

# The Accidental Immortal

By Rodney Mountain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2002-2004 by Rodney Mountain

ReEdit Copyright 2017 by Rodney Mountain

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

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

# Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

Durell's Insurrection

##

# Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the inspirations I have gotten over the years, and to the characters in my head that allow these books to be written. Without you I would never have gotten as far as I have.

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us--if at all--not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

-T.S. Elliot

## Chapter 1: Campsite, Boland Creek, NY

The shots came fast enough that Tripton Mason's mind couldn't quite register them correctly. The pain was massive enough that his body could not communicate it to his mind. The physical trauma of three 9 mm bullets slamming into his body was enough to knock most of the life out of him. The fact that they didn't hit his heart kept him from dying immediately.

His eyes were half blinded from the flash, as it was a dark and cold night out in the woods. The shock of impending death was enough to keep his mind from asking the questions it should have. He had not heard anyone approaching and had no time to react to the shots that ended his natural life.

Trip Mason did not see the flash of light that many described as he fell to the ground, his weight and gravity burying half of his body in the freshly fallen snow. As the blood flowed from the wound, still being pushed by his beating and slowing heart his mind continued to register the sensation of cold.

The preceding days of his life went through his mind slowly as the blood loss started to take a toll on his dying mind. He thought of the girl he was supposed to be protecting and the life that he had waiting to see end. Dying was not so much an adventure, but a mass of tangled memories that were brought out as the neural pathways in his brain fought to understand the massive damage that had just been inflicted on his body.

Finally as his body settled in the snow, motionless from the massive shock, his brain finally let go of the consciousness that it had been trying to preserve. Tripton Mason went still as his body still maintained function, though just barely, due to the cold snow he fell in.

## Chapter 2: Campsite, Boland Creek, NY

Sheriff Chris Gabriel pulled over to the side of the road and made sure his old Blazer was off the road enough not to be hit. He parked behind one of his deputies and left his flashing lights on to make sure cars on the road had enough warning to get out of the way.

"This had better be good," he grumbled as he walked through the eighteen inches of snow in the woods, "I hate snow."

Six feet tall and walking with a pronounced limp, Chris Gabriel did not look like your average county Sheriff. For one thing, at twenty-eight, he was the youngest person ever elected to the post in Boland Creek County. He ran against an incumbent that had a bribery scandal hanging over his head and scored a landslide victory.

The other thing that set Chris Gabriel apart was the fact that he made the rare transition from federal agent to local peace officer. He spent six years in the FBI, leaving at the top of his game, an expert on serial murder cases. His name had been made in the bureau by breaking several notorious serial killers.

The thing that made the difference in the election that brought him the law enforcement job he didn't want was the fact that he was wealthy enough from the books he wrote, both fiction and non-fiction, to not be a candidate for bribery. He had retired to Boland Creek expecting to relax and write his books for a living.

But instead of sitting in his easy chair with his keyboard working on his latest novel he was trudging through the snow early in the morning. One of his deputies was standing out there in the morning light warming his hands in his jacket. He saw Gabriel and was glad to not have to deal with this alone.

"What have you got, Vinnie?" Chris asked his youngest deputy, "Why'd you pull me out of my chair on my day off?"

"I think I have a murder," Vinnie said, "but this wouldn't sell if you didn't see it."

"Great," Chris grumbled, "do you have a body?"

"Not exactly," Vinnie McNeil said, "come on over and tell me what you think."

Chris frowned at Vinnie, but knew that there must be something there in order to get him this riled up. It did not take him long to see why either. Parked out here in the middle of nowhere was a large late model conversion van. The tracks in the snow were reasonably fresh, coming since the last snow two days before.

The things that Chris noticed right away were the two splotches of crimson that were on the ground. One of them was right next to the van, the splatter marks made as the bullets penetrated were clearly visible on the white vehicle. Chris went closer and looked at the splatter patterns.

"See why I called you out here, boss?" McNeil said, "I've never seen anything like it outside of a movie screen. You have."

"Yeah," Chris nodded, putting some rotten memories out of his head, "I've seen this type of thing before. How did you find it?

"I was doing my usual patrol here and saw the white van in the woods," McNeil said, "usually the only people out here this time of year are poachers. Figured I'd see if I could catch a couple of the pricks."

