

### The Random Affair

Copyright 2013 James H Roby

Published by James H Roby at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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 enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Once Upon a Time in Miami

Chapter Two: Home Again For the First Time

Chapter Three: It Was Bad Then

Chapter Four: An Unlikely Pair

Chapter Five: The UrbanKnights' Night Out

Chapter Six: A Portrait of Evil

Chapter Seven: Robin

Chapter Eight: A Hot time in the Suburbs Tonight

Chapter Nine: Getting Ready

Chapter Ten: A Night of Fashion

Chapter Eleven: The Battle in Cobo!

Chapter Twelve: An Old Flame Burnt Out

Chapter Thirteen: Jordan Noble to the Rescue!

Chapter Fourteen: Alone with His Thoughts

Chapter Fifteen: Snapped

Chapter Sixteen: A Violent Day at the Hospital

Chapter Seventeen: The Chase

Chapter Eighteen: A Cold, Dark Place

Chapter Nineteen: Point of No Return

Chapter Twenty: The Comeuppance

Chapter Twenty-One: The Caged Bird

Chapter Twenty-Two: Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Three: Lovers Again

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Maiden Among Knights

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Pieces Come Together

Chapter Twenty-Six: Bearding the Lion

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Past Debts

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Making It Right

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Cage Door Opens

Epilogue: A Distant Hand

Chapter One: The Sweet Release

Afterword

Other Books by James H Roby

Chapter One: Once Upon a Time in Miami

Four years ago...

It was moments like this Jordan T. Noble III really questioned his career choice. Shooting and violence he could handle, but being out of his lane - chasing down criminals...it wasn't his thing. Spies didn't do that.

"They're late."

Jordan looked over to his right. Leaning against the brownish, yellow stucco wall, Eric Manning, E-Man to his friends, had his face in a half grin. Jordan knew the look. Impatience.

"You got a date?" Jordan asked.

"A date? As in one?" E-Man chuckled softly like Jordan had said the dumbest thing in the world.

Depression and dread came out of every crack. The single hallway was black save for at each end, where dingy windows struggled to let in some light. It did not give the aura of being a pleasant site to live. An odor of human waste hung in the air.

From the north stairway, FBI Special Agent Joe Storey joined them on the Miami's Overtown apartment building's third floor. In his wake was a pair of agents. The trio came to a halt at apartment 312. One of them lugged along a battering ram. Storey held up the arrest warrants for the targets: Cody Random and the rest of his party. The FBI agents slapped their backs against the wall and slowed their breathing.

"The SWAT team will be here in a second," Storey whispered. "Let's get ready." His words loped out of his mouth with a Southern charm originating from somewhere in Tennessee.

"Well, that's very good for the SWAT team," Jordan whispered back. "Agent Manning and I will tell them all about how we caught Cody Random before he could escape...again."

A problem with this op was FBI could arrest Random but they brought all their rules and procedures. Storey turned a harsh eye to Jordan and E-Man. Jordan knew two Top Secret level operatives from the Defense Intelligence Agency were cramping the FBI's style and if he tried really hard, he could imagine caring. He knew who was in the apartment and was of no mind to wait.

"Whatever, man," Storey said. "Just remember, you're in the US of A now. This is my collar." A heartbeat passed as all the men stopped to listen to the sounds from within the apartment. Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" crept from under the door.

"USA?" E-Man said. "Is that why there're so many McDonald's around?"

"Now, now," Jordan said over his shoulder, "play nice."

A small brown face appeared in the doorway across the hall. A pair of adult hands seized the kid and shut the door. Locks were heard being thrown up and down the hall. A sort of sixth sense reacting to the presence of government authority. Jordan turned his deep brown eyes back to Storey's pale blue.

The FBI man broke the stare and turned to his team. "Prepare to breach."

Jordan and E-Man drew weapons - a Glock 19, fitted with a sound suppressor for Jordan, while E-Man's M9 was a bit more fantastic. It had a silencer affixed, an extended magazine and a large scope. All the attachments made the gun twice as large.

Storey said, "You think you got enough?"

E-Man narrowed his eyes. "Let's go find out." He turned to Jordan with a grin. E-Man liked to mess with the locals with these little acts. If it was to make them be a little more cautious around the 'crazy' DIA agent, or if he just thought it was funny, Jordan never knew. He, on the other hand, used the calm before the storm to focus. Eyes tightened, shoulders squared – even his heart rate dropped. He was almost a different person.

"You go in low," Jordan said.

E-Man grunted an acknowledgment.

"On your mark," Storey said.

Jordan looked to the agent carrying the battering ram and held up a fist. "Execute!"

The battering ram crashed through the thin portal and the agent recoiled and swiveled out of the way. Twisted Sister went up a notch. Jordan and E-Man sprung in the room. They poured into a makeshift lab where a living room should be. The brothers, Cody and Michael Random stood, beakers in hand, mouths agape.

"Freeze! Federal Agents!" Jordan shouted.

Cody Random's thin blond brows arched up under a mane of flowing hair. Jordan felt his body loosen. The mission was over.

Click.

The sound was soft, still, Jordan refocused back into the machine of operational precision. He whirled to his right. A man with a gun. Aiming.

Jordan dove backward and fired twice. The first bullet flew high and through the poorly constructed walls of the apartment. The second struck the gunman in the shoulder. The FBI agents ducked back into the hall. E-Man fell backward under Jordan. Cody and Michael dropped their work and made a break for the fire escape. Jordan and E-Man both got on their feet. E-Man cleared the lab equipment with a bound. Beakers and Bunsen burners crashed to the floor as Cody's wiry frame squeezed out the window. E-Man stuck his head out the window and a split second later jumped back. Jordan caught him as the telltale sound of a Smith & Wesson .357 discharging twice filled the room. Cautiously, Jordan checked to see if Random was still overhead. Seeing nothing but the darkening sky over the building, he leapt through the window onto a fire escape.

"Let's go, E."

"Wait," Storey said from the door. The rest of his team secured the wounded gunman. "This is my bust!"

"We'll save you a piece," E-Man said and vanished out the window after Jordan.

At the roof, the forms of Cody and his brother grew smaller. Jordan bit down an oath and sprinted for the escaping duo.

All this for a couple of drug dealers...

"Give it up, Cody!" Jordan shouted. No sooner than the words left his lips, the Randoms disappeared off the side of the building. Jordan's right brow climbed an inch. He skidded to a stop at the roof's edge. The pair jumped off the building to the next, a floor shorter. E-Man arrived a second later.

"After them," Jordan said.

"You mean, jump?"

Jordan backpedaled a few steps. "If they can do it, so can we." He set off in a run and cleared the distance between the buildings. E-Man flew next. The chase was on once more.

The Randoms gained a lead, but not much. Another building approached. The brothers jumped again. Prepared, Jordan and E-Man leapt the gap without missing a beat.

"This is the last building on the block," Jordan said.

"We've got 'em!"

Random rotated around and fired his gun. Jordan ducked. E-Man dove to his left. He slid and fought for balance at the building's edge. He lashed out and caught the edge. He screamed for his partner.

Jordan fell on his stomach and reached to pull up E-Man. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Shit, where's the Randoms?"

Jordan whirled around. The roofs were empty. A wave of anger traveled through his body. He willed it away. With no building to jump to, the Randoms had few options. Jordan sprang to his feet.

If I were Cody...

"He climbed over the edge." He spoke the words like they were fact. "Down a fire escape."

E-Man sprinted for the right side of the building. "I'll go this way and cut him off." He found a fire escape and descended. Jordan headed forward. He found another fire escape leading to the alley. A quick check revealed the Random brothers weren't below him. Jordan went down. He stretched out with all his senses. He couldn't see either brother, but he knew the criminals couldn't be far. On the ground, he spun in a tight circle. No Randoms. The alley blackened with the oncoming twilight. He heard something to his right. The Glock before him, he moved toward a dim figure of a man. The out of place blond mane identified him as Cody Random.

"Freeze, Cody."

Random jerked. He was before a door, apparently locked. Slowly, almost casually, he turned. A sly grin played on Random's lips. It was the first time Jordan and Random were ever face to face, but Jordan knew his opponents' features well. Mug shots gave him a glimpse of Cody Random's thin colorless lips and wild blue eyes. He knew much about Random from the files but still wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel cheated his career as an international criminal was coming to such an anticlimactic end? Jordan tensed and prepared for the possibility Random's cocky smile was because he had no intention in going quietly, but in a blaze of glory.

"It's strange, ending like this," Random said. His voice was like a crooner from some bygone age of nightclubs and speakeasies. "My brilliance, snuffed out in a darken alley." He smiled as if he was talking about a bad day at the race track and not the beginning of imprisonment.

"Yeah, it was all that," Jordan said. "Probably shouldn't have killed those airmen back in Germany. The Air Force's funny about that sort of thing. Now put your hands up, you're under arrest." The word felt uneasy...out of place in his mouth. Arrest. He was an intelligence officer - a spy. What the hell was he doing here?

Random's mellow mood didn't change as he raised his hands. Ten digits pointed upward far too casually for a man looking down the business end of a Glock 19. "Whatever you say, officer."

Jordan felt the fingers of emotions claw at his steely resolve. Random's cockiness got to him. He was clearly captured, with no hope of escape. Alone. No one could get away from a gun pointed at his head.

Wait. Where was his gun?

The click of a revolver's hammer was like thunder in the alley. Jordan whirled around and the training took over. Two rounds spit out of the Glock. The whole scene lasted a second, but it seemed to take years for Michael Random's body to fall to the ground. With a wild howl born from a man filled with rage and sorrow, Random tackled Jordan to the ground. Blows rained and Jordan curled into a ball and cursed himself for letting his guard down. Random inexplicably went limp and collapsed next to him. Jordan looked up to see his partner's hand extend to help him up. He took the gesture and came to his feet.

"I heard a shot," E-Man said. His brown clean shaved face streamed sweat. His chest bounced in rhythm with his labored breathing. Jordan gave his friend a reassuring smile and clasped E-Man's shoulder.

"Good work," Jordan said. He walked to Michael Random's body. Just a kid - nineteen according to the file. It was some sort of decoy play. Cody would distract and Michael would finish Jordan off. Good plan...kinda.

Michael looked alive except for the pinpoint in his forehead. The eyes stared into Jordan's. The face appeared to be shocked. Shock, the last thing he experienced as Jordan suddenly turned and pushed a sizable amount of Michael's brain through the back of his skull.

Jordan holstered his weapon as he shook his head. The Reaper had been close to him today. His mind was on its way to the dark place of doubt and recriminations.

"You cool?" E-Man asked.

Jordan looked away from the corpse. "Yeah, I'm good. It never gets easy, ya know?"

E-Man scoffed. "We shouldn't have been here, man. This ain't our beat, being all Five-O with it."

"These guys were more than just drug dealers."

Another scoff. "National security, right?"

Jordan nodded. "Uh huh. And Random doing those guys at Ramstein made it all kind of murky as to whose jurisdiction is what. And you know, your uncle and mine ain't down with that."

"Your Uncle Sam," E-Man said. Jordan let it slide. He didn't have the time nor energy to debate the righteousness of the US government, its clandestine operations or the logic of two black men from Detroit being involved in said operations. He did, however, miss the blanket of security being such an operator normally provided and he lamented the upcoming confrontation with Agent Storey over the death of young Michael Random.

The first stars appeared in the Miami sky as the sound of police sirens shattered the still of the night. And Jordan Noble wished he could just disappear into it.

Chapter Two: Home Again For the First Time

Today...

"So, what do you think?"

The real estate agent drew back the shades, revealing the massive back yard. Jordan glanced at it but focused on Barbara, his agent. She was nice looking. Mid to late forties. Maybe ten pounds heavier than she should be and like many black women, she carried it in her hips and thighs. The skirt was a professional length, at the knee and dark, blue not black. The pink blouse, however, was a little too summery even though it was in season.

"It's very nice," Jordan said. The yard was about a quarter acre and its southern border was the Detroit River. It gently lapped at the shore, still, Jordan thought he may need to put some sort of fence else his new puppy might run headlong into the water.

"It's very nice," Jordan repeated and turned back to the house. It wasn't quite a mansion, and its location, Detroit's Historic Berry District was the driving force behind the ridiculous price. Well, ridiculous for Detroit. Sordid history...somebody famous had lived here.

"You haven't seen the best part yet," Barbara said. She turned away from the windows and back into the house. Sensible shoes, slight heel. Enough to accent the curve of her legs but not so tall to make walking through large houses uncomfortable.

"You've been in the living room," she said, a tremor in her voice. "Let's look at the bedrooms." Her eyes went to his, as if the word 'bedrooms' would ignite something unseemly in him.

Pretty. Maybe even cute. Still, he wondered about the short hair framing her face. It didn't suit her. So why? More clues as he dropped his vision to her hands. Ring finger indented. Divorced, not widowed. A widow would wear her ring, even a small one as she had, given the size of the imprint on her finger. So, no – a recent divorce – couldn't wait to get it off. And the haircut, the default reaction of 'starting over' for women.

"So," she asked and mounted the first of the stairs, "is there a Mrs. Noble?" She turned awkwardly to see him as they rose.

"Nah. Just me. And my dog." He smiled and she did too. The mention of the dog meant he wasn't thinking primarily of her. He did it to relax her a little – just to let her know he wasn't here to hit on her. Although dressed down in his black T-shirt, gray slacks and chukka boots, far from the best he could look, he was still sure he could bed her. He was probably ten years younger than her and his military style cut translated well as the hair of an African American businessman. A few personal questions...a call about the house...another referring to something about her. Two days. Better make it three. No sense in rushing it. It's better if it's natural and not forced. As if she's not trapped into the notion of having sex with a man. No, it works better if she thinks at least some of it is her idea.

Jesus, what's the matter with me?

He stopped just at the top of the stairs and closed his eyes tight. Sure, he had assessed, measured and came to the very realistic conclusion he could get her in bed. Just like she was an asset. A tool to be exploited and used for the best interest of the United States government. Only he didn't do that sort of thing anymore. He hadn't been in the Air Force, operating in the Defense Intelligence Agency for over sixteen months. Major Jordan T. Noble III was an element of the past. He was now just Mr. Noble. Private citizen and potential homeowner. So, what was his thing? What did he do now? The detective agency he started? Was that a kind of guilty reaction to the way, the extremely dissatisfying and perhaps illegal way, he left the service? Was being a private eye really what he wanted to do now? He put his teeth on edge and groaned slightly.

"Mr. Noble?"

Jordan opened his eyes. They had reached the second floor and she was a step or two nearer to him. She must have thought he was an idiot, moaning and carrying on.

"I'm fine, Barb," Jordan said. "Really like to see that master bedroom." He smiled bright, getting his eyes into the act and hoped she bought it.

"OK, then," Barb said. "Now remember, it's a historic home, but as long as you don't change the outside, there's a lot of options to make it your own."

He sighed. Yeah, she bought it. He watched her ample bottom and pulled back shoulders vanished into a bedroom. She was in full sales mode. It was his mode he was concerned with.

The bedroom was large – larger than he had expected. Again, the windows opened out to a picturesque view of the river. The light of the day didn't directly enter the south facing window and a glow filled the room. A sailboat slid by on the calm, glasslike water, radiant in the bright mid-morning sun.

Jordan unconsciously walked to the window. He put his hands to hips as the corner of his mouth went up a tick. His mind was already decorating – bed, dresser, weapons locker... Just as quickly, his mood crashed down. Is this what he was now? Two years ago, he was a member of the Defense Department's clandestine anti-terrorist operation. Now, one mistake – one stupid mistake later – he was back in his hometown, picking out drapes. Not because he wanted to, but because he had nowhere else to go.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The words came out of Barb with a sigh.

"Is it?" He honestly didn't know.

Barb followed Jordan to the front of the house. He parked behind her gray Honda Accord. He reached the door of his black 1991 Corvette ZR-1. He couldn't help but smile every time he saw it. It was the one purchase he made with the millions he got on his last mission that did not cause him guilt. He had longed for the classic since he was a kid.

"What do you think?" Barb asked.

Jordan shifted weight to one leg. The house had everything he wanted and needed. Location, size, it could be updated to the level of security he demanded. Still, his earlier moment of doubt gave him pause. Plus, he had to put on a show for the saleswoman.

"It's definitely on the list," he said. "I do have a few other options."

He didn't.

A sigh quickly followed by a smile came from her. "Well, just let me know." They shook hands and Barb headed for her car. Jordan opened his door and reached in to get his blazer. He was going into the office and he had to at least look the part.

~

The UrbanKnights Investigations and Security Services blended into the city landscape. It had been an empty office building on Jefferson Avenue until Jordan and his newfound wealth. He transformed the three-story unit of red brick and accented metal work into a modern workspace. After his service to his country, he now had the skills and funds to deal with the cancer of crime choking his home. Skills came from his time in the Defense Intelligence Agency. The funds...that's a story for another time.

Jordan put the car in his personal spot in the rear parking lot off Larned Street. A buzz sounded as he swiped a card reader next to a metal door, opening it. He passed through an employee lounge into a floorspace filled with cubicles. Typical of such places, a series of light fixtures hung overhead while a tan and incredibly average carpet lie underfoot.

Most of the occupants were at their desks, answering phones and working on computers. A couple were with clients. These were the ten detectives of the agency. Five of them were temps, hungry for a chance to prove themselves. Former police officers, mostly. Jordan hadn't gotten to the place where valued and capable operators were beating a path to his door.

The administrative secretary stood in a corner monitoring a construction project. Tonya Brown was tall as a power forward, dark as chocolate and curvy as the Autobahn. The blue dress was as tight as a second skin. She worked with the detectives on the first floor and served as the UrbanKnights' gatekeeper. Human nature took over and Jordan took in every inch of her as he came to her side. Closer, he saw a trio of men in overalls before an electric panel.

"Ain't nothin' changed, Mr. Noble," Ms. Brown said, the voice revealed an education not reaching a high school diploma. She flung her hand at the men with not so much a sigh as a growl.

"Jerome," Jordan said. One of the men, thin with a head full of dreadlocks, turned with a toothy smile.

"Jordan!" Jerome threw out his arms. "What's up -"

Jordan held up a hand. "You know I got a gun, right?"

Jerome's arms dropped. "Damn, bruh. Why you got to come at me like that? Hell, Trey over there is strapped." A short light skinned man turned long enough to throw up a hand in greeting.

Jordan shook his head. "Why am I coming – Look, man. This wi-fi system was supposed to be done Friday. It is now Thursday."

Jerome dismissed with a hand wave. "Bruh, seriously? Every company runs a little behind. C'mon. Don't be like that."

Jordan knew he should be counting backwards or thinking about baby ducks or something but all he wanted to do was put hands on Jerome. The recent college grad was trying his hand at his own business. IT and related infrastructure. And knowing the barriers facing young enterprising African Americans, Jordan was willing to give Jerome a chance. His patience, however was not without end.

"Here's the thing, Jerome," he said. "You are now three weeks over schedule and several hundred, maybe thousands of dollars over budget."

"Oh, but see. The thang is -"

Jordan held up a hand. "I ain't playing with you. Finish this job. Friday. Or not. But I ain't paying another dime after that. You feel me?"

Jerome scoffed and muttered something under his breath. He went back to his companions and visibly worked with effort. Jordan stood for a moment then moved on, heading for the stairs. At his side, Ms. Brown followed.

"I know he's my cousin and all, Mr. Noble, but say the word and I will put my foot straight up his -"

Jordan turned sharply and directly to face the secretary. "Just...just make sure he finishes his work." They were less than an inch apart thanks to Jordan's swift turn. It took only the slightest of eye movement for him to peer down to the plentiful chest seeking to free itself from its blue prison. He thought the peek when unnoticed. He was wrong.

"You know, Mr. Noble." She leaned in just a hair. "It's really my fault Jerome and his crew are here. It would be only fair if you...punished me." The devil was in her eyes and Jordan fought back a laugh at the clear attempt to embarrass him. Their relationship had been about flirtation and double entendre as much as anything else. He wasn't sure just how to take her yet, but since she worked for him, he didn't act on her advances. Didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun.

"And I'm sure you could take it - well. But let's just focus on the matter at hand."

"Let's. Oh, and before you head upstairs..." Ms. Brown gestured with a nod to the waiting area at the front of the building. Before her desk at the building's main entrance, stood a woman.

Maria Kelly was well-dressed, in her twenties, honey bronze and very attractive. The UrbanKnights had just concluded a case for her. Her husband, Brian, an accountant in a suburban firm, had been involved in an affair. It got ugly quick and to make matters worse Maria's sister discovered the matter. The discovery led Brian to take her life.

The UrbanKnights uncovered the details of the murders and in turn Brian Kelly was convicted. For the UrbanKnights, it was their first major case. For Maria, she was suddenly caught in a no-win situation. To find her sister's killer, she had to turn in her husband. Jordan could only imagine what the past two weeks since Brian's arrest had been for Maria Kelly.

"Mr. Noble," Kelly said, her voice wavered like a branch in a tornado. "I-I don't have an appointment..."

"Don't worry about that. What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Noble, when they arrested my husband, I lost everything. I can't be married to the man who killed my sister, but without him, I have no money. And divorce is so expensive. I'm going crazy! What should I do? Please help me."

"I...legally can't advice you in such matters," Jordan said. His eyes bore into hers.

"But you know I gotta dump him." Kelly said. Her back straightened, eyes intense.

Jordan reached for the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a billfold. "Here," he handed Kelly a card, "Call this man – he's a good lawyer. He'll help you."

Kelly looked at the card as if it were poisonous, "But, Mr. Noble. I can't afford..."

"Don't worry about cost. I'll take care of that."

"I – I don't know what to say."

"And another thing," Jordan said dropping his voice to a whisper. "This is the number of a good friend of mine. She's a doctor. You might be going through some tough times now and, well, you know..."

Kelly lowered her eyes as she took the second card. She did know. When she raised her eyes again, they were wet with tears.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was overcome with emotion. " I don't know...why are you doing all this?"

"Because I can," Jordan said. He shook her hand again. "Good luck, Mrs. Kelly."

"Ms. Taylor," she corrected with a slight smile, "and thank you."

Jordan watched Maria Taylor leave. There was a certain movement in the hips that projected confidence, pride and sexiness all at the same time. He was glad to help – the services he just offered would have cost her a small fortune. But for him, it was a matter of paying back some favors. Jordan snapped out of his stupor and saw Ms. Brown back at her desk, looking at him.

"What?"

Ms. Brown lowered her head. "Don't be cuttin' my check handing out all this free service," she said. "We got bills up in here and you being all soft."

He tried to resist, but a smile formed on his face.

Guess I am.

The access key slid through the slot on the door effortlessly. Jordan was greeted by the sounds of Joe Sample's "Somehow Our Love Survive". The second level of the detective agency was the home to the UrbanKnights Special Investigation Unit. Jordan worked along with his three closest friends on this floor. The cases they worked on here, personally got Jordan's interest and usually required his particular skill set.

The door closed behind him and a sole hallway stretched out. The walls were a pale gray and the carpet was deep with a blood red hue. he walked up to the crescent desk of the reception area. The executive secretary, Gloria Steed didn't even raise her gray-haired head as she handed Jordan a stack of letters.

"Good Morning, Mr. Noble."

" 'Morning, Mrs. Steed," Jordan said and thumbed through the stack.

"Is it laundry day, sir?"

Jordan paused from scanning the letters. Mrs. Steed's face was still on the computer screen before her.

"I just got back from house hunting. I did put on a sport coat."

"Your mother called," Mrs. Steed said. She looked over the rims of her glasses with those pale blue almost gray eyes of hers. Clearly, she was the employee, but the motherly quality about her always put Jordan at a disadvantage.

"Mrs. Steed..."

"Poor dear, she sounded so worried."

"Mrs. Steed, I -"

"I know how nice it is to get a phone call from your son. My boys call every week, like clockwork."

"I've been meaning to call, but -"

"I truly wanted to put her mind at ease, but what could I say, I don't know where you are most of the time..."

"All right, all right, I'll call her right now."

Gloria Steed popped her head up. Her mouth and eyes all went big chasing away the wrinkles of her face. "Mr. Noble, I hope you don't think I was trying to influence you in any way."

"Yeah, yeah," Jordan said. "You made your point. Anything else?"

"Yes, that nice Dr. Myers called. She won't be able to meet you for dinner Friday. I'm so sorry."

Jordan rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Steed, it's not that big a deal."

"Would you like to reschedule?"

Jordan started away from the desk. "I'll take care of it. Thanks."

"You really shouldn't let her get away."

Mrs. Steed!" Jordan shouted, "I told you -"

"Yes, yes, I know, just friends. All the same..."

Jordan stopped and turned around. The old Polish lady was his first hire at UrbanKnights and had been giving him hell ever since. Sometimes he wondered why he put up with it. Others he wondered how he made it without her.

"Mrs. Steed, why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

Jordan sighed and continued on his way. Only four offices were on this floor. The first two had the doors closed and locked. Jordan looked at his watch. The time was 10:03. He walked on, wondering where the occupants were. Across the hall from his office, E-Man sat on a corner of his desk, talking on the phone. He saw Jordan, terminated his call and jogged across the hall.

"Hey, what's up, E," Jordan said as he opened his door.

" 'Sup."

They entered the spacious office. E-Man commented football could be played in it. Of course, it wasn't quite that large. A formal office space complete with wooden desk before a bookshelf set opposite the door. To the left, a couch and pair of leather chairs were stationed in front of tall floor to ceiling windows.

Jordan slid off his jacket and hung it on a coat tree off to the right of his desk. He threw the stack of letters on his desk as E-Man sat in a chair. The morning sun beamed from high in the eastern sky, catching a corner of the south windows behind Jordan. The glass towers of the Renaissance Center across the street bathe in the morning sun, gleaming like a jewel. E-Man picked up the remote from the desk and turned on the TV in the book shelf on the south wall.

"What I miss?" Jordan asked as he booted up his laptop. With practiced motion, he opened three windows – his mailbox, a local news and a national news site.

"Not much," E-Man said. "You saw that mess Jerome still screwing around with?"

"Yeah."

"OK. Me? I'd fire that brother." E-Man switched off the TV and tossed the remote back on the desk.

The two men worked silently – Jordan on his computer while E-Man browsed through his phone. A comfortable, familiar routine dating back to their time in the service. Ten minutes passed.

"Where the hell is Don and Malcolm?"

E-Man laughed his signature laugh. A noisy throb through his nose followed by a snort. "You gave them the day off."

"On a Monday? What the hell was I thinking? Why didn't you stop me?"

"You the boss," E-Man said with a broad grin.

Before Jordan could respond, the intercom beeped. "Yes, Mrs. Steed?"

"Did you call your mother?" the voice crackled over the speaker.

Jordan mouthed the word Damn. "No, Mrs. Steed."

"Well, it's too late now. There are two men to see you."

Jordan's eyebrow shot up as he wondered how these men got around the formidable Ms. Brown to reach Mrs. Steed. "Do they have an appointment?"

"No sir, but they say they're from the CIA."

Jordan and E-Man's eyes locked.

"CIA?'" E-Man asked.

Jordan shrugged. He turned back to the intercom. "Who are they, Mrs. Steed?"

A moment passed before Mrs. Steed's voice returned. "Agents Stiles and Thomas."

Jordan and E-Man exchanged looks again.

"Anyone you know, E?" Jordan asked.

"Nope. You?"

"Nope. What do you think?"

E-Man put his elbow on the desk and made a gesture of surrendering. "It's up to you. You the boss."

"You go there too much." Jordan gave him a sideways look. "Show them in," he said to the intercom.

They got up and Jordan made his way around the desk. He went to his coat rack, debating whether to put his jacket back on. He didn't exactly hate the CIA but if they lost all their funding he wouldn't shed any tears. Between competing with them for intel and other SNAFUs while with the DIA, he and E-Man had no shortage of bad blood with their sister agency. He shrugged and put the jacket on. What the hell.

"CIA, huh?" he said.

E-Man bobbed his shoulders. He had no jacket, which was par for the course. E-Man had to be forced into a suit. He wore a gray button down and dark striped slacks. It wasn't as outlandish as he had been known to get but not quite professional neither.

"Damn spooks," E-Man said. "What the hell do they want?"

"Guess we'll find out."

A knock announced Mrs. Steed at the door.

"Show time," Jordan said. "Come in."

Mrs. Steed ushered in the two visitors. After the men came in, she left and closed the door. The older of the two stepped forward. He flipped open an ID.

"Special Agent Tom Stiles," he said. The ID picture looked just like the tall, mid to late fifties blond. "This is Agent William Thomas."

Jordan gave the photos a cursory glance and introduced himself and his partner. The two CIA agents fit the stereotype. They both wore black suits with black ties. Jordan noticed the bulges on their sides in the general area he carried his Heckler and Koch P7M. He started to say something about bringing guns into his office but decided to spare himself a lecture about the Second Amendment or Operational Parameters. He directed the men to the couch and chairs.

"I was just saying to Mr. Manning that we don't know you gentlemen."

"You probably wouldn't," Stiles said as he sunk into a leather chair. His voice was low and like gravel. "I've been on the special White House staff for the last six years, haven't done much field work lately."

"Yeah," Thomas said from the couch across from Stiles. A voice higher, less impressive, came from his thin dark frame. "And I've only been in the field for three months."

Jordan looked across the coffee table to E-Man lowering onto the couch. He nodded just enough for Jordan to notice.

"What can we do for you?" Jordan asked.

"Yeah, but we ain't going back to Russia!" E-Man said.

Jordan frowned as the joke fell flat. "It was just an embassy." A quick look explained his displeasure.

"Which is technically Russia," E-Man said and sank deeper into the couch.

Stiles placed his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. "No, we don't want you to go to Russia." He sorted through the case. "We want to do something for you."

Jordan and E-Man leaned in. Stiles closed the case and produced a file.

"Do you gentlemen remember Cody Random?"

E-Man made a sound in the back of his throat. Jordan, face at neutral merely stared at Stiles.

Did I remember Cody Random? How could he not? That hot night in Miami. When Jordan killed Random's brother Michael. Yes, he remembered. It wasn't everyday Jordan killed someone, even in the dangerous world of his past life. But if that wasn't enough, the days following were equally memorable. At the trial, Random made quite a show. Jordan and E-Man were called upon as witnesses in the state's case against Random. During Jordan's testimony, Random exploded – vowing vengeance. To never rest until he had killed his brother's killer. He did his duty, still Jordan understood the pain. He could only imagine what it would be like to see his sister killed before his eyes.

He cocked his head to the left slightly. "That depends. Are you read in?"

Stiles' face did something could be interpreted as a smile. "I'm read in on everything."

Jordan raised his chin. I hate the CIA.

"The name sounds familiar."

"Well," Stiles said, "He certainly remembers you. Here." Stiles handed Jordan the file. Inside were various news clipping and photos. They all had a central theme: Jordan Noble.

"I think Random knew more about you than you do, huh?" Thomas said. "We collected this from his cell down in Florida."

Jordan continued through the file. His promotion to major. The separation from the Air Force. Well, the public version. It was all in there.

"Are my eyes really brown?" Jordan closed the file and handed it to E-Man. "Y'know, that's all very interesting, but why are you telling me this?"

Stiles groaned and took back the file. "Cody Random escaped from the federal pen he was being held two days ago."

Jordan's brow knotted in anger. E-Man whistled a high note.

"Given Random's interest in you," Thomas said, "We thought you'd want a heads up."

"What's up with that, anyway?" E-Man asked. "Why we have anything to do with Random? He was just some damn drug dealer with a passport."

"He was operating on an Air Force Base in Germany," Stiles said. "Thus, the Department of Defense's interest."

"Sounds like a job for Office of Special Investigations," Jordan said, referring to the Air Force's federal law enforcement agency which provided independent criminal investigations.

An awkward pause elapsed. "I'm sure I don't know," Stiles said.

"Uh huh," E-Man said. "So where is Random now?"

"We're not sure," Stiles said and turned his cool blue eyes to E-Man. "Federal, state and local authorities are looking for him now. It's the considered opinion that Random's on his way here, to Detroit."

E-Man stood up and walked to the window. "To do the whole vengeance thing. Well, that's just great."

Jordan narrowed his eyes. It wasn't the time for the 'evils of the federal government' routine. E-Man deflated.

"Any leads?" E-Man said.

Thomas said, "No. All we really know is that his traveling with his cellmate – one Oscar P. Norton."

E-Man turned to Thomas. "Norton? What's his story?"

"Murderer."

E-Man threw his hands in the air. "Oh, great! It's a party now. Damn! Well, what's the angle on Norton?"

Thomas looked at his partner. Stiles remained silent, like he was testing his younger partner's resolve.

Thomas said, "The FBI's got his place in Kentucky staked out, but we doubt if they'll show up there."

"No," E-Man said sitting back down. "We just have to wait 'til he shows up here."

"Look, man," Thomas said and leaned towards E-Man, "I feel you. But this escape, man, it was flawless. It's like they had inside -"

"Like we said," Stiles interrupted, "we're pretty clueless."

Jordan watched the interplay between E-Man and Thomas. He too had been measuring his partner's action. E-Man was usually the calm, cool, collected one. At least in the face of authority. E-Man got a strange kind of pleasure out of showing the suits he didn't care about anything. Jordan slipped a smile at his friend's concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles slowly nodding his head as he evaluated his own partner. He cleared his throat. "OK, you don't know where he is. Any idea what he's been up to? Anyone visit him?"

"Yeah," Stiles said and produced another page from his briefcase. "Some lawyer, Daniel Moore."

Jordan took the page, a bio and scanned it. "You've questioned Moore." Jordan stated more than asked.

"Wish we could," Thomas said.

"Killed about six hours after the breakout," Stiles said.

"Seems Random didn't waste time covering his tracks." Jordan's face was still on the bio. "Says Moore worked for a Donald K. Warrington. Who's he?"

"Only the biggest distributor of designer drugs on the West Coast," Stiles said. "Practically cornered the gray market there."

"Designer drugs, huh?" Jordan said, his head came up for a moment. "That figures. Random was trying to create some super drug when we busted him. But why off this Moore guy?"

Thomas sat forward and gestured. "The way we figure it, Random wasn't interested in going out to the West. See, we think that Random got help from the Warrington operations, escaped and high tailed to Detroit. He probably killed Moore so Warrington wouldn't know anything went wrong until it was too late."

Jordan nodded at the explanation. "All this to get to me. I'm touched. But that still leaves one question..."

Stiles and Thomas regarded each other as Jordan paused. He turned to E-Man giving him the go ahead.

"Why is the CIA involved?" E-Man asked.

Thomas's face bore a puzzled expression as if he didn't know why the CIA was involved. Stiles smiled devilishly and stood up, his partner stood as well.

"Let's just say there's a national interest here," Stiles said.

Jordan came to his feet. He was in the Defense Intelligence Agency long enough to know that 'national interest' translated into 'none of your business'. He extended his hand to Stiles, "Thanks for the warning, Agent Stiles."

"Not a problem," Stiles said. He shook Jordan's hand. Next to them, E-Man and Thomas exchanged handshakes.

"Yo," E-Man said as if an idea just occurred to him, "maybe we can help you out?"

"Oh, no," said Thomas, "This is a government matter. You're just civilians now. No, just keep your eyes open. We'll handle Cody Random."

"Yeah, whatever." E-Man looked at Thomas with a bit of disgust. His voice was high and proper. He had probably been out of the 'hood for a while if he was ever in. Jordan knew from experience that didn't sit well with E-Man.

The men all headed for the door. As they reached the portal, Stiles turned to Jordan. He handed the detective his card. "I want you to call me if you find out anything or see Random, OK?" He smiled like a politician as Jordan took the card.

"Sure," Jordan said. "No problem."

Stiles took a step closer to Jordan. His smile widened. "You may not know me, but I certainly know you. You two made quite the name for yourselves while you were DIA agents. Something like...mavericks, right?"

"Something like that."

Stiles smile vanished. "Well, no mavericks on my watch, get me? I do things by the book. You were a good agent, Noble. That's why I warned you. But you're a civilian now. Stay out of this." The smile returned. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Good day."

Stiles turned and left the room. Thomas's eyes darted about and sought out the floor. He mumbled a goodbye and ran out after his superior. Jordan and E-Man stood at the doorway.

"What the fuck, over?" Jordan asked.

"Please, E-Man closed his eyes. "Please don't talk Air Force to me. You know I hate that."

Jordan chuckled and went to his desk. E-Man said, "Can you believe this? What's with him? I mean, do you really think we're just gonna sit here and wait for Random to come and kill you?"

Jordan bounced his shoulders. "Sure, why not. Hey, I'm selling the Ambassador Bridge too. Want to buy it?"

E-Man snorted a short laugh.

"Guess I got to cancel Don and Malcolm's day off," Jordan said. "Looks like we've got work to do."

Chapter Three: It Was Bad Then

Jordan's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he exited the John C. Lodge Freeway. Physically he was merging onto the Ford Freeway eastbound, but in his mind, he was back in a Miami alleyway. Until now, Cody Random was a distant memory that tapped on the door of his consciousness once in a great while. Now the spectre of Random had return.

I don't need this. Not right now. It was bad then.

~

Then.

At least the Miami courtroom was empty, saved for the necessary parties of the attorneys, judge, recorder and bailiffs. The Defense Department's request for only the most necessary persons be present was honored. It would do Jordan Noble and Eric Manning little good to be paraded in a public trial given the classified nature of their work.

Reporters protested as did the defense team. But as Cody Random was afforded his constitutional right of a speedy trial, an open forum was not a requirement.

Jordan and E-Man wore the monkey suits – Service Dress of the US Air Force complete with tie and jacket filled with ribbons and metals. It was part of the show, of course. As the two came in from a side entrance, judge and bailiffs all sat a little straighter in the presence of a couple of 'America's heroes'. Far removed from Cody Random's prison orange with accompanying wrist and leg irons. Jordan didn't know much about 'optics' but even he knew this looked bad.

The plan was for the Air Force personnel to deliver their testimonies in the course of one day. The court would, the following day, reopen its doors to the general public. That was the plan.

Things started normally. The judge began with some housekeeping items, a recap of the prior day's events. And a wholly unneeded explanation of the closed-door session. The Representative for the People, a sharp dress blond woman with impressive credentials had been fully briefed, to an unclassified level, of Jordan and E-Man's involvement. The Defense, a fattish man named Clark from a pool of public defenders, huffed and puffed but was likewise knowledgeable of covert operatives among them.

The session began. E-Man was called forth. He testified to the operation beginning in Germany at Ramstein Air Base. That Random was distributing a controlled substance out of the enlisted quarters. This substance, Random dubbed crush was a variation of cocaine and no less dangerous or profitable. Really, more so on both accounts. When the profit margin was cut, due to an airman whose room Random operated demanding a bigger cut, Random killed him.

E-Man might as well had been talking about the weather to judge Random's reaction. The wild-eyed blond inspected his nails, shifted in his seat and at one point, yawned silently. His counsel leaned over to whisper something to which Random sucked air sharply through his teeth.

E-Man was released and Jordan was next. He was sworn in.

"Please state your name," Clark asked.

"Jordan Noble. Captain, United States Air Force."

"And what do you do, captain, for the Air Force?"

"Objection, Your Honor." The People's Representative said coming to her feet. "The records show that the witness has been vetted and given the nature of his work within the military-"

"Yes, yes, yes," Clark said. "Withdrawn."

The next ten minutes was a repeat of the questions directed at E-Man. Eventually, they got to Miami.

The fat lawyer rested his arm on the rail around the witness stand. "So, captain. As I understand it, you and my client were alone in the alley at," A pause as he consulted his notes. "Miami and First."

"Yes, sir," Jordan said.

"How long?"

"Sir?"

"How long were you and my client alone in the alley?"

Jordan paused but didn't move. His eyes locked on the lawyer's. Jordan liked to think it freaked him out a little. "I would say, two, two and half minutes."

"Plenty of time to assess the situation for danger."

"I don't follow, sir."

"I'm sure you do."

"And I'm sure, if I say I don't follow, then that is the case." Jordan gave Clark his 'fuck with me if you want to' stare.

"Your Honor." The blond was on her feet again. "Is there a question here?"

The fat lawyer whirled to the blond, then back to Jordan. "How's this: Captain Noble, how many times have you been in mortal danger?"

Jordan sniffed. "A few."

"Enough to recognize it?"

"Once is enough for that, so yes."

The lawyer put his hands behind his back and wandered in a slow circle. Probably something he saw on "Law & Order". "So, since you are capable, by your own admission, to recognize an immediate threat to your person, it is fair to say you were in no danger in the alley."

"Initially."

The lawyer turned back to the witness. "Initially?"

"Yes, as in 'at the beginning'."

"I'm aware of the meaning of the word. I'm curious as to how a man of your talents, an expert as it were, did not detect a threat to your life in the alley."

Jordan sighed. "Sir, I don't-"

"I'm curious why you shot Michael Random, the client's brother. Maybe it wasn't because you were in danger at all."

"That's crazy. Michael Random was hiding."

"Was he?"

"Of course, he was. Why else would I fire?"

"I'll ask the questions, captain. But since you asked, I'll tell you. You fired because you had no case. The evidence connecting my client to Germany was laughable at best. But, if you tie him to an attempted murder, especially to a fine officer like yourself, you could 'take down' my client."

"What? I'm not even a cop. I don't take down anyone!"

"Yet you shot my client's brother!"

"Are you kidding me? The guy had a gun on me. Pointed at my back – not the actions of an innocent man."

"Captain Noble –"

"Liar!" The entire room switched vision from the witness stand to Defense table. Cody Random was atop the table, on his back, rolling over it. A pause passed through the room as no one could believe the shackled man was flipping over the desk. Random got to his feet and rushed Jordan Noble. The man literally growled. Jordan rose to the feet and prepared for an assault. The judge banged his gavel. Before the attack happened, two bailiffs wrestled Random to the floor. The scene slipped further into the surreal.

"I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you." Foam flew from Random's lips. He reached over and bit one of the guards. "I had you. I fucking had you, you bastard. You should be dead! Not Michael. You! You!"

The guards got Random to his feet. They dragged him from the room, legs kicking in every direction. Screaming and crying of a madman sounded until the bailiffs pulled Random through a door. It slammed and silence returned.

"No further questions," the lawyer said.

~

Now.

Jordan jammed the shifter into fifth gear and the Vette roared accordingly. The car's speed hovered close to ninety mph through the early afternoon traffic. Cars were reduced to blurs of color. Jordan rotated the wheels this way and that. The tires screeched and the other drivers sounded their horns.

"This reminds me of that time in Cairo," E-Man said.

Jordan turned to his passenger. A part of him forgot he wasn't alone.

E-Man rolled his head over to Jordan. "You know, that time when those terrorists were chasing us." Jordan flipped his vision between E-Man and the vehicles heading his way at close to a hundred miles an hour.

"Terrorists were always chasing us."

"Not always."

Jordan blew a long sigh. He knew E-Man was trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, he liked his mood nice and dark.

"'Sup?" E-Man said, his head lazily rolled on the head rest.

"You're screwing with me, right?" Jordan turned to his passenger a second too long. E-Man pointed through the windshield. Jordan followed the finger and turned the wheel sharply to miss a Buick.

"I saw it."

"Sure. Again, what's up with you?"

Jordan muttered a curse. It went unheard over the roar of the engine. "E, some guy out there is trying to kill me. Excuse me as I get moody on you."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" Jordan dropped the Vette into fourth and zipped across three lanes to exit the freeway. "Assassination ain't on my schedule. I'm still financing half the equipment in the office, I got more paperwork and licensing to deal with and I still have to go furniture shopping."

"Don't forget Jerome."

The shifter was forced back down into second. "And I gotta deal with your shit, too."

E-Man pointed to the gearbox. "You gonna mess up your transmission like that."

Jordan brought the sports car to a halt at a traffic light. His face was tight while E-Man's mug couldn't be more relaxed. He sent a finger E-Man's way. "Yo, man, what's the matter with you? You're being a real ass right now!"

E-Man held hands up to fend off the verbal assault, "Chill out. I just don't know why you trippin'. Hell, as much as we used to jump into crap, I thought you got off on that kind of stuff."

Jordan's first mind was to defend himself but he considered the truth. He hadn't exactly lived a 'safe' life. Things were bad enough when he and E-Man were intelligence operatives. But now as private detectives, they still crossed paths with danger. So far, nothing that compared with international terrorist networks, but the principle was the same. So now, Jordan had to ask himself, why was this particular incident bothering him?

"It's just..." The words came out haltingly, "It's just that I thought this matter was closed and done. I can't help but wonder how many more people are out there in the wings, waiting for a chance at me."

E-Man punched Jordan's shoulder. "Hell, bruh, I knew that's what was bothering you."

Jordan flashed a look of false spite. "You Dr. Phil now, huh?"

Before E-Man could answer, a horn sounded from the car behind them. Jordan looked up to see the light had changed to green. The pair were en route to Don Ross' house on Nottingham. It was over on the city's east side off the Ford Freeway. It was a good guess Don and Malcolm Ewing, the two remaining UrbanKnights would be at Don's.

Jordan tried to contact them before leaving the office. But all attempts directed him to answering services. The next action was to track the pair down to their most likely location. Jordan felt a little guilty for cutting their day off short, but he had a feeling he'd need the pair's talents before this case was over.

Jordan made a right onto Nottingham. The neighborhood had really gone downhill since the days he and his friends were kids. Don had inherited his boyhood home after his parents split. It was Jordan's secret wish Don would just walk away from it. With the ridiculous amount of money he was paying his team, Don could easily afford something better.

"It just makes you wonder," Jordan said, "is all this worth it. I mean, it's not right. We catch this guy and that's supposed to be it. Game over. But, oh no. Cody Random's got to escape and start this all over again."

"Yeah."

"So, does this mean everyone we ever caught is going to be coming for us?"

"'Us'?" E-Man said, a laugh behind his word. "Where you get this 'us' stuff?"

"You know what I mean," Jordan said. E-Man's attempts at humor wore on his nerves.

E-Man nodded. "Look, man, I do know what you mean, but hey, what you gonna do? I mean, this truth, justice and the American way is your gig. Don't look at me like that, you know it is. You could have done anything when you left the service, so don't go actin' like this murder and intrigue shit is too much for you."

Jordan pulled into the driveway of Don's house and stopped the car. "Yeah, but still. I do what's right, and I got to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."

"Bull," E-Man said. "You're feeling guilty for killing Random's brother."

"Yeah," Jordan said. It wasn't until that moment did he actually admitted it.

E-Man gripped Jordan's shoulder. "That the price we pay to do what we do. You know, instead of watching and complaining like everyone else."

Jordan nodded.

"Besides, you don't have to look over your shoulder 'cause I got your back."

The two men smiled. Men like them didn't spend time expressing their feeling. Years of shared exposure to dangers worldwide was expression enough.

"How many guys can there be out for you, anyway?"

Jordan felt a chill at these words. How many, indeed?

"You coming?"

Jordan looked up. E-Man was out of the car and made his way to the porch. Jordan followed him. He took two steps at a time as he mounted the porch. The house was an old brick two story structure Detroit was once known for. A perfect home for the middle class emerging after World War II on a street of similar houses. Now however, all of that was distant memory. Few houses had lawns still green. Half the houses on the block were abandoned or descended upon by squatters. The other half were on their way to the same fate.

E-Man raised his hand to knock on the door. Before he could strike, Jordan touched his arm.

"Look, E, this Random is a pretty dangerous dude. He could eat Don and Malcolm for breakfast."

A pang of guilt. Jordan knew Don and Malcolm wouldn't be anywhere near this if he hadn't hired them. A year ago, when Jordan formed the UrbanKnights, all the detectives had some sort of law enforcement background. But when it came to the Special unit, he filled it with persons who, besides E-Man had no discernable skills at the more violent nature of the business. They had never been in the service or, to Jordan's knowledge held, let along fired a weapon. Their only qualification was they both knew Jordan for years. True, Don had skills with computers that would make half of Silicone Valley jealous. And Malcolm, he was funny. He was like Jordan's own local informant. But dealing with violent criminals...

"OK, I see." E-Man said. "You want to face off with Cody Random alone. You're desperate to separate yourself from Malcolm and Don – hell, you'll probably try to kick me to the curb. Alone, Random would eat you for breakfast. Well, it ain't happening."

"E -"

"No. Look, man. If we gonna do this, we gonna do it right. It's all for one and one for all and all that crap. We knew what we were getting into when we signed up. All of us."

Jordan shook his head. "E, I don't think this is something I have to do alone. I don't always go through the hero complex when something like this happens. But the CIA is involved. This is serious. I just think we don't need to have Malcolm and Don bumping around more than they have too." "No moves like in Italy," E-Man said.

"Italy?" Jordan asked. He stopped to recalled the event from his memory. "Wait a minute. That was the time -"

"That's not important."

"OK, OK. But Italy was your own damn fault."

"Bullshit."

Jordan's eyes widened. "I told you she was the ambassador's daughter."

"Hey," E-Man said. "That's not important."

"Fine. In any case, if you want in on the Random case, you got it. But Heckle and Jeckle, are strictly sideliners."

"Bet," E-Man said with an air of finality as he knocked on the door. "You know, you got to stop saying things like Heckle and Jeckle, though."

"What? Too immature?"

"Too mature. Don't nobody remember that shit."

Chapter Four: An Unlikely Pair

"Where the hell are these guys?" Jordan craned his neck to look into the window. Grime dating back to the turn of the century prevented a view within. E-Man leaned over to see into the driveway running along the house.

"Car's in the drive." E-Man reported of the red BMW he saw.

Jordan and E-Man exchanged worried glances. They knocked three more times and still no response. A sense of dread clutched at Jordan's heart as he expected the worse. Cody Random was clever. It wouldn't have taken much for him to find out about Jordan's new partners. Almost without thought, the Heckler & Koch P7M filled Jordan's hand as E-Man welded his Beretta Px4 Storm. The men took positions on either side of the door. Jordan scanned the street to see if they were attracting any attention. It was Detroit, but still, two black men with guns tended to catch people's eye. Fortunately, the early-afternoon street was devoid of life. Jordan turned to check on E-Man's progress. The thinner man fished in his pockets for the door key Don had entrusted to him. The key slipped effortlessly into the hole. The door swung open with a creak. Jordan and E-Man peeked in and saw the foyer was empty. Jordan gestured for E-Man to enter. E-Man went into a low crouch. Jordan, at full height, was a second behind him.

The interior of the house presented no surprises. In fact, it looked exactly the same as the last time they had been there. The pair entered a darken, scarcely furnished living room. A ghostly silence hung in the air. Quiet, dark and empty. Jordan often commented that it was the most depressing house in Detroit. On the plus side, the few furnishings meant there were fewer things to absorb sound. However, the darkness worked against them as anyone in the house would already be adapted to the lack of light, while the detectives' eyes were still adjusting from the brighter outside.

E-Man started for the dining room. A voice floated from some unseen corner of the home. The detectives whirled towards the sound, guns first. They paused for a moment to try and pick up any more sounds. None came. Jordan pointed to the doorway on the far end of the dining room. E-Man headed in the direction. Through the portal was the kitchen. A week worth of dishes was stacked in a sink that would have been fashionable in 1986.

"On your right." The voice rose from beneath the floor. They crept to the door ahead of them. With a squeak, E-Man slowly opened the door, revealing stairs going down. Their backs flat against the walls, Jordan and E-Man inched down the stairs. At the bottom, there was still more darkness. A handful of seconds went by and their eyes adjusted to the din. Ahead of them, a glow, almost a halo. The shapes emerged from the nimbus of light like specters abandoning a crypt. A pair of spheres – half spheres, actually, hovered over a field of blackness. Or, two heads resting on the back of a couch in front of a television.

Don Ross and Malcolm Ewing had some strange ways. In many ways, they were nothing alike. They argued constantly. The topics of their debate ranged from such matters as which superhero was better, Batman or Spider-Man, to moral injustice of the US's foreign policy in Africa. Once you got use to them, almost nothing they did surprised you. The scene Jordan and E-Man walked in on was no exception.

The room had been converted into a den of sort. It was unfinished with a cold stone floor below and pipes crisscrossing the ceiling. Yet, Don was able to find the time to equip the level with a fifty-two-inch TV and accompanying gaming system.

"Get him, get him, get him!" Malcolm said.

Jordan holstered his gun, laughing to himself. He peered over the shoulders of his seated partners and saw on the TV a football video game. The players had on headphones and were oblivious to the presence of Jordan and E-Man. Jordan went to tap Don on the shoulder but E-Man gestured for him to stop. He positioned himself between the electronically comatose pair. Jordan covered his face and shook his head. E-Man latched down on both shoulders, violently shook both his arms and yelled at the top of his lungs. Don Ross flung his game controller into the air and Malcolm leapt forward, tripped and landed on his face.

"Jesus Chr- !" Malcolm said from the floor.

"What the Hell!" Don said.

E-Man stumbled backward and hugged himself as he laughed uncontrollably. Jordan tried vainly to contain his amusement and chuckle from the stairwell.

"That ain't funny, man," Malcolm said. He picked himself up and adjust his glasses disrupted in the fall. He was the smallest of the men with a skin darker than Jordan yet lighter than E-Man. He wore a Pistons jersey with jeans. "What's wrong with you, man?" His voice was high and nasal.

