlikely to be identified. No additional weapons have been found, and I doubt we'll find anything else now that we've made this shaft below the original mine collapse."

"So we're now below the original mine?" the interviewer said, "Or how does this work?"

"We're going down at a sharper angle than was possible with the original mine," Hayden told him, "We might hit the downward shaft of the original mine in a little bit or we might go below it completely.."

The interview went on in this vein for a few minutes with Hayden trying to explain what exactly the downward shaft was for and more mechanics about how the mine worked. It wasn't until the workers a hundred feet down the tunnel came to a breakthrough. The automatic drilling machine was stopped and retracted. A runner went up to get the boss.

"What is it, Scotty?" Hayden asked.

"Breakthrough sir," Scotty said, "You told us to stop drilling if we hit open caverns."

"Get some picks and sledges," Hayden said and turned to the interviewer, "Feel free to get some footage of breaking into the tunnel."

"Let's follow along," the interviewer agreed, "Could be interesting."

"Or it could turn into Al Capone's Vault," the cameraman said, "But at least this isn't live."

Hayden went down with his three crew members to see what they had found. He didn't want to ram through the old shaft if it went deeper than they were at. This also wasn't a clean mine so he was afraid of fuel spills and other flammable liquids or fuel containers.

"How many people are working here?" the interviewer asked, "This seems rather thinly populated for a mine."

"Three people are all that are needed for this type of mine," Hayden explained, "Technology digs the thing, really. They just have to drive it. We won't expand the staff until we actually hit a workable load, keeps the exploration costs down."

Joey, the biggest of the three miners, took a few good whacks with a pickaxe to open up the hole. It was extremely dark inside the shaft, but it looked as though they hit just below the floor of it. Surprisingly, given how wet the region was, the shaft was bone dry, the material of the mountain not being porous enough to allow seepage.

"It's a large shaft," Joey said as he shined his light up, "Nothing nearby. Let me take a few more whacks so we can open it up all the way."

"Shore the area up first," Hayden admonished, "I don't want us to be buried."

It took a few minutes, but they got the steel beams into place and welded solid. It was a faster and more stable process than the wooden structure used in older mines. The interviewer had the cameraman continue filming, figuring that he could use the footage for the documentary.

"Scotty," Hayden said, "You're the smallest. You go first."

"I'm not going in there alone!" Scotty exclaimed, "Not a chance."

"I'll go too," the cameraman said, "I'm almost as small and my camera light is better than his handheld."

"You go first, Scotty," Joey told him, "You know mines better than he does."

Scotty was not particularly thrilled with it, but he nodded his agreement and went into the cavern. He shined his light up at the top, which was a good way up. It appeared to be reasonably solid, so he offered a hand to the cameraman.

"Watch out," Scotty said, "You never know when you'll find something sticking out of the wall or the roof."

The cameraman nodded and turned his camera back on. The lighting did quite a bit for the chamber, and it was shown to be a larger mine section, most likely the bottom of the shaft for the original Marden Mine. The cameraman did a wide shot to get the size of the shaft when he caught something in his viewfinder that he hadn't seen when he walked in.

"Look down in the corner," the cameraman said, "Is that a body?"

Scotty looked at the cameraman and then shined his light down there. It was just at the edge of the light's range, but Scotty was just able to make out the outline of what could have been a store mannequin. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Doesn't look like any corpse I've seen before," Scotty said, "Let's go take a closer look."

The two of them went closer to the bodies. There were two of them; both perfectly preserved. Neither one looked injured nor dead, they were simply lying there as if they were merely sleeping. Scotty looked at the cameraman and shined the light more directly at the male.

"This is unreal," Scotty said, "They can't be dead... I've seen cave corpses before. They usually rot out. It's too damp and cool for them to stay this lifelike..."

"Wow," the cameraman said, his camera focusing in, "This is going to make us famous."

Hayden walked in at this point and was nearly in shock. He looked at the bodies and like the others wondered how they had survived this long. It didn't take long for the rest of them to make their way in there. The six people stood around the two bodies.

The bodies were well preserved, though it was obvious they had been there for a while. They were covered with a thick layer of dust and the clothes showed visible signs of rotting, even if the bodies did not. The bodies were of a man who looked about twenty-five and a woman who looked a bit younger than that.

"Should we report this?" Joey asked, "I mean the feds still have a case open here..."

"I don't know," Hayden said, "They can't be that old. That happened when Clinton was president!"

Hayden leaned in closer to look at them. The man particularly intrigued him. His hair was long and blonde, but the tips were gray as if they came from an old man. The girl's clothing was charred, though her body showed no signs of this.

"Holy moly," Hayden said, "I think they might be breathing."

All of a sudden the man's eyes popped open and he sat bolt upright. The crazed look in his eyes started all the men in the cavern screaming and triggered a fatal heart attack in the interviewer, easily the oldest man in the room. Scotty made the fatal mistake of swinging at the now-animated corpse with his shovel.

"I don't think so!" the blonde man growled, taking the blade of the shovel in the arm, stopping it cold, "Not again!"

He used his other arm to take the shovel away from Scotty and quickly performed a variant of the same move much more successfully on Scotty's neck, severing his young head from his body. This was all the others needed to start running.

The man had no intention of letting them run and trap them again. Joey was first, dying the same way Scotty did. The other mine worker followed soon after. The blonde man slowed down and was about to whack on Hayden when his insanity finally abated a bit and he decided to question the man.

"Who are you?" the blonde man rasped, "Name!"

"Hayden!" he said, debating running, "I don't know what happened..."

"Not surprising," the blonde man said, "What year is it?"

Hayden told him and answered as many other questions as he could. The cameraman who hid behind a bend in the shaft, listened to this in surprise. The interrogation indicated that the man who had formerly looked like a corpse had been down there for well over a decade. He didn't believe any of it.

"Free at last," the blonde man said, "Too bad I can't afford for you to tell the truth. Stone will pay, but I need leverage first."

The blonde man coldly drove the shovel through Hayden's chest, ending yet another life that day. He took the light that Scotty had dropped and walked back into the chamber. He looked at the young girl and touched her cheek. He picked her up and started walking towards the mine exit.

The cameraman walked slowly behind the blonde man, careful not to make any sudden movements. He had turned off his camera light, but still carried it with him in hopes that it would make a good bludgeon if necessary. He stayed behind enough to stay out of the light and watched as the blonde man went out into the sun for the first time in over a decade.

"Come on, Nikki," the blonde man said, "Wake up! We're out!"

The cameraman looked almost in horror as the small girl started stirring. It was like a bad horror movie, and he was the lone survivor among the zombies. He didn't know anything about the history. He just knew he wanted to survive long enough to tell his story. He watched as the blonde man kissed the girl he called Nikki.

"We're out?" Nikki said, "How the hell did that happen, B?"

"Looks like miners," he told her, "I'm not arguing. If what that miner told me was right we've been locked up in that damned mine for over a decade."

"What now, Bolantine?" Nikki asked him, "We're broke, we're naked and in a world we don't know."

"We can fix it," Bolantine said, smiling, "We're still alive. That's what matters at this point. The rest we can fix with time. I had some hidden assets. With luck, some of them are still hidden."

The cameraman saw his chance and ran out the entrance. Bolantine considered chasing him, but decided it wasn't worth the time. He and Nikki found their way over to one of the miner's vehicles and left the site of their entombment before anyone could come in and find the bodies he had left behind.

The cameraman ran as fast as he could, heading as far away from the site as he could. He clutched the camera, and hit eject on the videodisk compartment. He dropped the camera and quickly scrawled "Marden Mine!" on the outside of the case. Unfortunately, he didn't watch where he was going and fell down an embankment, tumbling down to his death and removing the last survivor of the second Marden Mine massacre.

Chapter 1 – Out of Africa

Two years after the second Marden Mine massacre Mason Stone and his companions were still blissfully unaware that Bolantine was back in the wild. The three survivors from the first Marden Mine massacre were not what they looked like from the outside. While they appeared to be two men and a woman in their mid twenties, they were actually medical immortals, much older than they looked. They had been in Africa for two years and had not seen any news from the United States in that time, meaning the massacre had faded out of public memory again.

"What in the hell were we thinking?" Karen Stone asked her longtime partner, "Save Africa, one idiotic war at a time?"

"How was I to know that all sides were bad?" Mason asked rhetorically, "There was no luck to be had in that place."

Mason Stone leaned back in his seat, enjoying the comfort that he had not felt in the two years they had been working in Africa. He stretched his six-foot two-inch body in the Ethiopian Airlines seat and touched Karen's arm. She smiled at him, despite the annoyance she felt over the near miss they had just endured in Zimbabwe.

"I'll settle for going somewhere I can get a good piece of..." Jim Entragian said, stopping himself before Karen could reach over and slap him, "Pie. I want some pie."

"Right," Mason chuckled, "You did ok when we were in South Africa, Jim."

"That resort rocked," Jim agreed, "Too bad we had to go inland. That was hell."

"I've learned my lesson," Mason said, "No way am I going to get us into that type of fight again."

"Your heart was in the right place," Karen reminded him, "It was your common sense that was lacking. We barely made it out of that country without being strung up as witches."

"Spawn of the devil," Jim laughed, "Isn't that what they were yelling in that weird language they had there?"

"That had nothing to do with being immortal, Jim," Mason told him, "They just didn't like us very much."

"It's over now," Karen said, "We should hit DeGaulle in a few hours. From there we take a short flight to Berlin and we can sever the last links to our African misadventures."

"Don't want to stay in Paris?" Jim asked Karen.

"I'd rather be shot," Karen growled, "I may speak French fluently, but I still dislike Paris. Especially after what happened last time."

"What exactly did happen?" Mason wondered, "I remember walking through that big museum, the Louvre or something like that, and suddenly I heard screaming."

"Then Karen running and cursing," Jim nodded, "What was up with that?"

"Prick tried to molest me," Karen said, "When I didn't take that bait he tried to rob me. I just drove his balls up into his torso."

"That explains the quick escape," Mason nodded, "It's only been two years on that, so we definitely don't want to spend much time in Paris. I'm thinking it might be time to head back to the States. We haven't been there since working the Sleeping Beauty murder case seven years ago."

"Do we have the cash?" Jim asked them.

"I made sure we had a couple million in Berlin," Mason nodded, "We're on the last of our throwaway identification sets, but I think we left a couple sets there."

"If not we can get a set there," Karen agreed, "We just have to make it through DeGaulle."

"I still want a night with a hooker in Berlin," Jim grinned, "It's legal there and if we're going to the States it may be my last chance."

Mason nodded and leaned back in his seat. He was used to Jim Entragian's proclivities when it came to employing ladies of the night. Being the odd man out and being immortal was a bad combination. Despite the danger and bad example Entragian set with his actions, Mason was glad he got that energy out of him in a way that caused fewer internal problems in their group.

"How quick is our exit from Paris?" Karen asked Mason, "I'm still worried about running into that prick from last time."

"I got a message from that guy we helped out of Zimbabwe," Mason said, "That lieutenant is chasing after two Americans who shot up the place in a beat up Gremlin last November. He shouldn't be a problem."

"Mase," Jim said, looking up the aisle, "There's something strange about the guy in the front seat."

"What?" Mason said, "You're looking at the guy? You showing a new proclivity that you've never tried before?"

"I don't always look at women," Jim said, "Look at him. His expression, the way he holds himself..."

"The way he's looking at the cockpit," Karen nodded, "Jim's right. Something strange is going on here, Mase. He doesn't look like a hijacker in the traditional sense."

"What tradition?" Mason asked her, "They all don't look like Saudi terrorists, Karen. The first successful commercial hijacking was in 1948, six pro-communist students took over a Greek Airlines plane to escape Greece and go live in then-communist Yugoslavia."

"How do you know this stuff?" Karen asked him, "I swear, it's like living with Alex Trebek sometimes."

"He's German or Swiss," Jim said, "The haircut is precise and he does everything in a rhythm. He's fastidious about his appearance adjusting his tie and even his handkerchief every few minutes. No one else in Europe is that fastidious."

"Possibly," Mason said, "But he could be just another nervous flyer. Hell, with all the crap that Mugabe's government is doing in Zimbabwe he could be just another sickened journalist."

"Maybe," Jim agreed, "But you've been teaching me for years to believe my guts. Something is wrong here."

"Hope for a dry run," Karen sighed, "Last thing we need is another mess in France."

"We're in France already?" Mason asked, "That's not good. That means the French cops will be looking all over us."

"That's assuming it's a traditional hijacking," Karen reminded them, "Remember what happened in New York back in 2001."

"I'd prefer to forget that," Mason said, remembering the time they spent at Ground Zero.

"Should we say something?" Jim asked them.

"Keep it quiet," Mason said, "We say something now and they know they have observant people on board. We only do something if we have to. It isn't our fight otherwise."

"If only you'd said that last year when you suggested we go to Africa," Karen smiled, "That's beside the point, though. I trust your instincts, and I agree, let's keep watch."

Jim nodded and sipped on his drink. He watched the nervous man in the front seat. Mason watched as well, Jim's suspicions enough to raise his own hackles. Karen, not wanting to think about it, reclined in her seat and concentrated on the humming of the jet's powerful engines.

"Maybe I was wrong," Jim said as the plane flew, "I hope."

"I don't think so," Mason said, shaking his head, "Damn."

The man they had suspected at the front stood up and pulled a package out from under his seat. Mason sighed as the man pulled a heavy-duty pistol out of the box and destroyed what little faith Mason had in the laughable security he'd seen in Zimbabwe.

Mason stayed put, but knew from the surprised sounds that several men were doing the same thing in the back of the plane. The leader, which is what Mason was mentally calling the man from first-class, kicked open the door to the cabin and threatened the pilots.

It took less than five minutes for the hijackers to get in control of the plane. No one fought, and the pilots were smart enough to realize that there was no reason to risk themselves unless the hijackers tried to take the controls, which they didn't try to do. The last thing the leader did was order the first-class passengers to the back of the plane.

"What do we do?" Jim whispered to Mason.

"Obey," Mason said, "Quickly."

The three of them were pushed along and their few valuables taken by the terrorists. Mason watched as he walked and took a mental count of the hijackers. He counted five, but knew that there could easily be others out there. What struck him most about them was the difference between their leader, the well-dressed man of European descent, and the other gun toting creatures. The others were African men. This was obvious by their accents, which also showed that they were poorly educated and likely had no business being involved in this.

"One primary," Mason mumbled, "The rest are eye candy."

"Shut up!" one of the lower ranking people shouted in bad French, "Women on the outside! Small men in the middle. Big men on the outside."

Karen had to translate the French for Mason and Jim as neither one of them had any real ability in the language. Despite their two years in Africa Mason still got by with English, German, and Russian. Jim was lucky to be able to order lunch in a French restaurant.

Mason knew better than to argue. Despite being immortal he was in no mood to get shot, especially since the bullet could easily pass through his body and pierce the shell of the airplane. He just hoped the uneducated flunkies of the Europeans knew enough to keep their weapons safed inside the airplane.

"This doesn't make sense," Mason mumbled to Karen and Jim, "One well educated and organized European and four uneducated Africans?"

"That's what it sounds like," Karen said, "You were right about the German. The French that the leader speaks is laced with German pronunciation. No one will accuse him of being a Frenchman."

"I'd do it just to piss him off," Jim muttered.

"So far they are being relatively decent," Karen said, "Other than herding us in here like cattle."

"I'll wait for their demand list," Mason said, "before I came to that conclusion."

He didn't have to wait long. The man from the front of the airplane finally came into the now very crowded coach section of the aircraft. It was very clear now that he was the leader of the whole thing. He finally pulled out a small sheet of paper and took the microphone for the public address system.

"Translate," Mason wordlessly instructed Karen when the leader began speaking in French.

"Liberation movement," Karen said, "A whole lot of noble and clichéd stuff that states he wants the comrades of his African friends freed from the various prisons in several countries. This is insane, really. No one has tried a serious hijacking since the September eleventh attacks, Mase."

"Keep translating," Mason hissed.

"He claims that if the imperialist dogs in Paris listen to him we will be free in hours," Karen said, "None of the others with him seem to realize that he's speaking very badly."

"This doesn't add up," Mason said, "No government does terrorist negotiation now."

"What do we do?" Jim asked, "There's three of us."

"They're armed," Mason said, "And if they shoot it may kill one of the passengers, even if they just hit you. They have the wrong weapons for a plane hijacking."

"The gun of the closest one looks dirty," Karen noticed, "Something badly doesn't add up here."

"If a hostage gets shot one of us needs to angle their way to it," Mason said, "A bullet won't kill us and getting dragged away might work to our advantage."

"The pilots are still alive," Jim said, "I can hear them talking."

Mason tried to figure this scenario out. He had done anti terrorism before, and this one was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his mind. None of it made sense to him. One well-educated man looking nervous and a bunch of uneducated men who didn't know enough but to follow that lunatic.

"One thing bugs me about this, Mase," Jim said, "I've seen that face before. I just can't for the life of me figure out where."

"We saw him coming onto the plane in Zimbabwe," Karen reminded him, "He was talking to that tall man in the police uniform..."

"The other man in first-class," Mason said, "He's from a UN fact finding mission. I talked to him in line... He's about to deliver a stinging report on Robert Mugabe to them... Oh boy..."

"This isn't a hijacking?" Karen asked him, "Is it?"

"They're searching bags," Mason said, "they want to stop the report. This is a perfect way to cover it up. UN agent dies in a hijacking, Mugabe comes out clean."

"Any bets that these chumps with guns belong to Mugabe's opposition?" Karen asked them, "And the German is the one making sure that blame goes in the idiots' hands. So what do we do?"

"Try to stop them," Mason said, "Now that we've figured out their game we have an advantage. Now, we just wait for them to give us a chance to act on it."

"Look across the aisle," Jim suggested, "That man up there is about ready to do something stupid."

"Not now," Mason groaned, "We're not ready to do anything..."

"What do we do?" Karen asked him, "Anything at all?"

A young British man stood up and demanded that everyone be allowed to go back to their seats. The Brit didn't understand or speak enough French to understand the warnings that the leader was giving him. Mason, knowing that the idiot would get himself killed, jumped up and tried to pull the young man to his seat.

"You idiot," Mason hissed, "You trying to die?"

"They can't do this to us!" the Brit said, "We have rights!"

"And they have guns, which unless they have a brand-new design of nonlethal guns means they control the game you ninny!" Mason exclaimed, "Sit down before they shoot us both!"

"Astute," the Brit said and promptly ignored Mason, "Bullshit! You can't do this! This is not Zimbabwe you freak of nature! Let us go!"

"Are you the reporter?" the leader asked in French, "The UN reporter guy?"

"No," the Brit said, "I'm an annoyed Englishman who was treated very shabbily by your so called tourist bureau. Then, he tells me I can't bring home my pictures..."

"He doesn't care, you idiot!" Mason hissed, "Sit down before he shoots you."

"Astute," the leader said, "You should have listened to that yourself."

The leader took his pistol and aimed it at the stomach of the young British tourist. Two quick trigger pulls sent bullets flying through the tourist. Mason, being right behind him managed to take the run through shots before they could get to the cabin.

"Any last words, American?" the leader asked him, "Damned do gooder!"

"Fuck you," Mason said, almost smiling as the leader gave him what he wanted. Two more quick shots fired into his upper torso and another hit his jaw knocking Mason out completely, which let him slump realistically on the floor. His thick jacket and clothing obscured the near instant healing process that began as he was dragged down into the lower sections of the airplane.

Chapter 2 – Take Down

Mason Stone waited until the terrorist left him alone in the baggage area before he sat up and took note of his surroundings. He probed the wounds and grumbled as he felt the bullets still lodged in his back. The only good thing about being immortal was that he didn't have to worry about the results of being shot.

He then pulled off the shirt he was wearing that was covered with blood and tossed it into a corner. He went through the aisles looking for the bag that he checked into the baggage area, finally finding it half-smashed into a corner with a few other bags. Mason growled as he pulled it out.

"Gotta love African airliners," Mason mumbled to himself as he pulled the bag out, "They don't search baggage worth a damn."

He pulled out his old black skinsuit. He usually discarded these after a while, but liked to keep one around in case he found out about something that's best investigated by a black clad man who could come out of the shadows and scare the hell out of someone. It was a technique that had worked for him numerous times over the years since he became immortal.

"Old Mack Bolan would be proud," Mason mumbled as he put it on and discarded his bloody pants as well.

He reflected that he was now using tactics he learned not from a military manual but from a series of adventure novels he'd read when he was in his thirties. Since this was a situation that could only have been envisioned by an adventure writer, Mason felt pretty confident that it had at least a decent chance of working.

He knew that there were four flunkies and a leader in the upper level, but he didn't know enough about their plans. He knew that even the lousy security in the airport in Zimbabwe would have found and confiscated the weapons in the packages. That meant they had to have some inside help or the guards were bought off.

Mason thought about this logically. This was an old fashioned hijacking in a new world. He thought that the flunkies weren't educated enough to realize in how much danger they were in, but the boss was. He oozed sophistication and planning. But, what were they planning...

Mason walked around the lower sections a bit to see if any of the terrorists were down there. None of them were. The leader had obviously thought that both he and the Englishman were dead, so there was no need to guard corpses. Mason was glad for their logic in that regard.

He went to the front of the plane's storage area and found something rather odd in the cargo area. He then knew what was odd about this hijacking. He found the weapons cache but also found several parachutes and an electronic programming device that he recognized but had no way to use.

"Jim needs to look at this," Mason said quietly, "But in the meantime..."

Mason took a look through the weapons. It looked like the weapons were smuggled on through a food bin, the remains of which were still sitting to the side of the weapon cache. This meant there was at least one sleeper among the crew, seeing that none of the terrorists would have been able to get down to the lower level unnoticed.

"This stuff is crap," Mason grumbled as he continued looking, "I wouldn't use this to hold up a blind street vendor."

He finally chose one of the weapons, a South African Vektor SP1 9mm with enough stopping power to stop a terrorist but small enough that it wasn't as likely to go through the terrorist and kill another passenger or depressurize the plane. It took him a few minutes to clean it up to the point he was willing to risk firing it.

"Better than nothing," Mason said, "Now if we can quiet it..."

There were no silencers in the box, but Mason managed to craft a simple one out of steel wool and a soda bottle. It would only be good for one, maybe two shots, but it beat blasting loudly on the first shot. Once Mason was satisfied with his work, he put everything back where it was when he started (aside from the pieces he took) and made his way slowly to the cockpit area.

Mason listened carefully and then opened up the access panel to the cockpit when he heard the leader disappear. The pilot looked down and was surprised but smart enough to not say anything loud enough for the leader to hear it. Mason hoped that they spoke a language he understood, as he still couldn't speak enough French to order a croissant.

"Sprechen Sie meine Sprache?" Mason asked, using German as he knew it well and it was more likely they spoke German than Russian, his other major European language.

"Ja," the man said slowly.

"How many?" Mason asked in German, "And where are they?"

"Close," the pilot said, "Two in first-class. Others in back."

Mason growled. He didn't want to take on two at once. He nodded at the pilot and headed back down to the galley. He picked up a butcher knife and weighed it in his hand. It was solid enough to throw, but he hadn't thrown a knife in years.

He went back up and looked at the pilot who was trembling visibly. He knew from the look that someone was in the cabin with him. Mason used the shiny knife as a mirror and saw the shoddy footwear of one of the young men. This was an opportunity that Mason couldn't afford to pass up. He tapped the pilot on the right foot. The pilot moved his leg, and Mason threw the knife at the young fool's throat, scoring a perfect shot.

"Push him this way," Mason grunted in German, "Down the hatch!"

The pilot and copilot quickly helped Mason dispose of the body. Mason pulled the knife out and left the body to bleed out below the cockpit. He crouched low between the pilot and navigator's seats so he could talk to them all without being seen easily.

"There are four more that I know about," Mason asked, continuing in German, "Has the leader given you any true indication of his intentions?"

"Nein," the pilot said, "Where did you come from?"

"I was in the bathroom," Mason lied, "Slipped down below. I'm special forces, wrong place at the wrong time."

"What are you going to do next?" the copilot asked.

"Take out the rest," Mason said, "Look out. They expect you so it won't look out of the ordinary. How many are out there?"

"Two," the copilot said, "Not the leader."

"Good," Mason said, "Let's hope my silencer works. Are either of them facing the cockpit?"

"Nein," the pilot said, "Go!"

Mason didn't need a second hint. He slipped out and used his knife to slit the throat of the one closest to him. The other one heard the commotion and turned around only to receive a quick bullet to the skull, the makeshift silencer working beautifully to make the shot no more than a whisper.

Mason let the body he still had hold of drop to the floor. He knew he had at least two people left, the leader included. He just hoped he could take them both before they managed to do something to destroy the plane. He rechecked his weapon and got ready for the passenger area.

He looked through the curtain and made eye contact with Jim Entragian. Entragian knew that Mason was ready to make a move and poked Karen who was better at following Mason's instructions than he was. Karen nodded when she saw Mason and threw a book at the leader's head.

Mason took the opportunity to go in and shoot the last of the uneducated men. The leader took the book in the head and whiled around to shoot Karen, but got a bullet in his back for the trouble. Jim got up and disarmed the two bodies and looked up at Mason for instructions.

"Are there any more?" Mason asked in German.

"Nein," Karen said, "What now?"

"Get the bodies out of here," Mason said in German, keeping up appearances, "Get the wait staff working and give out as much alcohol as these people can drink. Repeat it for Jim. As far as anyone knows, I'm German. Keep it that way."

"Ja," Karen said and told Jim what Mason had said.

Mason walked to the cockpit and looked at the pilots. The pilot let out a sigh of relief as they saw Mason walking back in under his own power. Mason wasn't sure what to do next, but knew that he had to think of something to cover up the fact that they are one corpse short.

"We've regained control," Mason told them in German, "The terrorists are dead."

"Danke," the pilot said, "What is next?"

"I'm going to clear the plane," Mason said, "Inform Paris the terrorists are dead, but that we're checking the plane for explosives and stragglers."

"Ja," the pilot said, "I will change course after I check basic safety systems."

Jim and Karen were in first-class waiting for him to come back out. He let himself calm down a bit and sat down in one of the first-class seats. Jim stood across the aisle, and Karen sat beside him.

"Are you ok?" Karen asked him, switching to quiet English so Jim could understand him.

"Yeah," Mason said, "That Brit is dead though. This is not good. We need to get out of here."

"This still doesn't make sense," Jim said, "That leader was no more a revolutionary than I am."

"I agree," Mason said, "But at this point we're better off getting off this damned plane."

"If the pilots are alive I agree," Karen said, "But we need to land."

"There's a parachute with the guns," Mason said, "Along with a strange card reader."

This caused Jim to sit bolt upright and look at his two longtime partners. He remembered a trick that he'd heard about on one of the internet chat rooms that he frequented when he was in areas he could get internet access.

"Card reader?" Jim asked him, "Show me."

Mason knew Jim wouldn't be going overboard on something like this, so he immediately led the two of them to the weapons cache. Jim, as usual, completely ignored the weapons and went for the electronic card reader. He played with the unit for a bit and went pale once he figured out what he wanted to know.

"This is not good," Jim said, "I heard talk about this; this is the first time I've ever heard of it being done."

"What is it?" Mason asked him, "It looks like a standard card reader."

"It's a card altering device," Jim told him, "This is a Boeing 797-B. It has the most advanced autopilot system of all time, able to take a plane in on autopilot right down to the full landing if necessary."

"What's the connection?" Mason asked him.

"This thing runs on smart cards," Jim said, "All the routes. The cards are specific to airplanes to prevent using the system to hijack the planes to places they weren't intended to go, but it's a standard smart card. We were all wondering if these systems would be able to be changed using a standard smart card controller."

"I guess we have the answer," Mason said, "I take it that's why you went pale?"

"Yep," Jim said, "But it would have to be installed in the cockpit. That's where the main reader is."

"The pilots would have fought it," Mason said, "That couldn't be done without them knowing?"

"One of them could do it," Jim said, "Someone would have to load the card."

"What is this card set to do?" Mason asked him, "Can you tell?"

"I need a simulator," Jim said, "Find me a laptop, I can decode it. I can tell you a card was made in it, but not what it does."

"Found one," Karen said, "I don't think the owner will mind given the circumstances."

"Get to it," Mason told him, "I'll go make sure that the dead guys didn't put that new card in..."

Mason was stopped quickly with a butcher knife that was thrown expertly into his neck, slicking through his vocal chords. Karen turned around and saw the wounded terrorist leader charging and letting off a solid kick to her knee as he passed and bound up the stairs.

Chapter 3 – Free Fall

Jim Entragian didn't even try to stop the guy, but put down the laptop and pulled the knife out of Mason's throat. It took only a few seconds for Mason to get back to normal and be able to stand upright properly again.

Mason didn't stop to thank Jim, he knew he had to stop that German man. He climbed up the stairs, following him and hoping that he was in time. The German man made it to the cockpit door when Mason tackled him and pulled the man back down.

"Not this time!" Mason seethed, "No way!"

The leader was strong, however, and obviously kept himself in decent shape. He managed to kick Mason's fingers off him and get into a better fighting stance. He and Mason squared off. Then; Mason had his first chance to look in the German man's eyes.

"Why?" Mason asked him in his own language, "What did these people do to you?"

"It's a job," the German said, shrugging, "Now time to finish it!"

The German let off a few well-aimed blows at Mason, but despite his good conditioning he was no match for Mason's immortal youth and his experience. The German was frustrated with Mason's resilience and went for a kill blow again.

"Don't you get it?" Mason seethed as the German broke his sternum again, "You can't kill me!"

"The test subject," the German said, his eyes going wide, "It can't be!"

"What did you call me?" Mason grabbed him and asked in surprise.

The German pushed Mason away and Dashed to the cockpit, shoving the door closed. Mason ran over to the door and slammed into it a few times, splintering it as the German finished shoving the smart card into the reader and firing a shot into the main control panel.

"Say goodbye to the Eiffel Tower," the German said before he shot the pilot and jumped down the same hatch Mason had come up originally.

Mason went down and found Jim and Karen fighting with the German. Mason restrained the German and tied him up with a spare cord. Karen looked at Mason and wondered why he didn't kill the German.

"Jim," Mason said, "he loaded a card and shot the pilot. Go see if you can counter it."

"On it," Jim nodded and headed to the top level.

"How did he survive?" Karen asked Mason, "I saw your shot hit him and blood flow."

"Good question," Mason nodded, "He also referred to me as test subject."

"The only one who did that was Bolantine," Karen said, a bit shocked by that, "He doesn't look anything like Bolantine."

"No he doesn't," Mason said, pulling out a knife and cutting the German's shirt, "Let's see what he's capable of."

Mason pulled the clothing aside and saw some scarring. He obviously was not normal, but he still had injuries from the bullet. It was a chest hit, but not as good of one as Mason had originally thought. Mason sliced his flesh to make sure he couldn't heal like his team could. It wasn't as pronounced as theirs was, but the German wasn't a standard human any more than they were.

"Who made you?" Mason asked him when he saw him heal, "Who did this to you?"

"Haben Sie Geschlecht mit Ihrer Mutter," he said.

"Not possible," Mason told him, "Someone has modified this man, but that's not the biggest problem."

"The plane is," Karen nodded, "I'll watch him. Go help Jim."

Mason walked up to the cabin and found Jim there trying to get it to work again. He looked up at Mason with an expression that showed that the news was not particularly good.

"The main control panel is gone," Jim said, "Nothing short of a full rewiring job will get this bloody plane on the ground manually."

"What did the card do?" Mason asked him.

"It's going to fly us directly into either a French missile or into the Eiffel Tower," Jim told him, "Whoever set up the card was good. It won't take outside instructions."

"No way to land manually?" Mason asked, "At all?"

"Short of depressurizing and reinitializing the unit," Jim said, "No."

"Can the depressurization happen anywhere?" Mason asked him.

"I'm not even sure it will work," Jim said, "We have thirty minutes to decide. We'll be in the Parisian corridor by then and if no one answers their calls they will shoot us down when we veer off course."

"Can you recode the card?" Mason wondered, "And can this thing land itself?"

"It can," Jim nodded, "But the unit needs to be reinitialized."

"What happens if a pilot is down?" Mason asked him.

"All crew is trained to put in the emergency landing cart in," Jim said, "I see where you're going... Simulate an emergency."

"Exactly," Mason nodded, "Depressurize this plane and put in your recoded landing card."

"Warn the passengers," Jim said, "Keep them all in coach and buckled up. They'll have the best chance of survival back there."

"Once you get that set come down," Mason told him, "The three of us are parachuting out. No need to get involved with this. You won't be able to fix it after you set it anyway."

The next twenty minutes were interesting. Jim Entragian did the fastest programming job he had ever done in his life, something that was made easier by finding a Paris landing card in the late pilot's pocket that had not been tampered with.

"The passengers are set," Mason said, "You have six minutes."

"I need two," Jim told him, "Then I need your gun."

"Here," Mason said, giving Jim the German's gun, "I'm going down to prepare Karen for the jump."

"What about the German?" Jim asked him.

"Let him crash," Mason scowled, "Either that or I'll throw his ass out without a parachute. I haven't decided yet."

Jim nodded and went back to work while Mason walked down to the lower area. What he found was not what he expected. Instead of Karen waiting for instructions he found the German putting on a parachute and preparing to open the outer hatch. Karen was impaled on a hook next to the hatch.

"We're at thirty-five thousand feet," Mason told him in his language, "You open that hatch and you will suffocate before you can get to the ground."

"So be it," the German said, opening the hatch with a kick, rapidly depressurizing the cargo hold."

"Shit!" Mason yelled and pulled Karen off the hook roughly.

"Mason!" Jim yelled as he jumped down, "What did..."

"Follow him!" Mason yelled, "Get the loose parachutes! I'll get his!"

Jim didn't have to be told twice. He had faith in his programming, but did not have any desire to be there when the plane landed and the feds went storming aboard. He went quickly, jumping out the hatch and locating the falling parachute.

Karen was sore, but she did the same. Mason was the last to go because he wanted the largest field of vision. Mason saw the German, who had gone into hypoxia early, flipping around aimlessly. Mason knew that he could last longer, so he directed himself on a collision course with the German man.

Karen, due mainly to her more aerodynamic form and better mastery of skydiving techniques, made it to her parachute before Entragian did. It was a struggle for her, but she managed to get it on and do a bit of slowing down so she could watch better where Mason was heading before she pulled the rip cord.

Jim Entragian had more trouble with it, and he flew past Karen as he headed towards the nearest free parachute. He didn't like skydiving much and his stomach felt as though it was still back on the plane with all their luggage. He finally reached the parachute and fought with it as Mason caught up to the German man.

It took a few attempts, but Mason managed to catch up to the German and caught his boot. The oxygen situation was getting better, but the German was still not in good enough shape to control his own fall. Mason literally climbed up the German man's leg as they both fell towards the ground at terminal velocity.

Mason was halfway up the German's torso when he woke up and tried to fight back. Mason punched the German man in the stomach to start him gasping for air again and managed to unbuckle the first of the straps of the parachute.

The German knew he was in trouble and tried to fight Mason off, but Mason's immortality made him better able to ignore the effects of hypoxia, so Mason managed to pull the parachute off the now panicked man. Once Mason had it free he flipped around and let off a solid kick to the German's testicles, which sent him curling up and sent him flying off track as it changed his aerodynamics.

"Have a happy landing!" Mason yelled as he managed to put on the parachute and pull the cord.

Karen and Jim followed, pulling their cords so they wouldn't crash to the ground like the German was about to do. Though they were considerably lower than they were when they left the plane, they still had a good way to go before they landed softly.

Mason kept an eye on the swiftly falling German and then managed to pick out the damaged airliner making its descent towards DeGaulle airport. Mason just hoped it landed well because he wouldn't be able to do anything else.

Mason, Karen and Jim came to a soft landing in the same field that the German had hit hard several minutes before. Mason kicked off the parachute and walked over to the hole created by the German Man's impact in the wet ground.

"That had to hurt," Mason said, looking in, "I hope it did."

Jim was about to say something pithy when the remains of the German's body blew up, sending them backwards onto their rears. Jim growled and wiped off the dirt and blood from his face. Karen did the same and looked at the hole in the ground.

"That was not good," Karen said, sighing, "What the hell happened?"

"He exploded," Jim said, "I've never seen a body do that before."

"That's the least of our problems now," Mason said, "We have to figure out how to get out of here before the French cops figure out what happened."

"So where the hell are we?" Karen asked him, "Do you know?"

"France somewhere," Mason said, "Any hints, Jim?"

"South of Paris," Jim said, "No hint other than that. I think we will be hiking a bit. We don't want to get near any police resources either way. Anyone for stealing a car and heading for Germany so we can get to our cache of stuff?"

"I'm all for leaving France," Karen nodded, "So long as we do it on the ground."

"No more flying for a bit," Mason promised, "Not until we leave Europe, at the very least..."

Chapter 4 – Welcome Home

Mason Stone walked into the hotel in downtown Berlin and put the key card on the desk that he had retrieved from a dead drop a few minutes before. He kept a suite paid for in this hotel, one that he kept clean from any of their adventures. He knew that after the African incident and the plane incident it was time to find a new place to stay, but it felt good to be back somewhere familiar.

"Herr Stein," the clerk said in German, "Welcome back."

"It's been a while," Mason nodded, "I take it my account is still current."

"Ja," the clerk said, "We were wondering if you were going to return."

"I'm like a bad penny," Mason nodded, "Any messages for me?"

"In two years?" the clerk smiled and pulled a small box, "Only a few, Herr Stein. I have clients who generate more than this in a week."

"I try to keep a low profile," Mason smiled, "Do you have a suite open for me?"

"Of course," the clerk nodded, "One of our best, Herr Stein."

"Thank you," Mason said, "I'll take it. Bill it to my usual account."

Mason took his key card and headed to the elevator. As was usual Mason hit the buttons for his floor and the third floor. When the elevator stopped at the third floor Karen and Jim stepped onto the elevator with him. They made it look as though they weren't together until they were out of sight of the cameras in the elevator.

"You know," Karen said when they entered the room, "I'm sick of living like a criminal."

"Me too," Mason agreed, "It's time to settle down for a bit, but not here."

"That your messages?" Jim asked, "Busy much?"

"Most of them will be status checks," Mason said, "I've had the account status for this place sent here."

"Anything else in there?" Karen wondered.

"Let's find out," Mason said, dumping the pile on the table, "Let's go through them and see if there's anything important."

"Here are four messages from that man in Russia," Jim said, putting them aside, "I told him there wasn't much we could do last time."

"I'm collapsing this place when we take off," Mason said, "Will funds help his group?"

"Probably," Jim nodded, "I'll make the transfers before we get out."

"Whoa," Karen said, "That's someone I never thought we'd hear from again."

"Who?" Mason and Jim asked her.

"Here's the message," Karen said and started reading, "The mine has been breached. The name on it is Healy."

"Oh shit. That has to be Chris Gabriel," Mason said, "There is only one mine that he could be talking about."

"Marden Mine," Jim said, "Bolantine."

"Test subject," Mason growled, "That German son of a bitch was one of Bolantine's people."

"Think he's operating out of Germany?" Karen wondered, "He probably could get away with it in the Eastern zone."

"Not anymore," Jim said, "Not easily at any rate."

"We need to find out whether it's Bolantine or not," Mason said, "It's time to head back to the states. We've been gone too long."

"It will be a good excuse to go and renew our stuff there," Jim said, "Not to mention I wouldn't mind doing a girl who can understand what I say for once."

"We can take a stop in Nevada," Karen said, "You can actually do it legally."

"What's the fun in that?" Jim chuckled.

"Break down the accounts here," Mason instructed him, "Send one or two of them to Russia and the rest to the Caymans. I'm going to put together a new package of identities for the trip. We've been gone a while, so we need to check the new laws."

"I'll do a quick check on that," Karen said, "As well as try to get anything on that German dude that you took the parachute from."

"Whatever works," Mason nodded, "We'll spend the rest of the week here to recover from the mess on the plane, then head back to the states."

"Once I finish my work..." Jim asked hopefully.

"Feel free," Mason chuckled, "I'm sure Karen and I can find some ways to pass the time."

Karen smiled at that and started with her inquiries.

Chapter 5 – The Reanimated

"This is your final test," Bolantine told the two men in the van with him, "Are you ready to prove your worth to the master?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Good," Bolantine told them, "Go in and take no prisoners. You are to keep going until the police bring you down. We will recover you later on."