"Did you call in?" Chris asked him.

"Yeah," McNeil nodded, "Laura knew I was out here."

Laura Miller was another one of the deputies. She was a few years older than Chris and Vinnie, but she had a good head on her shoulders and was probably the best police officer Gabriel had on staff. He figured that she'd make a good sheriff someday if they could ever get women's lib to penetrate the boneheads in the rural areas of Boland Creek County.

"Good," Chris said, but a reprimand was not on his mind now, He was taking a closer look at the blood splatter on the ground.

"Is it?" Vinnie asked without specifying what. He wanted to know if Chris thought it was a murder.

"I think so," Chris said, "if it's a fake it's a damn good one. Have you called in the plate yet?"

"Not yet," McNeil said, "I wanted to wait for your judgment first."

"Treat this like a crime scene until we know different," Chris sighed, "call Laura and get her out here. Call the station after that and have Declan run the plate too. I'll call the state boys for a crime scene team."

"Right," McNeil nodded, "I'll get right on it."

Chris walked around the site and took a good look at the scene. He did not worry about leaving tracks, as enough people had already walked through this place to make track evidence useless. He looked closely at the splotches of blood that were the obvious locations of the bodies.

"They sat here a while," Chris noted, "they had time to bleed out."

Chris put on his gloves and went over to the van, opening the unlocked passenger door. The vehicle was a high dollar conversion van complete with bed spaces that looked lived in. There were some clothes, but very few personal items.

Gabriel then fished the registration out of the glove box and looked it over. It was recent and matched the plates. Matthew Ronald Jacobsen was the name on the paperwork, with an address out of Trenton, New Jersey.

"Who are you, Matthew?" Chris wondered as he looked over the paperwork, "Are you dead or just missing?"

Chris Gabriel merely shook his head and continued examining the scene while he pulled out a cell phone to call the state police. He dialed the number as he looked at the second set of splatter marks. He noticed the large congealed pool of blood in the second body pit as the phone rang.

"State Police," a voice said over the line, "Frank Otter speaking."

"Frank," Chris said as he crouched down to look closer, "it's Chris Gabriel over in Boland Creek."

"How the hell are you?" Frank Otter asked, "Like being a Sheriff?"

"Hell no," Chris said honestly, "it sucks. Especially when you get ones like this."

"Problem out there?" Otter asked him.

"I've got two nasty blood patches and what looks like a murder scene," Gabriel said, "bodies are gone though."

"That's odd," Otter said, "what do you need?"

"I want a crime scene team," Chris said, "I've been to enough murder scenes in my time. This looks authentic. I'm going to treat it that way until I know different."

"You got it," Otter agreed, "I know you too well, Chris. You wouldn't call us in unless you thought it was real."

"It's real," Chris nodded slowly, "give me a call on the cell when your people come out here."

"Will do, buddy," Otter said, "give Carrie my best."

"Always," Chris said, "hopefully this will turn out to be nothing and I'll see you at the poker game on Friday."

"We'll see," Frank Otter said, "but I know you. If you think it is a murder, it probably is. Catch you later, man."

"Later Frank," Chris said and dropped off the line.

He looked around the site and sighed, knowing that he had to be right. The only thing he could do at this point was wait for the crime scene investigation. He walked back to his Blazer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and waiting for people to show up.

## Chapter 3: South Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

The four men stood there around the table and looked at the inert body that was lying there. Tripton Mason's body, which was more corpse than human being when it was brought in, lay connected to more tubes and machines than were used in a nuclear reactor's control room.

"I can't believe this man is still alive," Michael Robinson, a brilliant young medical research scientist, said, "Another inch to the left and his heart would have stopped."

"The hypothermia kept him alive," Brian Gordon, a top surgical researcher, said, "It won't matter in the long run. He's been down too long."

"Good," project leader James Entragian said, "he's a perfect guinea pig for FTU-237."

"You can't be serious!" Gordon said, "We haven't even tried that crap on animals yet."

"Brian's right, James," Nathan Blake, the chief biochemist, reminded Entragian, "We don't even know what biological effects that stuff could have."

"No better way to find out," Entragian said, "we've researched this for nearly two years now. It will work, and even if it doesn't it could shave years off our research. The Pentagon wants this post haste."