E-Man said, "Ah, man, you should had seen your faces!"

Don and Malcolm exchanged glances. Their faces were far from mirth. It didn't look like neither one thought E-Man's attempt at humor was a success. E-Man sat on the couch in the spot that Malcolm held. He looked at Malcolm with a false display of sympathy. After a few moments, Malcolm resistance crumbled and he smiled and finally laughed at E-Man's foolhardiness.

"Payback's a bitch," Malcolm said. His voice was lined with anger but the growing smile revealed his acceptance of the prank.

"This is my scared face," E-Man said.

Jordan walked to the couch while Don went to the game and paused it.

"What are you doing here so late?" Don said. He was the tallest and the widest. His gear was a black tee with gray sweatpants.

Jordan and E-Man turned and arched their eyes brows at each other.

"What time do you think it is?" E-Man asked.

Don shrugged. "I dunno. Two...Three in the morning."

Malcolm stood up, his cell phone in hand. "Holy crap, it's eleven forty-five!"

Jordan said, "What the hell were you two doing down here."

Don gestured to the frozen picture on the screen. "Uh, football?"

"The game?" Jordan asked.

"It's the playoffs," Malcolm said.

"The game. The video game?"

"What's the big deal?" Malcolm asked. "If it was Foreign Combat, it would be OK?"

"No." Jordan paused a moment as his jacket got caught on something jagged protruding from the wall. "I can't believe you lost so much time paying make-believe football!"

E-Man got from the couch and wandered away, leaving a trail of laughs in his wake. Don leaned against the wall. "What's up?"

"We need a little info," Jordan said, "Wanted to see if you could help."

Don formed his hand like a gun. "Shoot." He was never one for a lot of words.

"E-Man and I are looking for someone who may be trying to hook up with someone in the drug trade."

"Lot of someones," Don said.

Jordan ignored him. "This person we're looking for is big in designer drugs. Who's the biggest designer drug dealer in the Metro?"

" 'Dirty' Paul Monroe," Malcolm said. The answer came without hesitation.

Jordan whipped his head to the voice. "Whoa. You sure?"

Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "Of course I'm sure." He responded in a false air of arrogance. "Who are you looking for?"

"It's nothing important," Jordan said. "Don't worry about it." His lie came out without a flinch.

"Malcolm shrugged. "No biggie. I just thought I could help out." Jordan hadn't counted on Malcolm being so persistent. Truth be told, he realized there was no other way to account for Malcolm. Persistence was synonymous with Malcolm. Jordan glanced over at E-Man. He knew his partner recognized the look. E-Man's response was to turn his head to a stain on the couch. Jordan sighed at the betrayal.

He turned to the stairs. "It's no thang, Malcolm, don't worry about it. It's just some case E and I came across." He waved his hand to indicate the matter was unimportant. As Jordan passed E-Man, he tapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go and find this Dirty Paul."

Before E-Man could move, Malcolm came to his feet. "I know where you can find him."

Damn! Jordan thought.

He owns the Quakes night club," Malcolm said.

"Quakes?" E-Man asked. "Never heard of it."

"It's in Plymouth," Malcolm said with a shrug.

"Plymouth? What were you doing out there?" Don asked from behind Malcolm. Don had a way of suddenly breaking his silence at key moments.

"Yeah," E-Man asked with a smile. "That's a little out of your usual stomping grounds, isn't it?"

Malcolm smiled nervously as Don and E-Man verbally boxed him in, "Well, you know - I get around."

"Uh huh," E-Man and Don said in near unison. They both smiled at the joke going on. In the Metro Detroit area, like many cities in America, the inner city was mostly African Americans, while the suburbs were the home of whites. Plymouth was in the outer ring of Detroit's suburbs and nearly all white. This wouldn't be an issue if every other minute Malcolm wasn't contributing every ill of African Americans' to white America, especially rich 'white America'. It was part of his charms as a 'part-time' member of the Nation of Islam.

"Anyway," Malcolm said, speaking faster, "I'm sure Big Paul will be at Quakes tonight, so let's go."

E-Man turned around. Jordan's failing attempt to keep Malcolm and Don uninvolved was more than a little entertaining. Jordan frowned.

"It's Monday," Jordan said. "I'm sure the club's closed tonight."

"Are you kidding?" Malcolm said. "Man, Quakes is jumpin' every night!"

What's with this guy?

"What about your game?" Jordan gestured at the still frame on the TV screen. "I gave you the day off. E and I can handle this. So..."

"We'll probably out of the rotation by now," Don said. "We have to wait until tomorrow."

"Wait," E-Man shook his head. "There are more people involved in this playoff thing? Don't these people have jobs?"

"Charles works nights, and Joe..." Don's eyes went to the ceiling.

"Forget I asked."

"Back to the case - we weren't doin' nothin' no how," Malcolm said. "We can help out. I mean, this is why you hired us." He turned to Don. "Want to go?"

Don shrugged. "OK."

I don't believe this. Jordan shook his head. To continue protesting would raise suspicion. He felt his own rational for hiring this pair coming back to haunt him.

"All right," Jordan said, "you can come. Let's go."

He mounted the stairs and E-Man jogged to catch him. They said nothing for a few steps.

"Traitor," Jordan whispered.

"Hey, bruh, all for one and one for all!"

Jordan shook his head at E-Man's reply. He really didn't want Malcolm and Don involve with Cody Random. This was a personal matter. If anything should happen to his friends, he would feel it was his fault. He comforted himself with a thought.

Well, may be nothing will come of this 'Big Paul' guy. Maybe I can keep Don and Malcolm out of this mess yet.

Yeah, right.
Chapter Five: The UrbanKnights' Night Out

Malcolm was right. Quakes was on jam – on a Monday no less. It took twenty minutes just to get through the door. The club was real state of the art. Three levels, six bars, laser beams and smoke filled the air above the dance floor. Everything stationary was covered with neon lights. The crowd was, as Don and E-Man predicted, almost all white. Most of the patrons looked like Millennials, with their suits and ties. Here and there, was a black guy, usually alone or with a white woman. It was possible these scattering of brothers lived in Plymouth, but most likely, they were from the city, on the prowl for the 'forbidden fruit'.

The place thundered to the sound of R&B and 'dance' music. Once upon a time, the musical taste this far from Detroit's streets ran toward rock. Now, everyone was down with hip-hop and the urban sound.

Jordan was in a tan T-shirt and black slacks. He topped it all off with his A-2 leather jacket – the only thing from his assignment at Minot Air Force Base he ever wore. He thought of it as his 'work' coat. As it turned out, he would have been appropriately dressed in a suit. He was going to have to do a better job at reading and blending into his environment. As it stood now, he was almost more familiar with the Middle East than his own hometown. Well, he had Malcolm and Don to cover for him until he got up to speed. He knew Don since high school and Malcolm since college. And unlike Jordan and E-Man they never left the city. Jordan knew Detroit like a native but haven't lived within her borders for so long, subtleties could be looming.

Like this bar. Apparently, it was an after-work hangout and almost everyone wore business casual or better. Every now and then, a woman would pass Jordan's position at the bar. She'd laugh softly and whisper to her girlfriend. Presently, one of the few black women in the club walked by. She stopped and turned to Jordan. Her gray jacket and black pencil skirt was all business.

"You're a little underdressed," she said to Jordan with a low seductive voice.

"It's not the packaging..."

The woman smiled slightly, "That's cute. Are there any more witty remarks where that came from?"

"Maybe."

The woman leaned forward and slipped a business card into the inside pocket of Jordan's jacket. "I'd love to hear more. Call me."

And with that, she walked away, disappearing into the crowd. He shook his head. So much theatre and acting – not that he didn't mind the attention but it was all unnecessary. He looked across the bar. It was a circle with the bar staff in the center. Opposite his position, E-Man was in a leather Pistons jacket and blue jeans. Jordan shrugged his shoulders at his partner. E-Man dipped his head, no doubt hiding his grin.

Jordan's chest got tight and for a moment, he considered just going home. If it wasn't for Usher's "Yeah" (it must have been old school night or something) Jordan could have sworn they were in Turkey. Or United Arab Emirates. Or a dozen other similar assignments. For a moment, he felt they were trailing some terrorist or suspected terrorist or whoever the Defense Department had loosened them on. What was he doing here? And why was he doing it? Sure, Cody Random had personally targeted Jordan, but misgivings aside, he could have let the CIA handle this.

But there it was – the rub. Why was the CIA involved? They weren't cops? But then again, neither were Jordan or E-Man or Heckle and Jeckle and it didn't stop their manhunt. Something more was to Cody Random than met the eye. That wasn't the point. None of this was Jordan's business anymore. Instead of looking into the loan for the house off the Detroit River, he was in some nightclub in BFE, hunting a drug dealer. What was it that E-Man said: I thought you got off on that kind of stuff. Did he?

The music switched and Zhane's "Groove Thang" played. Jordan remembered it from back in the day. The familiar bassline snapped him back to the now.

OK, down to business.

Jordan signaled the bartender. The muscle-bound man in the bowtie immediately came over.

"Yes, sir. What can I get you?"

"Nothing right now," Jordan said, "I was wondering if Paul was in."

The bartender's face remained unchanged. "Sorry, friend. No Paul here."

Jordan flashed a look of puzzlement. "Are you sure? There's no...Big Paul Monroe here?"

The bartender leaned closer to Jordan. "You kinda nosy, pal."

"My friends are too," Jordan's expression stayed at neutral as he put his hand up on the bar. Beneath the tips of his fingers was a folded hundred-dollar bill. The bartender made a short humorless laugh. His hand blurred and he snatched up the bill.

"You just bought yourself a whole lot of pain, pal."

Jordan curved the corner of his mouth. Whether they're couriers for a terrorist organization or bartenders that double as muscles for local drug dealers, lackeys are all the same. They always think their boss is the baddest mother in the valley. The bartender waved for one of his counterparts to cover for him. When the equally musclebound barkeep came over, the first gestured for Jordan to follow him. Jordan got out of his seat and snaked his way through the crowd. He flashed a look at E-Man. The responding nod was so slight, only Jordan could have possibly noticed.

The bulky barkeep guided Jordan through the crowd. Finally, they reached a door marked 'Employees Only'. The barkeep opened the door and stood to the side.

"After you," he said.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Who?"

"Forget it."

Sam followed Jordan through the door. When it closed, only the baseline penetrated. The single hallway's floor was lined with crates of alcohol of various types. The deco included the finest in beer posters. The lights were spaced far apart causing moments of darkness followed by intense light. Sam grunted from behind. Jordan turned to see the bartender pointing down a short hall. At the end, another man stood in front of a door. He nodded as Sam gave him an OK sign. Jordan took that to mean it was permissible for him to pass.

The big guy was dress like Sam - bow tie, white shirt and black trousers. Only this guy favored one side as if he had something heavy on his hip. He gestured for Jordan to lift his arms to do a weapons search. The man stood up after the search, reached over and knocked on the door. From the inside, the door opened. Yet another weight-lifter stood at the portal. His frame filled the entire doorway.

"Yeah?" the new guy said.

"This guy's clean," the first bouncer said, "let 'em in."

The inside man stood to one side and let Jordan pass. He was the first of the trio with original attire. He wore a brown suit also with a weight on one side. He looked down at Jordan from his four-inch height advantage with a glance that must have come out of the 'How to Look Scary' guide book.

The room was an office, small and overcrowded. On the left set a red leather couch with a trio of scantily clad women. They represented the ethnic diversity of the Metro Detroit area: white, African American and Arabic. The walls were covered with paintings of women in unnatural poses. In the center of the room, a great oak desk dominated. Beyond was a small bathroom. Inside a man balanced a phone between his ear and shoulder. Presently, he left the bathroom and reentered the room. He was the smallest thing in the room at five five, if he was lucky. He wore an open silk white shirt over his bony chest. His head was covered with wavy dark hair. His face betrayed a Southern European origin.

The little guy tossed his phone to the bodyguard, all the while focused on Jordan. "Who the hell is this here?" he asked.

Jordan smiled, trying to contain his laughter. It was like a Joe Pesi sound alike contest or something. "You must be Big Paul Monroe."

Big Paul shifted his weight onto one leg as he leaned on his desk. "Yeah, and who the fuck are you, tough guy?"

Jordan took a step. The big bodyguard quickly stepped forward, extending his arm. Jordan lifted his right eyebrow at the giant. He shrugged and decided to play along. When he stepped back, the huge man visibly relaxed.

"I was led to believe that you are a man with great influence in certain arenas. I just want a little information, Paul," Jordan said with a smile.

"My sainted mother called me Paul. It's Mr. Monroe to you, jerkoff." Paul dropped into the chair behind the desk. "Now, And what you got for me, Jerky?"

Jordan bared his teeth, partly to portray a friendly air, partly to relieve his need to laugh at the tiny man. "Think of it as . . . your civil duty."

Paul squawked in laughter. He gestured to his trio of women. "Getta load of this guy!" The women all giggled. Paul suddenly stood to his full height, such as it was. "You must be a retard or somethin'! Comin' in here makin' demands like that!" He turned to his bodyguard, "You! Yeah, you! What I pay you for! Throw this here asshole outta here!"

"C'mon, Paul...Mister Monroe," Jordan said, his hands up in surrender. "Can't we all just get along? You help me and -"

"Why am I listenin' to this!"

The large man's meat hooks he passed off for hands dug into Jordan's shoulders and dragged him towards the door. Jordan sprang into action. In a blur of movement, he grabbed his giant assailant's hands and forced him to release his hold. Before anyone could react, he caught the guard in a chokehold and threw him to the floor. As the behemoth lay stunned, Jordan relieved him of his hidden gun, a .357. He twisted the man's arm and jabbed his foot into his neck. As the bodyguard lay gasping for air, Jordan trained the gun on the man's employer.

"You were saying?" Jordan said. His voice was even. His heartbeat varied little in its beats per minute.

"Shit!" Paul shouted. "Are you crazy or somethin'?"

"Repeat that," Jordan said. The click of the .357 accompanied his words. The three women on the couch screamed their heads off.

Paul held up his hand. "Hey, hey, hey! Peace there, brother!"

Jordan's jaw tightened. "I'm looking for a man. Cody Random. Give him to me."

"Random who?" Paul asked. "You bustin' my balls? Who the hell is Random whatsit?"

Jordan put more weight on his leg on the bodyguard's throat. The action produced a gasp of pain from his captive. "I don't have time for this, Monroe."

" 'Kay, 'kay, 'kay," Paul said calmly, "Now let me see. You're looking for this Cody Randomhouse guy, right? Well, let me tell you somethin' there, Tough guy. Even if I knew what the fuck you were talkin' about, I wouldn't tell you jack, Jerky!'"

Jordan's eyes narrowed as he tried to determine the source of Big Paul's newfound courage. Suddenly, he felt the terribly familiar sensation of a gun barrel press to the back of his head. Sam had returned. Paul laughed over the sound of a weapon's bolt action.

"Ha! How now, there, Jerky!"

Jordan drew a breath as he let his weapon drop to the ground. Sam pushed Jordan forward and the bodyguard sprang to his feet. He nursed his neck as he came up in Jordan's face.

"You're mine, boy," he said.

Jordan rolled his eyes. "Cliché much?"

Another push from Sam and Jordan was at the edge of the monstrous desk. Paul wandered around and sat on the desk, inches from his prisoner. He slapped Jordan backhanded across the cheek. Jordan didn't move. The two men's eyes locked in a stare. Five seconds died and Paul returned to his seat. He laughed as he opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a cigar. Slowly, methodically, he lit the stogie. He blew a ring of smoke into Jordan's face. The trio giggled.

"You a real Tough Guy, huh? Bustin' up in here. Do you know who I am?" Paul asked. Jordan made no reply. "You know," another ring of smoke. "I hate Tough Guys. You think you so tough but when I'm through with you, there, you'll cry like a bitch."

Jordan smiled. "I doubt it."

The door exploded open. Sam turned to investigate. As he did, Jordan whirled, elbow first. His forearm smashed into Sam's nose. The bartender dropped to the floor. After kicking in the door, E-Man focused his aim of his Px4 Storm on the remaining bodyguard.

"Ladies, leave," E-Man said. In an instant, the trio was gone.

Jordan collected Sam's weapon, a Glock 19. He closed in on the bodyguard.

"Boy?" Jordan said. "I ought to kick your giant ass." He stared into the man's eyes. The body guard turned his vision down.

"What took you so long?" Jordan said.

"Some girl wanted my number," E-Man said.

Jordan nodded. "OK, I can see that. Cover these punks while I talk to my pal, Big Paul."

Jordan circled the desk and stood over the seated Paul. The criminal looked to be in shock over the sudden change in fortunes. Jordan leaned down and plucked the cigar out of Paul's mouth. He threw it across the room, bouncing it off Sam's head. Jordan grabbed Paul's collar and put his knee in the little man's chest. Paul gasped in pain. The anger flowed out of Jordan through his clenched teeth.

"This is getting old quick, Paul. I'd put a cap in your illiterate ass, but I still need you."

"Go spit!" Paul said.

Jordan put the Glock to Paul's temple. "Still cocky, huh? You think I don't know about your aces in the hole?" Jordan turned and addressed the room, "Malcolm! Don!"

Behind Paul, a pair of floor to ceiling painting of unnaturally endowed women pleasuring themselves slid upward into the ceiling. Two tunnels were revealed and out came Malcolm and Don.

"Did you know there were a pair of secret tunnels in here?" Malcolm said.

"You don't say?" E-Man said. "Is that where I found two guys, knocked them out and got these?" He drew a pair of pistols from his jacket.

Don and Malcolm took position on either side of the room, arms folded as they leaned against the wall. E-Man pushed the bodyguard and Sam to the couch. Paul stared opened mouth. On the ceiling a fan whooshed. Other than that, dead silence.

"Oh, shit!" Paul said. His smile seemed out of place amidst the beads of sweat at his forehead. "Hey, there. No hard feeling, huh?"

"Cody Random," Jordan said.

"I swear to God, I don't know no 'Cody Random'!" The smile was gone now and nothing disguised the pure panic on his face.

"That's too bad." Jordan said as he backed away. "What should I do with this useless bastard, Malcolm?"

"Blow his head off." Malcolm never turned away from the cellphone he had drawn out.

"You heard the man," Jordan said. He sighted the Glock center on Paul's forehead.

"Wait! Wait! Jesus! Don't kill me! Look, maybe I know who knows this guy!" Paul bounced an inch out of his seat but immediately sat back down.

Jordan turned the gun away. He looked over at E-Man standing over Sam. E-Man grinned. Jordan had done something similar to an Iranian oil executive. It was the threat of being thrown off a roof, but the principle was the same. He turned back to his diminutive hostage. "I thought you was the man to see for designer drugs?"

Paul's eyes seemed to water and a tremble was in his voice. "I am, there. But there's a few newbies who want to be the man."

"Names, Paul."

"Yeah, yeah." Paul raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Well there's only one guy who would know about this Random fella. He wants to branch out on his own, there..."

"Who!"

"Kevin Small! Geez, don't bite my head off, there!"

Jordan turned to E-Man and he gave his partner the nod. He leaned in close to Paul's face again.

"You don't know me, do you, Paul?" Jordan asked.

"

N-nah..." the word tripped out of Paul's mouth.

"That means I can sneak in like a shadow and blow your fucking head off, and you wouldn't know I was coming." Jordan paused to let his words sink in. If you're lying to me, that's just what I'm going to do. Feel me?"

"Y-yeah, I-I get ya."

Jordan stood up. He pointed to the bathroom. "Now get in there! All of you!"

"What!" Paul said, "It ain't big enough."

Jordan smiled. "I guess you're all going to get closer." The Glock flashed into Paul's face again. "Now, get!"

Hesitantly, Paul and his two men squeezed into the tiny bathroom. Malcolm went and closed the door.

"Now, make sure you wash your hands." He closed the door then jammed a chair under the doorknob. Immediately after the UrbanKnights left the room, the prisoners began banging and screaming for their release.

~

"It's a good thing we access those plans to the 'Quakes' blueprints before we left," Malcolm said. The detectives sped back to Detroit in a nondescript mini-van they used for occasions like this.

"Yeah," E-Man said, "or else we would have never known about those secret doors. Pretty lucky, huh?"

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Jordan said. "It was just good planning."

He didn't like Don and Malcolm were exposed to danger. They had no weapons. That wasn't their area of expertise. It was his and E-Man's realm. Their talents of computer hacking and profiling...networking - whatever the hell Malcolm did, was supposed to keep them out of harm's way. Jordan had let his need for comradery override his good sense.

Streetlights flowed by, filling the van with light and just as quickly vanishing. The rush of the road was in their ears as no one spoke for long tense minutes. Don gave Malcolm a go-ahead nod.

"Look, Jordan," Malcolm asked, "You are far too intense for this to be a regular case. What's going on?"

E-Man, from the front passenger seat turned to Jordan. Of course, this wasn't a regular case. Emotions twisted inside of Jordan. Don and Malcolm weren't trained to combat international criminals. But they were adults and deserved to know what they were getting into. And accordingly, make their own decisions.

"Be at the office tomorrow at 9:00," he said. I'll explain everything then."

The remainder of the journey, no one else said a word.

Chapter Six: A Portrait of Evil

It was well beyond the witching hour before Jordan was even close to stopping for the night. Years ago, this would have been so much easier. Trolling for information was a simple matter of requesting it from the data section in the basement of the Defense Intelligence Agency Headquarters – or the Defense Intelligence Analysis Center as it was known to the old guys. Now, sans active security clearance, Jordan was reduced to whatever was present on open source websites and anything he could get out of former colleagues.

He tapped feverously at his computer. The downtown office was as empty as Jefferson Avenue beyond the tall windows. Detroit had made an almost historic revival but not enough to make its downtown home to more than a few street people on a Monday night – Tuesday morning.

Seven o'clock in the morning came around when soft footfall sounded just beyond Jordan's door. The steps got closer and E-Man appeared in the half-opened doorway. Jordan grinned. E-Man had on a dark suit and tie. A near miracle. He dropped in his usual chair and Jordan recognized the look on his face. Disappointment with a touch of indifference. It was all in the way he held his mouth – lips tight and corners going in opposite directions. Jordan probably earned it. He was still in the T-shirt and black slacks. His A-2 hung on the back of his chair. He leaned back and waited for the judgement sure to come from his partner.

"What's up, E?"

E-Man examined the desk instead. He picked at the stack of computer printout's corners.

"Noble," he said slowly, "How long you been here?" Jordan was 'Noble' when he was in trouble. He looked up from the stack without raising his head. Jordan became 'Noble' when E-Man was annoyed.

"All night."

E-Man put his hand to his face and stared hard. "Why?"

Jordan reached over and lifted the pile. "I've been gathering information on Random."

E-Man reached out and Jordan put about half the stack in it - at least a hundred sheets.

"Have you slept?" E-Man asked.

Jordan shrugged at E-Man's question. "Some. A few hours. Sleep's overrated."

E-Man shifted in his chair. "Noble, man, is all this necessary?"

Jordan nodded. "Yes. You know how dangerous Random is."

E-Man nodded back. He had to agree with the statement. Random was a bad boy. He caused headaches for more than one law enforcement agency in his day. "Yeah, but still, I mean, we aren't even sure Random's anywhere near here yet."

Jordan held up a finger. He dug in the stack and produced three sheets. He handed them to his partner. They were news clips from Georgia, Kentucky and Ohio. Their common thread was a robbery of various chemicals amid great acts of violence.

E-Man shook his head. "I don't get it."

Jordan reared back in his chair. "I accessed the files on our arrest of Random four years ago."

"OK...Classified. How did you do that?"

"You remember that short girl in Records?"

"The blond?"

"No. She was in Acquisitions. The brunette. Always had her hair in a bun..."

E-Man lit up. "The Army lieutenant."

"Yeah. She's a captain now. And the sector chief. She always had a thing for me."

E-Man reared back his head as he laughed. "You trying to tell me you seduced it out of her?"

Jordan frowned. "Why you got to say it like that? Just because I didn't nail everything in a skirt..."

E-Man leaned forward. "It wasn't from lack of trying."

"Anyway, she provided me with a list of chemicals Random was using in his home lab when we busted him."

"You mean that set up he had in Miami?"

"Yup. I then set up a search for any theft of the same chemical in the past seventy-two hours. The computer generated a list." Jordan rotated the screen of his desktop. It showed a map of the Eastern United States. "See, these robberies all occurred within ten miles of I-75, and form a straight line from Florida to here."

E-Man's mouth dropped. "Damn." He read from the sheets he held. "According to this, only a small amount was stolen from each location. Not enough to really sell."

Jordan smiled. "True, but maybe enough to do something else."

"Like make a sample for a certain Kevin Small, maybe?"

"Bingo. See, you can be taught."

E-Man laughed. "You know, sometimes you really are as good a detective as you think you are, man."

"Screw you. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Random's on his way here and we need all the info on him we can get."

"Yeah." E-Man tossed the sheets back on the desk, "Especially Malcolm and Don. They don't know anything about Random."

"Yeah," Jordan's mind tackled the wisdom of involving Don and Malcolm. Not able to come to any conclusion, he tabled it. He looked at his watch. The Tag Heuer Aquagraph was a present to himself on his exit from the service.

"Hey, you call your mom, yet?" E-Man asked.

"Shoot. No. Maybe later."

"Whatever, man."

"Anyway, we've got a while 'til Don and Scooter show up, wanna get some breakfast?"

E-Man answered while standing. "Let's go."

~

By the time Jordan and E-Man returned, it was nearly a quarter to nine. The offices of the detective agency were starting to come to life. Ms. Brown sat at her desk. The phones were ringing at the ten cubicles on the first floor. And upstairs, Gloria Steed sorted the mail. The sound system played Ronny Jordan's "After Hours." Jordan and E-Man passed Don's office and saw him and Malcolm. They were in mid-argument.

"It has always been the position of the establishment to suppress the voice of the disenfranchised," Malcolm said. He wagged his finger.

"So low voter turnout is explained by some sort of suppression?" Don asked.

"Exactly."

"And you really believe this?"

"And you don't?"

"Ah," E-Man said, "Mornings at the UrbanKnights Detective Agency." Don and Malcolm turned to the final two members of their quartet.

"

What's up," Malcolm said. He slid his hands into the coco colored slacks. Don just nodded a greeting while he hung up his gray hoody.

Jordan pointed his thumb to the ceiling. "Upstairs. Ten minutes."

The third floor of the UrbanKnights' building was one-part storage, one-part conference room. Don called it the 'Bat-attic'. It had a steel security door at the base of the stairwell. Jordan, E-Man Don and Malcolm were the only ones with the access code, and it changed every three months. The windows had been bricked in. An industrial strength air conditioning unit cooled a room housing a high-speed computer rack. Next to it was a series of lockers with legal and barely legal weapons. E-Man commented Jordan was living out his super hero fantasy with the assorted gadgetry. Jordan knew otherwise. If one thing being an DIA operative taught him is there's no such thing as being too prepared. Or too careful. Or too armed.

Jordan and E-Man were at a large oval table with four chairs when Don and Malcolm joined them. Unlike all the other rooms in the building, no music piped in. When Malcolm closed the doors, Groove Theory's "Tell Me" vanished.

"I guess now you gonna tell us what's up?" Malcolm asked, descending into his chair.

Jordan stood. "I guess so." In front of him was the pile from his desk. He reached for the first sheet and began his briefing.

"As you and Don probably guessed, there is more to this case than meets the eye. Yesterday morning, two CIA agents came to the office. The warned me of a convict's escape. This man..."

Jordan tossed a photograph in Malcolm and Don's direction. The two turned it to get a better look at it. The photo showed a man with long dirty blond hair posing for a police lineup.

"His name is Cody Random."

Malcolm shrugged. "So? Who is he to us?"

"To you, nobody," Jordan started, "but four years ago, E-Man and I assisted in arresting him."

"Big deal," Don said.

"Yeah, not getting why this is important," Malcolm said, "except for the part about you 'arresting' people. Weren't you an analyst?"

What Jordan was doing was 'talking around classified'. Highly frowned upon, yet everyone did it. It was more art than science – telling someone about a classified issue by only revealing what they needed to know and not what they wanted to know. To Don and Malcolm, Jordan had been an analyst for the Pentagon and E-Man was a translator. The cover story was they monitored the proliferation of nuclear weapons. It was far more believable Jordan, a former missile launch officer and E-Man who was once an Air Force Combat Controller, were involved in this kind of work instead of being covert operators.

"I got out of the office a lot," Jordan said. He glanced over to E-Man who gestured slightly with his head. Jordan sighed and went on.

"Random's a dangerous character. His story is a long one. His father was a noted surgeon in Maryland. His mother, part of high society. He was born in the lap of luxury. He, therefore generally considers himself to be above most people even though he's a criminal."

Malcolm gestured at Don. "See, powers that be."

"I don't see what that got to do with election rigging," Don said.

"You know," E-Man said behind folded arms, "you might want to listen to this."

Jordan nodded. "Thanks, E. Anyway, shortly after the birth of his brother, Michael, Random's father had an accident – head on collision with a family. The investigation found that the good doctor was quite drunk. Random's father died in the accident and the lawsuit of the victims financially wiped out the surviving family. Random's grandparents disowned the family, so his mother was left to fend for herself.

"I won't bore you with the details but things didn't go well for the Randoms. Cody allegedly murdered his stepfather. All accounts were the guy was a lowlife, still, the man was stabbed fifty-two times in the back with a six-inch butcher knife. It was never proved, but it is likely that Random was the murderer. He often alluded to such an act in future psychological examinations. When Random was about eleven, his mother died – suicide. Cody and his brother were dumped into the system.

"Damn, yo," Malcolm managed from a slack jaw.

"At some point, Random displayed a talent for working with chemicals. So, of course, he blew up everything he could get his hands on. He was bad as hell, but, he was a true genius. A genius when he turned eighteen, the government decided to exploit. The CIA worked its voodoo and recruited him. I couldn't really uncover too much about Random's involvement with the CIA, but he did some work for them in Europe about ten years ago.

"Cody started doing his own thing and began manufacturing narcotics. He ran into some trouble with several European law enforcement agencies. CIA wasn't having any of that so they let him go. Random opened up shop with an Air Force airman on a base in Germany. He ran a distribution center from the dorm. There was a falling out and Random murdered his partner. That's when E and I got involved."

"How again?" Malcolm said.

Jordan and E-Man exchanged looks. Jordan drew in his lips as he prepared to speak again. "Look, Malcolm – you too, Don. This is the part of the story that's classified. As in, black helicopters and shit."

"Just let it go," E-Man said. He punctuated with a wave of his hand.

"Just let it go, he says," Don said. He leaned back in his chair and a smile eased across his face that could have seen back in high school. Jordan blew out a breath too harsh to be a sigh. The fact Don found any of this funny, meant he and probably Malcolm had no idea what danger they were in. All they could see was good ol' Jordan from back in the day. The idealistic dreamer who lived in a black and white world of good and evil. And crazy ol' E-Man who got drunk and chased girls. They couldn't imagine the horrible things they had done.

E-Man came forward on his elbows. "We could tell you..."

"But we have to kill you." Jordan stared at Malcolm and Don until they squirmed uncomfortably.

"OK, OK," Malcolm held out his palms. "So, what happen?"

Jordan said, "We were tasked with bringing Random in. By the time we were assigned the case, Random fled Europe and relocated in Florida. As it turned out, his brother Michael was there. The relationship between the two had always been a close one, so when Random came seeking aid, Michael gladly gave it. The pair teamed up with local drug dealers in Tampa. Random was working on a new type of cocaine. The police nearly caught Random in Tampa, but it wasn't until Miami when E and I caught him."

"So, why you kill his brother?" Malcolm asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

Jordan looked Malcolm in the eye. "I was staring down the barrel of his .357. It was either me or him."

"Oh." Malcolm reared back in his chair, "Then you had no choice."

"Try telling Random that."

The room fell quiet. The hum of the lights overhead became relatively thunderous. Jordan hung his head and leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. The others took turns looking at each other as their leader disengaged.

E-Man took over. "Look, as you can see, this guy is pretty messed up. And he's got, like, a king-sized chip on his shoulder. It ain't nothin' but a thang for him to kill someone."

"That's right," Jordan said, "We can't half-step with this guy. He'll kill anyone to get his way. He killed his partner in Tampa because he disagreed with him. So, he wouldn't think nothing about killing you. Understand?"

Malcolm and Don both nodded.

"Why didn't you just tell us this before?" Don asked in a voice like a whisper.

Jordan's eye brows went up. His mouth struggled for a moment to produce sound. "I didn't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

"Damn, man," Malcolm said, "don't you know we down to the last compound. Ross and I ain't military experts like you and E...whatever you did, but if someone want to kill you, he gotta step over my corpse first."

Jordan glanced over at E-Man.

"Now that sounds familiar," E-Man said. "What about you, Don?"

Don asked, "You researched all this data yourself?"

"Yeah," Jordan said.

"You know that's my thing, right?"

Jordan submitted and helplessly bounced his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of E-Man, trying with little success to hide a smile. "You think you're so damn smart."

"That's because I am so damn smart." E-Man reached and high fived Don.

"OK," Jordan said, "Here's the plan. For right now, our only lead is this Kevin Small guy, so we're gonna go with that. E-Man and I are going over to his place in Huntington Woods. And yes, Don, I looked him up on my own. If it makes you feel any better, see if you can find anything about Small. Nothing I came up with was interesting."

"Amateur," Don said.

Jordan ignored the cut. "Malcolm, we might need some surveillance so get your equipment ready. Legal surveillance." He tightened his eyes at the last part.

Malcolm reared back in his chair. "Why you got to say it like that?"

"Ha!" E-Man laughed a bit too loud.

Their assignments doled out the UrbanKnights moved toward the door.

Jordan said, "Hey, guys..."

The three men stopped and turned back.

"Thanks."

~

"What's this guy do again?" E-Man asked.

The 'Vette rumbled down the rose lined streets of Huntington Woods. It was a twenty-minute trip but they were a world away. The black sports car was quite at home among the Mercedes, Jags, and other high-performance vehicles the locals drove.

"He's some kind of fashion guy," Jordan said, "That's what Don said anyway."

"Fashion? You mean, making clothes and shit?" Is he...?" E-Man made a limp wrist gesture. Jordan laughed at the motion.

"You know for a guy who couldn't wait to leave the service," Jordan said, "you're sure not adapting well to civilian life."

E-Man turned to his window. His breath left him in a huff. Nine times out of ten, he was unflappable. That tenth time, it was drama a plenty. E-Man always treated his military service as the worse mistake he ever made. Jordan, conversely saw it as his best decision and missed it with all his soul. Any mention of the military having any other effect then wrong or just plain evil, always brought out the tenth time in E-Man. Jordan didn't understand why and this very moment wasn't the time to figure it out.

"Don't be like that," Jordan said. He reached over a punched his partner's shoulder. "I'm just saying. It's a brave new world – everything isn't as it seems."

E-Man turned back. "Yeah, whatever." He flashed the weakest of smiles. Jordan tabled the matter. He was wrestling with enough demons without tackling E-Man's.

"Where are we going again?" Jordan said.

E-Man tapped his iPhone's GPS screen. The female that lived in the phone announced the final destination as 1313 Pleasant Avenue.

"Pleasant?" Jordan said, "What kind of name for a street is 'Pleasant'?"

E-Man shook his head, "What did you expect, a name like 'Fenkle' or 'Outer Drive'?"

Jordan shrugged, "I don't know. Anything but 'Pleasant'."

E-Man laughed softly. Jordan considered his earlier dig at E-Man and wondered if he himself had made the transition to civilian life successfully. The last time he was a free man, unhindered by military rules and regulation, he was a college student. He knew full well places like Pleasant Avenue existed. Still, the world had been reduced to facts and figures, cold statistics, usually displayed on computer monitor in some command post squirrelled away in depths of a government building. What was normal to him was no longer what was...normal.

E-Man pointed at a street sign. The name 'Pleasant' was imprinted on it. Jordan turned off the main drag of Van Dyke. He slowed down to read the addresses on the buildings. They were plain, straight forward buildings, gold stucco multiple purpose structures. One was likely to be a factory just as the next could be a storage facility. 1313 appeared on a building. It was identical to its brothers except it had a huge banner displayed across its face. The words UNLIMITEDS – GRAND OPENING.

Jordan parked the car in a lot across the street. The pair exited the car and faced their destination. The building was a hub of activity as people came in and out. Boxes, garment bags and rolling hangers were being carried in by young people with an undeniable sense of urgency. Jordan and E-Man turned to each other.

"These guys are wound up," Jordan said.

"Well, you know," E-Man said, "Grand Opening." The smile was back and for a moment, Jordan worried if E-Man only was happy when he was one upping him. It didn't matter, it was good to have E-Man out of his mood.

"How you want to play this?" E-Man asked. He held out a hand to halt a SUV as they crossed Pleasant.

"We don't have time for bullshit," Jordan said, "We squeeze this guy and see if he sweats."

E-Man nodded as the pair came to the door of Unlimiteds. "Good. I thought you might want to do that, good cop - bad cop thang."

Jordan reached to open the door, "I thought you liked the good cop - bad cop thang?"

"You always get to be the bad cop!"

"That's 'cause I'm good at being bad."

They walked into a madhouse. The first floor was an open area. The floor was a flat cement slab, the walls revealed the support I-beams. Whoever Kevin Small was, he didn't spend anything on non-necessities. Jordan understood. Starting a business wasn't cheap and everyone didn't have millions of dollars obtained from a top-secret mission in Japan.

The floor was filled with people darting around. Most were women. They were jeans and T-shirts with pinned up hair and pencils behind ears. They pointed, shouted and directed where the incoming boxes and rolling hangers had to go. Younger women, teens really, were opening the boxes revealing everything from high-fashion eveningwear to accounting documents.

Scattered about were mannequins, half dressed. Among them, stood men with high voices and little goatee shouting things like 'You're destroying my work! You're destroying my work!' Everyone was in constant movement. In all this chaos, a few more women stood. These were rail thin, cigarettes robotically drawn to colorless lips.

Models. Milan. Paris. Detroit. Didn't matter, they were all the same.

Jordan and E-Man stood entranced. In Jordan's mind, the whole building looked like someone yelled 'fire!' and no one could find the door. He turned to his partner who wore the same puzzled expression.

Jordan decided it was time to get on with the investigation. He reached out and tapped one of the high-voiced goatee men on the shoulder. The man was dressed in all black. He whirled around to see who was tapping him. His face distorted in disgust.

"Yes, yes? And what do you want?" The eyes bulged to the point of threatening to fall out of their skull.

Jordan suppressed a smirk. "I'm looking for Kevin Small."

The man gave Jordan and E-Man the once over. He twisted his lips to E-Man's suit and seemed to bite down a dry heave at Jordan's T-Shirt and A-2 jacket.

"That's not possible," the man said. "Mister Small would never cavort with the likes of you. Why, that jacket almost looks like actual military issue."

"That's because it is."

A gasp of a chilled soul. "And you are...?"

Jordan quickly opened and closed his detective license. "Peter Mack, IRS."

The man visibly turned pale. His mouth dropped open. Now it was E-Man's turn to get in on the act. "You look familiar. Did you file your taxes last year?"

The man screamed like a girl. "He's up there! He's up there!"

"Thank you," Jordan said as he walked in the direction the man pointed. As he got out of earshot, he turned to E-Man. "Everyone's afraid of the IRS."

Jordan and E-Man climbed up a metal staircase to a quarterdeck. From here, they had a commanding view of the chaos below. This level seemed to be an office of sorts with its few desks and other office furniture. Above the floor was another Unlimiteds sign, rather precariously hung. Jordan asked a woman for Kevin Small. She pointed to a man with his back to the detectives. Jordan and E-Man approached the man. As they grew closer, the man turned around. He was a skinny, tall man with light brown skin. He had a thin mustache and short wavy hair. His suit was black and appeared to be made of silk. Jordan initial impression was he looked like a young Babyface on a diet. Small gave the pair a businessman's smile.

"Welcome to Unlimiteds!" Small said. "Excuse the mess. We're getting ready for a big show tomorrow. It's our first, you know?"

"I'm sure that's very nice," E-Man said. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to see the unseen.

Small's eyes opened wide but the smile was still there. "Whoa! Someone's in a bad mood today!"

"Then I guess that makes two of us," Jordan said. He flashed his license again. "Jordan Noble. This is Eric Manning. We're with the UrbanKnights Detective Agency."

Like a switch had been thrown, the smile vanished. "Detectives. Oh, I thought you were...never mind that. What do you want?"

"Not so nice now," E-Man said. "Thought we had some money for you?"

"Look, I'm very busy..." Small moved to walk away.

"This will only take a minute," Jordan said as he grabbed Small's arm. It was a firm but not painful grip. Not yet. Small flashed a look of pure hate at Jordan. Unfazed, Jordan went on.

"We like to ask you a few questions about...Cody Random."

For a moment, Small's face froze into a mask of terror. As if some terrible secret had come to light. Only for a moment. He quickly regained his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go!"

Jordan instead tighten his grip. Now it hurt. He pulled Small closer and stared into his eyes. There was an advantage to living a life of constant danger. It left a mark on a man. It hardens his soul and in the corner of his eyes, it leaves a darkness that will never go away. It was this darkness a man could draw forth a kind of strength. The strength to not only deal with violence...but to do violence. The mark was on E-Man. It was on Jordan. But when Jordan looked into Small's eyes, no mark was found \- no darkness. Despite himself, Jordan smiled. Small trembled slightly. He definitely saw the darkness in Jordan's eyes. It was good to know, in the military or not - overseas or stateside...cowards were cowards. Sure, he had absolutely no right to bust up into a legitimate business and grab its owner like he was five minutes away from beating the fool out of him. Sometimes this 'free society' and 'constitutional rights' business got in the way of a good interrogation.

Had the confrontation continued, Small would have confessed any sin Jordan demanded of him. But a voice broke in.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jordan whirled at the sound of the voice. Before he completed his turn, he knew what he would find. The voice that haunted his sleep and tore his soul to shreds had come to life. Jordan turned and came face to face with the most beautiful woman ever to walk into his life.

"Robin..."

Chapter Seven: Robin

His heart leapt as any man's would at the sight of a beautiful woman. It immediately crashed – dragged down by shock, embarrassment and the dread accompanying the memory this beautiful woman hated him. The anger directed at Small transformed into panic. Jordan's jaw dropped open. His grip on Small unconsciously released. E-Man watched as the transformation came over Jordan.

"I asked you a question," Robin said, "What are you doing here?"

Jordan stared at the woman. She was slim with deep brown skin, dark as a mystery. Her silky hair was drawn back in a simple ponytail. Her full lips flared, no doubt holding back barred teeth. If Superman had Kryptonite, Jordan had Robin Summers. The first woman he ever loved. He couldn't control it. Memories fell into his head like precariously stacked boxes. The campus of Michigan State University came to him. Long walks holding hands. Meaningless arguments followed by tear filled, loving reconciliation. Not quite a puppy love but only a step above. A perfect love. A flawless love. An ended love.

"I'm, er, we're following a lead on a case..." Whatever remained of the capable intelligence operative in him vanished like fog at the dawn. Robin shook her head. She stepped towards Jordan and drew back her hand. In mid-stride, she stopped and threw her hands up.

"Jesus," she said, "Will I ever be done with you!" The hatred in her voice burned worse than any acid.

Small's eyes opened wide as if something just came to him, "You're..." He pointed at Jordan.

Jordan whirled back to Small. As they came face to face again, Small studied Jordan's features. His head bobbed a little and Jordan could practically hear the pieces come together. No doubt Robin had mentioned Jordan to him. Small smiled as he realized he had something on the detective.

"You're Jordan Noble. The jerk."

A change came over Jordan. Back straighten. Eyes focused. Operational. If he could, he would have sent his ears up as a wolf does. Small shrank away from the reborn predator before him. Robin however reversed this.

"Yeah, this is the jerk. The asshole."

As if helpless to the power of her voice, Jordan turned back to Robin. Again, his mouth opened, but no words were produced. The wolf was replaced with a chihuahua.

E-Man groaned audibly and pushed his way between Jordan and Robin. "Yo, Robin! What's up?" He threw open his arms and moved in for an embrace.

Robin turned from Jordan to E-Man. She had her arms crossed and jutted out her lower lip. Her eyes burned with anger. She allowed the embrace – somewhat. She turned sideways and put one arm around E-Man's shoulder.

"Girl, you looking good!" E-Man flirted. "Damn! Ought to be a law!"

Robin tried to stay angry, but few were the women who could withstand a full-frontal flirtation from Eric Manning.

"You so crazy." Robin fought it, but her face twisted into a smile.

As Robin was distracted, Jordan turned his attention to Small. "This isn't over."

"If you only knew," Small said, voice low and menacing as much as his high range could manage. "how much she hates you..."

Emotion got the better of him. Jordan lunged forward.

Constitution be damned...

Before he could reach Small, Robin called out. "Look, Jordan, I think you better leave, before I call the cops." A black phone was in her right hand. Jordan's right brow shot up. He could hardly believe Robin would call the police on him, but he was hardly in a position to test her.

"Let's go, E," Jordan said. "Mr. Small."

"Detective," Small said as the pair headed back for the stairs. Just as Jordan reached the stairs, he looked back. He quickly wished he hadn't. Small draped his arm over Robin's shoulder. Her head dropped down on his chest. He cupped her chin and lighted a small peck on her lips. From Jordan's point of view, Small might have well stuck his tongue down her throat. He shot a look at Jordan.

She's mine now.

Jordan continued down the stairs. A tempest was in his belly. Without bidding, four ways to kill Small came to mind. He filed them under 'Future Options'.

"We're not killing anyone, OK?" E-Man asked as they reached the main floor. Jordan grunted, the best he could do, given the situation, to communicate. Sometimes he thought they could read each other's mind.

They walked through a crowd, oblivious to the drama that just unfolded. Jordan and E-Man passed a pair of workers and overheard their conversation.

"What the hell I am supposed to do with all these invitations!"

"Hey man, I just deliver 'em!"

Jordan caught E-Man by the arm. The argument was between another goatee'd man in all black and someone from a delivery service.

"Look," the deliveryman said, "The order said two thousand units. That's what I deliver." He balanced a huge box with his legs to spare his arms the entire weight.

"Two thousand! Two thousand!" The man in black screamed, "I ordered two hundred!"

The deliveryman shook his head. "That's not my problem."

"Well, I simply refuse to pay for this!"

"Fine!" The deliveryman dropped his package and stormed out. "They don't pay me to put up with your shit! Here's your damn invites. Do whatever you want!" Then he stomped towards the door. The man in black huffed and puffed. Then, flailing his arms, ran off in a different direction. Jordan and E-Man exchanged looks. As one, they approached the abandoned box. In the raging chaos, their efforts went unnoticed. Jordan broke the seal and pulled out some of its contents.

"...A Fashion Gala..." Jordan read, "The Presentation of Michigan's Finest New Designers. 8:00 P.M. at the Cobo Center."

Jordan looked at E-Man and smiled, "Ever been to a 'Fashion Gala'?"

"Why, no I haven't," E-Man said innocently.

"Well, says here, that there's one tomorrow. Wanna go?"

"Why, certainly." E-Man stooped down and plucked another invitation out of the box. "You know, I just couldn't go without the wife," E-Man said. Jordan curled his lip. Never in a million years, would anyone in their circle think E-Man would beat anyone to the alter. Especially Jordan.

"What was I thinking? Think the fellas wanna come?"

E-Man smiled broadly. "Hell, yeah. Let's make it a party!"

Jordan stole more invitations. His eyes lost their mirth and lowered his voice. "This guy's down with Random, E-Man. And I'm going to get him."

E-Man folded his arms. "You wouldn't be saying that 'cause he's got Robin?"

Jordan didn't answer. There were lines that even near-telepathic partners shouldn't cross. Robin – the love of his life, wrapped up in all this? Coincidence? He shook his head at that notion. There's no such thing as a coincidence in this business.

~

"What's wrong with your phone?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Just a little buzz that's all. Bad connection, probably."

Kevin Small made a beeline for his office on the quarterdeck as soon as the detectives left the building. He knew not to call the number unless it was an emergency. Well, this qualified. When someone comes to him asking about a guy no one should know he knows, Small generally calls that an emergency. He did use the office phone. With all the people in the building, hundreds of calls were going in and out. No feasible connection between him and Cody Random.

"Look," Small said, "Some guys were here. Asking about you."

'What did you tell them?" Random asked.

"Nothing."

"Who were they?"

"A couple of detectives. And get this." Small literally panted he was so excited. "One of them was Jordan Noble, Robin's ex! What's up with that!"

Random's voice was unchanged by this news. "Is that right? Well, did he meet the lovely Ms. Summers?"

"Yeah!" Small shouted. "He looked like he saw a ghost!"

"Excellent," Random said. The voice was more akin to the sound of a snake than human.

"Huh?"

"All is well, my friend, there is no need to worry."

Small looked around the office. Through the door's window he could see Robin. She waved to her lover.

"You don't understand." Small's rate of speech was increasing in sync with his nervousness. "He knows you. He could ruin everything. Look, maybe we should move up the exchange to - "

"Yes," Random shouted into the phone and made Small jump. "Tonight at nine. At your other location. Agreed?"

Small pulled the desk phone away from his ear. He stared at it as if it wasn't really a phone. This Cody Random person had been a stickler for details since the start of this deal. For him to agree, no, suggest a change in plan so easily was...odd. But, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Small nodded his head as if Random could see him.

"Agreed?" Random asked again.

"Oh, yes. Uh, sure, sure."

"Good," Random said, "Tonight then. Nine o'clock. Oh, and take care of that buzzing, hmm?"

Small hung up the phone and felt the warmth of pride. He was in control of this deal for the first time. It all happened so quickly. He sank everything he owned or could borrow into this Unlimiteds thing. A chance to go straight. It was unbelievable how fast things went south – delayed products, wrong materials...the checks started to bounce. Things had to change and quickly. An email came from someone who knew about Small's past. Someone who could make it go away. What the hell? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The email put him in touch with Cody Random. Some crazy plot about designer drugs and quick money. All Small heard was 'quick' and 'money'.

He sat beaming when Robin walked in. "Look," she said. Her shoulders slumped. Her tread, unsure. She couldn't even meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about what happen. Jordan can be..." Robin paused and brought her eyes up. Small grinned and was so glad she had no idea what he was thinking.

Robin asked, "Hey, what's with you?"

Small answered by reaching forward and dragging her into his arms. He kissed her roughly – as any man finally in control should. He broke away and watched Robin's brown eyes blink rapidly.

He said, "Oh, nothing. I just feel tonight is going to be a great night."

~

"Where the hell have you been?"

Malcolm and Don crossed the threshold of Jordan's office. His question stopped them both in their tracks. E-Man and Jordan sat on the two leather chairs in the corner. Jordan had a cup of coffee in a mug with the Air Force's logo. He didn't really like coffee, but everyone else drank it, so...

It was late afternoon and the sun had to struggle to get a few rays into the southern windows. Jordan never stated but assumed they would all return to the office from their morning assignments in a reasonably short time.

"See, Don," Malcolm said, "you do something for this man and all he does is bitch."

Jordan knew that was trouble. Malcolm's idea of doing something could mean almost anything. "What are you talking about?"

Malcolm and Don joined Jordan and E-Man at the table.

"Well," Malcolm said, "Let's just say I went above and beyond on the surveillance."

E-Man dropped his coffee mug noisily to the table. Jordan moaned.

"Please, Scooter," Jordan said, "Tell me you didn't." Jordan had stuck Malcolm with the nickname in college, shortly after they met. Malcolm hated it just as long.

"What? I did a wiretap. What's the big deal? And ain't gonna be too many more of them Scooters."

Jordan dropped his head and ran his hand over his face. It wasn't the first time they had this conversation. When he raised his head, he turned to Don.

"What's with you two?" Jordan asked the silent Don.

"What are you asking me for? I ain't done nothing." Don smiled.

"You were with him!" Jordan shouted as he gestured at Malcolm which set his eyes rolling.

"Can't you stay out of trouble just once?" Jordan asked Malcolm.

"Who's in trouble?" Malcolm said. "Besides, the government does it all the time."

Jordan sighed. He leaned forward and spoke in a slow pace and quiet voice as if he were talking to a child. "Malcolm, we ain't the government. How many times I got to tell you. This is illegal."

"Didn't you say this morning that you and E were black James Bonds?"

Jordan worried maybe he was having a stroke and his brain wasn't processing what he heard properly. He realized it was just Malcolm being Malcolm. "No, I said, if you keep asking me about it, I was going to kill you."

E-Man got into the act. He reached into his shoulder holster and placed his Beretta PX4 Storm on the coffee table before his leather chair. Malcolm sank onto the couch. Ignoring the veiled threat, he reached into his hoody's pocket.

"Well," Malcolm said, "I guess you're not interested in hearing this conversation I recorded." Malcolm smile a cat who ate the canary grin.

Jordan frowned. Malcolm was toying with him and he knew it. Jordan shook his head and suppressed a smile. "OK, Malcolm, what you got?"