The two men nodded. They were white, almost to the point of looking like corpses. They were dressed in identical jumpsuits, gray in color, with no identification at all. They showed no concern for their own safety or any problem with Bolantine's instructions.

"Take the cases," Bolantine said, "And have fun."

The two men didn't smile. They took their cases and left the van. Bolantine drove away and parked the van in a parking garage, leaving it there to be found by police later. He had no intention of ever going near it again.

The two nameless men walked in perfect sync down the quiet London street. They caught a few looks, but ignored everything other than their own destination. The metal cases they carried were heavy, but they showed no problems bearing the weight.

The quiet street was very close to Old Bailey, which was the primary criminal court building in London. They walked up the hill to the courthouse and walked up to the front doors. They took a look at each other, nodded and walked inside.

The guards took notice of them quickly, but the men were faster. The pulled open their cases and removed the automatic weapons, two compact Sterling SK7's in each box. The guards tried to draw their weapons, but the two men were faster and fired two shots each to kill the nearest guards.

They then walked through the fearful crowd, shooting only armed police officers. There was no sign of indecision as they knew exactly where they were going. They headed straight to a single courtroom, shooting several uniformed officers on the way through.

Two officers managed to score shots against the two assailants, but neither man even noticed, going so far as to take a shot to the leg without even flinching from the pain. One of the men covered the back as the other kicked open the door to the courtroom.

The judge stood up and caught a quick bullet to the eye. No one was safe in the courtroom. The two men reloaded their weapons and systematically murdered half of the people in the room, making sure to get the judge, the defendant, and all the barristers.

"All dead," one of the men said, "Take weapons, hunt for more judges."

The other one nodded and started harvesting weapons. The police, though injured, had no intention of letting these killers have their way anymore than they already have. The rampage was less than five minutes old, but it had already become one of the most heinous terrorist incidents ever to occur in the United Kingdom.

The two men broke into another courtroom, but this time was completely unable to get to the judges. The news from the other courtroom had spread. The building was rapidly emptying out its usual group of people.

"Get them!" one of the officers yelled, "Aim for their heads!"

Thirty police officers massed outside the courtroom. They dodged the men's bullets and landed shot after shot. No one could believe that any human body could take the punishment these two men were.

Finally, one of the better shots among the police managed to get a solid shot to the forehead. Even men as tough as these went down with most of their brain blown away. The other one went down a few seconds later. It was hard for the police to accept, and several bullets were fired into the corpse before the highest ranking surviving officer in the building stopped them.

"They killed eighty people!" one officer yelled.

"Who are they?" another one yelled.

"This can't be," the high ranking officer said, looking at the bodies, "It just isn't possible."

"What?" another one asked, "They were likely on a good bit of drugs."

"No," the high ranking officer said, "I know them. They are the McCarty brothers, a dangerously insane set of men. But that's not the worst part."

"I'd say so," the officer said, "The worst part is that they are stone cold killers."

"They always were," the high ranking officer said, "But this should not be possible."

"Didn't we already catch them?" the officer asked, "They should be in prison."

"They're supposed to be dead," the highest ranking officer said, "I shot Mal McCarty myself, well over a year ago, his brother went down in the same fight. They were about to be posted when their bodies were stolen from the morgue. How the hell are two men killed over a year ago shooting up Old Bailey?"

No one had an answer for him. The two bodies were still twitching, unlike the men and women they had cut down. Several photographs were taken as he looked closely at the bodies.

"You can still see the scars," he said, "It's insane."

The bodies twitched faster as the police around them snapped photos of the scene. Someone was about to take another photo when the bodies exploded, sending bone fragments and blood splattering around the already bloody room.

"What the hell?" the bloodied cop said, "How did..."

Again, no one had an answer for him.

Chapter 6 – The Old Red White and Blue...

Mason Stone sat back in his seat, trying to relax as the plane glided over Newfoundland towards its final destination in Boston. The memories of the Ethiopian Airlines flight were still fresh in his mind, despite the far superior security they had in the Berlin airport. Mason shuddered as he knew he would be having nightmares for years to come.

"You ok?" Karen asked him.

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "It feels weird, coming back to the states."

"No kidding," Karen chuckled, "It's nice too. Even after all this time it's still our home."

"I do miss being able to speak naturally," Mason agreed, "I can speak German and Russian like a native now, but it's still not like speaking your natural language."

"I miss the food," Karen said, "We need to stop in Philly. I'm craving a cheese steak."

"I'll settle for some good old fashioned popcorn," Mason said, "No one in Europe or Africa can make the shit right. A crappy American movie could be good too."

"No more Chuck Norris," Karen said, "Please?"

"I don't think he makes movies anymore," Mason laughed, "Too old now."

"True," Karen sighed, "Does it hit you that we should be as old as he is?"

"I am as old as he is," Mason sighed, "Born the same year. I should be long retired and collecting social security. You should be years in the grave from cancer. Jim should be committing malpractice in his old lab. The world would have been a lot different had that slop not changed us."

"I can't say being dead would be much better at this point," Karen said as she leaned against him, "Can you?"

"I'll take what we have," Mason nodded.

Unlike the last flight they were on this one landed smoothly in Boston only slightly behind schedule. Mason, Karen and Jim were attuned enough to the realities of travel that they had everything in line and passed through customs without any problems at all.

"You know," Jim said as they walked out of the airport, "This went a lot better than last time."

Mason nodded agreement as he was glad that he didn't have to jump out of another airplane. He went over and rented a car from the local stand, driving them out of the airport and into downtown Boston. There was little conversation while Jim swept the vehicle for listening devices.

"Clear," Jim said, "You really are paranoid, you know that?"

"As much as the Military would love to have us?" Mason replied curtly, "Yes I am. We need to make contact, and I want to do it safely."

"Who to?" Karen asked, "The message was likely sent by Chris Gabriel."

"That's our first step," Mason nodded, "After we get the van running again."

"That thing has been locked up for years now," Jim laughed, "It's probably going to take an act of God to get it running."

"A new battery and an oil infusion," Mason said, "I had it stored properly. Let's make a stop at an auto parts store. We should be able to get this thing running in an hour or so."

They stopped at a small strip mall to pick up parts. Karen went and got them food from a little diner at one end while Mason picked up the parts he needed to get the old conversion van running again. Once everything was together they drove the rental car down to a rundown storage facility, one that looked as though it hadn't seen any activity in years.

"Looks like the place shut down," Karen said, "The office is empty."

"Great," Jim said, "Think it's still here?"

"It's an IRS shutdown," Mason said, pointing to a sign on the door, "Let's see if we can get in and get out with our stuff. Even if the IRS took the facility the stuff in our garage is still ours."

"I'll keep watch," Karen sighed, "Unless you need me to do something else."

"We need modern computer equipment," Mason said, "You and Jim go shopping. Get some equipment. I'll go in and get the van running. That way if I get arrested you can get me out."

"Right," Karen nodded, "We'll be back in a couple hours."

"If I'm not here I'll park in front of that super store just down the road," Mason told her, "I'll see you in a bit."

Mason then climbed the fence and had them pass the battery over the wall. He took it and walked to one of the large stalls at the end. It was still locked with the same combination master lock he had put on it when he had last been there.

"At least no one has touched it," Mason said, "Let's see if my baby is still there..."

He clicked through the combination, and it went in easily, despite the age and weathering of the lock. It took a good pull to open it all the way but once he did he could free up the door and pull it wide open. It nearly fell on his head once, but he finally got it to stay put and revealed the old white van in all its glory.

"I missed this," Mason said as he looked at it, "You may be dirty, but you're the last link to my old life."

The van, of course, said nothing but it had definitely seen better days. The results of more than a dozen years traveling around the United States had left it worn and a window cracked. The tires were also flat; all the air having leaked out over the years they'd been out of the country. Luckily Mason had put the van on blocks so the flat tires were hanging out.

Mason had planned his return carefully. The first thing he did was go over to a box he had placed by the front and open up the first of six-quart bottles of oil. One by one each bottle went into the engine, the first sign of life on an old engine. He then left the engine alone to soak in its oil and see how many seals he would have to replace.

He then went to work on the tires. He had four new tires sealed in protective plastic ready to go. He broke through the plastic and put the new tires on the van, using a portable pump to get them enough air to last until he could get to somewhere with power.

"Nice," Mason said once the tires were back to normal, "Now for power..."

He spent enough years in that van to know where all the pieces fit. He had removed all the batteries when he stored the van before, so when he put in the new one it fit well, but it was two less than the van was used to. He flipped a few switches to make sure that the one battery went only to the engine so the van could start.

"Let's see if this thing can start," Mason said, going into the van and turning the key, "here's to proper planning..."

Mason turned the key, and nothing happened. Mason shook his head and went over to the other wall where he had put a five gallon can of gasoline, which he emptied into the dry tank. Once he did that he flipped on the circuit breaker in the van and turned the key to start it up.

"All right," Mason said, "Now to get you out of here..."

Mason drove the van out and promptly moved all the equipment he'd used into the storage area under the master bed in the back. He closed and locked the door and then walked over to the inside of the gate. The lock on the gate was new, but poorly affixed. He let off a kick and it gave, swinging out into the street.

"About time something came easy," Mason chuckled, "Time to get out of here..."

Mason drove the van to the parking lot and pulled the van to a stop in a far end space. Karen and Jim pulled up in the rental car soon after and took a look at the van.

"I can't believe it still runs," Jim said, "What now?"

"Plates," Mason said, "We also need to get a proper lube job done on this thing. There's a shop down the street that can do that. While that's being done I'll make contact with Chris Gabriel."

"I thought that would be coming," Karen said, handing Mason a cell phone, "Bought two of them at the store with the laptop. Disposable."

"Perfect," Mason said, "Things are looking up, I guess."

"Welcome back to the old red white and blue," Jim said, looking up at a flag nearby, "Let's just hope the problem isn't as bad as it could be."

"I'll find out after I make a call," Mason said, "Let's go get some stuff done."

Chapter 7 – Boland Creek

Chris Gabriel sat down on the bench he kept in the back yard and looked over at the impromptu cheerleader practice his daughter was performing with several of her friends. It still amazed him the outfits he let his daughter wear. In a more restrained time he would have smacked her across the room just for coming downstairs with something like that. Before long his wife, Carrie, sat down next to him.

"Watching the kids?" Carrie asked him, "My father would have belted me for wearing that, you know?"

"Modern world," Chris said, shaking his head, "Could be worse, you know?"

"That's true," Carrie said, "I'll take a bit of bad dressing over what you and I dealt with when we were kids."

"True," Chris nodded, "Serial Killing is definitely a lot worse than showing a bit of skin."

Chris Gabriel's brother cut a swath through town in a spree killing many years before, a rampage that ended with Chris being the only living member of his family. The memories were still firmly embedded in both Chris and Carrie's minds, as they were both there when it ended.

"So what are you working on?" Carrie asked him, "You generally don't watch their practices unless you've got writer's block."

"I made the mistake of trying to write a book too fast," Chris said, "I have to rethink out my idiotic plot. I swear, this one gets much worse and I'll end up having to fight off the piranhas from Hollywood. It's bad enough that it could be a summer blockbuster."

"Oh?" Carrie laughed, "The Rock or Jason Statham?"

"Let's go old school," Chris laughed, "How about Sylvester or Arnie?"

"An old hero huh?" Carrie laughed, "Nice."

Chris smiled and then looked over at his cell. He had been waiting for it to ring for weeks and couldn't help looking at it often. Carrie had seen the look before and wondered what was going on out of the ordinary. She knew it wasn't another woman as he barely had time to sleep as it was.

"Another case coming up?" Carrie asked him, "That's the only time you look like that at your phone."

"Yes and no," Chris said, "Something came up during my research and I'm passing on the info. I'm mainly a message relay. I'm expecting it to ring at any point."

"Why do you get involved with this stuff?" Carrie asked him.

"It has something to do with a case I was involved in years ago," Chris said, "Back when I was sheriff. One I'd hoped was closed."

'It's not?" Carrie asked, "What happened?"

"The dead shall rise," Chris mumbled and then looked back at his wife, "Some secrets don't know how to stay dead."

Carrie nodded and realized that was all she would get from her husband. Chris dreaded Carrie ever finding out just how close and how bad the mess had been when the Entragian research clinic had been destroyed in a fire years before.

"You do what you need to," Carrie suggested, "Especially if you don't have to leave with it."

"Not this time," Chris promised, "Not much I can really add to this. All I have to do is talk to someone."

Carrie smiled as the phone rang. She hoped this was the call he was looking for and things would go back to normal again. She hated it when her husband got his mind stuck on things.

"Chris Gabriel," he said into the phone as he turned it on and covered the mic, "I'll be back in a bit, Carrie,"

Carrie nodded and left him alone to talk.

"Chris," Mason Stone's voice came over the phone, "This is Stone. My end is clear. Yours?"

"Should be," Chris said, "If it isn't, you are sunk."

"Did you leave the message for us?" Mason asked him.

"What message?" Chris asked him, "Who are you?"

"Good man," Mason said, "We buried something together."

"In Philadelphia," Chris said, "Remember her name?"

"Elise Steele," Mason said, "Do you remember her real name?"

"Elizabeth Baltimore," Chris said, "I'd say that covers it. No one but Mike Miller and us knew this. Where are you?"

"Watching your daughter practice on your front lawn," Mason told him, "Come on and take a ride so we can talk without these infernal devices."

Chris chuckled and hobbled out to the van. Mason opened the door and Chris sat down in one of the comfortable jumper seats as Jim pulled the van away from the location. Karen did a quick sweep on Chris Gabriel and made sure he wasn't carrying any electronic transmitters.

"I left my cell at home," Chris told them, "You guys are paranoid."

"I always am when I get messages like that," Mason said, "Do you blame us?"

"Hell no," Chris laughed, "I am legal and I'm not much better. The more paranoid you are means the less likely Entragian's folly can come back to haunt me. I was hoping to go the rest of my life without ever seeing you again. No offense."

"I get that a lot," Mason said dryly, "I take messages like that seriously. What happened to the mine?"

"I read about Marden Mine years ago," Chris nodded, "The timing was too pat, I figured that was where you buried Bolantine."

"It is," Mason said, "He and Nikki killed the civilians at Marden Mine. We dropped the mine on top of Bolantine and his bitch afterwards. Elliot's body was in there too."

"That's what I figured," Chris sighed, "I never asked you about what you did out in Seattle. I never truly wanted to know. I knew that Colonel Strader died and that you and Adam Strader took care of it. I read about the massacre and decided I didn't want to know any more."

"Bolantine and his girlfriend got dosed with the serum," Mason told him, "But we managed to catch up with him. Elliot is dead, the serum died with him. We destroyed the last pieces of it with his body when we trapped Bolantine and Nikki in Marden Mine. None of us expected it to ever be opened up again."

"It was," Chris said, "I put two and two together. Some enterprising monkeys decided to go looking for ore. Someone killed all of them, still unsolved officially but I figured that it would be important to you."

"Bolantine is the one who killed the civilians," Mason said unnecessarily, "He'd been trapped for years and probably wasn't entirely sane by then. We had hoped that it would last longer."

"Not your fault," Chris shrugged, "You did the best you could with what you had. It still beat letting the military take him. Let's hope he's smart enough to keep out of the way as it is."

"He's too crazy for that," Karen said, "He and Nikki have world domination on their mind. They won't stop until they manage it or until we drop them down another mine shaft."

"We know he's out there and up to something," Mason said, "I suspected it before, but now we know."

"Are you going to chase after him?" Chris asked him.

"I don't want to," Mason said, "But if I don't, no one will."

"I'm in," Jim said from the front seat, "I created this shit. Least I can do is try to stop it."

"I'm following Mason anyway," Karen shrugged, "Someone has to stop that lunatic. If Mason's right about that crazy German on the Ethiopian Air mess being Bolantine's... That means he's up to something."

"I have contact information for the Seattle detectives who are working on the cold case," Chris said, "I figured you might want to research it, see what you can find."

"That could be dangerous," Jim said, "If we poke our nose in the government could find us."

"Bolantine transcends governments," Mason said, "We could use the intel if nothing else."

"I don't want to know," Chris told them, "I'm too close as it is. Don't give me contact information again. I don't want it. I want to be able to pass a polygraph if the feds start looking for you in earnest."

"No problem," Mason said, "I don't want to put you in harm's way. Once I drop you off we'll be leaving town with no further trace. You've done enough here."

"Have a good life, Mason," Chris said, "Let's hope we don't have to meet again, eh?"

"Yeah," Mason nodded, offering a hand, "Take care of that family, Chris. That's what's important."

Chris Gabriel shook hands with Mason and truly believed that Mason thought that. Jim pulled the van back in front of Chris's house and idled it while Chris walked out. Mason and Karen waved and Chris watched as the van pulled away for what he hoped would be the last time. He'd seen that van three times, and each time it had brought him nothing but grief.

He walked back into his house and sat down at the kitchen table to eat a couple carrots that Carrie had left out there for him. Carrie sat down and looked at him, wondering what had happened and wondered how much she should ask.

"Do I want to know?" Carrie asked.

"An old friend," Chris said, "One I hope to never have to see again."

"Anything to worry about?" Carrie wondered.

"No," Chris said, smiling, "Mason has it under control. I passed him some information. Hopefully, that will be the last I ever have to get involved again."

"Nothing illegal, right?" Carrie asked him, "Not that I'm worried about that with you."

"It's beyond legality," Chris told her, "Mason is the good guy though. I'm not worried about that."

"I'll take your word for it," Carrie grinned, "I really don't want to know."

"That makes two of us," Chris nodded, "Let's order Pizza. You've cooked enough this week."

Chapter 8 – A Long Drive

"Mason," Karen said as she looked at her longtime partner, "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm angry," Mason said simply, "I would like to know what idiot approved digging into Marden Mine."

"Who knows,' Karen said, "No one knew except us and Adam Strader. Strader sure as hell wouldn't have authorized that."

"I know," Mason sighed, "I don't know what to think, really."

Mason stretched out in the mattress and looked up at Karen. He still considered her the best part about immortality. The luck he encountered with her almost made up for the annoyance he felt about his immortality. He pulled her on the mattress and kissed her nose. She smiled and curled up next to him.

"You do much thinking about what it means to be immortal?" Karen asked him finally, "I mean we've never really talked that much about it before. We've joked about it, but with some of the stuff we've been through..."

"There's a good possibility that we aren't going anywhere," Mason agreed, "I still have a hard time wrapping my head about it. We've been shot, stabbed, thrown, crashed, burned... Nothing works."

"At least Superman had the blasted Kryptonite," Karen agreed, "I thought sure Jim was a goner when he went in and dealt with that plutonium leak in Russia eight years ago. Not a damn scratch from when he picked it up barehanded."

"I know it," Mason sighed, "It makes no sense, but it's all we have."

"So what do you think the point is?" Karen asked him, "Sure you've thought about it some. Care to share what you've come up with?"

"I think we're here because we're here," Mason said after thinking for a few moments, "I think we can do some good in the long run and since we're here we might as well do what we can."

"Right," Karen nodded, thinking about it, "Maybe we're just here to keep Bolantine in check."

"There's more to it than that," Mason said, "There has to be."

"How did you go on before?" Karen wondered, "Your life was no bed of roses."

"One day at a time, much like I do now," Mason told her, "I spend a lot of time enjoying the little things. A pretty smile, a good drink, a good song... Those little things mean a whole lot more when you have nothing else."

"I still think back to the way it used to be," Karen said, her gaze falling into thin air, "Tim and I used to have this place out by the lake, we'd spend weekends and vacations out there... My God it was as though we were at peace with the world. This was before the cancer destroyed me... Things were just so perfect then."

"I never had that perfection," Mason said, "I think it was the job that kept me alive. I had a purpose and kept moving. I think if I'd ever taken time like that to myself back then I would seriously have thought about eating my gun. I came close a few times."

"Well you have a bit to live for now," Karen said, "Not that you have a whole hell of a lot of choice now."

"I like my life now," Mason confirmed to her, "I love you dearly and Jim has turned out to be a decent guy to travel with, though I don't think I'd admit that directly to him..."

"Too late," Jim piped up from the front seat, earning a thrown sock in the head.

"Anyway," Mason smiled, "I've got something resembling a family now. I like that. I didn't exactly choose you, but we've got something in common and I actually like you. I never had that with my original family. I hated my wife and didn't even particularly like my own kids."

"I can't imagine that," Karen said, honestly, "My own kids were joys in my life. They were long gone by the time I got sick... but I never stopped loving them."

"I loved my kids," Mason said, "I just didn't like them much as people. Kelly did her best to poison them against me. You remember how they turned out... One got killed by my SWAT unit and the other died in prison after getting caught swindling old people in Florida. Luckily my flawed genes will not be passed on, neither of my offspring had a chance to reproduce and it look safe to say I will not be doing so again."

"You know we should sleep some," Karen sighed, not wanting to get further into that, "Jim won't want to drive forever."

"Sure," Mason smiled, "So long as you're sleeping close."

"We're all we got," Karen agreed, curling up with him, "Let's get some sleep."

"Sure you will..." Jim's comment came, earning him two more socks being thrown at his head.

Mason smiled and went to sleep happily.

Chapter 9 – An Undisclosed Location

Nikki Bolantine sat in the cold control tower as she watched the old propeller airplane come down out of the clouds and head for the runway. She looked a bit different than she had when she left Marden Mine two years before. Her hair had been cut, properly styled and she had taken some time to learn about the world that she had missed during 30 years of coma and over a dozen years of burial.

As the plane descended towards the landing strip she put on the fur lined coat that she constantly wore in the snowy climate that their base was located in. She cursed the snow again as she walked outside in it, despite having lived in this base for over a year the constant snow still irritated her. Living in Seattle most of her life had not prepared her for the year-round snowfall.

The large plane touched down easily, the experienced pilot managing to avoid sliding on the slick concrete runway. Landings that pilots in most of the world would never attempt due to weather were commonplace in this out of the way facility. Air travel, while dangerous, was the only easy way to get to the rest of the world.

There were no government representatives at this base, no customs to go through or any gates for the plane to come up to. Nikki Bolantine jumped into her Gaz Sobol and fired up the cranky engine. The Russian van was nearly a decade old out of one of the post-Soviet car factories, so it had a dodgy history anyway.

"Start you putrid blue piece of junk," Nikki growled as she attempted to start the engine, "I swear I'll wire you up with C4 if you don't..."

It took a minute, but the van finally gave in to Nikki's threats and started up. She took a moment to nurse the engine to a healthy hum before driving out on to the runway. The airplane was taxiing towards the hanger as she followed it at a safe distance.

"Stop the friggen plane," Nikki growled, "I'm sick of this place."

The airplane came to a stop inside the hanger and the back came down. Bolantine jumped out and looked at the van, smiling. He turned around to get the large case that one of the men on the plane handed to him, took it and walked over to the van. Nikki shuddered from the cold blast when the door opened but said nothing.

Bolantine smiled when he saw her then directed her to back the van up to the airplane so the men from the plane could load the rest of his stuff inside. The loading happened quickly as the men put three coffin-sized boxes in the van along with several pieces of luggage. Once they were loaded up Bolantine let himself into the passenger seat and smiled.

"The test was a qualified success," Bolantine grinned, "How are you, my dear?"

"Cold," Nikki said curtly, "I still hate this place."

"Yes," Bolantine agreed, "But you must admit they are good."

"I know," Nikki said, sighing as she turned on the heat to full blast, "Qualified success?"

"They performed properly," Bolantine said, "For men who died a year ago they did a damn good job at shooting up Old Bailey. I got paid a lot of money for making that happen for them."

"I take it they didn't survive a second time?" Nikki asked hopefully.

"They exploded in the courtroom after being brought down," Bolantine said, "We still need to kick the explosive problem. Reanimation works as long as the brain is whole, but they still explode after seven or eight days. Sooner if the brain is destroyed."

"Good for our clients," Nikki growled, "Not for us."

"With every loss we learn," Bolantine said philosophically, "Has our Russian friend figured out anything on the explosive angle yet?"

"No," Nikki said, "He's not being cooperative either. It's too bad he's so talented. I would so love to hone my dissection skills on his cadaver..."

"Not now, hon," Bolantine told her, "We've got other things we need to do first."

"I hope talking to him is one," Nikki said, "I'll be honest B. I don't understand a thing from this research. They could be doing anything, and I wouldn't know."

"We just have to keep an eye on them," Bolantine shrugged, "They won't buck us too much. They want the chance to have what we already do, and we are keeping them better financed than their late and unlamented Russian masters."

"That's the other thing we need to deal with," Nikki told him, "We've got issues with that again. The Russian Federation wants to know what happened to their last investigator. We've kept the reports flowing, though they've been edited. We will have to do something about that eventually."

"Ok," Bolantine said, "One problem at a time. Let's go make deliveries and we'll deal with the Russians later. How would you like to create some heat in this cold Russian hell?"

"Works for me," Nikki said, smiling for the first time in a while, "Just make sure that we don't have this place come collapsing down on our heads."

"Never," Bolantine grinned and kissed her, "I don't know where the test subject is now, but even the German couldn't have passed them enough information to get them here."

"How the hell did he manage to find out?" Nikki asked him, "Did you confirm they were there?"

"They had to be," Bolantine said, "The descriptions were too pat. My guess is that it was happenstance. There's no way they could have known. We hadn't done any planning, and I didn't even go to Zimbabwe."

"One day I want their heads on posts," Nikki grumbled, "But it's better to do this I know."

"Once we have our army," Bolantine nodded, "We'll have plenty of time to put the lid on them. I fully intend to see them locked up the same way they did to us. Let them spend eternity underground."

"Want to drive?" Nikki asked him, finally, "I really don't feel like it at this point."

"Sure," Bolantine told her, "It's been a long day, actually doing something may keep me awake long enough for me to get a chance to show you how much I'm glad to be with you again."

"You'd better," Nikki smiled, "I'm sick of freezing my ass off up here alone. Next time I'm going with you."

"One of us needs to stay here," Bolantine reminded her, "I don't trust them yet."

"Me either," Nikki agreed, "So next time you get to stay..."

Bolantine nodded and shifted the Russian van into gear. He just hoped that she wouldn't go cowgirl on him again. He knew his hold on this situation was tenuous at best. The Russians weren't going to stay dumb forever.

Chapter 10 – Return to Marden Mine

Mason Stone pulled the van in front of the old guard gate. Since the first massacre, the old facility was no longer active, the former military guard post was empty and deteriorating from lack of maintenance. He lit a bland American cigarette and made a face as he stepped out onto the shoulder of the road.

"Some things never change," Mason said, looking at the old guard post, "I think this was the only building left standing last time we were here."

"The feds didn't even bother to clean up the remains of the old research building," Jim said, "I had a sat scan done of this area. You can see the foundation from the old building still there after all this time. They moved the bodies, nothing else."

"You've got eyes like a hawk," Mason said, "Do a search of the area of anything abnormal. Karen and I are going to go take a look at the mine itself."

"Brave man," Jim said, "I saw enough of that place last time."

"We need a feel for him," Karen said, "Bolantine is back in the wild. We need to figure out where he went."

"I've started tracking incidents," Jim said, "We need a contact in the American Intelligence Community. I can hack into some of the systems, but I can't finish it off."

"Check the feds," Karen said, "See if you can find a likely target that will work with us. We need some new friends."

"I'll look into it," Jim said, "I'll have to stop searching every once in a while before I go nuts anyway."

"Shall we go, Karen?" Mason asked her.

Karen nodded and walked out of the van. Mason followed and was slightly surprised by how cool it was outside. He had not been in Washington State since they had dropped the roof on Bolantine's head. The cool weather never ceased to amaze him. He walked through the field and looked at the old foundation.

"Some things never change," Mason said, "People seem to die when Bolantine is around."

"Too many people," Karen nodded, "But they were gone when we got here. Nothing we could do."

"I know," Mason nodded, "Let's go down to the mine."

Karen nodded. She felt much the same as Mason did. Finding out that Bolantine was back among the living didn't make her any happier than it did him, but she was better at handling feelings than he was. She touched him on the shoulder as they walked.

"Too many dead people," Mason said, "Where's the new entrance?"

"Looks to be a quarter mile south of the original mine," Karen said, referring to the map Jim printed out for them, "The government facility was put here because of the mine. New people wanted the deeper ore, so they went to the best spot on the mountain for what they wanted."

"And got more than they asked for," Mason grunted, "Let's find it."

The two of them jogged along the lower edge of the mountain and found the second mine opening. It had grown over a bit in the intervening years since the second massacre. Mason looked at the entrance and was only a little surprised at finding it locked up solid.

"Lock is rusty," Mason said, picking it up, "No one has been here since Bolantine escaped."

"Lucky," Karen said, "The cops probably spent a couple months trying to figure it out but without reasonable suspects...'

"It would have gone cold," Mason nodded, "No local cop would be able to crack this. I wouldn't have either. To all but a few dozen people in this world an immortal is a being of fiction, existing only in movies and books."

"If only," Karen said wistfully, "We going in?"

"I want a feel for their mindset," Mason nodded as he pulled out a pistol, "Stand back."

Mason fired a single shot that shattered the insides of the rusty lock. A single heavy pull was all it took for him to be able to remove it and toss it aside. He pulled out the chain and opened one of the heavy metal doors. Karen handed him a flashlight and he used it to illuminate the cavern.

"Are you sure?" Karen asked him.

"Wait here," Mason nodded, "I'll go alone."

Karen said nothing, but watched as Mason went down the shaft. She sighed and sat down on a large rock. She didn't know what Mason intended to accomplish in there, but she knew enough to let the man work out his demons on his own.

Mason Stone had actually thought about Bolantine many times during the intervening years. The two men were actually quite a bit alike, strong willed and carried great love for their mates. They also had their differences as Bolantine was a complete psychopath, while Mason was not.

Mason walked down the quiet passage and headed for the end of the tunnel. It was all professionally done with modern steel beam reinforcement, though the steel was starting to rust slightly from being underground so long. It wasn't right until the very end that he saw the pickaxes and the crudely dug opening.

"That's where they hit the chamber," Mason mumbled, "Pandora's box."

He went over and crawled through the opening. He was not a small man, but he still had room to go through comfortably. When he got through memories started flooding back to him. A simple flashlight shine up the shaft showed the remains of where the old shaft had been. They had both fallen the nearly thirty feet down to the bottom.

Bolantine and Nikki had obviously lain together during their entombment as well. The dirt still showed the impressions of their bodies. Mason imagined that they probably had gone into a mostly dormant sleep as there was nothing really to keep their senses occupied.

Mason looked around for a few minutes and turned off the light. The sheer darkness was eerie, making him almost feel sorry for the evil beings he had entombed in this mine many years before. He experienced what it was like for a few minutes before turning on the light and heading back to the front of the mine.

"How was it?" Karen asked him dryly.

"Dark," Mason replied curtly, "Let's see if Jim has found anything that could help us."

Karen nodded. She didn't want to think about what it was like in that cave. They had come within a hair of being buried underneath the mountain when Jim's explosive started its countdown early. She shuddered and followed Mason back up to the van.

"Find anything?" Jim asked them without looking up as they entered the van, "Other than rocks."

"Not a thing," Mason said, "You?"

"I have something," Jim said, pointing Mason to the monitor, "Take a look."

"What is it?" Karen asked, looking at it, "Looks like a satellite image."

"It is," Jim said as he hit another button causing a split screen, "Two of them."

"Explain," Mason said, "You're showing us this for a reason."

"Anomaly recognition," Jim said, "This area has not changed much in the past few years since the mine shut down. I took six images, two from before the mine went down and four after. I purloined this software from the NSA archive and set it to work."

"What does it do?" Karen asked.

"Cops are using it to find body dump sites," Jim said, "It can also be used to look for just about anything. It compares the images for change and eliminates "natural" phenomena such as foliage, falling trees and lightning strikes."

"This is fascinating," Mason said, "What did you find? I'm assuming you wouldn't waste my time with this explanation if you didn't find something with it."

"Yep," Jim nodded and hit buttons to focus, look at the two images closer, "See something different?"

"There's an object in the second one," Mason said, "I can't tell what it is."

Jim sharpened it up and the object came into focus a bit more. Mason and Karen both tried to make it out, but they couldn't see it. Jim played with the controls a bit more, and it focused up a little.

"What is it?" Mason asked him.

"It's a video camera," Jim told him, "Commercial grade. There was a film crew there for a documentary. The cameraman was never found despite a search of the area. It came up in the anomaly detection. I ran an object comparison to find out what it was."

"How old is it?" Karen wondered, "What are the dates on your pictures, "And how do we know it's still there?"

"I have an image taken a month before Bolantine got out," Jim said, "Camera isn't there. It's there in the subsequent four images, including the one I got from this morning's pass of the geosat II."

"Why didn't the cops find him," Mason wondered, "How far from here?"

"Two miles," Jim said, "While the camera is out in the open, It is not a well-traveled area. Looks full of brush. My guess is that he ran away from Bolantine and just got lost and died."

"Let's go check it out," Karen said, "We might as well give the cameraman's family some comfort."

Chapter 11 – Natalia's Mission

Bolantine and Nikki walked into their quarters, which were well off the standard area. They had done this to make sure that the rank and file didn't know just how far into things they really were.

Waiting in the anteroom was a young woman, sitting and reading on an E-ink reader. Natalia Biryukova had been working for Bolantine for over a year, having transferred employment from one of their best tissue procurement specialists when Bolantine saw her talents in taking out one of Ronco's enemies.

"Welcome back, comrade," Natalia told the immortal as she held up the newspaper article on the reader, "I hear the Old Bailey mission was a success."

"Yes," Bolantine agreed, "How is our friend Ronco holding up?"

Ronald Coleridge was an Australian working as a tissue dealer out of Morocco. She had signed up with him after being drummed out of the FSB during Kabalin's initial purges three years earlier. She hated Ronco's guts, a fact that she never kept secret from either Bolantine or Ronco.

"Bastard is probably raping Moroccan children again," Natalia spat, "This Siberian wasteland is far preferable to working directly for that некультурныймудак."

"I'll take that as no news," Bolantine said, agreeing with her assessment of the man, "So what has been happening while I was away."

"Our old friends showed up at Marden Mine," Nikki said as she pulled up a photo on the computer, "Seems our test subject decided to check on us."

"Figures," Bolantine said, "I still want to know how the hell Gunter managed to choose the one plane that the test subject was on. Think he's found out about us somehow?"

"I doubt it," Natalia told them, "If he knew about the operation he would have stopped it on the ground instead of with a showy and dangerous air battle."

"Stone is persistent," Nikki said, "But not crazy. I think Natalia is right."

"He knows we're alive now," Bolantine said, "If he was at the mine he knows about the bodies we left behind. We need to start watching out for them before they screw up another operation."

"Ronco is pretty secure," Nikki said, "Nothing to connect him to anything right now. Using bodies provided by the customers has been a smart move so far."

"Maybe not so smart," Natalia told them, "It would have been better to use bodies not connected to the customers so it would be harder to trace the customer."

"We only did that for McIrney," Bolantine said, thinking, "I wonder if our customer has outlived his usefulness."

"Bad business, B," Nikki said, "If our customers start dying and they even think it's us..."

"Natalia," Bolantine said as he looked at the younger woman, "How is your English?"

"Fluent," Natalia replied in that language, "I can't mimic a brogue, but I should be able to work in America."

"I want you to go to Ireland," Bolantine told her, "Someone has to watch that lunatic McIrney. The Test Subject doesn't know about you yet. His damned morality won't let him do anything about you anyway."

"Sounds boring," Natalia said as she looked at her bosses, "What am I supposed to be doing there?"

"A study by our Russian friends," Nikki said, "Bring a small shipment of weapons with you and let him know you want to see how they work in the field. You did enough of that stuff for the FSB that you'll find something to do with him."

"The only person he can lead back to is Ronco," Natalia reminded them, "Is it worth this much trouble?"

"We need Ronco's resources still," Bolantine said, "He is a cretin, but he is a useful one. We cannot afford to have him compromised yet."

"I'll do it," Natalia said, "If only to get somewhere warmer than this hole."

Bolantine laughed and relaxed in the chair as he looked at the two women. They couldn't have been more different, as Nikki was barely five feet tall and obviously of Pacific-Asian descent. Natalia was blonde and five-foot eight inches tall, showing the well toned body of a soldier.

"When do I leave?" Natalia asked her boss, "And how long do you want me there?"

"Leave today," Nikki suggested, "Stay there until we decide that the test subject won't be a problem there or until we decide to collapse Ronco's operation.

"Just be sure to let me know if you decide to liquidate Ronco," Natalia suggested as she stood up to leave the room, "That is a job that I'll happily do for free."

Bolantine and Nikki both laughed at this, figuring that they'd one day have to take her up on the offer.

Chapter 12 – The Camera

Mason and Karen walked towards the coordinates of the camera. It was a warm afternoon, and Mason pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket as he always did. Karen just shook her head as he lit up.

"Back to the old habits, Mason?" Karen asked him.

"Like I have to worry about cancer," Mason shrugged, "Why?"

"You always get back to it," Karen said, "It's a constant with you."

"Bad habits are hard to break," Mason told her, "Why? You were a smoker too."

"I stopped," Karen reminded him, "I haven't had one in years."

"Maybe one day I'll be strong enough for that," Mason sighed and pointed towards the bushes, "The coordinates are a couple hundred yards that way."

"You have time," Karen said, "Just do me a favor and don't stink up the van with it. I'm trying to stay off the things."

"Ok," Mason told her, "See anything?"

"I think so," Karen said, "See that glint of light?"

"No," Mason admitted, "Your eyes are better than mine. Let's get to it."

"Works for me," Karen said and did a forward flip over the brush.

"Show off," Mason chuckled, working his way around, "How was the landing?"

"Fine," Karen grinned, "The camera is half buried, but it's here."

"What type is it?" Mason asked her, "Anything you recognize."

"High dollar model," Karen said, "It's a weatherproof videodisk recorder. Designed to take some damage. Jim can probably pull the images off it."

"There's a body down here, Karen," Mason told her as he worked his way around, "I think we found the missing cameraman."

"The clothes have rotted out but there's something sticking out of the pocket," Karen said, "Looks like a Blue Ray case."

Mason went over and pulled it out of what remained of the cameraman's pocket. He gave the body a cursory look and found no indication of foul play, only of a leg that was twisted and broken in the fall. He looked up at Karen and shook his head as he made his way back up the embankment to where the camera was.

"Looks like he was running and fell, twisted and broke his leg," Mason said, "Probably died of exposure."

"I'm glad we found this," Karen said and took the disk from Mason, "Last thing we need is this going public."

"Let's check the disk," Mason suggested, "We can call in the body on our way out of town."

"I don't know what this does for us," Karen said, "We already knew that Bolantine was out."

"It gives us a starting point," Mason said, "That's all we can hope for."

"Running in place," Karen said, "That's what we are doing."

"I'll wait for the film to agree with that," Mason said as he pulled out the videodisk, "Let's see what Jim can salvage."

They made their way back to the van and handed over the disk to the one person on their team who had the computer expertise to handle it properly. Jim examined it and spent a few minutes trying to figure out what type it was.

"Nice," Jim said, "I bet the disk is still fine, let me download that camera's codec and we may be in business."

Jim spent a bit of time pulling the codec and making them work on his older equipment. He finally got it and pulled the video out so that they could view it on the monitor.

"They took it that cavalierly," Karen said, "They had no clue that they had minutes to live."

"Bolantine strikes again," Mason said, "That scares the hell out of me. Pause that on the first shot of them."

"They were in there for over a decade," Jim said, "They look as though they were just sleeping."

"We're never going to die," Karen said, "Jesus."

"Keep playing the video," Mason instructed Jim, "Let's see what else we can find out."

They listened and watched for a few minutes. The most interesting part of it was where they talked about hidden assets. Jim stopped watching and did some research while Mason finished it off.

"A store was broken in to four days later," Jim said, "The basement wall was destroyed and two outfits were taken. Sounds like Bolantine and Nikki's motif. They fell off the radar after that."

"We're looking in the wrong country," Mason said, "We need information and a contact."

"What did you find out about our German friend on the airplane?" Karen wondered, "Any leads?"

"No," Jim said, "But I did detect some interest from the FBI."

"Who?" Mason said, "Why would the FBI be looking into a foreign hijacking? That would be the CIA's domain."