"You're mad, James," Gordon said, "the Pentagon will have our asses if we jump to human testing."

"Who's going to find out?" Entragian asked, "Nobody knows we have this man and he would have died regardless. So we make some gains with his corpse that wouldn't have been possible otherwise. What's wrong with that?"

"Somebody shot him," Blake reminded Entragian, "I don't want to know where Elliot found him, but wherever it was it screwed up a crime scene."

"It's too late now though," Robinson said thoughtfully, "and we could use the data on FTU-237."

"You're insane!" Gordon protested, "We can't do this!"

"Don't get sanctimonious with me, Brian," James Entragian said, "we can learn so much from this!"

"He does have a point," Blake said, sighing, "We can learn a lot from it."

"I'd suggest that you make your decision quick," Robinson told them as he watched Mason's vitals, "in another ten minutes he'll be a corpse and there isn't a chance in hell the stuff will work."

"Let him die, guys," Brian Gordon implored them, "this is a line we don't need to cross."

"I say cross it and deal with it later," Entragian said, "we can handle this!"

"If we do it," Blake said, "make sure we do it right. Blood tests every hour and all vitals watched from beginning to end."

"You got it," Robinson said, "so are we going to do it?"

"Oh shit," Gordon sighed as he looked at Entragian, "you're going to do it."

"Put it in," Entragian instructed the younger man, "200 cc's of FTU-237 to start, do an IV drip from there."

"I'll have to whip up some more," Blake said, "there's probably not enough for a full IV."

"I'll start a slow drip," Robinson said, "that should give us a good indication on whether it will do anything."

"Jesus," Gordon said, "I'll monitor the instruments and hope it does nothing at all. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll die before it takes hold."

The four of them went about their tasks and started their work, taking detailed notes about everything they observed about how the formula interacted with the dying man's body. At this point they set in motion a series of events that they were not equipped to handle and a set that they were even less prepared to understand.

## Chapter 4: Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel sat in his office and massaged his temples. He'd been dealing with the crime scene people for hours and was glad to finally get away from them. Just like he did every long day he put in here, he found himself wishing that he'd never agreed to run for the lousy job. He was going to be late for dinner again. Something that he knew was not going to sit well with his wife, Carrie.

"Hey boss," Laura Miller said as she knocked on his door, "Declan just got the results on the plates."

"What took him so long?" Gabriel asked, "Should have been a simple check through the computers."

"The information was there," Laura said as she dropped the printout on his desk, "but the information didn't make sense. Declan couldn't find a corresponding license for the information."

"Great," Chris sighed, "what did you find?"

"I called a friend in Chicago," Laura explained, "Matthew Jacobsen doesn't exist. The address on his registration is fictitious. Belongs to a vacant lot on the south side."

"Lovely," Chris said, "was the tag fake?"

"It came up in the Illinois records," Laura said, "he faxed me everything he had. It's in the pile there."

"A pile for everything and everything in its pile," Chris grumbled, "ok, let me know when the lab work comes in. I'll look this over in a few."

"The state boys want to know who the local investigator is," Laura said, "which one of us gets stuck with it, basically."

"Me," Chris told her, "the rest of you weren't trained for this. I'm the only one who's actually worked a murder case like this before. My name will appear on the paperwork. It'll look better on the off chance it ever hits a jury."

"Think that'll happen in this case?" Laura wondered.

"Probably not," Chris admitted, "especially if we never find the bodies. But I want things tidy enough to go in front of a jury if it ever happens, got it?"

"Dot the I's and cross the t's," Laura smiled, "got it. Anything else you want us to do?"

"Have Vinnie ride by the Cable place again on his way home," Chris said, "make sure that Roger is minding his P's and Q's. I don't want him gracing our drunk tank again this week."

"You got it," Laura nodded, "anything else?"

"No," Chris said, and then thought better of it, "Wait. Did you check the VIN number on that van?"

"I don't think so," Laura said, "I know I didn't. I don't think Declan did either."

"Go ahead and run it," Chris said, "maybe whoever did it didn't cover it as well as they thought."

"Sure," Laura nodded, "you got it. You staying much longer?"

"No," Chris said, "this case isn't going to get much warmer. Who's got night duty tonight?"

"Declan is pulling a double," Laura said, "Larry Middleton will be in at one to relieve him."