Malcolm pulled out a micro-recorder and set on the center of the table. Turning it on a voice rang out.

"What's wrong with your phone?"

Jordan and E-Man recognized the smooth mild-manner tone immediately. They spoke in unison. "Cody Random."

Jordan said, "Fellas, this is the voice of the enemy."

"Shhh!" Don hissed as he leaned closer to the recorder. The tape continued and revealed Kevin Small's voice.

"...One of them is Jordan Noble, Robin's ex-flame..."

Jordan's face got tight. The rest of the men turned to their leader. Don whistled softly but Malcolm's response was more audible.

"You saw Robin today? Oh, snap!"

"Shut up, Malcolm." Jordan's voice was low but carried the force of steel.

"...Tonight at nine. At your other location." the tape went on.

E-Man smiled and nodded when he heard that. "Ah, yeah, it's on." He turned to Jordan. "Something going down tonight. You hear that?"

Jordan reached and turned off the recorder as it came to the end of the conversation as it was just producing a buzzing sound. "When did you make this?"

Malcolm screwed his eyes to the ceiling. "Uh, I'd say about a couple of hours ago. I picked up that call from Small's private line at Unlimiteds."

"And what are you using? To do the tap?"

Malcolm shrugged. "It's a commercial brand. Rips data straight off a landline's Octal-Span Digital Card. Why? Q-Branch's got something better?"

Jordan stroked his chin. It was like something subconscious was driving his line of question. He couldn't think what made him wonder about Malcolm's illegal toys - still something made his 'spider-senses' tingle. He waved it off. "Now, all we need is Small's 'other location'. Don?"

Don reached in his pocket. He produced his smartphone and tapped the screen for a few minutes. He cleared his voice when he found what he was searching for. "Kevin Small owns a house in Southfield and two buildings in Huntington Woods. A studio called Unlimiteds and a storage facility."

"Incredible," E-Man said, "How do you find out this stuff?"

Don beamed with pride and shrugged.

"So that leaves his house and the storage facility as the 'other location." E-Man thought out loud.

"Well, it won't be his house," Malcolm said. "He'll probably be with Robin there." An awkward silence passed as Malcolm's comment sank in. Everyone knew the wound of Jordan's breakup with Robin never really healed. They usually didn't talk about it, but Malcolm had a habit of lapsing from social graces.

"Well, despite Malcolm's stupid ass remark," Jordan said, "he's probably right."

"So, it's going down at this storehouse," E-Man said.

"At nine" Jordan rose from his chair. "Clear your evening fellas. Small's got a date with the UrbanKnights tonight."

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "too bad he don't know it."

Chapter Eight: A Hot time in the Suburbs Tonight

The storage facility set around the corner from Unlimiteds. Unlike the row of cookie cutter multipurpose buildings on Pleasant Avenue, this quiet street was home to older structures. The UrbanKnights' destination was an old office building that had been repurposed. It retained its original brick front but a series of roll up garage doors along the side was new.

Jordan parked the white van a half block from the storehouse. The position allowed the team to see if anyone entered or left the building. He was mindful he and three other African American men dressed in black sat on a darken side street of a suburb. Despite what the Constitution said, such was cause enough for the red and blues of a police cruiser to illuminate behind them.

A wry grin cut his face. The Constitution again. Laws, rules. This was going to be a problem. Human Intelligence, HUMIT, only had one rule – don't get caught. Jordan realized the problem was not the existence of rules, his life had been dedicated to protecting high ideas like the Constitution. No, he had to decide he was now living in a world of rules - not outside them. The world didn't have to change – he did.

Jordan was ready to dip into himself and rain punishment and self-incrimination for every sin, imagined and real. Movement from behind him, denied him the opportunity and brought him into the here and now. Malcolm worked his way into the passenger seat.

"What's up?" Malcolm said.

Jordan's eyes scanned the block. "Boy, you better get back there. You know too many brothers is probable cause out here."

Malcolm smiled at Jordan's quip. "Yeah. This will only take a second. How you doing?"

Jordan transfixed a gaze on Malcolm. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out the question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you know... you... Robin... this whole thing." He cleared his throat.

Jordan watched Malcolm blink nervously and his pupils dart around. The sudden appearance of Robin was a crushing blow to his psyche. Chances were OK, but coincidences were a definite no no. The trained operator in him could accept the out of the clear blue, freaking sky, return of Cody Random – he could not and would not accept Robin Summers just magically being involved in this. The variables didn't add up. Did Robin Summers hate him that much? He could see that. But, to link up with an international drug dealer – girlfriend wasn't that crazy.

Whatever his thoughts, he wasn't about to share them with Malcolm. He sighed. "I'm good."

"No, you're not. Man, you were all in with Robin. Weren't y'all gonna get married?"

"How do you know?" Jordan twisted around in his seat to look at Malcolm. "You didn't even know Robin."

"Don told me. He was like, when you were at State, you didn't see Jordan without seeing Robin."

Jordan stared down the street. That's not how he remembered it. Sure, he spent a lot of time with her but...

"You're not helping, Malcolm."

"Sorry, man. I just, you know. Earlier...when I said that thing about...you know, Robin at his house..." Malcolm's voice trailed off. Jordan saw how his partner was struggling and decided to lighten the mood.

"Is this how you apologize?" he said with a slight grin. "Man, you suck at this."

Malcolm laughed his weird little laugh, high pitch and the notes going everywhere. "Screw you, Noble!"

Jordan glanced down at the storehouse again. His smile vanished and a look of determination replaced it. Malcolm cocked his head at the rapid change.

" 'Sup?" Malcolm asked.

"We're on," Jordan said. Beyond the windshield, a dark sedan had stopped in front of the storehouse. Four men got out. Their heads rotated in all directions. They congregated at the building's front door for a moment then went in. Jordan banged on the roof of the van to alert Don and E-Man. The two came up to the front of the vehicle. Jordan didn't have to tell E-Man where to focus – the telepathy kicked in.

"Showtime," E-Man said.

A metallic whoosh sounded as the door of the van opened and the UrbanKnights leapt out. Jordan angled away from the street and headed for the back of the building. A back alley ran parallel to the main street. Malcolm and Don trailed behind at the rear of the pack. They were doing their best, Jordan was sure, but to him, they were only slightly less noisy than a herd of bulls wearing cow bells.

They reached the rear of Unlimiteds. Another pair of those garage doors greeted them. As well as one of the men who entered from the front.

Jordan threw up a hand, stopping the chain behind him. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

The man was wearing a military style field jacket. He wandered around in small aimless circles illuminated by the glow of a full moon. The greenest of rookies could spot him at fifty yards.

Jordan glanced at E-Man, who nodded in return and darted off into the shadows.

"What was that about?" Malcolm asked.

Jordan smiled. "Watch and learn."

For a few seconds, nothing happened. The man continued his small circle. Occasionally, he looked up and down the street. E-Man sprinted up behind the man, struck him at the base of the neck. He stepped back as the man dropped like a stone.

"Damn!" Don shouted. He looked over at Malcolm who shared a puzzled expression. Jordan laughed at his partners' amazement.

"What's so funny?" Malcolm asked.

Jordan headed across the alley. "You two kill me."

"Can I say now y'all was Black James Bond?"

Jordan shrugged. "OK, maybe E-Man. But he was a Combat Controller. That ain't no secret." The often-forgotten special operators of the US Air Force were no less capable than their Army and Navy brethren.

Yeah, but that was a long time ago."

"

Bah. It's like riding a bike."

By the time Jordan and the others reached him, E-Man was bent over the unconscious form of the guard. He searched the man's person and produced a gun. E-Man shook his head and came to his feet. He showed the weapon to Jordan. "Little kids and their guns!"

Jordan cocked his head to one side to examine the massive Smith and Wesson Model 625, chambered for the 45 ACP cartridge. Jordan twisted his mouth. He looked down at the fallen opponent. He was a smooth face blonde. Maybe just twenty.

"This guy's a sucker," Jordan said. "I doubt if he's even a member of Random's gang."

Don stepped up and took a look. "How you figure?"

Jordan said, "Random's a career criminal. He's not going to be bothered with some punk on lookout who has to over compensate with a damn hand cannon. That crap's good for television, but if he fires this thing, they'll hear it in Minot. How's that door coming?"

E-Man was at the door and went to work on its lock. "Just a second," he said between grunts of effort.

Malcolm peered over E-Man's shoulder. "Yo, man, this some of that special operations shit?"

"What?" E-Man was focused on the task at hand.

"That thing you did to the guy," Malcolm gestured to copy the action. "Cracking open locks..."

E-Man glanced at Malcolm, then to Jordan. The ESP went to work. He turned back to the door.

"Yeah, man, sure. Trained you for everything."

Malcolm took an unconscious step back from E-Man as he backed away as he would from a pit bull. Jordan came up behind him and slapped his shoulder. Malcolm tried to jump out of his skin.

"You all right?" Jordan asked.

Malcolm's head went up and down.

"OK, when we get in there, stay behind me and E. This ain't no game. Truth be told, we all breaking and entering. That goes for you, too, Don Ross."

Don gave a thumbs up.

The door made a slight click and E-Man smiled with satisfaction. He turned the knob and opened the portal.

"Wa-La," E-Man whispered, "We're in."

Jordan motioned for E-Man to step back. Beyond the door was inky darkness. Jordan's eyes adjusted and he saw some of the objects in the room began to take form. It was a back room off the main floor of the storehouse. A maze was cut out on the floor by the numerous items scattered about. Everything was covered with sheets. A musty smell of being closed up for a while hung in the air. Another odor, barely detectable, drifted about. A quick look to the right and Jordan discovered the second smell. A roll of cans marked 'kerosene' was lined up against the wall.

"Careful." He pointed. "Flammables." He paused to listen for any activity in the room. Hearing none, he continued, followed by his companions. When Don, the last one in,

A fine coat of dust covered everything in the room. This made sense. Small would want the meeting to take place somewhere people weren't accustomed to seeing him and it looked like no one had been here for a minute. Jordan allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. If all went well, this case would be over before it started. He couldn't wait to rub it in the CIA's face.

At the room's far side was a door. Jordan placed his ear to it, listening for sounds beyond. His hand bolted up to signal a stop. On the other side of the door, he heard the faint sound of voices. They seemed to be far away. Jordan turned the knob, opening the door slightly. He saw nothing through the crack. He ventured into the room. Circular lamps on a bare ceiling lit the space. A floor to ceiling line of crates turned the room into a hall. He reached and pushed the nearest crate. Its give suggested something pliable within – probably clothes. The UrbanKnights crept down the hall. The voices were louder now, like they were just around the last crate. Jordan rounded the crate and came face to face with three men in cowboy dusters from the car. A guy with a scar down the side of his face showed a grin missing a tooth.

"Evening, boys. Name's Slash. Y'all need to work on your phone taps."

Jordan's mind snapped back to Malcolm's earlier efforts.

What's that buzzing?

Too late to worry about that now, he stepped back, pushing Malcolm with him. E-Man moved as well, with Don on his heels. Slash and the two other men swung open their coats and produced a pair of shotguns and an assault rifle. A second later, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. The UrbanKnights put the crate between them and the gunmen. The bullets ripped through the crate and danced around the detectives.

"Damn!" Jordan's legs pumped like pistons, trying to reach the back room. He put his shoulder to the tower of crates. They came over like dominoes. Yelps of pain rose as the boxes crashed to the floor.

They had gained a second or two. He got to the back room, a step or two behind the others. He whirled out of the doorway as the gunfire renewed. E-Man exchanged shots with his Px4 Storm. After the fourth shot, Don reached out and shut the door. The room went black. Almost instantly, the gunfire stopped. It was eerily still after the burst of bullets. Four sets of lungs gulped in air.

"Why they stop?" Don asked.

Jordan hissed through his teeth to silence him. More seconds passed. Jordan moved towards the door. Gun in hand, he slowly turned the knob and ...nothing. Jordan turned harder and shook the door violently.

"Locked."

"But, why?" E-Man asked.

Before another moment could pass, a new smell eased its way into the room from under the door. Something worked its way through the air, stinging Jordan's eye.

Ah, shit.

"Smell that - Smoke!" Don said.

"Smoke?" Malcolm's voice was plagued with confusion. It dawned on him. "Oh shit! They're burning the building down!"

Jordan pointed at their entry point. "Try the other door!"

E-Man was already there. With a turn of the knob, the door swung open. Just as quickly, it closed. Several quick sharp snaps struck the door in the rhythm of gunfire.

"Dammit!" E-Man shouted.

"We cannot stay here," Jordan said, "Fire...kerosene...bad combination."

The smoke grew heavier, covering the room with hazy grayness. The temperature crept up. All the men coughed.

"We've got to do something!" Malcolm shouted. "What are we going to do?"

"Calm down, dammit!" Jordan said. "Think, man! Think!" The first icy touch of doubt reached his heart. It was his fault Malcolm and Don were in this mess. They weren't operators. Of course, they'd panic.

"The roof," E-Man said. The voice of his long-time partner in the world of violence snapped Jordan to the present. He looked upward at E-Man's suggestion, but one glance told him the roof was too high for them to reach. Jordan could almost feel the despair fall on his team.

"Look around!" he said. "There's got to be something to get us outta here!"

They split up, exploring every corner of the smoke-filled room. The glow from behind the door didn't offer much light, but it did reinforce how desperate the situation was. Sheets draped over items were cast off with reckless abandon. A quartet of coughs rose as they searched. Computers...office furniture...lawn equipment. Nothing remotely useful. Don removed the cover from the largest item in the room.

"Will this help?" he asked.

Jordan rushed to Don's side. He smiled at his partner's find.

"Yes, Don," he said, "I do indeed think this will help."

~

The item Don found, a seated forklift, smashed through the rear door. Jordan felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he bolted out of the storehouse a few feet behind the forklift. It barreled down on the gunmen. They scattered just as it smashed into a parked car. Ticking from some liquid dripping onto a hot surface preceded the two vehicles bursting into a huge fireball. The alley went orange for a second. Nearby car alarms sounded. Dogs barked. The explosion only further confused the criminals. They turned to and fro trying in vain to make sense of their current situation.

A sole gunman gathered his wits enough to turn his weapon on the detectives. Jordan aimed but it wasn't true – tears still altered his vision. E-Man got off a shot - his years as a sharpshooter guided his aim and he hit the gunman. The impact of the bullet forced the man to drop his weapon. The guy with the scar screamed something and his men broke around the building to the front. They even gathered up the punk E-Man knocked out. A series of door slams and the car sped away. Jordan turned to his friends. They choked and gasped for air. No time for rest, the police were no doubt on their way.

"Let's bounce." The voice was a whisper.

The van rumbled to life and eased away from the street just as the wail of sirens began to pierce the air. Jordan guided the vehicle around a corner, stopped in a restaurant's parking lot and turned off the lights. A trio of squad cars zoomed by. Jordan waited until the police were well away before he slowly, casually drove off. A moment later, another cruiser zipped by. When it continued, the UrbanKnights collectively released a sigh of relief.

"Oh, man," Malcolm said, "I can't believe that worked."

Jordan silently agreed. When Don uncovered the forklift, the plan formed in Jordan's mind was a product of blind desperation more than strategy. E-Man employed another skill from his time as a Combat Controller, hot-wired the vehicle and sent it flying. It was a mad gambit. But it worked.

"Yup," Don said, "Now? That's someone's ass."

The men all laughed. The quip wasn't so funny, but breathing in the sweet nectar of life after near death, somehow made everything humorous.

"That's Kevin Small's ass," Jordan said. "We're going to be on that boy like white on rice."

"Ugly on ape," Don said.

"Gravy on grits," E-Man said.

"Nikes on Mike," Malcolm said.

Jordan rolled his eyes. The nectar of life was impacting his crew a little too much. "Whatever. Malcolm, I want cameras up that bastard's ass. If he picks his nose, I wanna know."

Malcolm said, "Probably would have worded it differently but I feel you. What about illegal proceeding and all that?"

Jordan gripped the steering wheel. His focused gaze zeroing in on some distant point ahead of him. "Somebody just tried to burn up me and my boys. Screw the rules."

"And this Random guy?" Don asked.

"He'll pop up," Jordan said, "Meanwhile, we'll work this angle. E-Man? Don't you have something for our comrades?"

"Why, yes I do." E-Man reached inside his jacket pocket as Don and Malcolm exchanged puzzled looks. "Here you go, fellas." He handed Don and Malcolm tickets to the Fashion show he picked up earlier.

"Oh, goody," Malcolm said as he read the ticket. "How bourgeois. I guess we gonna dress up?"

Don shouted, "Hey! They gonna have horse-e- oeuvre! All-right!"

The van hit the Chrysler Freeway and headed back to Detroit.

Chapter Nine: Getting Ready

Cody Random sat perfectly still. On the floor. In the dark, concentrating on his breathing. Typically, he didn't long suffer fools. Today, he would have to deal with two of them. Behind him, the door squeaked open, sending a thin sliver of light into the room. Slash entered and closed the door, plunging the bedroom back into darkness. Random stood to confront his lieutenant. He was shirtless, bare chested in the heat of the un-air-conditioned structure. It was going to be a hot one in Motown as even at 9:00 a.m., the mercury was reaching for eighty.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" he asked.

Slash's hands came up. "Now, don't be like that, boss."

Random wandered over to what, in a long gone better day, was a three-drawer dresser. He took a white towel off the top and dapped away sweat on his neck. "How should I be?"

Slash mumbled out a series of sounds. He gathered his thoughts and spoke, carefully as to not enrage his boss. "It just kinda happened. I was setting up the trap and, well, Karl started the fire."

Random had discovered during his time in prison, the benefits of meditation. Negative emotions and energy trapped in his body was just as bad as poison. So, he valued controlled breathing and relaxation techniques because he had a lot of negative emotions and energy. The cause of which was people dumber than him. Which, to his mind, was everyone.

"Karl started the fire," Random said. "It's not so much that he brought this undue attention to us, we have more than enough insulation – it's the fact that I made it perfectly clear, no one was to kill Jordan Noble but me!" His voice rose as he reached his sentence's end. The trap at Kevin Small's storage facility was to harass Jordan. A trespassing charge or the like. Not an attempt on his life.

Slash stepped forward, a finger in the air. "In my defense, I told you not to bring in Karl – you know arsonists."

Whatever maximum allowance for containing negativity Random had was exceeded. Veins seemed to appear around his azure eyes. Teeth bared and were on edge. Slash drew back, deferring personal injury. Just as quickly as it came, the anger vanished. Maybe the meditation was working. Random ran a hand through his wild blond locks.

"Yes," he said, "you did warn me. In the future, I will give more weight to your input in the selection of crew from the criminal population."

Slash's face twisted as if receiving a word of praise from a cold and distant parent. "Well, thank you. That's all I ask."

Random nodded. He was sure sarcasm was a foreign concept to Slash. "Now, then. Discipline in the ranks had gone unheeded. Punishment must be meted out."

Slash smiled and his words slipped out. "I figured you say that. I got Karl outside. Figured you wanna do it."

Random put his hand on Slash's shoulder. He shook his head. "No, Slash. This is your arena. You have to take the good with the bad..."

Slash frowned. "Aw, c'mon. I kinda like the guy. You know, for an arsonist."

Random turned away and strolled to the window with the blinds drawn tight. "Now, now. If you want to be the voice of authority on our staffing, you must take responsibility for their actions."

Slash scoffed. "Fine. Karl. Karl! Get your ass in here!" The door opened again with the same slice of light and return to darkness when it shut. Karl wore a duster matching Slash's with a weasel's face sporting a patchy beard. He flashed a look at Slash, then went to Random to plead his case.

"Mr. Random, hear me out now." He sounded like he had rocks in his mouth. "I really got a good -"

The rest of his explanation went unheard. Slash stepped next to Karl and drew a Glock 17. He put the gun to Karl's temple and pulled the trigger. The expected explosion was followed by the wall to Karl's left literally painted with the contents of his skull. The corpse dropped like a stone.

"Happy?" Slash's anger was tempered with the regret of losing his comrade. A pair of men burst into the room, weapons drawn. Random held up a hand and the two warily slid out.

"You have done well," Random said. "Leadership is not always an agreeable course." He sighed and drew out a cellphone from the white linen pants he wore. "As now, I have to endure a less than desirable task."

Slash made like a dog – turning his head to one side. Random caught only a glimpse of this, his vision focused on dialing.

"I'm going to have to keep our Mr. Small engaged. I'm sure he's very upset after your performance from last night."

~

"Your men missed Noble last night!"

Kevin Small stood in his office at Unlimiteds. The memory of the late-night phone call from the Fire Department fanned the flames of his anger. The staff was abuzz with rumors and gossip. Not what he needed a day before the big show. Now, with all the last-minute preparation, he had Cody Random on his cellphone.

"Calm down," Random said. His words were slow and even. No highs or lows of emotions. "Everything is under control."

"Under control! You burned down my Goddamn building!"

"That was an unfortunate incident, for which I deeply and humbly apologize."

"Jesus, Random." Small leapt from his seat. He went over to the window in his door. Robin was across the quarterdeck making last minute preparations for tonight's function. Her fingers danced a wave.

"You didn't say anything about blowing up my building. This is getting expensive. The cops..."

"Are of no importance. My friend, in three days, you are going to be extremely wealthy. And then you can go and take that Nubian jewel of yours to some tropical island and copulate until she passes out."

Small smiled as a mental picture formed. He wandered in the empty space between his desk and the door, the fantasy growing in detail.

"For now, you must entrust this matter to me," Random said.

"But..."

"No buts!" Random's voice was sterner. "I will handle Noble. Now, I will transfer the sample to you tonight."

"Tonight?" Small peeked out the window. Robin headed for the office. "Are you crazy? There will be hundreds of people there!"

"All the better. We will blend in. Your precious hundreds will not even be aware a deal that will change controlled substances forever has taken place."

Small started to object but held it back. This was not the same Random from last night. He was direct – unmoving. Last night he was completely open to suggestion...of course, the suggestion got his building burnt up.

A few seconds passed before Small spoke again. "OK, but how will I know you?" Pain and embarrassment entered his heart. He was so ready to follow the orders of a man he had never seen before.

"Oh, you'll know me," Random said, "By the way, will your lovely lady friend be accompanying you?"

As if on cue, Robin entered. Small stared at her in panic but it faded. She couldn't possibly know to whom he was talking. He forced a smile.

"Yes, why?" Small said. Robin walked pass him. Before he could wonder what she was doing when he felt her soft lips at the base of his neck.

"I, oh, so want to meet her," Random said.

Her lips were just at the middle of his neck. "I-I don't think that is such a good idea."

"I've got a good idea," She pulled her mouth from his flesh just as her hands found his belt buckle.

"Perhaps you're right." Random said, "Ah well, we can't have everything we want. Tonight then."

"Yes, thank you. Good bye." Small hung up. He turned to face Robin. Before he could get a word out, she planted a deep, probing kiss on his lips. Her hands were between them, massaging his enlarged member.

"We've never done it in here, have we?" Harsh breaths contorted her words.

Small's eyebrows shot up. He had rarely seen Robin like this. Especially in a public place. "Robin!" He was too excited to say anything else.

She laughed and released his manhood. "I just wanted to make up for last night. Sorry I couldn't come over."

Small smiled a broad grin. He drew her close again. "You can make it up to me tonight. We'll have lots to celebrate."

She pulled back from him, looking him over. Her face turned serious with a tight mouth and drawn brows. "Kevin. It's going to be OK. We, both of us, have put everything into this." She hugged his neck. "This is our night. We've earned it."

"I completely agree, babe. I just have a feeling something exciting is going to happen tonight." Small grinned wickedly and helped himself to another kiss.

~

Malcolm rapped on the doorframe to Jordan's office. "Got six all-weather cameras around Small's house."

Jordan grunted without looking up. "So, will he find these as easily as he found your trace?"

Malcolm held up his hands. "Look, man. That trace was state of the art. Bouncing off satellites and everything. There's no way he should have picked it up."

Jordan leaned back in his desk chair. "State of the art? Satellites?"

Malcolm sucked in a sharp breath. "Man, I don't know. Nearly state of the art. Been using that rig for a minute. So, you know...progress and whatnot. Anyway, Small left for work at about 7:30 am. He seems agitated about something." Malcolm smirked. "He left alone."

Jordan merely nodded. His eyes seemed to look through his friend.

"OK, well, I gotta get ready for the thing tonight," Malcolm said after more than a few awkward seconds rolled by.

Jordan heard him but most of his attention was focused on the pages of information on Cody Random he had shared with his partners. He stared at the same spot long after Malcolm had vacated it.

What was he up to...what was his next move? And how did he discover Malcolm's track? Jordan worked with electronic surveillance back in the day – strictly as a user. He knew it well enough to recognize it. But Random? Where'd he get the wherewithal to detect, and know buzzing meant a tapped line...this wasn't Random's thing.

He snapped out of his stupor and blew a sigh. He reared back in his chair and at the doorway saw E-Man leaning in its frame.

"How long have you been standing there?" Jordan asked.

"Long enough," E-Man said. He sat in his usual chair. He threw a newspaper turned to a particularly interesting article onto the desk.

"How sad. Someone burned down an empty warehouse. Who would do such a thing?"

"Life in the big city." E-Man smiled. "Sent you an email."

Jordan brought it up on his desktop. "What's this?"

"A little something on our friend, Kevin Small. Courtesy of Don Ross."

"All right, let's see what we got. Born in New York...high school...blah, blah, blah..."Jordan skimmed through the file, "Where's the good stuff?"

"Keep going," E-Man said, his finger twirling in the air. Jordan continued reading. A thin smile worked its way across his face. "Says he got in some trouble for possession when he was sixteen. Really pissed his dad off."

E-Man leaned forward. "Yeah, Daddy's still ticked. Seems that old Kev wanted to go to fashion school and his old man wouldn't pick up the tab."

"Fashion shows...in New York." Jordan read some more, then lifted his head. "Intense competitive environment."

"Built in customer base for drugs. Late nights. All that partying. It ain't all America's Top Model."

Jordan arched a brow. "And you know this how...?"

E-Man smiled broad, rocked back in his chair and put his hand behind his head. "Dated a model or two."

"Of course, you did. In any case, this goes in line with the possession and associating with Random."

"Plus," E-Man pointed to direct Jordan back to the email. "there some stuff in there about being a mule for very bad people. He wasn't big time enough to make it in New York, so he cut out a niche here."

"Why did he stay with fashion?" Jordan wondered out loud.

"A front, maybe," E-Man said, "that's legit, by the way. With a past like that, you'd think Robin would see through him."

"She's a sucker for hopeless men," Jordan said. He rose from his chair. "Thinks she can save them."

"Well, that explains you," E-Man said.

"You got it bass ackwards...as usual."

E-Man shielded himself with raised hands, fending off the rapier rejoinder. Jordan went to his private bathroom. He came out with a black garment bag. He unzipped it and revealed a tuxedo within. "Well, what do you think?"

E-Man's face twisted like rotten eggs were in the bag. "It's...you."

"Don't say it's..."

"Conservative."

"Dammit, E!"

E-Man laughed. He walked over to Jordan. He ran the sleeve of the jacket between his fingers, nodding as if approving.

"It's...presentable. But...now just listen. Don't get all defensive. We not military now. We can be more...expressive. I mean, it is a fashion show, damn. If I had half the money you did -"

"You had your chance."

E-Man's brows came together. "We're talking about this..." he lifted the sleeve. "thing. Not Japan. I got your back, but I don't need the Yakuza to be looking for me."

"He wasn't Yakuza – he was -"

"Whatever," E-Man said. He took the sleeve of the tux and brought it close to his face. "This? This right here? This is something straight outta Senator McCain's closet. I'm talking fashion tips from the Republican Party."

Jordan pulled the coat from E-Man's grasp. "How many times I got to tell you, everything you wear ain't got to light up the room." The scowl on his face produced a smile on E-Man's.

"Uh huh." E-Man took a step back and looked up and down at Jordan. "Bruh, you got a kagillion dollars and you rocking kakis and a black T. I'm sure it's silk or genuine Mongolian monkey fur or something, but...."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What!"

E-Man held up his hands defensively, "Hey man you're cool. But you know you could break down and buy a, what's that brand... Canali! Something with some patterns or windowpanes or something. Sporting that big ass Tag watch, I thought you had some style."

"Tag Heuer," Jordan said and flexed his wrist as if any chance existed for missing the massive steel chronograph. "And I got a Canali," Jordan said.

"Wear it, fool. Damn, I swear, Jordan you dress like you ain't got it like that."

Jordan returned his tuxedo to its bag. The fact E-Man wasn't wrong was the problem. Despite his lack of tact breed from having too much knowledge of Jordan's life, E-Man was as usual, spot on.

"I am presenting a professional image. That's not white. That's not black. It's professional. So, what you gonna wear - Not that straight outta a mumble rapper YouTube video get-up you always wearing?"

E-Man had on a purple shirt with gray pants with a bit of extra space in the crotch. He bounced out of his chair and headed for the door. "Sounds like someone is sipping on the hater-aide to me. Hey, I'm going to clean up. Man, you know how Akio loves to see me dressed up. Oh, yes, I am definitely getting laid tonight!"

"Thank you for sharing that," Jordan said. "Just be ready on time."

"Seven o'clock, right?"

"Right, I'll have the limo pick you two up at your place and then get the fellas."

"Oooo, a limo! Party over here!" E-Man said as he danced out of the office.

Jordan collapsed into his chair. E-Man in all his jest, had hit closer to home than he expected. Jordan was rich. Oprah rich. Yet somehow spending the money...on looking the part...he just couldn't. It was more than that. His soul was weighed down. He had invested so much of his life into the service. Into the mission and all the secrets they entailed. Now, without the mission, he just didn't know who he was. It was a sickening disappointing thought. Worse of all, a not so small part of him was glad Cody Random was back. A throwback to the old days. Something to do... meaning... purpose. Not this playing at detective.

A glance at the Tag Heuer. He probably should be getting ready as well.
Chapter Ten: A Night of Fashion

Cody Random pushed open a door facing the Detroit River and entered the Cobo Center through the lower level. It was deserted except for an occasional maintenance worker. Here were the inner workings of a major convention center – a framework of bare walls and exposed fluorescent lights. He walked with broad confident steps. His eyes challenged anyone who looked in his direction. He made it seem like he owned the place. He boarded an escalator and traveled to the convention floor. Earlier, Random came to the Center to map out his course. He wanted to have a way to enter the building, find Kevin Small at his ridiculous 'Fashion Gala', make his delivery and leave again, all relatively unnoticed. No small task. The Cobo Center was one of the largest exposition centers in the world. Due to its renovation, it had become a giant maze. Particularly for someone working his way through the back halls and other roads less traveled. But Random was determined. After a few hours wandering the building, Random had a perfect route to suit his purpose for his return later in the evening. Now, he repeated the route, moving the building like a shadow, unseen and unheard.

As he drew closer to the Fashion Gala, Random's mind flashed back to how all this began. Back to his stay at Florida's prison. Back to a phone from his mysterious employer. No. Not employer...benefactor. Yes, this word was more to his liking. How Random's benefactor made him an offer he could not refuse. An offer of revenge and wealth - the two things for which Random was now living. The chance to continue work interrupted in Miami years before. To finish the job on 'crush'. It would slide into the America, and ultimately the world as the drug of choice. He would see it happen, he had no doubt.

Random smiled as he thought back to the days when he began formulating crush. While he was still working for the CIA. While the government tapped his genius to create deadly explosive compounds for its dirty little wars, Random had his eye on the future. Producing explosives was interesting, even fun, but it was far from rewarding. With his intellect, he could easily move into a more...profitable arena. He had complete access to the CIA's store of drugs, legal and illegal. Random envisioned a stronger, more addictive cocaine, created by him. Crush. He began his work in secret. However, he was discovered and expelled from the CIA. Before the agency could enact vengeance, Random escaped to Germany. There, he continued his dream, this time with an American airman as his partner. But, as the dream came close to fruition, the fool American developed a conscience and reported him to his superiors. Random escaped again (of course!), this time to the United States - Florida.

Random's eyes narrowed as he recalled the results of the adventure. The showdown in Miami. His capture. And of course, his brother's murderer, Jordan Noble.

Prison was not the end, but a new beginning. Random's benefactor gave him the chance he had waited four years, but would have waited four hundred years, for. He put Random in contact with a small time dealer in Detroit, this Kevin Small character. Big enough to have access to production facilities – small enough as to not attract undue attention. He remembered his first phone call to Small.

"Kevin Small?"

"Yes," Small answered. His voice trembled. The benefactor told him Kevin was expecting his call. Even still, he sounded like a coward. Random hated him already. Nevertheless, the details of the deal were worked out. When Random would arrive in Detroit. How to contact him. It was going well, until Noble and his UrbanKnights untimely involvement. No matter. Random had plans for them anyway.

He snorted a low laugh as he recalled Worrington's pitiful offer to join his organization. What could Worrington offer him? Nothing, but a convenient blind for the police to waste time investigating as the benefactor provided him with a means of escape. For Random, killing was an occupational hazard, but he did enjoy terminating Worrington and his spineless toady, Moore. Soon, he would have what he always wanted, money and Noble's head on a platter.

~

Malcolm and Don opted out of traditional black tuxedos. Don's was in gray while Malcolm sported a cream number. They raided the hors d'oeuvre table like they hadn't eaten in weeks. Other attendees arched an eyebrow or sniffed at the air as they passed. The two seem ignorant. Jordan found them and took them both by the arms.

"You know," he whispered, "These are for everyone."

"My mo," Malcolm said with a mouth full of shrimp.

"Want some?" Don offered a finger sandwich.

Jordan sighed. "Why don't you two look around."

"For what?" Malcolm said. He extended his neck and swallowed hard like something from a cartoon.

"Gee, I don't know. Starts with a 'c', ends with a 'lues'. Clues, dummy!"

"OK, OK," Malcolm said, "Damn, don't bite my head off."

Malcolm and Don slumped off. Jordan blew hard and shook out the social faux pau of his friends. Cobo Center Grand Riverview Ballroom had been transformed into the house of fashion. The room's southernmost wall was entirely glass providing a view of the Detroit River and the Canadian Province of Ontario. The sun was almost done for the day and the river was nearly black. The Ambassador Bridge with its travelers streaming between the two nations, made the view postcard ready. Lights representing every color in the rainbow rained down from the room's forty-foot ceiling.

At least two hundred people, Southeastern Michigan elite mingled with designers - another fifty or so. The first group was old and moneyed – the second young and hungry. The air was filled with chatter and some pianist's butchering of 'Breezin''.

Jordan wandered away from the hore d'oeuvre table. He recognized the 'elite' from other affairs like the mayor's gatherings. He had plugged himself into the scene with the movers and shakers since he left the service. Some he met through his connection to his veteran police executive father. The others in the crowd must have been members of the fashion community. Their mode of dress confirmed this. Jordan began to feel out of place. No color nor fabric was not present. Jordan was under the impression this was a black tie only affair. He was wrong.

He gritted his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, E-Man was right about the tux.

A fattish man in a green suit, so far removed from formal wear it didn't seem right to call it a tuxedo, approached Jordan.

"Your tuxedo," the round man said, "it is a classic." He drew in a long deep breath and closed his eyes. He released it and opened his eyes to its widest. "It is making a statement in its simplicity." He touched Jordan's right breast with the tips of his fingers then disappeared into the crowd.

"What the fuck, over?" Jordan continued on his way, eyes darted and scanned each face near and far. He searched for Small, instead he found E-Man and Akio. The pair fit in the crowd well. E-Man's tux was outlandish but not as much as he feared. A few more buttons than expected. Blue – to each his own. Akio had on a red dress with a split that showed more than enough of her shapely leg.

Jordan extended his hands to take Akio's. Her slender fingers encircled his.

"Have I told you that you look spectacular tonight?" Jordan asked.

"Only three or four times tonight, but don't let that stop you." She was a stunning product of an African-American serviceman and the Japanese native he met while stationed in the Land of the Rising Sun.

"Surely a creature of your beauty cannot be alone?"

"Alas," Akio said with a hand to the forehead, "I am married."

"Oh well."

"OK, OK, that's enough of that." E-Man stepped between them which drew laughter. Jordan made a gesture to E-Man so slight that Akio didn't even notice.

"Gotta go, baby," E-Man told his spouse.

Akio fumed then looked at Jordan. "Stealing my man again, huh?"

"I always bring him back before his curfew," Jordan said.

Akio shook her head. "OK, go on, Eric."

Jordan smiled as he and his partner merged into the crowd away from Akio. She was the only person who called E-Man by his real name. She could have called him Bullethead and he wouldn't mind. Sometimes he wondered who got rich on their final mission in Japan.

"You see him?" Jordan asked.

E-Man scanned the room. His eyes didn't alight on any one point or person for more than a heartbeat. "Nothing. Still, there's gotta be, what? Two hundred people in here?"

"Closer to three, I reckon." Jordan shook his head. Between the thick wave of people crashing about and the horrible pianist, it was impossible to concentrate and do a proper search. A waiter passed and E-Man stole a glass of champagne off his tray. The waiter huffed and glared but E-Man ignored it.

"What are you expecting?" E-Man asked after a sip.

Jordan continued surveying the room. He narrowed his eyes occasionally as he focused on a far face. "I'm not sure. Small won't do anything with all these people about. Maybe I just want to rattle him."

"Hmph."

Jordan snapped his head at E-Man. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," E-Man said. He took a long drag from the glass. He pulled it away, his lips pursed tightly and his eyes reduced to lines in his face. Jordan took a step so that he was inches from E-Man's nose.

E-Man rolled his eyes and sighed. "You want to rattle him, like he rattled you."

"Robin?"

E-Man nodded. "It's really screwing with you that she's wrapped up in this." He ventured one more sip and he coughed and gagged for his trouble.

"You're right," Jordan said though his voice was beaten down by the noise of the crowd and an unholy rendering of "Straighten Up and Fly Right."

Jordan said, "But does it strike you as strange... Random ...Robin. It's like all my past debts are returning to haunt me."

E-Man burst out a short laugh. "You so dramatic! You should write this stuff down!"

Jordan frowned. "I'm serious. I don't believe in coincidence."

E-Man's smile vanished. Another waiter passed and he dumped his glass on the tray. "Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing, truth to tell."

Jordan arched an eyebrow. "Why you giving me a hard time, then?"

"Gotta keep you in line somehow. You my boy, but damn, 'Robin this' and 'Robin that' gets old."

"Crystal."

E-Man's face drew together like a magnet was at its center. His nostrils actually flared for a moment. Just as quickly, mirth returned to his eyes and his lips curved up.

"That was a long time ago. We said we never speak of that."

"Just the same, for a while there, her name was in your mouth every – hang on a second." Jordan turned to the approaching Don.

"What's up?" Jordan asked.

Don said nothing but instead jerked his head to the right. Jordan and E-Man turned in the direction indicated. About thirty feet away, in the midst of the crowd, stood Kevin Small. He smiled and shook people's hands. The presence of diamond bracelets, fur shawls and expensive chronographs led Jordan to believe the crowd was sponsors and would-be sponsors of Unlimiteds.

Jordan shot daggers with his eyes. There's that punk-ass, pencil mustached, baby face looking mother...

"Thanks, Don," E-Man said. The message delivered, Don silently disappeared into the crowd.

"I wish he didn't talk so much." E-Man smiled.

Jordan grunted a response and motioned E-Man to follow him. He cut through the masses with E-Man in his wake. The crowd reacted with harsh looks as he pushed people aside to reach their mark. Jordan envisioned using the various methods taught to him by a Marine sergeant years ago of quickly and silently killing a man. It was all pressure points and internal bleeding. He tapped down his emotion, going to his place of operational readiness, when a form stepped into view stopping Jordan in his tracks.

"Shit." Jordan whirled around and forced E-Man to stop short.

"What?"

"Look." The word hissed out through clenched teeth.

E-Man peered around Jordan to see, standing next to Small, Robin Summers. "Shit."

Her hair was up and revealed a slender neck. The low v in the rear of the midnight colored dress showed the deep bronzed skin – flawless.

"Don't mind saying," E-Man said, "shorty looking good!"

"Yes." Jordan risked a glance over his shoulder to confirm.

"Damn, she is wearing that dress..."

"Yeah."

"I mean, I thought she was, you know, all right in college. She did dress kinda homely. But now, I'm just waiting for her to drop something so she can bend over and -"

"You're not helping, E."

"Huh?" E-Man snapped out of his ogling. "My bad. So, now what?"

Jordan bit his lip as he thought. Repeating his previous encounter with Robin was a non-starter. Just the same, he did not want this opportunity to 'rattle' Small to slip by. As if the patron saint of private detectives was watching over him, an avenue of entry presented itself. A man, who looked old enough to remember slavery, came up to Robin. He hugged the woman with a passion unexpected from one of his age. He gestured wildly and seemed intent on leading her off somewhere. She smiled at the old man and tapped Small's shoulder. They exchanged some words and the fossil spirited her away. Jordan had his own smile. So did E-Man.

"Keep an eye on Robin," Jordan said, "Let me know if she comes back."

Kevin Small's head rocked back and out came some of the fakest laughter Jordan ever heard. If the fashion industry was like any other, money alone would not make you a success. It would fall on the old networking game. Not what you know, but who. So, Small laughed at the dumb jokes, shook hands with everyone like he was dying to meet him. For a moment of time, almost unmeasurably short, Jordan felt guilt at his plan. He struck Small with the heel of his left hand, squarely in the back with enough force to knock him forward. Small teetered on his heels for a moment before he turned around.

"Why, I'm terribly sorry. I-" He froze mid-apology. "You!" His eyes expanded.

Jordan wore a cock-eyed grin as he watched Small stumbled for words. "Small, old boy. You do pop up in the damnedest places. Was that your building that burned down last night? My God, that was simply awful! Who would do such a beastly thing?"

"How-how did you get in here?"

"Wasn't it you who sent me the invitation?" Jordan frowned and tucked in his lower lip. He spun on his heels looking at all of people surrounding Small. He got to an overweight woman with blue-gray hair and a dark dress. A plate of shrimps and meatball covered in something orange balanced on her portly digits.

"Are you eating that?" Jordan asked as he plucked up a hor d'oeuvre.

The people Small had been sucking up to grunted and sucked air sharply through clenched teeth as they turned on their heels.

"All your friends left," Jordan said. The only thing missing from his face was a single tear sliding down.

"God dammit!" Small shouted. A few heads turned in his direction and he lowered his voice. "You messing with my livelihood, Noble! It's one thing to come to my place of business with wild accusations, but quite another -"

"Fuck you." The transformation was instant. Jordan's eyes bore into Small's – his jaw went slack and his hands actually flew up into a defensive posture.

"Why don't you tell me about your deal with Cody Random," Jordan said with a smile. He realized he was in control of this situation. Small's fear almost had a smell to it – sweat with a touch of his warm breath.

"Look, I don't know any Cody Random," Small said after a huge gulp of air. Jordan arched his right brow. It was almost impressive how this little man was actually trying to fight back. It would have been more so if the drops of sweat weren't rolling down his cheek. Jordan drew closer to Small. The crowd vanished into a shapeless, soundless blur he was only slightly aware of. Their eyes locked. Small turned away only to look back at Jordan as to not appear to be too weak.

"You don't know Random like I do," Jordan whispered. "He'll kill you without a second thought. He's done it before, he'll do it again."

"I don't -"

Jordan held up his hand to stop Small. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, sooner or later, it's gonna come down to me and Random, if you're in the crossfire..."

Jordan stopped. E-Man broke into his perception with quick hand signals. Danger Close. Jordan looked to his left. Robin came through the crowd to return to Small's side. His face lost intensity as eyes widen and jaw dropped.

"Ah," Small said. Jordan cursed himself for letting his focus slip from the enemy. Robin stopped to talk to someone. Jordan had an exit but Small intervened.

"So," Small's voice was a hiss escaping out of his teeth. "Robin has told me a lot about your relationship with her. Yeah, how you two were going to get married. How she wanted to wait and you two never...you know. How...Noble of you."

Jordan scowled but Small would not be denied.

"She didn't wait, by the way." Small smiled. "Yes, she's quite a passionate woman. With quite an...appetite. I mean, once you get her hot, I mean, really hot, man, there's nothing she won't do. She makes this sound that's like, uh, let's see...you know the one. Oh, I guess you don't."

Small laughed a little. It was his moment and Jordan had given it to him. He glanced and Robin was hugging someone and smiling wide.

Five, maybe six seconds away. He stabbed his thumb into Small's side just below the ribs. Small's took in a deep breath but nothing seemed to fill his lungs.

"Watch your back." Jordan gave his thumb a twist, causing a yelp to escape from Small. He moved off just as Robin reached Small's side. She hadn't seen him - he still had the training and skill of an intelligence operative even if he didn't have the discipline.

Small's words were beating down his resolve. The idea of Small touching her let alone...being with her was damning enough without reminding him of the promise he made to Robin. To wait until they were married. When Jordan last saw Robin she was a virgin. He was not naive enough to believe that condition lasted too long.

The more he dwelt on it the more meaningless everything became. The service, his life. He was a failed agent and a failed man. He couldn't even keep the woman he loved. What was the point?

He bumped aside the other guest as he wandered. Scoffs and gasps followed him. He came to a chest high floor blocking his path. He looked up to see a runway had been set up in the room.

Ah, the main event of the Fashion Gala.

As if waiting for Jordan to discover the stage, the music stopped and a disembodied voice spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to the First Annual Metro Detroit Fashion Gala!"

The voice was male but sounded like it had been influenced by helium. A round of applause preceded Helium Voice thanking a list of sponsors. He might have well been spouting out last night's baseball scores – Jordan heard nothing.

A light show started with spotlights of every color flashing around the room. What passed for House music thumped out of speakers – too much bass, not enough soul. Jordan looked for his team so he could gather them and leave. He found no one and returned his eyes to the stage just as a parade of models marched forward. The women came within inches of Jordan, only to turn sharply at the head of the 'T' the runway formed. Jordan had quite unknowingly positioned himself in a prized location to watch the show. All around him, people shoved to get a better view.

~

Cody Random's planned route was almost at an end. He twisted a doorknob and emerged in a makeshift dressing room. Dashing about him was half-dressed models preparing for the upcoming show. He strode the dressing area with the same air that he had in the rest of the building. If anyone thought that Cody didn't belong there, he or she said nothing. He came to the curtain that separated the backstage from the runway and crowd beyond. He pulled back the long black trench coat he wore and slid his hand into his pants pocket. When his hand encircled a small vial, he allowed a brief smile. He poked his head through the curtain. As he did, somewhere a voice was announcing the beginning of the fashion show. A troupe of models got into position and, on cue, moved out onto the runway. The crowd broke into applause as the show began. Spotlights flooded the stage, momentarily blinding Cody. When he regained sight, he scanned the crowd for Kevin. Instead of his contact, Cody's eyes landed on quite a surprise. He placed his hand on the gun holstered to his side. An evil grin came to his lips as Cody hissed out a single word.

"Noble."

~

Jordan looked again for the rest of the UrbanKnights. Anything was better than being here. Nothing would come of it. A flash of a strobe light illuminated the faces of Small and Robin. They literally beamed - smiling and pointing like the happy couple they were. Jordan sighed and forced himself to watch the show. Maybe he could learn something about this fashion world and what attracted Robin to it. He turned back to the stage and something caught his eye. Off to the left of the stage - like someone was peering through the curtains. A spotlight blinded Jordan for a moment. When it moved on, Jordan could see clearly who was at the curtain. He gasped out a name. "Random!"

It was just like Random to appear in the most unexpected place. Shock froze Jordan. It was long enough. Random drew a gun, but didn't point it at Jordan. The gun was fitted with a laser sight. He turned in the general direction Random aimed. Robin stood, as beautiful as ever, but this time with a tiny red dot on her forehead.

Chapter Eleven: The Battle in Cobo!

"No!"

A few brows wrinkled at Jordan's shout. He jumped onto the stage and caused a more profound effect. The models panicked and screamed. They jostled around, not sure what to do with the new addition to the stage. Helium Voice spat out a profanity. The final piece was the gunshot. Both audience and models acted with one accord. Screams of terror drowned out the DJ's selection. Jordan drew his weapon just as Random vanished to backstage. Jordan covered the distance to the curtain in two leaps. He reached the curtain and paused long enough to look in Robin's direction. He was greeted with her face, still attached to her head, twisted in a mask of shock, anger and confusion. He wished he could explain but instead he took comfort he saved her life.

The backstage area was a world of confusion. Half-dressed women darted in every direction, screaming their heads off. A model with Naomi Campbell looks was coherent enough to point in the direction Random left. Jordan bolted in the direction. He kicked open a pair of fire doors. The hallway beyond was empty save a portrait of the Brown Bomber. He flattened against the wall. Gun first, senses reached out as he worked his way down the hall. A squeak of a door sounded behind him. He whirled and came face to face with a dark man who looked at least eighty years old.

"Don't shoot!" the man said. He wore gray janitor overalls.

"I'm not going to hurt you, sir," Jordan said. He lowered his weapon and eased out a smile, yet his voice fought back bitterness. Gus, by the name tag on his overall, wasn't Random and Jordan was wasting time. He turned when gunfire rang out behind Gus. The janitor screamed and arched his back at the impact of a shot. Jordan dove forward and forced the old man back into the room he had just exited. The two men landed abruptly in a closet as several more shots zipped by.

Jordan came to his feet and aimed down the hall in the direction of the shots. He fired three rounds at empty air.

"Jordan Noble!" Random shouted. "Miss me?"

"With every bullet so far." Jordan peeked out and the hallways was still empty. A wicked laugh bounced off the walls. The click and clack of weapon reloading was next.

"This is not the manner in which I wanted us to get reacquainted," Random shouted. "This is so impersonal."

Jordan said nothing this time. He knew which direction Random was – probably just around a corner. What he was doing here was the question. The time for that would come. For now, Jordan took a moment to stop Gus' bleeding. He found a reasonably clean rag and pressed it to the old man's arm.

"How's it going, old timer?"

"Are you supposed to stop that guy?" Gus asked.

Jordan smiled as he had never really thought of it quite like that. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Well," Gus said between winces of pain, "get off yer ass and hop to it!"

Jordan gave the old man a nod. He came to the door and aimed down the hall. Random was at the hall's end, ten yards away, doing the same. A trio of shots from the P7M sent Random scrambling for cover.

"Oh, ho!" That was a fair bit of shooting, Major Noble! Don't you think you victimized the Random family enough for one lifetime, though?"

Jordan knitted his brow. Random was trying to unhinge him. Major Noble no longer existed. Some kind of amateur mind game. He crept down the hall ready to fire again. Just as he moved out of the closet, Gus moaned loudly in pain. Jordan retreated to check on the elderly man.

"You OK, Gus?" Jordan whispered.

"Hell, nah! I'm shot!"

Jordan leaned in, now examining Gus closer – an exit wound surrounded by a circle of dark crimson stain was on the shoulder. Didn't look too bad. Still, gunshots were one of those better to deal with now than later things.

Outside, Random railed again. "I'm so sorry I missed your lady friend. But I'm sure I'll be afforded another opportunity, later."

The pain and embarrassment congealed to a ball deep in Jordan's gut. At Random's words, it expanded to an all-encompassing sphere that engulfed him. Training, discipline be damned. He burst out of the closet. Random rushed from around the corner. The two men stood transfixed - face to face for the first time in four years. Both men had their weapons at the ready. As one they leapt the side, Jordan left, Random to the right side. Weapons flashed fire. Random's shot went wild. Jordan struck the wall and his shot too flew to meet nothing. Random scrambled to his feet in the second Jordan recovered from his impact. He dashed through a fire door, Jordan followed an instant later.

The portal led to a stairwell. He listened for a moment and Random's footfalls betrayed his position. Random's body was barely visible as it descended.

"Cody!" The sound of whistling shots made Jordan hugged the wall. The bullets ricocheted all around followed by the distinct sound of a hammer striking an empty chamber. Jordan raced down the steps. Something struck his legs sending him face forward to the landing. The shock of pain put him back on his game and he kicked out and returned the favor to Random. They crashed down nearly atop one another. On impact, a vial fell from Random's pocket. Jordan got back on his feet, while Random was still on all fours. He reached out for the vial and Jordan shot the outstretched limb. Random raged like an animal and instinctively kicked out. The blow caught Jordan in his chest. It was a good kick, no doubt fueled by desperation. Air returned to Jordan's lungs just in time to see Random crash through a red fire exit at the bottom of the stairs. Jordan took chase again, pausing only to scoop up the fallen vial.

The metal door crashed as Jordan put his shoulder into it, revealing the section of Civic Center Drive running under Cobo's upper level. The street was filled to capacity with limousines honking horns and the Fashion Gala's attendees screaming voices and fleeing for their lives. This was not the way this night was supposed to go.

Jordan spun, eyes sharp for Random. He saw the man, running west towards Joe Louis Arena. The Heckler & Koch P7M reached out like an extension of his arm. He had fired it hundreds of times and targets further than the forty yards or so between him and Random. Of course, it all those times, fifty people weren't scrambling around, running for their lives.