"That same source was looking into a terrorist attack in London," Jim said, checking records, "Reports are hinky on that one too."

"Track that source," Mason said, "That's our next stop. Someone else is looking for Bolantine too. We need to figure out why and if they are a friend or foe."

"I guess it's time to cross the country again," Karen sighed, "I'll start driving east."

"I'll dig," Jim said, "I'll know more by the time we make it to South Dakota."

Chapter 13 – Putin's Folly

Dr. Larion Mishkin sat in his office and pushed the gray hairs back out of his eyes. Prematurely gray at age 37, he looked older than his years and the precarious situation he found himself in was a large part of it. A teenager when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, he never knew the hard-line communist government that some did in that nation.

He did, however, know the corruption that sprung up in the aftermath of the cold war. His own father had been a small time player in the nascent Russian Mafia, finally being murdered in a Moscow Brothel shortly after his son graduated from university. The younger Mishkin had to become adept at skirting the edges of the corrupt businesses his father worked in while he attended medical school.

It was after Vladimir Putin had come into office that Mishkin started to excel. His interest in restorative medicine led to his being chosen for the secret project that he'd been working in since the year 2000. The location of the project, which Mishkin now knew was somewhat north of Norilsk in Siberia, had been denied to all the young medical technicians that were moved into the former Soviet era base.

The first years were lean and (mis)managed by former Soviet apparatchiks who had been appointed by the new Russian President. As the years passed without results Putin's interest in the project waned in the wake of scandals in Moscow and the Middle Eastern messes created by the American's folly in Iraq Mishkin moved up through the ranks.

Mishkin, who believed fervently in this research, looked for ways to keep the Russian Federation's interest in the project enough to provide funding. Through international contacts made during his reckless youth he found contact with the man who would completely change his life.

Bolantine came to Russia looking for a refuge to start his newly immortal life and leverage the bit of information he had on how he became the way he was. Bolantine had learned Russian quickly and was introduced to Mishkin while the young doctor was visiting relatives in Moscow. The two men got along quickly, especially when Bolantine revealed that he could come up with enough financing to prop up his poorly managed project.

He grumbled as he thought about it and the predicament that he was in. With Bolantine's assistance, the previous director of the project had an accident and Mishkin became the new director, bringing in new resources and security rules. The facility had become an armed camp, and progress was finally beginning to happen. The little bit of knowledge and the physical study of both Bolantine and Nikki had brought them to the point where basic reanimation had been achieved.

That achievement had given him the results needed to put the government off his back a little, but that only lasted until Putin had been deposed the year before. The new government was taking a harder line on spending and cut the project's funds by about two thirds. The new president, Aleksandr Kabalin, had little interest in the corrupt programs left by Putin, but didn't want to cut it off completely until a full audit had been completed.

Bolantine became even more important at this point, as it was his contacts and expertise that allowed him to leverage the research on the international terror for hire market. This allowed the research to continue and had made both Bolantine and Mishkin wealthy men. Unfortunately, wealth had not been the boon Mishkin had expected when he brought Bolantine into the project.

"I see you've returned," Mishkin said as Bolantine walked into the room, "More blood on our hands?"

"More data for the next round," Bolantine shrugged, "Our rent is paid for long enough to do another one. Why are you looking so glum, Larion?"

"Kabalin's auditors are looking harder at us," Mishkin told him, "They have no reason to think that he actually made it here, but they would like to know where their missing man is."

"Buried under the Arctic snows next to a wooly mammoth," Bolantine said and got back to business, "The McCarty brothers performed well, but were a bit on the slow side. I had to get much closer than I did with our German subject. The first attempt had them getting lost."

"They were dead for longer," Mishkin said, "Did they explode too?"

"Yes," Bolantine said, "Good thing too, since they were recognized. The DNA should keep them busy for years to come."

"It won't tell them anything," Mishkin said, "The DNA is destroyed in the explosion. We had another prisoner do the same thing yesterday. We thought we might have figured something out, but it got worse."

"That's not good," Bolantine grumbled, "How long had the prisoner been dead?"

"He wasn't," Mishkin said, "We dosed him while alive. It did worse than the reanimation process did. He exploded within three days, screaming the whole way."

"That's the breaks," Bolantine shrugged, wholly unconcerned about the prisoner, "Ok, so where are we on obtaining Paladnium? That was the key ingredient in what made us."

"The government controls that as a key ingredient of their nuclear program," Mishkin told him, "They want to audit us, not give us nuclear ingredients."

"That can be worked around," Bolantine told him, "We've made some money now, perhaps Paladnium can be had on the black market. I'll have to look into that."

"It won't matter if Kabalin's people send spetsnaz here," Mishkin hissed, "I've been stringing them along and keeping everyone from leaving, but this cannot last forever."

"That means we need to distract Kabalin," Bolantine told him, "That makes the next project more important. If we can get involved in something that will keep him off our backs, the better we'll have it. Keep your people working, Larion. That is imperative. We have a workable solution right now, but it isn't good enough to take on Kabalin's government yet."

"You actually want to take them on?" Mishkin asked, "Why?"

"Because they are ripe for it and have the industrial base to make a good starting point," Bolantine smiled, "There will be a new world order, run by someone with the guts to do it and the immortality to not succumb to the physical ailments of humanity. My cult of personality won't crack with age like Stalin's did."

"And you want my research for this?" Mishkin asked.

"Of course," Bolantine told him, "Wouldn't you like in on the ground floor of this? An army loyal to us, controlled by us..."

"What do you want me to do?" Mishkin asked, "Create an army of these goons?"

"Start obtaining corpses," Bolantine told him, "You can keep them on ice and start the first steps of the routine on them. If nothing else we can use them as a hedged bet against Kabalin's people."

"I love satellites," Nikki said as she came into the room, "I just watched a news report that you might be interested in, B."

"What?" Bolantine asked.

"President Kabalin is going to the States," Nikki told them, "State visit."

Bolantine smiled and let his brain go for a minute. Nikki knew what was about to happen and couldn't wait for him to say it. Mishkin dreaded it.

"I think I have an idea," Bolantine said and turned to Mishkin, "How soon can you mass produce what we have now?"

"It will take a couple months," Mishkin said, "That's only if you can keep the GRU off my case."

"A few payoffs should do that," Bolantine said, "I think I know the client that would like to see an attack on the American and Russian presidents, especially if we can blame American Extremists."

"I know just who to contact for that one," Nikki smiled, "A contact I made in Morocco can try to find us some American corpse talent."

"Now you just have to knock out some more of those problems," Bolantine told Mishkin, "We need to lengthen the time before the body explodes."

"I have some ideas," Mishkin nodded, "Our techs could use some more tests with you, however."

"You have two days," Bolantine said, "It will take us that long to get our contacts made."

"I love it when a plan comes together," Nikki smiled, "Let's get busy."

Chapter 14 – A Federal Case

"These records make no sense," Karen said as she read through another dozen pages, "The only people who knew for sure are either dead or us."

"A lot of people were involved," Mason said, "It looks as if someone is trying to piece together what happened in Boland Creek."

"Claire Robinette," Jim said finally, "She's the link."

"Who is she?" Mason asked him.

"Federal agent," Jim said, tossing the file over, "She is the federal link on the Marden Mine case."

"Which one?" Karen asked.

"Both," Jim told them, "She's only been in for six years though. She probably got handed the case after the original investigator left."

"No," Mason said, reading the file, "She would have had to pull it out of the cold case files. A case that dead wouldn't have been handed off. If anyone kept it at all it would be an older agent who wouldn't let it go, not a kid that was barely a teenager when it happened. No motion had happened on Marden Mine. It can't have moved, the participants are all dead or out of commission."

"Maybe they gave it to her after the second one?" Karen pondered.

"She pulled the case a year and a half before Bolantine escaped," Jim said, "She's got a serious interest in Marden Mine. She also pulled the files on Elliot Sumner and my old research lab in Boland Creek."

"That's odd," Mason thought, "Why would an agent who was maybe fifteen when that happened be pulling everything. Hell, there's been no sign I could find of Bolantine on this side of the pond."

"Not to mention why is an agent based out of DC watching the case?" Karen asked, "Marden Mine should have gone to the local feds out of Seattle, not to an agent in the headquarters in DC."

"The only way we will find out is to ask her," Mason said, "Keep tearing the records apart, Jim. Find out who knows anything about that mess and see if she's talked to them."

"She's not related to you or Tracer is she?" Karen asked, referring to the young woman murdered with Mason when he was a federal agent.

"Tracer had no family," Mason said, shaking his head, "I'm at a loss."

"We can be there in an hour," Jim said, "I've pulled up Robinette's personnel file. I'll drive while you two read it. I've had enough of the computers for a bit."

"Part one or part two?" Mason asked her.

"Give me the second half," Karen said, "You go over her early records. I'll go through her FBI records."

"And I'll wake you both up when we hit DC," Jim laughed.

Chapter 15 – A Car in North Dakota

Mason Stone finished off the can of half-warm cola as Jim managed to find a parking spot in the capital district. Neither Jim nor Mason had been to DC in years and it was a slightly disconcerting feeling. Years of travel had weakened their sense of being American, but there was a sense of power that still emanated from that area.

"You don't look happy," Karen noted, "You are in the capital of democracy."

"Fridge doesn't work," Mason grumbled, "And I haven't had a cigarette in two days. You know as well as I do that doesn't make for a happy immortal."

"We can buy a cold soda at one of the hotdog stands," Karen chuckled, "Good luck in finding cigarettes though. DC has been mostly smoke free for years."

"I'll settle for caffeine," Mason said, "Anyone have any ideas on how to approach our fed?"

"I still don't see how she fits in," Jim said, "Did either of you get anything?"

"No," Mason said, "Her parents were not involved in anything major. They're both long dead in fact."

"Any connections to Bolantine?" Karen wondered, "Or Elliot or anyone else?"

"Not that I could find in the file," Mason said, "We aren't going to know unless we talk to her."

"She's been reprimanded twice for borderline insubordination," Karen said, "I think she's our type of fed, Mase. Let's try a contact. If we're wrong, we can make a break and try to get to Canada."

"I agree," Mason nodded, "The easiest way to go is straight through."

"Here's the picture," Karen said, "You know how to handle yourself better than I do."

"Can you track her, Jim?" Mason asked, "I know the feds tend to carry cell phones."

"Give me a couple minutes," Jim said, "Wear your wire. I'll direct you when it's time."

"I'll get some food," Mason said, "Let me know."

"I'll do more research," Karen said, "I'll chirp in if I can add anything that might help you."

Mason nodded and left the van. He walked down the street and noticed the differences in the people. When he'd last been in the US the cars were different, and the people were different. It was a change that jarred him more and more as he got older. He was a throwback to a different time, a time when there were less people and less bustle.

He walked down a bit and found a little deli about a quarter mile away from the FBI headquarters. He hadn't had a good sandwich for a while so he placed his order and simply watched the people. Once he received his order he ate quietly as he waited for Jim to pipe in to his earpiece.

"I've got a link," Jim said, "Luckily she didn't turn off the GPS locator in her phone. She's on the move, probably walking. Cheaper than moving her car, really. Heading your direction."

"She may be heading to one of these restaurants," Mason mumbled so that only Jim could hear, "I'm in one now. Best damn sandwich I've had since that cheese steak in Philly when we buried Elise."

"I'll come get one later," Jim said, "The mark is heading your way for sure. At her rate of travel she'll be in one of those places in a couple minutes."

"Maintain passive contact," Mason said, "Cut your transmitter. Listen only unless you have a real reason to broadcast."

"Righto," Jim said, "Signing off."

Mason watched outside and caught sight of Claire as she crossed the street. She wasn't hard to identify since there were very few women dressed in FBI standard suits walking around. Her bright red hair really didn't hurt the identification either. Mason was a practiced observer and looked her over closely.

Claire Robinette stood about five feet ten and she was definitely in shape. Not busty by any means, she carried a reasonably average form and carried it well. Mason watched unobtrusively as she ordered a sandwich and carried it over to a booth in the back. She was armed, Mason could tell by the bulge in her suit, and from the size he guessed it was a 9mm automatic of some sort.

"She's here," Mason mumbled, "Here we go."

Mason stood up and dropped his trash in the can. He purchased another bottle of cola and went over to a table just behind Claire Robinette. The lunch rush had passed so there were only three or four other people in the deli. He decided to make his approach as subtly as he could.

"Agent Robinette," Mason said quietly as he leaned behind her, "If you want more information on the Marden Mine incident finish your sandwich and walk alone down the street. Go north and go alone."

"Who are you?" Robinette asked, "And what is..."

"The file you have and shouldn't," Mason said, "I will explain, but not here."

Mason stood up straight and walked out the door. Claire Robinette was stunned, but had enough professionalism to know that she wasn't likely to get anything unless she followed instructions. She finished her sandwich and walked north up the sidewalk.

Mason watched from across the street and waited until she went a block away before crossing and joining her. The young woman kept her cool and repeated her question.

"Who are you?" Robinette said, "And what do you know?"

"My name is Stone," Mason told her, "I know more than you do, otherwise, you wouldn't have come out here looking for me. Did you make any calls?"

"No," Robinette said, "Stone... You are the one who showed up in Seattle chasing Elliot Sumner."

"Maybe," Mason conceded, "Why do you care?"

"I need to know the truth," she said honestly, "And there isn't much to be had on this case."

"You had the file before the second massacre," Mason said, "You had to have a reason."

"You are well connected," Claire said, "Too well. No one outside the FBI should know I have this information."

"I have my ways," Mason said, "Give me a good reason to talk to you."

"I can have you arrested," Claire reminded him, "You are a material witness to a federal crime."

"Several of them," Mason smiled, "But I'll be gone before you can have me arrested and you'll never get the information you seek."

"So what do you want from me?" Claire asked, "You revealed yourself for a reason."

"I need information as well," Mason said, "I will trade information for information. If you're the type of agent I think you are then you won't mind the trade."

"You don't know anything," Claire said.

"I know too much," Mason said, "A lot of people were killed in Marden Mine."

"I don't care about the mine," Claire said, "I care about a cross-country trip made by Elliot Sumner and an unnamed woman."

This took Mason aback. He wasn't expecting her to bring that up. Elliot Sumner was a sore subject among the immortals. He had been the last link to the serum and mercifully he was long dead, his remains entombed in Marden Mine along with Bolantine and Nikki.

"Why?" Mason said, "What could you possibly know about that?"

"Nothing," Claire said bitterly, "My father was killed and I don't know why."

"I should have found this earlier," Jim said into the earpiece, "Her father was found dead in the trunk of his car in Butte, Montana. He had last been seen in Bismarck, North Dakota the same night that Elliot and the psycho chick were nearly killed there."

"Your father was murdered by the crazy bitch that took Elliot to Seattle," Mason said, his mind racing, "This makes sense finally."

"You know more than that," Claire said, her experience telling her that Mason wasn't telling her everything, "You found me for a reason."

"We need to talk more," Mason agreed, "But not in public. If you want to know what happened to your father come with me. If not, you will never know. Everyone else involved is dead."

"Where?" Claire asked.

"To a place we can talk unobserved," Mason said, "Jim, we need a pickup."

"Ok," Claire said, "This is creepy."

Mason put his finger to his lips and waited. Jim drove the van to the location, but when Mason opened the side door he noticed that Karen was not there. He invited Claire in who followed mainly because of her interest.

"Karen is the backup," Jim said, "Welcome, Agent Robinette."

"Backup?" Claire asked.

"If you burn us," Mason explained, "Karen will burn you."

"I have no intention of burning anything," Claire said, "I just want to know what happened to my father."

"He was murdered by a psychopath," Mason said, "Her name was Elise Steele."

"Why didn't you turn that over to the cops?" Claire asked him, "My mother drank herself to death after he died. Getting some closure might have saved her."

"I didn't learn the name myself until seven years ago," Mason said, "As for why I didn't tell anyone, I would have had to reveal who I was to do that."

"Who are you?" Claire asked, "You obviously know a bit about who I am."

"My name is Mason Stone," he said, "I was a federal agent running an agent around when I was gunned down by one of Bolantine's hoods. I became the test subject for an experimental compound created at that research center in Boland Creek."

"Right," Claire said, "Did I just walk into the twilight zone? You're twenty-five if you're a day, which makes you younger than me."

"You're going to have to show her, boss," Jim told him, "I did it last time, your turn."

"Ok," Claire said, "I thought you had information but you're obviously goofing off. This is crazy..."

"Do you really think I'd make up a story this bad?" Mason asked her, "Let me prove it. Do you have a knife on you?"

Claire thought about it and decided to give him the knife. She knew she had a gun and despite the insane story he'd told so far she didn't get the usual vibe she got from liars. She pulled out the military grade lock blade and handed it over to Mason Stone. He pulled off his jacket and pulled the sleeve up on his shirt.

"Just to prove that I'm not using a high dollar prosthetic," Mason said and pulled open the knife, "Watch my arm."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked, "You're not..."

Without another word Mason plunged the knife into his arm as Claire shuddered. This was the normal reaction he got. What came next as he dragged the knife through his flesh and it healed up around the blade was something else entirely.

"Oh my God," She said, "What the hell are you?"

"Something unnatural," Mason said, handing her the knife back after wiping off the blood, "Something that should never be and that if I have my way about it will never be again."

"No wonder the military locked it up," Claire said, "Do they have it?"

"No," Mason said, shaking his head, "Sumner escaped before Colonel Strader could close in. Karen and I torched the place so the army couldn't recreate it."

"So my father was collateral damage?" Claire asked, "Who is this Elise Steele person?"

"Worked for a crime lord in the east," Mason said, "She was hired to bring Sumner and the slop to Seattle."

"To Bolantine," Claire surmised, "This makes so much sense now."

"Your father was killed because he had a car when Elise needed one," Mason told her, "No more, no less."

"Now, I have someone to chase," Claire smiled, "That will help."

"She's dead," Mason told her, "I guess since I've told you this much I can tell you that. Elise Steele tried to become a famous serial killer seven years ago. She failed. She rotted away of lung cancer watching the blame be put on someone else."

"That's a story I'd like to hear," Claire said, "But you're sure she's dead?"

"I buried her myself," Mason nodded, "The only people in this story who aren't dead are Bolantine and his bitch."

"Marden Mine II," Claire said, "They were dosed with the serum weren't they?"

"We got there the first time after everyone else was dead," Mason told her, "It was close, but we did the best thing we could. We dropped them down a mineshaft and killed Elliot Sumner. Sumner was the last of the serum creators. His remains were pulverized in the mountain as well."

"This finally makes some sense," Claire sighed, "But why are you coming to me now?"

"Bolantine," Mason said, "He was released in that second massacre. I think you need to see something, just to get an idea of what we're up against."

Mason pulled down the video screen and started up the videodisk that they had recovered from the camera near Marden Mine. Claire shuddered as she watched the immortal rising from the grave and looked at Mason.

"What possible good could I do with this?" Claire asked, "You know more than I do."

"You are in a better position than I am," Mason said, "I'm illegal. I don't exist. I can't direct legal resources into looking for Bolantine's test facility. I know he's out there and I want to find him before he can unleash anything else out there."

"How can I justify..." Claire started to ask and then it dawned on her, "You know something more."

"A terrorist hijacking in the skies over France," Mason nodded, "Narrowly averted from hitting the Eiffel Tower. All the terrorists died and someone reprogrammed the autolander before disappearing."

"Four of the hijackers being dead already," Claire said, "We thought they just disappeared, but if you're right..."

"I am," Mason said, "We're the missing link. There was a German on board who was regenerating almost as much as us. We all went out the hatch, but he landed without a parachute."

"What link does this have to Bolantine?" Claire wondered.

"The German referred to me as the Test Subject," Mason said, "That was Bolantine's name for me. I was the original test subject for the serum that gave him immortality."

"That is thin," Claire said, "You have to have more."

"You know more than you think," Jim said, "I noticed you pulled files on several terrorist incidents."

"That's my normal job," Claire said, "I am an analyst. I'm supposed to put the pieces together. A number of terrorist jobs have pulled up where people who were supposed to be dead came out into the light."

"Anything in common?" Mason asked, "Nationality? Anything?"

"Nothing," Claire said, "Though the Brits do have a photo of a possible collaborator in the shootings. That hasn't been made public yet, probably won't be because of the sensitive nature of the case."

"Who were the shooters?" Mason asked her, "Identifiable?"

"Two Irish terrorists who had been shot the year before," Claire said, "Their bodies had been stolen out of the morgue."

"Anything from the autopsy?" Jim wondered.

"No autopsy," Claire said, "They exploded into a radioactive mess after they were brought down. They still haven't been able to use the courtroom they were in yet."

"Does the guy in the photo look like the one in the video?" Jim asked her, pausing on a clear frame of Bolantine's face.

"I don't know," Claire said, "I haven't seen the picture yet, the Brits are holding it in house. You think Bolantine is behind this?"

"Looks like it," Mason said, "Probably how he's financing his research. We screwed him over the last time. He will keep trying."

"So what do we do now?" Claire asked.

"You go back to work," Mason said, "Keep your nose clean and don't say a word about Bolantine. You would have to explain how you know, and you know damn well that without me to back it up you'd sound like a lunatic."

"So what can I do?" Claire asked, "We have to do something."

"I'm going to continue going after Bolantine." Mason said, "Do you get to do field work?"

"Yes," Claire said, "I'm a field agent foremost. They were looking for someone to go over to the UK to consult on the Old Bailey shootings. I think Luke Gilby had it, but he will likely hand it over to me if I ask him to."

"If you can do it without raising suspicion," Mason nodded, "Check into the Paris hijacking too, see if you can find us an identity on the German."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked, "I can't bring you with me without raising suspicion."

"We'll meet you in London," Mason said without hesitation, "We're experts at getting to where we need to be. What I want from you now is a copy of the files, and none of this sanitized crap you give the Brits."

"That could be looked at as treason," Claire said, "How will you cover this?"

"No one will ever be able to put it together," Mason reminded her, "None of it makes sense unless you believe in immortals. Most of humanity does not."

"I'll get the file," Claire said, "Even if nothing comes of it I owe you that for telling me what really happened to my father."

"Here," Jim said and handed her a flash drive, "This program will copy a secure file without anyone knowing it was copied. Plug it in, put in the name of the file or directory and it works. Don't get caught with it."

"Right," Claire said, "Where do I meet you?"

"I'll find you when you go home," Mason said, "After that we won't meet again until we're in London."

"I'll see you then," Claire said, "I must be crazy for doing this."

"No crazier than we are," Mason said, "though that's not much consolation."

"Right," Claire nodded and left the van.

"Will she do it?" Jim asked him.

"Yes," Mason nodded, "She wants Bolantine to pay for her father's death. We can use that to our advantage."

"So long as it gets us the info we need," Jim said, "Let's go pick up Karen and get some dinner."

Chapter 16 – An Iranian With Too Much Money

Nikki Bolantine basked in the bright sunlight. It was the first time in several months she had been outside that old Russian base. She chafed a little at the scarf, but she knew it was best not to offend her host. It might have been more politic to send Bolantine, however, his language skills were not up to the task.

She walked around only the inside of the compound, knowing that walking outside it would cause trouble. Her host was accommodating, but only to a certain point. It didn't matter much, the hot Iranian sun shown just as well inside the armed camp as it did outside.

She'd been there for only a few hours, but it was long enough for her to get the lay of the land. She had been practicing her Farsi for months with a couple of language teachers who had been assigned to the Russian base they'd been living at. She just hoped it was good enough to speak with the Mullah that she was there to meet.

She walked around a bit more and sat down on a bench. She knew that she'd have to wait around a bit, as this was the first meeting they had managed to do. The first two jobs had been set up through intermediaries on the black market. They went well enough that this man was willing to meet with her.

She was surprised when she saw a marked government vehicle drive into the compound. She was expecting a bit more subterfuge, but then she was in a remote part of Iran near the Turkmenistan border. She stayed put and watched the men get out of the car.

They moved together and she noted the prayers. If she hadn't been immortal herself she'd almost be afraid of them. But in her situation at this point all she wanted was their money. She had already made electronic contact with her Moroccan contact that was already working on supplying the required American corpses.

The man who got out of the back was the one she had come to see. He spoke at length in Farsi to one of the men who had received her earlier. They pointed in her direction and he walked her way. The Mullah looked at her and sent his cronies off.

Nikki didn't pretend to be one of the faithful, as she knew that would offend him worse than being an infidel. She stood up and bowed respectfully to the man who did the same and addressed her in a traditional Farsi form. She did the same and smiled.

"Nice to finally meet you," Nikki said in Russian accented Farsi, "I apologize for the accent, I'm still learning your fine language."

"Zdravstvuite," the Mullah said in Russian, "Would it be preferable to converse in this language?"

"Spasiba," Nikki said, smiling, "My Russian is far better than my Farsi."

"Our tongue is one that takes a light touch to master," he nodded, "You have done well in a short time. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ayatollah Camran Alazzi. You met my representative in Tripoli last year. He described you and your partner in glowing terms."

This introduction stopped Nikki for a moment. She was expecting someone high ranking, but not Camran Alazzi, the head of the Iranian intelligence services. She had not realized until then just how serious they had taken the Bolantine operation.

"I thank you for your presence, Ayatollah," Nikki said, "I was not expecting to meet someone of your prominence. I am honored."

"I did not want to entrust this meeting to anyone else," Alazzi said, "We were impressed by your display in London. Crude, but effective. No witnesses and no one they can track. Most impressive thing I've seen in the last decade."

"That was a simple demonstration," Nikki said, "And a quick job for some of our Irish friends. Our research does not come cheap, you know."

"I don't know how you have pulled this off," Alazzi said, "I know you've come from Russia, but I also know that Kabalin's government had nothing to do with it. The man wouldn't have the balls."

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I reserve comment," Nikki said, "But Kabalin is part of the target we have for the operation we come to you with."

"Indeed," Alazzi said, looking at her, "Come inside, young lady and let us discuss."

Nikki followed him into the facility and kept her eyes respectfully down and avoided eye contact with any of the guards. It was a fragile tightrope that she was walking and one wrong move would put her in jeopardy.

"Have a seat," Alazzi told her, "What makes you think I would be interested in removing the Russian president? Kabalin is weak, not worth the effort."

"But his government is working with the west," Nikki told him, "Besides, what if I told you we could remove both him and the American President at the same time?"

"I'd say I was looking at a war for my country," Alazzi said, "You're bluffing."

"We've been working with reactionary forces in the Russian Republic," Nikki said, "With Kabalin out of the way and the Americans cut impotent by the attack... Your country could finish the atomic work they've wanted for years while the Americans and Russians bluster at each other."

"Not if I'm involved," Alazzi said, "How do you propose to keep me out of it?"

"Easy," Nikki said, "The same way I kept us out of the Old Bailey operation. We use bodies that can't be traced to us."

"I'm intrigued," Alazzi nodded, "Explain your plan."

"Kabalin is scheduled to go to the US," Nikki told him, "We have a process that lets us reanimate men. These men tend to follow instructions very well."

"You intend to kill the two best-defended men in the planet?" Alazzi said, "This is not a courtroom with a mid level Irish mobster... What makes you think you can do this? How many people do you think you can reanimate like this?"

"Dead men tell no tales," Nikki said, "Corpses don't talk. We've struck a deal with someone in Morocco. He's putting together an impressive array of American bodies, all to be put on ice in an abandoned facility in the desert."

"And you think you can do this under the noses of the American law enforcement?" Alazzi said, "What makes you think so?"

"No one would believe it," Nikki said, "These men will all come up in the system as dead. There is no one to trace. There is no way to interview them. The bodies will self destruct before anyone can examine them thoroughly."

"I've seen your work on a smaller scale," Alazzi said, "Are you able to do this on a scale big enough?"

"The process takes an hour," Nikki told him, "We can do up to twenty at a time."

"How much prep time?" Alazzi said.

"Almost none," Nikki said, "We go in. We set up. We set them loose."

"Your zombies against highly trained Marines," Alazzi said, "Doesn't seem like it will work."

"Two waves," Nikki said, "Small feint to one side and the main force overwhelming."

"You're talking about an army," Alazzi said, "How many bodies?"

"A hundred," Nikki said, "All as durable as the two we used on the Old Bailey."

"You're insane," Alazzi said, "That would cost millions."

"But if it works..." Nikki said, "We've not failed on a job yet."

"What about Paris?" Alazzi asked, "The plane landed safely."

"That was a job for Mugabe," Nikki said, "The report he wanted quashed was quashed."

"You were double dipping," Alazzi noted, "I had heard tell of that job being done for a German concern."

"It was not a total success," Nikki admitted, "But it got the point across."

Alazzi nodded and sat there for a moment. He knew that the plan was crazy, but he had seen enough and believed that his subordinates who had seen the tests were not lying. He thought about the benefits and the costs. Money was not a factor for him, and he knew that there could be benefits.

"And your plan if this fails?" Alazzi asked her.

"The publicity alone will destabilize Kabalin," Nikki said, "That will make him easier to remove. Best of all, all the fingerprints and the faces will all belong to known American extremists."

"And nothing to tie it to us," Alazzi said, "Because if it gets traced to anyone, it will be traced to you. And you were never here."

"All this chaos could be yours for a nice reasonable fee," Nikki said, smiling, "In order to pull this off we need funding."

"I figured that was coming," Alazzi said, "You didn't come here just for our sunshine."

"I can get sunshine in Europe," Nikki said, "But no one has as much of a reason to want the cooperation between the Russians and Americans to evaporate before the UN votes on the pending resolution condemning your atomic program."

"Name your price, young lady," Alazzi said, looking at her, "I'll decide if I think it is worth it."

"120 million US," Nikki said, "Half now to finance and thirty for each presidential corpse."

"That's a lot of money," Alazzi told her, "A lot to be laundered."

"Not too hard," Nikki said, "You've spent more for less."

"Especially since I don't think you will get to the president," Alazzi said, "You do realize that you will have nowhere to hide if you are, shall we say, playing with us."

"And give up 60 million dollars?" Nikki smiled, "Not a chance."

"We won't meet again," Alazzi said, "You will never set foot in Iran again."

"You know how to reach us," Nikki agreed, "Kabalin is due in the US within a month. You should hear something soon."

The two of them spent the rest of the evening talking over plans and working out the transfer.

Chapter 17 – London Calling

Traveling to Great Britain was easy for Mason and company. They were unarmed and unassuming. Even Jim knew how to handle himself in the security lines, being polite and normal. They had perfect travel documents and expertly forged biometric identification. It cost them a pretty penny for new sets of identification, but that was not a major concern.

Mason spent the entire trip reading the files that Claire had passed on to them. He was most intrigued by the file on the Old Bailey massacre. The fact that the bodies had exploded made him think that it was related to Bolantine. He didn't discuss it on the plane, but the pictures of the incident made him suspicious.

"Think we're clear yet?" Jim asked Mason when they were in a rented car driving away from Heathrow, "Because some things don't add up."

"I think we are," Mason said, "So long as I don't wreck us forgetting which side of the blasted road to drive on."

"Some of the files are useful ones," Karen said, "A lot of it is crap."

"He's only had two years," Jim said, "How the hell has he gotten this far?"

"He had to have help," Mason said simply, "Somewhere outside the US. He couldn't get away with a project like this in a place with a free press."

"We need to talk to Claire again," Karen said, "I want to meet her this time."

"You will," Mason told her, "She got the assignment. She flew over on a government jet the day before yesterday."

"So what have you come up with?" Karen asked Jim, "Anything?"

"I've been beating down the data," Jim said, "Despite the idiotic war on terror a few years back there are more terrorist incidents now than there were ten years ago. Four hundred and twelve major ones in the last two years."

"Any way to knock them down?" Mason asked, "Sort them out?"

"I need more information on some confirmed Bolantine caused incidents," Jim told them, "How do we get a hold of Claire?"

"We've got a room at the same hotel," Karen said, "I set that up when I made our reservations over here. I think we have the connecting room."

"Good," Mason said, "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Mason parked their rented car and the three of them checked in to the hotel. The identities they had built for this trip were solid, so they were not overly worried about anything. They walked in and paid in advance for a week. In the room they set up shop with Jim's new Mac laptop so they could get the updates they wanted.

"I want a security perimeter set up," Mason said, "I don't trust anyone right now, not Claire and certainly not the British government."

"You two do that," Jim said, "I'm going to hack into the security system. I should be able to get a line on the whole building that way."

"Let's sweep the room," Mason said, "I'll go high, you go low."

Karen nodded and the two of them did their job. By the time they had finished Jim had tapped into the security system and had readings on every room in the building. He knew where everyone was and was able to see who was moving around at any given time.

"Can anyone detect you?" Mason asked Jim, "This is useless unless no one is able to tell."

"It would take someone as good as I am," Jim said, "Not likely unless they suspect they are being used this way. Since I'm just passively watching and wiping my access records it is unlikely."

"Good," Mason said, sitting down and starting to relax, "Our friend in her room yet?"

"Yep," Jim nodded, "Security cameras caught her going in three hours ago. She registered yesterday on a government account."

"Here goes nothing," Karen said and knocked on the connecting door.

"Who is it?" Claire asked.

"Friends, Claire," Mason said, "A man about a car in North Dakota."

Claire Robinette came into the room and sat down on the spare chair. She looked around at the three immortals she had allied herself with and wondered what she had let herself in for.

"You must be Karen," Claire said, holding out a hand, "I'm Agent Claire Robinette."

"Nice to finally meet you," Karen told her, shaking her hand, "I'm glad we were able to exorcise some of these demons for you."

"I did some research," Claire said, "The photographs of Elise Steele match the ones of the woman who committed the other murders. I'm glad to finally know what happened."

"She won't hurt anyone else," Karen smiled, "We'll even tell you the location of the grave."

"That's for later," Claire smiled, "Here's some more information on Old Bailey. They found a camera showing a van that let the shooters loose."

"Please tell me they got a picture of who let them loose," Jim said hopefully, "That would be the confirmation we were looking for."

"If Bolantine was dumb enough to do it himself," Karen said, "Not bloody likely."

"I don't know," Mason said, "Bolantine can't have built too large an organization. My guess is that it would be either him or Nikki."

"That's assuming they are still together," Jim said, "We have no proof of that. We don't have a bit of evidence on anything other than them getting out of the mine over two years ago."

"And the anecdotal evidence from the German on the Paris flight," Mason said, "Did they give you the picture?"

"Yep," Claire nodded, handing over a thumb drive, "It's not great but they are hoping that we will be able to identify him."

"Let's see what we get," Jim said while putting the drive in his Mac, "I figured we'd be doing video work at some point. I loaded some good comparison software in this machine."

"Let's see what you get," Mason said and looked at Claire, "Did you raise any suspicion by asking for this assignment?"

"No," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "Luke Gilby was looking for anyone willing to take this off his plate. I made it sound like I wanted to see London and that I'd finished up with something else. He gave it over with his blessings and a twenty minute discussion on what to go see while over here. He's sick of traveling."

"Good," Mason said, "You made the right choice in trusting us, by the way. You wouldn't crack this without us."

"I checked up on you," Claire said, "Four different files and no one has really connected them. Impressive."

"Don't provide the connection," Mason suggested, "They'll ask you how you made an impossible connection."

"I have no intention of blowing this," Claire agreed, "If you are right then Bolantine needs to go down. None of the stuff in the files indicated that you were anything but on the side of good."

"Holy shit," Jim said, "Jackpot. Look at this, Mase."

Mason went over and looked at the screen on Jim's laptop. He shook his head and let off a little bit of a smile. Claire looked, but didn't see anything that she recognized."

"Is it him?" Claire asked.

"It is Bolantine," Mason said, "His hair is a bit shorter, but that's definitely him. Bolantine set them off."

"Jim," Karen said, "Those incidents you have been sorting, pull out the ones where the culprits were caught or killed without a problem. Bolantine isn't that creative. He wouldn't be doing this without a gimmick."

"How is he doing this?" Claire wondered, "He's built this in two years? I don't believe it."

"Bolantine is an old style gangster," Mason explained, "Grew up under Capone in the twenties. He doesn't create anything. He takes it, exploits it and warps it to his own evil image."

"So we need to find out where he got this," Claire said, "Because he couldn't have started it on his own?"

"Exactly," Mason said, "Someone was already working on a program similar to what created us. Not surprising, people have been working on this for centuries."

"Fountain of youth," Claire said, "Sounds almost admirable."

"Until you think of the consequences," Karen said, "We've been shot, burned, stabbed, blown up and thrown out of airplanes. We can't die, Claire. I'm old enough to be your grandmother. I look like I'm your younger sister."

"How old are you?" Claire wondered.

"Old enough to be in a nursing home," Mason said, "Karen should have been in the ground from cancer. Jim should be committing malpractice as an aged drunken doctor. Instead, we're immortal and chasing this asshole still."

"And you?" Claire wondered.

"I should either be dead from smoking too much or in a nursing home," Mason said a wry smile on his face, "Or more likely dead from the gunshots that Bolantine's goons inflicted. Either way, I shouldn't be here anymore than Karen or Jim."

"Ok," Jim said, "I've sorted out the ones that have identification. The ones that either had disappearing or exploding bodies are flagged. We're down to about twenty or so."

"That's manageable," Mason said, "Any rhyme or reason to them?"

"A lot of them are Iranian funded," Claire said, looking at the list, "We've been fighting that battle for thirty years."

"Ok," Jim said, "I've pulled out a few others due to timing. It looks like incidents like Old Bailey have been happening mainly for the past four months. Paris was the fifth one."

"Most of them have no one to identify," Mason said, "This is insane. Where is he coming up with this?"

"He has to be getting the bodies somewhere," Karen said, "I mean... he isn't just pulling bodies out of the graveyard. He would have to have fresh meat."

"I'll start tracking that," Jim said, "If Claire goes through channels on that she will just attract attention that she doesn't need."

"I'll go after the Iranian moneymen," Claire said, "That's where I'll be expected to look. Every administration since Carter has been looking for proof that terrorists are being funded out of Iran."

"I think we have a plan," Mason said, "We'll go after the bodies, you go after the funding."

"How is that going to help?" Karen asked, "Can we use any of that to find him?"

"If I can prove that the Iranians are bankrolling an attack on the US then we can cut off Bolantine's funding," Claire told her, "The Iranians are on a tight leash. They aren't going to keep funding Bolantine if it makes them look bad."

"Whichever way works," Jim said, "This tells us only where he's been. Not where he's going."

"I think I know how to make contact," Mason said, "It's going to take a trip to Northern Ireland."

"The friends of those two who were used in Old Bailey," Claire said, "You won't get anything out of them. The Brits have been trying for years."

"The Brits play by the rules," Mason smiled, "I don't have that limitation. Bolantine needs to go down. I don't care if I have to make life miserable for a few Irish militants to do it."

"I don't want to know," Claire said, "But I'll get the information on it. I can say it's for international tracking purposes. The Brits won't care, they'll play along with anything that makes life miserable for those bastards."

"I'll do some research on Ireland," Karen said, "Jim, dig up what you can from international channels."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked Mason.

"Read your files," Mason said, "As soon as you get them to us."

Claire looked at the three of them and just shook her head. She couldn't believe that they were so dedicated to stopping someone that they were not responsible for. She knew, however, that it would be a good thing if they succeeded and determined that she would do everything in her power to aid them.

Chapter 18 – Thirty Days

Bolantine read the encoded message from Nikki and smiled. It was news good enough to almost make him forget that he was in a God forsaken Siberian base. He almost didn't notice when Larion Mishkin stormed into the radio room.

"We have thirty days," Mishkin exclaimed, "Kabalin's flunkies are planning on shutting us down."

"Kabalin will be dead in 20," Bolantine said, "If your current formula can be carried out en masse that is."

"Electricity and the serum," Mishkin said, "But Kabalin is still sending someone out this week."

"The plane won't make it," Bolantine promised, "When do we expect them?"

"Anytime," Mishkin sighed, "This is not good."

"They still have to get here," Bolantine said, "What is the travel route they are taking?"

"I don't know," Mishkin said, "They are suspicious. The last two men they sent died."

"So will the third," Bolantine promised, "I will take care of it on my way out to help Nikki. Now, we need to figure out how to build what we need without attracting attention in the US."

"Generators and some basic electrical equipment," Mishkin said idly, "I could walk you through it in an hour."

"You won't have to," Bolantine said, "You are taking a trip along with us. Have you been to the US before?"