"Has anyone relieved Larry of night duty in a while?" Chris asked, "He's always doing it."

"He loves it," Laura smiled, "he sits here and watches late night TV and gets paid for it. I don't think he'd go to days if you wanted him to."

"Just so long as he goes when he gets a call," Chris said, "I'm not going to argue. We still need two or three more people to cover everything."

"You'll have to fight the council on that," Laura said, "they're still mad at you for winning the election."

"Yeah," Chris chuckled, "sometimes I can see why. Anyway, go home and have a good night."

"You too," Laura said and walked out the door.

Chris Gabriel glanced through the stack of papers and decided to let it lie until the morning. He just could not force himself to worry too much about a murder scene that may well turn out not to be a murder scene. He put the paperwork in a folder on his desk and went out the door.

## Chapter 5: South Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

"Day three," James Entragian said into the recorder, "The progress that this man has made has been amazing. Wounds that were fatal three days ago are healing at a remarkable rate."

He flipped off the recorder and examined Mason's body. The progress that he'd made was nothing short of amazing. Because this was a scientific experiment first and foremost, they had dispensed with patient modesty in order to reveal the outer physical changes to his anatomy. Aside from the tubes and sensors going into him, he was completely naked.

"It's a miracle that he's even alive," Blake said, "by all rights he should have died days ago."

"I knew that FTU-237 would work," Entragian beamed, "that has to be what's doing it."

"We still don't know about the long term yet," Blake cautioned him, "it's working well right now, but in a week the effects may wear off or we may find out that he's a complete vegetable."

"You may be right about the vegetable," Robinson said as he walked into the room and tapped the encephalograph, "his brain activity has been nearly nil since we put him on the slop. His body may be healing but his mind may be a lost cause."

"Probably better that way," Blake said, "if his mind comes back we're going to have a hell of a lot more trouble."

"We're still learning a lot," Entragian said, "this is going to be the building blocks of a great thing."

"Yeah," Robinson nodded, "it looks promising."

"You here to check the instruments?" Blake asked him.

"Elliot wants a blood sample for the lab," Robinson said as he probed Mason's ribs a little, "he also wants to see the next set of sonograms."

"I'll bring him the sample," Entragian said, "go ahead and finish the readings for the period."

"Right," Robinson shrugged, "works for me. Elliot is in a mood again anyway."

Entragian drew blood through the tube that they kept in to avoid destroying the vein. He drew enough for a large sample and took it over to the laboratory that Elliot Sumner pretty much lived out of. Entragian closed the door behind him and put the blood sample on the table. He sat down and looked at Sumner.

"It's working better than we thought," Entragian told him, "I think we'll be able to take him off life support soon."

Elliot Sumner looked up at Entragian and nodded. They were a real Mutt and Jeff team. James Entragian was nearly six feet tall and very thin, while Sumner was a small man that very much resembled a pear. His thinning brown hair was combed over to the side and his thick glasses gave his eyes a rather enlarged look.

"Have they asked too many questions about where I got the body," Sumner asked him, "or that of the girl?"

"Not yet," Entragian shrugged, not caring about that, "If we have a problem it'll end up being Brian. He's still going apeshit because we're running a human test on this stuff."

"He's probably the only one who will realize just what is happening," Sumner said, "it was his research that allowed the breakthrough we were looking for."

"We'll deal with that if it happens," Entragian said, "check the blood and see how his white cell count is doing."

"Right," Sumner nodded and prepared the slide, "if it does what I think it will, we should be seeing some massive increases."

The little man put the slide under the microscope and looked at the blood Entragian drew from Mason's carcass. His eyes, already magnified by the glasses, went wider as he looked. He could not believe what he saw. He looked over at Entragian, who took the microscope spot and looked at the blood.

"Holy shit," Entragian said, "his white count is phenomenal!"

"Did you see the shape?" Sumner said, sounding almost excited, "It's mutating his white cells."

"Jesus," Entragian said, "this is great. Do you realize just what this means?"

"Yeah," Sumner nodded, "the pathogens are doing exactly what we thought they'd do. Blake is even more brilliant than we thought."

"He'll freak if he ever figures out what we are doing with his discovery," Entragian reminded him, "but it looks good so far."

"Another day or so you'll be able to take him off support," Sumner nodded, "especially if he continues healing like this."