Not a full second went by when the space between him and Random was devoid of innocents. He held his fire and let the cool of the night wash over him. He breathed in deeply and returned his gun to its hiding place under his jacket. Everything in him wanted to take the chase, but he chose to watch his opponent leap in a car and speed away. There'd be another time.

Around him swirled a chaos in color. People who never ran a step in their lives dashed about. The gunshots went off so quick, he was sure no one got a good look at him. Well, almost no one. He wondered how the crowd would feel if they knew one of the shooters was in their midst. He wasn't interested and disappeared back through the door as the sound of police sirens sliced the night air.

The metal stairs tapped under his feet. He became aware of the pain and shock he had just put his body through. Nervous energy started to escape him. A tremble started in his hands and threaten to overtake him completely.

None of that. Not now. He willed away the shock. Work still needed to get done. His hand slid into his pocket and examined the vial he picked up. He didn't know what it was, but it seemed important to Random. It would have been better to have Random, still having something he wanted gave a bit of pleasure to Jordan. And, perhaps, the first break in this case.

~

"I don't remember nothing!" Gus told a trailing police officer. "Some crazy white boy shooting up the place. I ain't seen nobody's face!" Paramedic wheeled Gus out of a nearby door, away from the main entrance. He was only a dozen feet from Jordan.

Gus and Jordan eyes met for a moment. The old janitor raised his chin. Jordan returned the gesture. The paramedic lifted Gus into the ambulance. Code of the street: no snitching.

Jordan felt a warmth come over him. At least something went right. So far it seemed like his rash action hadn't ended the UrbanKnights before they got started. As if his thoughts conjured them up, the limo he rented for the night came into view. The vehicle was locked in traffic like all the others and his three partners stood to its side, awaiting their fourth member.

"What's going on?" Malcolm said.

"It's a madhouse!" Don said.

E-Man took Jordan by the arm. He was a bit ruffled from his encounter with Random. Fighting his way through a panicky crowd didn't help him catch his breath.

"What's going on?" E-Man asked.

"Random." The name came out like a gasp.

"Jesus!" Malcolm said. "What happen? Are you OK?"

Jordan nodded as his friends led him over to the limo. He drew closer and could see through an open rear door, Akio sat in the vehicle. He came to a stop.

"Akio," he asked, "she OK?"

E-Man nodded. "Yeah, she's a little shook up though. She'll be alright." He held up his arm. Jordan got the message to give her some space for the moment. He nodded and climbed into the front seat with the driver. The rest of the team got in the back.

Jordan said, "Can you get us outta here?" The driver, a young man with short dreads stared at his client. Getting over the breach in limousine etiquette, the driver turned on the car and began his navigation. Jordan loosen his tie, leaned into the seat and went into a fitful sleep.

Two hours disappeared as the limousine traversed a block to Atwater and ultimately Jefferson Avenue. From the Fist of Joe Louis at the foot of Woodward Avenue, a swarm of red and blue lights winked on and off. The accompanying police directed traffic to the Chrysler Freeway.

"Let me out here," Jordan said. He got out on Jefferson in front of the Renaissance Center and directly opposite the UrbanKnights' office. He went to the rear passenger window. It lowered with an electronic whisper, revealing E-Man's face.

"I'll check with you guys tomorrow," Jordan said. On E-Man's shoulder rested Akio's head. As such, he had no jokes or parting quips for Jordan. Just a bounce of his chin and the telescoping up of the window.

The limo moved on. Once down the service drive and onto the freeway proper, the stream of police cars, news vans and other limos thinned and traffic moved up to and beyond posted speeds. Jordan jogged across the street, zig zagging between the traffic. He rounded the corner to get to the UrbanKnights parking lot. The square blacktop was empty saved the white van and a pair of Honda Accords. He chose the gray one, popping the lock with the key he always carried. Behind the wheel, he was still for a moment, convincing himself his plan was the best course of action. With a twist of the key, Jordan made up his mind. It was time to call on Robin Summers.

Chapter Twelve: An Old Flame Burnt Out

The sky threatened with a storm. The streetlights bounced off the low canopy of clouds hanging over the city like the wrath of some angry god. Jordan's mood matched the sky's. The Accord's engine acted like a bass line to the melancholy soundtrack playing in his head. Cody Random had crossed a line. Trying to kill him was one thing, but going after Robin...some things just weren't done.

He clicked on the radio. The local news spoke of a disturbance at an event in the Cobo Center. A switch of the dial and the R&B station did a quick statement on gunfire downtown. Finally, Detroit's home for hip hop mentioned something was going down in downtown. Cute. Jordan blew the tension out of his body as none of the stations reported any eye witness accounts of the shooters. He had fired a few rounds which embedded into the walls of the Cobo. He had no chance of getting the bullets out before the police began its investigation. He was going to have to switch guns. Which was too bad as he was just getting use to the one under his right arm. Still, it wasn't a good idea to get too attached to a weapon. It was a tool, not a friend. Besides, he had six more P7Ms at home.

All of which was a problem for later. Jordan needed to focus on the fight ahead. It would be, in its own way, just as dangerous as the one he just left. It couldn't be avoided. He had to get to the bottom of Robin's involvement. If she was a hapless victim caught in the crossfire, he had to do everything he could to save her. If not...he'd rather not think about it.

He turned off the Chrysler Freeway at the 8 Mile exit. He knew where Robin lived. He always did. He knew after college, she spent some time in Japan and later Hawaii. He knew when she returned to Detroit. He was a former agent of the Defense Intelligence Agency turned private investigator – of course he knew. But he stayed away.

He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex just off Southfield Rd. They were the city's effort to attract new, middle- and upper middle-class singles. Designed to look like townhouses, each unit had a short flight of stairs leading to each unit's individual entrance.

He took to her stairs, bounding up two at a time. At her door, he rapped quickly, perhaps too quickly. He didn't stop to think about it – he just committed. The wait made his stomach tighten. He was reminded of a not so different feeling the first time he knocked on her door.

The door opened and Robin stood in a heather gray Michigan State sweat suit. Her hairdo had collapsed around her ears, a victim of the rushed exit from Cobo. Still, he was stunned speechless.

"You!" Robin's eyes narrowed. She swung the door shut, but he caught it in mid-swing. She drew in a breath through clenched teeth.

"I have to talk to you, Robin."

She waivered left and right as if of two minds – let him in, don't let him in. The battle ended and she stepped aside. He came into a living room. It was nicely furnished with a huge watercolor of a seascape over the couch. Something unseen floated in the air betraying the presence of a cat hiding.

Robin asked, "How did you find me?" Her eyes had a nervous energy as they went from his eyes to his hands and back again. He knew the look. She was looking for any signs of violence.

"It's what I do."

Robin sighed. "Look, Jordan. I ain't got time for this 'I'm the cool detective' role of yours. Say what you need to say and get out."

Jordan's face tightened. He wasn't trying to be cool. He didn't want to fight with Robin, something that was just one wrong word away. Being alone in her presence sent him into a maelstrom of emotions. Nothing was between them. No boyfriend marking his territory. No crowds of fashionistas. Her mere being was overwhelming. He tried to will away the tidal wave of emotion, the same way he did after his gun battle – but nothing. It had been more than a decade since they were alone together. That night ended in tears, but even then, the love he felt...there had been other women, some he truly loved – one more than others. Still...

He turned away from her and focused his attention on some nit-nats Robin had on a table. "Your boyfriend is a dangerous man. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't warn you about him." His voice was a shadow of itself.

"Oh, really?" Robin answered, arms folded across her chest. "How...Noble of you."

Jordan whirled to face her. It was the second time tonight someone had made a pun of his name. It pissed him off. He fastened on that anger to get over the other emotion that engulfed him.

"Yeah," he said, "That whole thing at the Fashion Gala went down because of him!"

"Oh, is that right? I seem to remember you shooting at God knows what, not Kevin!" Robin pointed an accusing finger at his chest.

"I was being shot at by Small's partner, an international criminal!" The conversation was now a full-blown argument.

"You have got to be shitting me! You fucking...you never grew up. You're not some sort of hero!"

Jordan opened his mouth but for a moment nothing came out. "You...you think I'm making this up? Well, did you know that your precious Kevin was a drug dealer before he came to Detroit, huh?"

"Yes, I did."

Outside, the first thunder of approaching storm boomed. Jordan was stunned for a moment.

"What?" Robin said, "You'd think he'd hide something like that from me. He's not like all men, you know."

Jordan let the last remark slide. Defending himself and his past action was not the issue at hand. "Robin, he's still dealing. The man I was trying to catch is his partner." He caught the edge working its way into his voice and focused on lowering his tone.

"You're lying!" She threw her arms into the air and brought them down on either side of her head. She turned and headed deeper into the apartment.

"Why would I be lying, Bird? Now come on!"

A moment of silence stretched into an impossibly long interval. Jordan wondered why Robin hadn't responded to his question, when it dawned on him.

Oh, shit.

"What did you call me?" Robin turned back to him. One wrong word. Jordan winced and wished he could pull the last sentence out of the air.

"Bird."

All of Robin's features expanded to their maximum size. "Don't you ever call me that! You understand! Never!"

"I-I'm sorry, it slipped."

"Then why don't you slip on outta here! Go on, get!" Robin pointed to the door.

Jordan headed out. He put his hand on the doorknob. "Robin you're still in danger."

Robin took a step closer. "What do I have to do to get rid of you? Stop trying to save me! That's your problem – it's always been your problem!"

He wasn't ready for that. "What?"

Her voice reached an impossible high note. "Get out! You're nothing to me! Hear me, nothing! Get the hell out of here before I call the police!"

Jordan said nothing. He touched a nerve. Got too close – unearthed some secret she rather stayed buried. Whatever it was, retreat was his best option. Head held down, He slipped out. The door slammed shut with a thunder drowning out the sobbing within for only a moment.

Drops of rain, the vanguards for the inevitable storm accompanied Jordan to the Honda. As he dropped into the car, the storm begun in earnest. He cursed himself for getting too comfortable. Bird. How could he be so stupid? Given the pure hate she had for him, what else but rage could come from calling out her old pet name?

He contemplated his next move as the rain drummed down on the car. Without thought he put his hands in his pockets. He found the vial he captured from Random. Jordan studied the contents. A chalky yellow powder rolled around in the glass cylinder as he twisted it between his fingers. A quick glance to the dashboard and illuminated number reported the time. 11:37. Still time to check in on an old friend who could help him with the mysterious vial. He started the car and moved out.

~

Kevin Small returned to Unlimiteds after dropping off Robin. He didn't want to leave a digital trail of phone calls to Random everywhere. Better to keep using the office. He clanked up the metal stairs of the office quarterdeck. The door was open – just slightly ajar. He reached and searched the wall for the light switch. A snap and the overheads ignited revealing a pair of the strangest white men he had ever seen. One was in a white dress shirt and black pants. The other looked like an extra from Westworld, complete with a floor length duster. They both had long unkempt hair, one darker than the other.

"Not the way I had planned on meeting tonight," the guy in the shirt said. Pain played in his voice as a thin trail of blood worked its way down his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Small shouted. He stood transfixed in the doorway for awkward seconds. His eyes bounced between the strangers.

"My...associate." the seated man gestured weakly, "Mr. er, Slash."

Small caught on. This was the mysterious voice on the phone. Not at all what Small envisioned. The man seated at his desk was slight with stringy blonde hair. Not the figure of power Small was coming to expect. "You're Cody Random?"

The blond inclined his head. He was involved in the gunfight at Cobo judging by the gunshot wound to his arm.

"Calm yourself, Kevin, old boy," Random said. A wince of pain brought Slash to his side. He began a crude field dressing to Random's arm.

"That was you at the Gala, wasn't it?" Small asked.

Random said nothing. Slash however flashed a scowl. Small entertained the idea of fleeing the room but Random's voice froze him in place.

"Sit down."

Small sat, not even commenting on the fact that he was sitting in a client's chair and Random was behind the desk. His desk.

"I have a confession to make," Random said, rocking back in the chair. "My dealing with you is not my primary motivation for being here."

Small shook his head. "What? What are you talking about?"

Slash eased around the desk closer to Small. He saw the man in the duster but his focus remained on Random.

"I have an old score to settle," Random said, "with Jordan Noble."

Small was on his feet. His face was etched in anger. "The detective? That guy who use to see Robin? But, why?"

"He is an enemy of mine."

Small pounced toward the desk and brought his face inches from Random. Behind him, Small sensed movement from the Slash character. A slight gesture from Random halted him.

"Nothing has change," Random said, "as far as you are concerned."

Small stabbed a finger in Random, "Look, any games you got with Noble, that's all you. Just leave me outta it!"

Random leaned back and waved a dismissing gesture. "My friend -"

"No!" Small said. "This guy is trouble! Bustin' up in my place. Doin' the Wild West routine at the Gala. No way. No way, man."

Random's face transformed. Red colored his features. Eyes narrowed. The glance froze whatever words Small had in his throat. Random stood up and Small backed away and bumped into Slash. He was between a rock and a hard place.

"A deal of this magnitude requires some risks," Random said slowly.

Small's next words felled clumsily from his lips. "B-but I'm taking all the risks."

Wordlessly, Random gestured to his injured arm. Small squirmed as his argument fell apart.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Small said. "No one was supposed to know about me." It wasn't his finest moment as his voice cracked.

Random walked around the desk, his hand to his chin. He nodded. "I don't know how Noble secured your identity. He is apparently quite resourceful."

"Too damn resourceful!" Small gestured and bumped into Slash. Reminded he was surrounded, Small untensed and dropped his shoulders. Random stopped directly in front of Small and leaned on the desk.

"I take it," Random said, his voice a low rumble, "you would prefer to not have further dealing with Noble?"

Small studied Random's expression to determine what answer he wanted to hear. The face was blank and devoid of emotion.

"Well?" Random's voice was low but it caused Small to jump nevertheless.

"No." The word was formed quickly.

"I suspected as much." Random walked towards a water cooler in the corner. He drew from the cooler and drank slowly. He repeated his actions. Small tapped his foot as he waited.

"I propose that we distract Noble's attentions away from our operation."

Small shook his head. "I don't follow you."

Random went through his drinking routine again. "What do we have that Noble wants?"

Small's face was blank. A second later, his eyes bulged. "No!"

Off to the side, Slash chuckled, a quiet, humorless sound. Random walked toward Small. Gently, he placed his hand on Small's shoulder. "It's the only way. You know that."

Small reached down for internal fortitude. "No, there's got to be another -"

"Kevin, this is a multi-million, billion, dollar operation. Do you want to risk it?'

Small shook his head.

"Besides," Random worked his arm around Small's shoulder and led him to the door, "You can get another, any that you want, once this is over. It's not like you were in love, right?"

They reached the door. Small paused as he muddled over Random's last question. "No."

Random reached and opened the door. He gently pushed Small out of the room. Never mind it was his office.

"Not to worry, my friend. Just take care of your end, and I will distract Noble."

"But..."

"Fear not." Random smiled. "She will be unaware of your involvement. Go home! We'll let ourselves out."

~

Random closed the door. Through the glass, he watched Small disappear down the stairs. Behind him, Slash approached.

"When we gonna off this spade?"

Random turned, "Tis, tis, Slash, such language. Political correctness. Mr. Small will be eliminated as soon as his usefulness is no more. For now, alert your comrades, there is much to do if we are to...distract Noble."

Slash smiled and actually licked his lips. He sped from the room. Random, alone, allowed himself a wicked smile.

"I wonder what she tastes like, this, Robin Summers."
Chapter Thirteen: Jordan Noble to the Rescue!

Jordan hardly noticed the rain following him down the Lodge Freeway from Southfield to the New Center Area. It was coming down in buckets but his sole focus was reaching Henry Ford Hospital before midnight. He glanced at his dash clock. He was just going to make it. Now, if she was just there...

The hospital was a massive collection of rectangles that loomed over the freeway. A huge old school building that will be here after the nukes fell. Jordan exited the freeway and headed west down Grand Boulevard. He drove to the rear of the hospital to a small parking lot. He quickened his pace as if that would avoid the rain. He opened the door below the sign THE HENRY FORD COMMUNITY MEDIAL UNIT. It was an experiment of the hospital to relieve the burden on its emergency room. Too many under insured patients overran it with routine visits.

He got inside and all his senses were assaulted. The waiting room was filled to capacity with people of every shape, color and size. Somewhere a child was screaming his head off. Presently, another kid picked up the chorus. The smell of disheveled persons and various bodily fluids combined to concoct an atmosphere almost made Jordan vomit.

"We close." an overweight security guard barked. Jordan flashed him a look of contempt.

"IRS." As at Unlimiteds, the big guard backed off. Jordan made his way to the receptionist. She sat behind a bulletproof glass. She slid a small door in the glass open an inch and leaned her round chocolate face into the gap.

"We close."

These people got something against the word 'are'?

"I'm not here for an appointment," Jordan said, "I -"

"We close!" The little glass slid to the shut position.

He glared through the window as if looks could kill. She ignored him and went on with her business of winding down for the night. He resigned himself to his situation and walked back to the door and leaned against the wall. The fat guard leaned on the opposite side. He laughed, probably figuring Jordan for some sucker who couldn't tell time and got to the unit too late. The fact Jordan was still in his tuxedo made no difference.

The door flew open with a crash, pinning the hapless guard behind it. Jordan moved for his P7M but froze mid-movement as he saw who had kicked the door open. A tall rail thin man wielding a shotgun exploded into the room. His eyes were unfocused and swam around. That, and the ungodly smell waffling from his tattered clothes and Jordan knew this man was on some drug or suffering from the aftereffects.

"Gimme the drugs!" the gunman shouted. Every occupant in the room seemed to try to out-scream the other. The criminal whirled his weapon to the chest of the guard.

"Don't do it! I'll shoot you, man."

The security guard put his hands over his head. Tears streamed down his face. No longer a threat to him, the gunman moved to the receptionist window.

"Didn't you hear me, bitch!" he shouted. "Get me some drugs! I know you got 'em!"

"I – I," was all the receptionist could muster.

"Oh, you think you safe behind that glass, huh?" the gunman asked. He fired his weapon with a thunderous blast. The screaming went up a notch. The glass spider-webbed.

I'm in 'Coming to America'...Jordan thought.

"Y'all gots pain killers and shit! Get me some!"

The receptionist disappeared beneath her desk and wasn't a very good target to threaten. The gunman picked another – a frail woman, who looked ninety, easy. She sat in the first seat just to the right of Jordan. The gunman bodily lifted her.

"I better get what I want or I'm shootin' this old bitch!" He put the shotgun to the woman's head. Surprisingly, the woman didn't make a sound.

Not good. Jordan assessed. Unstable target. Innocent between me and target. It's bang bang time. I better -

"Put down the gun. There's no need for violence."

Jordan's thoughts were cut off by a woman's voice. She was a tall, slim woman with coffee skin. Her black hair, just reached her jaw line. Her face was calm as she spoke, as if crisis situations were nothing new to her. Probably given the doctor's smock she wore, it wasn't. Jordan, however, was not as calm.

Great, a hero.

The gunman was not impressed either. "You know what I want!"

"I know," the doctor said, holding her hands out and walking towards the gunman, "but I can't do that."

"Bullshit!" the gunman exploded. "Dis lady is dead at the count of three!"

The doctor stopped and dropped her hands to her sides. "Then you might as well kill me now."

"Your funeral, bitch." The gunman threw the old woman to the side and leveled his shotgun at the doctor. Jordan leapt forward. He grabbed the gun's barrel and spun it upward. The weapon discharged and ceiling fragments rained. The gunman turned to Jordan with wide eyes. Jordan reverse the spin on the barrel. The shoulder stock struck the gunman's chin. The blow knocked the man off his feet and sent the shotgun flying through the air. Jordan caught the flying weapon and brought it to bear on the criminal a second after he hit the floor with a thump.

"Now," Jordan said, "I think you owe that nice old lady an apology."

"Apology, my ass!" the nice old lady said. She stomped over to the fallen villain and delivered a swift kick to the crotch. She flashed a smile to Jordan.

"Bless you, son." The voice was as sweet as if she were exiting church. He was struck dumb and didn't know if he should focus on the befallen gunman or the kung-fu granny. Something latched onto his arms. Or rather, someone. The doctor spun him to face her.

"What in the world were you thinking?"

Jordan lowered the shotgun. "Just dropped by to say hi, Jack." He smiled while the doctor's face twisted into disbelief. Without another word, Dr. Jacqueline Myers embraced Jordan as tightly as she could.

~

The police arrived and took the gunman into custody. Jackie spirited Jordan into one of the examination rooms. He waited as she answered the cops' questions. The door opened and Jackie came in.

"All clear?" Jordan asked.

Jackie stood with her back to the door. He watched as her full breast sank and rose beneath her white coat. He tightened his lips and realized, from her point of view, the past half hour was fairly dramatic. A minute and a half passed and her breathing returned to normal.

"The police are gone," she said, "if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." He allowed her the bravado. He understood how upsetting people pointing guns at you could be. Still, she tried to appear calm.

Damn doctors. Always got to be in control.

"I should hire you to come in here every night at closing and attack someone," she said. "Twenty minutes ago, crying children and yelling adults filled the room. Now it's empty. I may actually get home at a decent time."

"You're welcome."

She walked toward him with a grin. She clumsily tried to hide it with a lip lick – still trying to regain control. She had on a black skirt that hit her right at the knee. It showed enough of her legs to engage his imagination. It was her legs that first attracted him to her.

"Thank you," she said as she reached him. Her face suddenly grew serious. She cocked her head to one side and studied his face. Jordan recognized the look.

"Hey, I'm fine. I'm -"

"Sit down," Jackie said as if she wasn't listening. "I want to look at your head."

Jordan sputtered a protest, but Jackie was having none of that. She gestured towards the examination table. Defeated, Jordan hopped on. Jackie moved close. She began inspecting a cut he gotten. He didn't know it existed until she started poking around at it.

"When did this happen?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Was it while you were fighting that gunman?"

"Which one?"

Jackie stepped back at his words. She looked at him for a long time without expression. It, as it always had, made him uncomfortable.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"What?"

She ran his lapel between her fingers. A second later, she was back looking at his cut. He smiled. He had forgotten he was still in his tux.

"I was at a fashion show. Black tie."

"And you didn't invite me?" She did something to the cut to produce an 'ouch' from Jordan.

"You wouldn't have liked it anyway," Jordan said after he recovered. "Besides, I crashed."

"Ah. A case for the UrbanKnights?" She smiled. The overly romantic name made it easy to poke fun. She stepped away, the doctor's look still on her face.

"Well, am I going to live, Jack?" He was the only one who called her that.

She didn't speak as she turned to a medicine cabinet. A second later, she was facing Jordan again – this time with cotton balls and alcohol. She set the items down on the bed then went to the sink. She washed her hands, no doubt an automatic response and called over her shoulder. "So, what do I owe the honor of this surprise visit?"

"You mean, besides keeping some nut case from decorating your waiting room with your insides?"

Jackie finished at the sink and was dabbing the alcohol onto a cotton ball. "Yeah, besides that. Sting coming." She applied the alcohol to Jordan's head.

"I need your- Yeow!"

Jackie applied pressure. "Big baby. It isn't that bad."

Jordan began pulling his head away. "Why do all doctors say that when they're killing you."

Jackie ignored Jordan's quip. She replaced the cotton ball with another one, without alcohol. She took Jordan's left hand and guided to his cut.

"Hold."

Jordan did as he was instructed as Jackie put away her torture devices. "You need my what?"

"What?"

"You said you need my...then you started screaming like I was killing you." Jackie didn't even bother hiding this smile.

Jordan didn't respond to the obvious joy at his pain. "Your help. I need your help." He reached into his jacket pocket and gave her the test tube. Jackie took it and gave it a passing glance.

"Crack. You know, Jordan, if you're having some trouble, I have counseling Mondays and Thursdays. You don't have to turn to this."

"That's the last thing I want is to be on your couch."

A moment, almost undetectable, of silence passed as the pair absorbed the suggestive nature of the last statement. Something about her that always put him off his game. Maybe it was the attempt he made at a relationship years ago. Maybe it was she was one of the few civilians who knew the depth of his service in the DIA.

"Er, anyway," he said, "it's not crack. Look at it again."

She held the tiny bottle close to her face, turning it around.

"It's yellowish."

Jordan got off the table and pitched the cotton ball into a nearby trashcan. He stepped closer to Jackie.

"That's right, doctor," Jordan said, "it's crush."

"Crush?"

Jordan sighed. "It's a long story."

Jackie stepped back and lowered herself into a chair. She folded her arms as she sat down. "Well?" She did a little head motion black women have perfected over the years. Jordan sighed again, hopped back on the examination table and began the story.

"Did I ever tell you about Cody Random?"

She looked at the ceiling as she accessed the recesses of her memory. While he was still a government operative, she had become his confidant. Sworn to secrecy, Jackie used her Master's in Psychology to help Jordan come to terms with the blood he spilt.

"He was a drug dealer or something," she said. "I remember him because it was a kind of police action. Not the usual terrorist villainy you faced." She smiled with all her teeth showing. She always used humor to defuse the tension of Jordan's adventures. Maybe it was a coping technique. Maybe she was just making fun of him. Didn't matter. Her voice was smoky like a black Loren Bacall in a remake of 'The Big Sleep'. He could listen to her talk all night.

"He's back," Jordan said. He brought her up to date with everything from the CIA agents appearing in his office to the events at the Cobo Center. After he finished his tale, Jackie didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"And?"

"And, what?" Jordan said. Jackie started into one of her routines. Whenever she wasn't satisfied with Jordan's answers, she would give him a 'once over'. She'd focused on various parts of his body. She wasn't checking him out. She was looking for 'tells' - nervous twitches and such. Anything showing he was lying, or not being entirely truthful. Jordan never really knew what exactly she was looking for, but, somehow, she always knew. It drove him crazy. He, who had been a government agent and was trained to lie, could not keep anything from this woman. She occasionally looked him in the eye. Finally, he had enough.

"OK, OK!"

"Well?" Jackie said, smugness rang in her voice.

"Robin," Jordan said as a one-word answer. It was enough.

Jackie groaned as she put her head in her hand. She sat up, adjusted her skirt and tried to approach the topic as tactfully as possible. Finally, she breathed a long sigh. "So, what – I mean, how -"

She's dating this Small guy." Jordan wanted to get over this part. She knew about his relationship with Robin. It was another weakness he wasn't so keen reliving. "Well, more than dating him apparently."

"That's what adults do." She studied her hands for a moment then raised her eyes to his – gauging the impact of her words. He twisted his lips.

"I know what adults do, Jack." His tone was even but the context was there.

"That's awfully coincidental."

"Yeah. I've considered that." He got off the table again.

"Jack, I need you to figure out how this stuff was made." He pointed at the vial in her slender fingers.

Jackie stood up and reexamined the crush. She nodded. "OK. I've got lab tomorrow, I'll break it down – see what makes it tick. No promises."

Jordan nodded back at her and headed for the door. As he reached for the knob he looked back at his friend. Shouldn't have done that.

"What?"

It was the 'doctor look' again. Wordlessly, she moved close. She took his chin in her hand and twisted his head any way she felt to inspect his wound. She stood very close to him. It was perfectly innocent, but Jordan felt a pang of uncomfortableness with her in his personal space.

"Jack..."

If she heard him, Jackie gave no sign. Her breath was on his cheek - her breasts brushed his chest. Jordan swallowed hard and audibly.

"What's wrong?" she asked and pulled back enough to look him in the eye. A doctor mindful of her patient's pains. "Does it hurt?"

"Heh, not there." She frowned and slapped his chest with the back of her hand. His meaning was clear. It had been clear since junior year in college. She could but wouldn't cure that pain. He grinned at his own mischievousness.

"Anyway," she drew the word out, "it's not too bad. You don't need stitches. Barely. I know you won't let me, but you should see to some dressing." She smiled. "It's a good thing you got a hard head." She briefly wrapped her arms around him. "OK, off you go. I'll call you tomorrow about this stuff."

Jordan opened the door, "Thanks, Jack. I owe you."

"You certainly do."

He was almost to the building's entrance when she called him. "Jordan, thanks for saving my life."

"No charge."

Chapter Fourteen: Alone with His Thoughts

It was what they called a hidden gem. The redbrick apartment building was off the river, east of downtown. Three blocks south of Jefferson, it was almost unknown and undetected by the majority of the city's residents. Suiting Jordan just fine. As soon as he moved in, he knew he wouldn't be here long. It was nice enough, but a house was definitely in his future. Besides, they didn't allow dogs.

The rain assaulted the window rapidly and with surprising power. Like Elvin Jones came back for a one night only show. Once a late summer shower now it was a full-blown storm. Joe Sample came from a laptop's Bluetooth speakers and played appropriately "Stormy Weather". It echoed through the lonely, mostly empty rooms. No need for furniture – not going to be here long. The laptop set on the floor next to Jordan's couch in the living room. A couple of recliners were stationed before a sixty-five-inch curved television. One side of the room was dedicated to a wet bar. Jordan didn't drink, but his friends did and a good host was always prepared.

He knelt before a safe built into an end table. He would have gotten through the combination quicker, if a black ball of fur and energy wasn't constantly nipping at his fingers.

Jordan leaned back, towering over the six-month-old schnauzer. The dog stood on his hind legs, his front paws dancing to reach his master.

"This is why I have to move, Galahad. You won't be still. We're gonna get caught."

"Arf!" Galahad said. His paws found Jordan's knee and he moved in for the attack. Jordan rubbed the dog's head.

"Pillow."

Galahad reared back. Danced in place for a few moments.

"Pillow." The voice had more authority now. The dog took a few more steps, then with all the clumsiness of a puppy, scampered over to a dog pillow. He whined for a few moments, then put his head down with what could only be described as a sigh. Jordan shook his head. Free from interference, he went back to the safe.

The safe clicked open. Jordan drew out a metal box the size of a shoebox and a bottle. He couldn't let his pistol be connected to the bullets the police would doubtlessly find at Cobo. He poured the contents of the bottle into the box. It was a solution that would remove his fingerprints. He put the P7M in the box. He locked the box and hissed through his teeth. He had this gun for about four years now and kinda liked it. Couldn't be helped now. As soon as the rain stop, he'd go outside and pitch the thing into the Detroit River.

Gonna have to come up with a better solution than this.

The Heckler and Koch P7M with the 13 round clip was not being made anymore, and wasn't available in the United States. Good thing he had seven. He went to his bedroom and pulled from beneath the bed, a pistol storage box. Feeding it the combination, another P7M came into view. He cleaned and inspected it and set out three extra magazines as opposed to his usual two.

Can't be too careful.

He putted around, trying to think of things to do. He considered cruising around town, looking for possible locations Random could be lurking. Or maybe he'd go by Small and see if the asshole was doing something stupid. Those ideas wouldn't go well. E-Man would lecture him and Malcolm would think of something to argue about while Don just nodded. Mrs. Steed would get in on it if she had the chance.

In for the night, he went to the kitchen. No amount of training could keep a puppy away from his owner once he was in the place with the food. Galahad's tail beat out a rhythm not quite in time with the latest musical selection, Miles Davis' 'Blue In Green.' The dog got a bacon flavored treat and Jordan forced down a cup of coffee.

"Gotta find a new drink." Jordan twisted his nose to the black liquid. He had a memory of something else he like but it faded into the dark just like the passing Coast Guard cutter sliding down the river beyond his window.

They retired to the living room. Jordan sat and Galahad curled next to him. He thought about many things – how much he missed England to the muggy weather that was sure to follow all this rain. Finally, he stopped trying not to think about it and thought about it.

Cody Random.

Kevin Small.

Robin.

How did they all fit together? Why, of all the people, Random could have hooked up with, did he pick the guy that was dating Robin?

That's right, say dating. You know what they're really doing.

That's what adults do...

In any case, even Jack knew it was too coincidental. What was going on? Was this some plan of Random to get back at Jordan? How could he possibly know whom Small was dating? How could he know of Jordan's connection to Robin? All from prison. Random was smart, but to figure out all of this from a cell was some Lex Luthor level shit going on.

Who is helping you, Cody?

Someone going to buy this crush, no doubt. And the CIA, what's their angle. Maybe this buyer (buyers?) was some foreign power or terrorists...CIA got a hard on over terrorists. Who the hell knew. But, still, it didn't explain how Random knew about Jordan and Robin.

His cell flashed and buzzed to life. Jordan caught it on the second ring. He knew who it was before he answered.

"What up, E?"

"Yo."

Jordan glanced at his grandfather clock his mother gave him. Its hands pointed at the three and four.

"It's late, E," Jordan said. "What are you doing up? How's Akio?"

E-Man sighed. "She's fine. She's pissed at you."

Jordan groaned. "Sorry, I'll make it up to you two."

"Right, right." E-Man laughed without humor. "So, what when down at Cobo?"

Jordan explained Random sudden appearance on stage. The shoot-out. How he got the crush off Random. E-Man's attention spiked.

"Oh, snap. I'm sure that ticked him off."

"Not as much as me shooting him." E-Man's laugh crackled over the line.

"So, where's the crush now?" E-Man asked.

Jordan yawned. "It's late, E. I'll tell you tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Sure. Sure."

"One more thing, E. I went by Robin's."

E-Man whistled. "I bet that went over well."

"Like a fart in a church. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You mean later today. See ya, man." E-Man hung up.

Jordan hung up as well. Outside, the thunder boomed.

Chapter Fifteen: Snapped

Jordan was like a caged animal. Everyone else had a job to do. Malcolm continued the surveillance on the properties Kevin Small owned. Don was busy tracking any electronic trail, no matter how slim, to Cody Random. E-Man was busy keeping the rest of the agency on course. An additional duty of his was to monitor Jordan's sanity. The two men were the only detectives on the second floor of the office building. Every five minutes, E-Man popped his head into Jordan's office. Every five minutes, he saw Jordan pacing.

The crush was the key. It didn't matter who was involved or why. They had to make the stuff somewhere. It was up to Jackie now. If she could somehow figure out how Random made the drug, maybe they could figure out where he made it. It was a long shot – Jackie was a great doctor, but reverse engineering an exotic designer drug wasn't exactly her specialty.

Now, all the detectives could do was watch Kevin Small, and hope Random would pop up. Jordan doubted it would happen. He had his hands literally on Random. No way he was going to reveal himself twice. The frustration twisted and poisoned Jordan's guts. He hadn't eaten since the afternoon before. While he didn't consciously feel any hunger – the lack of food and disappointment created a concoction dissolving most of his social skills.

E-Man appeared at the door again. He was actually in a suit more conservative than his usual fare. He even wore a tie. His face lacked the usual grin. Jordan imagined the effects of the prior evening's events on his wife.

"How is she?" Jordan asked.

E-Man shrugged as he headed for his usual seat. "Meh. She's OK."

Jordan came over and sat on the desk's edge not too far from E-Man. He had on kakis and a black t-shirt – his usual mission ready wear. When E-Man didn't expand on his wife's condition, Jordan bore down with a stare.

"Well," E-Man said, "she's concern. You know, bullets flying and all that shit."

Jordan nodded. He didn't have a spouse but that didn't mean he didn't know what worry was.

"You talk to her today?" Jordan asked.

"Just now. She was really shook up about last night, but she knows the deal. She'll be cool, trust me."

Jordan got up and went back to his high back leather chair. His eyes focused into an empty corner of the office. The world faded away and he descended into a pit of self-pity. Random was still on the loose, and, of course, it was all his fault.

"What's with you?" E-Man leaned forward to intercept Jordan's view into oblivion.

"Random," Jordan said. "I let him get away. I had him and I just let him go."

"I doubt that," E-Man said. Jordan snapped his head towards his partner. His teeth were already bared.

"Come on," E-Man said, "you let him get away. Whatever. You gave it your best shot. These things happen, you know that."

Jordan's voice was lined with irritation. "You weren't there, E. You don't know. I'm slipping. I should have been able to handle Cody Random."

E-Man rose from his seat and leaned his knuckles on the desk. "Look, if you going to be throwing a pity party, we ain't going to ever catch this guy."

Jordan was not in the mood and E-Man was pushing his buttons. It wasn't the time.

"Just because Robin's involved doesn't mean you got to trip out. Get over it."

Jordan sprang to his feet. "Don't go there, E-Man. Don't. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you been all up in your feeling since the almighty US Air Force took away some damn gold leaves off your shoulders. You need to let it go, son."

They hovered across the desk, a hair, if that, apart. A virtual electricity filled the space between them. A gentle knock tapped at the door. They turned as one to see Mrs. Steed enter. She cast a look from one man to the other, narrowing her eyes with each rotation.

"Oh, is everything alright?"

"Yes, Mrs. Steed," Jordan said, his voice straining to maintain a polite air.

Ms. Steed stepped closer, still bouncing from one man to the other – on the lookout for wherever the explosion was going to come from. When no attack came she smiled.

"Well, then, I guess since there appears to be a lull in the case, this would be a good time to call your mother."

"God damn it!" Jordan exploded. His hand came down flat on the top of his desk. "Mrs. Steed, give it a rest!"

Mrs. Steed clutched at her chest. Even E-Man drew away. Her breath returned as did her professionalism. "Yes, sir," she said. "I'm terribly sorry. Do forgive me." Back straight, she turned and left.

"That was uncalled for, man," E-Man said after the secretary closed the door.

Jordan started to reply, but he stopped, the words hanging in his throat. The last several minutes had just replayed in his mind. His outburst at Mrs. Steed crystalized everything he been going through since he saw Robin.

Since this case started.

Since the almighty US Air Force had taken away some damn gold leaves off his shoulders.

It took his way out of line explosion to make him realize how bad this case got to him. E-Man was right. Jordan himself had seen it. He held on so tightly to the very sense of identity the service had given him he completely forgotten who he was. He stared at E-Man, unable to speak – feeling like a complete jerk. He was suddenly hungry.

A purr came from the desk phone.

"Jordan Noble."

"Jordan." Jackie's voice was breathy and rapid. His heart raced at her voice. "Jack!" Jordan's eyes locked with E-Man's.

"You've got to get down here," Jackie said. "I got something incredible to show you."

"What is it?" Jordan's fist tightened on the phone.

"Just come quick. You won't believe it. I'm at the lab in Henry Ford. North wing, tenth floor. I'll leave word at security you're on your way. Hurry."

"Got it – en route." He was a blur of movement as he hung up, grabbed his A-2 jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the door in one motion.

"Look at you," E-Man said, falling in step. "All military and shit. 'En route.' Does this mean you're back?"

"The pity party is officially over. E, yo, I've been a total asshole, I -"

"Wouldn't be the first time," E-Man said without missing a beat. It was not the coolest thing to say but all things considered... "What's up?"

"Dunno – she wouldn't say," Jordan said. "let's go."

The two were on their way down the hall. Jordan stopped at Mrs. Steed's crescent moon desk. The secretary busied herself with paperwork and did not look up at her employer.

"Good day, Mr. Noble," she said. Her hands moved over the desk, doing all the things she normally did. Jordan reached and took her by her left hand, forcing her to stop. She did and looked up slowly into Jordan's eyes. A touch of fear made her lips tremble.

"I'm sorry," Jordan said. The words were genuine – uttered slow and with purpose. His eyes also begged forgiveness.

Mrs. Steed placed her right hand over Jordan's and gave it a tight little squeeze.

"Good luck, sir," she whispered. A secret smile and Jordan was off.

~

"I gave Jack a sample of crush," Jordan said as the Vette whipped out of the parking lot and thundered down Lanred. Tires protested as they turned onto Jefferson Avenue.

E-Man's lips curved into a wicked smile. "'I'm a failure. I should have done better.'"

"Shut up, E. No one likes a know-it-all." Jordan tried to hide a smile. He failed. Grabbing the crush and passing it to Jackie were pretty good ideas. Something a competent agent would have done. Yes, the pity party was over.

"I figured Jack would be able to dissect this crush. If we knew what it was made of, it might make tracking down Random easier."

E-Man elevated his chin to that. "Makes sense. I guess. As long as it's not something too common."

Jordan blew a light and jumped on the Lodge freeway. "That's my thinking."

"Your hope you mean." E-Man was quiet for a moment. The whine of the Corvette's five hundred horses racing up to eighty miles per hour filled the void.

"You know, "E-Man said, "I've been thinking."

"Uh, oh. Whenever an American airman thinks, America gets weaker."

E-Man grimaced. "You're talking Air Force again. And I'm not an airman."

"Once an airman...Go ahead. What is it?"

"I was thinking back to the original Random case."

"Yeah?"

"Why were we even involved? That wasn't our thing. I figured there was some big-time officer crap that you knew about but just didn't tell me. You know, me being a lowly sergeant."

Jordan ignored E-Man dig at the officer corps. "Did I do that? Keep you out of the loop?"

"I don't know. Did you?"

Jordan tightened his jaw. Just when E-Man was being the adult in the room he switched on a dime to asshole mode. No time for that now. "It was way above my pay grade too. I always figured the military wanted to handle it internally – you know with Random killing the airmen in Germany."

"Still it never really figured. You said it yourself – this was more of an Office of Special Investigation thing."

More silence and more automotive undertones.

"I went by Robin's last night," Jordan said.

E-Man leaned against his seat belt and lifted his hands in frustration. "Yeah, I was wondering when you gonna get back to that. OK. OK. I'm sure you had a good reason for doing that."

"Not really. I just wanted to warn her."

E-Man whistled. "About the man she's currently with is a drug dealer working with an international criminal. All this coming from the man she used to be with and currently hates. Am I missing something?"

"No, that's pretty much it."

"Did you hit it?"

Jordan actually lost control of the car for a moment and nearly sideswiped a minivan. "Does it sound like I hit it?"

E-Man folded his arms. "You need to hit that. Just saying."

"Unbelievable."

~

They arrived at Henry Ford's Hospital. Jordan parked and raced through the entrance with E-Man in close pursuit. They stopped at the security desk. Jackie provided instructions to give them access to the tenth floor. With their new passes clicked to their jackets, Jordan and E-Man boarded the elevator.

The tenth-floor housed laboratories and other clinics, normally off limits to visitors. Jordan asked a nurse and was pointed in the direction of Dr. Jackie Myers. They found the room and Jordan pushed open the lab doors. Inside, Jackie bent over a microscope engrossed in whatever she was studying. She was unaware of her visitors until they stood right next to her. Jordan touched her lightly on the sleeve of her doctor's coat and the self-induced isolation was over.

She wobbled on her heels for a moment as they surprised her. "Jordan, hi!" She hugged him, then paused as she pulled away. Her eyes on his face longer than necessary. "There's something different about you today."

Jordan shrugged. "I had my Wheaties this morning."

"No, that's not it..."

"Hey, Jackie," E-Man greeted the doctor. Jackie's whole body language changed.

"Eric," she said. Her eyes closed to slits and she folded her arms around her chest. Jackie first met E-Man through Jordan while they all were in college. At that point in his life, E-Man was something of a ladies' man. Real love 'em and leave 'em type. She never warmed to him, even after his marriage to Akio. Jordan didn't recall anything directly between the two – he always imagined E-Man did something stupid like pinched her on the butt.

"What you got?" Jordan pushed through the brief interplay between Jackie and E-Man.

Jackie began to walk to a table across the room. Jordan and E-Man followed a step behind.

"Jordan, whoever made this stuff, he's a genius." She stopped at the table. "These chemicals he used, it's impossible to combine them in this fashion."

"But he did," Jordan said.

"I know. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"OK," Jordan said, "but he did it. So, how?"

Jackie smiled as if trying to fend off frustration. "I don't know," she said slowly and deliberately. "These chemicals are bounded on a molecular level. It's like he actually changed them into something else while he combined them to each other."

Jordan paused as he reflected on what Jackie had just said. But E-Man needed no such pause before he jumped in.

"That's crazy! When we busted Random in Florida, he had, like this erector-set that he put this shit together with. It wasn't nothing like this stuff." E-Man gestured to the equipment-laded lab. "How could he do molecular whatever with that stuff?"

Jackie sighed. "How should I know? I'm just telling you what I found. Maybe he was in the final stages of the process when you busted him. Maybe he had access to a more advance facility earlier." Jackie shot daggers at him. E-Man fended off the attack with palms out hands. Jordan found it strangely rewarding about seeing the normally unflappable Jackie all out of sorts with E-Man.

"Anyway, that's not the worse of it." She told Jordan. She pushed pass E-Man to get to a table behind them. Four small square items with sheets atop them set on the table. She lifted the sheets off two of the boxes in a swift motion, revealing a pair of cages with a white lab mouse in each, apparently dead.

"As you may know, mice have genetic codes similar to ours. That's why we use them in experiments..."

"OK," Jordan said.

"Well, I injected each of these mice with a small dose of this crush." She gestured at the left most cage, "This one, I injected six hours ago. And this one," she said, pointing at the next mouse, "two hours after that."

"They're dead?" E-Man asked.

"Yes." She gave him a slow look. Jackie removed the third cage's sheet. Inside, another mouse, not dead, but on its back, it's tiny chest heaving rapidly.

"Not dead, but close," Jordan said.

Jackie gave Jordan a smile. "You are a detective." she teased him. The process of scientific discovery always excited her. She seemed happy, as long as she wasn't talking to E-Man.

"I injected him an hour ago. And the last one..." Jackie pulled away the final sheet and as the first beam of light entered, the mouse inside leapt for the bars of the tiny cell. It bit at its prison as if it had a chance of escaping. Jordan leaned forward for a closer look. The mouse's teeth were actually chipped and broken from biting the cage so hard.

"Jesus," E-Man said, "feisty sucker, huh?"

"Withdrawals from an instant addiction." Jackie said. "He got his dose just after I called you."

Jordan and Jackie locked eyes. He read her mind. "These are the same effects you'd expected in humans?"

Jackie slid her hands into her coat pockets. "Well, I can't be one hundred percent sure, but that's a reasonable assumption."

"Huh?" E-Man said, "What kind of drug dealer would make a drug that would kill all his customers after one hit?

"A drug dealer that doesn't care about profits," Jackie said.

"There's no such animal."

"Who said we're dealing with a drug dealer," Jordan said. He turned to E-Man. The case had just grown into something more than just money. As if on cue, the fourth mouse, squeaked and fell onto its back.

"Damn," E-Man said. "This thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

Jordan and E-Man strolled down the hall to the elevators. They kept their voices low as not to panic anyone who might hear them.

Jordan said, "This is stupid. Why make a drug that just kills its users?"

"Where's the money in that?" E-Man asked back. They got to the elevators and E-Man pressed the call button.

"There is none," Jordan said. He was silent for a moment, hand to chin. "OK, let's assume that Random's not in it for the money..."

"Alright, then why? Revenge?"

Jordan had considered that. "No, he was working on this back in Miami. Before I capped his brother. So, no, not revenge."

E-Man shook his head. "Damn, he's been working on this for over four years. But money's not the thing, shit, then what the hell is?

Jordan leaned forward. "There's got to be someone else. Someone Random gonna sell this to – that's why he needs Kevin Small."

" 'Lright," E-Man said, "Small was supposed to hook up Random with someone who would buy the drugs, but...Nah, that's not it."

"What?" Jordan asked. The elevator dinged, announcing the arrival of the car. A group of passengers got off as E-Man explained.

"Only people that Small could hook Random to would be drug dealers, right? Why would dealers want a drug that couldn't make them any money?"

The idea stuck in Jordan's mind. He sleepwalked onto the elevator as he considered it. "Yeah, that follows. But what if -"

He stopped. Jordan's eyes followed two of the passengers who had just disembarked. It was a pair of men, dressed in long ragged coats. Cowboy dusters. Jordan didn't initially pay them any mind but...now there was something... The pair headed down the hall, the same direction he and E-Man just came.

"What? What is it?" E-Man asked.

Jordan shook his head, and then craned his neck for a better look.

"Nothing," Jordan said. "I thought -" Just then the doors closed and the car began to move. The two men tickled Jordan's memory. He murmured to himself, as he tried to work it out.

"You OK?" E-Man asked chuckling a little. "You starting to freak me out."

"Shit!" Jordan said. The dusters? No doctor would wear anything like that. And the tenth floor was off limits to the general public. The elevator was just passing the eighth floor. Jordan stabbed the seventh floor button. The doors open and he leapt off. E-Man was a step behind.

"What is it?" E-Man asked Jordan's retreating form.

"Those guys," Jordan said as he burst through the stairway door. "They're with Random!"

Jordan drew his P7M as he approached the lab. He kicked the door and automatically assumed a Weaver stance. E-Man appeared and went into a crouched position. One of the cowboys had Jackie at knifepoint while his partner searched the room. They both whirled to the door as Jordan and E-Man entered.

"Here's what it is - put that knife down," Jordan said, "or I will blow your goddamned head off."

"What you looking at?" E-Man asked the other goon.

Cowboy #1 slid behind Jackie, knife now at her throat. He had a huge slash down the side of his face. The same guy from the warehouse. Slash. How original. "Are you that good a shot?"

"Wanna find out?" Jordan asked.

"No," Slash said without a hint of fear, "I don't think you want to either."

Jordan's expression didn't change. The ugly bastard was right, though – he wasn't interested in testing his marksmanship at this moment. It was a Mexican standoff, with Jackie's life in the balance.

This is what we call a fucked up situation. Without looking at his partner still crouched in the doorway, he asked, "Asshole number 2?"

"Got him," E-Man got up and circled towards the second criminal. A table separated them. E-Man's eyes were locked on his target. There was no trace of the humorous lighthearted man. "Say the word and boom," - the criminal jumped - "pop goes the weasel."

Jordan nodded. "This is going to end badly for you. Now back away from my friend, or you're dead."

Slash pulled Jackie tightly to him, producing a small gasp from her. "No! This is how it's going to go. You give us what we want and I'll think about letting this bitch go."

Jordan shook his head. "Now why you want to go and call her a 'bitch' for? Besides, what do you want anyway?"

"Don't fuck with me," Slash said, "You know good and well what I want. Get it – Now! Or this spade dies!"

Jordan flinched ever so slightly. Mental note: Kill this fool at first chance.

But the chance wasn't now and he knew it. His eyes still on the target, he said to Jackie, "Give him the vial."

"Jordan, no -" Jackie started to protest. Jordan's eyes went to hers for a second. She gasped. He hoped whatever she saw in his eyes she would be able to forget. She nodded and pointed at a nearby drawer.

"It's in there," she said, fearlessly.

Slash threw open the drawer with his free hand and retrieved the vial containing the remaining crush. His eyes darted from the vial to the two men pointing guns at him. E-Man maintained his hold on the other criminal, who in turn, had remained motionless. Slash rolled the vial around in his hand. Satisfied that it was what he wanted, he slid it into his pocket. His eyes went back to Jordan.

"Well, I guess you spade can do what you're told."

"Ain't gonna be too many more of those 'spades'," Jordan said. "Now what?"

Slash switch his grip to Jackie's arm while he continued to press the knife to her throat. "We're leaving. Now, get the fuck away from the door." Slash turned to his partner. "Bubba, we're going."

"Bubba?" E-man said. A laugh caught in his throat.

"E-Man..." Jordan said. They still had Jackie.

Jordan and E-Man rotated in a counter-clock wise fashion away from the door. Slash and Bubba moved likewise to the door. Slash got to the door first. Seconds after he backed out of the room, Bubba followed. Jordan and E-Man made their way to the door. By the time they got there, paranoia had broken out in the hall. The hospital hallway was filled with doctors and nurses. This was normal. Knife-wielding madmen weren't. Jordan and E-Man entered the scene, guns drawn and the confusion grew. Slash and Bubba had backed up to the elevators. Bubba pushed the call button. Jordan was locked on Slash. If anything happen, if there was a single second where he could fire and hit Slash, Jordan would surely shoot. He tried not to think of Jackie. Tried not to even look at her. He might lose his nerve, and in a situation like this, even for a second, it could mean the difference between life and death. No, focus on Slash - focus on the target. In his mind, Jordan changed the situation into a training scenario. The purpose of the exercise was to put the target down That's all. Jordan had no problem thinking of Slash as just a target. Just keep one of his best friends out of it and no problem. Slash looked back at Jordan without a trace of fear. He was sure he was in control of this situation. Jordan couldn't wait to prove him wrong.

Ding.

The elevator arrived, and Bubba literally leapt on. Unlike Slash, he was visibly nervous about looking down the business end of a semi-automatic weapon. After his partner boarded the car, Slash worked his way on, Jackie still in tow. Jordan knew if he got on the car with Jackie, the situation would get a thousand times worse. He definitely wanted to keep her in sight. Slash stopped right at the door.

"Just so you don't follow me...spade."

And with that, Slash brought the knife swiftly across Jackie's neck.

Chapter Sixteen: A Violent Day at the Hospital

"No!"

Jordan sprinted to Jackie as she dropped. He caught her before she reached the floor. The elevator doors closed. He fumbled with his P7M to get off a shot but was too late.

"Damn!"

"I'm on it!" E-Man shouted behind Jordan and burst through the stairway doors. A part of Jordan heard him – a part not in control at the moment. He quickly examined Jackie's wound. Her neck was covered in blood. Jordan slapped his hand to the general area where she had been cut.

"Jack!"