"You're kidding," Mishkin said, "I speak no English."

"Neither does half of America," Bolantine shrugged, "You don't have to be involved in the operational aspects, I just want you there to bring back the bodies."

"Who will run this place while I'm gone?" Mishkin said, "This place is a tightly run group of scientists?"

"Who can perform for a week without you," Bolantine said, "Do you have anyone else you trust for this?"

"No," Mishkin admitted, "I don't really want them to know what you are using their creation for."

"That would likely be detrimental to morale," Bolantine agreed, "So you will cover it with a trip to see Kabalin's flunkies while he is abroad."

"When?" Mishkin asked him, resigned to it.

"You leave next week," Bolantine told him, "I've got to go to Moscow to take care of our travel papers, not to mention your troublesome investigators."

"Where is Nikki?" Mishkin asked.

"She secured funding," Bolantine said, "And is now securing the bodies we need. She will meet us in the Arizona desert in ten days."

"Arizona?" Mishkin said, "Why there?"

"Close to the President," Bolantine said, "Stop asking questions and get prepared. I'll be back before I go to the states to show you how to get through yourself."

"I'll be ready," Mishkin promised, "Nikki had better be as well."

"She will be," Bolantine smiled, "She's looking forward to this."

That thought alone was enough to scare the daylights out of Dr. Larion Mishkin.

Chapter 19 – The Irish Republic

Mason Stone walked off the plane onto the tarmac of the Belfast International Airport. It was the first time he'd been in Northern Ireland since the accords had been signed. Mason walked around in the fresh Irish morning and waited for Karen and Jim to come off the plane.

"Ready?" Mason asked Karen as she walked out, "We have some work to do."

Mason lit a cigarette and caught a nasty glare from Karen as she walked around stretching out from the trip. Both of them were sick of riding in airplanes, despite the fact that this was a charter and only lasted an hour and a half.

"You're lucky we're on the airstrip," Karen reminded him, "Even Ireland doesn't allow smoking anymore."

"Good thing I'm not inside," Mason said dryly, "Who is our target?"

"Seamus McIrney," Jim said, "He was a thug with the old IRA when he was young. When they went legit, they left him behind. He's been trying to relive his glory days ever since."

"Do the Brits know where he is?" Mason asked, "I'd think they would want him and good."

"They do," Jim said, "The Irish want him even worse. They are trying to revive the tourist trade and McIrney's group makes for bad press."

"Why are we trying for him then?" Karen wondered, "How much can he tell us?"

"The two cretins that shot up Old Bailey worked for him," Jim said, handing over pictures, "The Irish mobster they killed was McIrney's competition. He had the most to gain from that mess and as a former IRA man he has the connections to the old Soviet bloc."

"You think Bolantine is working through them, do you?" Karen asked.

"It's likely," Mason said, "Russia or China would be the best place for Bolantine to get lost and produce a project like this."

"Either way we need to find him," Jim said, "If we can find his suppliers then we can keep working the chain."

"Or set up a trap," Mason finished, "This is likely the first step."

The three of them walked over to a rental car waiting for them near where the plane had stopped. Mason got behind the wheel as he was the best driver in the group without question.

"How solid are these leads," Mason asked, "And why haven't the Brits followed up."

"I put these together using both American and British intelligence," Jim said, "It would take a good analyst with access to both data sets to figure this out."

Mason nodded. He had no doubts that Jim Entragian was a first-class intelligence analyst. He and Karen were no slouches in that department, as they could work in any intelligence agency in the world, but Jim could outdo nearly anyone in that department.

"Where are we going?" Mason asked.

"We're going to the quickest way to a madman's heart," Jim said, "We're going after his girlfriend."

"We don't hurt innocents," Karen said, "You know that."

"She's not an innocent," Jim said, "She's responsible for as many killings as he is."

"We won't have to hurt her," Mason said, "We grab her and he'll come out of the woodwork."

"Why do I not like the sound of this?" Karen asked.

"The cops will stay out of it," Jim said, "They won't want anything to do with the people we're tangling with."

"Besides," Mason said, "Jim used a different set of identities to create the flight plan. They won't be able to link them without trouble, trouble they won't take in this case."

"So what is the plan?" Karen asked, "Go in and grab the girl and walk her out?"

"Yes," Mason said, "You and I are going in. Jim will be the driver."

"Just once can't you use Jim for the dirty stuff?" Karen sighed, "Why me?"

"You have a better eye and can work under pressure," Mason said simply, "Jim would shoot someone when it wasn't necessary."

"Yeah," Karen agreed, "Probably himself. Let's get this done."

"What do you want me to do?" Jim asked.

"Keep the engine running and program the GPS," Mason told him, "We need to get to the safe house quickly."

"Roger wilco," Jim said, "I have that part set up."

"Good," Mason said, handing a photo to Karen, "That is our target. Her name is Sloane Mullan. This photo is recent, they've been watching her on and off for leads, but she is too good to be tripped up like that."

"I hope she falls for this," Karen said, "I would hate to have to do something we'll both regret."

"I would like to avoid that as well," Mason said, "Let's go, Karen and hope that it goes well."

Mason and Karen walked into the pub. Their eyes went all around the place as they went to the bar. Mason ordered for them in a flawless Irish Brogue, getting two local pints of Guinness. They both drank deeply on the good Irish draught as they found the girl they were looking for. She was sitting with another person in a corner booth.

Mason subtly pointed Karen in the right direction and let her confirm the identification. It was a game they had practiced more than once, though not often in a hostile environment like this. They finished off their drinks and listened to the conversation. Being outsiders they garnered a few looks, but an outsider in an Irish pub is not necessarily a bad thing.

Rounds of drinks were bought and Mason made sure to buy his share. He could keep up the conversation enough for Karen who could not match his prowess in the accent by any stretch. They partook in the pub atmosphere for a while as they confirmed that the girl was the one they wanted.

Mason and Karen finally made their way over to her. She had taken part of the conversation a bit, but kept to the back of the group. Mason added enough to the conversation that they didn't look out of place but managed to avoid becoming the center of attention. When Mason and Karen set sights on Sloane Mullan no one batted an eye.

Karen had the harder job of the two as she was carrying a pistol that was highly illegal in the United Kingdom. She was doing it because she knew that no one would expect the woman to be the gun holder. Mason turned his back to the crowd slightly to speak with Sloane. No one was really looking at them; their attention was on an older man telling a lively story.

"Sloane Mullan?" Mason asked her quietly, still holding on to his accent like the pro he was.

"So what's it to you?" She replied, "Who are you?"

"Someone looking for your boyfriend," Mason said quietly so only she could hear, "Look down by your ribs, dear girl."

Karen was holding the pistol in her hand covered by a cloak. She let Sloane see it so that she would know just how serious the situation was. Mason smiled at her as her eyes went wide.

"If you so much as show your surprise she'll blow your spine in half," Mason told her, "Will anyone notice if you leave?"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Mason nodded and indicated that it was time for her to leave. She looked at him in alarm.

"Come quietly and no one else gets hurt," Mason said, still smiling, "You won't go down alone if you make things nasty."

She fought back her fear and knew that it was best to go. She smiled and paid for her last round with Karen right by her back with her shawl covered hand. The three of them walked out the door and got into the back seat of the waiting car.

"Get us out of here, Jim," Mason said, "Before anyone realizes what happened."

"You can't do this!" Sloane exclaimed, "It isn't legal! Do you know who my boyfriend is?"

"I do," Mason nodded, "That's why you're here. Now be quiet and keep smiling until we are at a place we can talk."

Chapter 20 – A Plane in Russia

Bolantine quietly took his aisle seat in the unassuming Russian plane. He couldn't identify the type, but it was one of the post-Soviet Russian Aircraft from Beriev. He pulled back his blonde hair and looked around as he tried to identify the hapless agent that was sent out to inspect the project he had taken over.

Bolantine was amused by the fact that commercial air travel had come so far in Russia. When he was younger the Russians were so far behind that it was difficult to get anywhere, but now Aeroflot had service to all the moderately large Russian cities. This flight was to the small city that was a mere ninety miles from the base. Bolantine intended to make sure it never arrived.

The agent finally walked onto the plane in a crisp and neat uniform. Bolantine watched him and waited for him to sit down. The agent put his briefcase in the overhead compartment, sat down in the seat right next to Bolantine and promptly laid back in that seat.

Bolantine watched the agent who looked to be in his forties with slightly graying hair, pull his tray down and review a file that he had been carrying. The file on the tray was the one Bolantine had expected, outlining the base that he had long since taken over.

The plane took off normally and once it was off the ground Bolantine got up and walked to the bathroom. He went to an emergency box and bypassed the alarm sensor on it to open the box without interruption. Inside the box was the usual medical supplies and a large axe to be used for extricating passengers after a crash.

"Sometimes they make it so easy," Bolantine said, "Time to have some fun."

Bolantine hefted the axe and raised it in the air. He then ran down the aisle and buried the axe in the skull of the hapless agent, splitting his head in half. Luckily he never knew what hit him, unfortunately, the other thirty or so passengers were thrown into a panic.

Bolantine had anticipated this and prepared for it. He whacked at two men with the axe and then headed up front. He knocked out the stewardess and a male flight attendant before heading for the pilots. He used the axe to cut open the pilot's door.

"What are you doing?" the pilot screamed.

"Killing you," Bolantine said and buried the axe in the pilot's head.

"If you kill us who will fly the plane?" The copilot yelled.

"Not your problem," Bolantine said and coldly killed the copilot too.

The passengers were in an uproar now, and people were trying to get the crazy blonde man who had killed several people in just a few minutes. Bolantine himself was not worried about them, as he had no plans on leaving any of them alive. He simply destroyed the radio so that they wouldn't be able to contact anyone and took the controls before disengaging autopilot.

The plane did a quick flip, which threw all the unbelted passengers around the cabin. Bolantine was not a great pilot but knew how to handle a plane in the air. He then put it back on autopilot and went on a killing spree, quickly killing the beaten and battered passengers. Before long he was the only living person left in the aircraft.

"Ah to be a lunatic in the air," Bolantine said as he sipped champagne taken from the first-class cooler, "Now to hasten my reentry into the United States."

Bolantine programmed the autopilot to fly directly for Newfoundland, the closest inhabited part of the Americas from where he was. He knew the aircraft had enough fuel for the trip and didn't particularly care if anyone tried to shoot the plane down. He would have enough warning to jump and while hiking back to civilization would be unpleasant it would not kill him.

The immortal made a single trip down to the baggage area before he made one highly annoying discovery. The bag that contained his parachute had not made it onto the plane. He growled and searched some more, but it was not anywhere to be found.

"Great," Bolantine grumbled, "This means it will be a hard landing."

He wasn't worried so much about his personal safety as he was in getting to the United States without attracting too much attention. He wanted this plane to crash in the deep ocean somewhere southeast of Newfoundland where they would be unlikely to spend the money necessary to investigate the crash fully. The less anyone knew about how everyone on this plane died; the better it was for his cause.

"Ok," Bolantine said, "Change of plan. I wonder how controlled a crash I can make with this damned thing."

Bolantine had plenty of time to prepare and prepare he did. He moved bodies, he moved cushions, and got several rafts ready. He also worked on making the structure less sound. He wanted the superstructure to disintegrate when it hit, sending the bodies down to the bottom of the ocean.

Bolantine saw several military jets, both American and Russian, during the trip. The GPS showed that they were getting closer to his target zone so he started getting ready for his final departure from the aircraft. His plan was to go out of the aircraft as it went low and try to avoid hitting anything harder than water.

Bolantine programmed the autopilot computer to perform a maneuver that would bring him to within 30 feet of the water and slow to just above a stall. He set it to perform said maneuver in five minutes to give him enough time to get ready.

The crazy immortal wrapped himself up in two deflated rafts and hoped that at least one of them would inflate properly while he was unconscious from hitting the water. He attached the inflation strings to heavy weights that would sink faster than he, and the rafts would. His hope was that they would inflate when he hit the water and keep him afloat.

Soon, the plane pulled its final maneuver and the chase jets were forced to fly past, leaving the jet alone. Bolantine held his breath, jumped out and quickly curled in the fetal position. He hit the water hard and lost consciousness as he expected.

The weights sank and pulled the inflation cords, triggering the rafts to fully inflate and keep the unconscious immortal on top of the water. It took less than an hour for Bolantine to recover enough to figure out that he had made it.

"Ok," Bolantine said, "Now how far am I from civilization?"

Bolantine checked a GPS unit and found that he was two miles from shore. He grabbed a paddle out of the pack and started heading in that direction. If anyone had been out on that cold day they would have been surprised to see someone paddling in from the sub-freezing water, but the beach was completely empty as Bolantine made it up on to dry land.

Luck was with the immortal as he had managed to wash up on the beach a mere six miles away from the outskirts of St. John, Newfoundland. Bolantine walked away from the carnage he had caused and knew that he had just caused what was likely going to be one of the great aviation mysteries of all time. He just hoped it kept the investigators off his back until they could eliminate Kabalin.

"Two weeks," Bolantine said, "Then maybe we will have some breathing room."

He walked down the road and wondered how Nikki was doing in the desert.

Chapter 21 – The Body Factory

Nikki Bolantine walked around the Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix waiting for the freshly landed jet to make its way to the terminal. She hoped that Mishkin had managed to keep his cool and made it through the checkpoints in Los Angeles without a problem.

Her fears were allayed when a very weary Larion Mishkin walked through the gate and saw Nikki. He was tired, but even the post 9/11 security was a joke for him. The identity package that Bolantine had put together for him had held easily.

"Welcome to the United States," Nikki said with a smile, "Let's get out of here."

Mishkin merely nodded as he was very tired. He took his carryon behind him and followed the small woman out of the airport. Nikki opened the trunk on the late model Lincoln she had rented the day before and motioned for Mishkin to put his stuff in there.

"Nice car," Mishkin said.

"Only slightly more expensive to rent than a small one," Nikki said, "We're driving into the desert so I figured we should be comfortable for a little bit."

Nikki took the wheel as she was more alert and much more attuned to American driving standards than Mishkin was. Mishkin had spent so much of his life on Russian military bases he didn't even know Russian traffic law, much less the more confusing American version.

"So this is America," Mishkin said, "A lot of people and gaudy things."

"This is an average city," Nikki grinned, "You should see Los Angeles."

"I don't believe I'll be here long enough," Mishkin sighed, "Unless Bolantine failed to remove the agent."

"The agent is dead," Nikki said, "The plane mysteriously went off course and stopped responding to radio calls. It finally ran out of fuel and crashed in the ocean deeps somewhere southeast of Newfoundland."

"And Bolantine?" Mishkin asked.

"He swam up on the beach just off St. John, Newfoundland," Nikki said, "His stuff was waiting for him at a warehouse in the city, as he set up before he left. He'll likely get here tomorrow."

"How many bodies are we going to put through the process?" Mishkin asked, "And where are we going to get them?"

"They have already been procured," Nikki said, "They are mostly dead radical extremists and probably some other American corpses they have come up with."

"How many?" Mishkin asked.

"200 bodies," Nikki said without a pause, "We're shooting for 100 properly reanimated and controlled."

"I hope this facility you chose is secure," Mishkin said, "We get caught doing this..."

"I know," Nikki said, "I bought an old hanger in the Arizona desert with its own power supply. No one will be able to track us doing this. By the time anyone figures it out we'll be out the door and ready to take out Kabalin."

"When does Kabalin show up?" Mishkin asked.

"We have two weeks," Nikki said, "And a three-day window at that point. Given how the process usually works we have a week to prepare for reanimation, two or three days for the reanimation process and a maximum of six days for training or control."

"That gives us a thin margin on the attack," Mishkin said, "Some of these bodies will be getting ready to pop by that point."

"We can use that as a weapon," Nikki said, "The first wave will be the longest reanimated bodies. While they're trying to figure out what has happened with them the larger set will go in and finish the job."

"Just so long as Kabalin dies," Mishkin said, "And I'd prefer to be out of the country when the attack starts."

"You will be," Nikki said, "As soon as reanimation is complete Bolantine and I will complete the training. You will be back in Russia before the attack."

Mishkin nodded and reclined in his seat. He didn't trust Nikki Bolantine as far as he could throw her, but he figured that he had no choice at this point. Even a good chance at Kabalin's death was worth the risk.

Nikki drove the two hours to the desert facility, still enjoying the hot weather after the frozen conditions at the Russian facility. Mishkin was sweating profusely as he had never in his life seen temperatures like the Arizona desert. They finally made it to the facility that Nikki's agent in Morocco had purchased for a song.

"This is it?" Mishkin asked, "It looks like an abandoned airbase."

"Miles from anywhere," Nikki nodded, "Perfect place for this project."

The two of them walked inside and they looked at the place. The requested tables had been set up, nearly one hundred of them. Four freezer trucks were set up and running consistently.

"I take it we have help coming?" Mishkin said.

"Nope," Nikki said, "Just Bolantine and he will be acquiring weapons and motorcycles. You and me get to work on the reanimation process."

"We'll never get it done that fast," Mishkin complained, "I can't carry dozens of bodies."

"So we'll reanimate a test set first and use them for free labor," Nikki shrugged, "We're supposed to have nearly two hundred intact corpses."

"Why do I think this is going to be a long week?" Mishkin sighed.

"Let's get to work," Nikki said, opening the first of the trucks, "Choose your labor."

Mishkin looked in at the army of the dead. He couldn't believe that Nikki had managed to put together this collection in such a short time. He shuddered slightly and put on the gloves before picking up the first cold body. He manhandled it down onto the table and tapped it a few times.

"How good is the condition?" Nikki asked.

"Good enough," Mishkin said, "Let's set up the lab and let a few of these guys thaw."

Nikki nodded and dragged another body down and laid it down on the table. She knew it would be a long and backbreaking week. She just hoped that no one stumbled out on their location before they departed. She'd hate to have to create more bodies before she needed them.

Chapter 22 – Sloane

"How long do you plan to hold me here?" Sloane Mullan asked her captors, "You know you won't survive this."

"I'd like to see him try to kill us," Mason chuckled, "He will have to succeed where many others have failed."

"I can't tell you where he is," Sloane said, "I don't know myself."

"You may not know his location," Mason said, "But you do know how to contact him. You will be our guest until we find him."

"I won't tell you," Sloane said.

"Yes you will," Mason told her, "While I don't like pressuring people I assure you that I am capable of it. If it means finding people you love and detaining them, believe me I will do it. I don't care if I have to kill half of Belfast to find your lunatic boyfriend, I will do so."

"What did he do to you?" Sloane asked him, "He didn't do anything but be a good businessman."

"He is responsible for thirty dead people in a London courtroom," Mason said, "Those two goons of his killed a lot of people."

"Which two goons?" Sloane asked, "Seamus hasn't left Northern Ireland in two years."

"His pals have," Mason said, "Maloney and MacDermott McCarty killed every living person in a London courtroom before going down themselves."

"Mal and Mac?" Sloane asked incredulously, "That incident at Old Bailey was in the papers. I remember Seamus being happy about it, but it couldn't have been Mal and Mac McCarty. They were killed in a shootout with the PSNI over a year ago. They couldn't have killed anyone in London last month?"

Mason wordlessly handed over a photograph of the pair taken from a security camera. It wasn't the best photograph they could have had, but it showed the two men who were reputed to be dead.

"That's impossible," Sloane said, "How?"

"That's what I intend to ask your boyfriend," Mason said, "But I need to find him first."

"He wouldn't," Slone said and then thought better of it, "Of course he would... But how can... I can't..."

"Contact him," Mason said, "Let us handle the rest."

"And you'll let me go?" Sloane said unbelieving, "I know too much..."

"We were never here," Mason said, "You can identify us all day long. No one will believe you."

"He will smell the setup," Sloane said.

"That is my problem," Mason said, "Make the contact."

Mason slid a phone over to the young woman. Jim had already set up his computer and was tapped in to the local phone system. He knew that once she made the call he could trace it and they could track down the next link in the chain.

"Dial the phone," Mason said, "If you think he can kill us and free you, make the call."

Sloane sighed and dialed the numbers. She knew that she was likely walking her boyfriend into a trap, but she knew that something was out of whack. If they were telling the truth about how Mal and Mac had been used then she had no feeling left for the man.

"Padraig?" Sloane asked, "It's me."

"Sloane!" Padraig O'Malley exclaimed, "We've been looking for ya!"

"I have a location," Jim mumbled.

"What did Seamus do to Mac and Mal?" Sloane asked him.

"Don't mention Seamus!" Padraig exclaimed, "Are you daft, girl?"

"No," Sloane said, "Tell him I need to see him. Soon."

"I would if I knew where to find him lassie," Padraig said, "I don't know where he is."

"Karen," Mason said quietly, "Stay with her. Jim and I will go get Padraig."

Karen nodded and watched as Jim and Mason went out the door. She knew that Sloane Mullan was having a rude awakening on a par that she never expected. She knew that Seamus McIrney had been involved in some shady deals, but nothing along the lines of what she was now finding out.

"I never wanted this life," Sloane said, "But Seamus... Oh Seamus, what have you gotten me into now?"

"We won't put you involved," Karen promised, "If Seamus surrenders he will be handed over to the PSNI."

"He won't surrender," Sloane said unhappily, "It's not in his nature."

"Then it depends on how lucky Mason is," Karen said, "And just how dumb Seamus is."

"Do me a favor?" Sloane asked, "Before you hand him over?"

"If we can," Karen said.

"Let me see him," Sloane said, "And see it in his eyes?"

"We'll see," Karen said, "Rest for a bit. We'll see how the night goes."

Sloane nodded and curled up on the couch in the furnished apartment. Karen sat there and watched the young woman and shook her head. Such a waste, Karen thought, the woman was obviously too intelligent to be hooked up with a thug like Seamus McIrney. She hoped this would break the bond between them for good.

Chapter 23 – McIrney's Mayhem

Mason drove the car while Jim continued tracing. Once he had found that the number belonged to Padraig O'Malley he was able to track the man through a couple networks and find out where he lived and who he was talking to next.

"Mason," Jim said, "O'Malley is McIrney's right hand man. He's just as wanted as McIrney is."

"Good," Mason said, "That son of a bitch should be able to tell us where McIrney is."

"Let's hope," Jim said, "He's making a call now."

"Listen in," Mason said, "If you can."

"They're using a new fiber system," Jim grinned, "I'm listening now. Easiest thing to hack since Windows 98."

"Put it on speaker," Mason said, "And track who he's calling."

Jim put the speaker on and continued working on the laptop. Mason listened intently to the phone call as he drove to the address that had popped up on the GPS. He knew that he did not have much time.

"Seamus," came O'Malley's voice through the speaker, "I just got a strange call from Sloane. Word is that she left with some shady characters yesterday."

"Think she is talking?" McIrney said, "Or was she under duress?"

"I don't know, Seamus," O'Malley said, "But we need to find her. She knows too much to talk."

They talked to each other for a few moments as Jim traced through the network and managed to get the address of where McIrney was calling from, however, it turned out that McIrney was on a cell phone. Jim smiled and reprogrammed the GPS to follow the phone signal.

"Glad he's dumb," Jim said, "A Cell signal is easier to find than a physical address nowadays. I've got his GPS locator locked into ours."

Mason nodded and followed the roadways. The drive was reasonably easy, and they found the location. It was an isolated house just outside the city. Mason pulled the car over and pulled out a set of thermal goggles to survey the area.

"Four inside," Mason said, "What do you think, Jim?"

"I think we should forget it and find the first whorehouse," Jim said with a wry grin, "But I know you and that won't fly. I'll go up the hill and scout. You do whatever the hell it is when you do in places like that."

"You have ten minutes," Mason said, "I'm going in and I want you scouting with the thermal goggles for when I go in."

"You got it, boss," Jim said, "Try not to kill them all before you find out where Bolantine is."

"I don't intend to kill anyone," Mason said, "They aren't worth it and I'll have to live with it."

Mason took his weapon out and put the silencer on. He hoped to do this without needing to kill anyone, but he was enough of a realist to know that it would be difficult to get them without firing a shot. He did a quick stretch and got ready for action.

"It's your friendly play by play announcer," Jim said through Mason's earpiece, "You have a fifth player, a small man working on a car in the garage. We missed him on the first pass."

"I'll start there," Mason said, "How far from the others?"

"Far enough that you can question him if you do it quietly," Jim said, "I'll tell you if the others start moving."

"Right," Mason said, "Going in."

Mason hopped over the fence and pulled his weapon. He quietly traversed the lawn and went into the garage. He was a bit surprised that the 'small man' was a young woman. He sighed and went over to the girl.

"I will shoot you if you scream," Mason said, "Turn around."

The girl dropped her wrench and turned around. She was pretty in a tomboyish way, but her charms were lost on Mason. Her hair dropped as she turned towards him and looked calm.

"I have no wish to die tonight," she said slowly with a Russian accent, "I only work for the slime ball."

"Who are you?" Mason asked her.

"Natalia," she said, "I am a driver for him."

"He wouldn't employ a woman for that," Mason said, "Not one as competent as you. Try again."

"I don't work for Seamus," she said, "I work for Interpol. He isn't the top dog."

"I expected more resistance before you gave that," Mason said, "How do you know I don't work for him?"

"He doesn't think enough of me to check," Natalia told him, "Not to mention you speak with an American accent. He hates the Americans more than he does the English. It was your American ex-president Clinton who brokered the accords that put him out of the IRA."

"I'm not a cop," Mason said, "I am here for answers."

"I won't stop you," Natalia said, "So long as you don't kill him I don't care what you do."

"I can't leave you here," Mason said.

"Don't worry about me," Natalia told him, "I will always turn up."

"Turn around," Mason said, "I'll try not to make it hurt."

She did so and Mason tapped her in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. She went down and he secured her. He didn't believe much of what she said, but he wasn't planning on letting her get behind him. He left her tied up in the garage, knowing that way she couldn't be blamed for anything he did.

"One down," Mason said to Jim, "Where are our friends?"

"Two in the downstairs," Jim said, "One sleeping upstairs with someone upright and pacing. My guess is the three upright are guards and our sleeping friend is McIrney.

"Wrong," Mason said, "McIrney is on the phone still, he'll be the son of a bitch pacing upstairs. The sleeper is an unknown."

"Good luck," Jim said, "I can't tell which way anyone is facing."

"That's fine," Mason said, "I'll make it work."

Mason circled around the building and found that the two armed men in the downstairs were not particularly observant. He pulled what looked like a soda can out of his pocket and was glad that no one ever noticed that it was a disguised flash grenade. He tapped the switch and rolled it into the house.

It went off and Mason quickly went into the house and knocked out the two men who had been blinded. He secured them with quick cuff straps and got out of sight. Once he was sure that no one else was moving he went up the stairs and blindsided McIrney, hitting him upside the head and securing him as well.

Mason then looked into the other room and saw another young woman sleeping in the bed. Mason secured the door so she couldn't leave easily and picked up McIrney's unconscious body as he tapped his receiver.

"I need a pickup," Mason said, "I have McIrney."

"I'll be down there before you will," Jim said, "Get a move on."

Mason went down through the garage and saw that Natalia had managed to get herself out. Mason cursed slightly but knew his best bet was to get out of there before she showed up again. He went down and waited for Jim to come to the gate.

"I can't let you take him," Natalia said as she stepped out behind him, "He's too important for my case."

"Mine too," Mason said, "And you're full of it, Natalia. You don't work for Interpol. An Interpol agent would have turned McIrney in to the British."

"Of course I don't," Natalia said, "I work for his employer. He would be rather upset if I let his best distraction get picked up."

"Of course," Mason said, nodding in realization, "You work for Bolantine. I should have guessed."

"You can't possibly know anything," Natalia said, "You are guessing."

"McIrney is too stupid to have ordered the hit by himself," Mason said, "I should have guessed that sooner. Bolantine used him as proof of concept."

"Then, you know why I need him," Natalia said, "Drop him and you can walk away."

"You calculated well," Mason said, "You knew when I took Sloane that she would give him up."

"That was obvious," Natalia said, "I knew someone was coming as soon as O'Malley called."

"That doesn't explain why you stayed," Mason said.

"To protect our investment," Natalia said.

"You forgot one thing," Mason said, "A rather important one."

"What's that?" Natalia asked.

"A good agent never works alone," Mason said, "Shoot her, Jim."

"Nice try," Natalia said, "Now drop him."

"Shoot her, Jim," Mason said, "Now."

Jim Entragian sighed and pulled the trigger three times, hitting Natalia in the back with only two of the shots. Mason dropped McIrney roughly and went to take Natalia's weapon. Jim went over as well, not looking happy about shooting the young woman.

"What the hell was that?" Jim asked, "How did that happen?"

"McIrney is Bolantine's proof of concept for the operation," Mason said, "I think Natalia was here to protect him."

"That's thin," Jim told him, "Do you think he actually knows anything?"

"I don't know, but Bolantine wouldn't send someone like her unless he thought McIrney was worth protecting," Mason said, "One thing is for sure, though. After this is done McIrney will talk."

"Why did you want me to shoot her?" Jim asked.

"She was dangerous," Mason said, "She had the same expression in her eyes Elise Steele did. You don't leave women like that alive, especially when you have just scorned them. We did humanity a favor, Jim."

"If you say so," Jim said, "Can we get out of here now?"

"Yes," Mason said, "Tell Karen we're coming. We'll use Sloane against him if we have to."

"I just hope he has information," Jim said, "This is going to put a dent in my love life."

"You'll forget about it," Mason said, "If nothing else remember Elise and imagine you shot her. You'll feel better about it."

"Right," Jim said.

Chapter 24 – The Death Farm

Bolantine walked in to the hangar and looked at the bodies lying around. He shook his head and walked around looking for anyone who was actually standing upright. Two men were lugging bodies around and laying them out on tables.

"Where is Nikki?" Bolantine asked.

The two men ignored him completely and continued with their task. Bolantine didn't like that, but knew that there was little he could do until he talked to Mishkin. He looked for the air-conditioned building and saw the generator running outside. He hiked over there and knocked on the door to be greeted by Nikki's smiling face.

"I see you finally made it, B," Nikki exclaimed, "Have fun in Newfoundland?"

"Not unless you consider hitting the water at 130 miles an hour fun," Bolantine said, "Idiots lost my luggage so I didn't have my chute."

"I take it Kabalin's agent is dead?" Mishkin said, "Along with many others?"

"Yep," Bolantine said, "Most fun I've had with an axe since Scarface Al was alive."

"I don't want to know," Mishkin said with distaste, "So long as the facility is safe."

"We have another problem," Bolantine said, "The test subject is in Ireland. I got a report from Natalia before she went off the grid. He showed up at McIrney's place."

"Shit," Nikki said, "McIrney may not know much, but he knows enough to send that asshole to Morocco."

"I already told Ronco to fold up shop," Bolantine told her, "He's picking up Natalia's body and heading out to the Russian base."

"Why are you sending that lunatic to my facility?" Mishkin asked.

"Because we still need him," Bolantine told the doctor, "He'll stay in that place until the test subject is off the trail and Kabalin is dead."

"Wait," Nikki said, doing a double take, "Natalia's body? What the hell happened?"

"Either the test subject or one of his minions killed her," Bolantine confirmed, "Too bad, girl was just like that pitbull of Pena's. I'm hoping we get her soon enough to make a useful reanimation from."

"Gotta be better than these idiots," Nikki said, "I may have to kick Ronco's ass for these corpses. Most of them are frozen through. We'll be lucky to get a hundred working reanimations from them."

"We'll work on her when we get back," Bolantine said, "How many do you think we'll need?"

"How many what?" Mishkin asked.

"Motorcycles," Bolantine said, "Do you think we'll get 100 useful soldiers out of this?"

"Yes," Nikki said, "I think so. Anywhere between fifty and a hundred bikes. We can double up if we have to."

"Double up?" Mishkin asked incredulously, "You're planning on using motorcycles?"

"More durable, easier to maneuver and if they get lucky they only take out one or two of our people," Bolantine said, "Get them ready and get them riding. We'll lead them there."

"You want to play again so soon?" Nikki leered.

"You aren't going to get all the fun," Bolantine grinned, "We need to have a party with the President's head. I think some bowling is in order, don't you?"

"So long as Kabalin is dead," Mishkin muttered, "Do what you have to do."

"Oh we will," Bolantine grinned, "I'll be back in a few days. I need to purchase some motorcycles."

"Be careful," Nikki said, "Don't attract attention."

"No more than you will," Bolantine said, "See you later."

Bolantine walked out the door leaving the doctor and the other immortal behind. Nikki went back to work and left Mishkin there wondering just what he had gotten in to.

Chapter 25 – The Link

"McIrney will wake up soon," Jim said, "Can't say the same for the chickie back at his place."

"She was too dangerous to leave behind," Mason reminded him, "And probably wouldn't have talked had we brought her with us."

"I'm not arguing," Jim said, "She was bad news anyway."

"Natalia?" Sloane asked, "She was there?"

"You know her?" Mason asked the woman.

"Bad news doesn't even begin," Sloane said, "I didn't like her much when she showed up earlier this week with the weapons. She even scared Seamus and that man doesn't scare easy. I think she's killed more people than Seamus' organization."

"He's waking up," Karen said, "You want to handle it or should I?"

"I'll do it," Mason said, "He's more likely going to listen to me."

"He respects strength," Sloane said, "And he's a physical coward."

"Why am I not surprised by this?" Jim asked.

"Because you're learning," Mason said, "Ok, let's question him and get out of this damned place."

Mason grabbed a drink and walked into the room where Seamus McIrney was expertly tied to a chair. He was struggling a little against the ropes, but was in no position to even begin an escape. Mason smiled and sat down in a chair that was just outside his reach.

"Hello Seamus," Mason said, dropping the accent and allowing his American to shine through, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"I ain't telling you nothing," Seamus said.

"Sure you will," Mason said, "I can guarantee that you will, Seamus. I know some, but you will tell us more."

"What makes you think that?" he asked the immortal.

"Because I will make your last hours extremely painful if you don't," Mason said calmly, "Bolantine isn't worth it."

"I don't know that name," Seamus told him.

"That doesn't surprise me," Mason said, "Let's start with two names you do know. Maloney and MacDermott McCarty. You do know them, do you not?"

"They're dead," Seamus said, "Blasted PSNI got 'em."

"The first time, Seamus," Mason said, "You were angry about that, you had their remains taken from the Morgue."

"I had to tweak them somehow," Seamus shrugged, seeing no sense in denying that.

"You passed them on to someone else," Mason said, "I want to know who."

"I can't tell you that," Seamus said, "What they'll do to me..."

"Is nothing compared to what I can do," Mason lied, "Besides, you don't have to worry about Natalia. She's dead."

"Did you put a stake through her heart?" Seamus spat, "Not that I think the girl had one."

"Who did she work for?" Mason asked, "It sure as hell wasn't you."

"I'm not saying a thing," Seamus said, "If she's dead then you soon will be."

"You will be first if you don't tell me," Mason lied, "You see, I am not a cop, Seamus. I am barely even human. I consider you an insect. If I have to put some physical pressure on you, I will likely enjoy it. Anyone who can give over the bodies of his best friends to a madman like that to use in a scheme as dastardly as Old Bailey... Well, you're scum, McIrney."

"They deserved it," Seamus exclaimed, "They were the scum. Mal and Mac died because of them, it was fitting that they got the chance to kill them."

"Who did you hand their bodies over to?" Mason asked him, "I don't give a damn about your business here, Seamus. I care about who is reanimating dead lunatics."

"I can't tell you that!" Seamus yelled, "I still have people out there..."

"Tell him, Seamus," Sloane Mullan said as she walked into the room, "This is bigger than us, you idiot."

"Sloane!" Seamus said, "You are with them?"

"They captured me too," Sloane said, "But they showed me more kindness than you ever have. That girl can't be but fifteen, Seamus!"

"Sloane Darlin'," Seamus said, "I can't be with none but you."

"Then tell him," Sloane said, "Tell him and they'll let us go. They don't want you, Seamus. They want the crazy bastard who did that in London."

"Ronco," Seamus sighed, "Natalia was his girl."

"Who is Ronco?" Mason asked, "How did you meet him?"

Seamus spent the next hour and a half-explaining who Ronco was and how they had met through the terrorist networks in Morocco. Ronco himself was an arms dealer who had switched over to tissue smuggling. Human tissues were more valuable than gold in certain markets and Mason knew he had found his link to Bolantine.

"Ronco is our link," Mason said, "We need to talk to Claire."

"What do we do with them?" Jim asked.

"Let Sloane free," Mason said, "We'll dump McIrney on the doorstep of the nearest PSNI official. They'll take him in and make sure the bastard stays out of business."

"I don't understand all this," Sloane said, "But thank you for sparing us."

"I never intended to kill anyone here," Mason said, "I just needed the next link to the chain that leads to Bolantine."

"I don't know what this is about," Sloane said, "But I'll take it."

"It's better that way," Karen said, "I'll get the flight plan filed, you and Jim deep six our friend with the PSNI."

"Set up a meet," Mason instructed, "We have a lead, let's just hope it's a good one."

Chapter 26 – A Choice

"I tell you," Claire said when she finished watching the tape of McIrney's interrogation, "I'd hate to play chess with you, Stone."

"I don't play chess. I hate losing," Mason told her, "Do you know anything about this guy Ronco?"

"Ronco is Ronald Coleridge," Claire said, sliding a file over to Mason, "A real piece of work. He is an Australian who has been thrown out of two branches of their army and three police forces. Fell into the arms trade and did lousy at that too. He's moved into tissue sales, just like McIrney said."

"War zones like Northern Ireland," Mason said, "Guy is a real ghoul. Son of a bitch looks like he would be a perfect find for someone like Bolantine."

"He left town really quick too," Claire said, "Interpol was keeping an eye on him, but he left Morocco in a hurry. He made a quick trip to Belfast yesterday and disappeared there."

"Natalia," Karen said, "I bet he was the one who employed that bitch."

"She was Bolantine's," Mason said, "They were using McIrney as a reference for other buyers."

"Her body disappeared from the Morgue hours after we left," Jim said, "I was hoping to pull a proper ID on her."

"Does he have ties to anywhere else?" Mason asked Claire, "He is our next link."

"Interpol thinks his disappearance was funded by a large buy we got wind of," Claire said, "The Brits think he made the deal and decided to get lost for a while."

"What sort of deal?" Mason asked her.

"Bodies," Claire said, "Whole ones. He usually deals in parts, but he did a lot of connecting in the US, got lots of bodies from there in various states of condition. No one knows why, but he had to get paid a lot for it."

"Bolantine," Mason said, "It has to be. Why is the obvious question."

"Old Bailey on a grand scale?" Karen postulated, "Depends on how good their technology is."

"I'm just surprised he's operating in the states," Jim said, "Bolantine knows better than that."

"He may not have a choice," Mason said, "Look at the TV."

On the television that had been muted behind them was a newscast showing information on an impending trip that the Russian President Kabalin was making to the United States. Kabalin was smiling and waving to the crowd.

"If I'm right about Bolantine operating in Russia," Mason said, "Then Kabalin is the type of President he'd love to get rid of."

"And risk another Cold War?" Claire said, "Why would he want to do that?"

"Probably how he got backing," Mason said, "Someone had to finance his Ronco deal."

"That leaves us with a choice," Claire said, "Who do we go after? Ronco or the bodies?"

"Both," Mason said, "Have the British managed to track the bodies or Ronco?"

"No," Claire said, "But it's a low priority for them."

"Claim that Ronco may be funding terrorism," Mason said, "Don't mention Bolantine by name, but drop a few hints about his organization. We need to know where those bodies are."

"What about Ronco himself?" Karen asked, "Don't we want to talk to him?"

"We do," Mason said, "Where are his ties, Claire?"

"We think he was heading to Russia," Claire said, "That is where Natalia was from and many of his other associates are from there too."

"Can you come up with a legitimate reason to go there?" Mason asked Claire.

"Sure," Claire said, "Especially if we think Ronco is involved with Old Bailey."

"Karen and I will go to Morocco and track the bodies," Mason said, "Claire, you take Jim with you and work the Russian angle."

"Why do I need to go with her?" Jim asked, "I don't speak a lick of Russian!"

"You can do things she can't," Mason said, "Not to mention you can hack a computer network better than anyone. While she is working officially, you can crack into the Kremlin's computer system and find any information they have under wraps about Ronco."

"What good will it do me?" Jim asked, "I can't read any of it!"

"I can," Claire said, "You're thinking that we might find Bolantine's hideout."