"Too bad his brain is still fried," Entragian said, "we may never know how well this works."

"We need another body," Sumner said, "one that isn't brain dead."

"They'll never agree to it," Entragian said, "it's too early."

"Better to start planning now, James," Sumner said, "especially if this goes as well as I think it will."

"Keep the real results under wraps," Entragian instructed him, "give the others what you think they can handle."

"Keep an eye on Brian," Sumner said, "Robinson is naïve enough to believe that we're going to give all this over to the Pentagon. Blake is burned out enough not to care. That fucker Gordon is liable to get a case of conscience sooner or later."

"Do you still have the guns?" Entragian asked him, "The ones that Bolantine's boys gave us?"

"I have one in the case and two in the car," Sumner replied, "let's just hope that it doesn't come to that."

"Give me the one in the case," Entragian instructed him, "I may have a plan."

"I hope you don't need it," Sumner said as he passed the dirty pistol to his partner, "I'll get to work on obtaining subject number two. Bolantine isn't going to wait forever on this."

"No shit," Entragian agreed, "we're walking a fine line. If Blake, Robinson or Gordon figure out the deal we've made with him we're screwed."

They looked at each other nervously and finally Entragian smiled at his partner in crime. They both knew they were in deep, but had no course but to go on. The human testing was the only thing that was going to keep this project moving fast enough for them.

## Chapter 6: Gabriel Home, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel kicked back in his study and looked at his keyboard. He had a deadline on the novel he was working on, but he really didn't care too much about finishing it. He knew it was a complete piece of crap, but that did not faze him at all. His first one was not much better and it was still selling like gangbusters. He typed a few more lines of the garbage he was putting out and leaned back in his easy chair.

He took a few sips of his coke and looked at the screen for a bit. While he was trying to decide what plot twists to do next to keep the reader guessing he didn't notice the door open and his son walked into the room. Tommy Gabriel took a seat on the couch that graced one wall of the study and waited for his father to come to a breaking point before interrupting.

"What's up, Tommy?" Chris asked him finally, "Is your mother home yet?"

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "she's down in the kitchen. Just figured I'd see what you were up to."

Chris Gabriel once was better known by his birth name of Christopher Healy. His twin brother, Jerry, went on a killing spree back when they were both fifteen. It was a mess that ended up pitting brother against brother, with Chris being the lone survivor. The only one who stuck with him through the whole process was his girlfriend Carrie, who during their one encounter on the day Jerry Healy died became pregnant. Thomas Matthew Gabriel was the result, a result that Chris himself did not find out about until years later.

"Mulling over the book and the murder scene," Chris told his son honestly, "the book is nearly done and the murder case isn't going anywhere. How did your track meet go?"

"I came in third," Tommy shrugged, "I just need to run some more."

"I know that feeling," Chris chuckled, "I should still be doing my physical therapy exercises."

"Did you ever find anything out there?" Tommy asked him, curious about the job his father did.

"A whole lot of nothing," Chris shrugged, "van wasn't stolen but it doesn't belong to anyone who we can track down. The blood does not match anything we have on file and neither do the fingerprints. The state boys are still trying to match them through the feds."

"Bleh," Tommy said, "sounds like you're not having much luck."

"Not really," Chris admitted, "feel like a round on the Playstation?"

"As long as it's not a light gun game," Tommy grinned, "I'm sick of losing to you on those."

"Bushido blade?" Chris asked him, smiling at his son, "You licked me at that last time."

"You're on," Tommy laughed.

Chris reflected on the fact that having a son only fifteen years younger than him was not so bad at times. He saved his work and went downstairs with Tommy, nearly tripping over his second son Jason while he did so. Jason was playing with his hot wheels at the bottom of the stairs again, much to the consternation of his father who had all he could do to walk from one place to another without tripping.

"Having fun kiddo?" Chris asked his son.

Jason, all of three years old, merely looked up at his father and nodded happily. Chris sighed and bent over to rustle his son's hair. Tommy chuckled as he looked at his father struggle to get past Jason.

"Knee bothering you again, dad?" Tommy asked him.

"It hasn't stopped since I was nearly your age," Chris grumbled, "go ahead and set up the game. I'll be there in a minute. Going to go down a pain pill."

"All right," Tommy nodded.