Jackie's eyes popped open. Her head bobbled for a second, and then she seemed to gain focus. She turned to Jordan and gripped his arm. He was sure he was looking at a ghost.

"I-I'm fine," Jackie said, "It wasn't that deep."

He removed his hand from her neck. There was blood everywhere but the bleeding itself stopped. Jordan gave a short laugh, unable to express his relief any other way.

Jackie then reach and cupped his chin with her hand, "I'm fine, Jordan. Go after them."

For the first time, Jordan noticed the doctors, jockeying to get in position to help Jackie, surrounding him. He was in the way and moved back. As the doctors converged, Jordan called to his friend, "Be right back, Jack."

~

E-Man calculated the rate he went down the stairs. He would beat the elevator to the ground floor easily. For the first five floors down, he was right. By the time he hit the fourth floor, it was a different story. His chest started to heave and his legs burn. His breath became more labored.

I got to hit the gym more.

He regulated his breathing. Concentrated on his motion, nothing wasted – arms and legs pumping like a machine. Just like the Combat Controllers trained him all those years ago. The one thing the military did right. They could screw up everything else, but damn if they couldn't train like hell!

I'll still beat them.

E-Man was determined to stop these two. Despite what Jordan may have thought, it was E-Man's case too. And he also would like to see it put behind him. Sure, Jordan had some personal interest with Robin being involved and all, but that didn't mean E-Man, and for that matter, Don and Malcolm, didn't want this case solved.

He reached the ground floor. Swallowed in a lungful of air and drew his Px4 Storm. A pause, and he kicked open the door. He was in the emergency room lobby. As he scanned the room, he felt a burning sensation across his chest. He dropped and rolled to his left. The pain rose at a steady pace and it set his teeth on edge. It was all he could do to hold back a scream. He looked down at his chest. Blood – a lot of it. His tie had been split and the front of his shirt and open jacket were red. Around him, half the occupants bolted for the doors, the other half took pictures with their cellphones.

From behind a column, Slash came, knife at the ready to cut E-Man again. He swooped down on him. He was expecting a helpless opponent, instead got a kick in his guts. He tumbled over, head over heels.

E-Man bounced to his feet. "Let's do this, son!"

He sensed an attack from the rear and swatted away another knife strike. He struck the wrist of his new attacker and a fixed blade went flying. He stretched to look over his shoulder. Bubba caught him in a bear hug.

"Oh, you want some, too, huh?" E-Man said. He twisted and elbow smashed Bubba's nose. With a whirl of his duster, Bubba was dislodged. E-Man got to his feet and fixed his gun on Slash. He started to issue a command for Slash to freeze. His aim waivered and a rush of unsteadiness came over him. He looked at his chest - a lot more blood was present. The Px4 Storm flew out of his hand. E-Man thought he was the victim of magic until he saw Slash to his side. He got his act together as Slash advanced with a seven inch prison shiv. He dodged each attack. Despite the pain in his chest, he couldn't help but smile.

I still got it.

Slash swung and got off-balance for a moment. E-Man grabbed Slash's arm and pulled him forward. He brought his knee into Slash's chest. E-Man went to finish him off, then Bubba attacked again. E-Man staggered into a nearby wall. This was getting old. It was time to put this Bubba down for good. He released a short sharp blow to Bubba's nose. He followed up with a rabbit punch to the stomach. Bubba stumbled. E-Man launched himself at his fallen gun. He hit the floor hard, scooped up the gun, spun at Bubba - but, no Bubba.

He looked right and saw Slash half carrying, half dragging Bubba out the door. E-Man aimed for a shot but his world went blurry. He couldn't hold his gun up.

~

Jordan entered the lobby into another scene of panic and mayhem. The sound level was maxed out on screaming people. Doctors tried to control the situation. Cellphones reached out to 911 or recorded the moment. Jordan found his partner at the center of this chaos, lying in a pool of blood. He slid to his knees to E-Man's side.

"E-Man! Are you -"

"I'm fine!" E-Man worked his way to his knees with Jordan's help. "Go after them – they still have the crush!" E-Man turned his head and Jordan tracked along the same direction. Slash and his partner raced through glass doors into the parking lot. From the way they moved, they got more than a slight ass whipping from E-Man. It was the hardest thing for him to do, but Jordan had to leave his friend. If Slash got to his vehicle and got the crush to Random – it would be bad.

Jordan got to his feet and sprinted for the door. Slash and Bubba had made it outside and were almost to the parking lot. Jordan fired his P7M. The usual thunder sounded, putting the lobby into an even greater sense of panic. The bullet pierced the glass door and frosted it. He jumped through the weaken glass. Shards went everywhere. Shaking off the particles of glass, Jordan saw his targets weaving in and out of the parked cars. He went for another shot, but they were too far away with people thrown in for good measure. He watched them reached their destination, a SUV – A big ass black Chevy Suburban - about thirty yards away across the parking lot. Jordan could hear the engine strain as it sped to the Grand Boulevard exit. Afternoon lunch traffic filled the boulevard, making it difficult for the Suburban to get to full speed.

Jordan smiled. He jogged to his car, which was in the first row of the parking lot. He jumped in and started it. All five hundred horses at his command came alive with an animal-like roar at the turn of the ignition.

"Oh, yeah."
Chapter Seventeen: The Chase

Once out of the parking lot, Jordan dodged in and out of traffic like it was standing still. He got some horn honks and screams for his trouble but soon he was on the bumper of his target.

He shook his head in disbelief. From out of the passenger window, an arm with a gun appeared. He didn't think anyone actually shot at moving vehicles other than TV. It wasn't as easy as it looked. A series of bullets flew, and his car was hit only once, on the roof. The worst thing that happened was the paint job was messed up. Jordan had long ago had the Vette bulletproofed. It was good to have friends in the government who knew about such things.

Jordan didn't want to endanger other people on the streets, just because Bubba and Slash thought they were in an action movie. He backed off enough so no shot presented itself to his query. The gunman disappeared back in the car just as the vehicle sped up. The Suburban dodged between a couple of slow moving cars in an attempt to lose its pursuer. It failed as Jordan's years of military training allowed him to easily stay a few seconds behind. Combat driving, as it is called, is a skill not soon forgotten.

The Suburban fast approached Grand River, a main artery. Jordan hoped the pair would continue on Grand Boulevard. It was a tighter street and would have fewer opportunities for the SUV to weave in and out. Jordan whispered a silent prayer as the SUV neared the wide street. But the god of private detectives had other plans as the vehicle made a right and zoomed onto Grand River. The big vehicle lumbered across three lanes and into oncoming traffic. Angry horns sounded as the truck-like thing dodged its way back to its side of the street. Jordan approached the intersection and with the precision of an expert driver, slipped into traffic without so much as a tire squeal.

Once, in a bygone age, Grand River in the afternoon would have been bumper to bumper traffic. Now it was the automotive equivalent of a ghost town. Everybody used the freeways if they were moving through Detroit. That made things easier, but there was still Livernois – another main street fast approaching. If they got to it on a green light, everything would be cool. If not, well, there was bound to be some traffic meeting them. It was too late to do anything. Jordan was committed. No way he let these two get away. Not with the crush. Not after what they did to E-Man. And Jackie. No way.

Desperation must have set in and the Suburban passenger took more shots. Again, the bullets bounced harmlessly off the pavement.

Jordan's plan was to just follow the Suburban. No way a corvette, no matter how modified was going to force this tank off the road. Beside, like gunplay in moving cars, that sort of thing only happened in the movies. Jordan's chief concern was innocent motorists. The biggest danger was hitting someone not involved in the chase.

Livernois approached. Jordan looked pass the Suburban. Green light! Good. Now he had more time to think of a way to end this chase. The SUV sped through the intersection – the Vette, a second behind. Jordan dropped the car into fourth to coax some more RPMs out of the engine. He was just about to mash down the gas when a car crossed into the intersection from out of nowhere.

Brake!

Jordan turned the wheel hard and put the Vette into a spin. He clenched his teeth - nothing else to do. It was in God's hands now. Either he'd hit the car or he wouldn't. The tires screamed in protest and stopped.

He opened his eyes and, amazingly, both he and the car were in one piece. The silence after the wailing tires was eerie. His heartbeat played at a mad pace in his ear. He looked through his window and into the window of the car he just missed. The SUV sped away. No way he could catch them now.

Jordan's corvette had come to a stop facing north on Livernois, while the car he had nearly collided with was nosed southward. He looked to see whom he had nearly killed. Surprised was too mild a word to described the emotion as he saw Special Agents Tom Stiles and William Thomas of the Central Intelligence Agency.

The adrenaline fueling Jordan's speedy pursuit instantly turned into anger. He leapt from his car as the two agents did likewise.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jordan shouted as he approached Stiles. William Thomas stepped in Jordan's path to stop him.

"Hey, pal," Thomas said, "take it -"

The black agent never got a chance to finish his sentence as Jordan, without breaking stride, executed a judo move and put Thomas on his backside.

"Well?" Jordan asked, now in Stiles' face. The veteran CIA man was like stone. No concern, no anger – just an unnerving calm. Jordan stayed nose to nose, eye-to-eye with Stiles right in the middle of Grand River and Livernois.

"I told you," Stiles gravel voice said, "not to get involve with this. This is a government matter."

"That's bullshit!" Jordan said. "Why don't you just come out with it? What the hell is the C I fucking A doing being involved with a domestic issue? Does this have to do with the fact that Random use to work for you?"

That got a reaction out of Stiles. His eyes narrowed and he drew back a fist. He stopped in mid-swing. "Dammit, Noble! Have you lost your fucking mind? Didn't the Air Force teach you anything about sensitive information? I can't believe all those years in Defense Intelligence didn't make you any smarter than this!" Stiles looked around but no one was close enough to hear them, except for Thomas who was picking himself off the ground. Drivers begun to make their way around the knot of cars in the middle of the intersection. None of the cars could decide who went first.

"Look," Stiles said, "don't let the fact that Random's pal, Small is screwing your ex-girlfriend cloud your judgment." Jordan flinched a little. He leaned in and Stiles met him halfway. "Jesus, man. Be a goddamn professional for one second. What the hell are you doing? Burning down buildings? Gunfights in the middle of crowds? And in a damn hospital? What? You didn't think we figure out it was you?"

"We didn't set that fire," Jordan said. He felt the shakes coming on, now the excitement was over.

"Do you really think I give a shit?" Stiles shouted. "Think with your head and not your dick for a second. I mean, for God's sake, look around!" Stiles waved his hand to the traffic snarled to halt since their near collision. Jordan was silent and more than a little embarrassed. When put all together, Jordan's actions did seem insane. Here he was a licensed private detective, former military intelligence officer, causing havoc and hell all over the city just to catch Cody Random. It wasn't his job, was it? Hell, he didn't even have a client. Could this mayhem be contributed to an over inflated sense of justice. Or was it the personal issues? The fact that Cody Random was an old case and out now spreading murder and violence? Or was Stiles right? Was it the fact Kevin Small was intimate with Robin? The woman Jordan loved and still loved after all these years. Jordan couldn't honestly answer. He was embarrassed and anger Stiles said these things to him. He knew whatever he said would just be an attempt to project that anger and would only make matters worse. All said, it didn't mean he had to answer to the CIA. His response to Stiles was unyielding silence.

Stiles said, "Look, get out of here. There are matters that you just don't know about. Yes, it involves Random's former, and I stress, former, association with us. Let it go, Noble. You're going to get into trouble."

Stiles walked around his car to the passenger side. As he got in, he said, "Get out of here, before the cops arrive."

Thomas bumped Jordan as he got back into the driver's seat, Jordan watched them both as they drove away in the same direction down Grand River the Suburban vanished. Jordan wanted desperately to hate them - to blame them for all this mess. But, he couldn't. He wasn't sure Stiles wasn't wrong. Jordan became aware of the fact that he was blocking traffic and horns screaming at him. Drivers angled around the Vette and more than one gave Jordan the finger. He sighed, defeated. He got back in the car and headed back to the hospital to check on his friends.

Chapter Eighteen: A Cold, Dark Place

Robin scanned the restaurant, searching for Kevin Small. He was late. She couldn't understand why. He knew how important this date was. After the disaster at the Cobo Center, Robin felt less than secure about their new business, Unlimiteds. They needed the revenue the show was supposed to generate. They needed the exposure. And now, nothing good could come from an association with the show. The Detroit News had already splashed it across the front page. Every local news program was going on about the 'chilling effect' the disturbance was having on Southeast Michigan clothing industry. Twitter, Facebook and Instagram got in on the act. All this was true. Detroit was no New York when it came to fashion. This was going to be a much-needed break to put them on the map. The Fashion Gala wasn't a cheap affair. And now, it was all ruined. Thanks to Jordan Noble.

Of course, Jordan's involvement only made Robin more uncomfortable. Since their breakup, she had been very lucky as to not cross paths with him. For years, it was easy. Jordan was in the military, doing God knows what, God knows where. Admittedly, in the beginning, when she would go somewhere they had been together and feel a pang of panic. She'd wonder if he would pop up. As the years passed, the feeling faded. Loneliness came next. It visited her in the dead of night when she was weakest.

Jordan was her first true love, and though she would never admit this, she had never forgotten him. And, more to the point, never met anyone like him. She often attributed his manners and ways to the innocence of youth, still, she never felt the same with any other man. She had always felt safe. Now, after all the years, she really couldn't remember why they broke up...something to do with his career. Going to – what was the name of that place? Minot? Nevertheless, she held on to the hatred she felt. The hurt. The pain. It was better than remembering the good times. That would only lead to missing him: followed by the loneliness. And it would start all over again.

Now, he was back - surrounded by a storm of mystery, confusion and chaos. She remembered thinking as she first saw him. 'How does my hair look?'

Dammit, I'm such an idiot!

She hated herself. Especially considering all that happen since then. Gunfights. Unannounced visits. Why couldn't she have met him again under normal circumstances? At a restaurant. The movies.

Oh, look. It's Jordan. Hi. How've you been? You look good. Well, see you around.

But no. With Jordan, it's all drama. The wild, wild west. And if it had been a normal meeting, then what? Would those old feelings rush to the surface? Would, Well, see you around been followed by, Here's my number. Call me sometime. She really wanted to say it wouldn't happen. She had a man. But, deep down in her heart of hearts, she didn't know.

That's why she needed Kevin, right now. To remind her of what they had. To be a couple – have lunch, go home and submit to all his desires. To make her forget about Jordan Noble.

But he was late. Robin checked her Movado Edge watch again. It was now forty minutes late. OK, that was enough. It was time to leave. Before Robin could get up, her waiter approached.

"Ms. Summers?"

"Yes." Robin smiled back.

"Your party, a Mr. Small, just called." The young waiter was trying to sound professional. It was a French restaurant in northern Royal Oak. A part of town always fancying itself as cosmopolitan and chic but they were only one or two generations from working class stiffs. "He mentioned that he was investigating your recovery. He said you'd know what that meant."

Robin nodded. That made sense. Kevin Small was no doubt working on something, or with someone to recover from the Fashion Gala disaster. She only wished he had told her earlier so that she could be involved. Why didn't he just call her? She looked at her phone – no bars.

Shit. She smiled graciously at her waiter, thanked him and announced that she was ready to order. As she ate, she could not help but wonder what Kevin was up to. She was glad he was doing something, but she didn't like being left out. She could call...but no. She would find out soon enough.

After lunch, she returned to her car in a structure across the street from the restaurant. She took an elevator to her level. The floor was shaded from the afternoon sun. The August air blowing in was cool and gave Robin a chill. She felt goose bumps travel down her arms. She probably shouldn't have left her sweater in the car, but she wanted to look cute for Kevin in her short sleeve pink top. She quickened her stride to get to the car. The deck was empty and her heels clicked. She heard something else, an echo. She stopped and for a split second too long she heard echoes. She looked around and saw nothing. She was alone yet she heard something. She blew it off. She was being silly. Nothing was here. Nothing to get excited about. She continued - her car now in sight. The sound again, coming from where? Was it footsteps? How could that be - no one was in sight. She panicked and went into a run. Was she being silly? Who cares? It was time to get out of this place with its cold air and strange noises. She reached the car. Nervous, she fumbled for the right key.

Come on, come on!

She dropped her keys and swore. Her heartbeat sped to a ridiculous pace. She knelt down - the keys had not fallen under the car. She picked them up. This time she had the ignition key pinched between her fingers. She stood and was seconds away from getting in the car and safety. She focused on pressing the car fob with frightening intensity. Something grasped her by the waist and mouth, pinning her arms and silencing her at the same time. She tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth turned it into a muffled whisper. She struggled for freedom, but something was making her lightheaded. Something on her mouth. A smell making her sleepy. She felt as though she was floating in darkness outside her body. She had time for one thought, a thought coming unwillingly to mind.

Jordan...

Then all was silent, dark and cool.

~

Jackie admitted E-Man into the hospital after she had recovered from her ordeal. It turned out Jackie's injuries were not bad and she simply fainted from shock. For a guy named 'Slash', one would think he'd be better with a knife. He completely missed Jackie's veins or arteries.

E-Man on the other hand was a different story. He had to have stitches and required an overnight stay. But he would have none of that. He allowed Jackie to patch him up but then he would be on his way.

"That mutha fucker stabbed me, Noble," E-Man said, "You know I'm getting his ass!"

It took both Jordan and Jackie to convince E-Man to rest in a hospital bed.

"Alright," E-Man said, "Maybe a couple of hours. But then, it's on."

"Fine, E," Jordan said, "Whatever you say." E-Man was wheeled off from Emergency to a semi-private room.

Jordan turned to Jackie to ask about E-Man's condition. His eyes clouded over with pain at the sight of the huge bandage at her neck. But, no pity – no self-doubt. Just an overwhelming need to kick the ass of Slash, Cody and anyone around them.

He liked it.

Jackie put a hand to Jordan's cheek. Just as quickly, she removed it as if being aware such personal behavior had no place in her professional world. Jordan liked that, too. Jackie was one of his best friends but her always being in control got on his nerves.

His strange sixth sense took a hold of him and he whirled his head. At the emergency room's entrance, Stiles stood. Like the ghost CIA punks thought they were, he disappeared.

"You OK?" Jackie asked. "You look a million miles away."

"Yeah, yeah." Jordan returned to her eyes. "But I gotta go."

She sighed. "Just be careful." Jordan was about to cut wise, when he got a look at her eyes. Something was there – something besides 'friendly' concern.

"Sure, Jack."

~

It was a few hours after the gunfight and a sense of normalcy had returned. Jordan had already talked to the police and was not taken into custody. He wouldn't have spoken to the police at all if E-Man hadn't needed medical attention. He wasn't about to abandon his friend. Of course, Jordan left out the whole scene on Grand River and Livernois.

Jordan left the lobby and went to the stairs leading from the main doors to the parking lot. A pair of repair men placed a wooden panel at the window Jordan shot through earlier. Leaning against the far wall was Agent Stiles.

"Knew you come," Stiles said, shaking out a cigarette. He looked every part the secret agent. Dark suit. Sunglasses. Even his face had a mysterious air to it. Deep lines and leathery tanned skin told a story of a man who been to far exotic places and done things never to be told. Beneath his shades, his eyes, tired and worn from seeing those things, knowing too many secrets.

Jordan was unimpressed. He wasn't busting the James Bond image – still, his kakis, T-shirt and A2 jacket carried enough of the 'been there, done that' look. Maybe not as long as Stiles but he knew the life and burdens of a spy.

"Where's Thomas?" Jordan asked.

"He's around," Stiles said without looking at Jordan. "He's somewhere with a high-powered rifle to keep you from repeating your stunt from earlier today." Jordan got a smile out of the judo move he put on Thomas. He scanned the parking lot as much as he could without looking like he was scanning it. He didn't want Stiles to know he had the upper hand. Unable to find Thomas, Jordan comforted himself with the fact he had no intention on repeating his 'stunt' and therefore no reason for Thomas to discharge his high-powered rifle.

"You probably want to know what's going on," Stiles said, "and I'm going to tell you. Not because you deserve it. Just so you understand the scope of the situation."

Stiles turned and stared at Jordan under his sunglasses. Jordan was still unimpressed. Huge 'scope' didn't concern him. He had been involved with his share of enormous things. If Stiles thought he was going to impress Jordan out of the picture, he had another thing coming.

"Go on."

"This goes back to when Random was working for us. The Company." 'The Company' was the way the CIA referred to itself. "You know he was doing some chemistry work for us. Back when you were sent to capture him."

"Yeah," Jordan said, "Except he wasn't doing what he was supposed to. He was making drugs."

"We know. Don't be so blind, Noble. Random had a talent and we used it. He was good at making explosives, but better at making drugs. So, we capitalized on it."

"What?" Jordan wasn't expecting that.

Stiles ignored Jordan's outburst. "He provided a service we needed. We could get explosives anywhere. But the drugs he was concocting, man, that was something. It's like this. Since the Cold War ended, the good ole days of 'us' vs. 'them' were over. Once upon a time, all we had to worry about was the Soviets. Now, everybody wants to play. China, North Korea, Iraq, Iran...hell, Apple's got an intelligence branch. There was a lot more players on the board. Loyalty could be split a lot of ways. Politics, religion, not to mention, good ole self-interest. We in the spy game found it hard to keep our contacts on our side. That's where Random's little potion came into play."

"How?" Jordan asked. "We tested it. One use kills. What good is that? And what did you have planned? Turning your informants into junkies? Why do that? How could you trust them?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, well that's the thing. Random's crush, in its pure form has those effects. It does have, after all, cocaine as its base. It's also based on something else, a truth serum. One of ours. The cocaine is there to get the user hooked, not high. Imagine an informant hooked on your truth serum." Stiles laugh slightly, "He'd have to come back and he always told you the truth. Pretty handy, huh?"

Stiles paused and took a drag of his cigarette. He allowed his words to sink in. Jordan nodded as he considered what Stiles had told him.

"OK," Jordan said after a few seconds, "I can see that. Probably violates a dozen different international agreements, but I see what you're doing." Jordan paused. "So, what happen? Why did Random go off the ranch?"

Stiles took one last, long hit on his cigarette and then flicked the butt into space.

"Money, pure and simple. Random found out that he could get rich off his drug and took off. In not so strong a dose, Crush can make cocaine look like a sugar high. The truth serum makes a person relax, feel more cooperative. You know that. Combined with coke, man, that's a rush."

"Yeah, sure. Well if this stuff was so potent and so useful to 'intelligence' not to mention a money-maker, why'd you let Random rot in prison for six years."

Stiles smiled. "Once Random killed that airman in German and you arrested him in Miami, he was too hot to touch. Everything he did for us was classified. We couldn't just spring him out of jail. That's the way it goes sometimes. Hey, we survived."

"That's why we got involved," Jordan said. "To create a distance from the Company and Random."

Stiles nodded. "He had to be removed from the board. And while the DIA didn't usually go after drug dealers. Since he capped an airman, there was a reason for you to go after him."

Jordan narrowed his eyes. He couldn't believe the callousness of Stiles. He capped an airman? Jordan blew out a long breath. Stiles was probably trying to upset him. He let it go. "And now?"

Stiles started down the steps heading for the parking lot. "Now, we make Random disappear. Look, his crush is cool. Can't say we wouldn't like it. But the biggest issue? He's connected to us. Can't have him walking the streets, talking out of school."

Mistrust on his face, Jordan turned to face the CIA man. "No loose ends, right?"

Stiles bounced a shoulder.

"And the money, the money made by turning crush into the next cocaine? You guys just forget about that?"

Stiles sighed. He lowered and shook his head. "Noble, we don't care about that. The Company's got more important things to do than to make some nickels and dimes off of the street corners of America. If we want some money, believe me, we can get some money."

That part, Jordan did believe, but he still had doubts.

"So, who's behind this? Who is Random and Small working with?"

Stiles gestured. From the far side of the parking lot, a car, the same car Jordan had almost hit earlier, pulled up. Agent Thomas was driving. He pulled up to the entrance of the hospital as Stiles went around to the passenger side.

"I don't know," Stiles said. "It doesn't matter. We'll find him. We'll catch him."

"You'll kill him."

Stiles paused and added with a tone of seriousness, "If it comes to that. Look, I need you out of the way. This is not your affair. Stay out of it. I won't ask again." Stiles got in the car. Thomas pulled off, but not before giving Jordan one last dirty look. He watched them pull off. He still wasn't sure if Stiles was wrong. Maybe he should back off, swallow his pride and let the professionals handle this. Still, what about Robin? Could he just stand back and let her take her chances? And if he didn't, did he have the right to get E-Man and the others involved in a matter that was purely personal?

The sun sank into the west. The streetlights started to twinkle on. If an answer to Jordan's troubled mind was to be had, the darkening sky didn't give it to him.

Chapter Nineteen: Point of No Return

Guilt is a lousy companion and it stuck with Kevin Small all day. It burned like acid deep in his gut. The waiting was the worse. He didn't know exactly what Random had planned – only that it was going down today. Every person in the office, every casual glance became an accusation. The phone rang and it was like thunder to him. He jumped and made a sound that could be described as yip. He knew who it was and what he wanted. Fear clutched his heart as he picked the phone up from its cradle.

"Hello?"

"I need you here," Random said.

Small felt the air leave his lungs. "Why? I thought you didn't need me for this -"

"The situation has changed," Random's voice was the crack of a whip. "Come here immediately."

The line went dead. Small sat for a moment with the dial tone playing in his ear. He looked around the office. Through his window he could see the other employees going about their business. He had an odd sense of the surreal. The whole world was just doing what they always do, and he was involved in a plot to kidnap his girlfriend.

He didn't like this plan, not one bit. It wasn't so much he was upset about something happening to Robin. Random had hit that point square on. Small wasn't really in love with Robin. Sure, he liked her and she was good in bed, but, he had no intention of spending the rest of his life with her. He was sure she didn't know, but that was her problem. No, she was definitely short-term. Robin would never go along with his plans to renew his criminal life. And she was still hung up on Jordan, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

But, still, kidnapping? Who was he kidding, if Random was going to kidnap her, he was going to kill her. Random had given him a choice: Stay with him or go. Staying with Random meant Small must go along with this kidnapping plan. Random was sure that would keep the bothersome Jordan Noble out of their hair until they could complete the transaction. To go meant that Robin would live, but Random would probably kill him. He knew too much and was in too deep. He had seen all the major players, except one. The person Random called the benefactor. So, he agreed to the kidnapping as an act of self-preservation. Again, he wasn't really in love with Robin...

He put on a black jacket made from some stretch material over a blue shirt. He exited his office. In the outer office, just standing in the center of the room, was a man he had never seen before. One look, however, and Small knew he was one of Random's men. Dead, loveless eyes. A graying shadow of a beard hanging on his face, the man looked like something out of a cowboy movie with the long tan duster he wore.

"You're wanted," the man said, "Come with me." Small followed him to an alley at the rear of Unlimiteds. They were only there for a second when a Volvo pulled up.

"Get in," the driver said. He sported a duster as well. Was it a kind of uniform or a means to hide something under its folds – Small couldn't tell. He and his escort got in the back seat. The car dropped into gear and motored off.

They headed toward the city. The scenery changed from brick front shops and condo parks to houses losing their bricks to looters and grassless parks. The pit in Small's stomach grew. The view outside was just as dreary as his memories. Random told him the night before to somehow get Robin out of Unlimiteds and he would grab her. Small set up a late lunch date with Robin at her favorite French restaurant. She would come running, he knew. After that, all he had to do was make up an excuse, something came up – a new investor or something to recover from the fiasco of the Fashion Gala. Random would do whatever it is he does.

Small glanced down at his Rolex Cellini. Random had to be done with his end of the business by now. So, what did he want? Maybe something went wrong. Maybe Robin escaped and the cops were coming down on all of them. Small released a sigh. The Duster next to him chuckled through his teeth. Small didn't care what this nobody thought. He did care about where they were headed.

The Volvo took the Chrysler Freeway down to Grand Boulevard. They followed the wide curvy street for a few miles, before making a left on Vinewood. The neighborhood had seen better days, that was for sure. Young men who probably should have been in school populated the street. They either walked aimlessly down the sidewalk or sat huddled on porches in groups of fives or sixes. The street ended in a cul-de-sac. The Volvo stopped in front of the only house that appeared occupied. It was an old two-family flat once a mansion for a lawyer or doctor.

Small got out of the Volvo and was greeted by Random on the front porch. He was in a surprisingly good mood. At least he didn't have on a duster, choosing instead a white cotton shirt with dark slacks. Sitting on a chair near the front door was Slash. The knifeman eyed Small like he was his next meal.

Random greeted Small as he came up the porch. "Kevin!" How are you my dear friend." He hugged Small and led him into the house. Six men sat around what was once a living room. They sat on upturned crates in a semi-circle. Each man looked at Small with sneers and tightened eyes. The room was in an incredible state of disrepair with no furniture and plaster falling from the ceiling and walls. A smell hanging in the air must have come from a decaying corpse. Sweat poured from Small's pores as he realized this was going to be the last place on earth he would see. Random cocked his head to one side to look at Small.

"You look troubled. What's wrong?" Random bodily turned him so they were face to face.

Small choked out a response. "You...you're going to..."

Random tilted his head further. He started to chuckle. "You thought that I was going to kill you?" An uncomfortable pause crept passed. Random threw his head back and laughed. The other men joined in. It went on for several seconds. Small stood still, not knowing whether he should laugh or run for his life. He felt his bowels weaken and feared he was going to wet himself. Random got his composure but tears were in his eyes.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Small," Random said, brushing away his tears. "The things you say. I'm afraid that you have been watching too many gangster movies. It is very bad for business to go around killing one's partner. Makes you somewhat untrustworthy."

Small stood searching for words. All he managed was a tiny unconvincing "Heh."

Random patted Small on the shoulder and continued deeper into the house. It was as dismal as the living room. Small tried to recover from his embarrassment. "I hope this house is what you need."

Random nodded. "The benefactor has fulfilled my needs expertly thus far. However," Random suddenly stopped. "you understand there are still some things I," he paused, smiled and when on. "we need to complete the transaction."

Small quickly nodded, eager to please Random, especially in the company of all his armed friends. "Everything is ready. The building is all set up and the equipment is in place."

"Good!" Random shouted as he began to move again. "And the meeting, it's ready for tomorrow?"

Small was a step behind, "Yes. It took some doing, I had to call in every favor, but the buyers will be there tomorrow at two o'clock."

Random stopped at the head of the stairs leading to the basement. "Tomorrow. Everything that we been working for will come to fruition." He grasped Small's shoulder and struck him with an intense stare. "Your sacrifices will not be in vain. You are going to be a very wealthy man. I don't forget my friends."

Random smiled and a wave of relief swept through Small's body. He relaxed for the first time since the phone call earlier. "Thank you, Cody. I..."

Random interrupted. "But there's one more thing we have to do." Small looked like a dog, confused at his master's command. Random waved his hand as if dismissing an errant fly and went down the steps. It may as well have been the gates to Hell to Small as he held his position. One look around at the company of armed men changed his thinking. He hurried behind Random.

Like the rest of the house, the basement was in bad shape. It smelled even worse than the first level, which was almost impossible. Small arrived downstairs and found more of Random's armed drones. The furniture consisted of a television and a couch looking like someone rescued it from a garbage pile. All of this faded into the background as Small focused on one object. He froze in his tracks and felt the touch of fear on his soul. Strapped to a chair, stripped to her underwear, was Robin Summers. She sat with her back to the stairs so she had not seen Small yet. He shot a look at Random, who was grinning devilishly. Random walked around to the front of Robin. She lifted her head to see who came into her field of vision. The air in the basement held a chill, still sweat rolled down her spine. She was in a basement surrounded by men of the lowest caliber. The sanctity of her body as well as her very life were in danger of being stolen at a moment's notice.

"Do not fear, my dear," Random said, "You are quite safe, for the moment. I am your host."

Robin spoke as if volume was at premium. "Who...who are you?'

Random smacked his forehead. "What a fool I am. I have not introduced myself." He bowed deeply. "Cody Random. Late of the Federal Correctional System, at your service."

Small tried to get a gauge of her reaction but from behind her all he could see was her head rearing back and shoulders rise.

Random nodded as if he understood her confusion. "Yes, you do not know me and have absolutely no notion of what I want with you."

She gave a little nod.

"Well, let's just say we have a mutual friend." Random smiled as Robin's head rocked to one side.

"J-Jordan?"

Random beamed with pride, like a teacher watching a student reach a conclusion on her own for the first time. "Exactly! Jordan Noble. I am sure he told you about the wicked man who has been troubling him of late? Particularly at the Fashion Gala? Yes, I am afraid that your former love was right about me. He was right about a great many things."

Robin cocked her head the other direction at the last comment. Random gestured and made a beckoning motion for Small to join him. Small wandered to a position next to him. Robin reeled as if she had been slapped to the face. All in all, it shouldn't have been a surprise. If Random was the drug dealer Jordan was talking about, then it shouldn't have surprised her Small was with him.

As she looked at her lover, Robin gasped. "Why?"

Small looked sheepish and even childish. He searched for words, as if he could 'break it gently'. "Sorry, babe. It was a lot of money. If it makes any difference, I never wanted this to happen."

Robin's sad features instantly transformed into anger. She kicked Small in the crouch with everything she had. He screamed and dropped like a stone. Random and his bunch roared with laughter.

"You son of a bitch!" Robin said. "How could you do this to me?" Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Small picked himself off the floor. He looked long and hard at her, albeit beyond the range of another kick.

In that moment, he just didn't care. This was his new world – Robin Summers just wasn't a part of it anymore. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Originally, he had hoped no harm would come to Robin but now he knew better. Maybe it didn't have to end in some dilapidated old house off the river, but at some point down the line he was going to have to choose between Robin and returning to dealing. And with all the money he could make, Robin was going to lose.

"It was a lot of money," Small said again. "Bye, baby."

Robin went into a cussing fit as Small walked off. Random came up to his side. The two men shared a look. They both knew they were on the same page. They understood only one option was left to them – Robin had to be taken out the picture. Small gave Random a nod. He was onboard. He was behind the plan one hundred percent.

"Well, he said the word with a sigh. "She's seen me. I guess we have to kill her now."

Random smiled with pride. He clamped his hand on Small's shoulder and led him upstairs.

"Not yet," Random said, "She has one use to us. She is insurance. Now..." Random gestured to one of his men who passed him a cell phone. Random dialed a number he got off the internet under 'Investigators'.

~

Jordan endured E-Man's complaints and vows of vengeance all the way back to the office. He wished he gave more thought to leaving E-Man in the hospital. As long as E-Man could walk and function, he would want to be a part of this case. His bruised ego would carry him further than a sense of civic duty. Turnabout was fair play, given all the complaining Jordan had done since the start of this case. He could put up with E-Man's ranting for a while.

They reached the office to quiet and dim lighting. The building closed at 6:30 PM and the time was heading for eight o'clock. They mounted the stairs and even Mrs. Steed was gone from her post. In Jordan's office, they found Don and Malcolm, waiting on the couch by the windows. They both looked up as Jordan and E-Man entered.

"What's up?" E-Man said. Malcolm looked like he had eaten old fish.

Jordan recognized the look. "Small?"

Malcolm sighed and said, "Yeah. We lost Small."

E-Man said, "What! How?"

Don silently rotated the screen of the laptop. The monitor revealed a video of the parking lot outside Unlimiteds.

"That's Small's car," Don said, pointing to a late model BMW. He struck a key and the video sped forward.

"This is from one of the cameras I set up outside Unlimiteds." Malcolm altered his position to see the screen. "You can see as time passes everyone leaves but Small." The tape showed people leaving the building in small groups toward their cars. They walked across the screen at high speeds. The timer on the screen rapidly counted off the hours until dusk arrived. Soon nothing was in shot but Small's BMW.

Jordan stroked his chin. "Maybe he's still in there."

Malcolm shook his head. Don played with the keyboard again. Various views of the building from different angle flashed on the screen. No movement from within and all the windows were dark.

"If he's in there," Malcolm said, "he's sitting there in the dark."

"For hours," Don added.

Malcolm hung his head. "I don't know how he got out, or even if he left with someone else it, but it should be on here."

"What about Robin?" Jordan asked.

"She left hours ago, about 11. Alone."

Jordan thought. His silence expanded to uncomfortable dimensions. Malcolm squirmed in his seat. "Man, I'm really sorry."

Jordan waved him off. He wasn't in the mood to beat up on Malcolm for something wasn't really his fault. He was about to explain his feeling to the others when the phone rang.

"UrbanKnights Investigations. Jordan Noble."

"Jordan Noble, good evening."

"Random!" He pointed at Malcolm which translated to go do a trace. Malcolm bolted from the room. The remaining UrbanKnights were glued to Jordan's phone call. "What the hell do you want, you son of a bitch!"

"Well, I want you, dead of course. But I can wait for that. I have a pressing matter to attend to first."

Jordan nodded understanding Random's meaning. "Crush."

"Yes. It has been somewhat delayed by oh, four years or so. Thanks, no small part to you."

Jordan smiled. "Happy to serve." He glanced over to a clock on the wall. He was going to have to stall to give Malcolm time to establish a trace. "So, what's this call for? I'm sure you're not just calling to give me an update."

Random chuckled, "No. I'm sure you are aware that I am back on schedule. My associate, Mr. Slash has secured the sample I need. The sample you failed to keep a hold of."

"Oh," Jordan said, "You mean the sample I took from you when I shot you?"

Random laughed again. "A mere flesh wound, I assure you. I hardly felt it."

"That's good. Since we're chatting, how did you know where I'd have the crush?"

"Oh, Major Noble. Don't stall. You won't trace this call, I promise you. But to answer your question, let's just say I have friends that can find out things."

"Uh huh."

"You have quite an arrogant tone about you. I do not like that. Not at all."

"Now why should I give a shit what you like?"

"One moment." A pause followed by a terrified voice. "Jordan? Jordan! Help me!" A scream and the voice was gone.

Jordan gripped the phone so hard his veins sprang from his hands. When he spoke, E-Man and Don jumped.

"Robin! Robin, is that you? Robin!"

Random's voice came back. "I think that's the reason you should give a shit what I like."

It took a second for Jordan to regain control of himself. When he did, he asked, "What do you want?"

"That's better. Now then, you have been very bothersome. You are cleverer than I have given you credit for. Now I wish you to curb that cleverness for the moment. I will conduct my business tomorrow and you will not interfere. Adhere to my wishes and I will trade the good Ms. Summers – her life for yours."

"When?" Jordan knew the request was cliché, but at this moment, no other options presented itself.

"I will telephone you tomorrow, after my business is complete. Until then, busy yourself with some other matter. Read a book. But if you interfere in my affairs..."

Random paused before he hung up. Jordan stood for a moment, shaking. He released an animalistic roar. He flung the phone, ripping it out of the socket. It shattered into a million piece as when it struck the opposite wall. Neither Don nor E-Man knew what to say. They could piece together from Jordan's side of the conversation Random had kidnapped Robin. What the next move was, no one could guess. Breathlessly, Malcolm returned.

"I – I couldn't get a trace."

Jordan gripped the end of the desk and hung his head. A full minute passed before he spoke. When he did, the others jumped.

"Don, Malcolm, go home. Come back tomorrow. Tomorrow, we're going to end this, one way or another."

"Malcolm started to protest. "But, Jordan, we -"

Jordan flashed him a look. Malcolm's eyes went big. He turned to leave with Don just behind them. Jordan waited until he heard the outer door open and close. He turned to E-Man.

"He's got Robin. He says he's going to hold her until he sells the crush tomorrow. Then he'll trade her for me."

E-Man nodded. "But you don't believe that."

Jordan went to the windows. Traffic sped by, trouble free, down Jefferson. He placed a hand on the glass and, waited. For what, he wasn't quite sure. He caught a reflection of himself and knew. At that moment, he knew. She needed him. The Jordan Noble from right - now not from the Defense Intelligence Agency. And either he was going to do what needed to be done or not. A sly, roguish smile formed in the glass' image.

"There you are," Jordan told the reflection.

"What?"

Jordan returned to his friend. Crossing the room, he said, "He's going to kill her. She's probably seen him. She can identify him. Hell, he'd kill her just to spite me."

"Yeah, well, probably. OK, what do you want to do?"

The answer was obvious. "I'm going to get her back. No matter what it takes. I'm going to cross some lines I rather not. And I'm going to need your help."

E-Man crossed his arms and lifted his chin. "Jordan, let me take a second to say, you have been the biggest pain in the ass lately."

"Yeah. I know. Self-pity."

"By the buckets, dog. But you my boy – ride and die and all that shit. What do we do?"

The rogue's grin again. He patted E-Man's shoulder. "I don't know where Random is, but I know where Small will be. He knows where Robin is and he's going to tell me."

"OK," E-Man said, "I can live with that. I never liked them pretty boys."

"Come on. We're going to need some of our equipment from the old days." E-Man groaned as he no doubt followed Jordan's meaning. Before they left the Defense Intelligence Agency, he used his clearance and access to obtain a few items not normally available to the open market. Some of it was comm gear, protective personal equipment – but most of it was of a more, violent nature.

E-Man pointed a thumb up. "Upstairs, right?"

"Yeah. Go on, I'll be up in a minute."

Alone, Jordan looked down at his hands. They were steady as a rock. The service was behind him, he accepted it now. But he was still Jordan Noble. A man who would decide his own fate. He didn't need the blessing of the Air Force or any badge and definitely not the damn CIA. He was his own man and he was going to get justice. God help anyone who got in his way. 
Chapter Twenty: The Comeuppance

Kevin Small was tired. It had been a long day. He rubbed his eyes and blew out a long sigh.

"Federal prison." He didn't like its sound. Never did. But, now, it was so much closer, a more definite reality. Yesterday, prison was not in his fate. The worst the cops could pin on him was maybe some possession and, if they were very lucky, aiding a felon. Something he could talk his way out of. Today was a different story. He was a no kidding accomplice to, at best a kidnapper, at worst a murderer.

He parked his BMW in the drive of his modest ranch in Southfield. Random's men returned him to Unlimiteds and followed him home. Across the street, they parked, watching his every move from the shadow draped Volvo. Cody Random was sure Jordan would strike through Small so he had a pair of his men guarding him 24/7.

The two men sat, trying to look casual. Like someone could look casual sitting in front of a house for hours at a time. Small wondered why his neighbors didn't call the police. Random had probably taken care of that, too. He shuddered. He didn't want to think about that.

He got to the door and casually looked back at the sedan.

Should I wave? Just to let them know he saw them. Small didn't want Random and his crew to think he was weak. They had entered and disrupted his life any way they chose. He wanted them to think he was an equal partner, just as important as Random. Without him, no deal could be made. Small had the connections. The facilities. High and mighty Cody Random couldn't approach a larger dealer. Cody Random was the law's man of the hour! Public enemy number one! He needed to work with Small, an up and coming dealer. A man with such a limited criminal past, the police wouldn't even notice him. Yeah, Cody Random was an international criminal with violence and mayhem in him, but right now, today, he needed Kevin Small.

He made a slight salute like gesture. Just something to let his 'bodyguards' know he knew they were there.

That's right, boys, keep up the good work. Remember who you work for...

No response. No movement from the car. Did they see him? Small made his gesture bigger, trying to make it look like one complete gesture.

Just waving at my men...no big deal. It's not like I want you to acknowledge me or anything...

Still nothing. He felt a flash of anger. Who the hell did those guys think they are! Do they know who I am!

"Is some goddamn respect too much to ask for?" Small took a step towards the car. He'd tell them. He'd give them a piece of his mind. But he stopped. No, that wouldn't work. The men in the car, the type of men, wouldn't respond to him. They didn't care about the 'deal'. They worked for Cody Random, a tough and dangerous man like them. Small imagined the men were laughing at him, at his meager attempt at attention and respect. He acted like his step forward was not toward the car, but to his lawn. He bent down to examine the grass like a good homeowner. He nodded as he stood up, completing the illusion of inspecting a slight flaw in the lawn. He moved back to the door, making sure he was not in any way paying attention to the car across the street. At the same time, wondering what they were thinking.

The house was dark. Small sighed as he entered, feeling safe for the first time that day. He was the king of his castle. Outside, everything was different. He knew Random had planned to kidnap Robin, and even ultimately kill her. He didn't know Random had planned to involve him. Robin had seen him with Random. No way he could let her survive now. It was him or her. Well, he would miss her.

He threw his keys on a coffee table as he made his way through the house. He fished out his cell. It had been hours since he checked it and he was sure to have some messages. He stopped as he saw the warning of one awaiting message and frowned. Was it Random with more last minute changes to the plan? Or worse, Robin, a call from earlier in the day, with a message professing love and how she couldn't wait to see him again? He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hear her voice. He wasn't completely heartless. They were together for a few years. Sure, it wasn't going to lead to marriage or anything still it be hard to hear the voice of love from someone he had totally screwed over.

Well, maybe it wasn't her? Only one way to find out. He put the phone to his ear.

"Turn around."

Icy fear clutched his heart. Entranced, Small did as the message commanded. He didn't even see Jordan Noble's fist smash into his face.

~

Getting into Small's house wasn't the hardest thing Jordan had to do. Random, as Jordan suspected, posted guards outside the house. They were not very good at their jobs. No doubt they could keep the average person away, but nothing was average about E-Man and Jordan. Not when it came to this sort of thing. Random no doubt had let his hatred blind him to what they were capable. Did Random really think a couple of guys in a car would keep him out?

Jordan and E-Man stealthily approached the car from the rear. With timing from years of working together, both opened the car doors and with one blow each, knocked out the men. After that, it was child's play to enter the house through a rear window. Small's security system was laughable. No, that wasn't the hard part.

The hard part was waiting.

Jordan knew he could get the jump on Small. The voice mail stunt was just to drive the point home. So, Jordan and E-Man hid and waited for Small to come home. When he arrived, Jordan could barely contain himself. Once Small played the message, it was all worth the wait.

Small flew off Jordan's fist like he was rocket-propelled. He looked up from the floor, his eyes were saucers. His face was a mask of fear. Jordan, despite himself, enjoyed this moment. The whole way over, he had told himself that he would handle this like any other shakedown. Now that he was here, Jordan was going to enjoy kicking Small's ass.

Small's legs pumped like pistons, trying to get back on his feet. His voice turned into a scream like from a child when he finally stood up. He raced for the kitchen and freedom through the back door. He breached the doorway and was clotheslined by a hidden E-Man. The blow stopped Small in his tracks. Jordan descended on him like a bird of prey. He grabbed the man and held him fast.

The two stared into each other's eyes. Fear rose off Small like a stench. It had been so easy for him to mock Jordan – to remind him of the intimacy he never had with Robin. It was so easy for him to fain innocence about his involvement with Random. To lie. To smile as Jordan ran around trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Now, all that was over. No rules, no laws. It was man to man.

Small tried to catch his breath, no doubt to beg for his life. Jordan pulled him an inch from his face.

"Do you know three forms of martial arts?"

Small's face went from fear to confusion. "N-no..."

A pause.

"I do."

He pushed Small away and at precise moment, executed a perfect roundhouse kick. Small fell into a nearby cabinet and was back on the floor.

"Damn!" E-Man said. "That had to hurt!"

Jordan ignored his partner and picked up Small. A bruise formed on his cheek at the point Jordan kicked him. A right cross and he had a matching one on the other cheek. Jordan kneed him twice in the stomach followed with an uppercut. Small was on the floor again. Shaken, Small reached his feet. He stumbled around, his balance long a thing of the past.

"Fight," Jordan said.

Small held his hand up. "Wait, no. I- I can..."

Fight!" Jordan shouted. "What kind of man are you? I break into your house, kick your teeth in and you don't do anything? What? You only bad when you got Random looking out for you? You can talk big out in public, but now that it's just you and me, you're a punk?"

Jordan felt his heartbeat soar. Disgust for Small made him want to vomit. He wanted to be a big-time criminal, on the cutting edge of the new drug craze, but he wasn't willing to fight for it.

He grabbed Small's shoulder, steadying him. "Let's go, big man. Let's see what you got. You were talking all that junk about how you fucked Robin - any dog can fuck. Come on. Let's see the man. If there is one..."

It was like a switch went off. Small's lips curled and from behind them a sound almost like a roar of defiance. His first punch was a left. Then a right. Both to Jordan's face. The detective reeled under the force of the blows. Small went for a stomach punch. Jordan doubled over. Small said something but it was unintelligible.

He threw a right uppercut – an uppercut Jordan caught at the fist. Small turned his gaze to his opponent, mouth agape. Jordan twisted the fist onto itself. The snap following was clearly the sound of a bone breaking – his humerus.

"Oh, snap!" E-Man said from the kitchen door. "Sorry. Bad choice of words."

Jordan went textbook on Small. The punches rained down to the places for maximum pain. Kidneys. Base of the throat. He even punched his left ear. He stopped and examined his handiwork. Small was punch drunk. Dead on his feet – mouth open, eyes closed. He swayed as if a breeze traveled the room.

"Knock him the fuck out!" E-Man shouted.

Jordan hit Small with a standing jump kick - directly to the chin. Small flew and landed on a coffee table, smashing it into a million pieces.

" _Shoryuken!"_

Jordan caught his breath. "That's 'Rising Dragon Punch'."

E-Man shrugged. "Details. It's a finishing move."

Jordan sat on the couch, surprisingly calm. He looked down at his fallen foe. Now he regretted the degree of ass whipping he put on Small. He could have given the man brain damage. E-Man knelt down at Small's side. He took off a black glove. He, like Jordan was in all black tactical gear – another leftover from the old days.

"Well, you didn't kill him." E-Man had a finger at Small's vein. "Not that I'm judging."

Jordan reared his head back on the couch. Time was not on his side, but for him to continue, he needed Small conscious.

Small lie still for thirteen and a half minutes. Jordan squatted over him. The eyes fluttered and Jordan fitted a suppressor to a H&K Mark 23 semiautomatic pistol. He pressed the barrel to Small's temple while his other hand pressed down hard on Small's chest.

"Just in case you were wondering," Jordan said, "I ain't playing with you no more. This is the deal, yo. I'm going to ask you a question. Just one. You will answer it to my satisfaction or I will kill you." He cocked the gun.

"Yo, Noble," E-Man said, "if you don't need me no more, I'm going out to get the car."

"See ya," Jordan said, his eyes still locked on Small's. "No witnesses. What's it gonna be, punk?" Jordan felt Small's heart thunder under his gloved hand.

It took a few tries, but Small found his voice. "OK, OK, what do you want?"

Jordan flashed into anger and almost squeezed the trigger. "What do you think I want! Where's Robin?" The gun drove deeper into Small's flesh.

Small's head bounced up and down uncontrollably. Tears rolled out of his eyes. "OK, please! I'm sorry. OK, Random's got her on Vinewood...off on Grand Boulevard. Down by the river. There's a park there and..."

"I know where it is!" Jordan said. "What's the address?"

Small sputtered a number. "Please, man, this wasn't my idea. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Jordan stood. He leveled his gun directly at Small's tears streamed face. "She loved you."

Small broke into a loud crying fit. By all appearances, a gunshot should follow. Instead, Jordan just stood over him. Killing him was pointless. Jordan had broken him. He was going to jail. Federal prison. Jordan walked to the door, holstering his weapon.

"You've pissed yourself," he said over his shoulder as he walked out. The thought occurred to him he had broken into Small's house, assaulted him and two other men. The evidence he had of their guilt was almost non-existence. All three could press charges and swear they never even heard of Cody Random. If he had half a brain, he'd go back and put 9mm rounds in all their heads.

But no, he was following his instinct. Random would abandon all these failures. They'd be out in the cold and of no mind to go to the police. If Random won the day, he be a force to be reckon with. If things went Jordan's way – when things went his way, there'd be evidence aplenty to take them down. Jordan got in the UrbanKnights' white van.

"Well?" E-Man asked.

"She's down by the river, off The Boulevard."

E-Man nodded. He started the van and headed out.

"You down for this?" Jordan asked as they made their way back to the main streets.

"Little late to be asking me now. But you, are you OK?"

The streetlight flashed across Jordan's face. Alternating light and darkness. Something like Jordan's mood. The light of the pursuit of justice. The darkness of seeking revenge.

A newfound resolve was in his voice. "No, but I'm getting there."

Chapter Twenty-One: The Caged Bird

Jordan and E-Man arrived on Vinewood, a residential street a block west of Grand Boulevard. The street ended in a cul-de-sac. Every house but one was empty. The neighborhood's best days were all behind it. Blackness cloaked the street as every other street light was out. In the darkness, shapes moved like men – an occasional voice or laughter seemingly came from nowhere.

E-Man put the van in park. The address from Small was at the leftmost house in the cul-de-sac. Jordan begrudgingly acknowledged Random's cleverness.

"There's no way to get to the house without being seen," Jordan said. "Very smart."

"Uh huh," E-Man said, "so, what do we do?"

Jordan thought for a moment. "Go around the block."

E-Man backed up the van and went over to Grand Boulevard. The once proud street was a mirror image of Vinewood, most of the houses were vacant. E-Man drove to the house directly behind the Random house. He stopped and the two men got out. The house was a giant of a structure, a throwback to a bygone era of stately homes when this area was home to doctors and lawyers. Since those brighter days, the house had been converted to a two-family unit and ultimately abandoned. It was a heartbreaking thing to behold. The solid well-built home was standing empty. Jordan and E-Man didn't have time to mull such things.