"His research facility," Mason said, "While I'm hoping Karen and I can figure out where his next attack is coming from."

"I think we need sleep," Claire said, "Let's sleep on this tonight and maybe the British will get a lock on Ronco. They now have McIrney and likely know about his involvement with Old Bailey."

"I'm all for sleep," Mason said, "I don't think I've slept in thirty-six hours."

"I think this is adjourned," Jim grinned, "Night guys."

Chapter 27 – On The Move

Karen Stone sat up in the bed and looked at Mason. She still could not understand how the man she had been with for years could sleep so little. She hadn't known him to sleep for more than a four-hour stretch in nearly a decade.

"You look intent on something," Karen said to her mate, "What's up, Mase?"

"Ronco was detected leaving the UK," Mason said, "He narrowly escaped on a flight to Moscow. Claire got her approval to go to Russia."

"Jim going with her still?" Karen asked him.

"Yes," Mason said, "They left twenty minutes ago. I'm finalizing our travel plans now so we'll be out the door soon too."

"Great," Karen said, "Another airplane?"

"Yep," Mason said, not looking up, "The Americans aren't putting any effort on where Ronco's bodies have gone, so you and I will work on that."

"I'm amazed Claire got approval for Russia," Karen said, starting to get dressed, "She's got to be pushing her bosses."

"Her bosses want the guys who did Old Bailey so they can't do it again in the states," Mason said, "But they don't have the information that we do. They think his tissue business is nothing but a lucrative sideline."

"You think it is Bolantine related," Karen said, "You think he is up to something."

"Too much activity," Mason said, "Jim cracked one of Ronco's books before he left. He's been recklessly putting money all over the place buying American bodies. There has to be a reason for it and that reason would have to be Bolantine."

"Ghoulish," Karen sighed, "So we're off to Morocco?"

"New York City," Mason said as he shook his head, "We're going to lean on Ronco's American contacts that got paid from that account Jim cracked. The Americans can't follow up on this information legally, so we'll have to do so."

"Sounds like a plan," Karen sighed, "Another bloody transatlantic flight."

"They can't all be hijacked," Mason told her, "Get moving, hon. We need to be at the airport in an hour."

"Right," Karen said, "Where are we heading in New York?"

"A cold storage unit," Mason said, "I think that's likely where the bodies came from."

"When do we stop flying?" Karen asked him.

"We'll take the van from there," Mason said, "It'll be easier than generating another set of identification. I can also smoke during the drive."

"Great," Karen said, "When this operation is over you owe me a long vacation, Mase."

"I know it," Mason said, "Six months in Aruba sound good to you?"

"Make it a year," Karen smiled, "Now let's go before I remember that I'm still jet lagged from the last round."

Chapter 28 – Recon and Plan Preparation

Bolantine was an old hand at negotiation and at laundering money. The world had changed a bit since he was really active, but not enough that he could not figure out how to get his Iranian cash into the US. With electronic banking and enough countries willing to pass cash anonymously for a small portion he could launder it very well.

The harder part was using that cash in a way that wouldn't cause too many red flags. He had to make sure that no one would be able to see what was going on in the preparation facility in the desert, yet he still had to get equipment there in a reasonable time.

Buying 100 identical motorcycles often caught people's notice, so Bolantine bought them from several locations and had them shipped to a warehouse in Phoenix. He stayed there for two days and loaded them all onto several trucks he had parked inside the warehouse.

He knew that the key to making this operation work would be keeping it secret and the best way to do that would be to eliminate the living people involved other than Nikki, himself and Mishkin. Since he was buying only small amounts of motorcycles and had not bought any weapons as of yet, he knew that his operation was still safe.

The next place that Bolantine had to go was to the ranch where the two presidents were going to be spending their summit time. He knew he wouldn't be able to do much more than a quick recon, but that was all he was looking for. The current president, Alex Creighton, was from the southwestern portion of Colorado and kept a ranch at the foot of the mountains.

Bolantine knew how to look innocuous and disguised himself as a traveling student. He spent two days driving a motorcycle through the area and photographing the security setup and the general area. He also paid for a satellite scan on the whole southern end of the state which was done in a matter of hours.

He was done with his reconnaissance a lot quicker than he expected and started his weapon purchases. He purchased small amounts from small gun dealers along the route between the abandoned airport where Nikki and Mishkin were working and the Presidential ranch.

He didn't buy the same weapons twice, as he knew this would raise alarms. He also bought them under different names, using up a supply of identification paperwork that he'd spent considerable time building up. It was worth it, however, as he had within forty hours picked up enough weapons to arm the whole crew.

It had been a long few days when he pulled the truck with the weapons in to the hangar. Nikki was sitting outside with a cold drink as he pulled up. She looked just as tired as he felt and barely perked up when she saw him drive up.

"Tired?" Bolantine asked her.

"Long week," Nikki said, "Reanimations are going well, but they are getting rambunctious. How much longer?"

"Three days," Bolantine said, "Kabalin is in the air, will land in Denver in 14 hours. They are going to see a few sites in Denver and stay the night at a posh hotel before they head to the President's ranch. Our attack will be at night."

"Weapons?" Nikki asked him.

"In the truck," Bolantine said, "Along with a motorcycle. There are three trucks worth of Motorcycles in Phoenix. You ride along with me on this trip and drive one truck back here, I'll go back and get the other one after that."

"You'll have to make the three trips," Nikki said, "I need to keep an eye on Mishkin. He's scared out of his mind already and getting paranoid."

"Do you still need him here?" Bolantine asked her, "If he's flaking out get him out of here."

"I don't dare do it until we're on the road," Nikki said, "That way if he cracks at an airport he can't stop the operation."

"Mishkin knows too much," Bolantine reminded her, "We can't afford him to crack."

"I've set up a private plane," Nikki said, "It will pick him up in Phoenix and bring him to Juneau. He'll catch a short flight to Vladivostok from there."

"I wish I could send you with him," Bolantine sighed, "But I need you to help with the operation."

"He will hold up if no one challenges him," Nikki said, "And no one will challenge him if he gets out of dodge before the attack."

"Is the reanimation operation done?" Bolantine asked.

"Yes," Nikki said, "We've been pushing the training and repetition."

"You and I can do that," Bolantine said, "Get him out of here tomorrow morning. Let him know that we'll handle the rest of it."

"Ok," Nikki said, "This is either going to go well or it is a complete cluster fuck."

"Probably both," Bolantine agreed as he pulled the motorcycle out of the truck, "I'll be back in a few hours."

Nikki nodded and went inside to check on Mishkin, finding the Doctor resting as he fiddled with an electronic device designed to keep control of the reanimated people. The ninety or so people had congregated into groups and were showing a few signs of life. Luckily none of them were in any condition to argue with what they were doing.

"How are they?" Nikki asked him, "Are we going to get any more running?"

"Ninety-seven running and ready," Mishkin said, "The helpers are running hot, probably are going to explode soon. I had them move to another building so that the operational group wouldn't see it."

"Good," Nikki said, "Think they'll do?"

"I don't know," Mishkin said, "Was that Bolantine outside?"

"Yes," Nikki said, "He just dropped off the weapons and is heading out to get the motorcycles. He'll be in and out over the next twelve to eighteen hours."

"I don't know how you are going to handle this," Mishkin said, "I'm probably going to have to..."

"You're leaving tonight," Nikki said, cutting off that thought, "I'll handle the rest of it. I have a private plane set to bring you to Juneau, and you'll take a flight to Russia from there. I want you out of US Jurisdiction before this attack starts."

"Tonight?" Mishkin said, "Why so quick?"

"Kabalin arrives tomorrow," Nikki said, "Plan is moving quickly and Bolantine wants you back at the base before the attack hits. We'll likely be retreating quickly too and don't want you in the way."

"Not a problem," Mishkin said, "I don't want to be here anymore anyway."

Nikki breathed a sigh of relief. She just hoped that Mishkin didn't become too much of a liability. She'd hate to have to kill him off because he was a brilliant, if a bit naïve, scientist. She didn't let herself worry about that for the moment, as she had enough work to do.

Chapter 29 – Cold Storage

Mason Stone walked in to the cold storage facility ready to tear a few people apart. He was not in a particularly good mood and had the feeling that he was running out of time to figure out what Bolantine was up to. Karen walked behind him knowing that this would not be a pleasant meeting.

The receptionist smiled pleasantly as she greeted Mason who was not smiling in the slightest. Karen was slightly worried, but knew when to let Mason do his thing. Mason slammed his hand down on the counter and let his hard blue eyes drive the girl into wilting.

"I'm looking for the scumbag in charge here," Mason said, "The one who has been selling bodies to a known terrorist supplier."

There were a few people in the room who all looked up at that one. Mason knew he didn't have much time and was going to play his trump card for all it was worth. Karen looked around and smiled pleasantly, but stayed silent and kept a hand on the pistol in her pocket.

"I'm sure you..." she started.

"I'm sure you don't know how pissed I am," Mason said, "Someone has been selling bodies to a scum named Ronco. I want him or her."

"Um, uh... Perhaps... I... Uh..." she stammered, "I can get my boss..."

"I'll get him," Mason said, "Karen, disable the phones, please."

Mason went in the back and kicked open one of the doors. Karen took out a pair of scissors and cut all the phone cables on the receptionist's desk. The jamming device in her pocket made all the cell phones in the building just as useless as the phone on her desk.

"Just stay put," Karen suggested to the girl, "If you had nothing to do with this, you have nothing to fear."

Mason walked into an office and found the cowering boss hiding behind a desk. The angered immortal pulled the boss and dragged him over to a chair. He had the man where he wanted him as scared men were much more likely to tell the truth.

"What is the meaning of this?" the boss asked, "What right do..."

"What right do you have to sell innocent people's bodies?" Mason asked him, "I want information, pal. I know you sold them to Ronco. I want to know where you sent them."

"Wait a minute," he stammered, "You can't possibly..."

"Know that you stole dozens of bodies and were paid three hundred dollars per by Ronco?" Mason asked him, "I do know. Now start talking."

Mason presented a menacing visage to the man in the room cowering before him. He hadn't even pulled out his gun yet, though Mason had every intention of doing so if he didn't get the information he sought.

"You've got it all wrong," he said, "I didn't..."

"Yes you did," Mason said, "You going to tell me that the thousands of dollars just materialized in your account Ehrlich?"

"Oh my God," Ehrlich said, "How did you find that out?"

"I cracked Ronco's books," Mason said and pulled out a cigarette, "And I'm going to crack your skull unless you tell me where the bodies went."

"I don't know," Ehrlich swore, "I just passed them off..."

"You wouldn't have gotten into this without more than that," Mason said, "Where did the bodies go?"

"I don't know!" Ehrlich screamed, "I didn't care!"

That statement pissed Mason off even more. He lit his cigarette and dragged Ehrlich, kicking and screaming, down to the cold storage unit behind the facility. He opened up a drawer and pulled out a body for Ehrlich to see and look at.

"This is what you did," Mason said, "People who didn't have a choice. Are they slabs of meat to you, Ehrlich? Are you that unfeeling?"

Mason held the man close to the corpse and let the anger flow. He let Ehrlich stare at the corpse for a few moments before he spoke again.

"Now," Mason said, "You have a choice... You can tell me where the bodies went or you can join this young man here."

"Arizona," Ehrlich relented, "I heard them talking about an airbase in Arizona. I don't know any more than that."

"Who?" Mason asked him, "If not you, then who?"

"Ari Svirnessin," Ehrlich said miserably, "He made the collections and delivered instructions from Ronco. Ronco didn't set foot in this facility. The one time I met him was in Boston."

"How do you know he brought them to Arizona?" Mason asked him.

"He liked to talk about it," Ehrlich sighed, "He said he'd delivered a few dozen bodies out there."

"Where is he?" Mason asked, "When is he due here?"

"He's due this afternoon," Ehrlich said, "I had two bodies for him."

"It's two o'clock now," Mason said, "How about we wait for him."

"I just want nothing more to do with this," Ehrlich said, "You do what you want to Ari. I don't care."

"I think you're right," Mason said and shoved Ehrlich on the drawer with the other body, "Why don't you stay with this guy and think about what you've done."

Mason shoved the drawer closed, mashing Ehrlich's foot in the process. He then locked the drawer and sat down in a chair in the cold room for a few minutes as he finished his cigarette. He was nearly done as he tossed the cigarette in the corner and walked out to the front room where Karen was still watching over the people in the facility.

"Ari Svirnessin," Mason said, "Should be here shortly."

"That's him," the girl said, pointing to a guy in the waiting room, "Do what you will, but get out of here!"

Ari looked up and started to run, but Mason was faster. He tripped Ari and pushed the rather average looking ghoul to the wall, using his body weight to hold him there and cause a bit of pain.

"So you're Ronco's Ghoul?" Mason said, "Where in Arizona are you bringing them?"

"I can't..." Ari started and got his head knocked against the wall for the effort, "Owww....

"Don't screw with me, kid!" Mason said, "Where!"

"An abandoned airfield in Tusayan, AZ!" Ari screamed, "Don't know the name, just that it's two miles off highway 180, about eleven miles outside of town."

"What did you do with the bodies there?" Mason asked.

"Left the freezer truck running and took the car that was left for me," Ari said, "I've made four runs this month. Someone else from Ronco kept the trucks running. I don't know who; I never saw them."

"Mason," Karen said, "We need to leave. Did you set something on fire?"

"No," Mason said, "Just smoked a cigarette."

"Back there?" the girl at the desk said, horrified, "They store chemicals back there to embalm..."

Before she could finish a small explosion rocked the building and Mason knew he made a mistake with the cigarette. He cursed and pulled himself up just as the second, much larger, explosion happened. Karen was thrown by this one, as was the girl. Luckily it was Karen who went through the window first, taking the brunt of the damage.

"This is your lucky day," Mason said, "Now enjoy what you wrought!"

Mason walked out of the building just as the next explosion started the place on its final flaming end. Mason knew that he'd made a mistake, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about the place going up in flames. Karen growled and picked a couple shards of glass out of herself.

"You have got to quit smoking before you kill anyone else," Karen said, a look of exasperation on her face, "That poor girl is badly injured and there are probably several dead people in there, Mason."

"A whole cold room full of them," Mason said dryly.

"Yes," Karen said, "And several who are now going to join them just for you to have that damned cancer stick."

Mason thought about that for a minute and didn't like it. He sighed and knew that Karen was right, that he really did need to give up his old filthy habit. He walked over and helped Karen up, and the two of them walked away from the massive fire that Mason had started. Mason started driving out of town and set himself on a course southeast.

"I'm going to sleep," Karen said, "Think about the pain you've caused with those cigarettes, Mason."

Mason did just that as he drove. He knew it was time to quit, but it was one link to his old life that he didn't want to toss. It was about the only thing he remembered truly enjoying about life before he became immortal other than his work.

"She's right," Mason said to himself, "I survived Africa for a year without them... I can survive Bolantine."

Mason took the remains of the pack out of his pocket and looked at them for a moment. Part of him wanted to light one up. The rest of him didn't want anything to do with them. He finally got the courage to crush the pack in his powerful fingers and toss them out the window. He just wondered how long he'd manage to stay off them.

Chapter 30 – Moscow

"I see you made it through customs," Claire said as she sat down in the chair in Jim's room, "You are better on your own than your friends realize."

"I don't speak the languages well," Jim said, "But I can get through customs as well as anyone. I don't look smart enough to be a crook."

"Good thing you aren't," Claire said, "Unfortunately the trip appears to be a bust. Ronco paid off enough people to let him disappear. Mason's methods might be able to track him, but mine aren't. Last trace of him was at Sheremetyevo international airport."

"You aren't tracking him the right way," Jim said, "What did he have with him?"

"Probably a couple suitcases," Claire said, "I don't know. Is it important?"

"You don't know anything about international travel," Jim said, "Do you?"

"Only several dozen international flights worth," Claire said, getting a bit perturbed, "What do you mean?"

"We make that many trips a year," Jim said, "Without the benefit of a diplomatic passport, I might add. Everyone tries to track the people. That's futile. There are too many of them and they won't accept the draconian measures it will take to track them."

"So enlighten me, old immortal one," Claire said, "How do we track him?"

"I'm not old, Mason and Karen are," Jim said, "My mental age is probably younger than you since I don't remember a damn thing from before I became immortal."

"How did that happen?" Claire wondered, going off on a tangent, "Mason and Karen seem to have retained their memory."

"Karen blew my head off with a twelve gauge shotgun," Jim said nonchalantly, "Wiping out any trace of my former identity with it. It was a good thing too."

"Why's that?" Claire asked him, intrigued, "You don't miss yourself?"

"From all accounts I was a real asshole," Jim grinned, "I was the one who created the damned serum that did this to us. I can't miss someone I don't remember. I like me the way I am now, and since the way I am now is very different than the way I was. I don't like to think about him too much."

"Good point," Claire agreed, "Now how do you intend to track that son of a bitch?"

"What did he bring with him?" Jim asked her, "Think like a tracker, not like a government flunky."

"Money?" Claire wondered.

"Money is easy to move," Jim said, "Anyone reasonably competent can move money across borders without getting caught. We've been doing it for years. We routinely rip off drug dealers and put their money to better use. Try again."

Claire thought about this for a few minutes. Jim knew he could tell her, but he wanted to teach her a bit on how to track international fugitives. She pulled back her hair and looked at Jim for a few minutes until the answer struck her. Ronco had gone to Belfast for a reason and it hadn't been for Seamus McIrney.

"The body," Claire said finally, "You told me that the girl's body was stolen from the morgue."

"He wanted that body for a reason," Jim said, "They don't track people as tightly because they won't stand for it, but they do track all cargo that rides on passenger aircraft. They have to because of the terrorism threats."

"I get it," Claire said, "So we track the body; we track Ronco."

"You are only as anonymous as your possessions," Jim told her, "Let me set up and get an Internet connection."

Jim pulled out his laptop and set up a mini satellite receiver. He loved this setup. It let him connect from anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere and avoid most government censorship. He set it up and connected to the network reasonably quickly. Ever the paranoid, Jim set up a dozen tests of encryption and set up a few roundabout connections to make him difficult to track.

"My God," Claire said, "The CIA isn't that paranoid."

"The CIA has less to lose," Jim said, "Now let me get into the Irish cargo tracking system. The Brits are just as fanatical as we are, so that's where the tracking will start."

"You think nothing can get lost?" Claire asked.

"Sure it can," Jim said, "But only an idiot relies on the system to lose it, they know the ways to intentionally slip it through the cracks."

Jim pulled gigabytes worth of tracking logs over the networks as he wrote some sophisticated search algorithms to weed through them in ways that Claire couldn't believe were possible. She just sat back and watched the master hacker at work.

"How the hell did you learn all this?" Claire asked him, "I know people with thirty years of experience who couldn't do what you do with that computer."

"I learned most of my techniques from a cybercriminal that Mason used back around the turn of the century," Jim said, "Kosmo was a good guy, loved poking around where he shouldn't. He could steal millions from anyone and cover his tracks with ease. I spent nine months simply learning everything I could from the man and expanding upon it."

"He should be working for the government," Claire said, "If your skills are anything close to his he must be amazing."

"Was," Jim said, "Kosmo died in 2001. His office was in the north tower of the World Trade Center. He died in the flames just like I would have had I been able to burn."

"I'm sorry," Claire sighed, "Everyone looks at immortality as a thing to strive for. It must be hellish."

"I deserve it," Jim said as he continued to type, "I did it to myself. Now, I just have to do what I can to make sure no one else makes the same mistake."

"So what have you found?" Claire asked, changing the subject, "Anything?"

"Our body was transported from Belfast to Berlin," Jim said, "They tried to lose it in the system there, but it was scanned in under the same number on a transport to St. Petersburg. From there it came to Moscow by train and was transferred to a civil air base. That's where we lose it."

"Why?" Claire asked, "So this is a dead end too?"

"No," Jim said, "It left the civil system and now is in the Russian Military system. Our friend Ronco has some serious grease going on."

"Can you track it?" Claire asked hesitantly.

"Only if you read Russian," Jim said, "I will have to go in the Russian systems and they only display in Cyrillic."

"I can read it if you tell me what you're looking for," Claire said.

Jim and Claire spent the next hour winding through the Russian military tracking system. It took three calculator programs and several attempts at translation before Jim was able to ferret out where their box was going."

"Why the hell was it shipped to a base in Siberia?" Jim asked, "I wonder if that's Bolantine's base."

"He can't be that good," Claire said, "That is still Russian Military."

"Ok," Jim said, "We need to break circuit for a while. Next time I'm going to have to break into the Kremlin. We need to know what that base is up to."

"Good luck," Claire said, "They are more guarded than the CIA."

"I'll get it done," Jim said, "But you need to check your official sources on what they think is at that base."

"I'll get the secure dispatch out," Claire sighed, "I don't know how you do it, but I'll take it."

"Let's just hope that Mason and Karen have more luck in the states," Jim said, "Because whatever is happening, the main event is not here. Too trackable. Bolantine wouldn't be letting Ronco go where he could be tracked like this."

"I'll see you in a few," Claire said, "Keep a low profile."

"I'll try," Jim grinned.

"And Mason told me to give you a message," Claire said, "Avoid the working girls until Bolantine is located."

"He knows me too well," Jim laughed, "Ok, I'll get some sleep."

"You deserve it," Claire smiled, "See you later."

Chapter 31 – Arming for Battle

"You look tired," Bolantine said when he walked in to the hangar, "Have you slept this week?"

"Nope," Nikki said, "But it's been worth it. One hundred and two walking around and taking orders."

"I have ninety-five bikes," Bolantine said, "But plenty of weapons. Any of them good enough to ride double?"

"I think so," Nikki nodded, "We have two cars too. I think we can send the first batch with the two cars right up the middle. I think there are enough explosives left to make it work."

"Their bodies should hold up," Bolantine agreed, "If nothing else it will cause confusion as they get out and start shooting."

"Did you check on Mishkin's plane?" Nikki asked, "I've been doing nothing but equipping these lunatics with the proper receivers."

"Mishkin left Anchorage just after I got into Phoenix last time," Bolantine said, "I think we need to rest a bit before the actual attack, Nikki. I nearly crashed the truck last time."

"We have fifteen hours before we need to get moving," Nikki said, "I personally plan to spend eight of them sleeping."

"Do I get to join you?" Bolantine grinned.

"Of course," Nikki said, "The helpers will stand guard, provided they don't explode."

"We'll lock them in the hangar before we leave," Bolantine said, "That way they don't explode on the trip. I don't want exploding corpses sabotaging the effort before it happens."

"One more day," Nikki said, "Then Kabalin and that American lapdog Creighton will be history."

"And we'll be wealthy enough to buck the remains of Kabalin's government," Bolantine grinned, "Let's finish up."

One of the "helpers" listened at the door. One of the freshest bodies, he still had a bit of his faculties remaining. He still felt the compulsion to do his bidding, but he remembered the conversation. He just hoped that he would be around long enough to make it worth something.

Chapter 32 – Mishkin's Homecoming

Larion Mishkin wrapped a scarf around his neck as he prepared to step off the transport plane he had ridden in from Vladivostok. He hadn't heard any news yet, but he really didn't expect any either. He stepped off the plane and saw his very nervous second in command sitting in a Gaz Sobol.

"I didn't expect to see you here?" Mishkin said, "I figured you'd send one of the privates."

"The loud Australian is here," Zanzarin said, "The one who refers to himself as Ronco."

"I figured he'd be here soon," Mishkin said, "Bolantine had to close up shop in Morocco. He wanted Ronco here because this is a good place to lay low."

"Not right now," Zanzarin told him, "The replacement investigator got here yesterday."

"Replacement?" Mishkin said and then cursed in a distinctly Russian way, "Even after Bolantine killed the last one?"

"Sent him out two days later," Zanzarin said, "We couldn't do anything outright. He's been here since just after Ronco arrived."

"Has he seen Ronco?" Mishkin asked, "Has he seen any of the research."

"Not anything important," Zanzarin said, "But he's asking too many questions and you know how few of our people know what we are really up to. Most of them would revolt if they knew that Bolantine was the real power here."

"Bolantine is a convenient way of keeping our research going," Mishkin said testily, "He doesn't rule us."

"He must have some hold to drag you to America," Zanzarin said, "I'm with you, the research is worth it. We can deal with Bolantine when we figure out what his secret is."

"Exactly," Mishkin said, "Has the agent reported back yet?"

"No," Zanzarin said, "He saw no need to."

"Good," Mishkin told him, "I'll meet him tonight. You and I will kill him and add him to the pile."

"Another Russian killed," Zanzarin sighed, "Just for our research."

"Our research is Russia's only hope," Mishkin said, almost believing it himself, "It will give us an advantage that the west will never have... A never ending stream of immortal soldiers. The war will be bad, but it will bring world socialism to the forefront again."

"I was three when the wall fell," Zanzarin shrugged, "I don't much care, just so long as we get to keep working and eating."

"Let's get back to the base," Mishkin said, "I've had enough of this. I want to meet this Ronco bastard too."

Zanzarin nodded and put the car in to gear. It was a bumpy ten-minute drive, but they got to the base in one piece and Zanzarin handed the car over to a young sergeant who had been guarding the door. Mishkin walked in and was greeted by warmth for the first time that day.

"Where is everyone?" Mishkin asked, "I want to see Ronco."

"He's in the room next to Bolantine's," Zanzarin told him, "I've kept the Agent on the other side of the base. Who do you want to see first?"

"Ronco," Mishkin said, "I may need to use his talent for killing people."

"Very well," Zanzarin said, "I'll go stall the agent some more. He's been pushing to meet you. I didn't tell him you weren't here, merely that you were busy."

"Good plan," Mishkin said, "Make sure that he doesn't contact anyone outside the base."

"Thank you," Zanzarin said.

Mishkin walked down the corridor and listened to the buzz of people working in the labs. This base, being in Siberia, was constructed mostly underground. It made for better working conditions and made it far easier to heat. The summer was measured in mere days in this region, so they had little reason to be outside.

The quarters were originally designed for nuclear technicians who worked with the large ICBM missiles that were stored at this facility during the cold war. As large as his scientific contingent was it was still nothing close to what this place housed during the cold war. The nuclear missiles were long gone, dismantled by Putin's people after they were found to be too unreliable to be worth the expense of keeping.

Mishkin himself had the commandant's suite, but there were three others that had been unused. Too big to give to enlisted men or scientists they had been used for storage until Bolantine and Nikki moved into the facility. Most of the base still didn't know Bolantine as anything other than a test subject and only a few of them had any idea what Bolantine truly was. Fewer still had seen Nikki as anything other than a shadow.

Mishkin walked into the fourth suite, the one they had held in reserve and found Ronco sitting there with a bottle of Vodka in one hand and a Russian pornographic magazine in the other. He barely acknowledged his host's arrival. He clearly didn't think much of Bolantine's flunkie, which is what he considered Mishkin to be.

"Ay Mate," Ronco said in a slurring Australian drawl, "You Bolantine's man here?"

"I run this facility," Mishkin said, "Why are you here, Ronco?"

"Ronco needed a place to lay low, ey Mate?" Ronco shrugged, "It's a bit cold up 'ere but I found a way to keep me warm, eh?"

Ronco offered the Russian a swig of the bottle, but the thought of sharing a bottle with that man revolted Mishkin. Mishkin sighed and hoped that this Australian lunatic would be good for something.

"Anyway," Ronco said, "Morocco is a bit warm for me right now, So Bolantine told me to come here and that he'd set me up somewhere else in a few months."'

"I see," Mishkin said, "Well good. Since you're here you might as well make yourself useful."

"Hey mate," Ronco said, "I don't do no hard labor. I am a first rate scrounge and a gifted leader."

"I know about that stuff," Mishkin said, "You are also a talented killer."

"When need be," Ronco said, "Who do you need snuffed?"

"A troublesome agent from Kabalin," Mishkin said, "I want him removed. Quietly."

"It'll be a pleasure," Ronco said and drained the bottle, "Especially if you can get me more of this."

"Remove this pain in my ass and I'll get you a case," Mishkin promised.

"Consider your arse pain free!" Ronco laughed, "I also got Natalia's body here... I don't know why, that guy in Belfast killed her and good. Her chest is mush."

"Her brain is still intact?" Mishkin asked.

"Ay," Ronco nodded, "Head too. Shame really, pretty girl. Probably a safer fuck now though."

"I'll look at her later," Mishkin said, hiding his revulsion again, "Get ready. I will bring him to you."

"I'll be sharpening me knife, mate," Ronco promised.

Mishkin shook his head and walked out of the room. He didn't know if this was a good idea, but it beat doing the job himself. He figured he could always arrange for Ronco to be a living test subject later on. He knew he wouldn't feel as bad about killing the Australian at any rate.

Chapter 33 – Kremlin Computers

Jim Entragian had spent 32 hours straight working on code breaking activities. His body was tired, but he had finally managed to get his in to the Kremlin computer network. He had gone through sixteen home machines in five different countries before getting a good line through a Kremlin worker's home machine.

"You still at it?" Claire asked as she put down a Russian caffeinated drink on the table for him, "You don't know the meaning of the word quit."

"Never did," Jim agreed, "Especially since I'm in."

"No way," Claire said, looking in, "You're kidding me."

"Nope," Jim said, "I'm in the system. I can't read shit, but I am definitely in the Kremlin's network."

"What do we do now?" Claire asked.

"You do the reading," Jim said, "We need to figure out where Ronco went."

"Ok," Claire said, "Looks like you're on a search screen."

"I know," Jim said, "I ran that much through a translator. We need to figure out what to search for."

"Ronco?" Claire asked, "Or the Military base?"

"The base," Jim said, finally remembering what he was looking for, "Can you spell it?"

"Not in a way you'll understand," Claire said, "Do you have a Russian keyboard?"

"I can generate one," Jim said, "Give me a minute."

Jim spent a few minutes setting up a configurable keyboard in Cyrillic. Once he did he let Claire in to do the typing. She searched for the base and hit a roadblock. Jim broke the code and she continued through. They worked as a good tandem team, with her doing the work that required her to read and him breaking any codes.

"It was a missile base," Claire finally said, "I can't tell who uses it now."

Jim switched a few dates and put them in the Russian format. He finally found a file that had been sealed by Vladimir Putin's personal seal. It took him an hour and a half to break that one and Claire finally got to read the file on what that base had been used for.

"Immortality research," Claire said, "Very similar to what was done to you, it looks like."

"How much do we know?" Jim asked.

"Not as much as I'd like," Claire said, "Nothing current on it except for the funding information."

"Looks like those numbers are steadily declining," Jim said, "How much are they currently getting?"

"Not even enough to pay for the upkeep of that base," Claire said, "How the hell are they surviving?"

"Bolantine," Jim said, "Who is in charge of the project?"

"Larion Mishkin," Claire said, "He took over the project from Putin's flunky after Putin left office. His predecessor died in a small plane accident a year and a half ago."

"Bolantine's work, most likely," Jim said, "I think we've found out where Bolantine is creating his lunatics."

"There's a link here," Claire said, "Active investigation..."

"FSB," Jim whistled, "The remains of the once formidable KGB... I wonder what the hell they did to get the attention of them?"

"Can you get to the file?" Claire asked.

Jim started working on breaking his way into the FSB computer system. He managed to get in through a poorly protected machine in an office in the Kremlin. He loved it when people put super secret passwords in text files on their desktop.

"I'm in," Jim said, "Let's see what they're trying to do."

"You have it," Claire said, "Any guesses?"

"Audit," Jim said, "Especially since it was a Putin project. The world knows there's no love lost between Kabalin and Putin."

"Good call," Claire said, "They've been trying to audit this project for months. Four agents have gone missing or died."

"Circumstances?" Jim asked.

"Two never made it," Claire said, reading quickly, "Or at least the project claims they never made it. One died in a mugging..."

"That had to be Bolantine's work," Jim said, "The last one?"

"Died in that plane disaster last week," Claire said, "Did you see in the news that the plane went over the pole and went down soon after passing Newfoundland."

"Bolantine again," Jim said, "That's how he got to the states. Plane dipped down before going up high and crashing into the deepest part of the sea?"

"Don't tell me he jumped out?" Claire said, "Is he insane."

"Worst it would have done is knocked him out," Jim said, "He would have just smacked into the water and if he wore something that would keep him afloat he would have woken up and swam to shore."

"Unreal," Claire said, "This from experience?"

"I wish it weren't," Jim said, "I was flying in a Cessna five years ago and the engine burned out. We hit the ground hard, and I was pulled out without a scratch. I was also the only survivor from above the 110th floor of the world trade center. That was not a fun fall either."

"I can imagine," Claire said, "So what do we do next?"

"We wait a few hours and try to contact Mason," Jim said, "I'm going to pull some more information and then sleep for a while."

"I'll get some food," Claire volunteered, "And start plotting how we will get there."

"The action isn't there yet," Jim said, "It's in the states. Bolantine is likely going after Kabalin. I just hope Mason and Karen break the plot first."

"I know about it, but if I warn them..." Claire sighed, "They'll lock me up."

"In a padded room," Jim said, "I know. Makes our life a lot easier. No one believes we can exist."

"Do you need anything, Jim?" Claire asked him, "You look beat."

"I am," Jim said, "If you can find food, I'll be appreciative."

"Typical Russian Fare will be provided," Claire grinned, "Get some sleep, Jim. I'll be back in an hour."

Jim nodded and went over to the bed, sleeping gratefully as he knew there was little he could do for a while until Mason made contact.
Chapter 34 – Rolling Corpses

"Ok," Nikki said, "You should be wired up. Test your commands."

"Right," Bolantine said, "I've never commanded a large group. Anything I need to know?"

"Keep it simple," Nikki reminded him, "Mishkin said this group probably has the intelligence of a band of ten year olds, especially since they've been heavily dosed with hypnoscine. You will need to repeat the commands often. Luckily most of them lack the ability to comprehend what they are doing."

"Right," Bolantine said and pressed a button, "Group formation!"

The group stood up and formed in a reasonable semblance of a formation. None of them knew what they were doing other than following the orders given to them by Bolantine. The immortal gave them a series of commands and instructed them to get their weapons. They lined up patiently and took the weapons and the requested amount of ammunition.

"Looks good," Bolantine said after turning off his microphone, "I just hope they can ride."

"They should," Nikki said, "They aren't bright but can follow directions."

"Did you lock up the helpers?" Bolantine asked her.

"Yes," Nikki said, "They're in the house where they won't hurt anything when they explode."

"According to the news Kabalin is at the ranch now," Bolantine said, "This is going to be a slow ride and we're now going to be in danger."

"Keep them riding straight and under the speed limit," Nikki said, "I'll do the same with my group."

"Join us after you set your group off, Nikki," Bolantine said, "If things go bad I want you near me."

"I'll set them off, B," Nikki said, "They will shoot anything that moves, so I would prefer not to be there. As soon as you attack hit the blue button on the controller. It will shoot their adrenalin through the roof and it will take a damn act of god to kill them."

"That should give us a chance to come around back and really hit them," Bolantine told her, "Well, that and the stinger I have to hit the helicopter if they make it that far."

"Let's roll," Nikki said, "We have a good five hours of driving if we avoid the highways."

"Right," Bolantine said, "I've driven the route twice. Didn't see any cops, but that doesn't mean they aren't there."

"They won't realize this is anything more than a large group of bikers until it is too late," Nikki smiled, "I'll see you in a few hours, B."

"Count on it," Bolantine said and kissed her forehead.

Chapter 35 – Hangar of Horrors

Mason Stone drove slightly above the speed limit as he approached Tusayan Arizona. Karen had finally recovered enough by sleeping in the back to join him in the front as they drove merely by GPS. She looked around at the small town and found it amusing that they were seeing small town Americana.

"This reminds me of the small town I grew up in," Karen said, "Some places never change."

"Yeah," Mason said, "There's a package on the network from Jim, by the way. Might be useful to have before we go into Bolantine's den."

Karen nodded and pulled the laptop up. She logged in and found the files that Jim had pulled off the FSB network. She, unlike Jim, was particularly fluent in Russian and could read it quickly. She whistled just as Jim did when she finished.

"Jim found Bolantine's Russian Base," Karen said, "He suspects they took over a Putin funded immortality project. He tracked Ronco to the place and broke in to the FSB network to figure out what it was."

"Did he include photos?" Mason asked her, "Bolantine isn't good enough to do this on his own. I'm betting he brought someone over."

"Larion Mishkin," Karen said, "That's the head scientist. Evidently he's been out of the country over the past few weeks. Just got back two days ago."

"Print it," Mason said, "If there's anyone living around there I want his picture for ID purposes."

"Working on it," Karen nodded, "Don't miss your turn."

"Got it," Mason said and turned south on hwy 180.

"I'm looking up the area," Karen said, "There's an abandoned airport about 11 miles from here. Keep going on 180."

"Put it in the GPS," Mason said, "Then get the guns out from under the bed. We're going in to harm's way."

"Ok," Karen agreed, "You're actually risking the van?"

"This van has nearly outlived its usefulness," Mason said, "Its age and gas consumption are making it more conspicuous. Much as I hate to part with it, I think this is going to be its swan song."

"Buy a new one or just get used to ditching stuff?" Karen asked him.

"I'll worry about it later," Mason said, "We should be there in a few minutes and I'd like to be armed."

Karen nodded. She had seen Mason in this mode before and while it was never fun, it was necessary. She pulled a couple rifles out of the cache and looked at another box that she had never noticed before. She looked at it as she put the bolts back in the rifles and loaded them properly. She didn't have much experience with Romanian, but it was close enough to Russian that she finally figured out that it was a box full of C4.

"How long have we been using this thing with a pile of C4?" Karen asked him as she passed him a rifle, "I don't like riding on a bomb."

"C4 is harmless without a detonator," Mason said, "Even in a crash the worst that stuff would do is burn. The detonators are packed in silicon under my seat."

"That is not comforting," Karen sighed, "So what is the plan?"

"Go in and investigate," Mason said, "And hope we aren't too late."

"Ok," Karen sighed, "Where do you want me?"

"Driving," Mason said as he turned on to the dirt road, "Place is two miles up this road. If things go bad you turn around and I'll go through the woods."

Karen nodded and followed the road. She didn't see anyone in the area yet, but she was taking it slow. She just hoped that the old conversion van was up to the task as the roads were old and hit hard with disrepair. Mason had to hold on to his handhold as he watched the area for any signs of Bolantine.

"Four trucks up ahead," Mason said, "Looks like they are opened up."

"A few more freezer trucks by the house," Karen said as they approached, "No people, though."

"Time to investigate," Mason said, "Want to come with me?"

"No," Karen said, "But I'm coming anyway. This place is seriously creepy."

Mason walked around and noticed the piles of tire tracks that were all over the place. It looked like the dirt roads around here had been overrun with small motorcycles. Mason looked into the trucks and saw little, but tire tracks and one disabled motorcycle.

"This is insane," Karen said, "Are we too late?"

"I don't know," Mason admitted, "Let's check the hangar."

The two immortals walked to the hangar and found something out of a bad horror movie. There were body parts and bodies lying all over the place. The smell was something awful as most of the bodies had started rotting in the Arizona heat. Twenty tables had been set up with IV drips and machines that would be more at home in Frankenstein's lab.

"Holy shit," Karen said, summing it up for both of them, "This is like a bad nightmare."

"They figured out a way to electrically reanimate people," Mason said, "Then they pump them full of serum."

"This isn't the same stuff used on us," Karen said, "Different consistency."

"Bolantine never had a chance to learn the full formula," Mason said, "And over a decade in the mountain probably didn't help much."

"So they probably have used Mishkin's project," Karen said, "And let some of Mishkin's scientists experiment with them."

"We know it isn't stable," Mason said, "But how the hell are they controlling these people?"

"Hypnoscine," Karen said, "There's a gallon of the crap sitting on the bench."

"What is it?" Mason said, "I don't read medical journals like you and Jim do."

"Russians created it at the end of the cold war," Karen said, "It was designed as a truth serum based off hyoscine. Stuff is potent and basically turns a person into a mindless automaton."

"That explains how Bolantine is controlling them," Mason said, "They probably aren't all that bright after being dead anyway."

"Hypnoscine is deadly in large doses," Karen said, "But again that won't be a factor."

"Let's check the house," Mason said, "See if we can figure out what their plan is."

Karen nodded and took a sample of the serum used in the reanimation process to analyze for Jim. She put it in an analyst notebook computer that she carried. It broke down the pieces of the serum so she could send it to Jim later on.