Carrie Gabriel was in the kitchen playing with a recipe that she'd downloaded off the internet earlier in the day. Despite the fact that she was pregnant with their third child, she still did the cooking. This was not male chauvinism on Chris's part, but simple survival skill on her part. Chris had food poisoned himself with his cooking more than once over the years, a risk Carrie simply was not willing to take while pregnant.

"What's up, Chris?" Carrie asked him as she chopped an onion, "Any luck with the writing?"

"Same old crap," Chris shrugged, "mind is still somewhere else."

"You still take it too personally," Carrie said as she chopped, "I sometimes think you're still chasing your brother in a way."

"It becomes a way of life, you know," Chris shrugged as he took a carrot off the table, "it's the one thing I know how to do well."

"Well," Carrie chuckled and patted her enlarged abdomen, "not the only thing, my dear."

"Funny," Chris chuckled and kissed her, "I'm going to go play with Tommy for a bit."

"Dinner in an hour," Carrie grinned, "don't beat him too bad this time."

"Nahhh," Chris grinned, "Bushido Blade this time. He won't risk the simulator again."

"Smart kid," Carrie said, "I'm sure that living with Rael made sure you learned how to shoot well."

"Twice a week until college. I had beaten half the department's qualification scores by the time I graduated from high school," Chris admitted, "anyway, he's waiting."

"Have fun," Carrie smiled and went back to her cooking.

Chris and Tommy played the game for the better part of an hour, with Chris losing most every match because his mind was on a white conversion van and two splotches blood in the snow. Tommy was up by over twenty matches when the front doorbell rang.

"Ok," Chris chuckled, "you've wailed on me enough for one night. I'll get the door."

"Good game, Dad," Tommy chuckled.

Chris Gabriel stood up and made his way over to the door. He was surprised to find that it was Frank Otter from the state police at his door. Frank usually only came up every few weeks for the poker game, which was not scheduled for another week or so. The fact that he was in uniform meant that he had not gone home first, which Chris found odd.

"What brings you here so late?" Chris asked him, "You're about a week early for the poker game."

"I knew you wanted these," Frank shrugged and handed a pile of folders to Gabriel, "I had to go to Centerville for a prisoner pickup and figured I'd drop it in person."

"We actually got an ID from the fingerprints?" Chris asked as he glanced at the files, surprised, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Only one set," Frank said, "a woman by the name of Alecia Tracer. Nothing major on her, but she had a prostitution arrest in Seattle about five years ago. The other one didn't come up in the criminal records. The other folders are the lab reports."

"So victim #1 is probably Tracer," Chris said, "female, type AB blood. Shot at least twice."

"Yeah," Frank nodded, "good a guess as any. I got the file by fax from Seattle. It's still your case though, so I figured your people could check up on it."

"I'll call a couple friends from the Bureau up there," Chris said as he flipped through the paperwork, "they can probably look into her background for me. Anything in here on that VIN?"

"Everything is kosher with that," Frank said, "possibly too kosher. The van was listed as sold to Matthew Jacobsen, paid in full. There was no paper, but the man doesn't exist. Not even a driver's license on file. Someone covered that mother well."

"I'll look into that," Chris said, "the damn thing had to come from somewhere. So did the blood."

"No argument from me," Frank agreed, "lab boys agree with you. Too much blood for it not to be fatal and the splatter marks were too well done for it to be a fake. I doubt we'll ever find the killers though."

"I'll keep working on it," Chris shrugged, "I gotta keep my hands in it somehow."

"Always," Frank chuckled, "what is that I smell?"

"Carrie's spaghetti sauce," Chris said, "she should be done soon. Want to stay long enough for some food?"

"Sounds like fun to me," Frank grinned, glad to not have to hit McDonalds, "Did she make enough?"

"This is Carrie we're talking about here..." Chris chuckled, "She always makes enough for an army."

"Well," Frank said, patting his oversized stomach, "Let's see how much of an army I can be..."

## Chapter 7: Pentagon Briefing Room, Washington, DC

Colonel Richard Strader rubbed his temples and tried to forget about the excess amounts of vodka he had taken in the night before. The fifty-two year old army officer ignored the dozens of no smoking signs around and lit up one of the unfiltered camel cigarettes he had been smoking for over thirty years. He stretched out a little and flattened out his uniform so he would look at least reasonably presentable when called in.