"We can use this," Jordan said, "If you can get upstairs, you should be able to have a good view of the house behind."

"Let's get our stuff."

At the back of the van, Jordan unloaded a pair of duffle bags. Within, weapons and a pair of communication devices. The comm set had an earpiece and a transmitter went around the throat. Smaller gear was available but given their successful history with the devices, these would work just fine.

E-Man knelt down and assembled a PSG-1 7.62mm Precision Marksman Rifle. Along with it, he affixed a huge thermographic scope. He stood once completed.

Jordan pointed to the second floor of the house. "Think you can get in and find a window overlooking the yard?"

"Did Detroit invent Techno?" E-Man made for the house, mounting its huge front porch. He stopped at the door and prepared to breach. Jordan crept around the side of the house and through the yard. He leapt the fence dividing the houses and knelt down in a mass of overgrown weeds. The moon shone above hindered by drifting cloud. Still, between his increasing night vision and the lights from the house ahead of him, Jordan had a good view of the twenty yards or so of backyard.

He spoke into his throat mike. "Are you in position? What do you see?"

"Wait a minute." Long seconds went by. Jordan knew E-Man was sweeping the house with the scope of his rifle. The thermographic scope would detect any warm bodies around and just before any windows. The limits of technology wouldn't allow his partner to see through the entire house, so he'd have to wait as everyone in the building moved into view. Eighteen minutes ticked away.

"Well?" Jordan asked.

"Hang on." Four more minutes passed. "OK. I got... six...seven on the second floor. Three on the first."

Jordan nodded. That was a lot of guys just to guard one woman. Was Random expecting him? He was probably hedging his bets – a better safe than sorry kind of thing. It was absolutely nuts for Jordan to try a rescue. He was counting on that. Hoping no one would think he would try such a thing. One mistake at any point of his rescue and Robin was dead. It didn't matter. Today, Jordan would be perfect. If they were expecting him, too bad for them.

"Any sign of her?" Jordan asked.

"Nope. Unless she's behind something I can't see with my scope. Could be but, I doubt it. She's probably in the basement."

Jordan nodded in agreement. It was an old house and it wasn't likely anything could block E-Man's scope.

"OK, hero," E-Man's voice was back in Jordan's ear, "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to go in there and get her."

"Good plan."

Jordan grunted a response. "OK. I'm going in. Gimme some cover."

Another pause. "Hold on. There's a guy in the back yard. I'll get him."

Jordan peeped into the yard. He could see someone wandering about. A guard on patrol – a lonely figure in the middle of the yard, smoking.

"Hang on, I got this."

"All right, John Wayne."

"Ain't even like that," Jordan said. He crept from his hide. "Radio silence."

His friend's assumption aside, Jordan's decision had nothing to do with ego or bravado. It would be best to keep the number of people shot with precision firearms down to a minimum. Firearms that could be tracked to the UrbanKnights. Jordan caught up to the guard and clasped him in a sleeper hold. Grunts and gurgling followed but in a matter of seconds the man was out. He lowered the unconscious form to the ground and stalked to the house.

He hugged the wall as he moved to the side door. It suddenly opened. He stepped back into the shadows. A young black man came through, not seeing the detective. Instead he reached in a stretch. Jordan kept the Mark 23 trained on the man as he yawned loudly. He reached in his pocket and produced a cigarette. Satisfied the man wasn't going to detect him any time soon, Jordan stood. He grabbed the man by his collar and swiftly brought him in an arch ending in the side of the house. The criminal collapsed to the ground. He would wake up later having no idea what hit him and why his nose was broken.

Jordan went through the door to the landing of the stairs going to the basement. He stood motionless for a moment as he listened. Voices and footfalls traveled from the first level. Below him, sounds that could only be a television. Wrestling.

He moved down the stairs - carefully, slowly. It was an old house, full of sounds, a squeaking step, one of them. He had to be careful. No mistakes. Perfect.

One step down. Two. He was close enough to peek down into the basement. He saw what appeared to be a pair of legs. Woman's legs. One more step. Yes, it was a pair of woman's legs. It was Robin. His heart skipped a beat. She was strapped to a chair, her back to him. Something pulled over her head - a pillowcase or the like. Still, it had to be her. He was sure Random hadn't kidnapped two women.

He scanned the rest of the basement. It was unfinished with pipes and heating ducts visible from the ceiling. No tile covered the floor. Off to the left, a door led to another room. Robin was guarded by three men. The man standing next to her was three hundred fifty pounds if he was an ounce. His back was to Jordan and he rubbed Robin's shoulder suggestively.

"Soon, baby, soon," he said. Robin struggled against her bounds trying to get away from the fat man's touch. Her disgust was obvious. So was Jordan's. His heart caught up with the beat it skipped earlier. He willed himself to calm down. First things first.

I'll be with you in a second, Bird.

Beyond Robin and her fat torturer, was a couch. On it, sat two men, only the tops of their heads visible. The right one was clearly entranced by the television. The other man was sleep, his head resting on the back of the couch.

This seems familiar.

His options were limited, given how close Fatty stood. From upstairs, one of the sounds got closer. Jordan froze, willing his hearing to focus on the sound. After an endless minute, the sound moved away and grew fainter. He sighed like a whisper. He was out of time.

"Yo, I'm gonna take a piss," the fat man said. "Look after my girlfriend."

The man engrossed with the television made a gesture he heard, but leaned closer to his show. Fatty, chuckled at his own joke as he wobbled through the door. Jordan allowed himself a slight smile. He kept his Mark 23 trained on the back of TV man's head. Jordan figured he was the most dangerous in the room now. Still, he listened for the return of the fat man. At the bottom of the stairs, he slid his Smith and Wesson Special Ops knife out of its boot scabbard. He held it in his right hand while the Mark 23 in his left stayed focused on its target. Robin was only four or five feet away. It might as well been four or five miles. She was stripped down to her underwear and he could see her trembling in fear. He wanted to run to her, but he couldn't make a sound. It would only take twenty seconds to get to her at his current pace. He held his breath. It was not the right time, considering the extreme danger they were both in, yet he couldn't help but drink Robin's beauty. Her nearly naked body was as perfect as Jordan had both dreamt and remembered.

This is not the time for a hard on...

He focused on what he was doing. Fatty was having quite a time in the bathroom. TV man was also trapped in his own world. After an eternity, Jordan reached her. He knelt down next to her. Robin gasped under her mask, sensing someone close to her.

"Shhh. It's me."

Robin stiffened. "Jordan?"

Jordan put his Smith and Wesson to work on Robin's binds. They were 5-50 cords and cut fairly easy.

"Don't make a sound. I'll have you free in a second."

Now all he had to do was get out of there. Fatty wouldn't be struggling on the toilet all day. Jordan couldn't count on being out of the house before that happen. What would he do then? The point became moot.

"Yo, Dek," TV man was shouting for Fatty. He turned around, "Why don't you - What the -?"

TV man popped to his feet. Before he could utter another sound, Jordan stood and fired the Mark 23. A pop sounded before the man's head snapped back and he dropped behind the couch. Blood splashed the man sleeping next to TV man. He woke up angry and immediately came to his feet.

"Damn! What the hell is this?" He turned to face Jordan. Shock registered on his face and Jordan discharged another round. The man went down without another sound.

Robin shook violently in a vain attempt to get free. Before Jordan could calm her, Fatty emerged from the bathroom. He read the danger in the room and drew an Uzi from under his jacket. Jordan didn't have time to aim his gun so he threw the Smith and Wesson, embedding it into Fatty's throat. Bubbles of blood erupted. His brain sent one last impulse to his finger and fired a burst from his Uzi into the ceiling.

Robin screamed. Shouting and the sounds of running came from upstairs. Jordan sprinted for Fatty. He pulled the knife noisily from his throat.

"E, I've been made."

"Yeah, I figured that's what all the shouting and shit was about." E-Man's voice said into Jordan's ear. "I'm ready."

Jordan went back to Robin. He sliced the last of the cord with one swift motion. He tore the pillowcase off Robin's head. Her beautiful face was gripped with fear. Tears flowed freely. He didn't notice. There was only one time Robin didn't look beautiful to him and this wasn't it. He forced himself back into reality.

"We're outta here."

Robin nodded and Jordan took her hand. He headed back to the stairs just as one of the men came down. Jordan fired another silent shot. The man took the bullet in the chest and fell down the remainder of the stairs.

"E, where's that cover fire? I got company down here."

"You want some more?" E-Man said. "I can stop." On E-Man's side, Jordan heard the pop-pop-pop of automatic fire.

He darted up the steps with Robin in tow and imagined E-Man was doing the best he could from his position. Jordan got to the top of the stairs and burst out of the side door. He dragged Robin along the side towards the backyard.

"E-Man! Get the car. We're on our way!" Jordan and Robin made it to the back yard. She screamed again as they passed the first guard Jordan encountered.

"It's OK! We're almost there!" He pulled her along. He looked over his shoulder to ensure she was still moving. As he turned, two men with assault rifles rounded the corner of the house. Jordan stopped and whirled Robin behind him. He drew aim – lights from the house illuminated the men. Three shots and the men fell.

Jordan pulled Robin on. At the rear fence, he lifted her by her waist and nearly threw her over the fence. They raced through the yard and on to the front of the house on Grand Boulevard.

The van idled in the street, E-Man at the wheel. Jordan threw open the side door and pushed in a dazed Robin. He was about to get in, when he turned. Two more gunmen rushed from behind the house. Jordan fired. The men fired back. Bullets bounced off the van. Inside, Robin screamed as the ricochets echoed.

"Get in!" E-Man shouted from behind the wheel. Jordan continued to fire. The rage he had bottled up since leaving Small's had found a release and would not be denied. No telling how long Jordan would have stood there if he hadn't ran out of bullets.

"Goddamn it, Jordan!" E-Man shouted again, "Get in now!"

No other option, Jordan leapt into the van. He brought the door shut with a slam. "Go, go, go!"

Tires whined as E-Man mashed the petal to floor. They sped off, the sounds of bullets whizzing by grew further and further apart and finally ended altogether.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Loose Ends

Slash burst through the door of the Michigan Avenue motel close to the Detroit-Dearborn border. A splash of light from the open door filled the room. Random was on the far side of the sole bed. He came quickly to his feet, fasting his pants. Slash noticed a kneeling figure with a pink bob of hair just before Random.

"What could you possibly want now?" Random said.

"The girl's gone." Slash swallowed air in gulps.

Random's patience was a long-ago memory. "No, she's right here!"

"Not that girl," Slash said. He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if trying to draw a memory from Random's brain. The light bulb came on and Random's mouth went round. He turned to the girl and without a word pointed to the door. The lady of the evening understood and left in a flash.

Alone, Random turned to his right-hand man. "Jordan?"

Slash nodded. "I got a call a second ago from one of the boys. No one really saw anything but said it was like a military hit – the guy had sniper support just like in the movies!"

Slash rate of breathing came down some as he awaited his boss' instructions. He definitely didn't expect Cody to scream at the top of his lungs. Just as quickly as he started screaming he stopped. He grabbed a lamp next to the bed and hurled it through the window.

"How did he know?" The question was more to himself. A moment's thought. "Small."

Slash twisted his lips. "I told you that spade would be trouble."

Random smiled as he retrieved his phone from the dresser. "He is, indeed a rat, my friend. Fortunately, I know how to handle rats."

"You kill 'em," Slash said.

"Exactly." Random turned his attention to his phone. "Mr. Small has outlived his usefulness. Can you handle this?" A pause. "Thank you."

~

E-Man looked up in the rearview mirror and caught Jordan's eyes. The interior of the van was filled with three sets of labored breathing and the dull drone of the engine. Jordan sat next to Robin. He wanted, needed to touch her, but given her last few hours, he thought better of it. He reached behind them to the third row of seats and pulled out the A2 jacket. He draped it over her shoulders, doing his best to conceal her teal Victoria's Secrets and return a portion of her dignity. Her head popped up for a moment to meet his eyes. Silently, she dropped it again and pulled the jacket tight around her.

"Where to?" Jordan turned to E-Man's voice from the front.

"Small's. He knows where Random is."

"Damn, yo. Didn't we just leave there?"

Jordan arched an eyebrow at E-Man then threw his head in Robin's direction. "I was kinda in a hurry..."

"Oh. Yeah."

~

Small fell in and out of consciousness. He had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing he was sure of was the pain all over his body. No bones felt broken but everywhere else throbbed with a pain he didn't even know was possible. It hurt to think, forget about moving. Every attempt was like knives throughout his body. He had to reach Random. To warn him. There would be hell to pay, he was sure – but if he could get to Random, tell him about the detective's plan to save Robin...maybe he could still get through this mess with his skin intact.

He rolled to his side and for a moment and almost blacked out. Several seconds of heavy breathing passed before his darken house came back into focus. Across the floor he saw it – his cellphone. A bit of good news. All he had to do now was to slide across the floor to it. If it had been on the table or laying on the couch, all bets were off. No way could Small stand in his current condition. He collected what little strength he had left to begin his trek of six, maybe seven feet to his fallen phone. Behind him, close to the door, floor boards squeaked. He rolled over onto his right shoulder to investigate. His vision was blurred, still he recognized the man in the room. Small breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, it's you." He said, "Help me up. We got to warn Random. Jordan -"

Small stopped in mid-sentence. A gun appeared in the man's hand. Before he had time to scream, Kevin Small felt a crushing blow to his head. What was left of his brain still inside his skull conjured a vision of Robin Summers looking at him. Tears in her eyes, she asked, "Why?"

Small's world went black before he could think of a reply.

~

The first sign something was wrong was the small knot of men on the corner. They milled around aimlessly. Some were on their phone, but everyone down to a man looked in the direction of Kevin Small's house.

"Your call," E-Man said. His eyes again up to the rearview. Jordan knew E-Man felt something was amiss. It was going on midnight and something must have brought these men out of their homes, just to stand on the street. The absence of a pretty girl narrowed the choices. And while Southfield was not Detroit, the residents, particularly on this street, were cut from the same cloth.

"Pull in the driveway," Jordan said. "Keep the engine running."

E-Man did as he was instructed. Just as the wheels came to a stop, Jordan slid open the van's side door and leapt out. He looked back to see Robin's head darting about, recognizing where she was and E-Man, behind the wheel, armed again with the Px4 Storm.

Jordan cut across the grass, taking the straightest route to the door. He was more than a little surprise to find the door still open. The surprise was compounded by the fact the car watching the house was gone. He drew the suppressed Mark 23 and entered the house. Still dark, moonlight from the bay window in the front the only source of light. He wasn't inside for two seconds when he found Small. He was almost in the same spot Jordan left him, but now a bullet hole marred his babyface.

He knelt beside Small. No need to check for vitals, he was clearly deceased. A coppery smell of blood filled the air and glistening chucks of what could only be brain matter form a trail behind Small. Jordan shook his head.

"You brought this on yourself," Jordan whispered. "But who did-"

"Jordan!" E-Man shouted.

The Mark 23 came forward as Jordan took aim at the door. Robin ran into the room, the leather jacket long gone. She came straight to Small's dead body and kicked it in the stomach.

"Bastard!" Robin screamed.

Jordan leapt to his feet to restraint her. She fought in his arms. She reared back to spit on the dead man. As the spittle flew forward, Jordan intercepted it with his hand. E-Man at the door, twisted his face in disgust.

"Evidence." Jordan said, wiping his hands on his black tactical pants. If Robin's spit was found on Small, it would place her at the scene of the crime. E-Man nodded, probably agreeing with his partner's decision if not his methodology.

"OK," Jordan said, "there's nothing for us here. Let's get out of here."

Jordan dragged the kicking Robin out of the house. He clamped a hand over her mouth to curtail the stream of profanity. He passed his jacket on the lawn and picked it up. E-Man opened the door for them and Jordan literally threw Robin into the van. On the other side, the young men grew closer. It was definitely time to leave. Jordan close the rear door at the same moment E-Man floored the gas.

"The office," Jordan said. "Do an SDR." Spy talk for Surveillance Detection Route – a measure of avoiding pursuers. Given the disruptions to Random's operation, being followed was a low possibility, but no one ever died from being too careful.

Thirty-seven minutes later, E-Man guided the van into its usual parking spot behind the UrbanKnights office. The streets of downtown were empty of life and a cold unearthly still filled the night. Jordan exited and guided Robin out. Whatever fight she had in her evaporated during the trip and she offered no resistance as Jordan helped her to his corvette, parked next to the van. After Jordan buckled Robin into the sports car, he went back to E-Man who hung back at the van, trying not to crowd Jordan in this awkward moment.

"So, now what?" E-Man said.

"Get Akio, take her somewhere safe."

"Done. Then?"

Jordan headed back to the Vette.

"You and the fellas be back here tomorrow morning – we'll finish this." Jordan looked hard at E-Man. He wondered if the resolve of his friend was weakening under all the increase in violence. E-Man had made his feeling clear about working with, even in this indirect way, the government. He read Jordan's mind.

"We cool, man," E-Man said. A moment passed. "I can beat you up about this later."

Jordan nodded and turned to leave.

E-Man said, "Where are you going?"

"Back home," Jordan said.

"Really? How about one of the safe houses?"

Jordan shook his head. "I'll be good. Besides, I half want Cody to try something." He got in the car and drove off.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Lovers Again

The security from Jordan's apartment building wouldn't hold off a determined Random or any forces he had left. Still, it had a few things going for it. First it was off McDougall, a somewhat narrow street which would not be ideal for vehicles storming the gate. Secondly, an updated hotel with plenty of guests was just next door to the property would invite all sorts of unwanted witnesses.

Jordan cut the engine in his assigned parking space. He looked at his passenger and she was still catatonic. He exited the car, gun at the low carry. The three-story parking structure, decked out in red brick matching the apartment building was still as a tomb. Like E-Man, he completed a SDR en route home, still he checked around. A piece, a vital piece of this puzzle was missing. How did Random escape prison? How did he just happen on the one drug dealer who was dating Robin? And who killed Kevin Small? Jordan was sure all these questions had one answer. An unseen player on the board.

Satisfied they were alone. he opened the passenger door and lifted Robin out of the seat.

"OK, here we go..." They were face to face but Robin's head rolled to the side like a puppet without strings. Jordan sighed. Bad enough he had to drag a woman in only her underwear from the parking garage to his apartment, but a woman in only her underwear in a state of semi-consciousness.

"Looking forward to this," he said and wrapped his arm around her waist.

The space between the garage and the apartment was of course bathed in bright lighting, which, alone with the beams of the moon, made the blacktop glow. The security fence before the hotel did nothing to block the view. Fortunately, most of the guests were enjoying the comforts of their rooms at this late hour. Jordan's luck continued as instead of entering the building through its main entrance, complete with doorman, he got inside through an unmonitored side door. He slid his keycard through the reader. The door popped open and Jordan and his less than cooperative guest entered the building.

The halls were empty so no one interrupted their trek to the third floor. Jordan leaned Robin's limp body against the wall next to the door of unit 319. Another keycard swipe and they were in.

Galahad bounded across the empty living room to the door with all the uncoordinated cuteness one would expect from a puppy. His barks were a combination of confusion and anger. Jordan understood – the confusion was from the newcomer into his domain, the anger was because his master had been absent so long. Jordan didn't have time to consider the benefits of a doggie daycare, he had to see to the needs of his guest.

Her bare feet slapped the hardwood floor leading to the master bedroom. Once inside, Jordan sat her at the edge of a king-sized bed. Her head hung so her chin touched her chest. Her hands cupped in her lap. He looked over her again. At the door, Galahad danced in place, still barking. Jordan didn't have time for this. He closed the door. The dog's whines sounded for a few seconds, then the sound of his body hunched against the door, followed by a long sigh. Jordan went back to Robin. He imagined she was still in shock. At the very least, she needed a good night's rest.

"I'll be right back." He went into the master bathroom and returned with a first aid kit. He set the kit next to the motionless Robin and knelt down in front of her.

"OK," he said, "I'm going to check you for injuries. I'm not, you know, trying anything funny."

Again, Robin made no signs of acknowledgement. Eyes stared down at her empty hand. Jordan took her silence as a sign it was alright to touch her. He ran his hands slowly down her arm. He checked for injuries not visible to the eye. Bruises under the skin, broken bones – things of that nature. He tried to stay focus, but he couldn't help noticing how smooth her skin was. He shook his head and refocused his efforts. To look at her not as a woman but just a collection of limbs. It didn't really work.

Her skin was dark like the hue of rich chocolate. The complexion was flawless. He finished with her arms and moved to her legs. His eyes passed over her breast. Small, but perfect, they rose and fell at a slow steady pace under her bra. He tore his eyes away with some effort. He felt her calves, and had to remind himself that he was not caressing them. He started on the bottom of the legs. He moved inward, slowly. A few scratches presented themselves – nothing serious. The imperfections helped Jordan concentrate on what he was doing. Over the curve of her thighs, his hand slid inward. His finger brushed alone the edge of her panties. Nothing found, but he could have sworn she drew in the last breath a bit more sharply.

His task completed, Jordan leaned back and blew out a long breath. He felt a chill travel through his body. He had always hoped he would get to touch Robin again, but this was not what he had in mind. He stood up and went into his dresser. Nothing within would fit her, but he did come across a Nike blue and gray sweat suit. Better than nothing. He put it out next to her.

"I, er, don't have anything for you to wear," Jordan said. "Normally I hide my client in one of our safehouses. Usually, it's women. Hiding from boyfriends or abusive husbands, stuff like that." He paused. "They're not in my name. The houses...Actually, they're in my dog's name: Galahad Enterprises." Jordan laughed at how silly that sounded, spoken aloud. He immediately realize Robin couldn't care less. He cleared his throat.

"Any way, I'll be in the bedroom down the hall. The bathroom's through the walk-in closet." No response. He felt the weight of the world collapse on him. He turned to leave.

"What happen?"

Her words stopped him in his tracks. He stood silent, his back to her, thinking of a way to formulate his thoughts.

"Small made a deal with some drug dealers." He said. He stopped again to think of a way to verbalize the madness of the past few days. "He was going to give them this drug called..."

"No. What happened?"

Jordan understood. He turned, not wanting to, but he knew he had to face her. He owed her that much. Her eyes penetrated deep into his. His throat went dry. He struggled to find his voice. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," she said. No anger, just a desire for an answer – any answer.

Jordan leaned back into the doorframe. His eyes searched the ceiling for an answer. "I don't know. I was leaving. Going away. I mean, shit, I was assigned to Minot! I can't tell you how much that sucked. It was hard for me, going from the world to that...wasteland. I knew I couldn't give you what you needed."

"What did I need?" Robin asked, her voice even and calm which worried Jordan more than if she had shouted at him. Why was she so peaceful? Did she, like him, realized at this late stage in their relationship, only honesty mattered? Too often, lovers tried to keep painful truths from each other with little lies. A lie here, a lie there and soon all you have is lies. Is that what killed their relationship? It was pointless. Time had made it easy to say what should have been said so long ago.

"You needed more." Jordan said. The words came out like a sigh. "A normal home. A man who would be there. I don't know if you know, I didn't stay in North Dakota long. I ended up doing...some dangerous things. Things...I can't even tell you. You didn't deserve that. Wondering if I was dead or alive. You were better off without me."

He held his breath, wondering how she would respond. He was ready for almost anything, except what she did. Robin laughed. It was a quiet little laugh. She lowered her head and laughed a little louder. Jordan's eyebrow shot up.

She looked back at him, her face etched with anger. For the first time during this case, he felt a touch of fear in the base of his belly.

"That was always your problem, Jordan Noble. Do you know what that is?"

Dumbly, he shook his head.

"You were always trying to be a hero. I didn't need a hero. I didn't want one. I wanted...needed a man. I needed you."

Jordan felt like he had been slapped in the face. Was it that simple? Did he throw away his life, his happiness over this? Over some ridiculous notion he had to be something greater than he was? He could have just accepted what he had, loved her and, surprise! Be loved in return? Through thick and thin? For better or worse?

It was too much. It was too simple. Had he been so stupid? He couldn't face her anymore. She must have hated him. Tears burned his eyes. He spun to leave.

"Jordan."

He turned back. Robin stood and as she did, the jacket fell off her shoulders. He was entranced as she, slowly, purposefully, strolled towards him. She stopped just as her breasts, those perfect breasts, brushed his chest.

"But you are my hero." His eyes searched her face for answers. Something to make sense out of all this. Nothing was there. He loved her. He had almost from the moment he saw her. He probably would, one way or another, for the rest of his life. The question was if she loved him. After revealing her view of their split, how could she? But here she was. Training, discipline and experience had forged him into the man he was now. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the mystery of a woman.

Robin grew as she stood on her toes. She reached behind him and switched off the light. The moonlight bounced off the river and filled the room. She started backward, taking his hands in each of hers. He allowed himself to be led. Robin stopped at the edge of the bed and for the briefest of moments, paused. In the darkness she looked into his eyes. Jordan found he wasn't breathing. She laid back on the bed, pulling him down on top of her. Under him, Robin's body was soft but firm, just as he remembered. Just as he dreamt. He hovered there, as if something would happen and he'd wake up in Kansas or something. Her hand slid to the base of his neck, drawing him in. Just before their lips met, Robin said the words Jordan had waited over ten years and would have waited a lifetime to hear:

"Make love to me, Jordan Noble."

~

Jordan and Robin lay next to each other on the bed absorbed in the afterglow. They weren't wrapped in each other's arms. Instead they lay side by side, too drained for any kind of post-love holding. Jordan feared his heart stopped beating. Like his life had zenith and it couldn't get any better. He was being ridiculous, he knew, but the moment was, in a word, overwhelming. The loss of Robin had been an itch he couldn't scratch. Now, here he was next to her – just after making love. Life was good.

Then she snored.

Robin's eyes fluttered as she woke herself. She stared up at the ceiling for several second before she rolled her head toward Jordan. Her face split into a smile when she saw him.

"What are you looking at?" she seemed to be self-conscious. Maybe it was her nudity. Maybe it was the sex.

"Hey," he said. He had no smart Aleck response – not yet. He was coming down off the high. Looking into her eyes, made him twenty again.

"Hey."

They laid for a while just looking at each other. Words would break the spell, and drug dealers and dead bodies aside, they only wanted to be in this moment. Somewhere a clock ticked off the seconds. A distant horn of a vessel on the river made its lonely cry.

She drew in a long breath. It trembled on the way out. "That was-"

"Yeah, I know." They smiled. The sex uniting them, at least temporarily, as one being.

"Why didn't we do this before?"

Jordan rolled onto his back. A cough of a laugh in his throat. "You're kidding me, right?"

She looked back and her face twisted in confusion. "No. What?"

Jordan's mind went back to a twin bed in an apartment five miles from the campus of Michigan State University. Her breath so close to his. A plea on her lips – to wait...to do the 'right' thing and consummate their love within the holy bonds of marriage. He went back to a younger him, more eager and ready, and ultimately more frustrated then he had ever been or would be.

"You wanted to wait," he said.

"Yeah, well," she rolled to him. The darkness of the room made her a black form. "Why didn't you just, take me?"

His next breath came out hot. Not too different than a bull before the charge. "I was respecting you. Your wishes. Even your crazy maddening ones." He was angry but his fury was cooled by the fact the frustration he felt for over a decade had been sated. Her hand brushed across his face and another swell of affection came over him. He couldn't see but he knew she had a sad little grin on her face. He was tired of feeling bad and awkward with her. And at the very moment, he had something rising inside he wanted to share with her.

She said, "So, Mi-not?" Her voice paused his intentions. She said the word as if it was part of an alien language – which in a way, it was. "Tell me about it. Was it really that bad?"

His eyes did a circuit. "It was worse. Imagine the most horrible place on earth, then multiply by ten."

"Seriously, Jordan? Why you got to be so dramatic?"

He propped up on both elbows. "It had wind chills a hundred degrees below zero."

"Oh, come on!"

"Hand to God. The damn state was trying to kill me."

She adjusted the sheets – bringing them over the curve of her breasts. "Whatever, Jordan. Anyway, you were doing that missile thing?"

"Yup." Jordan had long ago accepted most Americans knew about the existence of the Intercontinental Ballistic Missile force, but didn't really trouble themselves over the details, like where they were. So, he didn't bat an eye when Robin asked about the 'missile thing'.

"But you said you weren't there long." She put her chin in her fist, like she was getting ready for a story. "Where'd you go after that?"

His arms came behind his head. "You wouldn't believe me."

She tugged his arm. "Come on. Tell me."

"I was a spy." He said matter of factly. Like he just announced he was a weatherman. He had, of course, passed to an individual not cleared for such, top secret information. But he knew, one – operatives had passed classified information to girlfriends and wives since the dawn of time and two – Robin wouldn't believe him.

"Get outta here." She pushed his arm this time.

"Told ya."

"A spy?"

"Yes."

"A James Bond with gadgets kinda spy?"

He rotated his head toward her. "You know, we in the community hate that reference. James Bond. Psst. Guy couldn't get intel from a Girl Scout let alone a real world source, with all his fancy cars, tuxedos and exploding pens."

She reared back. "Excuse me. Don't want to offend the community."

"All I'm saying."

A few seconds ticked by and only the drone of the air conditioner acted as the soundtrack of the darken room. Jordan kept his hands behind his head and eyes on the ceiling. She was quiet and he knew why. She was deciding. Deciding if what he told her was true. She was balancing what she expected of a man Jordan's age along with the memory of him back in college, against the things he done that very night. It would take a few minutes. He could admit he wasn't that impressive back at MSU. But, even in a modest estimation, he was pretty damn impressive during his one man rescue of her. It would be a little scary, lying next to a man who had killed five or six men only hours ago, but she would come to terms with it and the only possible answer.

"So...a spy."

Now he turned to her. "NOC, is probably a better term."

"Knock?"

"Yeah. Non Official Cover. I was a HUMINT, that's Human Intelligence agent operating in secret overseas."

She cocked her head to one side. "So, James Bond then?"

A sigh. "James Bond without the gadgets. Most of the time I was just pretending to be someone else to get information out of the enemy."

She curled her body, entranced by the story. "So you were in the CIA?"

"No. The D-IA. The Defense Intelligence Agency."

She gave him the side-eye. "You made that up."

He shrugged. "Nope. CIA gets all the press. There are sixteen publicly acknowledge US intelligence agencies. DIA is one."

"Publicly acknowledged...listen to you. So how many are there really?"

"Nineteen."

She moved in closer to him. "Jordan Noble. You think all this spy talk is sexy, don't you? That girls dig it."

He moved in closer to her. "You do."

A giggle followed by a kiss. "Maybe a little. So are all your boys Knocks?"

"Just E-Man."

She pondered for a moment. At the closer distance, he could see her lips twist. "I can see that. There's no way I'd believe that Don Ross was a spy."

"How about Malcolm?"

Her head shook. "I don't know him like that."

He laughed for a moment. She drew a breath to ask another question. He broke in to stop her. "It's probably better I don't tell you anymore."

The attitude busted out of her, complete with head roll. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really. I mean, if I tell you too much, it could get classified."

She lifted her hands. "Isn't all this classified?"

He sighed and his tone got dark. "It was a dangerous world. The war on Terrorism. All that shit." He turned away and reflected as he really hadn't since he left. The impact his actions had made. He somehow balanced all the deceit, the sacrifice, the violence against the real good he done. The lives he saved. Maybe, by extension, hers. A laugh. It was too much not to be silly. Unbelievable.

The idea, the objective was to prevent attacks by enemy powers on the military forces of America. Which in turn, protected the homeland from direct and indirect attacks. What he actually did, wasn't so ethical.

As a NOC his cover, his legend, was James Black, an account manager for one of the nation's largest financial brokers, Bradley International. Bradley, since the end of World War II, had seen to the financial needs, the monetary brokerage and the greasing of wheels of clients from all around the world. The three founding members, all Army officers who served under General Omar Bradley were stanch patriots, which seemed in stark contrast to the quasi-legal and flat out illegal services Bradley performed for Nazi, Communists and now terrorists. The answer was Bradley was a shell company of the Defense Intelligence Agency. Oh sure, a great many persons employed by Bradley were financial professionals, but at least fifty percent of the company was operatives of the Department of Defense. This fact alone could be something of an issue in light of international laws – not that every major country in the world doesn't do something similar. Still, good works was done and bad people were stopped. And Jordan Noble was a part of it.

He sat up in the bed. Bringing his elbows to his knees.

"Jordan?"

He heard her but most of his facilities were focused on a different issue. The reason for his depression. He didn't miss the service. He needed it. To have a mission. To make things better. To be the good guy. And as crazy as it sounds, Cody Random had given him the opportunity to be the good guy. Uniform or no, there would always be monsters to slay.

"Jordan." The call was a bit firmer this time. He lay back down. Robin pushed herself up on one elbow. He smiled at her body lit by the moonlight. Each curve was revealed in the low light. She shook her hair out - her eyes gazed longingly, even hungrily at him. They weren't done, apparently.

"Now what?" she asked.

"I thought..."

"Now what are we going to do?" She gestured around the room and out the window as if to indicate everything. "About this mess."

"Now, you stay here, safe. And me, well, the fellas and I go after Random."

Robin laughed. A short little giggle at first. Then a long full out chuckle. "Jordan Noble. You never change. You and your delusions of heroism. And you're flawless grammar. What did Cookie do to you?"

Jordan shot her a look, "That's Mrs. Noble to you."

Jordan's mother, nicknamed, Cookie, had hammered home the importance of good grammar to Jordan at an early age. Anytime he started with 'Me and...' she quickly corrected him. Only people close to him knew about that. Like former girlfriends. And new lovers.

"Cookie!" Robin shouted and lifted herself with her arms, towering over him. Jordan retaliated with a tickling attack. The two play-fought, grunts intermixed with laughter and the occasional scream. Beyond the door, Galahad's barks and howls went unheeded. Jordan allowed her to pin him. She sat on his chest, laughing and breathing hard.

"No really," she asked again. "Now what?"

Jordan stared back at her. "I told you."

"No," She said. Her brows knitted as she slid off him and poured herself into his side. "I don't want to just sit here. I want to help."

Jordan cocked his head to one side. "What can you do?"

"I can help you find him."

"How?"

"I know things. I heard Kevin say things. About places."

"Tell me."

"Well, I can't just tell you. You have to tell me what you know and I can fill in the blanks." She grinned at him. Jordan shook his head at her. She may have teased him about delusions of heroism, but she was just as bad. As long as he knew her, Robin wanted to 'play with the boys' - be in on 'it'. She had a flare for the dramatic not justified by a history in espionage.

"Fill in the blanks. Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?"

She laughed. "Shut up. Don't blow me off. I want to help."

Jordan stared at her. He knew she wanted to help. She and her personal life was just as involved as Jordan's. It would be difficult to just stand by and just let this whole thing concluded and not be a part of it. Just so, he knew he couldn't do it. The thought of her being in danger, frightened him. He had, after so many years, gotten her back. He didn't want to risk losing her again.

"It's too dangerous. You might get-" The sentence died incomplete as Robin leapt back onto his chest.

"Oh, Jordan," she said, "Don't be like that. Don't get all protective on me, OK? I'm going to help you and that's final. Got it?"

"Got it." Fighting proved pointless. At least now he would know where she was.

"Besides," Robin sat tall with her fingers caressing his chest, "I know things no one else does. I did date Kevin for years."

Jordan groaned. "Did you have to remind me of that?"

"Oh, please." Her head cocked. "What, you stayed celibate, all these years, waiting for me?"

"Maybe." The word wasn't out of his mouth before he broke into a broad grin.

"Liar!" Robin said as she smashed a nearby pillow into Jordan's face repeatedly. He tore it from her grasp and with something out of judo, flipped himself back on top. They laughed. When the laughter died, Robin reached for Jordan and pulled him close.

"Jordan." The voice was low. Emotion resonated with the word. "There's something I have to say."

"No you don't."

"Don't argue with me, just listen. Tonight. This...what we did. I don't want you to think it was just because you saved my life." She nodded her head and tried to fight a smile. "Well, OK, it is because you rescued me. I guess you deserved a reward."

Silently the two lovers smiled at each other.

"But, no, I want you to know that, I wanted this. I wanted you. Jordan, I've thought of you almost every day. And, quite frankly, I've hated you every day."

Jordan's head dropped at hearing that, but Robin pulled it up by his chin. "Oh, no, baby. Don't do that. I did hate you. But you know what - I'm tired of hating you. I'll tell you a secret. I've wanted you since I saw you at Unlimiteds. And I hate to admit it, but that night you came by my apartment...I hoped that...well, you know. Yeah, I figured that would put a smile on your face."

She sighed deeply. Jordan got the distinct impression she was going to say something important. "OK," she coached herself. "here goes: Jordan, you are my first love. And no matter what, that will never change. I don't want to hate you and I'm not going to anymore. No matter what." A pause. "I guess what I'm saying is, I love you, Jordan. I always have and I always will."

Jordan didn't even know he was crying until a tear landed on Robin's cheek. Apparently, its touch broke Robin's will and she started crying. Tears streaming.

"I love you, too, Bird."

Robin smiled at the sound of her old nickname. Another caress to his face, "Of course you do. You're Jordan Noble."

He wasn't quite sure how to take her last comment but he was sure it wasn't an insult. He leaned into her and they shared a passionate kiss. Robin's eyes rolled as they broke off.

"Man, your kisses always made me dizzy."

"I know. I remember."

"Don't get cocky, mister," Robin smiled. Another kiss. She looked over at the clock on the dresser next to the bed. It was 2:45.

"What time do we need to get to your office?" she asked.

"Seven. Why?"

"Well, I think we have enough time."

He didn't know if he could stand anymore revelations. "Time for what?"

Her legs wrapped around his waist. "Time for you to make love to me again, Mr. Noble. You have a lot of catching up to do."

Just before dawn, he slipped out of the bed. More of his training came into play and he stood without a sound. He looked back and Robin, hair thoroughly tossed and splayed out as if she had collapsed unconscious, remained still. He padded over to the walk-in closet. Deep in the back, a single black garment bag hung. He drew it out and headed for the master bath beyond the closet. Once inside, he closed the door and hung the bag on a hook attached to the back. Almost ceremoniously, he unzipped the bag – the opening, a steady rip of metal teeth disengaging. Within was a blue Canali single-breasted suit. The Italian designed menswear had impeccable construction and distinctive details – two real horn buttons and tone-on-tone chalkstripe. The sweat and toll of the artisans who formed this ensemble was evident in each square inch.

Jordan never wore this suit. He bought it at the Canali Boutique on I Street in Washington DC. The day after his court martial. He was found innocent, still he felt the need to show them – to show the Air Force what he had become. The details of his dismissal are unimportant. He had done his job as always with the best interest of the nation at heart. Unfortunately, what Jordan thought of as the nation's interest differ from his betters at the Defense Intelligence Agency. He was right, he knew this. But somehow, the suit was tainted and a big three-thousand-dollar symbol of everything he had lost.

Until today. It felt right. He had purpose and meaning and he should look the part. He partnered the suit with a white cotton shirt, also from Canali and a pair of black leather half brogue.

He was completing the knot of a light gray tie when Robin appeared in the door. He glanced to her. She found an old Air Force T-shirt of his and apparently nothing else. She smiled with a pride a woman only felt for her man. He turned to her, presenting the full view.

"Looking good," she said.

"Feeling good."

And well he should. It was a long time but he had finally come into his own. He was the man he was supposed to be. He was Jordan Noble, the UrbanKnight.
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Maiden Among Knights

The Vette carried them to the UrbanKnights office on Jefferson. Traffic during the morning rush made the ten-minute trip twice as long. Jordan guided the car into his reserved parking space.

"You own this?" Robin asked as Jordan opened the door for her. She had resisted the top of the sweat suit he selected for her the night before, instead keeping with the T-shirt she uncovered. The logo of the Missile Wing from Minot Air Force Base deformed around the curve of her left breast thanks to the knot she tied at the shirt's rear.

"Yes, and more." A smile was in his eye.

"Mmm, so how much is it after you split it in half?"

He ignored her. The sex and the meeting of the minds were great, but it was a little too early in the relationship to be talking about asset division.

They entered through the rear of the building. After passing a kitchen, they emerged in the cubicle farm. Ms. Brown in a black dress, had her back to them, a portable device in her hands. At the sound of their approach she turned. Normally cool as December at the North Pole, Ms. Brown arched eyebrows moved up at the sight of Jordan's companion. To her credit, a second hadn't turned before she got herself under control. Her eyes traveled down Robin's slim frame from top to bottom. Robin didn't break stride and pretended to not notice the woman.

"Elevator's this way?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jordan said. "Give me a second." He stopped next to Ms. Brown and pretended to be doing something official.

"That's Robin Summers." He monitored her reaction. Everyone knew of Robin, mostly from the good-natured ribbing by E-Man and the others. Jordan was beginning to think the rest of the agency believed Robin was a product of the team's imagination given how fantastic some of the stories were.

Ms. Brown glanced over to the doors of the elevator where a patient Robin Summers waited. In a voice trying hard to convey no interest, she said, "Hmph. So, you one of them brothers who like skinny women, huh?"

The elevator dinged and the question went unanswered. In the car, Robin turned to him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" he said.

She folded her arms. "I saw how you were looking at her."

He shook his head. "You have got to be kidding. You saw that woman? The pope would turn around and look."

Her head swiveled. "I think you'll be making that up to me later."

The doors came open and the Special Investigation Unit's single hallway appeared. The live version of Sade's "Smooth Operator" filled the air.

At the center point, Mrs. Steed was at her crescent desk. She was busy with something and she didn't even look up at Jordan and Robin's arrival.

She said, "Mr. Noble, the others are in your office. They had been there for a least an hour. And Mr. – Oh!"

Robin's appearance killed anything Mrs. Steed might have said. A flush formed in her cheek and Jordan knew wedding plans swirled in her gray-haired head.

"Oh, my," Mrs. Steed said, hand to chest. "Do excuse me. I didn't expect anyone...I mean..."

"This is Robin Summers." Jordan said, rescuing his personal assistant, "She's here helping us with a case."

"How do you do?" Robin asked. Mrs. Steed reached and shook Robin's extended hand. The two left the desk. Jordan looked back and gave Mrs. Steed a wink. He mouthed the words 'I have to call my mother.' Mrs. Steed sighed.

Jordan entered his office to find the other UrbanKnights huddled at his desk. Their heads came up as one. True to form, Malcolm was the first have something to say.

"Well, I hope we didn't wake you too early. We're only trying to – Holy shit!" Robin struck Malcolm speechless. Don Ross was also taken aback. His lips pursed – a dramatic response for him. E-Man, meanwhile folded his arms across his chest and shook his head at his partners. Both Malcolm and Don came up to Robin.

"Damn," Malcolm said, "Robin Summers! It's been a minute."

Of the bunch, Robin knew Malcolm the least. She knew he was one of Jordan's boys but the number of times they were in the same room could be counted on one hand. Unlike Don and E-Man, Malcolm never attended Michigan State.

"Malcolm, right?" she asked. Malcolm nodded and they shook hands. Don came up next. She opened her arms wide for the big man and the two fell into a hug.

"Don Ross, you still hanging with these losers?"

"Yeah. They need me." His quiet, shy nature was a part of his charm.

E-Man rose from Jordan's chair, making room for its owner. He met Robin's eyes and she turned away. He dropped them off the night before so little doubt existed as to where she spent her evening. And given her brighter mood, little doubt as to how she spent it.

"OK." Jordan sat, ready to begin the investigation. "Let's table this reunion 'til later. Didn't you say something about work, Scooter?" Jordan got the stink eye from Malcolm. He was only kidding but he was throwing his 'rank' around.

"Oh, don't be so bossy, Jordan." Robin smiled at him. Don and Malcolm chuckled. Jordan put his lips close to Robin's ear.

"Don't do that," he said firmly. His voice was a whisper but no doubt his meaning was heard. Robin popped back like she was struck. Just as quickly, her features softened. She gripped his arm and whispered back. "OK, baby."

They all moved back to the desk. Jordan could see his friends had been reviewing their surveillance work from the past few days. The desk was covered with printouts, laptops, photos and other portable devices thrown in for good measure.

"Geez," Jordan said, "glad we got the wi-fi working. Is this everything?" He turned to his right for an answer from E-Man. Instead he got his partner's grinning mug.

"What?"

E-Man whispered, "So, um, how'd it go last night?"

"I'll tell you later, OK?"

"Did you get some?"

"Mmm, hmm." Jordan lifted an iPad as if engrossed in its screen.

"Don't brag, baby, it's so unbecoming." From the opposite side, Robin's lips to his ear.

Jordan sprang back. He had a protest ready, but Robin defused him with a smile. He felt a flush of embarrassment, but like she had allowed him his little victory a moment ago, it was his turn to submit to her. An old familiar feeling filled him. They were a team again. A little give here and little take there. Like no time at all had passed.

Don and Malcolm took the leather chairs before the desk while E-Man just bore down from his place at Jordan's side. Robin left without a place to sit, pushed her way between Jordan and the desk and sat in his lap. The men exchanged looks. When Robin gave no notice to their reaction at the breach of protocol, Jordan bounced his shoulders and went on with the investigation.

"OK, what ya got?" Jordan asked.

Malcolm said, "First, one-man raid on a house full of armed dudes? Yeah, we are definitely revisiting the whole Black James Bond thing."

"Jason Bourne," Don said.

Jordan rolled his eyes. "It's classified. Usual threats apply."

Malcolm paid no mind. "OK, we been trying to put together some clues as to where Cody Random could be meeting his buyers. We figured that since he was using Small, he must be using something that Small was familiar with."

Robin gripped Jordan's left hand at the mention of her now dead ex-lover. He squeezed it back. "You guys know about Small, right?"

E-Man stretched. "I told 'em. It also made the news. There's reports of 'strange sounds' and a white van showing up an hour or so later."

Jordan lowered his chin. "And said van...?"

A broad E-Man style grin formed. "Probably best if you don't know. I just hope you didn't leave anything valuable in the back seat."

Jordan nodded. His voice became grave. "Akio?"

"A sudden visit to Wright-Patt to see her old man, the retired Master Sergeant. At two o'clock in the morning." E-Man leaned in. "Yet another reason to love his son-in-law."

Before Jordan could respond, Robin said, "Wait. E-Man's...married?"

Malcolm barked a laugh. "All we need is locust and it will be the sign of the end of all things."

Ha, ha." E-Man threw a nearby pen at Malcolm. "Let me know when you're all grown up and daddy will teach you how to talk to girls." Laughter erupted.

Robin shook her head. "It's a frat house up in here."

Jordan cleared his throat. "We get the job done. So, something Small was familiar with?"

Don said, "It's nothing Small owned. All he got is his house, Unlimiteds and the warehouse."

"Well, not the warehouse." E-Man added with a smile, referring to its earlier destruction.

"And technically, he didn't own Unlimiteds," Malcolm said. "That was a joint venture with Robin here." He tossed her a smile in an attempt to be charming.

"He doesn't own anything," Robin said, "he's dead." Laughter may have sounded but she was still processing. Jordan had a few lovers in his day, but none of them tried to kill him. There was the girl whose name started with 'J'...but he was sure it was an accident.

"Well, anyway," Malcolm said, "we're pretty certain none of these places are where Random's going. Too public. Too attached with Small." He turned to Robin and looked over his glasses. "Even though he's dead. Still why have a connection if you don't need one."

Don said, "We expanded our search to places he may have some ties to -"

"Friends' places. People who owed him money. People he owed money."

"And with Jackie's help," Don finished for Malcolm, "got a list of what facilities would be needed to make more crush, we came up with this." He slid the tablet he held to the center of the desk. The open screen was an Excel file of the names and owners of various properties around the Detroit area.

"I got a theory about that," Jordan said.

"Of course, you do," E-Man said. Don and Malcolm exchanged glances as if they weren't expecting Jordan to add anything. Jordan looked around the room before continuing. "Let's start at the beginning..."

"Big Paul?" Don said.

E-Man sucked air between his teeth. "No. The CIA."

Jordan got Robin by the waist as he stood. She replaced him in the chair as he paced over to the windows. He put his back to the bullet-proof glass. "So, our friendly neighborhood spooks drop by to warn us that Cody Random is all fast and furious to kill me."

"Spooks?" Don asked.

Malcolm bounced his shoulders. "Spies. Operatives. Intelligence Agents. Not a black slur."

"Oh," Don said.

"Told you he was Black James Bond."

Jordan popped up off the glass. "I ain't telling you no more, Scooter."

"Relax, man." E-Man held up his hands, playing peacemaker. He looked at Malcolm. "Jordan was an ethics instructor at the Defense Intelligence Agency. Even that was a top-secret position. He worked with spooks, so...you know." Malcolm nodded to the explanation but the wheels in his head were turning. E-Man gave Jordan a wink and he went on.

"Anyway, my point is this. For a guy hell bent on trying to kill me, he hasn't been focusing too much energy on it."

"He did burn down a building to try and kill us," Don said.

Jordan stroked his chin. "That was almost a window of opportunity – one we opened. We came to him, as it were. But what has he done since then?"

The team thought for a moment. "There was Cobo," Malcolm said.

"Again, we came there. Cody was already planning to be there to hand off the sample to Kevin. Once that went tango uniform, he made a move to get the sample back from Jack at the hospital."

Don's mouth opened but before he could speak, E-Man said, "Tango Uniform: tits up. Military talk for dead or screwed up." He bounced his shoulder. "You know Jordan, sometimes he forgets he's not in the Air Force anymore and is a regular brother."

Jordan frowned. "His plan was, like all fucked up and shit. Is that better?" To a man, the UrbanKnights leaned back in their seats, nodding.

"Yeah, that's better," E-Man said.

A grin snaked across Jordan's face. "I hate you guys. Still, my point remains. I mean, seriously, I'm not hiding. Do a google search and my damn picture is right on the front page of the UrbanKnights website."

Malcolm gestured. "He kidnapped Robin."

"Only after we interfered with his operations. Think about it: if getting to me was a priority, he could have come after Robin the second he knew about the connection to me."

"So, what you saying?" E-Man asked. He folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm saying that first and foremost is crush. Selling it. Making it – whatever. I'm just a bonus."

E-Man wandered away from the desk. He turned back around wagging his finger. "I don't know, man. That file from the CIA. It was the Serial Murder Digest, subject: Jordan Noble. Homie is all kinda obsessed with you."

Jordan walked toward E-Man. "Yeah, see I was thinking that too. So, something very overwhelming must be keeping Random focused on the crush."

"Something like what?" Malcolm was on his feet. "I didn't see the scary file but from what you said, he really wants to pop your ass. What could keep him from that?"

"Something powerful." The horn of Miles Davis went into 'Miles Ahead' and the room was so silent it was like a solo for the jazz giant.

"The CIA," Robin said. Jordan had a smile for her, but she was of no mind to accept it. The winkles in her forehead and agape mouth told the tale of fear. Jordan looked over to Don and Malcolm and they had darting eyes and diverted glances. E-Man, conversely stood ramrod straight. His lips were tight and head shook a little. Jordan read his mind. The government. The one thing they agreed to not get involved with.

"Remember when I said, I'd chew you out later?" E-Man asked.

Jordan held up a hand. "No need. This is our fight only to a point. No Rambo here, feel me?"

E-Man shook his head. "Nope."

"Ten minutes."

E-Man hands swept out. "Do your thing, professor."

Jordan nodded and went back to the desk. "OK, so he's got to finish this sell – this demonstration somewhere. I'm thinking this list of yours is places he can continue production."

"Hold on, hold on." Don's hands came up. "Why is the CIA involved in drugs?" Jordan was just a hair too slow to stop Malcolm.

"Are you kidding? Do you know that the drug trade is so prolific because of the United States government support of the various cartels? And this support is managed and controlled by the Central Intelligence Agency?"

Behind his glasses, Don's eyes tightened. "Are you sure?"

Malcolm looked like he would explode. He drew in a long breath, ready to launch the next tirade, but Jordan cut in this time. "Whatever the case, this seems a little clumsy even for the CIA, Right, Malcolm?" The warning signs of Malcolm's immediate eruption abated. "I'm less interested in who Cody is working for than where he might be."

E-Man appeared at Jordan's shoulder. "Why?"

Jordan stood up and faced his friend. "So I can tell the cops where to get him." E-Man's eyes did something – a twitch. Jordan had caught him off guard. He put his hand on E-Man's shoulder. "This ain't our case and frankly we wasted enough time on it." He looked to his friends at the desk. "I'm not risking our lives over this anymore. My interest is in the fact Cody kinda wants to kill me. If I can take this fool off the board without having the shootout at the OK Corral, I'm good with that."

Don leaned to Malcolm. "OK Corral?"

Malcolm shook his head. "It's a cowboy thing."

Jordan was more interested in Robin's reaction. He sat at the edge of the desk near her. She had held her head down since coming to the conclusion that the principle spy agency for the most powerful country in the world may have been involved in her kidnapping. Jordan touched her shoulder and she flinched, eyes rocketing to his.

"You all right with this, Bird?"