The two of them walked over to the house and were a bit disturbed to see that the windows were covered with a fine red mist, as if someone had sprayed blood all over them. Mason looked at Karen who shuddered and pulled the bolt back on her rifle.

"Cover the door," Mason told her, "I'm going in."

Karen nodded silently and let Mason lead the way. Mason kicked the door open and saw a scene that was arguably worse than what they had seen in the hangar. The entire room was covered with blood and pieces of bone, much like the scene when the two Irish lunatics shot up the courtroom in London.

"Stay outside," Mason said, "You don't want to see this."

Karen said nothing but backed up and fought a series of retching. Mason continued into the room and looked for anyone who might have survived the massacre. He was about to give up when he heard a footstep upstairs. He rushed upstairs and kicked open a door to find the last one of the helpers pacing around.

"Who are you?" Mason asked him.

The man thought about that for a second. He had, like the others, been dosed with Hypnocine, but he still had some of his faculties left. Bolantine had not left any commands in him so he could answer.

"Don't... Remember... Name..." he said slowly, "Remember accident... Cold..."

Mason noticed the autopsy stitching and knew that this was one of the people that Bolantine had brought back from the dead to do his bidding. He just hoped the man still had enough left to tell him anything.

"Who did this to you?" Mason asked him.

"Man and woman," he said, "They talked about killing a president... When they weren't talking in a language I didn't under. under... understand."

He was shuddering violently as he paced, finally falling down on the floor and shaking some more. He was the last of the first batch and he was nearing his end point. Mason knew that something was wrong and knew he likely didn't have much time.

"How many?" Mason asked him, "How many did they make?"

"Lots," the man said, "Didn't understand most of it."

"Did the language sound like this?" Mason asked and then fired off a few lines of Russian, "When they were talking?"

"Yes," he said, "What... Language?"

"Russian," Mason said and then shouted downstairs, "Karen get up here!"

"Bad people," the man shuddered, "No respect..."

"Don't worry," Mason said, "You'll sleep soon."

Karen came running up the stairs and was surprised to see Mason kneeling next to the body and walked over to sit next to him. She looked at Mason and joined him in feeling unnerving hatred for Bolantine and his crew.

"Do you have the picture of Mishkin?" Mason asked her, "There was a Russian here."

"Yes," Karen nodded, "Here."

"That's the guy..." the man said, "Feel so hot, like I'm burning up."

"How many of you were there?" Mason asked the guy.

"Six," he said, "Came up... They exploded... Couldn't take it... I'm next..."

"How did they get out of here?" Mason asked, "Motorcycles?"

"Yes," he said, "Lots of them... Left an hour or two ago."

"We just missed them," Karen said, "What do we do?"

"Go to the van and get the explosives," Mason said, "We're bringing this place down. We can't let it fall into federal hands with what Bolantine left behind."

"Don't leave me..." the man said, "I. Don't..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mason promised, "Karen, go downstairs."

Karen nodded. She knew that the guy wouldn't last much longer and didn't particularly want to see what happened when the end came. Mason stayed with him and knew he would no matter what, it was the only decent thing to do.

"I feel so hot," the man said, "I'm burning up."

"I bet it's the result of what they did to bring you back," Mason said, "Did you overhear anything else?"

"The girl said that they didn't want us to explode near the others," he said, "Eight days, they said. I have been here just under that."

"Of course," Mason said, "That's why they do short operations. The reanimation only lasts a few days before it makes the body unstable. A lot now makes sense."

"I wish I'd just gone to the grave," he said, "Will I remember this?"

"I hope not," Mason said, "Time to let your body rest, soldier."

"Right," he said, "Stop them..."

"I intend to," Mason promised, "I intend to."

Mason felt the man's body run warm and closed his eyes so that they wouldn't be fouled by the blood mass that was coming. It took only a few more seconds before the man exploded, sending a wave of blood across the room, completely covering Mason and everything else. Mason himself wasn't knocked over by this, but he was angered.

"You're going to pay for this, Bolantine," Mason promised, "I swear it."

Chapter 36 – Airstrip

Mason washed himself off in the bathroom of the house and then walked downstairs. He was pissed off and not about to let Bolantine win this one. He just had to think of a way to get there. Karen sighed when she saw him and knew the look in his eyes.

"We're going after them, aren't we?" Karen said.

"Yes," Mason nodded, "As soon as I figure out how to get there."

"I talked to Jim," Karen said, "This is likely something similar to one of his earlier serums, but with the reanimation twist. They are getting closer but aren't there yet."

"We'll worry about that when we can get back to Russia," Mason said, "I'm betting a lot of good people are getting ready to die."

"No bet," Karen said, "What do we do?"

"Was there a plane in the hangar?" Mason asked hopefully.

"I was distracted by the bodies," Karen said dryly, "We can look."

"Go look," Mason said, "I'll join you as soon as I grab the explosives."

Karen nodded and didn't argue. She knew that Bolantine had left too much behind to let the feds find. Mason went to the van and got a can of gasoline from the back. He spent a few minutes dousing the house with gasoline and setting it on fire. He then walked over to the hangar where Karen was examining an airplane that was covered over with a tarp at one end of it.

"I'm not sure what it is," Karen said, "Not sure if it's even airworthy."

"It's a crop-duster," Mason said, "Single seater Air Tractor. Old, but still usable. Probably gets used once or twice a year to dust the farms nearby."

"That gets one of us there," Karen said, "They have at least a three-hour head start."

"You get in the van," Mason said, "Haul ass for the President's ranch in Colorado using the highways. Bolantine has to use the back way, you can go more directly, possibly enough to make up the difference."

"You going to fly this thing?"

"After I wire the place to explode," Mason said, "Get moving, we don't have much time. Leave me a rifle and some ammunition. I'll deal with the explosives."

"This is crazy," Karen said, "I'll see you in Colorado."

"See you there," Mason agreed, "I'll be out of here in ten minutes and I'll wave when I fly over."

"Any instructions for Jim?" Karen asked.

"Tell him to keep digging," Mason said, "I don't know how this is going to shake out, so have him and Claire stay put and get ready to meet us in Siberia."

Karen nodded and punched in the location of the President's ranch in the GPS. She fired up the old engine and drove out of the airstrip, leaving Mason behind with the bodies and the old airplane. Mason used the time to properly wire the entire building with C4, enough to level a structure thirty times the size.

He then used one of the trucks to pull the plane out on to the dirt runway. It was gassed up and there was a full tank of insecticide in the dispersal tank. Mason grinned as he knew that he might need that to at least slow down Bolantine's army.

"Time to fly," Mason said as he put the detonator in the cockpit.

He started the old motor and gave it some gas. He tried to remember his rudimentary pilot's training as he maneuvered the aircraft out on the runway and pushed it to the max as he pulled back on the stick. Luckily the aircraft was in decent shape and responsive as he pulled off the ground.

He then pushed the button on the detonator and watched with satisfaction as the old hangar exploded spectacularly taking the evidence of what Bolantine had done with it. He then turned his attention to actually flying the plane.

"Let's hope I can keep this under the radar," Mason said as he headed Northeast, "I don't want to crash the party too early."

Chapter 37 – Russian Respite

Jim Entragian paced around the hotel room and grumbled. He knew his friends were in the middle of a race to beat Bolantine and it pissed him off not to be there. Claire understood his feeling, but felt powerless to offer any comfort to him.

"Damn that bastard," Jim mumbled, "If only that damned serum had blown up in our faces."

"Nothing you can do, Jim," Claire said, "We can't even get to the site right now."

"That doesn't make me like it," Jim said, "I can't even go partake in my usual pastime right now to forget about it."

"Pastime?" Claire asked, "Is this your famous proclivity for ladies of the evening?"

"They told you about that?" Jim chuckled, "They have each other. I have to get it somehow."

"You can't find a nice girl and settle down, can you?" Claire asked him, "Have you ever had a girl that you didn't pay for?"

"Sure," Jim said, "But never for more than one night."

"Don't you worry about..." Claire started to ask and then thought better of it, "You're immune to disease, aren't you?"

"I can't carry it or be infected by it," Jim said, "My white blood cells will destroy even a hard HIV virus. Keeps me from being a parent as well, as my sperm is destroyed by the same mutations that keeps me immortal."

"Sounds like you're the perfect one night stand," Claire sighed, "I never could get into that sort of thing."

"You have anyone waiting for you at home?" Jim asked her, "Anyone who cares if you exist?"

"Nope," Claire admitted, "I spent years taking care of my mother. She was never the same after Dad died."

"Yeah," Jim nodded, "Luckily I've never had that type of connection."

"It's a beautiful thing if it happens," Claire told him, "My parents were so happy. I still have the pictures of them today. I hope to be that way someday."

"Think it will ever happen?" Jim asked her.

"I don't know," Claire said, "How about you?"

"I don't know if I want it to," Jim said, "I'm immortal, Claire. I don't grow old. I may be younger than Mason and Karen, but I'm still old enough to be your father. What would I do if I found the right person?"

"Enjoy it," Claire grinned, "What else could you do?"

"I'd have a few good years," Jim nodded, "Then a lifetime of missing that person. I don't know if I want to do that."

"It's just like they say, Jim," Claire grinned, "It's better to enjoy a few good minutes with the one you love than it is to never have loved them at all."

"Do you really believe that tripe?" Jim asked her, "Do you think Love is a beautiful thing?"

"Better than being a cynic all my life," Claire told him, "You don't know what its like, doing more than just pumping away into a girl. Do you?"

"No," Jim admitted, "And I likely never will."

Claire thought about that for a minute. She actually liked the man sitting with her. Even through his crudeness she knew he had a good heart, despite what he may have done in the past. She wondered if she should show him what it was like to move slowly and enjoy just being with a woman.

"I probably should go to bed," Jim said, "No use me worrying about what I can't deal with."

Claire decided that she had to be the one to act. For all his experience, Jim had never could make his feelings come to life. He had the mindset of a teenager, which was about the age that his mental development had brought him to. She sat down next to Jim and tapped the man on the shoulder.

"What?" Jim asked as she leaned in and kissed him lightly, "Whoa... What was that for?"

"Because I like you," Claire said, "And even if nothing lasting comes from it... I think you should have an experience with someone who likes you instead of another one who is just being paid to lie there and fuck."

"Are you sure?" Jim said, "I mean... I'm not..."

"You're not a lot of things," Claire told him, "You're also not the bastard you claim to be."

"You haven't known me long enough, yet," Jim smiled, "But if you're willing."

"Just so long as you realize that I'm not one of your paid girls," Claire said, a smile forming, "You have to worry about me too..."

"Let's see what I've learned," Jim said and returned the kiss, enjoying it immensely.

Chapter 38 – First Wave

Nikki watched her group drive cohesively up the highway. She knew that it wouldn't be long before they caught sight of the Secret Service agents protecting the president. She was actually counting on it, as her small group was meant to be a distraction that catches the Secret Service attention while the larger group comes in from behind.

"Car one," Nikki said into her communicator, "Ram the gate. Everyone else, shoot anything that is not one of your comrades. Everyone must die."

She then used the last button on her communication console. It was a special device that had been designed to deliver a combination of steroid and adrenalin that made them all enraged and quick. Nikki watched as all the reanimated people started driving towards the base.

The Secret Service agents saw the assault coming, but they were unprepared for anything along the lines of a highly enraged set of zombies. The car rammed into the front gate, exploding and sending three of the automatons flying out of the vehicle. The agents on site shot repeatedly at the people, but they ignored everything.

Nikki watched for a few minutes, but then drove her bike towards the north side. She knew the agents weren't looking for another group, so she ran straight for the helipad. She pulled the small LAW out of her backpack and opened it up. She aimed it at the helicopter that was already starting to warm up and fired. The machine blew up spectacularly as Nikki zipped away and started to head to Bolantine's position.

The first wave of Automatons hit hard and kept shooting. The handlers for the two presidents tried to head for the vehicles, but with the destruction of the helicopter knew they wouldn't make it very far. They started barricading themselves inside the ranch, both the American and Russian agents who were dedicated to protecting their presidents.

The timer had started as the Secret Service had called in for military assistance, which had to come in from a base across the mountains in Fort Carson. They thought that all they had to do was wait. They were wrong.

Chapter 39 – Second Wave

Mason Stone had made up enough time that he could spot Bolantine's second wave as he came upon the President's ranch. The old crop-duster was holding up under the strain as he pushed the machine as fast as it could go. He just didn't know what he would do when he go there.

Bolantine knew that he was playing on a time clock so he pushed his team's adrenalin button and pushed them into the compound. The secret service had not been expecting the second attack at all, but they were about to be hit with something much worse than they expected.

Mason saw the attack heading in and decided that he had only one choice. He circled around and headed his plane straight into the biggest mass of the automatons. Bolantine didn't see it coming, but he heard it as Mason performed a kamikaze maneuver with a fully loaded crop duster into a group of over fifty of the hyped up automatons.

Bolantine growled when he saw this and tried to get them to move, but the group wasn't quick enough and he knew it. There was little he could do but continue on with the attack. He gave the orders over the radio to what remained of his force. Full speed ahead, everyone in the ranch must die.

The plane exploded fantastically, igniting the chemical insecticide and turning the crop duster into shrapnel. Mason was thrown out of the plane by the explosion but his immunity to fire and his quick healing ability made him able to withstand the crash. He hit the ground and rolled a bit, putting out the flames and laid out flat as soon as he came to a stop.

The group he had crashed in to was all but demolished by the blast, cutting Bolantine's horde down to a group almost as small as the first wave. Bolantine didn't know what the hell was going on, but he didn't like it. Nikki rode her bike up and joined the evil immortal as he pushed the attack.

"What the hell was that?" Nikki asked him, "Did you arm any of them with explosives."

"It was a plane crash," Bolantine said, "Whatever happens, Kabalin must die! I think it was the test subject."

"How the hell?" Nikki said, then thought better of it, "I don't want to know. I'll go in with the group. You take care of the test subject!"

"Fine," Bolantine said, "I wonder where the nearest mine is. I'd love to drop him down it."

"Later," Nikki said, "Move it!"

Mason's injuries from the blast healed within moments and he pulled himself up. His clothing was badly charred, but he was in decent shape considering he had just run a plane directly into the ground. He just hoped that Karen was close enough to help with the rest.

Chapter 40 – A Wild Ride

Karen had just missed the end of the first wave when she drove through the remains of the front gate. There was still a small gunfight going on with the remains of the first wave. There were only two agents left, the primary protective agent for each president had managed to keep their people alive.

Karen figured that the other attack would be coming in very soon so she gunned the motor and ran over the two remaining automatons. The two agents looked out and saw Karen who was a lot more lifelike than anyone else at the moment.

"Are the presidents alive?" Karen yelled.

"Yes," the agent said, "Who are you?"

"A friend," Karen said, "There's another wave coming in. How far out are reinforcements?"

"Fort Carlson," the agent said, "Another fifteen minutes, at least."

"They'll be late," Karen said, "This tub is your only hope."

"How many?" the agent asked, "And how do you know?"

"Don't ask," Karen said, "Look out the back window."

The Russian agent saw Bolantine's force coming over a hill and shouted for the presidents to move. The American agent saw all he needed to see and pulled Kabalin and Creighton through the door. Karen opened the side door and let the four men pile in before she put the gas on and pulled away from the remains of the ranch house.

"How the hell does this happen?" President Creighton yelled, "This is an army!"

"They're all dead," Karen said as she drove, "Dead men can't talk."

"Where are you going?" the American agent said.

"Away from them," Karen said, pointing out the back, "How are you two for ammo?"

"Lousy," he said, "Oleg?"

"One clip," the Russian said, "Not enough."

"There are rifles under the bed," Karen said, "Should be four of them left, along with some small arms. Shoot for their head, anything else won't slow them down."

"Right," The American agent said, "Can you shoot one of these Mr. President?"

"I can," Kabalin said.

"I haven't in years," Creighton said, "But I'll learn."

Karen drove south towards the larger highways. She knew that she had the advantage of a better motor on a straightaway, but that the motorcycles could maneuver better when on dirt. She pushed the old machine she was driving as much as she could.

Meanwhile, Nikki went through the ranch and cursed in seven languages when she found out that Kabalin had left. She got on the bike and ordered her small troop to follow the fresh tracks. This wasn't difficult as there was really only one way out of the area.

"Test subject," Nikki seethed, "Get them all!"

Nikki started driving as fast as she could to catch up. She was watching all her hard work fall apart, and she wasn't about to let a simple test subject make all of it for naught. She pumped the adrenalin button a second time and watched them all attack the van.

"Kill them!' Nikki yelled, "Tear that van apart!"

The two agents and the presidents fired at the approaching undead soldiers, firing rounds when they had good shots. Karen had been right about hitting them in the bodies. None of them even noticed hits anywhere other than the head. President Creighton knew he couldn't get shots at the head so he did one better and went after the bikes, finally hitting one of them and locking up the front wheel.

The automaton flew off the bike and managed to grab on to the bumper. The adrenalin pumped man crawled up the van and managed to grab a rifle from the Russian president before getting his head blown off by the Russian agent.

"You," Karen said to the American President, "Take the wheel."

"Are you nuts?" Crieghton said, "Why?"

"I'm better with guns than you are," Karen said, "And we're about to be boarded. Drive us straight and swerve if need be. If you can find a low bridge that would help too."

"Right," Creighton said, "Incoming!"

One of Nikki's group had managed to get in front of the van. President Creighton pushed the gas and slammed into the motorcycle. The man jumped off the bike and onto the windshield, shattering it and making it difficult to see through. Karen took her pistol and fired six shots, finally destroying the head of the attacking automaton.

"Another score for the good guys," Creighton muttered, "How many are there?"

"Depends on if Mason managed to kill any of them," Karen said, "I don't know how many they had to start with."

"Where are we going?" Kabalin asked.

"As far away from the zombies as we can," Karen said, "Hopefully somewhere we can defend."

"There's an armory about ten miles up the road," Creighton said, "If you can keep us alive, I can get us there."

"I think we'll be dead in five miles," the American said, "Ten more bearing straight in."

"Punch it, Creighton," Karen said, "Keep this tub at top speed. Don't worry about keeping it alive, it's paid for."

"Right," Creighton said, "Cover me!"

The last bunch headed towards the van and crashed against it in various places. They tried shooting out the tires, but Mason had long since put bulletproof tires on the thing. He had known what to do to make the thing survive a siege like this.

"How do we fight them?" The Russian agent yelled, "They don't die!"

"Take off their heads!" Karen yelled, "Anything you can use!"

"Hit them at the base of the neck," the American said, "It worked on the ones back at the ranch, one exploded after that."

Karen pulled out knives and started using them. She cut at any hand that came in from outside. She also went for throats and other body parts. She was most interested in making sure that anyone who got onto the van couldn't do much.

Nikki Bolantine knew that her people were losing. She was down to only a few left. She decided that it was time for drastic measures. Using the last of her automatons for cover she went for the front of the van and ran her motorbike up to the back of it. She grabbed on and pulled herself up acrobatically and pulled the Russian agent out of the van. He rolled quickly as he hit the ground.

The American agent tried to shoot Nikki, but had long since run out of ammunition. The Automatons were all over the van and there was no stopping them. Karen knew they were about to lose when she saw Nikki again. She decided that pushing against automatons was useless unless she took out their leader.

"Hey Nikki!" Karen yelled, "Remember Marden Mine?"

"Too well," Nikki said, "You will pay for that one."

"Here's a reminder!" Karen yelled and tossed a bottle of Jim's cheap booze at her, "Immortal flambé!"

Karen started a flare and jammed it in Nikki's chest, setting the immortal on fire. She screamed, but didn't react quite as badly as she had in Marden Mine years before. She knew now that she was immune from fire and ignored the tingling sensation that the fire on her chest had caused.

Presidents Creighton and Kabalin were fighting the Automatons as well as trying to keep the van driving. The American agent was holding his own, but just barely. He had pulled an axe out of a toolbox and managed to get a whack in at a couple of the automaton's heads.

"Hold on!" Creighton said, "I think I know how to shake these things!"

Creighton took a sharp turn into a gas station and managed to knock off several automatons by driving too close to the building. Nikki saw this and growled, knowing that she was starting to get outnumbered. She pulled her last ditch weapon and was about to try to attack Kabalin again when one of the mutilated solid tires on the van finally gave out.

Creighton tried in vain to keep the van upright, but he lost the battle, and the old machine flipped over. Kabalin and Creighton were in the front seats and saved by the airbags that deployed during the crash. The American agent landed on the last of the automatons, which absorbed enough impact to keep him alive. Nikki and Karen were both ejected from the van forcefully and rolled several hundred feet away.

Presidents Creighton and Kabalin managed to crawl out of the wreck, but neither one was in particularly good shape. They were both hurt in multiple places. The American agent also managed to crawl out, but he was seriously injured.

Nikki was the first one of the immortals to heal enough to get up. She stood up and saw the van and it's still living occupants. She stood up and ran over to the two presidents. They couldn't believe she was still living and were surprised by the fact she was coming towards them.

"Good luck in hell, President Kabalin," Nikki said as she raised a small pistol, "Give Stalin my regards."

"Drop it, Nikki," Karen said, "You can't win here."

"I win when he dies," Nikki said, "Not like you can do anything."

"You get caught here and you become a prisoner," Karen said, "A test subject, just like I was."

"Not for long," Nikki said and pulled the trigger only to be met with deafening silence.

"Weapon is empty, Nikki," Karen said, "You have a choice. Run now, and we'll meet again later or you can go into US custody. Your choice."

"I can still kill him," Nikki said defiantly, "You know that."

"I know that," Karen said, "But if you do, I will make sure they catch you and know exactly what you are. If you run now with Kabalin still alive and get out of the country before they catch you, I will keep the truth to myself."

"You expose me, I expose you," Nikki said.

"I didn't kill a president," Karen smiled, "You are running out of time. The crew from Fort Carlson should be here soon."

"You're lucky," Nikki told Kabalin, "Next time we won't spare you."

Nikki Bolantine knew that Karen wasn't bluffing. The best advantage they all had was to hide their immortality. Kabalin wasn't worth giving that advantage up and both she and Karen knew it. She ran into the woods and knew that the best thing she could do was find Bolantine and get the hell out of the country.

"Who was she?" Kabalin said.

"Someone who has no conscience," Karen said, "But that you are better off not catching."

"Who the hell is going to believe this?" Creighton said.

"No one," Karen said, "It was a small army of Russian extremists. Anything else and relations for both countries go bad."

"But they weren't Russian," Kabalin said.

"They were led by one," Karen told them, "Don't worry, Kabalin. You'll piece it together in a few weeks. In the meantime, do me a favor and forget you saw me, eh?"

With that Karen went over to the gas station that they had just crashed in to. She broke the window of a car sitting in the lot and wired it. She drove off towards Boulder Colorado, knowing that Mason would meet her there eventually.

Chapter 41 – Payback

Mason Stone couldn't help but smile as he saw the corpses of Bolantine's army start to explode. He was beaten and battered, but he had taken out most of them in one fell swoop. He stretched and walked around trying to figure out what happened down at the ranch.

"The test subject," Bolantine said, walking out onto the plains, "So we meet again."

"I bet you didn't expect that one," Mason chuckled, "The feds are likely on their way."

"From Fort Carlson," Bolantine shrugged, "Another thirty minutes out. I'd intended to spend this time killing me some presidents, but you and that bitch girlfriend of yours had other ideas."

"I guess Karen managed to get Kabalin and Creighton," Mason said, "I bet you didn't expect that one."

"Last I heard you were in Ireland," Bolantine agreed, "Should have stayed there, test subject."

"The beer was good," Mason admitted, "But I couldn't sit by and watch you kill people without trying to stop you."

"You'll fail," Bolantine said, "Nikki will take care of them."

"That's what you said last time," Mason said, letting a self satisfied smile come over his face, "Just before Karen lit her on fire and pushed her down the mine shaft."

"The mine shaft," Bolantine said, "I owe you big time for that."

"My only regret is that I didn't drop you in a deeper hole than I did," Mason shrugged, "So what are you going to do now?"

"Let Nikki kill the presidents while I kick your ass," Bolantine said, "How does that sound?"

"Like a pipe dream," Mason said, "But you're welcome to try."

"Throw down," Bolantine said, "Isn't that what you say nowadays?"

"How the hell would I know?" Mason asked reasonably, "I'm almost as old as you are, Bolantine."

"It's time to find out how well age has taken us," Bolantine said, "We still have twenty minutes."

"I can't deny that beating on you won't be amusing," Mason said, "But it won't solve anything. Both of us will still be alive."

Bolantine shrugged and stepped closer. He was beyond caring about the mission. He figured that Mason had already cost him twelve years lying in the bottom of a closed mine; a few million dollars were worth beating the hell out of the test subject.

Mason knew that any time he spent beating on Bolantine would be worth it to give Karen a fighting chance to save the presidents. He got in a stance and got ready for Bolantine. He wondered how much the old gangster had learned in the past years.

Bolantine went for an old street move and went for Mason's knees. Mason dodged the blow easily and landed a solid blow on Bolantine's head, breaking his own hand on the hard headed gangster. Bolantine growled and went for Mason's throat.

Mason took the blow, but ignored it as best he could. He really didn't care much about winning so much as delaying the immortal madman. Mason whaled at him like a man possessed, smashing the other man's ribs as hard as he could manage.

"Nice try," Bolantine gasped, "But not good enough!"

Bolantine kneed Mason in the groin and pushed the other immortal back. He then rushed Mason again and let off several good punches in head, breaking out what few remaining original teeth that Mason had. The adrenalin hit him and he started working on beating on Mason again.

Mason knew that Bolantine would keep more interest if he was winning, so he did little more than continue to make a good push to continue the fight. The pain was only temporary, and he knew that he would win in the long run.

"How do you feel now?" Bolantine asked him after a particularly brutal kick, "Feel good about losing?"

Mason backed off for a moment and let his body heal. He shook his head and decided he'd had enough. He knew he wasn't in a good place to capture Bolantine properly so he decided that it was just enough to keep the immortal from winning.

"Who said I was losing?" Mason asked him, "You?"

"What do you call what I was doing?" Bolantine asked, "Hmm... I know... I call it kicking your ass?"

"I call it stringing you along," Mason said, "It's time to go, Bolantine."

Mason went in using the best moves he knew. The years he had spent learning self defense finally came into play. Bolantine's old style of fighting didn't stand a chance against Mason's modern self defense techniques.

Mason beat on Bolantine even worse than he'd been beaten on himself. He was in the process of shoving Bolantine's nose almost down his throat when he heard a motorcycle driving up.

"Time to go!" Nikki yelled, "Let the feds deal with him."

"I can win this!" Bolantine yelled, just in time to take a roundhouse kick to the head.

"You don't have time," Nikki said, "The presidents are still alive. We gotta get out of here before they figure it out."

"Already?" Mason asked them, "No more play time?"

"We'll get you later, test subject," Nikki said, "And that little blonde bitch of yours too."

Bolantine got on the back of Nikki's bike and the two of them rode off to the east. Mason watched them and couldn't help but laugh. Karen had managed to save the presidents. They had won, at least for the moment. He walked to the wreck of the plane and saw the remains of the ranch. He sighed and knew nobody had won this one.

Mason sighed and jogged down to the ranch and took one of the remaining motorbikes. He drove into the trees just as the helicopters started coming into earshot. Bolantine had lost, he thought, but nobody won this round. He intended to make sure that Bolantine's place in Russia went down in flames, just as Bolantine himself could never do.

Chapter 42 – The News

Jim Entragian sat up in the Russian bed and smiled at Claire. She was still sleeping after the workout they had given each other. She was still sleeping so he reached for the remote control. He didn't understand most of the local television, but there were enough westerners living in Russian hotels for them to carry an English news feed.

It was ten hours later there, so despite being very early in the morning in Moscow it was time for the evening news in the US. Unlike normal they seemed to be fixated on one time and place. Jim turned up the volume and listened for a few minutes.

"Just to recap for our viewers," The news bimbo said, "There has been an attack on the conference between President Alex Creighton and Russian President Kabalin. Details are still sketchy at this point, however, it has been publicly released that both Presidents are alive. Initial indications are that the attack was by Putinist Russian terrorists who wanted to derail..."

"They did it!" Jim exclaimed, "Kabalin and Creighton survived!"

Claire woke up and looked at the television. She breathed a sigh of relief that Mason and Karen had been able to stop the attack from fully succeeding. They watched together for a bit, but knew that it wasn't a complete victory.

"This is going to piss Kabalin off," Claire said, "It won't take long for them to figure out that Mishkin's crew is behind this. They may not guess Bolantine, but if Kabalin looks..."

"Yeah," Jim said, "We need to start preparing for a departure."

"Two of us against Bolantine's crew?" Claire said, "You're insane."

"Three," Jim said, "Mason, Karen, and Me. You can't go on this one."

"I'm in on this," Claire said, "This bastard killed my father!"

"Elise Steele did that," Jim told her, "You can't kill him, Claire. He's just as immortal as I am. You go there and you won't come back."

"I'm in this just as far as you," Claire said, "I still have to go after Ronco."

"Ronco won't survive this," Jim said, "This is a serious deal, Claire."

"You going to kill them all?" Claire asked him.

"I don't know what Mason will do," Jim said, "I don't know what we will find."

"I can't let you do it alone," Claire said, "Do you understand that?"

"I will be able to come back to you, Claire," Jim told her, looking into her eyes, "You might not come back at all."

Jim realized that he'd let himself get too close. The damned thing about it was that he couldn't make himself care. He just wanted to stay with her and keep her out of the fight to come. He wrapped his arm around her and looked into her eyes.

"Claire," Jim said, "You've shown me something I've never seen before. Probably something even the man I was before immortality never knew. I don't want to lose it."

"Not your choice to make," Claire told him, "I have a job to do, just like you."

"Listen," Jim said, "It's going to take a day or two for Mason to make it through to here. Let's just enjoy our time and make the decision when they get here. It's likely going to be out of my hands. Mason will never let you come anyway."

"I'll talk to him," Claire said and kissed him softly, "The important part is making sure that Bolantine fails."

"Amen to that," Jim said and held her closely.

Chapter 43 – Dead Agents

Larion Mishkin paced around the office. His temples throbbed as he read the dispatches. He wasn't angry about the fact that the president survived the attack. He was angrier that the agent had been able to report home. He knew that things weren't going to go well.

"Where the hell is that Aussie idiot?" Mishkin yelled, "And why isn't that agent dead yet?"

"I don't know," Zanzarin said, "It was one of the new radio people who let him report. I don't know how much he said."

"Bolantine failed too," Mishkin grumbled, "Managed to kill everyone at the ranch other than Kabalin, Creighton and two protective agents. They're both pissed and if they put two and two together..."

"We're screwed," Zanzarin agreed, "It doesn't take much to see that one."

"So why is that agent still alive?" Mishkin growled, "Find that Aussie lunatic!"

Zanzarin had never seen his boss this pissed off. He went out and started looking for Ronco. It wasn't hard to find him. He had charmed one of the nurses with his Australian accent and was working on getting her out of her clothes when Zanzarin found him.

"Hey baby," Ronco said, "You know you want to..."

"No she doesn't," Zanzarin said, "Mishkin wants to see you."

"What now Zanzarin?" Ronco asked him, "Poor guy getting lonely? I don't operate that way..."

"Nekulturny..." Zanzarin muttered, "Get up there before I test our latest serum on you."

"I'm not gonna get any peace until I do, am I?" Ronco said, "All right, bring me to the man."

The two of them walked up to the office that Mishkin used in the building. Mishkin saw Ronco and his anger spilled out. He went over to the tissue dealer and shoved him against the wall. Ronco started to defend himself, but stopped when he saw Zanzarin pull out his pistol.

"Give me a reason to make you a test subject, Ronco," Zanzarin said, "I would love it."

"No need to be hasty, mate," Ronco said, "What do you want?"

"Why didn't you kill the agent?" Mishkin asked him.

"I never found him," Ronco said, "Didn't think it was that important."

"You idiot," Mishkin said, "With what that agent reported this place is likely going to be under attack."

"What do we do?" Zanzarin said.

"Use the bodies we have," Mishkin said, "I want them all prepped. Use the A team for that. Bolantine will agree when he finds out and it's his screw up that is necessitating this."

"What about me?" Ronco said.

"Kill that agent!" Mishkin said, "If you don't want your next job to be as a test subject!"

"Right," Ronco said, "What have you done about Natalia?"

"That's what the B team is for," Mishkin said, "We're running out of time. Try the new protocol on her. She's the best preserved and probably the best psychological subject for it."

"We can't use the Hypnocine on the new protocol," Zanzarin reminded him, "That's why we've been hitting the old one again."

"She won't need it," Ronco said, "She'll be itching to get the guys who killed her."

"Exactly," Mishkin said, "We need Hypnoscine for the other bodies, not for her. They have a week to get it right."

"All right," Zanzarin said, "And him?"

"Get moving, Ronco," Mishkin said, "I want him dead. Do it away from the others, toss him down a missile shaft."

"Right," Ronco said, "On it, mate."

Mishkin watched them leave and sat down at his desk. He didn't like it, but he knew he had to live with it. Now, he just hoped that Bolantine showed up in time for him to kick the immortal in the nuts before Kabalin's storm troopers came in.

Chapter 44 – Boulder

Mason Stone ditched the bike just inside the Boulder City limits. It had been a few hours, but he had assumed that Karen would make it there first. He walked a bit and stole some clothes so that he wouldn't look quite as bad as he did earlier. The only thing he couldn't fix himself were the missing teeth that were taking their time to grow back in.

Karen Stone was sitting in a warm bath when Mason let himself into the room. He didn't have any identification with him, but he knew enough how to find her that he managed to slip in. She looked up as he walked in and shook her head.

"We did it," Karen said, "Why do I feel like I'm on the losing team?"

"Kabalin and Creighton?" Mason asked her.

"Alive," Karen said, "Been on the news all day."

"Bolantine and his bitch escaped," Mason said, "How did you get them out of there?"

"I threatened her anonymity," Karen said, "She knew she was running out of time."

"Good," Mason said, "She and Bolantine escaped, but their plan was just as screwed up."

"Probably better for Russia," Karen said, "But not for us."

"Why so?" Mason asked her, "I think we did pretty well coming from behind like we did."

"Message from Jim," Karen said, "He's monitoring the Russians. They are mobilizing."

"Shit," Mason said, "They know about Mishkin?"

"If they don't know now they will soon," Karen said, "You think the feds will miss his involvement? They aren't that dumb."

"We need to get to Russia," Mason said, "Bolantine is likely already on his way."

"No rest for the wicked?" Karen asked him.

"Only if I can crawl in that tub with you," Mason said, "Then we'll let them rest for a bit before we kick their asses."

"Sure," Karen smiled, "How's your mouth? You're talking funny."

"Teething sucks," Mason said, "It'll be better tomorrow."

"I'm sure," Karen grinned, "You know, it's amusing talking to an ancient man about teething."

"I'm not much more ancient than you," Mason said, "Now let me in or we'll have to go now."

"Plane doesn't leave for Tokyo until tomorrow," Karen said, "Tokyo to Moscow is an easier flight than anything else."

"That works," Mason said, "I should have figured that out already."

"Jim did it," Karen said, "He was in an especially good mood."

"Of course he was," Mason said, stifling a yawn, "He got to miss the action and hang out with a pretty agent."

"Get in here," Karen laughed, "It's time for a rest."

Mason didn't have it in him to disagree.

Chapter 45 – Juneau

Bolantine and Nikki managed to catch a small plane from Cheyenne to go to the airfield in Juneau. They had the same point of escape set up as they did Mishkin, a propeller plane from Juneau to Vladivostok. They knew they could catch a Russian plane from Vladivostok to the airfield at the base without anyone noticing.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Bolantine asked her as they sat on a noisy propeller plane, "You had him in your sights."

"The test subject's bitch was there," Nikki said, "She had the drop on me."

"So?" Bolantine said.

"She threatened to hand me over to the feds," Nikki said, "She didn't want to do it, but I have a feeling she would have."

"Great," Bolantine said, "Probably best you didn't chance it."

"Not great," Nikki said, "How the hell did they catch up to us?"

"Ronco," Bolantine said, "We shouldn't have let him go to Ireland."

"I hope you have an idea on how to fix this," Nikki said, "If he figured out this project you can bet that the test subject will be in Russia soon."

"Let's hope we can hold out long enough for them to get the B protocol right," Bolantine said, "If we can't, we get the data out and try again."

"I hate that I don't understand half of what they are doing," Nikki said, "They could be doing anything with our money!"

"We'll take care of that," Bolantine said, "When we get back we'll get the data out. If the project goes on, great, if it doesn't we'll work on getting educated in the business."

"Ok," Nikki said, "What do we do now?"

"Rest," Bolantine said, touching Nikki's shoulder, "Together. It'll be a few hours until Vladivostok."

Nikki smiled and curled up against him.

Chapter 46 – Delaying Tactics

Claire sat up and looked at her phone. She knew she needed to answer it, especially with what happened at home. She just didn't want to deal with it. She had just come off one of the best nights she had ever had and really didn't want to deal with work.

"Work?" Jim asked her.

"Yeah," Claire nodded, "Probably wants information from my project."

"They've put it together somehow," Jim said, "My guess is they tracked Mishkin out of the country."

"Let me check," Claire said, "Give me a minute."

"I'll check on things myself while you do," Jim said, "They may not give you much."

"Probably right," Claire nodded, "Depends on if they connected Ronco or not."

"And how imaginative they are," Jim said, "Let's hope that they put two and two together and can't make themselves believe that four is the right answer."

"Right," Claire said and opened up her portable unit.

Jim went online and checked the traps he set to see whether anyone had put anything together. He knew that with the attacks on the two presidents the intelligence agencies would be clamoring to find out from where the attack had materialized.

"They linked Ronco," Claire said, "They want a report on what I've found here on him. What the hell do I do?"

"We come up with a line of bullshit that they can believe," Jim said, "You ignore the things you can't legitimately know and lead them around the bend while we work on destroying Bolantine's facility and the research."

"You're going to try to use me as a distraction?" Claire asked him, "After... this?"

"I'm concerned about you," Jim said, "I don't want you destroying your career."

"What did you find out?" Claire asked, not really wanting to deal with that subject, "Anything?"

"They know Ronco came through Moscow but they haven't put together everything I have," Jim said, "My trace on the money finally came through as well. Whoever moved it did a good job, but they could not mask it completely against someone who was willing to break most of the world's banking laws."

"Who?" Claire asked.

"Iran," Jim said, "Surprised?"

"No," Claire shrugged, "They'd love to see the Americans and Russians at each other's throats again."

"Camran Alazzi," Jim said, "I think we need to push the Russians in that direction."

"Ok," Claire said, "Can you come up with evidence I can use?"

"Evidence can be manufactured," Jim said, "The key will be to delay the Russians from marching on Mishkin's base."

"Why?" Claire said, "I don't get it... Don't you want it destroyed?"

"We want the research destroyed," Jim said, "The Russians won't destroy the research. We need to get there first."

"And keep Bolantine out of it," Claire finished, "You don't want him caught."

"Not by a government," Jim said, "We're afraid that if given enough time someone could reverse engineer what was done to us."

"Don't like that idea?" Claire said.

"Imagine outliving everyone you've ever known," Jim said, "And if that doesn't scare you, imagine if Elise Steele had managed to take this stuff. She easily could have taken it while she was carting Elliot across the country with the last doses of the serum. Frankly, as bad as Bolantine and Nikki are, they are saints compared to that psychotic bitch."

"I can imagine," Claire sighed, "How old are you, Jim?"

"I'm probably fifty or sixty," Jim said, "I'm not that far in yet. Mason is in his seventies, as is Karen. Bolantine is over a hundred."

"That's insane," Claire said, "But you might not be... Right?"

"I've been burned, stabbed, and shot," Jim said, "And that's just by jealous boyfriends. Mason and Karen have been through similar. We always heal within minutes."

"So what is the plan?" Claire asked, "If I can't lead anyone to Mishkin."

"I'll route some of the money around so that it's provable," Jim told her, "Our concern is Bolantine. We'll let the national community deal with Iran."

"I'll get on with contacting home," Claire told him, "Unfortunately Ronco is where Bolantine is. I'll probably end up being a liaison with the Russians on that one."