Her answer didn't come right away. She chuckled and ran her hand through her ponytailed hair. "Never a dull moment with you, huh, Jordan Noble?"

He squeezed her hand. "Wait 'til the weekend." They laughed.

"Just as long as he pays," she said firmly. "He and that fool Kevin turned my world upside down."

E-Man clapped his hand. "Works for me. So what? The list?"

Don grabbed the tablet from the center of the desk. "OK, like I said, what I got is a list of facilities Cody might be at -"

E-Man took the device out of Don's hands. "And how did you get this list?"

"Well, like I said, Jackie was able to identify the materials, chemicals and equipment that Random would need to make his crush. From there I used an algorithm -"

"Ak!" E-Man put his palm in Don's face. "Geek talk. I don't need to hear any of that." Don frowned. Robin reached and took the tablet out of E-Man's grip.

"Jackie?" She turned to Jordan. "Is that the same girl you had a thing for in college?"

"I wouldn't call it a thing," Jordan said. He was beginning to wonder if the trust and blind loyalty from surrounding himself with close friends outweighed the professionalism he'd get from strangers. He drew a breath to speak but Robin was faster.

"This is it."

She leaned forward into the tablet and dragged her finger across the screen. Eyes locked in fierce intensity. "Oh, yeah," she said, more to herself. "This is it."

"How can you be so sure?" E-Man asked.

Robin turned to him. "Last Christmas, me and Kevin drove by here. He said that was going to be the next big thing. It was going to change our...his life." She looked around at the men. "He was always like that. Like he knew when something big was going to happen before everyone else."

Jordan looked over her shoulder. "Kevin and I," he said as she released the tablet to him.

"Whatever, grammar police..." came from under her breath.

Jordan ignored her comment and focused on the page. It was an address on Woodward in downtown Detroit. The location was called Premier Medical Supply Corporation. Jordan formed a mental picture. It was at one of the stops of the People Mover. The monorail public transportation system designed to draw people back downtown. The notion was, if it was an easy way for shoppers, tourist, etc. to move around downtown, people would flock. At each of the stops along the People Mover's route, business would spring up. These stops were to be centers from which an ever-growing circle would grow. Turns out, it was just ahead of its time. The handwriting was on the wall, however, and with the construction of the new football and baseball stadium completed, Detroit's downtown was on its way to a rebirth.

"I know where this is," Jordan said, "It's not too far from here. Block or so south of the Fox." Nods went around the table. The Fox Theatre was a Detroit landmark on Woodward Avenue older than any of them or their parents. He passed the device to Don. "Tell me about this Premier Medical. How does it fit in your algorithm?"

"Geek talk!" E-man had moved over to the couch by the window. His comment was ignored.

Don played with the tablet. Once he got his answer, he cleared his throat. "Charles Tate."

"And he is...?"

Don said, "Well, he was in New York the same time as Small, and..." a pause, for dramatic effect, "he does have a rap sheet."

Jordan cocked his head to one side, "Let me guess, drug trafficking."

"No, insurance scams, but Charles Tate does own Tate Enterprises and one of his employees is Robert Fields. A security guard."

Jordan said, "Not seeing any dots connecting."

Don smiled. He enjoyed his own cleverness and the attention he got. "Robert Fields and Kevin Small had the same address for eighteen months. Same gas and phone bill address, too."

"Lovers?" Malcolm asked.

"Um, I can pretty much guarantee that's a no," Robin said.

Don said, "He's also the building manager for Premier Medical's building. Controls entry and exits. Plus, he's got a record too."

Everyone said together, "Drug trafficking."

Don leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "Yup."

Robin smiled victoriously at Jordan. "Well, I'm no detective, but that seems like a lot of coincidences to me."

"There are no coincidences in this business," E-Man said, unknowingly echoing Jordan's earlier thought.

Jordan found himself agreeing. But still, it was just a bunch of facts that happened to fit a theory. He liked it. It was really good, still, it was just as possible Random was meeting in a McDonald's. Anything and everything was possible. He had to make a call and given all the facts at his fingertips, this was a good call.

"OK," Jordan said after an eternity of silence, "load up the van."

"No van," E-Man said. He was tossing up and down a round knick knack serving as a decoration on the coffee table. Jordan fumed silently.

"Well, what do we have?" His voice went up in volume.

E-Man caught the ball and placed it back in its original position. He leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Jerome's truck's still downstairs. Think Ms. Brown got the keys."

Jordan smiled wickedly. "Perfect. That guy owes me at least the cost of a truck for as long as he took setting up this wi-fi." Jordan turned to Malcolm. "I'll need some listening gear. Long range stuff. Don, get one of the computer rigs with software to clean up and record anything the listening stuff can pick up."

"You got it, boss," Malcolm said for the both of them and they left. E-Man caught Jordan by the arm.

"I know you said we're just gonna verify Cody's there, but I think I'll get supplies, too...just in case."

Jordan smiled. "Thanks, man."

E-Man took a step back. He looked Jordan up and down. "So, is that the Canali suit?"

Jordan lifted his chin an inch. "Yeah. Figured it was time."

"Figured right. Looking good, bruh." E-Man flashed a broad grin and turned to leave. Jordan stood still for a moment just looking at the door. He was waiting for the doubt and misgiving to descend on him but nothing came. His chest swelled. Confidence was his only companion now. Robin stood close to Jordan. She gently kissed him.

"Thank you for trusting me," she said.

Jordan took her by the shoulders. He drowned in her eyes for a few seconds. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he ever saw. He committed it to memory as he knew it would be a long time before he saw it again.

"You're staying here."

The smile, as expected, vanished. Her shoulders tensed in his grip. "Jordan, I thought I told you -"

"Robin, you helped. You did. You're here with us, doing your part. If Cody Random is there, we'll get him. But I shit you not, he is a dangerous man and I will not have you close to him." Her mouth opened, but he cut her off. "Robin, you can hate me if you want, but dammit, this is the way it is." Her eyes dropped. "E-Man told the fellas that bullshit about me being an instructor but I told you the truth. He and I are trained for this and we're keeping our distance." It was quiet again. He tightened his hold on her. She responded, looking back to him. The bottom lip jetted out and the soft mocha eyes looked as if any moment tears would form.

Jordan felt his heart break a little, but knew this was the moment to be strong. The point of impact, the end of the chase was very exciting, but dangerous. He felt no joy jumping into it. But he had to end his involvement. He'd turn over Cody Random to the authorities and let them handle it. If she wanted to be there to see them slap the cuffs on Cody, feel some kind of victory, she would just have to get over it. He was OK spending the rest of his life making it up to her.

"Robin," The words were hushed. "I need to know we're OK."

"We're OK." If an award for most insincere answer existed, she'd be giving her acceptance speech. But the team was waiting and Cody was known for his ability to escape the law. He'd just have to deal with her later.

"Look, just wait for us here. I don't know how long this will take, but...just stay here, please."

"OK." Again the insincerity dripped.

"Promise me."

Robin sighed deeply, lifted her eyes to meet his.

"I promise, Jordan."

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Pieces Come Together

The People Mover click-a-clacked to its Woodward Avenue stop. Young Alexia Gorkuta looked up at the building. A native of Poland visiting her grandparents, she wasn't use to the larger buildings in an American urban center. She slipped out of her grandmother's hand and pressed her nose to the window of the car. Slacked jaw, she gazed up at the old brownstone building. She saw a man in a huge window a floor above the tracks of the People Mover. She waved as the People Mover moved on its rounds. Cody Random waved back.

~

Random turned from the window. The location was perfect. Maybe something was to be said having this benefactor after all. Random looked over a sea of medical equipment of every type and size imaginable. All sealed in protective transparent sheaths atop white work benches which in turn set on white tile floors. The room with the extra tall ceiling had white walls as well, creating at least the feeling of a clean and sterile environ. This single room almost occupied the entire seven hundred square feet of the floor, only the smallest amount dedicated to offices and facilities needed in any business. Such a pristine space seemed somehow sullied by its current occupants.

The plan for Premier Medical was to be a revolution in medical research. Going to be. It's concept was low cost operation by subdividing more expensive research. So, instead of finding the cure to cancer, Premier would focus on one aspect, say data collection. In theory, a larger entity like a hospital could purchase the data and be spared sinking dollars, time and resources into something quite frankly isn't what a hospital is good at. It was a fine concept. If it wasn't complete bullshit. Premier was just a shell company buying equipment and locations, holding them, then when the market demand increases, selling those items to interested parties. It was an old story – buy low, sell high. And right now, Detroit real estate was still low. Change, it was a-coming, but for now, questionable actors like Charles Tate could still jump into the market and come out the other end, millions of dollars richer. In the meantime, this location, its equipment was just what Cody Random needed.

With Cody were three of his men - the disposables. They were needed, of course, but like tissue paper when you have to sneeze you want nothing more – but afterwards, you can't wait to get rid of it. This was Slash's lot. Men of unmistakable low character, capable of physical labor and little else yet always wanting more. If Cody was like them, he would kill them the instant the deal was done. As it was, he would give them no further thought. He'd move on to his next mission and put this whole affair behind him.

And the next mission...oh yes. The death of Jordan Noble. He thought of it and little else for four years. It was so close, he could taste it. But he had to finish this deal. Cody bounced his shoulders and turned back to the window. It was practically the entire north-eastern wall. The city spread out before him. It was still in sad shape but from here he could see the new baseball stadium and a corner of the football field. Below him, some sort of construction on the street below – it ran down the avenue as far as the eye could see, from the river, disappearing somewhat far north in the heart of the city. He imagined it was very exciting and of keen interest to the citizens, yet he couldn't be bothered.

A smudge just at eye-level marred the glass. Cody breathed on it and rubbed it out with the sleeve of his black suit jacket. He was making such an effort to be focused. This deal, this crush, yes, it was important. He had never doubt he was a genius and once he got a venue to test said genius, he experienced success. The CIA drafted him and took his talent and like he was some kind of weapon, aimed him at one mindless project after another. Explosives. Something he conquered as a child, terrorizing bullies and neighborhood cats. But this is what the CIA wanted from him. And since he was a genius, the explosives he gave them were no garden variety. They were more potent. Harder to detect. To be fair, given the clandestine mission of the CIA being unnoticed yet destructive this would be of a high interest. To them, not Cody. Finally, the CIA noticed his ability, his potential and turned him loose on controlled substances – drugs.

Drugs, and their impact on people – now that's what piqued his interest. Since the death of his father, Cody at been at the mercy of other people's interest. Their desires, their wishes. When the men his mother shacked up deemed it worthy to give her money, Cody and his brother ate. And when these same men felt like beating the crap out of him, that happened too. He knew through some means, he would have to be the controller. To make decisions affecting men's lives. Lacking money or power, thanks to his fool of a father, Cody relied on his brain. And a good thing too – his mastery of chemicals allowed him control of drugs and in turn men. Maybe if the CIA had paid him what he was worth – maybe he would have been a good boy and followed the rules. As it was, he would have power again soon – he would be out of the control of his benefactor. And he would hunt Jordan Noble for taking the one thing Cody Random could never get back.

The elevator dinged and out stepped the faithful Slash and one other man. Cody rolled his eyes at the sight of Robert Fields. He was another needed pawn, for just a fleeting time more. But now, the thin black man with the ridiculous designs carved into his hair was going to be a problem. Fields outpaced Slash and speed walked the length of the room to Cody. For his part, Cody clasped his hands behind his back and reminded himself not to kill this fool.

"Where my boy at?" Fields asked as he got to Random. The disposables closed in behind him. Random raised a hand, stilling their violent urges. Robert Fields was an old friend of Kevin Small. Just another link in the chain the benefactor laid out.

Random blinked, then looked around the room. "He's not with you?"

Robert Fields wore an electric blue suit with eight buttons. The shirt was yellow and while he probably thought he looked good, to Cody he was a clown.

"Don't play with me, man," Fields said. "The only reason I got involved with this is my boy vouched for y'all." He raised his head as if his words were a threat. Random didn't brook threats well.

"We're about to get rich. Don't you want to get rich?" Cody cocked his head to one side. Fields matched his gaze, the wheels in his mind turning. When no words came out, Random leaned in closer, eyes blazing.

"Yeah, man," Fields said, eyes sliding away. "Course, I wanna get paid. But -"

"But nothing!" Random shouted. A pair of deep breaths and he continued. "I don't know where your friend is. Things go awry with matters such as these."

Fields screwed up his face. "A-what?"

A third deep breath. "Awry. Wrong. Out of place. In any event, I believe Mr. Small would not want all our hard work to go in vain, right?" Random saw Fields' eyes wandering around, his mind trying to adjust to the new situation. It the midst of his confusion Random added, "Besides, the good family men, who are on their way, won't be so understanding if you bowed out due to your missing friend."

Fields' head bounced up. His eyes were large compared to the calm visage of Random. He dumbly nodded, realizing he was in a penny and a pound. A pound of his flesh, that is. A buzzing came from his jacket pocket.

"Speak of the devil," Random said.

Fields drew his phone and stepped away. He pointed to Random as he walked. "This ain't over, dog." He answered his phone.

Random smiled and straightened his jacket. He looked toward the elevator and Slash had crossed the room. He stopped next to Random.

"You seem ill at ease, my friend," Random said. Slash shook his head. They were an odd pair, these two. Random in his black suit. His long hair was drawn tight at the back of his head. Slash still in the cowboy gear of a long tan duster, blue jeans, t-shirt, and boots. His hair was a wild mess on his head.

"I don't know, Cody," Slash said.

"What?"

Slash sighed. He drew his hand across the whiskers on his chin. "You know these people. They only want to deal with their own kind. We ain't got Small no more."

Random nodded at this. The original plan was for Small to facilitate the closing deal with the buyers. Slash obviously meant African-Americans when he said, 'their own kind'. Nothing could be done about that. Small was dead and that was that.

"We'll have to make due, old man," Random said. He patted Slash on the shoulder to reassure him. As if on cue, one of the disposables called to Random from the window.

"Hey, they're here."

Random, his pace noticeably quicker, walked back to the window wall. He peered down to the ground floor. A late model Mercedes Benz pulled up to the entrance of the building. Fields reappeared.

"You see 'em, right?" he threw his chin out the window. "It's all good. Kevin ain't here, so I'll do the talking. I know these people."

Random tried not to smile. He almost felt sorry for Robert Fields and his delusion of importance. "Whatever you say, Mr. Fields." He gestured for Fields to move to the window. Fields joined the disposables, Random and Slash.

Five stories down, four men exited the vehicle and headed for the building. Soon, everything Random had planned for his entire adult life would bear fruit.

If only Mikey were here. He pushed the thought of his brother from his mind. The time for such things would come later.

He walked away from the window and rapidly went to the elevator on the building's south side. Behind him, Fields came up quickly. Random waved for his disposables. The three men in dusters stood behind him, hands folded before them. Random liked that. The doors would open and the first thing his guests would see is him, flanked by his guards. Yes, very impressive.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened and off stepped four men. Center most was Anthony Pagani. A good family man. He was big, not fat but his suit probably came from a place with Big and Tall in the title. His jet black hair was combed to one side. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and on the lookout for threats. The mouth was a tight line beneath fleshy jowls. The two men flanking him were clearly bodyguards. Tall, lean, dark suits and cupped hands at their sides. The final member of the group wore what looked like clothes he slept in. The bespectacled man had on a wrinkled black shirt and cotton tan pants. A messenger bag crossed his body and in each hand, a large backpack.

They could have been stockbrokers or bankers. Of course, they weren't. They worked for the largest drug cartel in the Midwest. For years, the cartel funneled its 'product' into the inner cities, suburbs, and just about everywhere else imaginable through men like Rob Fields.

Pagani lumbered off the elevator. "So, we just gonna stare at each other. Ain't like I ain't got better things to do." The Italian accent was thick. It could be excused if anyone thought they heard the 'Godfather Theme' being played.

Random came forward. The guard on the right stepped before his principal. Random's hands went up and he took a step back. He drew a breath to speak but Fields beat him to it.

"Mr. Pagani. Hey, it's good...it's good to see you, sir."

Pagani's eyes moved to Fields. They lingered on the man's face for long awkward seconds. Fields straightened his tie and went through the motions of thinking of an intelligent thing to say. He missed his opportunity. Pagani pointed a pudgy digit to Random and eventually his eyes moved in the same direction.

"Robert here, I know. Not well, but through Charlie Tate. Now, Charles, he's a good guy. So, when he tells me he's got a good deal, I'm of a mind to listen. Be nice if Kevin Small were here, but..." Pagani breathed in a long noisy breath. "Now, you...you I don't know."

Random nodded. "Indeed. A friend of a friend as it were."

Pagani wagged his finger. "Uh, uh. A friend of a friend of a friend. I wouldn't go so far as to say Robby here is a friend."

"Ah, c'mon, Mr. Pagani! You know me. I did that thang in New York -" whatever else Fields was going to say, died in his throat at Pagani's icy stare.

"A gentleman doesn't remind another of a favor." Pagani's voice was slow and labored – like each word cost him a measure of life. A measure he wasn't fond of wasting on fools. He turned back to Random. His hand came up. "This is not a good start."

"Agreed," Random said. "Let's to it then. Cody Random. I'm the one who called your man, Charles Tate with an offer. I'm sure you have all the details..."

Pagani nodded. "All the unbelievable details."

Random turned sideways and gestured to the laboratory equipment behind him. "A claim I am now ready to prove. Within these walls is the very product I have promised." He turned back to his guest and pointed at the man laden with bags. "And I can only assume that your man here will verify just that."

For the first time, Pagani smiled. "Straight to the point, huh?"

Random shrugged. "We are doing business."

Pagani chuckled now and wagged his finger again. "I like your style, Random." He shot a thumb at the man with the bags. "This here's Bernie Leone. Nice Jewish kid. Did real good up at MIT. Now, he's working hard to pay off them student loans. When it comes to chemistry, ain't no one smarter."

The introduction done, Leone moved forward to get to work. He stopped as Random held up a palm.

"We are, as you said, not acquainted." Random smiled.

"I'm sure you'll understand if we search you for weapons."

It was like a bell rang. The two guards moved forward between Pagani and Random, their hands close to their belts. Pagani smiled slyly and casually raised his shoulders. Random casted a look over to Slash who made a slight shake of his head. Random pursed his lips and turned back to Pagani.

"I see your point. Perhaps a little personal security will make everyone more at ease."

"Yeah, that could do it," Pagani said.

Random gestured again and Leone passed by him. He went down the row of covered equipment until he stopped a good fifty feet away. He looked back at Random, who figured the man had reached the only station not protected by plastic.

"That is where you'll find the product."

Leone nodded, dropped his bags and got to work.

Pagani and his two guards wandered over to a small seating area near the elevator. He sat but his twin goons maintain vigil.

"I hope this won't take long," Pagani said. He took a piece of mint candy out of his pocket. He unwrapped it and threw it in his mouth. His words were the kindest since he had arrived but his meaning was clear. If he didn't get the answers he expected and soon there'd be hell to pay. Random tossed him a casual wave.

"I suspect no more than an hour. Can I get you anything while you wait?"

Pagani rocked his head, his fat lips spread in a toothless grin. If he were a lesser man Random would panic. But he had nothing to fear. Leone would complete his work and prove the drug was nothing short of a modern miracle. He smiled at his guest and went to a seating area opposite Pagani's position. Slash and the other henchmen joined him. Random was just about the take a seat when Fields rushed to his side.

"Yo, man, we really need to talk about where Kevin at." Fields words hissed in an angry whisper.

Random peered over Fields shoulder to Leone and his party. He smiled to give the impression everything was going smoothly.

"He's not with us," Random whispered. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

Fields face went slack. He stepped back from Random, not quite sure what to do next. "What? What? How can that be?" His voice was a bit too loud and started to echo through the near empty room.

"Quiet!" Random spat through his teeth. "He's gone. Get over it." He sat in the chair, an overstuff leather piece.

Fields opened his mouth but Slash got him by the arm. He put his lips close to Field's ear. "He's dead, all right?"

Fields drew back like he was slapped. His next breath came out in a short gasp. "Are you fucking crazy!" he whispered as much as he could given his shock. "Didn't you hear this man? He don't know me. He knew Tate and Kevin. When he figures out Kevin ain't-"

Random stood smoothly, buttoned his jacket and turned with his back to Pagani's group. More harsh whispers. "Get a hold of yourself, man! Small's dead. There's nothing we can do about that. He was killed by a man named...Jordan Noble. For reasons that are too detailed to go into now, sufficient to say, they didn't like each other very much."

"Jordan Noble?" Fields searched for answers in Random's face.

"Yes. Kevin was screwing Noble's old girlfriend." Random felt his words represented a motive Fields could understand. "Look, you can avenge your friend's death later, I will even help you. But now..." He glanced over his shoulder to Pagani. "Let's. Get. Paid."

They locked eyes and after a handful of seconds, Fields nodded. Random was sure the nonsense over the fate of Kevin Small was over.

Awkward minutes of still passed as they all waited for Leone to finish. Across the elevator lobby Random stared at Pagani. In turn, Pagani just smiled, sucking on his hard candy. He was definitely in the catbird seat. No losing for him today. Either he would get ahold of a new form of cocaine or Random and his bunch would get bullets to the back of the head. Random could use some of the influence of the benefactor but that was impossible. He had to be a mystery. This deal would rise or fail based solely on the efforts of Cody Random.

One hundred and twelve minutes later, Leone walked slowly back to the two opposing groups at the elevators. His footfalls were practically thunder in the otherwise hush of the room. Pagani looked over at his man but not with much interest or excitement. His twin goons made no signs of even being aware of anyone or anything other than their charge. Random also was still - eyes focused, as before, on Pagani - as if the echoing steps were just another sound populating the near empty building. Fields reacted, a half step forward until he noticed no one else had moved. He tried to return to his original position as unnoticeable as possible.

Leone angled to Pagani and breathed out a long sigh. Random crossed over the elevators, figuring now would be the appropriate time to interact.

Pagani twisted in his seat to get a look at Leone. "Well?"

Leone took off his glasses to nursed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how he did it, but he did." His voice betrayed a meekness. Leone may have worked for violent criminal men, but he clearly had no part in that.

"Did what?" Pagani sat up a little straighter, his voice showed no patience.

"Yes, sir," Leone said. He slid his glasses back on, "In simplest terms, this compound is like nothing I've seen before. It clearly has cocaine as its base but something else is added. Some sort of...I don't know how to explain it, but from what I can see, this stuff will attach itself to the user's blood. To make a long story short, instant addiction."

Random stepped in. "The other element is a truth serum. Easily manufactured. I discovered it makes the user more acceptable to the effects of the cocaine."

Pagani's fat round head rotated to Random. The fleshy lips smiled again. "That's very nice, Mr. Random. But I already have an addictive product that is currently making my organization wealthy. Perhaps, you've heard of it; it's called cocaine." Pagani slapped his cheek. "Oh, that's right. You're using cocaine in this...what is it called again?"

"Crush," Leone said.

Random boiled over with anticipation. "Cocaine is indeed very profitable and addictive, as you have mentioned, sir. But," a finger pointed upward, "what if you could inject an additive that would spread your coke supply? What if this additive could triple your supply at pennies on the dollar? That is what I offer, Mr. Pagani. Money is good. More money is better."

Pagani turned to Leone. The man of science nodded. "It's true, sir. I looked over what he's using. It's a compound the CIA and few other state actors use to induce cooperation. It's also true that with the right equipment and know how, it can be cheaply and easily produced. Law officials won't like it, though."

Random said, "I don't think they take kindly to your current operations."

Pagani struggled out of his seat. It took him a few moments and Random noticed his guards and Leone all looked away during the process. Probably something to do with the large man's pride.

"So if this stuff is so cheap," Pagani said after a few huffs and puffs, "what I need you for? I got Leone here to whip up this discount stuff?"

Random shook his head. "And Mr. Leone will tell you he has no idea how I combine the elements of this compound."

Another look at Leone. "He's right, sir. I double checked with my own equipment and ran it against some models off the internet. This compound should not be stable. Again simply, it's like oil and water."

Pagani chuckled for a few moments. He slapped his left guard on the chest as he pointed at Random. "This guy here. So, what? Only you can make this work?"

"Naturally," Random said. The grin was now all his. "But for a small sum, I will supply you with the only source of this wealth."

"A 'small sum'?"

A heartbeat passed before Random answered. "five hundred million dollars. And a percentage."

Pagani threw his head back and roared in laughter. The laughing went on for several seconds. When he stopped he turned to Fields.

"And you brought me to this clown?" Pagani's finger stabbed at Fields who could only stand doing a fish impression.

Pagani turned back to Random. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Five hundred million!"

Random raised a finger. "Plus a percentage. Annually, of course."

"Just like that? On your say-so? You think just because one of our people bring you to me, I'm gonna believe you? Huh? What's the proof that this shit even works?"

"Oh, it works alright. You can trust me on that."

The voice came from across the room - a pair of elevators mirrored the ones they stood at. Everyone turned. Walking toward them, guns drawn, were CIA agents Stiles and Thomas.

Cody Random filled his chest and blew out a long sigh. "Well, this wasn't in the plan."

~

The building on the corner of Woodward and Adams had gone through a lot of changes over the years. Multiple names, multiple owners. For years its doors were closed. Now, with the seemingly increased value to real estate downtown, the structure readied themselves for the most pleasant and welcomed change in over forty years. So, when the call came into the property manager's office requesting a tour of the fourth floor, no hesitation could be found. Real estate agent Arthur Tellur was dispatched and arrived on site at 12:14 PM, just ten minutes before Jerome's red Ford F-150 pulled up to the side entrance on West Adams Street.

Jordan led the way and was confident his Canali suit would allay any fear four African American men bouncing out of a truck may present.

"Mr. Tellur? I'm Jordan Noble, President of Galahad Enterprises." The blonde real estate agent, to his credit, only blinked once before switching to his business persona and took the business card Jordan handed him.

"Er, Mr. Noble? Yes, yes. Good to meet you." Tellur shook Jordan's hand but his eyes were on Malcolm and Don and the bags they carried. Malcolm had a silver case straight out of a spy movie and Don had a backpack and a laptop stuck under his arm.

"We're testing for sound," Jordan said as he tracked where Tellur was looking. Tellur smiled and nodded as the explanation was logical given the building was next door to the Filmore Theatre, a home to a music venue. However, all that went out the window as E-Man walked by with a long bag which suggested either pool cues or something more...lethal. E-Man marched passed Tellur with his usual devilish grin. Jordan interceded again.

"We're doing a lot of testing. New and experimental equipment."

Tellur nodded and guided Jordan inside. They bumbled around looking at incomplete rooms having a variety of roles throughout the life of the building. For the most part, Don, Malcolm and E-Man stood in the fourth floor's single and dark hallway. It wasn't until Tellur opened a door of a room on the building southern side did Jordan show any interest.

"This is it," Jordan said to his team down the hall to them. The men gathered their equipment and filed into the room passed a re-dumbfounded Tellur.

"This is fine," Jordan said, "We need this location for our testing." Tellur looked around. It was once an office but its best days were behind it. The floor boards were loose, wallpaper displaying cutting edge 1970's style fell to the floor, the electricity was non-existed and no telling what the smell was. Tellur started to protest. He turned to Jordan to be greeted by a white envelope.

"It's not fair we use this room without compensation," Jordan said, "Will this cover it?" Tellur opened the envelope with several hundred-dollar bills. He audibly gasped.

"A down payment, perhaps?" Jordan turned his head slightly, trying to get an agreement. Tellur looked over to the other men, who were on the far side of the room, setting up. True to their word, the stuff coming out of the bags were just computers. Tellur sighed.

"I suppose you'll need a few hours..."

"Perhaps the rest of the day," Jordan said. "We'll let ourselves out. I'm prepared to give whatever documentation you need for security."

Tellur nodded. "I, er, I think your documentation is just fine." He slid the envelope into his jacket's inside pocket. "Just, you know, don't break anything."

"Why, Mr. Tellur, whatever do you mean?"

Tellur smiled and left closing the door behind him. Jordan went over and locked it. The room was a dump but it did have exactly what the UrbanKnights' needed – a southern window facing directly at Premier Medical's Woodward Avenue location. Premier was a floor higher than where the UrbanKnights were but it had huge floor to ceiling windows – it actually looked like the windows were two stories high.

"We good?" Jordan asked. Don was on a structure at one point could have been a desk. He was typing furiously at his computer and didn't acknowledge Jordan. Malcolm, meanwhile pulled out some sound amplifying equipment and set it up on the window sill. It was a small black box a little bigger than a home entertainment system's speaker. A label across its side warned of a laser.

"Dunno," Malcolm said over his shoulder. "It's about two hundred feet to the target. Maybe two-fifty." Jordan looked out the open window. Malcolm's estimation was about right. Between their building and Premier Medical was a park surrounded by city streets – roughly two hundred fifty feet.

"Still," Malcolm was pulling some cable out of his bag, "that's a big ass window. Shouldn't have any trouble getting some sound off of that."

Jordan nodded. He turned to E-Man who leaned at the window's side, eyeing the target. He noticed Jordan and burst into a grin.

"Oh, you know I'm good!" Jordan breathed a faint laugh at E-Man's confidence. He had learned over the years to ignore it as E-Man always came through.

"How long you need?" Jordan asked both Don and Malcolm but again only Malcolm responded. "Thirty minutes, give or take." Malcolm stretched his body across the window and slapped Don's arm. Don popped his head up, brows knotted.

"What?" Don said.

"How long you need?" Malcolm asked.

Don shook his head and popped out an earbud from his left ear. EPMD's 'You Gots To Chill' poured out. Like all his friends idiosyncrasies, Jordan had long looked past Don's use of classic Hip-Hop while working.

"What!"

"How long you need, fool!"

Don bounced his shoulders. "Thirty minutes, give or take."

~

Jordan glanced out the window again. A late model Benz pulled up and parked on the northern side of the building. A pair of burly looking men got out followed by a nerd in rumpled clothes and a fat guy.

"We got movement," Jordan said. E-Man came up with a pair of binoculars. He was quiet for several seconds.

"Can't really see," He said, "But they're definitely going in the building."

"Anything else in there?" Jordan asked.

"Couple of stores on the street level," Malcolm said, "but you get to them from the front on Woodward."

Jordan leaned down next to Malcolm. "You need to be finished, like now."

"OK, OK." Malcolm redoubled his efforts. Jordan turned to E-Man.

"You want to go down there," E-Man said.

Jordan said, "There's a restaurant across the street. I can get a street level view." He bounced his shoulders. "Better than sitting here doing nothing."

E-Man shook his head. He pointed at his throat. "Take your mike. Stay in touch."

"Yes, mother."

"Whatever, man." E-Man sighed. He dropped to his knees and opened his long bag. "Guess I better get my stuff ready."

Jordan was already at the door. He smiled back at E-Man. "Thanks. What would I do without you?"

"Get your head blown off. Now get outta here."

~

"What the hell are you doing here!" Cody had tried to keep his cool and immediately regretted shouting. But they were way off script.

A cocky smile played on Agent Stiles' lips, "What's wrong, Random? Miss me?" He and Thomas inched their way across the lab, their weapons switching from person to person in some vain attempt to cover everyone. Only the disposables looked like they might try something. Stiles's eyes came to rest on Pagani. Random noticed the look.

"Mr. Pagani," he started, "Allow me to introduce Special Agents Stiles and Thomas of the Central Intelligence Agency."

"Oh, shit." Pagani's iron clad look of confidence cracked for the first time.

"Oh yes. Special Agent Stiles was one of my -" Random paused and acted as if he was struggling to remember something. "What is the term, Stiles? Oh, yes, handler. Yes, Agent Stiles was my handler as I was developing crush."

"Hey, listen, officer...agent?" Pagani showed Stiles and Thomas his palms. "Look, maybe we can work out a deal mutually beneficial to everyone." He pointed at Stiles. "Hey, my people work with your people all the time. How'd ya like a great big budget increase, huh?"

Stiles laughed but it sounded like a cough. "I ain't here for you, Pagani. But I know you. I'd be remiss not to mention you're being here to one of my sister agencies." He and Thomas stopped. They were twenty feet away from the group at the elevators. Pagani's bodyguards were pros and didn't move an inch – looking for an opening. The disposables, on the other hand, looked like they were seconds from doing something stupid. Stiles kept his focus on Pagani. "It's too bad," Stiles said, "You had yourself a good thing coming."

"Oh, yeah?" Pagani asked.

"Yeah. This crush, it's fucking brilliant. The stuff that dreams are made of. The truth serum that Random here used is a fraction of how much you can make selling this stuff on the street. And here's the kicker: it's so strong – one hit kills the user. So, you'll have to dilute the mixture. Expanding your supply even further! Heh. Damned if I know how he does it."

Random stayed fixed on the Beretta of Agent Thomas, pointed at his chest. He called over his shoulder. "Well, then. I told you as much, Mr. Pagani."

Pagani flashed a hot look at Random. "A fat lotta good that gonna do us now, huh?"

Random felt the flush of victory. He turned around to face Pagani. "Are you convinced now?"

Pagani's fat flabby features expanded to their largest dimensions. "What!" He was a professional criminal in the presence of two CIA agents. Lord knows what was going through his mind – probably something like wishing he had brought more men. Beside him, Leone was almost in tears. "Are you nuts?"

Yes, Cody Random decided. He was crazy. He had a hunger which could not be sated. All men desire for something, it's natural. But they also know, whether or not one wants to admit it, some limit exist to what a man can achieve. The knowledge all desires cannot be satisfied. Pagani surely felt even with all the resources at his command, he couldn't do whatever he wanted. Cody had no such compunction. He narrowed his vision on Pagani and knew the fat gangster saw no limits, no bounds in Cody Random. If this meant he was crazy, Random was OK with that.

Pagani's mouth started working, no doubt thinking of some kind of deal to get him out of this mess. Random decided it was time to spare him the associated heart attack. He swiftly whirled back to the CIA agents.

"And what were you thinking, bringing him here? You'll ruin everything."

"You're right," Agent Thomas said. He altered his aim from Random to the back of Stiles' head, a foot and a half before him. He squeezed off a round. Stiles didn't even have time to be shocked. The bullet ripped through his skull and carried a sizable portion of his brain with it. He was dead before he hit the floor. The surprise could almost be tasted in the room. Leone looked to Pagani and his bodyguard, wondering if this scene made any sense to either of them. Their blank expression told him it didn't. Random turned back to Pagani, his trademark grin on his face.

"Well, now that is over, shall we continue the negotiations?"

"What the hell is going on?" Pagani's voice croaked out at its loudest volume.

"That's what I'd like to know," Jordan Noble said, revealing himself.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Bearding the Lion

The Italian restaurant had been something of a Detroit stable for years, good times and bad. Still, Jordan had never been there. It was a weekday and the business lunchtime crowd had thinned out. He got to the pretty young redhead hostess and she assured him a table facing Woodward wouldn't be a problem. She was true to her word and five minutes later, he was holding a menu, glancing over at the corner building, home to Premier Medical.

Jordan practiced the surveillance technique he mastered over the course of his military career. He was fairly sure the dozen or so other patrons of the restaurant were unaware of his presence, still he maintained a low profile. No sense in staring down the building just because he was in Detroit and not Dubai. At that moment, it occurred to him – his skill set, as a former operator, outside of E-Man, was possessed by less than a dozen men, if that, in the state. He chuckled. Now, no longer feeling sorry for himself, he knew the impact he could have. On this city and its people. Suddenly, it was the Air Force's loss.

The waitress appeared at his side. He told her he was waiting for friends. He knew he wouldn't be ordering anything and he didn't want her constantly coming back to check on him. When he had to leave, he'd just say they canceled.

"Anything while you wait?" she asked.

"Just coffee." She nodded and went off. Before she could get two steps, he called her back. She smiled, perhaps a bit confused. Jordan's mind went to the past. How he and E-Man would travel through England after an overseas assignment. While there, his liaison officer from the British Security Service, MI-5 introduced him to another drink. He hadn't drank it since the court martial.

"Make that tea. Earl Grey. You do have it?"

"Yes, sir."

It only took a few minutes for the waitress to return with the tea. Jordan doctored it up with honey but forgone the traditional lemon. It flowed warm into him and it felt like coming home.

"Oh, yeah."

A voice crackled in his ear. "Jordan? You read?"

He checked around and no one was looking his way. "I got you, E. What's up?"

"The laser mic is up. Getting some background conversation."

"Random?"

"Could be. Can't really tell. Room's all echo-y." E-Man paused. Jordan was about to ask if he was still there, when he came back on line. "Two more people just rolled up. I think you'll be real interested in who. You should see them now."

Jordan almost came to his feet. Agents Stiles and Thomas entered his line of sight for just a moment as they walked from the rear of the building and into a side door.

"What the fuck, over?"

"Yeah," E-Man said, "I'm gonna give you that one."

Jordan heard the quip but his mind was somewhere else. Or, more correctly on someone else. Robin had concluded the powerful entity barring Random's revenge was none other than the CIA. These CIA agents to be precise. He was a mind to agree with her. If Stiles and Thomas were in on it, was a part, or worse, the guiding force behind this whole mess, they're being here could put an end to any chance of ending this affair with the authorities. A pair of CIA agents trumped the guesses and theories of a private detective agency. He bit his knuckle. They could be in there, right now, with a suitcase of money or some other cliché, laughing manically like super villains. Or it could be a shootout between the CIA spooks, Random and whoever the fat guy, nerd and suits were. He wanted to know. He needed to know.

The waitress appeared from nowhere. Jordan jumped at her voice.

"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?"

Jordan stared dumbly at her. In his ear, E-Man spoke.

"Go on up. I got your back."

~

"I think I've something of an idea what's happening," Jordan said, "Maybe you can fill in the blanks."

Jordan exited the stairwell adjacent to the elevators Stiles and Thomas came. His P7M trained on Random's head. He kept an eye on Thomas just the same. The young agent no longer looked like the rookie who walked into Jordan's office days ago. His face was dark and twisted now, an extension of his soul. Cold bloodied murder will do that to a person.

"So how about it, Cody" Jordan asked, "What's the story?"

Random was cool on the surface, but Jordan knew better. The slight tremor below his eye told the tale of a cauldron of emotions - shock, rage, and confusion. He didn't want to, but Jordan felt a warm glow.

"Can't figure how I got here, huh?" Jordan asked.

Random rocked his head – unbeckoned admiration. "Oh, you've cease to amaze me. I know you're full of surprises. Didn't you just last night do the unexpected and rescue Robin Summers? Yes, you have a knack of doing exactly what you're not supposed to." He nodded and Jordan returned the gesture. A few trying second slipped by and Random smiled and chuckled. "Ah, Major Noble, so good to see you."

"Can that 'Major' crap," Jordan said, "That's the past, get over it." He turned to Thomas. "I half-expected Stiles to be involved in all this - not you."

Thomas snorted a laugh. He dropped his weapon. "You underestimated him and me. Stiles was a big boy scout. He was all about the 'good of the nation'." Thomas spat out the last part.

"So, what you in it for?" Jordan asked.

"The money, man. The money." He rotated toward Jordan and the two men were face-to-face. "See, when I was partnered with Stiles, I reviewed his cases. Standard procedures. I came across Cody Random and his crush and I saw the money-making potential. Crush could make me rich. But Stiles would have none of that."

Random spoke and Jordan switched his eyes to him, "You see, Mister Noble, our young Agent Thomas had vision. A vision that Stiles lacked. Stiles was no doubt happy to allow me to rot in the prison you put me in -"

"You put yourself in," Jordan corrected.

"Just so." Random made a short, mocking bow. "To continue, Thomas saw that a great opportunity was to be had. So, he contacted me in prison and offered a deal – my freedom for the crush."

"Only, Random didn't come so cheap," Thomas said. Jordan knew what they were doing. They were trying to divide his attention. Hoping for an opening someone could take advantage of – Random, Thomas, one of the guards, anyone. A chance to take out Jordan. Everyone in the room was getting edgy looking for a break. Jordan took aim and fired in the general direction of Pagani's bodyguard. The shot got everyone's attention and froze the criminals in their places.

Jordan smiled. "Sorry, please go on."

The sudden discharge of the firearm made Thomas pause, so Random took over the narration. "In order for me to work with Agent Thomas, there were some things I needed, namely you. I wanted you dead." Random paused for effect. Jordan's expression remained flat. "I needed to get to Detroit, since you were there. And I needed someone who could get in contact with a buyer for my crush. But someone small, pun intended, to avoid attention."

"Kevin Small," Jordan said. He turned to Thomas. "And what, you provided this name because of his connection to Robin."

Thomas's lips curled. "CIA's got a file on you. It was easy."

"Exactly. I was introduced to Mr. Pagani's organization through the now deceased Mr. Small, thanks to you." At the last part, Random turned to a black guy in a clownish blue suit. He swelled his chest in a display of anger. Jordan ignored the reaction, sure that it was some kind of head game by Random.

"Pagani and his friend, the good Mr. Leone, here, were willing to assist me after a display of good faith." Random broke into an evil smile, "To that end, I eliminated a...competitor of his, Donald K. Warrington."

Jordan sighed. The pieces were sliding together.

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Pagani said, "I want to talk to my lawyer."

"Shut up!" Jordan shouted.

Thomas said, "It was a good deal. Kevin Small got to be the big shot he always wanted to be, Pagani's bunch got a hot new product and one less competitor, Random got to get out and kill you and me – I get rich."

Jordan snapped his head in Thomas's direction. "At what cost! Do you know who's going to get the first shot at 'cheap drugs'? Us! Black folks, like you and me! You idiot, you sold out your own people!"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Spare me the Martin Luther King bit. My own kind? I've got nothing to do with people who do drugs, white, black, yellow – whatever! Do you know what I had to do to get where I am in the CIA? Harvard! Four years of law school! A spotless record! I earned it, dammit. Not because I was black, but because I earned it!!"

Jordan's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

Thomas shook his head. He took a step forward, but Jordan convinced him to select another course of action by making his aim a little straighter.

"I was nothing to them," Thomas said. "Nothing I did was ever enough. I knew then that only way to be somebody...to be powerful, was to be rich. By any means. Normal guy commits a crime and gets caught, he's going down. Fortune 500 CEO can rip off the company for millions, screw people out of jobs, rape the prom queen and no one even bats an eye. You know why? Money! I saw crush, and I knew it would make me rich. I saw my chance and I took it!" Thomas breathed hard. He was committed to his ideas. Every word he said was pure gospel to him.

Jordan scoffed. "You were with the CIA for less than a year. What did you expect from them, to make you the director? Damn! I'm so sick of you goddamned 'Negroes' who think their shit don't stink! You went to Harvard and you think everyone owes you something. You got to pay your dues just like everyone else. It's called life, boy! Deal with it. You think you the first brother to get screwed over. Remind me to tell you about Minot sometime."

Thomas trembled as Jordan railed. He moved in a tight circle where he stood. Finally, the frustration found an outlet. "Fuck you!"

Jordan nearly jumped out of his skin he was so angry. He focused on the fallen government agent. "Fuck me? Fuck me! You stupid son of a bitch! I got a good mind to cap your worthless ass right now!"

"I don't think so," Random said softly.

Jordan felt as though he had been ripped from a dream. He had, for a moment, truly forgotten about Random and the rest. He immediately paid for that error in judgment. He felt the pressure of a gun barrel on the back of his head. The P7M clanged as it struck the ground. Jordan raised his hands over his head as he turned to face who had gotten the drop on him. His eyes went to slits as he tried to place the face.

"You're that...guy," Jordan said. "In the apartment in Miami."

Sure enough, it was the same Latino man who had been with Cody Random down in Miami four years ago. The one who almost got the jump on him and E-Man as they breached the door. Jordan turned back to Random. He had a befuddled expression. Random shrugged.

"You're not the only one who rewards loyalty," Random said, "Good help is hard to find and well, he's not good but cheap. Isn't that right, Pete?"

Pete said, "Yes, thank you very much."

"The extent of his English," Random said.

Thomas retrieved his fallen weapon and approached Jordan. He aimed at the detective's head.

"Not so fast," Random said, "I get to kill Jordan Noble. A deal's a deal."

Thomas trembled with anger. He contained the hatred he built from the conversation with Jordan. He looked like he was of a mind to forget the deal with Random and shoot Jordan anyway. Instead, he calmed himself slightly and moved his aim from Jordan's head to his leg.

"Is it OK if I just wound him a little?" Thomas asked.

"I don't see why not."

Thomas smiled at that. He gripped his gun with both hands and shook with anticipation. He stared hard but got no response from Jordan. He had gone from anger to almost pity for the former CIA agent. He shook his head.

"What are you shaking your head about?"

"You just don't get it," Jordan said. "You had the world in your hand, and you're throwing it away for this stupid scheme. I feel sorry for you."

"Sorry for me?" Thomas rocked his head back and laughed. "I'm not the one about to get shot!"

"Sure, you are," Jordan said. "Shoot this bitch, E."

Confusion played on Thomas's face. Before he could figure out what Jordan was going on about, a section of the large window exploded. A bullet smashed its way through Thomas's shoulder, spinning him like a top before he collapsed to the floor. He lay on the floor, crying like a baby. Anarchy burst loose with the gunshot. Jordan took advantage of the mayhem and whirled around, pushing Pete's gun away with his right hand while delivering a blow to the face with his left. Pete dropped like a stone. Jordan went for his gun, executing a tuck and roll just as gunfire broke out. Random and the three disposables began firing above and around the lab table to get at Jordan. Leone screamed like a girl. Pagani's bodyguards produced their weapons. Jordan was just about to chastise E-Man for not providing more cover fire, when a second shot crashed through the window and disintegrated the kneecap of the man in the cartoonish suit. The man went down with a scream. He would be unconscious from the pain in seconds. E-Man was across the street at least a distance of two hundred yards. His equipment, none other than the PSG-1 sniper rifle. He must have been at the upper limit of his effective range as E-Man missed with his third shot. It did, however, lead to mass scrambling. Pagani and his two men headed for the elevators that brought them up. Leone was already there, stabbing the call button. The doors creaked open just as another round smashed through the window. This one destroyed the equipment uncovered among the banks of similar setups. Random and his crew were in mid scramble for the elevator. The sound of breaking equipment froze Random in his spot. Jordan planted himself at the end of the first row of work benches. His current angle provided no clear line of sight on Random.

"You got 'em, E?"

"Nope," E-Man said. "Bad angle here."

Jordan spat out a curse. He looked over at the downed men. Thomas was still rolling around, grabbing his blood soaked shoulder. Pete and the other guy were flat on their back, out of this fight. Jordan figured it was safe to advance. Gun ahead of him, Jordan marched on Random.

"Cody!" The guy call Slash shouted. "Let's go!"

Random looked like he was preparing to go back to the spot on the lab table E-Man shot. It must have been his crush sample. He got eyes on Jordan and his gun and thought better of it. He and his men continued on course for the elevators. Jordan was glad to see no honor among thieves as the elevator doors closed before the fat face of Pagani.

"No! Wait!" Slash said. His words didn't make the door open.

"The stairs!" one of the guys in a duster said. Slash altered his path and the hit bar of the door, slamming it open. Jordan paused to line up a shot. The irons of his sight were square on Random's back. The trigger squeeze was denied as the third man in a duster fired his own shots. The bullet pierced beakers and microscopes but not detectives. Jordan changed his aim to his right and focused fire on the gunman two rows away. They both retreated away from the elevators, sending bullets at each other. At the far side of the room, the work benches came to an end. Jordan ducked down to reassess. He popped his head around the edge of the bench just in time to be tackled by Duster Guy. He had Jordan by a least twenty pounds and the force of the impact sent both men to the wall. Jordan expected to violently collide with a brick wall instead felt a door bar hit him in the lower back.

"Jordan!" E-Man shouted, "I've lost sight of you!"

Jordan tumbled with his opponent down a few stairs, bouncing hard on the old building's wooden steps. "Don't worry about it," he said with a calm voice. "I got this."

~

The lobby came into view as the elevator doors split. A couple of shops were here, but the lobby entrances were blocked. Pictures displaying a computer generated image of what the future plan lay ahead for the building barred the way to the businesses of old. The windows were covered with thick construction paper in preparation for construction. Pagani moved to get off but his left bodyguard held out his arm. The right guard tried to stop Leone, but the man of science was too panicky to be restrained. Leone's footfalls slapped across the gray tile floor sending echoes through the lobby. He reached the northern doors, the same they had entered from. At this point he noticed he was alone. He turned back to the elevators. The others lingered behind.

"What are you hanging back for?" Leone's voice rose to the point of breaking. "You got the gun!"

The bodyguards lumbered forward. One in front of Pagani, the other bringing up the rear. The first guard pushed pass Leone with a grunt. He drew his weapon, a semi-automatic pistol. A quick look to his counterpart who nodded he was ready. The first guard pushed opened the door. Adams Street and the park beyond burst forth in brilliant color under the afternoon sun. Parked just pass the door and before the green of the park, the Benz awaited their arrival. Leone pushed forward. He worked the passenger rear handle with little success.

"Come on!" he shouted back. Pagani and his guards were exiting now. He rocked his head, the downed corner of his lips expressed his disappointment better than any words.

One of the guard produced the key fob but before he could unlock the doors, a red Ford F-150 screeched to a halt, its bumper inches from the driver's door. With practiced precision, the guards came forward between their charge and the threat, hands filled with pistols. But for naught. Three Detroit Police cruisers appeared - one sliding in eastward from Woodward while the other two from Adams' western end. The officers opened doors and drew down on the four men exiting the building. The bodyguards dropped their weapons and sent their hands skyward. Pagani spat out a stream of curses and Leone just dropped to his knees crying. Two Black men got out of the Ford. They stayed back and didn't interfere as Detroit's Finest did their sworn duty.

The shortest one wearing glasses did, however, point at Pagani and shouted, "You have a lot to answer for the systematic poisoning of my people!"

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Past Debts

Slash exited the stairwell metal fire door and peered through the open entrance facing north. He could see Pagani and his two men standing with hands up. If that didn't paint the picture, alternating lights of blue and red flashed in rhythm beyond them. Behind him, Random and the disposables arrived at the first floor. Slash stepped back into the stairway. Random's face was flushed and breathed heavy. Before he could catch his breath to shout a curse and an order, Slash held up a hand.

"Cops."

Random nodded his understanding as he drank in a lungful of air. Slash inched the door open again. Through the crack he saw a pair of cops slapping cuffs on Pagani.

"Come on," Slash whispered over his shoulder. "Cops are busy with Pagani and his bunch."

He pushed the door open another inch, squatted down and moved silently to the left. He knew another door led to the alley. If they were quick, they could get out of the building before more cops showed up and locked the place down. He figured he was halfway across the lobby, and only a dozen feet from the door. He glanced back and only saw one of the duster wearing disposable tailing behind. Slash couldn't stop to figure what held up Random and the other man. He was committed to his escape.

So long, Cody. Nice knowing ya...

Slash got to the door. It was one of six spread around the building. It had been unlocked just in case of an emergency. Well, this qualified. Slash looked back to the north entrance. A couple of cops, guns drawn, were coming in. One had his hand to his shoulder, keying his mike while the other looked away toward Woodward. It was just a matter of time before the cops turned the other way. Slash pushed open the door to the sunshine splashed alley. A mirthless grin lit his face. He looked back to the disposable who sported a mirrored smile. Slash turned back only to be struck hard and sent tumbling onto his backside.

He looked up - the Black guy he fought at the hospital filled the doorway. The man tossed away what looked like a sniper rifle and reached toward his left side. Slash got off the floor. No way would he get up in time to stop the man drawing what was no doubt a gun.

"Freeze! Police!"

Slash ignored the warning coming from behind. His window of opportunity to escape was closing fast. If he didn't get past the guy in front of him, he wouldn't be going anywhere. He saw something strange. The man got his gun out, but instead of pointing it at Slash, he aimed past him. Slash glanced quickly and in the space of a heartbeat, he understood.

The disposable was drawing on the police with his Mac-10 machine pistol, uncovered from the folds of his duster. The man in the door was drawing on him. The pistol flashed and the disposable pitched forward, a trail of flesh and blood leaping ahead of him from his forehead. Slash didn't stop. In one motion, he leaned into the man blocking the door with his left shoulder and pulled out his prison made shiv from his belt with his right hand. He brought the knife upward into the man but he moved quickly – not quickly enough to keep from getting stabbed, but fast enough to prevent the blade from entering his stomach, Slash's intended target.

The two men collided and the shiv went deep into the man's chest. Slash pushed hard with his legs so as to move the man out of his way. Instead, he heard thunder impossibly close. He heard it again. Pain burned into his body and he knew he had been shot. An animal instinct took over and Slash twisted his knife. But before he could begin his rotation, more thunder sounded. Again and again. All strength left his body and Slash crashed hard to the floor. Life was leaving him but he took a final vision with him into the beyond. The man he stabbed fell next to him, blank eyes looking at nothing. Slash smiled and felt strangely satisfied. He had died as he had lived.

~

Jordan rolled around with Cody's henchman, bouncing down a flight of stairs in a twist of arms and legs. He did his best to force the man to take most of the damage on the way down but all he could think about is what all this was doing to his suit. It was a legit concern – you just can't take a three thousand dollar suit up to the corner cleaners.

At the first landing, Jordan's opponent landed hard on the floor. Jordan literally stood on his chest and pushed off backward onto the wall. He pushed off again, having only lost a fraction of the energy they gathered on the way down. He used the energy to propel himself forward, foot first directly into the man's face. The blow lifted the man to his knees, eyes swimming in his skull.

"Stay down!" Jordan shouted and delivered another kick to the head. The guard's eyes rolled backwards, showing only the whites and he dropped to the floor. Jordan examined his suit.

"Hmph. Not too bad."

He ran back up the stairs, scooping up his gun as he went. The door sailed open with a kick. Jordan paused at the threshold, sweeping the room with his P7M. Thomas still rolled around in his own blood. Pete and Cody's other man was just as still as before. All the same, Jordan was vigilant. The huge window made the room as bright as outside and the bare pure white walls and floor reflected every single beam of light. Yet, the room was massive – it covered nearly the whole floor. And the row after row of lab equipment provided plenty of places to hide.

Jordan slowly marched across the room, the window to his back. He passed Thomas who reached out. Jordan danced out of his grasp, avoiding a bloody handprint on his pants.

Thomas looked up with tear rimmed eyes. His face drawn and ripped with pain.

"Help me..." The voice was aquiver and pathetic. Nothing like the man vowing vengeance and violence. Jordan knelt down.

"Help you?" He couldn't even believe such a cry would come from the vain agent. "But you're a Harvard man."

Thomas swallowed hard and shut his eyes for a moment. After collecting himself, he said, "Come on, man...brother. Don't be like that. Something for the pain..."

Jordan scoffed as he stood. "Here's something for the pain, brother." He reared back his left leg and kicked Thomas's face with everything he had. Thomas's head snapped back and came back down on the tile. Jordan saw the rise of his chest. Thomas wasn't dead but he sure deserved it.

Jordan resumed his combat stance and moved on. He got about to the center when he saw the setup E-Man shot. He went to it – yup, it was toast. Jordan picked through the broken glass and bits of plastic once a microscope or something. A fine powdery yellow dust caked over all the pieces. The last of Cody's crush. He'll be back for this, Jordan figured. It was that or starting over. To be honest, Jordan couldn't think where else Random could go to ply his wares. It all became moot as the stairwell doors on the opposite side of the room came open with a thud. Into the room spilt Random and one of his goons. Their eyes expanded as the shock of Jordan's appearance registered in their brains.

"Well, shit," Random said.

"Yeah," Jordan answered. "Shit."

As one, all three men drew down on their opponents and gunfire filled the air. Random had some pistol but the goon sported a FN P90 personal defense weapon spitting out rounds at fully automatic. Everything on the table between Jordan and his two targets exploded – glass and beakers, a continuous shrill of music in the highest octaves. Jordan continued to his left, toward the elevators while Random and his man went the other way. It wasn't so much either party had a destination as much as they just were getting out of the way of all the flying lead. Jordan kept low putting as much of the tabletop between him and the P90. He was picking his shots and was mostly waiting for one sound in this orgy of noise and panic and smoke and fire. Finally, he heard it.

Click.

Jordan popped up to full height at the sound of the P90's trigger pull on an empty magazine. He aimed his own weapon over the destroyed landscape the workbenches had become and fired twice. Twin rounds found their way into the gunman's skull. Jordan switched to Random and saw Random's gun on him.

Click.

Click.

It was almost funny – poetic really. No quick end to this affair.

Random sighed and dropped his shoulders in resignation. "Well," Random said, "I guess we should get this over with."

Calmly, they both walked to the empty space before the elevators. They came face to face a little over fifteen feet apart. An almost blue haze hung in the air after all the gunfire. It left behind a metallic taste. The pure white walls had spots and streaks of crimson. The scene was otherworldly – a nightmarish hellscape belonging nowhere, yet still very real. And if this was hell, Random was its devil. He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, revealing the white shirt beneath.

"Nice suit." Random pointed his chin at Jordan.

"Thanks. Thought you'd like it. You really should come over here and look at it."

The two men grinned at each other without the hint of joy or humor. They came closer – circling like a pair of animals, looking for an opening...a weakness. A lot of running around, deceit and gunplay had led to this moment. Random coughed out a laugh and somehow Jordan got the joke.

"Seems like a lot of effort for nothing, huh?"

Random bounced his shoulders. "I still get to see you dead."

"That ain't happening, Cody. All you getting is an ass kicking today."

Random nodded. "Perhaps. Still, having you running around. Chasing me. Trying somehow to transfer your rage at Kevin Small's repeated and lustful fornication with the love of your-" Jordan held up his hand stopping the rant. Random's face twisted in confusion and his head went to one side.

"Look," Jordan said, "I know this is the part of the movie where you say something that sends me flying into a rage. The action music starts and I yell something and rush at you. But look, I'm plenty pissed at you now – and Kevin? He's dead by, I'm pretty sure, your boy Agent Thomas there, so I think his fornication days are over."

Random folded his arms across his chest. Only a handful of paces separated them now. "Ah, movie references. But of course, far be it from me to think you've read a book or something." He sniffed and peer down his nose at Jordan. "Still, all the same, here we are. The classic battle of good," he made a wild gesture at Jordan, "and evil." He thumped his own chest. He wheeled in a bit closer. "The epic battle of two opposing forces," his rant continued, "The forces of light, versus -"

Jordan punched him in the nose. His head flopped back and then forward. Random touched his nose and saw blood on his fingers. He nodded. "Alright then."

The two launched at each other. Random swung wildly, mostly beating his opponent's back. Jordan focused on getting in the right position. He got under Random's arms and flipped the criminal over. Random landed with a whack, slapping the tile like an inverted belly flop. He scrambled to his feet and rushed again. Jordan sidestepped like a matador evading a charge. He dropped an elbow center on Random's back and down he went again. Random popped up, though he wasn't as quick to attack this time. Maybe it was sinking in Jordan's promise of an ass kicking was not all bravado.

They circled again. Random did a stutter step to the left and came back with a right cross. Jordan reeled.

"Ha!" Random shouted but it just earned him a backhanded slap. Not enough to do more than shut him up. Jordan got his legs under him and squared off. He took a step back. A strange kind of clarity came over him. He didn't know where it came from or how he was going to pull it off, he just took in the realization of what was going to happen next. "I'm going to kill you."

Random's lip bled a little. He threw his head back in defiance. "Oh, really. Do tell?"

Jordan dropped his arms. "Yeah. I mean, not because I hate you are anything like that. It's just..." he blew out a deep breath. "you're a piece of shit. I mean, all this. Because you set up your own brother to try and kill me. All this lying and killing and scheming...because you screwed over your brother. Robin, who didn't deserve any of this, but Thomas and Small too." Another huge exhale. "Sure, they were dumbasses, but it was just all some stupid plot because you'd blame me rather than take responsibility for your own actions."

Random shook in rage. Each word Jordan spoke resulted in a very physical change. Clenched teeth. Balled fists. Knitted brows. Jordan wasn't trying to manipulate Random into an action. He was tired and really only wanted to go home. Killing Random seemed like the quickest way to make it happen.

Cody Random charged, his hands like claws. Jordan was ready. He ducked down a little, his right arm exploded out, striking Random in the throat. His eyes expanded and a choking gasp left him as his gag reflex activated. Jordan's left foot planted firm and the left uppercut flew, lifting Cody off his feet.

Shoryuken, indeed.

Random crumbled. Jordan stepped over to him straddling his downed foe. Random mumbled and babbled, the effects of his brain crashing into the roof of his skull. Jordan got him by the hair and pulled him to his knees. Standing behind Random, he wrapped his left arm around his throat. All that was left was the twist and Cody Random would be reunited with his brother.

But Jordan didn't twist.

He could have. And maybe he should have. But the clarity had left him and to just twist the guy's head off didn't seem like a good idea anymore. No one would deny Random had it coming, but to be honest, it was just more trouble than it was worth. Jordan had shot and even killed a lot of people over the past few days. there would be hell to pay. He wondered if he should call his lawyer now.

Jordan realized he still held Random in the death grip. Cody's arms flailed around in some hapless attempt to save his life. Jordan breathed a laugh. He opened his arms and Cody Random fell face forward. He lay on the floor, gurgling out every breath. He was done. Jordan stood and dropped his head. He saw the breast pocket of his jacket torn away and flapping freely.

"Son of a bitch!"

Jordan didn't have long to ponder his next move to make his suit whole, as the elevator dinged. He knew he should make some defensive gesture but he was too tired. A pair of men in dark suits stepped out. The older one, with gray hair and narrow but worldly eyes took in the mess Premier Labs had been reduced to. His partner, a blond, put his hand to ear and spoke in hush tones.

"By order of the US government," the older man said, "you are to disengage and surrender Cody Random to me."

Jordan's breathing was coming under control but he wasn't one hundred percent just yet. He side eyed the pair and said the only thing he thought was appropriate at the moment.

"Who the fuck are you?"
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Making It Right

More men came. From up the elevators – the stairs. Within fifteen minutes of the first two's arrival, another dozen men roamed the office space of Premier Medical. Men. Agents. Operatives. Whatever. The older guy introduced himself as Smith. Jordan laughed in his face.

"We have the building secure," Smith said. "No one in or out. Local law is handling the mess in the lobby, but other than that, we own the site." His voice sounded like a bulldog, if it had the power of speech.

Jordan's head moved around, not quite a nod. He knew enough about this world to know all he would get now is half-truths and flat out lies. He rolled his vision over to Cody. He was in an overstuffed chair near an elevator. Two agents, operatives, whatever, stood near, but not too near on either side, hands on close to their hips. Jordan blew hard, motorboating his lips.

"What about Thomas?" He knew a lie would be the answer, but Smith was close enough to human Jordan felt compelled to engage in some conversation.

"We're taking him into custody." The two men looked over at Thomas. A pair of Smith's goons bodily lifted him off the floor. To his credit, Thomas had stopped crying and his face looked something which in certain situations could be defined as bold. He was between the men, an arm on each shoulder, dead legs dragging a trail through the broken glass and equipment littering the floor. The procession slid pass Jordan and Smith without any acknowledgement on their way to the elevator.

"So, if this is over," Jordan asked, "can I get my gun back?"

Smith's cold steel gray eyes lit on Jordan. He went through this staring routine with Stiles – didn't work then wasn't gonna work with Smith. After he and his blond partner arrived, Smith 'secured' Jordan's weapon as a part of taking over the building. Jordan wasn't of a mind to resist, only because he had no intention to shoot these men. Still, if things were winding down, he'd like to get his property back.

"Those P7Ms ain't easy to come by – especially the thirteen round magazine ones," Jordan said.

Smith continued glaring as he snapped his fingers. Immediately, the blond came over and handed his apparent superior the weapon, who in turn, gave it to Jordan. Without thought, Jordan ejected the empty magazine, pulled a fresh one from his jacket and loaded it. He squeezed the weapon's unique arming mechanism built into the grip with an audible snap. The noise brought all the men in the room to a halt, eyes all on Jordan. He rotated his head to others, finally stopping at Smith. The old man was drawing in each breath with a noticeable flair to his nostrils.

"What?" Jordan asked. He returned his weapon to its shoulder holster. Everyone returned to their duties. The march to the elevators continued. Once there, the men guarding Random forced him to his feet. He cradled his right arm with the left. Jordan tried to remember if he broke it in the fight.

An elevator arrived and the men and their two prisoners boarded. Smith headed toward the elevators now. Jordan came along. At the car doors, Jordan saw all the occupants staring forward. Even Thomas and Random looked straight ahead at nothing. The doors slid close.

"So what," Jordan asked, "you gonna 'debrief' 'em or something?"

"Something like that," Smith said. The second elevator doors came open. More agents got off. Jordan, Smith and the blond got on. "Whatever happens to them, it ain't your concern."

Jordan just nodded. He didn't really care. He knew enough about the CIA. Whatever was in Thomas's future was not going to be fun. And Random? After a reminder of who was in charge, he'd probably end up in a secret lab somewhere doing God knows what. He didn't like that, now thinking about it. The car doors closed on the scene of agents roaming around.

As they raced for the ground floor, Smith said, "You're read in, Noble." Jordan turned to the voice. It was the first time Smith spoke his name. He figured Smith was a Company man and had access to whatever information the Defense Intelligence Agency elected to share – including his name. "You know about Random and you have top secret clearance." Jordan's right eye brow shot up and the words, 'what the fuck, over' wanted to spring from his lips. He thought his clearance was revoked on his departure from the service. Still, he said nothing, keeping in mind this was something he needed to circle back to.

"We'll give the cops Pagani and his boys." Smith rocked a little on his heels. "Whatever Pagani says about the 'wonder drug' crush will be unsubstantiated without Random and Thomas."

"So, he'll go free?" Jordan flashed a hot look.

Smith bounced a shoulder. "Never can tell – but, yeah, probably." The fate of drug cartel leadership did not weigh heavy on Smith's mind. He did lean a little toward Jordan as he said, "Guess we should thank you for bringing in Random. It could have been awkward if some beat cop or yokel had been in on it." He stood straight again. "Long as he was in federal lock up it was fine, but Random knows too much to be in the wind."

Jordan sighed. Now he really didn't care. He remember the Herculean effort the government went into protecting secrets. Forget the fact Random was moments away from releasing a far more addictive form of cocaine onto an unsuspecting public. Forget a young woman's life was turned upside down and almost ended. The thought made Jordan wondered how Robin would react to the conclusion of the Random affair. He'd know soon enough.

The doors opened. Cops were everywhere. Some were setting up a perimeter. Others were engaged in an argument with some more of Smith's ilk. Portable lighting stood guard in three corners, chasing away the gloom. Jordan, Smith and blondie headed for the north exit on Adams. Just ahead was the group including Random and Thomas. Jordan looked past them to an EMT team surrounding a gurney with a familiar form.

"E-Man!" Jordan sprinted across the tile floor. Cops and agents turned but no one stopped him. He got to E-Man's side. His eyes were closed and beneath the sheet covering him, his shirt was cut reveal a thicker garment.

"It's not as bad as it looks," one of the EMTs said, "Had on some kind of ballistic vest underneath."

E-Man's eyes came up weakly, followed by a crooked little smile. "You should see the other guy."

Jordan turned to the doorway at the east end of the building. More EMTs were laying sheets over a couple of bodies. Guess a call to the lawyer was still in the cards. Jordan turned to say something to E-Man when a commotion started behind him. EMTs were trying to force their way to Random, who howled in pain.

"That man's injured," a female EMT with a cute curly haircut said. "Dammit! Let us through!" From nearby, Smith made a gesture of indifference and Random's guards parted. Jordan was brought back by a squeeze on his arm.

"You did good, Noble," E-Man said. "You stopped the bad guy, saved the girl and I only got a little fucked up."

Jordan grabbed E-Man's shoulder. "Couldn't have done without you."

"Damn right."

"Excuse me, sir?" The EMT pushed the gurney through the open Adams Street door. Jordan watched and from behind a police line, he saw Don and Malcolm. He waved and they waved back. It look like Malcolm was on the verge of tears. Jordan understood. Seeing your friend rushed off by medical professionals – it never gets easy.

He had enough of this scene and was just about to follow after E-Man when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder. It was Smith.

"Look, Agent -" he cocked his head at the older man, "can we cut the Smith bullshit now? Look, I just want to go home."

Smith nodded and did something on a normal person may have been a smile. "I understand. Still, I need to debrief you as well. Nothing formal. I was thinking in your office. Tomorrow, maybe?"

Smith tried to be agreeable but it wasn't at all how Jordan saw himself spending the next day. Worse case, he would be on the phone with his lawyer explaining all the dead bodies he could be connected to. Best case, he and Robin would be in a hotel room, more precisely a hotel room bed, undisturbed for at least twenty-four hours. He was thinking the Westin Book Cadillac.

A scream split the room and all heads turned toward it. Cody Random pushed away the woman with the cute hair. He had stolen his guard's weapon and stood over him. Random whirled to the other guard and fired twice into his chest at point blank range. All over the lobby, guns were sliding out of holsters, but it was too late. Random spun and fired again on Thomas. The shamed CIA agent took a bullet between the eyes.

Smith shouted, "For God's sakes, don't -"

Whatever he was going to say will never be known. Jordan's P7M with its built-in cocking lever located at the front of the grip, enabled him to cock, aim and fire faster than anyone in the room. A single shot leapt forth and 9mm fury travelling at 1,152 feet per second snapped Cody Random's head backward with deadly finality.

"Damn, killed him after all," Jordan said not so much with regret as indignation.

Beside him, Smith went into a cursing fit. Jordan was forced to the ground by a hard, sudden blow to his back. He impacted the tile floor and was momentarily senseless. He opened his eyes and looked up to more guns pointed at him than he had seen in a very long time. Someone pulled him to his feet. He twisted his head and saw the blond, teeth in a snarl. He whipped Jordan around to face Smith. A pair of cops was just behind and Smith was half-turned explaining something. National security or the like, Jordan figured. When he was done, Smith stepped to Jordan. The old man was furious and Jordan half thought Smith was going to smack him or something.

"Damn it, Noble, why?"

Jordan's brows rose. "You're kidding, right? Guy had a gun. A guy who was really bent on killing me."

Smith's frustration got to him. He looked down, a brief conversation with himself. He looked back to Jordan. The rage almost a living thing ready to spring from his mouth. "Get him out of here."

The blond tugged hard, half dragging Jordan to the door. Once outside, the blue sky and sunshine illuminated the world. A group of looky-loos had gathered – cellphone recording everything. A couple of news vans were readying for broadcast. Cops struggled to keep the scene under control. Jordan looked but couldn't find his partners. Probably for the best – if Malcolm saw this, he would never hear the end of it. The blond was joined by another agent and they frog marched Jordan to an awaiting blue sedan on Woodward. Jordan was pushed into the back seat, another agent with harsh features was already there. The engine came to life and shrieking tires carried them away.

He wasn't too worried. If neither Don nor Malcolm saw him, plenty of others did and one thing the CIA didn't like was witnesses. He sank into the seat and breathed in and back out again. The car turned and entered the Chrysler Freeway. He was still going to be debriefed, just not as nice as it would have been in his office.

He thought about Robin and decided she would like this ending to the story more than what the CIA had planned. He smiled and was just beginning to relax when a bag came over his head and everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Cage Door Opens

Thirty-seven hours later.

He watched her go from the ticket counter to the security line. She didn't look around much, just studied her tickets endlessly, only popping her head up when the guy ahead of her took a step forward. She was almost at the TSA agent when she did survey her surroundings. Just a casual loop of her head as if checking to see if she was missing something or leaving something behind. She was.

Robin Summers' shoulders dropped, he could see that even from the ten yards separating them. She lifted her carry on bag - a large black thing, too big for a purse, too small for a duffel – exited the line with excuse me-s and walked straight to Jordan Noble.

Jordan waited as she crossed the terminal at Detroit Metro Airport. People scurried by in the McNarmara Terminal heading for destinations far and wide. She cut through them, patiently waiting sometimes for a group to go by, other times dancing ahead of a walker going too slow. Finally she reached him. Robin dropped the bag. She wore jeans, a green T-shirt and a light jacket – just something to defend from the cold usually found on commercial aircrafts.

"I don't know if I should be delighted or angry that you followed me." She looked up at him with tired eyes. The eyes of a woman whose business had just collapsed under the weight of a criminal investigation and the massive sucking sound of every investor fleeing as far and quickly as possible. The eyes reflected the pain of her lover betraying her only to be rescued by a former lover she had gotten quite comfortable hating.

"Go with delighted," Jordan said, "It's easier." He showed up to this encounter with his gray Tom Ford suit. He would show her his best self and she would leap into his arms. Looking into her eyes, he saw that fantasy vanished like a half formed dream. His heart broke and he went with humor to shield himself from the sting of honest emotion.

"How did you find me?"

His eyes got distant and memories closed in on him. The ride with the agents twisted and turned through the city in a surveillance detention route. Under the hood, Jordan had laughed at the notion someone was tracking them in a city where most people would be more concern about jobs and next meals.

When the hood came off, they had finally deposited Jordan in an uncomfortable seat in a plain square room which could have been anywhere. They took his gun, his watch – everything in his pockets and his belt. He expected a long time in solitude – an old spy trick to wear down the subject and in the eagerness for human companionship, speak more freely. He did not expect to be left alone for over twenty hours.

He fell asleep, as one is not lonely while asleep. He was awoken by Smith, a bit more rumbled then last they were together. Smith dumped all of Jordan's belongings onto a table before him. The men exchanged looks – Jordan's quizzical, Smith's more of the same fury. This was not in the spy book of tricks.

Without a word, Smith left, leaving the door open in his wake. Jordan got to his feet gathered his things, checked the gun was loaded and followed Smith's path.

The building was a collection of offices and halls. Tan walls and thin cheap carpet. Jordan crept through the building, yet found nothing or no one. A pair of glass doors led outside. He went through and found himself in a strip mall on Middlebelt Road in Livonia. He imagined worst places existed to be left. This one was at least within taxi distance of home. En route, a phone called to his partners revealed E-Man was resting comfortably at Henry Ford Hospital.

He arrived at his apartment and he collected Galahad who was going insane with separation anxiety. He leashed up the little puppy and took another cab to the office building. There, Mrs. Steed caught him on the building's second floor. With tears threatening to fall, she handed him a note, folded with the single word: Jordan. He had seen this movie. He handed the dog off to his secretary, got in the Vette and head to Southfield.

Robin's apartment formed like a townhouse had a sign in the window: For Let. An elderly woman watering a plant box next door was more than willing to tell Jordan about the nice young woman at whose door he stood. She hired a truck and took most, but not all (well, it couldn't be all, she had a two bedroom unit and not enough furniture came out of the house for that – not that she was watching). Robin had a little meeting with the property owners and an agreement about subletting was reached. Then the nice young woman asked the elderly woman to collect her mail as she was moving. Jordan asked a few more questions, the elderly woman gave up that the nice young woman was flying out tomorrow.

Tomorrow was now today. The rest was easy – thanks to Don who, yes, was far better than Jordan at wrestling secrets out of the internet. Flight number in hand, Jordan raced to the airport.

"I am a detective."

She allowed him that this time and they laughed. Both had their heads down as the swirling crowds moved around them – a stone in a stream.

Robin cleared her throat, "Look, Jordan -"

"You weren't going to say good-bye?"

Robin looked as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She gathered her courage to look Jordan in the eye. "No, baby, I wasn't. It's just too hard."

Jordan looked at her. Breathing became a task. Yesterday he woke up next to her – today, the world was falling apart.

"Jordan," her eyes found the floor again, "too much as happened. It would be too hard to go on."

"Too hard for love?" He reached and touched her arm. Robin looked up again and breathed so deeply, he thought she would take in all the air in the room. Her arm crossed her body to reach for where he touched her. For a moment, it seemed like the world was ready to make sense again.

She coughed out a laugh. "That's your problem, Jordan. "Everything is so simple for you. So easy."

"Isn't it?" He drew away his touch and the hand flew in frustration. "Seriously, screw all this deep thought and double talk. It all comes down to, do you love me and do I love you!"

"No, it doesn't. Jordan, I can't be who you need me to be, not now."

Jordan smiled a cocky little smile, "Isn't that my line?"

"Don't make fun of me!" A passerby tore his face from his phone. "Not now. I mean it. This...adventure has cause me to question who and what am I? I told you that I hated you for a long time. I was wrong about that, I see that now." Tears sprang from her eyes. "But I was wrong about Kevin, too. In so many ways. Don't you see? What else am I wrong about? I can't start a new relationship with you with so many doubts."

He understood. Vaguely. And to be honest, he did ask himself how could she be so in love, so tied to a man who could, in an instant, leave her to die. His arms went around her. Robin buried her face in his chest. She was crying full out now, coughing and choking for air. After a moment, she got her composure back. She looked up at Jordan. Tears rolled down her face and pooled at her chin.

"You can't believe that, Bird," emotion gripped his voice. "I would do that to you."

She took his face in her hands. "Oh, baby, I don't know much, but I know that will never happen. It's not that. I need to find out who I am. How can I be with you, if I don't know myself. Can you give me that? Please, I need you to give me that."

All the bullets and punches and kicks Jordan had experienced was not killing him as much as these words. No one would ever know, but Jordan reached deep inside himself and found a courage he never knew before. He nodded and granted his one true love her request.

"How long?" The sounds were barely words.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I really don't. But don't wait. No, love, I know you would, but don't. Live life. You waited too long for me already and I can never repay you. If it was meant to be, we'll find each other."

Nothing else to say. Nothing more to be done. Save taking her chin and kissing her. So, he did. Jordan Noble kissed Robin Summers as if life itself depended on it. He kissed her like they were only ones in the terminal. His hands touch and held her with thoughtless passion. Two full minutes when by. Robin broke away. She dipped down and picked up her bag. She walked away two steps and turned.

"You are my heart, Jordan Noble," she said through red eyes and sobbing throat. "And no matter what..." her voice vanished, overpowered by tears.

"I will always love you." Jordan said the only words that could follow.

Robin wheeled around and ran. She got back in a line now double in length than when she left. It took her twenty-six minutes to get to the TSA agent. Another fourteen to reach the metal detectors. That ordeal lasted six minutes more.

He watched her the whole time. He watched as she gathered herself and from beyond the scanners, turned and waved. He watched as she went deeper into the terminal and disappeared from sight. He stood there, watching until her flight's scheduled departure time forty-two minutes later.

And he stood there for another thirty-three minutes. After all that, Jordan turned and left the airport.

~

Jordan entered the hospital room in Henry Ford hospital. Don and Malcolm were already there, and of course, they were arguing. No telling over what. Akio Manning sat on the edge of the bed where her husband, E-Man lay recovering. The room exploded with shouts at Jordan's appearance. Even Akio was happy as she gave him a hug.

"What was that for?" Jordan asked.

"You all are heroes," she said. She turned to the others, "You deserved a medal for keeping that crap off the streets."

"Or at least a week off," Don said in that quiet way of his. Jordan heard it anyway. He shook his head. E-Man gave Jordan one of his grins. The men shook hands.

"It's all in a day's work," Jordan said. "But we'll see about that week off." Jordan winked. Malcolm from the opposite side of the bed high-fived E-Man and Don in turn.

"How you feeling, partner?" Jordan sat next to Akio.

E-Man beamed a smile. "I'll live, especially with that week off."

"Two," Akio said.

"That should be just about right." Dr. Jackie Myers entered the room. She walked to the foot of the bed and picked up E-Man's chart. She nodded doctorly, then shot Jordan a dirty look. "I swear, you're going to be the death of me, Jordan Noble."

Jordan heard the pain in her voice despite the threat. He deserved the dressing down. "OK, OK."

Jackie eyed Jordan in silence for a moment longer than comfortable. She turned to Akio. "Please take care of your husband. These 'UrbanKnights' think they're indestructible."

"Not us!" Malcolm said.

"Amen to that." Don folded his arms in solidarity.

Akio hugged E-Man's neck. "Oh, I will."

Jackie headed for the door. Her palm was pushing it open.

"So, who's going to take care of me," Jordan asked. Jackie stopped and turned on her heels. She scowled for all of five seconds. She literally forced her tongue in her cheek to suppress a smile. She stepped to Jordan, caught him by his lapels and kissed him hard on the lips. The room went dumb in the sixteen seconds Jackie unleashed passion on Jordan. She broke off and both took a moment to refill their lungs. Jackie pinched Jordan's face between her fingers and thumb.

"I'll see you later, Mr. Noble." She turned and exited the room. No sooner than she left, Malcolm and Don went into action.

"Alright, Noble!" Malcolm said.

"Didn't know you had it in you, man!" Don said.

Akio and E-Man just embraced a little tighter.

Jordan fought off embarrassment. "All right, all right, that's enough."

The hazing abated and Jordan drifted off into his own thoughts. Did a door close earlier and another just open? Maybe, time would definitely tell. One thing was for sure, life was somehow sweeter. Did some scale suddenly come into balance? The account of Cody Random and yes, even Robin Summers closed out – paid in full. The past often visited the present, and it's not always a bad thing. Sometimes past debts have to be paid to clear the books for new accounts. For the first time in a while, Jordan looked forward to the future. A thought came to him.

"E, can I use your phone?"

"Sure," E-Man said. "You're paying for it anyway."

Jordan smiled at E-Man's quip. He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. It rang a few times before it was answered.

"Hello, Ma?"

Epilogue: A Distant Hand

The Pentagon.

Commander Bill Foster rapped on the door and entered the office of his boss, the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Admiral Walter Torison's eyes moved from his computer screen to his executive officer.

Foster stopped before the desk. "Admiral. I just got a phone message directly from the director of the CIA."

Torison leaned back and gave no indication this was unusual or unexpected. In fact it was both. If the CIA director wanted to talk to the head of Naval Intelligence, it was no issue to do so. Torison knew the importance of maintaining level of separation as much as the CIA head did.

"What is the message, commander?"

Foster's brows knotted. "That's the thing, sir. It's...weird."

Torison folded his hands in his lap. "Go on."

"It's just two words, sir. 'It's done'."

Ten seconds passed before Torison spoke again. He leaned forward and his folded hands now rested on the desktop. His vision went back to Foster. The commander's muscles under his mocha face worked themselves into a frown.

"That will be all, Foster. Thank you." Commander Foster would get no answers today and that's just the way it was in the Navy. He nodded and turned to leave. Torison sat for a moment, motionless. He owed Jordan Noble nothing. Four years ago, when he sent him on the Cody Random assignment, Jordan was doing his duty. Duty, yes, all the same, the resulting entanglement with a CIA asset gone rogue would place Noble at the center of a web he had no part of. So, no, from the point of view of duty, Torison owed nothing. Still, it was a matter of principle and honor and whatever else Jordan Noble was, he was honorable. The effort Torison spent to convince the Director of the CIA to make the fallout of this Cody Random business just 'go away', was a fair exchange for Jordan Noble's selfless efforts.

Torison went back to his computer and continued his task at hand, a brief he was preparing for the Joint Chiefs. Still, in the back of his mind, Jordan Noble roamed. Since Jordan's departure from the Air Force, an act he had some hand in, Torison kept an eye on him. An eye and a distant hand perhaps. Making sure his top secret clearance somehow kept its active status, for example. A corner of Torison's thin lips ticked up in what could loosely be described as a grin. It wasn't a bad idea to keep tabs on Jordan. One never knew when a friend, or at least an ally, would be needed to deal with a random affair.

CASE CLOSED.

Thank you for reading the UrbanKnights' latest adventure. Reviews are the lifeblood of independent authors and are greatly appreciated. If you liked The Random Affair, please tell your friends at the online retailer you purchased this book.

And now...

Hank and Hank Productions presents a preview of James H. Roby's next thriller

BLACK BEAR

Available now in paperback and digital
Chapter One: The Sweet Release

Three years ago...

Italy was always a great port of call. It was part of the reason she enlisted...see the world, travel to exotics places - that sort of thing. It was just the sort of adventure the young seaman expected when the Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer, the USS Lincoln sailing into the harbor of Trieste. This would make a good photo op to send to her sister back home.

But sight-seeing and picture taking would have to wait until tomorrow. It was almost 2100 local time and any shore leave was hours away. She could wait. She waited this long. Fortunately, her section chief asked her to run an errand to the bridge. Normally the seaman had no desire to go anyway near a gathering of officers unless she had to, but this was an exception. This particular task would bring her above deck and give her a chance to see the skyline of the city. Her steps were light and swift as she burst onto the deck of the Lincoln. She paused for a moment to regard the ancient architect when something caught her eye. She went to the rail of the deck and peered into the inky black of the sea below her. She couldn't tell but she thought she saw something moving...a boat, something small. She knew most vessels were smart enough to give way to a US warship, still, she thought she saw something. There it was again. This time with a sound like an outboard motor. It came closer. She shook her head. It was nothing to be concerned about. No law against a vessel passing by. She was sure everything was fine. She heard a pop then a whooshing sound. A flash of light accompanied the noise – the light headed straight towards her. She turned back to her original course heading for the bridge. It was clear something was wrong and she needed to warn someone. Her mission ended suddenly as fire, light and heat engulfed her. An explosion flung her body overboard. As life left her, she was sorry she would never get the chance to send her sister pictures of this beautiful city.

Today...

Jordan T. Noble III drove his Cadillac. The favorite of his four cars was his Corvette, but he felt this occasion needed something a bit more formal. The Phantom Gray Metallic CTS-V was a suitable exchange for the customize sports car Jordan usually tooled around in. It provided the class and elegant the long-postponed date with Dr. Jackie Myers called for. She didn't appreciate the pure animal performance the 'Vette could deliver – she found the Cadillac's soft leather seats and uncompromisingly smooth ride far more desirable. Everyone can't appreciate the mind numbing zero to sixty in three point five seconds of a customized 1991 Corvette ZR1. Oh, well.

Jackie rewarded her escort with the tiniest of smile and slight sigh upon entering the CTS-V. Waves of relief came off her as she would not have to lower herself into the almost-on-the-ground corvette while wearing a dress. Her initial satisfaction set the tone for the remainder of the evening.

They went to the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History. A sizable crowd turned out for the evening's event. The modern designed structure in the city's Midtown had steadily moved its way up the ranks of one of the nation's best. Jordan brought his guest through The Ford Freedom Rotunda. The ninety-five-foot wide by sixty-five-foot high glass dome practically begged boys, young and old, to shout, thanks to the echoes it generated. Jordan fought the urge.

The evening's feature was a photo expose' from the 1960s, held in the museum's theatre. The photographs were a collection of the civil rights struggles as told from the lens of various reporters from the era. After a tour of both deeply disturbing and heroically triumphant images, the evening concluded with an address from one of the photographers. Wizened and broken down by a lifetime of struggle, the well-suited gentleman passionately recounted tales of fire hoses, sit-ins and attack dogs. All eyes were locked and every ear bent to catch the pearls delivered by the soft-spoken man. A sense could be felt, this was one of, if not the last opportunity to hear such words. This elderly man was on his final rounds, passing his wisdom to the next generation before going on to his much deserved rest. When he finished, the entire audience came to its feet and rewarded the speaker with applause that wouldn't end for several minutes. Jordan insisted on shaking the speaker's hand before leaving. The man was clearly moved by the simple gesture, visited upon him again and again and again...

The program ended and they drove back towards Jackie's Indian Village house.

"What did you think?" Jordan asked.

"Very nice," she told him. Jackie was always a woman of few words. It usually annoyed him. Today, it just struck him as funny. A grin grew under his mustache as he looked over at her.

"What's so funny?" Jackie asked.

"You." He looked at her just for a second, time enough to admired her turned sideways in her seat, causing the cut of her plum dress to reveal more than the usual amount of her auburn skin beneath. "You're always holding back."

She cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean by that?"

Jordan's eyes turned back to her. He upset her a little – Jackie was a private person, even with him. Especially with him. His comment may have been a little too close to home. Still, Jackie was a woman of even temperament and despite being bothered, she wouldn't make Jordan pay for it too much. A constant in their history was a reluctant to delve too deeply into the emotions they felt for each other. It was Jackie who elevated their relationship to its current level of 'more than just friends'. Albeit it was due to the shock and stress of her near-death experience during the affair with Cody Random, nevertheless, she put her heart in harm's way and open herself up to Jordan. The three months since the Random affair ended and the surprise kiss Jackie rewarded Jordan with, had been a slow dive into deeper feeling. They loved each other clearly as friends. But anything else...

"You always hold back what you really thinking, Jack," Jordan said. Jacqueline Myers was 'Jack' to no one but Jordan.

"What did I do now?"

"'Very nice'," Jordan repeated her comment. "Not very forthcoming." He tried to soften the accusation with a smile. It worked as Jackie mirrored his features.

"You were very moved by the speaker. I've never seen you pay such undivided attention." Jackie smiled broadly now, expanding on her answer and at the same time, turning the table onto Jordan and his feelings. He squirmed a little in his seat. They both knew he was uncomfortable when so easily read, even by those close to him. He flashed her a hot look as he exited the freeway. Jackie busied herself with straightening her dress as she looked forward again. A moment passed and she snuck a peek at Jordan. He saw it and also noticed she had kicked off her shoes. She reared back in the leather seat, retracted back further than usual. She was letting her guard down and getting comfortable around him. And comfortable was good.

"It was a very important topic," Jordan said. "I was just...you know... I...I -"

"I...I." Jackie took up Jordan's narrative but with her own slant. "I was just staring like a little boy." She laughed, leaning on the head rest and covering her mouth. She crossed her legs. "So you were moved. It's okay. It doesn't make you any less manly." She reached over and touched his arm, "It's very attractive." Again, she smiled. Jordan wanted this to be her coming on to him a little but he knew she was teasing him.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Oh no, I would never do that." She lasted a full two seconds before collapsing into laughter.

Jordan wheeled into Jackie's driveway. It was a brick two-story Detroit was once famous for in its role as the 'City of Homes'. A few blocks west or north and the neighborhood was a much darker place. But, in Indian Village, the real estate was still prime. The neighborhood had long been the home of Detroit's rich and powerful – for Jackie to find an affordable home here was something of a coup.

Jordan pushed the transmission into park, fully expecting a hug and a warm wish 'good night'.

"Want some coffee?" Jackie's face was at neutral, and reading her emotions was impossible.

"Er, yeah, sure." Jordan had been in her house before, but not since they started dating. With her rotations at the hospital and Jordan's detective agency, the UrbanKnights Investigation and Security Services, sudden increase in business, being physically together was rarer than the norm. But this was different. Now, the invitation carried with it a suggestion of sex. And the kiss aside, Jordan found it hard to believe, they would ever be more than 'friends'.

He had always been attracted to her. He knew Jackie back in college – when she was at the University of Michigan and he was at Michigan State. During all that time, Jordan had been quite taken with Jackie, admiring her from afar. She, conversely, seemed eternally indifferent to him. Their friendship was undeniable. Until now.

She led him into her home. Jackie took his coat while he went into the living room. She paused for a moment to turn on Bose stereo. The sound of Swing Out Sister's "Momma Didn't Raise No Fool" came forth. The lack of a local smooth jazz station meant the music was a product of a streaming service. Jordan was alone for a moment, while his hostess vanished deeper into the house. He frowned. He was making too much of this. He decided to treat this like any other time he was in a woman's house.

He paused in front of the mirror over her fireplace. He turned sideways. He was still in good shape. He trained and ran constantly. His line of work, past and present, demanded that he be in top shape. He checked his hair and smiled, realizing he was acting like this a date with potential. Jordan pushed that thought aside. It was Jack. Just Jack. Still, he noted his dark hair was accented with only the fewest flakes of gray. It was an acceptable amount. A decade as an agent for the Defense Intelligence Agency and a couple as a private detective was sure to leave its mark on anyone. He opened the middle button of his suit, splitting the black sportscoat, revealing a grey shirt beneath.

Jackie's head poked from of the kitchen. "No coffee. I got tea...is that okay?"

"Only if you got -"

"Earl Grey?" Jackie smiled further demonstrating how well she knew Jordan. He suppressed his own smile as he lowered himself onto the couch. He really wanted to be more enigmatic to coincide with his public persona as an investigator. He accepted his friends and family probably could see through all that. To be honest, this 'self-vision' wasn't due to any vanity on his part. Instead, it was an occupational necessity. He always felt keeping an emotional barrier between him and everyone else would enable him to go into dangerous situations without friends worrying about him – no one worries about someone they can't figure out. It never seemed to work out that way. Jackie along with the UrbanKnights, his parents and few close friends, had pierced Jordan's shield.

Jackie emerged from the kitchen carrying a serving tray. It swayed a bit in her grip. What was that about?

Upon it was a tea pot, saucer and a pair of mugs. She sat next to her guest. Jordan accepted the mug of tea from his friend and took a spoon and a couple packets of sugar. Honey would have been better. The mug bore the scripture, "The man of integrity walks securely". Jordan never asked her, but he always assumed this mug was especially for him.

He enjoyed his 'spot' of Earl Grey, but he hadn't adapted the English tradition of taking the drink with lemon. Jordan was willing to open his tastes to new things, but he would only go so far. You can take the boy out of the city...

Jackie quietly sipped at her tea, still sporting a slight, secret smile. When she brought the cup from her lips, Jordan saw her pleased look.

"Now, what, Jack?" Her eyes seemed to brighten at his personal nickname for her.

"Nothing," she said, "I was thinking about you and your tea. You know, Jordan, you're not that guy I met in college."

He turned to her. "Really? Wow, who'd have thunk it? Are you surprised I've matured?"

She laughed. "I didn't say anything about maturing..."

"Ha, ha. So what are you saying?"

She paused before she answered, cocking her head to one side. She studied Jordan, as was her way, much like a doctor examines a patient. It may have been her professional life intruding on her personal one, except Jordan remembered her always looking at him like that.

"Well you and this tea," she told him, "that's so...I don't know, European. But back in college, you were so..."

"Cool?"

"Hardly." That earned Jackie a hard look from her visitor. She ignored it. "You were trying so hard to define yourself."

"What!" Jordan jumped back into the couch's cushions.

"You know it's true." Jackie reached out to playfully slap his hand. "First you were a rapper, then a DJ." she stopped to laugh, rocking with her mirth. Jordan bit his lip. It was funny. Everyone goes through a period of discovery. It was natural, of course, a part of growing up. But when you hear someone else talk about it, it was a little silly.

"You were something else," Jackie said. "You had a demo tape and everything. What was your 'rap name'?"

Helpless to deny her recollection, he said, "King Rock." Jackie put a hand to her lip to hide her laugh, the other unconsciously tightening on Jordan's. He surrendered and joined her in the joke. Tears were in her eyes as she continued her trek down memory lane. "Jordan Noble: rapper!"

"I could have been too," Jordan protested, "if my crew hadn't abandoned me at the talent show. I had mad skills, yo."

She ignored his protests. "Instead, you became Jordan Noble, secret agent."

"Intelligence operative," he said, elevating his chin. To the world at large, Jordan Noble was never an agent of the Defense Intelligence Agency. All open source records reflected he spent his military career in Missile Operations in North Dakota and then doing classified staff work at the Pentagon. Something followed about him being an ethics instructor at the spy agency, but never a field agent. Even Jordan's family thought that he was just another officer in the United States Air Force. Years ago, however, Jordan needed a trusted ear he could confide in and revealed the true nature of his government service to Jackie.

She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, intelligence operative. Sitting around drinking Earl Grey."

"Oh, so I'm all worldly now, and you're feeling me, huh?"

Jackie blushed at Jordan's blunt way of putting what was essentially true. Somewhere in the room, Regina Belle asked "Do You Wanna Get Serious." The silence between the pair stretched to awkward dimensions. The two friends, who could talk about anything, couldn't tolerate the discussion of their own feelings. Jordan realized he had embarrassed her and knew he had brought the evening to a premature end.

"Well," he said as he set his mug back on the tray. "Score one for my big mouth."

Jackie smiled gently but said nothing. Jordan nodded at her silence and took it as agreement. He stood to leave. She was on her feet after him.

"You don't have to leave." Her voice trailed off at the end. This was something neither one of them wanted to deal with.

He continued through the living room to the front closet and the door beyond. "It's probably best. There's no need to..." he fought to find the right phrase, "force this." He drew his coat from the closet and put it on. Behind him, Jackie struggled to resolve the situation. The attraction was there, he had seen it time to time over the years. But it wasn't a hot blaze passions are known for...maybe a cozy campfire. Good for snuggling and little else.

He got his coat and looked back to her. Jackie's fingers locked and unlocked, seeking something to do. If he knew her, and he did, the past months were going through her head. Late night phone calls. The business referrals they sent to each other. Longing looks. Casual hand holding. Though never spoken, these actions were the down payments for future romance.

He twisted his lips into a half smile and unlatched the door. It cracked open. He felt her hand at his shoulder.

"Jordan." He turned to her at the sound of his name.

"I haven't been fair," she said. "All this time. What we've been doing...I'm attracted to you. You're a great man and a good catch." She smiled at the last bit, as if it would help heal his wounded pride and make this easier. He just turned to face her, eyes intense. He had an overwhelming sense something was ending. She was one of the few people he trusted without pause. If this was the last he would see her, he wanted to burn the memory of her into his brain.

Jackie dropped her head and moaned softly. "This isn't working. I'm just messing it up. Let's just say that we'll be better friends than lovers."

It was his turn to sigh. It was a long tiring road getting here. Just face the truth and get on with it. Rip off the damn band aide. "Okay, Jack. If that's what you want."

Several seconds passed as the pair tried to figure out what to do next. A kiss was straight out but would a hug be too friendly? On impulse, Jordan reached and caressed her cheek. He paused for a moment to look into her brown eyes. Jackie leaned in and kissed his cheek. She pulled back and tears brimmed. Jordan felt the hot sting fill his own eyes. He was about to turn when she leaned in again. Their lips met. Soft. Brief. She was backing away again but Jordan came forward. Her lips parted and his tongue slid through. They stopped kissing again, yet still close enough for noses to touch. His hands rested gently on her hips. She, however, had a fistful of his shirt in her grip.

"It's...it's hard." The words came out of her between gasps of air.

"It always is," Jordan said. "I'll just -"

"I don't want you to go." She dared to look in his eyes.

"But you don't want me to stay."

A heartbeat. Then another. "Yes. Yes, I do."

She kissed him again. Not a kiss goodbye. An invitation whose meaning was clear. The passion caught Jordan off guard but only for a moment. His arms encircled her as he returned her affection. She put her weight on him, forcing him back, slamming the door closed. Her breath was hot on his face, rapidly flowing over him in a steadily increasing rhythm. His right hand filled with her hair, pulling her head back so he could probe her mouth deeper. As they broke, Jackie pulled away with a gasp. She looked at him, almost like a wild creature. No trace of the reserve woman he had known for so long. In her stead was a being fueled by lust, if the look in her eyes were any indication. Her breasts peered from behind her dress, heaving in time with her breathing.

Without saying a word, she turned and started up the stairs. Jordan undid the buttons of his shirt as he followed her. By the time he reached the landing, his jacket was a memory and he was working on his pants. Jackie made it to the bedroom. She turned and Jordan seized her with a kiss. It was her turn to be caught unaware. Thirty-three seconds passed before her survival instinct won and forced her to split the kiss. She drank in a lungful of air, but it was too late. She was completely at the whim of Jordan's advances and he was no mood to be denied. He lunged forward and they fell onto the bed. He gave her no chance to recover and he descended with another kiss.

The forbidden lust that had remained bottled within him had finally found release. His hands explored her body, each touch, she jolted as if a shock of electricity igniting her entire being. Nimble fingers discover the buttons of her dress.

"Oh, God." The words slipped out of her as he with the skill of a safe cracker, slid his hand beneath the lace of her undergarment and caress her hip. She went to moan but his lips came down firm on hers. Their tongues gently introduced themselves again. Jordan slightly shifted his weight so that his other hand could invade her bra and touch ever so gently the curve of her breast. Beads of sweat covered her. He moved to straddle her. He dropped his underwear, the last of his clothing. No sooner than they were gone, Jackie sat up. She pushed Jordan back, just a step. She looked at his naked body for the first time. There was no going back now.

Before she could fully appreciate the view, Jordan bent over and yanked off her panties in a single motion, making her gasp. He smirked as he went to his knees.

"Wait, wait. Wait." Even as words left her lips, her legs opened for him. "I'm not...I don't think I'm..." A breath. "Okay...okay."

Her spine curved as Jordan's tongue kissed the innermost part of her. If she enjoyed his handling of her body thus far, heaven was sure to follow.

Time had no meaning as Jordan pleasured her. His skill was such that he brought her just to climax, and then back down, only to start again.

"Jordan...Jordan, stop. I can't take anymore."

He almost felt bad for her. A woman always so in control. Now on the brink of begging. Her every nerve in her body would be alive and at full readiness by now.

"Jordan..."

He wouldn't make her beg, and like a master of his craft, Jordan somehow knew that he had taken Jackie as far as he could with this technique. He stood to enter her. She widened her legs as he lay atop her. She grabbed Jordan by the arm so hard, three days would pass before the marks faded.

Their bodies came together. Slowly, then increasingly faster. Her eyes rolled into her skull, showing only the white. Jordan filled her as if they were designed for each other.

He suddenly increased tempo. The climax was nigh. Jackie brought him close, tightening the hold, as if that were possible. Breaths were now grunts. Movement, swift and deliberate. Not one iota of strength was wasted. Their entire beings, body and soul, were totally dedicated to physical, sexual pleasure.

Then they felt it, as one. The orgasm forced every muscle to tighten as if a bolt of lightning had descended on them from on high. A moment in time so short yet all consuming, united them like no other. Tightly closed eyes opened slowly and they regarded each other as if for the first time. In many ways, it was. A door had opened and another had closed. Friends they were and friends they would always be. Fortunately, the enormity of the moment cannot be grasped by the mortal mind for long and quickly as it came...it was gone.

"Damn," Jackie sighed.

Jordan could only drop his head and laugh.

~~

Afterword

"Is this you?"

This is a common question people ask me if they have read one of my UrbanKnights novels. It's usually accompanied by a sideways look and a smirk saying they already know the answer. Over the years, I have devised many responses, some more cleverer than others but I'll let you in on a little secret.

Yeah, he's me.

I have taken to heart the notion, 'write what you know'. As such, my thrillers are surrounded by things close to my heart. I should mention now, my wife does not appear in my books as I was advised by a fellow author this is a very, very bad idea. Still, most of my fictional adventures have some roots in reality.

Long ago, 1991 to be exact, in a computer lab far, far away – Michigan State University's, on an Apple Computer - I typed the words, The UrbanKnights for the first time. I had always thought the word urbanite was just too good to not exploit. Urbanite? Like knight in shining armor, but in a city? How cool is that? I tried to convince my friends we should call ourselves that...it didn't catch on. I did, however, use it as my call sign when I entered the Air Force.

But back to the story. I've always loved the private eye character, starting with the ones Humphrey Bogart brought to life in movies like The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep and even Casablanca (ok, that wasn't a detective movie, but it was Bogie!). And when I found out about a black detective called Shaft, man, it was a wrap! Throughout high school, I imagined myself in the role of a detective – I even had a buddy in print class make me some business cards for the Shamus Detective Agency.

I had tried my hand at a writing a book. Yes, it was a fan-fic. But once I got into college the idea really took hold. What ultimately became the UrbanKnights started with those first keystrokes on one of MSU's Apple Computer.

I enlisted my friends into the cause and they all, unwittingly, became partners in the detective agency. I think the impact of having friends, ride or die buddies, and the relative freedom of being a college student steered me away from the solo efforts of the typical movie gumshoe and focus on making my adventures about a team.

My first time out, the cast was literally my friends and me. James Roby was the name of the principal protagonist. I quickly discovered the freedom of making up a character with a base in truth. So, the hero who would become Jordan T. Noble III shared some of my history. Both from Detroit, attended Michigan State University – falling in love for the first time there, and heading off to Minot Air Force Base. Things changed after that – where I was trapped in North Dakota for four years, three months, twenty-three days, seventeen hours, our hero escaped much earlier and went to work for the Defense Intelligence Agency. How all that happened is another story.

I still had a lot of work to do, my hero didn't even have a name. He was initially Joshua Jordan. I have my old friend Denise to thank for the course correction. And if not for another friend, Jordan's adventures would have ended around page 50 of his first novel.

So, there I was, in Minot, typing away on the first draft of my first novel, when I just stopped. I remember saying, "No one will ever read this." And mid-adventure, I just stopped. I still loved my creation but I was sure I was, and would forever be, the only one. So, I printed my quarter-story, wrapped it in page-protectors and carried it around with me. Every once and a while, I'd pull it out, read it and sigh. Wistfully thinking, only if...

Years later, on my tour in Alabama, teaching cadets, I met a guy training to be an operator in Combat Control, the Air Force's contribution to Special Operations. He had been injured and while recovering he took an assignment as an instructor. Well of course he had to do all the macho things operators do, and when he found out I have never willingly jumped out a fully functional aircraft, he insisted I join him in this experience. I had successfully told him what I thought of the idea, but then the cadets got involved. My buddy became the "cool teacher". Can't go out like a punk, so the next weekend, I went to go try my best to kill myself. I went to my friend's house with the quarter-story in my backpack. As he and I departed to commit suicide, I accidently left my book at his house.

Upon our return (I didn't die), I found my book – covered in red marks. His wife had edited it! The nerve! But before I could get too mad, I got to the last page and she wrote:

You have to finish this.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I finished the novel and it became Past Debts. After an absolutely horrible experience with a vanity publisher, I have recrafted the novel into a more, dare I say, palatable version, which you now hold in your hands...or on your device. Whatever.

So, here's to a friend's nosy wife who saved Jordan Noble and the UrbanKnights from the dustbin of history. I hope I have lived up to her expectations and yours. I pray your first visit to Jordan's Detroit, isn't your last. Thanks for your support – Enjoy!

James H Roby, 2017.
Other books by James H Roby

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by James H Roby:

The UrbanKnights Thriller Series

The Random Affair

Black Bear

Pale Horse

Caribbean Knights

Sins of the Father

Coming Soon! Favorite Son