"Good," Jim said, "You can push them to Ronco. I'm going to try to write him up as the major bad guy on this so they don't look for Bolantine later."

"Ronco is too much a screwup," Claire said, "How can I sell that?"

"So was Hitler," Jim shrugged, "Ronco was in Ireland with McIrney. He was in Morocco with the bodies. He's in Russia with Mishkin. Guy gets around. We manufacture some evidence that he was with Alazzi instead of Nikki Bolantine..."

"You have evidence Nikki was there?" Claire asked, "How?"

"A solid hunch," Jim said, "A private blog written by one of Alazzi's guards. You wouldn't believe the stuff you can find there. Just have to crack the encryption and run it through a translator. I already adjusted it to say that it was a crazy Australian instead of a small girl."

"So we pin it all on Ronco," Claire said, "This won't work if they catch him."

"He won't survive," Jim promised, "We'll make sure of it."

"Ok," Claire nodded, "I have a report to make. Put together the evidence and give it to me and I'll get that done. Then, we'll work on the next part."

"Done," Jim said, handing her a jump drive, "Everything you need is on there. Review it before you give anything over."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked.

"Make it difficult for the Russians to look other places," Jim said, "I don't want them looking at Mishkin directly for a few days. Mason and Karen will be here in 36 hours. We'll figure out where to go next after that."

"Another night here?" Claire asked playfully.

"Of course," Jim said, "So long as your government doesn't give you any trouble."

"I doubt they will," she said, "It'll take a few days for them to read it."

"Let's get cracking," Jim said, "We've got a lot to do and only a little time left."

"And only a little more play time," Claire smiled, "Right?"

"That too," Jim grinned.

Chapter 47 – Bolantine's Return

Bolantine's plane set down in the airfield shortly after midnight. He prepared a weapon in case things had gone completely to hell after the assassination attempt failed. Nikki took one as well and looked at her long time lover.

"Think things are about to go bad, B?" Nikki asked him.

"Probably," Bolantine said, "But we aren't giving up without a fight. We have a lot invested in this."

"Good thing I over quoted the costs," Nikki said, "We may not get the second payment, but we only spent half the money he sent."

"Did you protect the money well?" Bolantine asked her, "You know the test subject likes to attack the money."

"If he can break that money trail then he deserves it," Nikki said, "I doubt anyone could track it all now especially since none of it came here. The accounts for this place are still flush with cash."

"We'll write that off if we have to," Bolantine told her, "Just so long as we get the data for use later."

"I'm going to attempt a computer dump when we get inside," Nikki said, "I think I know enough how to do it."

"Let's see how we do," Bolantine said, "How pissed do you think Mishkin is going to be?"

"Livid," Nikki shrugged, "We still control the purse strings."

"Let's hope they have made some progress," Bolantine said.

The two of them walked into the base and made their way to Mishkin's office. The Russian saw them and jumped up out of his seat. He was pissed off, just like Bolantine expected them to be. He went over to them.

"You Bastard!" Mishkin yelled, "All that and you fail!"

"You knew it was not guaranteed," Bolantine told him, "It was a calculated risk. We lost. We didn't expect the damned test subject to show up."

"He was there?" Mishkin said, "How?"

"I don't know," Bolantine said, "But assume he knows everything. How prepared are we?"

"Not enough," Mishkin said, "I've put all teams in high gear. We had another agent show up while I was gone."

"Did he report?" Nikki asked.

"He did report some," Bolantine said, "Otherwise Mishkin wouldn't be so worried."

"Your idiot Ronco didn't finish the job I gave him," Mishkin explained, "He's been drinking and hitting on nurses since he got here."

"He's an idiot," Bolantine agreed, "That's why I kept him for so long. I figured I'd need someone to blame at some point. Why did you trust it to him?"

"I mistakenly thought you had competent people," Mishkin seethed, "So it won't be long before they put two and two together. Spetznatz could be here at any time!"

"So what are we doing about it?" Bolantine asked, "Or did you do nothing?"

"I have all teams working nonstop," Mishkin said, "We're burning off our supply of bodies that way when they attack we have something to fight back with."

"What about Natalia?" Bolantine asked, "Are you trying anything on her?"

"B protocol," Mishkin said, "But it isn't ready yet. We bring her back too soon... She could go insane."

"Natalia was already insane," Bolantine said, "That's why I hired her. She'll be perfect to put against the test subject when he gets here. I want her ready."

"I have them working full time too," Mishkin said, "They could use some more time with you."

"I will submit to a bit of poking and prodding," Bolantine said, "Nikki, you do some intelligence work. See if you can find out what the Russians are planning."

"You know they will attack!" Mishkin yelled.

"Of course," Bolantine admitted, "The key is to make the attack fail. Then, we go and set up shop somewhere else."

"But the talent..." Mishkin said, "This is home."

"Home is an understatement," Bolantine said, "But leaving it beats dying. Right?"

"Right," Mishkin said, "Just do something about Ronco."

"I'll consider it," Bolantine said, "Now let's get started."

Chapter 48 – The Russian Progression

Mason and Karen walked off the Aeroflot plane and took a look around at Moscow. They hadn't been there for a while, and the place hadn't changed too much. Mason recognized the usual landmarks and felt more at home than he should have.

"Some things never change," Mason remarked in flawless Russian, "Moscow is one of them."

"That's true," Karen said, "Are we done with Airplanes for a while?"

"At least with commercial air," Mason said, "We'll have to see what Jim had managed to find to get us out there. I don't know what that is going to entail."

Mason went to the parking lot and found the car that Jim had obtained for them. Finding the lockbox with the key was easy enough and he punched the buttons to let the key out. He got into the old vehicle and started the engine, reacquainting himself with the Russian gauges and remembering how long it had been since he'd driven in Russia.

"Where is Jim?" Karen asked him, "Do we know?"

"He just changed locations again," Mason said, "He's in a little fleabag outside town."

"How do you know that?" Karen asked.

"The message in poorly translated Russian on the dashboard," Mason chuckled, "I'm amazed he managed to get the room on his own."

"Depends on if Claire is still with him," Karen shrugged, "She might have done the leg work."

"I hope not," Mason said, "We don't need her knowing too much."

"She already knows too much," Karen said, "But that's to be expected. So what do we do about that?"

"Nothing," Mason said as he drove through the Moscow streets, "We finish this out and get out of sight for a while. I'm thinking a nice long vacation in the States. What do you think?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Karen laughed, "I think you need to take a left at the next intersection."

Mason nodded and did so. It took them a few minutes and only a couple missed turns to get to the little motel that Jim had taken a room at. They walked up to the door and knocked on it. Mason hoped that things were still clear, especially since he was still unarmed.

"About time you two showed up," Jim said, "Things are moving quickly. Too quickly for my taste."

"Been avoiding the ladies of the evening?" Karen asked him.

"Been having too much fun to need them," Jim said honestly, "Unfortunately Claire had to go join the US contingent."

"What did you do?" Mason said, "And what do they know?"

"I painted Ronco as the villain," Jim said, "They're starting to crack in, so I pushed them away from Bolantine. Claire is on board with it and is with them to further that version of the truth."

"That keeps us covered unless they catch Bolantine," Karen said, "Have they found Mishkin yet?"

"Mishkin had a leak," Jim said, "The Russians are planning to go in. I've managed to do some delaying by pushing more blame on the Iranians, but we've got maybe another 24 hours."

"Do you have transport set up to the facility?" Mason asked him.

"A transport plane with a flight plan ten kilometers south of there," Jim said, "I have parachutes set up and we can glide most of it. It'll be cold and miserable, but we can get there in four hours this way."

"When is the plane leaving?" Mason asked, "And do they know what we're up to?"

"They'll find out on the way," Jim shrugged, "Plane leaves when we do. Have either of you slept?"

"I did on the plane," Karen said, "He'll sleep when we're done."

"Too hyped up to sleep," Mason said, "I want this mess over with."

"You make the call," Jim said to Karen, "I need to take my gear down and stow it."

"Think Bolantine knows we're coming?" Mason asked Jim as he watched the younger man take down the electronics.

"He's an idiot if he doesn't," Jim said, "I've been trying to track all his funds, but he's gotten better about that. I doubt I'll get it all."

"Don't worry about it too much," Mason said, "The money isn't the main thing right now. We need to make sure this project doesn't hit Russian hands."

"Or American," Karen said, "Plane will be ready when we get there."

"The Russians aren't a problem," Jim told them, "I fully penetrated their systems and left a few land mines. If the research hits their stuff... Well, let's say it's going to be a bad day for Russia's computer networks."

"Good," Mason nodded, "Let's just hope we can stop Bolantine's project before he kills anyone else."

Chapter 49 – Spetznaz is Coming

"Sir!" Zanzarin yelled as he ran into the room, "I just caught this dispatch over the wires. I think they forgot that we're still on the Spetznaz network."

He handed Larion Mishkin the copy of the orders that had been authorized by President Kabalin himself. Mishkin wasn't surprised that the orders had been cut, but he was surprised that they had let him know they were coming. They were on their way to take him and his people into custody and to bring in all the research.

"Get Bolantine," Mishkin said, "The orders for our arrest have been cut. They figured out we were involved."

"How?" Zanzarin asked, "I mean..."

"The agent and possibly the test subject," Mishkin said, "Maybe even got a line on me. I don't know, but we aren't going down without a fight."

"I'll get the A team started on reanimation," Zanzarin said, "What else do we do?"

"Arm everyone," Bolantine said when he walked in, "How long?"

"No more than a day or two," Mishkin said, "Depends on how long they decide to plan."

"We need Natalia," Bolantine said, "Are they ready to reanimate her?"

"Probably not," Mishkin said, "But we can try. We may not get a second chance."

"If Spetznaz is about to show up the test subject won't be far behind," Bolantine said, "Where is Ronco?"

"He was supposed to kill that idiot investigator," Mishkin said, "Any word on where he is, Zanzarin?"

"The investigator is dead," Zanzarin said, "I helped Ronco put the body in with our test subjects. The Australian psycho is probably off raping one of our nurses."

"Just make sure he's here somewhere," Bolantine told them, "He will likely be the one we use as a patsy."

"Right," Mishkin said, "I take it that we're only taking a select few people?"

"That's why we have the old reliable prop plane," Bolantine said, "We can slip that thing under the radar and leave everyone else behind to fight Spetznaz."

"Who is working on data recovery?" Zanzarin asked.

"Nikki," Bolantine said, "With the help of a few of your people."

"Zanzarin," Mishkin said, "You prepare the defenses. I want that army reanimated in twelve hours. Get the special patches sent out and let everyone know that people who don't have them in twelve hours are targets."

"What are you going to do?" Zanzarin asked him.

"I'm going to work on the B protocol," Mishkin said, "While Bolantine assists you with the preparations."

"And while we try to find Ronco," Bolantine said, "I want him here when Spetznaz shows up."

"I think we have a plan," Mishkin said, "God help us all."

"God," Bolantine chuckled, "I seriously doubt he wants anything to do with this. Help yourself. Don't rely on God to do it."

Chapter 50 – The Briefing

"Ronald Coleridge is a psychopath," Claire summed up for the group of Russian commanders, "He has been using these funds that he has made with tissue sales to keep your base alive."

"How did you find out about our base?" Commander Zorov asked.

"Ronco went there," Claire said, "I tracked him to your army bases."

"It was one of Putin's programs," Storonoff said, "We've been trying to investigate it for months, but everyone we've assigned has died. We should have noticed that sooner."

"That combined with his trip to Iran..." Claire said, "Diary of a madman."

"We were going to take Mishkin in custody anyway," Zorov said, "I've adjusted the orders. What do your superiors want in return for this information?"

"Same thing yours do," Claire told them, "This project stopped and Ronco in custody. We'd like to have him stand trial in the US for the deaths of the Secret Service agents. Mishkin you can do with what you will."

"That's it?" Storonoff asked, "Why so magnanimous?"

"We are considering this your issue," Claire said, "We simply want the same thing. Justice."

"Fair enough," Zorov said, "Let your superiors know we will have this in hand soon."

"I will do so," Claire said and then thought better of it, "I would like one thing, however. I've been chasing this son of a bitch for a month. I would like to observe the Spetznaz takedown. If he goes down, I can identify the body."

"I think this will be a good idea," Storonoff agreed, "It will prove that there is true cooperation against these lunatics."

"The orders are cut," Zorov said, "I'll hold them back long enough for Ms. Robinette to join them. You must stay back and let my men do their work."

"I'm no hero," Claire said, "I'll stay with your medics. I have some medical training, and you're likely to need help there."

"Get moving," Storonoff said, "I'll have you brought to the airfield. They will be leaving in twelve hours."

"I'll be ready," Claire promised, "Time enough for me to make my report and get a few hours of rest."

"They will let you use a cot at the base," Storonoff promised, "Thank you for this information."

"It's been a pleasure," Claire smiled.

Chapter 51 – The B Protocol

"What is the condition of the body?" Mishkin asked as they rolled the box into the room, "How much damage?"

"Two gunshots," the orderly said, "She prepped well and that Australian lunatic kept her nice and cold."

"We're using the B serum on her," Mishkin said, "No hypnoscine has been introduced, correct?"

"None," he said, "Blood cleaning only. Ten units of new flush has been through her. We haven't shocked her yet, but we have done the normal flushing."

"Good," Mishkin said, "Has the B serum been created?"

"Yes," the orderly said, "It's ready. Are you sure about doing this without hypnoscine?"

"Yes," Mishkin said, "She is one of Bolantine's people, killed in Ireland. This serum becomes unstable with Hypnoscine. She should be controllable without it."

"Repairs on her tissues are complete," the orderly said, "This is the tougher way to do it."

"More sure," Mishkin said, "So long as she's not been down too long she should come back pretty well."

"You're bringing her back now?" Ronco yelled, running into the room, "I thought we were going to run another test first!"

"Nice of you to join us," Mishkin said, masking his anger, "We are running out of time. Spetznaz will be here soon."

"Great," Ronco said, "So what do we do now?"

"Prepare," Mishkin said, "Stay out of my way unless I need you to calm her."

"Right," Ronco said, "Good luck, mate."

Mishkin went through the process that he had done dozens of times. The reanimation process was not difficult, but without the regenerative serum it was nearly useless. Unlike the serum they used in the attack in the US this one was less damaging to the body, but without the hypnoscine ability it was a lot less useful for making a soldier.

The B Protocol that they had synthesized was highly unstable. The only person in the room without protective gear was Natalia, as she was not in a state that could be hurt any further. A higher dose of electricity was applied to her body as the serum was introduced to her. She shook violently as it started to work to bring her tissues back to life.

"Work," Mishkin said, "I know you were working."

It was a long few minutes in coming, but when it finally started to take hold she shook harder and her eyes popped open. She screamed in pain and thrashed, but they kept the power on her until the awakening was complete.

"Is she awake?" Ronco asked.

"Natalia," Mishkin said, "Can you hear me?"

"Where am I?" she said in Russian.

"You're at the base," Mishkin said, "Can you move, Natalia?"

"Am I..." Natalia said, "One of your tests?"

"You were dead, Natalia," Ronco said, "They used the B protocol on you to bring you back."

"The test subject..." Natalia said, using Bolantine's name for Mason, "He was the last one I saw."

"He took McIrney," Ronco said, "Muffed the plan in America he did."

"Why did you bring me back?" Natalia asked, "So I could explode in a week?"

"No," Mishkin said, "This formula doesn't have the instability. It also doesn't work with Hypnoscine. The test subject is likely on his way here. We had to try now otherwise we might not have had the chance."

"So he's coming here," Natalia said, "I'll be ready. Get this crap off me!"

"Ronco," Mishkin said, "We will monitor her for a while and prepare another subject."

"I'll stay with her," Ronco said, "It's nice to see you again, kid."

"Likewise," Natalia lied, "How long until we are invaded?"

"Hours," Ronco said.

"Then get my weapons ready," Natalia said, "I need to walk around this place."

"Keep the monitors on," Mishkin said, "They'll work anywhere in the base and let us help you if anything happens."

"Right," Natalia said, not interested.

Mishkin walked off and left Natalia alone with Ronco. She stood up and looked around. She did not feel very well and was angry that she had been used like this. She remembered well the last minutes of her life. She remembered the words coming from Mason's mouth.

"Is Bolantine here?" Natalia asked Ronco, "Or did you do this stupidity on your own?"

"He's here," Ronco said, "What are you going to do?"

"I'll figure that out when I finish looking around," Natalia said, "If the test subject comes here before I explode, I would like to know."

"Right," Ronco said, "Welcome back, Natalia."

"Fuck you, Ronco," Natalia said, "Now get me some clothes!"

Chapter 52 – Air Drop

"Spetznaz is on their way," Jim said, checking his computer, "Probably be there a few hours after us."

"Not good," Mason said, "Too close."

"We have no choice," Karen said, "Glide north if you can."

"Check radios," Mason said, "Everyone hear me?"

"Encryption working," Jim said, "If anyone taps in they'll hear a Ukrainian church service."

"Good," Mason said, "We're getting close to the drop zone."

"Jim," Karen said, "Try not to hit a tree this time."

"I'll be cutting you down this time," Jim promised, "Who's first?"

"You," Mason said, "That way you can't chicken out."

"Not this time," Jim said, "I want my shot at kicking Bolantine in the balls."

"I doubt your aim is that good," Karen said, "Awful small target, you know."

"We're at the drop zone," Mason said, "Lock and load."

Jim nodded and hit the button opening the back of the prop plane. Jim went out first, keeping Mason from having to throw him. Mason and Karen went out together after that, with Mason hitting the button to start the gate closing just as he passed.

They went into freefall and were bounced around by the turbulence. Mason growled but kept himself gliding north towards the base. Karen was very good at it and managed to keep herself on a vaguely northern course. Jim, on the other hand, was completely inept at skydiving and barely managed to do anything other than head straight down.

"Pull the cord you idiot!" Mason yelled into the radio.

Jim managed to right himself enough to pull the cord. He was jerked into the right direction and started to glide down. Mason and Karen managed to pull their cords in a much more organized manner and landed in the snow softly.

"No!" Jim yelled, "Not the damned..."

"Watch out for that tree!" Karen yelled.

Jim tried mightily, but his skill at controlling parachutes was minimal at best. He hit the tree full force, managing to impale himself on a branch. Jim groaned and tried to free himself, failing miserably. He growled looked around, waiting for Mason and Karen to show up and make fun of him again.

"What is it with you and trees?" Mason asked when he finally climbed up to release him, "You can't skydive on an open field without hitting the only tree, you know that?"

"I know," Jim groaned, "Just get me down."

"Sure," Mason said, "Hold on!"

"No!" Jim yelled as Mason jumped and grabbed his legs, pulling both of them down to the ground, "Do you have to do that?"

"Yes," Mason said, pulling the branch out of Jim's stomach, "Now get up. We have two miles to cover and we need your expertise to get through the security."

"You are an asshole, you know that?" Jim chuckled as he pulled himself up, "Right. Let's go."

Mason shook his head and looked at Karen. The three of them started walking north. It was a brutal environment, all three of them were freezing by the time they caught sight of the facility.

"No guards," Mason said, "Where are they?"

"No need," Jim said, "Who is going to be dumb enough to come out here?"

"Bolantine is probably expecting us," Karen said.

"The guards will be inside," Jim said, "It's too cold for them to patrol the outside with anything but cameras."

"I'd rather deal with a living guard," Mason said, "How are we getting in?"

"Missile silo," Jim said, "One place that won't be directly guarded."

"How so?" Mason asked, "Why wouldn't they guard it."

"Plutonium radiation makes for a nasty place to guard," Jim said, "No one in their right mind would go near it."

"Plutonium?" Mason and Karen said together.

"Bolantine is sitting on top of a pile of nuclear weapons?" Mason asked him, "How the hell?"

"The Russian nuclear program is a mess," Jim said, "The weapons can't fly. It would take a direct hit from a bullet to fire one off. They're also leaking radiation like no one's business. They make perfect protection."

"I wonder if Bolantine knows that," Karen said, "Think he'd be playing with this if he knew he could get a nuke?"

"I doubt he knows," Jim said, "I doubt anyone here knows they are sitting on weapons grade plutonium."

"How do you know?" Mason asked him.

"I have access to the Kremlin computers," Jim said, "Mishkin doesn't. They just know that it was once a nuclear silo."

"Good," Mason said, "So that's our entrance. No one who isn't immortal is going in there."

"Not coming out alive," Jim said, "Ready for Chernobyl part two?"

"Where's the nearest silo?" Mason asked him.

Jim did a quick survey with the GPS unit and plotted the best path to the silo entrance. It was only a half kilometer to the northeast. They walked up there quietly and found the snow covered entrance to the silo. The radiation kept the snow off, but it was sealed shut.

"Plan B?" Mason asked Jim.

"We go in the back way," Jim said, "Follow me."

Jim went around the large silo and found a small access tube. It had been designed to withstand the elements and due to the high radiation level had been left open because no one wanted to take the time or risk to lock it. Jim pushed it open and showed the massive empty space down into the ground.

"Jim," Mason said, "How long is your computer going to last down here?"

"It's already dead," Jim said, tapping the device, "We're on our own from here."

"No we aren't," Mason said, "You aren't dumb. You printed out the maps."

"Of course I did," Jim smiled, "Down to the bottom via this ladder. There's an entrance inside."

"How much radiation are we bringing with us?" Karen asked.

"Not too much," Jim said, "We'll have to discard the clothes when we leave. I don't expect to care too much about how many of them live."

"Let's go," Mason said, "Down to the bottom."

It took twenty minutes for the three of them to climb down the ladder and they only made it half way down to a platform used to maintain the missile. Jim's intelligence had been right, they were hot and they were also not particularly capable of anything at this point. The missile silo was flooded down past the maintenance platform.

Jim looked over the side and saw a body floating down there in the green irradiated water. Mason looked down as well and shook his head. He didn't like the look of the water.

"Who is the corpse?" Jim asked, "That wasn't in the records."

"The last agent," Mason said, "Looks like they found him."

"Bastards," Karen said, "Where to now?"

"Inside," Jim said, "The main facility."

"Let's do it," Mason said, "We're running out of time."

"You are so right," Natalia said, "Hello test subject!"

Chapter 53 – Natalia

"Oh shit," Jim said, "Didn't I..."

"I told you to look behind," Mason told Natalia, "They let you keep your mind, eh?"

"They were stupid," Natalia said, "That and the formula they used me for a guinea pig on is unstable with hypnoscine."

"So why are you here?" Mason asked her, "You know this area is highly radioactive?"

"I don't care," Natalia said, "I know what you are. Mishkin's security people aren't expecting you."

"So you don't worry," Mason said, "About Radiation thick enough to kill?"

"I should be doubled over already," Natalia said, "Dying just like the man at the bottom of the shaft."

"So what did they do differently on you than on the others?" Jim asked, "The others were nothing but mindless automatons. You seem very different."

"I don't know what they call it," Natalia said, "I do know it's given me the chance for one thing."

"Payback?" Mason asked, "You really think you can do anything lasting to us?"

"Sure," Natalia said, "See that nuke behind you?"

Mason turned around. He didn't like the look of the package attached to it. Natalia smiled and held up a detonator. She looked at the three of them with a smile on her face. Karen sighed and looked at Mason. Jim shook his head and had a strange smile.

"You think we're afraid of a nuke?" Jim asked her, "After all that we've been through?"

"Vaporization," Natalia said, "All of us gone in a heartbeat."

"Why would you want to do that?" Mason asked her, "That would take you too."

"You think I want to live like this?" Natalia said, "Living forever, until my body decides to go off like the time bomb it is?"

"Then push the button," Jim said, "End it for all of us."

"You don't believe I will," Natalia said, "I am already dead."

"Jim," Mason said, "Don't push her."

"Go stop Bolantine," Jim said, "I'll take care of her. I should have aimed for the head the first time."

"Jim," Mason said again, "You're out of your mind."

"So is she," Jim said, "Especially since she forgot one thing."

"What's that?" Karen said.

"Enlighten me," Natalia said, "I'd love to hear it."

"Alpha radiation kills electronics and interferes with Radio signals," Jim said as he let off a kick at Natalia's knees, "Your electronic detonator is useless."

Natalia groaned and pushed the button. Jim was right. The radiation caused by years of plutonium leaks and nuclear disposal was blocking the ability for the radio waves to go to the now defunct electronic detonator. It did little but click and do nothing.

Mason kicked Natalia in the solar plexus and let off a rough set of punches into her throat. Karen got behind Natalia and hit the ground, bracing herself to become a tripping block. Mason and Jim pushed the fighting woman against the missile.

"Where is Bolantine?" Mason asked her.

"I don't know," Natalia seethed, "You can't kill me anymore than I can kill you."

"No?" Mason said, "You're running hot, kid. You're dying. Again."

"You first!" Natalia shouted and kicked back trying to get free.

She managed to push her way out and use the adrenalin rush to beat on Jim for a moment. Mason tried to pull her off him and caught a kick to his nether regions for the trouble. Karen, remembering her fights with the zombies in Colorado, picked up a bar from the ground and hit her in the base of her neck.

Natalia shuddered and reeled back. Her body started racing and Mason knew what was probably coming. Jim rolled away from her and Mason had a perfect shot, which he used to send Natalia off the platform into the irradiated water. Natalia screamed and flailed and finally went silent as she started to sink.

"Where did you learn that one?" Mason asked her.

"Colorado," Karen said, "It worked on the ones out there."

"What now?" Jim said, rasping.

"Bolantine," Mason said, "Let's go."

Chapter 54 – Attack

"I'm not used to taking an American on missions," Major Lozarin said, "What are you looking for?"

"Ronald Coleridge," Claire Robinette told him, "Per agreement between our presidents Ronco comes with me to the US to stand trial. Mishkin is yours to do with what you will."

"Just stay out of the way until we secure the base," Lozarin reminded her, "You may be a good agent, but you aren't combat trained. We don't know what Mishkin has available."

"Expect more of what attacked the presidents," Claire warned, "I'll stay with your medics. Just make sure that you don't get us all killed."

"I have forty hardened veterans of the conflict in Chechnya," Lozarin informed her, "This crew can hold off a small army."

"I hope so," Claire nodded, "If what happened in Colorado is any indication you may have to."

The Russian attack choppers, all five of them, flew quickly towards the base. They flew low, but not low enough to avoid a spotter. The guard ran inside and shouted the general alarm. Raid alarms went off throughout the base.

"What is it?" Bolantine asked, "Who is attacking?"

"It's the Spetznaz group," Mishkin said, "Looks like a full group. Five attack choppers."

"They're underestimating us," Ronco said, "We have more people."

"Most of them are scientists," Mishkin said, "Most of these people will not fight Spetznaz."

"Right," Bolantine said, "No reason for them to. If they figure out what we've been up to they may fight us instead. We tell them it's an outside attack. We'll send out those zombies you've been regurgitating en masse."

"I'll get started," Zanzarin said, "I hope you have an escape route ready?"

"Plane on the tarmac," Bolantine said, "We take the core if we have to."

"We'll have to," Mishkin said, "You know they won't give up."

"Go help Nikki," Bolantine said, "Get all data that we've worked for here. We have the Iranian's money and I can get most of what is in the accounts here out before they track it all. We'll restock and rebuild in South America."

"What about me, mate?" Ronco said.

"We let the heat die down and you start your tissue trade again," Bolantine told him, "In the meantime you come with us and stay out of the way."

"How many do we take?" Mishkin asked.

"B Serum team," Bolantine said, "A is better documented, but the B squad is better. They'll make a good core."

"If they go," Mishkin said, "They're mostly loyal Russians."

"Whose government left them behind to die," Bolantine said, "Besides, when they find out that the government has branded them all traitors they'll be willing to go."

"Where's Natalia?" Ronco asked, "She would be good to lead the zombies."

"I had another project for her," Bolantine said, "My guess is that we will have some other unwelcome visitors. I sent her to their most likely entrance."

"The test subject?" Mishkin said, "Here?"

"Probably," Bolantine said, "There was a plane that flew too damn low about an hour ago. They are too damn resourceful to let us go without a fight."

"So why are we still here?" Ronco asked, "Why aren't we disappearing."

"We leave now and the FSB has us shot down," Bolantine said, "We wait until their attack fails and we disappear in the chaos. Natalia will stop the test subject."

"Three against one?" Ronco asked, "That's insane."

"So is Natalia," Bolantine shrugged, "And I don't expect her to succeed for long, simply to slow them down."

"Great," Ronco said, "I'm going to die here."

"Only if you're stupid," Bolantine said, "Now go protect Mishkin and Nikki while we start the attack."

Ronco glared at Bolantine but finally gave way and went towards the lab area. Bolantine looked at Mishkin and shrugged his shoulders. Mishkin didn't like the way things were going.

"This is falling apart," Mishkin said, "Ronco is an open sore."

"I know," Bolantine smiled, "That's why he's staying here as the scapegoat. Him and what's left of Natalia can fight the test subject and the second wave."

"Fine," Mishkin said, "He's your dog. Keep him on a leash. A short one."

Bolantine could only smile malevolently.

Chapter 55 – A Zombie Horde

Major Lozarin fired the last of his weapons at a group of the zombies. His group was vastly outnumbered and they were losing ground to the poorly organized hordes. It was a tactic he knew well, they taught it in the officer training school when they showed how they won the Great Patriotic War.

"Retreat!" Lozarin yelled, "There's too many of them!"

"Go for their heads!" Claire yelled, "Only way you'll slow them down!"

"You're supposed to be with the medics," Lozarin yelled at her, "Get back there."

"They break through we're all dead," Claire said, pulling out a clip and tossing it to him, "I'm the only one here who has studied these fuckers. Their bodies are like pincushions. Only way to slow them down is to break their heads."

"Bodies are easier shots!" Lozarin said, "I want sure kills!"

Claire growled and lifted her weapon. She remembered what Karen told her over the link about the zombies going down with head shots. She fired three perfectly aimed shots at the heads three zombies. They exploded in a blast of bloody goo.

"See what I'm talking about?" Claire asked him.

"Head shots!" Lozarin yelled, "Now!"

Claire retreated a bit, firing occasionally. They were fighting to a standstill, but there were simply too many of them pouring out of the base. The Russians kept firing and the zombies kept pouring out. Lozarin couldn't figure out what to do next.

"This is insane," Lozarin said, "We need fire."

"I can mix up some cocktails," one of his men said.

"Do it," Lozarin said, "Robinette! Cover him! You're better than you look and I can't throw away any help now."

"You got it," Claire said, "Let's go."

"Keep them going," Lozarin yelled, "We need to get into that base."

Chapter 56 – The Riot Squad

"Mason," Karen said, "I hope you have some sort of plan."

"I figured we'd wing it," Mason shrugged, "Jim, I want you to go after the research. You know what's important and what isn't. Do what you have to do to sabotage the research here."

"I can do that," Jim said, "Do I spare the lethal force?"

"That's up to you," Mason said, "There are no innocents left in this building."

"I doubt most of them know what they are working on," Karen said, "I think we should try to avoid a bloodbath."

"Most of the knowledge is held by the people," Mason said, "If killing everyone in this building is the only way to keep this discovery under wraps..."

"You're thinking like Bolantine," Karen warned him, "I don't want to go down that road."

"You have a better idea?" Mason asked her.

"Yes," Karen said, "These are mostly patriotic Russians. I'm betting Bolantine only corrupted the core. He isn't that charismatic that he could convert an entire base without the Russians finding out."

"Good point," Mason said, "Where are you going with it?"

"Confront them," Karen said, "Call Bolantine out in front of everyone."

"If nothing else it will be a diversion," Jim suggested, "Karen and I can go through the labs and start destroying research."

"It's worth a shot," Mason agreed, "It would certainly be a tactic that Bolantine wouldn't expect out of us."

"He obviously knows we're here," Karen reminded him, "Natalia wouldn't have been there otherwise."

"Ok," Mason said, "I'm going to go make some noise."

"Any instructions?" Karen smiled.

"If anyone tries to stop you," Mason said, "Oh hell, you'll do what you want to anyway. Just make sure you destroy all this shit."

"Right," Karen said, "Let's go, Jim. We have some havoc to make."

"Ok," Jim said, "Have fun, Mase."

"Loads," Mason said as he headed towards the populated areas of the base.

Chapter 57 – Radioactivity

Natalia managed to wake up despite the fact that she was ten feet down in highly radioactive water. She pushed up and managed to breathe a bit. She felt lousy and knew she wouldn't be living too much longer. She was angry with Mason, Karen, and Jim, but even more so at the ones who used her.

She managed to get to the wall where there was a corroded ladder. She still had strength enough in her body to pull herself up on to the metal and crawl up the ladder to the platform she had fallen from earlier. She breathed raggedly, knowing that the radioactive water had caused some serious problems on top of what the reanimation process had already done to her.

"Baaastards," Natalia rasped.

She rested for a few moments and managed to stand up. She was unsteady and her sight was clouded by contact with the radioactive water. She managed to make her way to a mirror and saw what the water had done to her. She looked like something out of a George Romero movie and was more than a little angry about that.

"Must..." She tried to say, but found her voice failing, "Must... Kill... Bolantine..."

She instinctively knew that it wasn't possible, but she wanted to try anyway. She went over to the nuclear missile that she had tried to set off earlier. She removed the explosive satchel and opened the missile's hatch. It was leaking radiation badly, but she had little to lose.

There was an old cart still there from when the missiles had actively been maintained. She pulled it up to the platform and pulled the core of the missile out and dragged it over to the cart. She found a pistol and knew that if she shot the thing it would explode and her pain would be over, as well as most of the base would be gone. She, however, wanted to ensure that no one survived, especially Ronco and Bolantine.

She loaded the pistol and started pushing the cart slowly up the long tunnel towards the base. It was so slow that she was sure that she would die first, but she knew that as long as she had strength to hold the pistol she would be able to set off the weapon. She just wanted to do it in a place where they all knew why they were going to die.

Chapter 58 – Rioting

Bolantine knew that things were starting to get hairy. The Spetznaz were gaining ground against the zombie horde and people were starting to realize things were not right. He decided that it was getting towards time to depart this facility.

"Nikki," Bolantine said, "How much time do you need?"

"The B team is still getting their stuff together," Nikki said, "I've lost the outside network connections, so I can't do any more offshore backups."

"Damn," Bolantine said, "Jump drives?"

"I've filled four of them," Nikki said, "We have the data. What is the next step?"

"To get out of here," Bolantine said, "The Russians learned something from the Americans on killing our creatures. We are running out of time."

"People are gathering in the common area," Mishkin said, "They're trying to figure out what is going on."

"We need to keep them going," Bolantine said, "We need someone to keep this place functioning while we make an escape."

"Where's Ronco?" Mishkin said, "You're going to throw him to the wolves anyway!"

"I don't know," Bolantine said, "I haven't seen Natalia either."

While the inner core of the group was debating Mason Stone had found them. He saw that there was a group of scientists in the common area trying to determine what was going on. He found one of the security rooms and went in there.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Mason asked them in Russian.

"Fighting invaders," they said, "Who are you?"

"My name isn't important," Mason said, "You are killing fellow countrymen. Russian soldiers."

"What?" one of the soldiers asked, "You're lying."

"Look out there!" Another one said said, "They are wearing Spetznaz uniforms. You're on a Russian base! Why would the Spetznaz be attacking?"

"Because Mishkin used Russian technology to try to kill both the American and Russian presidents," Mason told them, "To them, you are the traitors!"

"No," they said, "It can't..."

"Think about it," Mason said, "Where would any ragtag band get Russian transport and that many pristine Spetznaz uniforms?"

"Oh no," another soldier said, "Mishkin..."

"He played you," Mason told them as the realization dawned, "Open the gates. Let everyone know who they are fighting."

"I'm getting out of here!" one soldier said, "I suggest we all do the same!"

Mason watched as sheer panic set in among them. He then went over and started deactivating security systems and putting the outside cameras on the public monitors. He then found the announcement microphone and started talking to everyone in the base.

"What the hell?" Bolantine shouted, "What is..."

"Test subject!" Nikki exclaimed, "That bastard is going to start this place rioting!"

"Stop him!" Mishkin yelled.

"Stop the others," Bolantine said, "I'll go handle the test subject myself. If he's here then his friends are probably trying to trash the research."

"Right," Nikki said, "I'll go to the labs. Mishkin, try to regain control of your people!"

"Easier said than done," Mishkin said, "I suggest you consider pulling us out soon."

"Not until the Spetznaz die!" Bolantine said testily, "We leave before then and we're getting shot down."

Bolantine ran towards the security room while Mason continued talking. The images he had routed to the monitors were having their intended effect, however, as the staff of the base had turned on each other. None of them wanted to be thought of as traitors.

It was pandemonium in the common areas. Mishkin tried to go out and regain order, but he found that there was no way he could do anything but become a target. He ended up hiding in a vending machine room to avoid being lynched by the angry crowd.

Chapter 59 – Claire's Mistake

Claire Robinette watched as the rest of the Spetznaz went into the base. The medics were busy dealing with casualties but kept Claire out of the way because she was still too intent on dealing damage to any zombies who managed to pour out.

"What is going on in there?" Claire asked Lozarin when he came out, "Where is everyone?"

"Rioting," Lozarin said, "We're going to make a push to finish this off."

"That's a mistake," Claire said, "What about the innocents?"

"There is no one innocent in there," Lozarin said, "Now get out of my way."

Claire knew that things weren't going well. She considered taking off, but she knew that they were in the middle of Siberia. She tried to convince people to leave, but there was no one willing to go. She then saw someone trying to crawl out of a ventilation shaft.

She picked up a weapon and went over to the opening to see Ronco trying to get out of the building that was starting to be overrun. He crawled out to see Claire Robinette aiming a Russian pistol at his head.

"Hey," Ronco said, "There's no need for that, pretty lady."

"Yes there is, Ronco," Claire said, "You're under arrest."

"You're kidding, right?" Ronco laughed, "Out here? You've got to be out of your bloody mind!"

Claire squeezed the trigger and put a bullet into Ronco's arm. Ronco grunted and almost screamed like a little girl. He fell back into the ventilation shaft and used the opportunity to go back into the base. Claire used the one weapon she felt comfortable using there, a fragmentation grenade that she pulled the pin on and dropped down the shaft.

Ronco hit the ground and ran down the shaft as Claire's grenade rattled to a stop. It exploded and caused the cavern to shake and break apart. Ronco managed to escape the collapse but knew that he wouldn't last long inside so he went back into the base.

The ventilation shaft broke apart and started a reaction in the rock that had been weakened by years of building and radiation abuse. The base started cracking and crunching. The lack of ventilation let the fires inside start making the base into a smoky mess. It was the beginning of the end for the base, started by a single failed attempt to kill one Australian lunatic.

Chapter 60 – Clash of Immortals

"I must give you credit, test subject," Bolantine said as he walked into the smoky security room, "You are persistent beyond any realm of reason."

"It doesn't compare to the depths of evil you are capable of, Bolantine," Mason said, "Didn't you learn anything while you were trapped in Marden Mine?"

"I learned that only the bold survive," Bolantine said, "Same things I learned in Chicago as a youth and in Seattle as an adult."

"Endicott Bolantine," Mason said, remembering the files, "Born 1910 in Chicago. Killed your mother at age sixteen for trying to mold you into a gentleman who could overcome your poor roots. Dropped the Endicott early, despising the name. Worked for Scarface Al until he went to prison in 1931. Moved to Seattle and brutally reigned as the crime lord there until your odd disappearance."

"You've done your homework," Bolantine said, "And I know so little about you."

"You never were that good at doing anything but killing the opposition," Mason agreed, "Too bad you aren't as good at being an international criminal as you were at being a thug."

"I was an exceptional thug!" Bolantine exclaimed, "You were nothing! Nothing! You were a byproduct of what brought me immortality!"

"I am also the price you pay for it," Mason smiled, "You really think you'll be able to stop me?"

"I will stop you!" Bolantine yelled, "I will rule the world!"

"I doubt it," Mason said, "You're done here."

"I knew that," Bolantine said, "It was time to move on anyway. But, I have something to do first, it seems."

"You aren't going to try to beat the hell out of me for no reason again, are you?" Mason asked him, "Haven't you learned how futile that is?"

"No," Bolantine said, "I'm just going to kick your ass and drop you in a hole like you did me!"

"You're welcome to try," Mason said, "You won't have a chance to succeed."

"Let's see about that," Bolantine said, "You don't have the US government behind you this time."

Mason stood still for a few moments and watched Bolantine advance. It was pathetic actually, as Bolantine still had not taken the time to learn enough martial arts to be a proper opponent for Mason. Mason knocked off a few blows and tripped Bolantine, sending the former crime lord into a wall.

"You're going to pay for that, test subject," Bolantine seethed, "You're going to pay for it all!"

Mason played defense. It was a familiar aspect for him. He knew that as long as Bolantine kept fighting him there would be less chance that he could stop Karen and Jim from destroying the research labs. Bolantine grabbed whatever weapon he could find to start attacking Mason again.

While Mason and Bolantine were fighting Karen and Jim found the main labs. The A lab, the more populated ones, were already the scene of a massive riot. Jim simply put on a lab coat and made sure that the computers were completely destroyed. Karen went over to the B lab to find Nikki in there trying to get the data and hard drives packed up.

"And what do you intend to do with that?" Karen asked her.

"You're too resourceful for your own good," Nikki said, turning around to face her, "You know that?"

"I try," Karen said, "You're not going to profit on the misery you have caused."

"Oh don't give me that crap!" Nikki told her, "You profit on misery just like everyone else. You weren't in Africa on a peacekeeping tour!"

"Maybe not," Karen agreed, "But we're going to stop your lunatic plans this time."

"Always the little moralist," Nikki said, "I take it that your lovely little boyfriend is the one who stirred up the Russians too."

"I think your moronic plan to kill the president did that," Karen said, "You really think you can kill two world leaders and get away with it?"

"We did get away with it!" Nikki told her, "Now get out of my way."

"No," Karen said, "I let you go last time. I'm not letting you get away with information on how to build the next zombie."

"Do you really think you can stop me without the U.S. Government coming to back you up?" Nikki asked her, "You have nothing!"

"Just Chaos on my side," Karen said, "And the fact that I'm not going to let you take anything with you."

"Just try to stop me," Nikki said, "Get out of my way."

"I don't think so," Karen said and pulled a grenade out of her pocket, "Drop the case, Nikki. Or I'll splatter you and the records all over the place."

"You're bluffing," Nikki said, "You don't have the guts."

"Here," Karen said and pulled the pin, "Time to find out."

Karen tossed the grenade at Nikki and ducked behind a desk. Nikki reacted and tried to jump out of the way. She knew the grenade would not do permanent damage, but she didn't want to be incapacitated with Karen around. The blast threw her head over heels and Karen got up quickly.

Karen threw another one into the chemical cabinet, starting a fire that quickly engulfed the laboratory area. Nikki got up and tried to get to the files she had been trying to take, but Karen was quicker and got to her. She decided it was time to stop being ladylike and punched Nikki in the stomach.

"You're not taking it!" Karen yelled at her, "Now give it up!"

"Never!" Nikki groaned and jammed a shard of wood into Karen's knee, "Die!"

"You first!" Karen shouted as she slammed Nikki's head into the corner of the table.

As the fight between Karen and Nikki continued Bolantine was trying to beat on Mason the same way that Karen was trying to stop Nikki. Mason wasn't having any of it. He had no reason to slow down so he threw Bolantine into a monitor, watching with a bit of guilty pleasure as Bolantine was temporarily electrocuted.

"How do you like that, Endicott?" Mason yelled, "Having fun now!"

"No one calls me that and lives," Bolantine growled, "Time for me to drop you in a hole, test subject."

Mason got into a stance and waited for Bolantine's clumsy attack. He stood his ground and used a simple judo move to push Bolantine over. Mason then grabbed Bolantine's shoulder and slammed his head into the keyboard onto the table repeatedly.

"My name is Mason, asshole," Mason yelled into Bolantine's ear between mashing his head into the plastic, "I am nobody's test subject anymore. Do you hear me?"

Mason then threw Bolantine across the room into a large computer stand. Bolantine slumped down on the floor and sat there for a few moments as his body managed to heal. He stood up and started considering fighting again. It was at this point he heard the screams of panic and the noise from the common room came to a stop.

Chapter 61 – Natalia's Last Stand

The scientists could only watch as the horrible thing that had once been Natalia pushed the nuclear weapon into the common room. She was in terrible condition as her body was continuing to deteriorate. The B protocol wasn't as reactively explosive as the A protocol, but between that and the radiation she was slowly and surely deteriorating.

She knew she didn't have long left, but she was determined to make sure that Mishkin and the immortals knew what they had done and why she was going to blow them to hell. Every one of the scientists knew what she was pushing and they could do little but watch. Natalia's rotting fingers still had a firm grip on the gun.

"Natalia!" Ronco yelled as he came back into the room, "What are you doing?"

"Ronco," Natalia rasped, "I'd thought you would already have found an escape you little opportunist..."

She paused for a moment and listened as the building cracked some more and some more drywall fell on top of them. She laughed and realized that the Spetznaz had penned them in. It didn't matter anymore; she intended to make sure that all of them paid for what had happened to her.

"You don't want to do that, Natalia," Ronco said, "You'll kill us all."

"Get Mishkin and Bolantine," Natalia rasped, "I want them here now or I'll bring the whole building and a good couple miles around it down."

"Get them," Ronco hissed at a scientist, "Natalia, we can talk about this."

Bolantine and Mason saw this sight through the monitor. They knew it wasn't a good development, but they handled it differently. Bolantine took off through the hallway. Mason went towards the common room to see whether there was a way to keep her from setting off that weapon.

Ronco wanted to run but knew from the look on Natalia's melting face that if he tried it she would fire the gun. He knew his best hope was to stall and hope that the crowd would take care of Mishkin and Natalia long enough for him to get out.

Bolantine ran towards the back entrance and killed a guard who was in his way. He took the guard's weapon and used it on Karen who was still fighting with Nikki. Nikki looked at Bolantine and breathed a sigh of relief, kicking Karen's rapidly healing body.

"Natalia has a nuke," Bolantine said, firing a quick shot into Karen's face to keep her down, "We need to leave. Now."

"Right," Nikki said, "But the data..."

"Will be lost if we don't leave," Bolantine said, "Mason is here and probably not far behind. Let him deal with Natalia. We need to go!"

Nikki nodded and followed Bolantine out the door. Jim Entragian saw them pass, but decided that he'd better go get Karen. Karen was still slumped over on the ground as her brain stem regenerated. Jim helped her off the ground and pulled the bullet out of her neck so that the healing would happen faster.

"Natalia has a..." Jim started and realized Karen already knew.

"Bolantine told Nikki," Karen said, "We need to stop her from setting it off."

"She'll kill everyone," Jim agreed, "Possibly even us."

"Let's go," Karen said, "Mason is probably in the common room."

"Too bad you two will be staying here," Zanzarin said as he shut the automatic door, "Rot here for eternity!"

Jim ran to the door but Zanzarin had set it for lockdown. It was going to take a lot more explosives than they had to break it open anytime soon. The fact that the ceiling was already falling apart didn't give them much hope that they were going to be safe.

"We need to get out," Karen said, "Any ideas, Jim?"

"This is a nuclear facility," Jim said, "There should be a set of vents. This is meant to be a safe room that they converted into a lab."

"Look for the grate," Karen said, "Come on."

"There it is!" Jim exclaimed, "Get that torch!"

While Jim and Karen were trying to get out of the lab Mason had arrived in the common room to see what was left of Natalia. He also saw Mishkin trying to slide out of the room. Mason went over and grabbed Mishkin by the neck and dragged him into the center of the room.

"This the cretin you're looking for, Natalia?" Mason asked her.

"One of them," Natalia said, "See what you created, Mishkin!"

"I..." Mishkin said, "I did what I had to do!"

"No you didn't," Mason said, "You embraced a monster, Mishkin. This is the result. How many people do you have under you command?"

"A hundred," Mishkin said, "I did what I could to keep our research going!"

"You sold out to the only bidder," Mason told him, "And now you're sitting next to a nuke that Natalia is probably going to use to wipe us off the face of the earth."

"Feeling suicidal, Mason?" Natalia asked, "You must to be standing here..."

"For once someone remembers my name," Mason chuckled and cocked his head as he listened to the fighting subside in the entrance, "I'm not suicidal. I wouldn't mind living some more. But, I can't sit here and watch you kill one hundred Russians, most of whom had no part in Mishkin and Bolantine's game. Kill Mishkin, Kill Ronco, try to kill me. But, if you set that thing off you're going to kill thousands. The people here, the Spetznaz attacking, the people who will get sick from the fallout. It isn't worth it, Natalia."

"Good speech, Mason," Natalia chuckled as she coughed, "You forgot one thing..."

"What's that?" Mason asked.

"I am a psychopath," Natalia said simply, "I want to kill you all!"

Natalia's finger started to squeeze the trigger, but she was caught with a racking cough. Surprisingly, it was Ronco who jumped her and started fighting with her for the gun. Mason knew at that point there was no way he could save everyone. He made a run for it, heading towards the sound of a closing blast door that Bolantine had triggered as he and Nikki used a back entrance to leave the place.

Mason ran past a number of tired surviving Spetznaz who were working on their bosses' injuries. Lozarin saw Mason and started to shout, but there was no talking to Mason. He ran as fast as he could and saw the closing door. He jumped through and almost made it, his right arm getting caught in the closing mechanism.

Karen and Jim knew from the commotion in the common room they were running out of time. They managed to make a full breakthrough and climbed into the tunnel. They ran as fast as they could towards the light at the end of that tunnel, knowing they wanted to be as far from the blast as they could manage.

Bolantine and Nikki were already outside, starting to fire up a small plane they had hidden in a hangar for this purpose. They hoped to get out of the way before the nuclear weapon went off. Little did they know how close it would be.

Mason screamed but tore off his right arm to get away from that door and ran into the cold snowy terrain. He saw people and shouted for them to run. He knew that someone in that mess would set off the weapon, and at this point he wasn't willing to stop them.

The crowd, knowing now what Mishkin had done attacked him with a vengeance. They beat their former commander senseless and started tearing his limbs off while he was still alive. This was all happening while Ronco and Natalia fought for the gun.

"No!" Ronco said, "I'm not going to die this way!"

Natalia was ready to die and she wasn't going to let Ronco stand in the way. She kicked him in the balls and pulled her rotting gun arm away from him. She pulled the trigger twice and Ronco fell to the floor, his privates blown away. She picked up the weapon and tried to pull the trigger at the nuclear weapon, but her internal stability was gone... She fell to the floor and dropped the weapon.

"She lost..." one scientist said, "Kill Mishkin!"

Ronco knew that he has been emasculated by the second shot. He looked at Natalia's deteriorating body and realized what the rest of his life would be like, peeing like a girl in a Russian prison. He moved over to Natalia and picked up the gun that she dropped. He looked at her and smiled.

"No!" Mishkin yelled, "Don't do it....

Ronco lifted the pistol and aimed it at the nuclear warhead. Unlike Natalia his only injury was causing blood loss, but no loss of control of his muscles. He paused for a moment to watch the crowd beat on Mishkin and saw Zanzarin running towards him to try to take the pistol away. He then tensed his body and looked at the approaching man.

"Too little, too late," Ronco said, "See you in hell, Zanzarin."

He then pulled the trigger and shot the nuclear warhead.

Chapter 62 – Fallout

The bullet pierced the protective shell of the warhead, sending it into critical mass. The weapon, all in a matter of nanoseconds, vaporized and caused the massive fireball to ionize every human being and zombie in the facility. Mishkin, Ronco, Zanzarin, and the scientists were dead before they could register the blast. The Spetznaz inside the building were quickly incinerated by the firewall.

The building, which had already been crumbling underneath the ground, was completely destroyed. The rock fused around the weapon and collapsed on top of the facility. Luckily for Karen and Jim the weapon was so old that the tritium that would have allowed it to go thermonuclear was too impure to do so. The weapon went off as a standard fission bomb similar in nature to the Hiroshima bomb in 1945, enough to destroy the facility but not enough to vaporize the entire grounds.

The pressure from the blast pushed Karen and Jim through the ventilation shaft and fired them out into the air as if they had been fired out of a large gun. They flew over a hundred feet into the air and landed roughly onto the pavement where the fires on their clothes were extinguished by the melting snow.

Mason Stone was thrown by the shockwave across the tarmac, but he'd gotten far enough away to not be hit by the fireball. He was skidding across the tarmac just like a child's doll that had been thrown by an angry toddler. He finally came to rest underneath a truck that had been thoroughly demolished by the blast.

Bolantine and Nikki were actually the furthest away from the blast, preparing their airplane for takeoff. The EMP shorted out every bit of wiring in the plane and caused the fuel tank to explode. That blast threw them back and left them to their own devices without an escape.

Claire Robinette was one of the few normal humans to survive the initial blast. She had been in the helicopter helping treat a young man. She was on the far side of the helicopter going through a bag of medical supplies when the blast happened. The helicopter exploded, but it took the brunt of the blast keeping Claire from dying immediately from the shockwave and fire. She was thrown thirty feet into a snow bank that quickly melted around her as she passed out.

Four Russian satellites went out from the shockwave and the tremors were felt as far away as St. Petersburg, but the rock structure kept the worst of the fallout in the base. This allowed the reeling Russian government to claim that it was an accident in a base they were in the process of decommissioning anyway.

Chapter 63 – Bolantine's Escape

"That did not go well," Nikki said as she sat up and looked at the destruction, "You ok, B?"

"Yeah," Bolantine grunted as he pulled a piece of the airplane out of his abdomen, "Plane is trashed though."

"We need to get out of here," Nikki said, "The Russians will be back soon and we don't want to explain why we aren't suffering from radiation poisoning."

"Not to mention the fact that Mason is still running around," Bolantine said, "We're not lucky enough for him to have been vaporized."

"Right," Nikki said, "Any ideas?"

"Skis," Bolantine said, "There's a set over there. One of the few things the blast didn't destroy."

"Worth a shot," Nikki agreed, "Which way?"

"South," Bolantine said, "Away from this mess."

They moved together and started skiing away from the mess they had made. They knew that their plans for this facility were over. At this point they just hoped they could evade the Russian authorities until they were safely out of the public eye again.

Chapter 64 – Not Going Well

"Jim?" Karen shouted, "Where are you?"

"Up here," Jim yelled back, "The only goddamn tree on the base and I land impaled on it!"

Jim Entragian landed on top of a burned tree and was impaled on one of the top branches. Karen violently shook her head to try to get her vision straight and then stood up. The tree was barely holding up under Jim's weight so she simply kicked it, which sent it falling over and sending Jim careening to the ground.

"Watch out for that tree," Karen grinned.

"I hate trees," Jim groaned, "Any sign of any other survivors?"

"Not yet," Karen said, "Too much fallout to hope that anyone is going to survive for long."

"Blast was underground," Jim said, "Anyone on this base is toast, but it shouldn't spread far."

"I just hope that Mason got out," Karen said, "I can't believe we just survived ground zero of a nuclear blast."

"Should I start singing Christmas at Ground Zero?" Jim asked, "I'd play it if I had signal for my phone."

"Your phone probably shorted out in the EMP," Karen said, "We don't have to worry about anyone pulling data out of there. Computers are fried, any jump disks are dead and the papers were all burned."

"Let's look for Mason," Jim said, "This didn't go well for us."

"No," Karen said, "I was hoping to kill the research, not over a hundred innocent Russian scientists."

"At least it took Mishkin and Ronco," Jim said, "I feel almost as good about that as I did about shooting Elliot so many years ago."

"No one wins in a nuclear pissing contest," Karen reminded him, "Let's find Mason."

They searched around for a while before finding Mason leaning against the truck he ended up under. He was smoking, but this time it was his scorched clothing and not a cigarette that did it. He looked over and shook his head at them.

"You made it out too, huh?" Mason asked them, "That was too close for comfort."

"Maybe it took Bolantine and Nikki?" Karen asked hopefully.

"They just took off to the south," Mason said, "Cross-country skis. About ten minutes ago."

"You didn't try to stop them?" Jim asked.

"What would I do with them if I caught them?" Mason asked him, "They didn't take anything out of here. Anything they had went up in the plane explosion in their hangar."

"Nikki was using jump drives," Karen said, "They would have been fragged by the EMP."

"Exactly," Mason shrugged, "Besides, I doubt we could catch them now. There's no working vehicle here and their tracks will be wiped out by the wind soon. They're gone."

"So what do we do?" Jim asked, "Twiddle our thumbs until the Russians show up?"

"They won't set foot here for at least two days," Mason said, "We check the area for survivors, make sure the research is demonstrably gone, and leave."

"Anyone in the base is dead," Karen said, "We barely got out and any normal human would have been incinerated by it."

"We'll check by the choppers," Mason said, "Even if the Spetznaz are dead we might be able to find enough equipment intact to get ourselves out of here."

"Where were they?" Karen asked.

"Choppers were a half kilometer north," Mason said, "Might be far enough for survivors."

"Let's go," Jim sighed, "I think I'm going to have nightmares for years over this one."

"I think we all are," Karen agreed.

The three of them walked over to the remains of the helicopters. The delicate flying machines were all completely destroyed and knocked over. Most of the people who had not died from the original fighting were lying there dead or dying from the shockwave. None of the living men were still lucid enough to realize what happened to them.

"Something is moving in the remains of the snowbank," Karen said, "Jim, you want to check it out?"

"Yeah," he nodded and went over there, "I got it."

Jim poked around and then saw a leg sticking out of the snowbank. The part that surprised him most was that this leg was moving. He ran over and moved some snow to get the surprise of his life. Claire Robinette was still reasonably intact, the snowbank and the helicopter protecting her from the worst of the explosions.

"Claire!" Jim exclaimed, "Are you alive?"

"I think so," she said and opened her eyes, "What the hell was that?"

"A nuclear explosion," Jim said and then realized, "Oh my god..."

"Bolantine?" Claire asked him.

"Gone," Jim said, avoiding the subject, "Mishkin and Ronco are dead."

"Good," Claire said, "Get me somewhere warm, will you?"

"Mason!" Jim yelled, "Karen! I need help... Claire is here, still alive and lucid!"

"There's still a building intact to the north," Mason said, "I'll carry her."

"I got her," Jim said, not letting Mason do it, "Gather their medical stuff, will you?"

"Yeah," Karen said, "Get to that building."

Jim picked her up carefully and carried Claire north. He had enough adrenalin in his system to keep himself moving. Mason and Karen looked at each other and sighed once Jim had gotten out of earshot. They picked up what medical supplies were still intact enough to use and talked to each other.

"If she was this close," Karen said, "She's not going to live long."

"I think Jim got too close," Mason said, "Let him have his time with her."

"Ok," Karen said, "I don't know..."

"I'll go sit with Jim," Mason said, "You start scouting for transportation."

"Right," Karen said, "Too many died today."

"And not enough," Mason said, thinking about Bolantine and Nikki, "Go search, I'll go sit with Jim. Hopefully he'll make peace with it before she dies."

"I hope so," Karen said, "He doesn't have death to look forward to. He won't lose the pain otherwise."

"I know," Mason said, "Let's allow him to work this out."

"Right," Karen sighed and went off.

Mason silently walked up and watched Jim care for the young agent for a bit. He knew that Jim had to work out on his own just what would happen. He just hoped that Jim would come out of this whole.

Chapter 65 – The Hot Phone

"President Kabalin," President Alex Creighton said over the hot line, "I hope you are recuperating well."

"You as well, President Creighton," Kabalin said, "I have news and it isn't that good."

"We detected a nuclear explosion in central Siberia," Creighton said, "This concerns us."

"It will go down in public as an accident in a decommissioned nuclear storage site," Kabalin said, "It was the removal of a threat to both of our nations."

"Ronald Coleridge's research base?" Creighton said, "What is the status of Ronco?"

"Presumed dead," Kabalin said, "Our Spetznaz reported sighting him on the base along with our friend Mishkin. There was rioting by the scientists. We believe that one of the scientists set off the nuclear weapon."

"Any survivors?" Creighton asked, "They will want to know here?"

"No," Kabalin said, "We estimate that it was a thirty kiloton underground explosion. No one on that base could have survived."

"We'll close the books here," Creighton agreed, "How many did you lose?"

"Forty Spetznaz," Kabalin said, "Another hundred or so on the base. The cancer rates in that region will spike for a few years as well, but there is nothing we can do about that now."

"We can hold someone else accountable," Creighton said, "Camran Alazzi was the one who met with Ronco. We think the Iranians funded it."

"Is that so?" Kabalin said, "I think the Russian Republic will be withdrawing their objection to removing the Iranian nuclear facilities."

"The air strikes are pending," Creighton smiled, "They will be bombed back into the Stone Age. Camran Alazzi will be getting a nice visit from a cruise missile fired from the Persian Gulf as well."

"Fitting end for a rotten man," Kabalin said, "And that should take care of the loose ends. Too bad it had to end with a nuclear blast."

"Regrettable ending," Creighton sighed, "How did we let stuff like this happen?"

"Putin," Kabalin said, "He was just as bad for us as Bush was for you."

"We'll keep cleaning on our end," Creighton promised, "You do the same."

"I've ordered a complete audit on all Putin era programs," Kabalin said, "All immortality research of that type will be suspended. I pledge that you will not have to deal with a threat like that from us again."

"I believe you Aleksandr," Creighton said, "I will personally tell each of the families of the men who died in Colorado that their deaths have been avenged."

"Thank you, Alex," Kabalin agreed, "The men who did this, tried to bring our countries apart. We cannot let this happen."

"Never again," Creighton said, "The cold war died with our parents, Aleksandr. Let's make sure it remains history for our children."

"Agreed," Kabalin told him, "If you ever find the girl... Thank her for me."

"I will," Creighton said, "If you do the same."

Chapter 66 – Cross Country Skis

"Where the hell are we, Bolantine?" Nikki asked him as they continued skiing away from the nuclear site, "Do you have any idea?"

"Nope," Bolantine admitted, "We just need to put some distance between us and that site. Then ditch our radioactive clothing as soon as possible."

"The test subject won again," Nikki grumped, "How the hell did that happen?"

"We attracted too much attention," Bolantine said, "Good money but too many people want to bring you down."

"So what do we do?" Nikki asked him, "I mean we have nothing."

"We have money," Bolantine reminded her, "I think we attacked this thing the wrong way. The key to succeeding will be taking over from the inside."

"I thought that's what we did?" Nikki said curiously, "We subverted the Russian project."

"We forced our way in," Bolantine said, "We relied on their research and warped it to our own needs."

"So what are you suggesting?" Nikki asked him, "Giving up?"

"Hardly," Bolantine said, "There's a time for adventurism, but you can't do it from the beginning. You have to build up to it. We also need to understand better."

"I dropped out of school in the eighth grade, B," Nikki said, "I'm not smart enough for that."

"You're plenty smart," Bolantine said thoughtfully as they kept skiing, "You just never wanted to stay in school."

"What would I have learned there?" Nikki asked, "I wanted to rob people and fuck you."

"Back then, yes," Bolantine said, "I think now we need to be more than just that."

"So what?" Nikki wondered, "You want me to go back to high school? Fat chance!"

"That's exactly what I want you to do," Bolantine smiled, "You can get away with it. I don't look anything like a teenager, never will. But you can realistically pass for anything from fifteen to thirty. Perhaps older because of your Pacific heritage."

"Wait," Nikki stopped, "You're serious? You want me to go to high school? Four years worth of schooling?"

"We've been thinking like mortals," Bolantine said, "We need to think long term. You need to not only finish high school, but you need to learn biomedical physics. You have the aptitude; you just need the formal training."

"This is insane," Nikki said, "Zits, teenagers and boys? God, that's so depressing."

"I know," Bolantine said, "But you have the age and maturity to make use of the opportunity that most kids squander. Not to mention with a cover like that we can get you into any classified program in the country..."

"You want to do this in the US?" Nikki asked, "Bold, B. What are you going to do while I go to school?"

"Build a legitimate front," Bolantine said, "Use the money from the Iranians and buy my way into a legitimate biomedical company."

"I like it," Nikki agreed, "Do I get to put out as a teenager?"

"If you like," Bolantine said, "So long as you don't expect me to remain chaste."

"So long as I get to play with you when we have time off," Nikki chuckled, "I think we'll manage."

"So do I," Bolantine said as they continued skiing towards their new life.

Chapter 67 – Jim and Claire

Jim Entragian did everything he could to make Claire comfortable and to treat her wounds. For someone who had survived a nuclear blast she was in remarkably good physical shape. But, she was going in and out of consciousness and he couldn't figure out why.

"Jim," Mason said, "Come here."

"I need..." Jim said as he fretted over Claire, "What?"

"She is resting," Mason said, "We need to talk."

"Now?" Jim asked.

"Outside," Mason said, "Now."

Jim and Mason walked outside. Karen was still walking around the base looking for things that could be turned into a vehicle to get them out of there. She waved at them but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact with Jim. She knew that Mason would have to make the poor man see reason.

"She needs me," Jim said, "What is it?"

"She's dying, Jim," Mason said, "The blast didn't get her, but she was exposed to a massive blast of ion radiation. Human beings who get this close to nuclear blasts don't generally live long."

"No," Jim said, "She's going to make it!"

"She's vomiting," Mason said, "She's cold, she's shuddering. She is going to die, Jim."

"No," Jim said again, almost crying this time, "She can't... I need... She..."

"You love her, don't you?" Mason asked him.

"I never thought I'd feel this for anyone," Jim said, "I know its wrong... I can't... I can't ever let myself get this attached to a mere mortal... But she is the first woman who ever liked me for me... Ever... I... Don't laugh at me!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mason said, "I knew this would happen someday. You're too good a man for it not to. I knew the whoring wouldn't keep you satisfied forever."

"But I killed her!" Jim said, "I told..."

"You told her to stay in Moscow," Mason reminded him, "She came here because she thought it was right. Just like we did."

"What can I do, Mase?" Jim asked him, "I just want to hold her forever..."

"Stay with her," Mason said, "Get some closure. Be there for her for the time she has left. You won't be able to live with yourself otherwise. Ask her how she feels."

"She's dying," Jim said, "Should I even tell her?"

"She knows," Mason said, "She's an idiot if she doesn't. If you love her, spend that time with her and make her passing as comfortable for her as you can."

"Ok," Jim said, "You'll stay until..."

"Of course," Mason said, "Karen and I will work on transport. You just stay with her."

"Thanks," Jim said, "I mean it."

"I know," Mason said, "Get in there."

Jim walked into the hut and sat down in the dirt next to Claire. Claire woke up again and shuddered violently. She reached up and brushed some hair off her face, pulling out a large clump of it. Jim wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. She looked up at him through eyes that were still focused but getting cloudy.

"Who set off the nuke?" Claire asked, "It had to be... I've got radiation sickness."

"Natalia," Jim said, "They revived her using another serum attempt."

"Figures," Claire said, "Any of those Russian boys survive?"

"You're the last survivor," Jim said, "Other than the immortals."

"Bolantine and Nikki vaporize?" Claire asked him.

"No," Jim said, "They escaped. Mason saw them heading south. Lost them in the storm."

"Did... we... succeed in stopping them?" Claire asked hopefully, her voice getting weaker.

"Yes," Jim said, "Mishkin and Ronco are dead. The research was destroyed in the blast. If Nikki had any media on her, it was destroyed by the combination of fire and EMP."

"Then I won't die in vain," Claire said, "Will I?"

"No," Jim said, "Why did you have to come?"

"I couldn't let them go alone," Claire said, "I'm sorry, Jim... I do wish I could have built... Something..."

"I love you, Claire," Jim said, wiping the corner of his eye, "I've never said that to anyone before. But I do mean it."

"I believe you do," Claire told him, reaching for his hand, "I love you too."

"You're..." Jim started but couldn't bring himself to finish it, "You are..."

"I'm dying, Jim," Claire said finally, "I know that."

"Now, I know what Mason and Karen have gone through," Jim said, "They've lost everyone too."

"I will live forever," Claire said, "I will be in your heart, always, Jim. You just have to look for me. To be held in the heart of an immortal... That is immortality, Jim."

"I will," Jim said, trying to avoid crying, "I'm not the same man you first met, that's for sure."

"Just remember," Claire said, coughing a little, "Live, Jim. Don't die for me. I don't want that on me..."

"You want me to live like I was before?" Jim asked, "I don't know..."

"Not like you were," Claire said, "Just be sure to be open... Don't close yourself off. You're too good for that."

Claire coughed badly, and her skin was bubbling up from the radiation sickness. Jim quieted her and simply held her. She had only hours left, but he intended to stay with her until the end. Mason and Karen watched from outside as they worked with the pieces of a World War I era biplane.

"I never thought I'd see that from him," Karen said, "He's growing up."

"Yeah," Mason said, "He's learning a hard lesson. But, it will be better for him in the long run."

"No it won't," Karen said, "Losing someone like that is a pain that will never go away. He may learn to live with it, but he'll always have that pain."

"Better now," Mason said, "Time may not heal the wounds, but it will make them tolerable. Better he learns this before we outlive everyone we've ever known."

"If you say so," Karen said, "I can't believe this plane didn't blow up."

"Engine was drained," Mason said, "I think we can get it running with a few hours of work."

"It will give us something to do while we let Jim take care of business," Karen agreed, "Beats walking or skiing out. We can fly this thing under the radar, land it when it runs out of gas and find our way out of here."

"So where do you want to go?" Mason asked her.

"California," Karen said emphatically, "I've had enough snow and world travel. I want sun and relaxation for a while. How about a beach house in Malibu?"

"I'll see what I can do," Mason agreed, "We have nothing pressing at the moment. It will be years before we see Bolantine get into anything major again."

Mason and Karen continued talking idly as Jim sat through Claire's final sickness. It was hours that it continued, but they knew that the Russians were not going to be sending anyone into the area very quickly and that it would be safe enough for them to stay around. Jim was having the worst time of it, because the pain Claire was going through was excruciating to watch.

"What I can I do to help you, Claire?" Jim asked her, "Anything?"

"Morphine," Claire said, "I won't recover, Jim... I'm going to get worse."

"You want it to end?" Jim asked her, "I don't know..."

"I'll do it," Claire said and gasped from the pain, "Just be with me... Until the end."

"Of course," Jim said, "I won't leave you."

"Bury me properly," Claire asked, "Don't let me rot here."

"Ok," Jim said and got the vial, "Here you are. Do what you need to."

"Kiss me," Claire asked him, "One last time..."

Jim couldn't refuse that. He kissed her lips, though they felt cold and clammy it was something he had to do. He knew it wouldn't hurt him, and he needed to touch her that one last time. While they kissed she pushed four doses of morphine into her system, enough to push her already-dying body over the edge.

"I love you too, Jim," Claire said finally, "Remember me..."

"Always," Jim promised as her breathing slowed, "I always will..."

Chapter 68 – Departure

Jim and Karen dug Claire's final grave as Mason did the finishing work on the Biplane's engine. They dug a shallow grave and covered her over, knowing that it would be years before any animal could live on this site again. Jim was barely holding together as they covered her body and she left her view.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Karen said, "I know..."

"Don't," Jim said, "I'll be ok, Karen. I don't know if I'll ever be the same, but I'll be ok."

"I think we'd all be surprised if you were the same," Karen smiled, "Come on, Jim. Let's get out of this death trap. Maybe some warm California sun will bring you around a little."

"Maybe," Jim said, "So long as it's not near any nukes, I'll be happy."

"I can't think of many nukes in Malibu," Karen said, "Let's see whether Mason's mechanical skills extend to world war one planes."

Mason finished fueling up the old plane with the stash of gasoline that managed to survive the blast in a far off building. He knew that protocol dictated that he have someone in the cockpit, but he didn't much care about safe flying procedures. He pulled on the propeller and tried to get the engine moving. It took six tries, but it finally caught.

"It's running!" Karen said, "We get to leave now?"

"If I can fly this ancient hunk of junk," Mason said, "This thing is over a century old now."

"They're supposed to be easy," Jim said, "I can try..."

"Your driving skills are horrid," Mason said, "You think I trust you to an old plane?"

"I think you're a passenger today, Jim," Karen smiled, "Think you and I can squeeze into that second passenger slot together?"

"Tight fit," Jim said, "But I'll fit with you better than you'll fit with Mason."

"Fuel is burning," Mason said as he climbed into the cockpit, "Let's go!"

Mason took a bit of time getting used to the throttle, but managed to do a pretty good job of getting the plane airborne. He headed in the same direction that Bolantine and Nikki had, but a whole lot faster. The plane, while old and decrepit, was still capable of nearly ninety miles an hour.

"I think I see Bolantine," Karen yelled, "What should I do?"

"Flip him off!" Mason yelled, "We're not going to have enough gas to reach a city if we stop! Let Bolantine suffer on the ground."

Jim didn't say anything. He merely watched as they flew over Bolantine and Nikki. He figured that he would get his revenge on them someday. Not that it would help Claire. She was gone for good.

The three of them landed the plane in a secluded area and left it, hoping that it would burn off its radiation before anyone found it again. They walked for several miles before making their way to the Trans-Siberian railroad, hopping a train to Vladivostok that would let them leave Russia and the horrors of Bolantine's failed project behind them.
Chapter 69 – Malibu

"How is he?" Karen asked Mason, "Did setting him up with the lady of the evening work?"

"No," Mason said, "He's still depressed. It's only been a few months, Karen."

"What is he doing?" Karen wondered, "He's on the computer still?"

"Conspiracy sites," Mason nodded, "Watching the conspiracy theories on what happened in Colorado."

"No one will ever know for sure," Karen said, "I just wish there was something we could do."

"I'm ok, guys," Jim said as he walked into the room, "I'm just not ready for that type of companionship yet. Probably won't be for a long while."

"Just try to have some fun, eh?" Karen asked him, "I'd hate to think we came to California just for you to have a bad time."

"I'll be fine," Jim said, "I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" Karen asked.

"I have a visit to make," Jim said, "Nothing major. Something I have to do."

Jim Entragian went outside and walked down the beach. He had been using the conspiracy sites as a cover for what he was really doing. He had been using the international computer networks to track down for sure the source of the money. Camran Alazzi had survived the airstrikes in Iran and had managed to get out with his money intact.

Jim walked quickly, knowing he would have a single shot at this. Alazzi had come to the United States incognito to set up an operation to finish what Bolantine and Nikki had failed to do. Jim had managed to break into an Iranian travel network and got the minister's itinerary. It was a happy coincidence that brought Alazzi to a house two miles away from the one that Mason had rented when they came to Malibu.

He saw that Alazzi's guards were already out. He went out into the water and swam past them. They were not watching for a single person to come crawling up the beach in the dark. Jim knew this and used it to his advantage, using everything he had ever learned from Mason.

Camran Alazzi allowed himself a forbidden drink as he sat down in the opulent bedroom. Jim smiled as he walked quietly into the room and sat down on Alazzi's bed. The Iranian turned around quickly and was about to call security when he saw Jim's pistol.

"Camran Alazzi," Jim said, "Welcome to America."

"Who is this Camran..." Alazzi started and then stopped, "You are not American intelligence."

"No," Jim said, "I am a civilian."

"Why are you here?" Alazzi asked.

"You funded a project that you shouldn't have," Jim said, "Now you will pay."

"I could call my security," Alazzi said, "You shoot me and we both die."

"I have nothing to lose, Camran," Jim said, "You see, everything I cared about died on a Russian base because of the project that you funded with Bolantine and his bitch."

"That project failed," Alazzi said, "And if I ever find Bolantine or that bitch..."

"You'll fail to kill them like everyone else," Jim said, "I don't care about that. Bolantine is small potatoes. I want the money, Alazzi. Their cash and any Iranian cash you have access to."

"You'll just have to kill me," Alazzi said, "I won't give that to you."

"I didn't think you would," Jim agreed, "So I figured I'd have to make you unhappy about it."

"What?" Alazzi asked.

"Here," Jim said, handing Alazzi a box, "Here's a gift for you. Go ahead and open it."

"You are kidding," Alazzi said, "What are you up to?"

"Open it," Jim said.

The box was heavy in Alazzi's hands. Jim kept the weapon pointed at him and Alazzi finally decided it was worth opening the box just to find out what was inside. Jim watched as he did so and smiled at the perplexed look on the Iranian's face as he saw that there was nothing but a pair of ordinary looking metal balls that clinked together when the box opened.

"What is this?" Alazzi asked, "Two balls?"

"A pair of balls for a man who never had any," Jim said, "Something you've been trying to get for years, pure plutonium."

"Plutonium!" Alazzi said, "In here..."

"Yep," Jim said, "And you just created a subcritical mass by opening the box, Alazzi. I'd say you received somewhere around three thousand rads. Just about as much Claire received at Bolantine's Russian compound."

"So I kill both of us!" Alazzi shouted, "Guards!"

"Not me," Jim said, "But if you let them come in, they will die along with you."

Alazzi thought about that. He shouted again for the guards to stop. He didn't want to believe what the American said, but he did. He felt the sickness creeping into his body.

"Rot in hell, Alazzi," Jim said as he picked up the box that the Iranian had dropped, "Give Mishkin and Ronco my regards when you see them."

Jim closed the lead lined box and walked out of the house. Camran Alazzi was a dead man, but he wasn't going to sit and watch it. Just knowing that was enough to make Jim a happier man. He walked back to the house and hid the box in the lead lined safe, along with the clothing he had been wearing. He showered for a good hour to make sure that no residual of handling the toxic materials were left on his body.

"What's up, Jim?" Karen asked, "Where have you been?"

"Taking care of an old wound," Jim smiled, "That girl still hanging around?"

"Sure," Karen smiled, "She's out on the patio."

Jim walked out and was almost to his old self as he talked to the young woman. Karen and Mason watched as Jim actually put some moves, respectfully on the girl. They smiled as he let himself actually have some fun.

"Think the old Jim is back?" Karen asked Mason.

"No," Mason said, "I think this is the new Jim. Probably better than the old one overall."

"I hope so," Karen said, "I'd hate for her passing to be for nothing."

Jim smiled as he talked to the girl and let himself go for the first time since Claire's death. He wouldn't ever forget Claire, but he could be with someone else and cherish the memory of the one true love he'd had in his life so far.

Chapter 70 – School Days

"Gotta love it," Bolantine said as he read the paper, "Camran Alazzi survives the coalition air strikes to die in Southern California from Radiation Poisoning."

"Great," Nikki said, "One less pain in our ass."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Bolantine said, "You ready for your first day of school?"

"Sure," Nikki said, "Would you believe I'm actually nervous?"

"Of course," Bolantine nodded, "It's only been a half century or so."

"Funny," Nikki said, "Granted, how many women my age do you know that look like this?"

"None," Bolantine said, "But I generally don't look at other women your age."

"Ha ha," Nikki said sarcastically, "What are you going to do today?"

"Start establishing another identity," Bolantine said, "I don't want to taint you with any shady deals I may pull. Rudolph DeSeve will be a law abiding taxpayer who is very dull and almost entirely fictional."

"Going shady already, huh?" Nikki asked, "What about laying low?"

"Legitimately shady," Bolantine promised, "Edward Ballantine will be a kingmaker, not a king."

"Start small," Nikki suggested, "Get used to it again."

"You too," Bolantine suggested, "Let's go."

"How do I look?" Nikki asked him, "Young enough?"

"You look like I should be arrested for being a lecherous old man," Bolantine grinned, "Granted, I was when we first started."

"I'll take that," Nikki said, "Let's go, daddy... Time to get me registered."

"All right," Bolantine said, "Get in the van."

The two of them loaded up in the minivan that Bolantine purchased to keep up the charade. It had cost him lots of money to build the identity that they were now hiding behind, but he had a feeling that it would pay off eventually. They went to the school and presented their documents.

"All right Mr. DeSeve," the receptionist said, "Your daughter's documents are in order."

"Thank you," Bolantine said, "See you tonight, Nikki."

"Thanks Dad," Nikki said sarcastically.

Bolantine left the girl alone and the receptionist brought Nikki to her first class. School had been in session two weeks, so Nikki was already behind. She knew this but didn't care. She was sure that she would be able to catch up once she made a few friends.

The teacher sat Nikki down next to another girl, one with dirty blonde hair and a bored expression on her face. Nikki looked over at her and wondered if this was the first possibility for a friend. She smiled and turned on the charm.

"Hello," Nikki said, "Is this class that boring?"

"The worst," she said, "I'm Krista."

"Nice to meet you," Nikki said, "I'm Nicole DeSeve, but everyone calls me Nikki..."

*** The End ***
Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

Durell's Insurrection

The Accidental Immortal

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