He received his summons from a corporal that was serving menial duty there and put his cigarette out in the cup of coffee. He straightened his hat and marched through the door like the soldier he was. If you looked at his stern face and relatively good physique, you could almost forget that he was an alcoholic who was nearing the end of his career.

Colonel Strader faced the two Generals who had summoned him. He was determined to at least look like a competent soldier, even though his reputation and file had long preceded him. General Allan Collard, a three star from the army, looked over the Colonel and was pleased to see that he at least tried to look presentable. General Russell Moreland, a two star that controlled a good chunk of R&D, was less pleased that they were calling on this man.

"Colonel Richard Strader, reporting as ordered, sir!" Strader said, snapping off a crisp salute that hurt his head from the speed.

"At ease Colonel," General Collard said, "were you told what this would be about?"

"No sir," Col. Strader said honestly, though he expected yet another reprimand, "I was just told to report here at this time."

"Your record indicates that you've spent some time in investigations," General Moreland said, "still remember how to do it?"

"It's been a while," Colonel Strader shrugged, "but I still know what to do. So you want to send me out as an investigator?"

"That's correct," General Collard said, "as you're probably aware, we fund many research projects. We don't have the time or manpower to check them all as thoroughly as we want to."

"All right," Colonel Strader agreed, "so you want me to check out a few of these research teams?"

"Yes," General Moreland nodded, "we have a few that are on the black side that we need to have investigated. It will take time, but it won't be overly difficult."

"Black side?" Strader asked.

"This project is cleared top secret," General Moreland stressed as he passed a folder to the colonel, "you can't talk to anyone about this. No friends, no family. You go to these projects and make sure they are actually doing something."

"I don't know how much of it I will understand," Strader said as he flipped through the folder, "I came up in the infantry. The science is well beyond me."

"That's part of why we chose you," General Collard smiled, "we don't expect you to understand what they are doing. Makes it less of a security risk. You're just going through making sure that they aren't flimflamming us completely."

"We also want to make sure they aren't breaking the law with their testing," General Moreland added, "you're to look for illegal testing as well, especially any hints of human testing. We're not concerned as much about the scientific validity at this point."

"Sounds easy enough," Strader nodded, "I can do it."

"I know about your personal problems," General Collard warned Strader, "ever since your wife left you, you have been at best unreliable. You need to work on your drinking, Strader. We decided to give you this opportunity as a chance to straighten up. If you don't change your ways soon, your son is going to outrank you before long."

Adam Strader, one of Richard's two children, was an up and coming officer in the tank corps. At the age of 29 he was already a captain and embarrassed by the personal dissolution of his father. Richard Strader was a train wreck waiting to happen, and every one of his fitness reports from the past year stated it. They were mainly just waiting for him to hit his thirty years so he could be pensioned off to drink himself to death.

"Right sir," Strader said, having heard this before, "When do I start?"

"You leave tomorrow morning," Moreland told him, "the file contains a list of the places we want you to check out. There are a total of fourteen of them. You've got time. Just spend a little time at each one and send us a report on each one."

"I'll check them out," Colonel Strader agreed, "you'll get the reports as soon as I can get them typed out."

"Dismissed, Colonel," General Collard said.

Richard Strader straightened up and snapped off a crisp salute to the two Generals. They nodded and he left the room, leaving the two Generals alone to decide what they thought about the man they'd given an investigative job to.

"Do you think he'll find anything?" Moreland asked Collard.

"That man probably couldn't find his ass in the bathroom," Collard smiled, "that's why I chose him. I really don't want to stop the results coming in, but the congressmen are becoming annoying. Strader will most likely go in, not notice anything, and do his report. He won't want to rock the boat because he wants his pension next year."

"Good," General Moreland grinned, "looks like personnel sent us the man we needed then."

"Indeed," Collard nodded, "whose turn is it to buy the bottle this week?"

"I believe it's Jack Kelly's turn," Moreland said, "He lost last week..."

## Chapter 8: South Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian stretched out his long legs and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. He had not slept for nearly thirty-six hours because he was so enthralled with his research on the man they had dubbed as superman. He cleaned off his glasses and looked at the form of the man on the table.

Most men start losing muscle form after being immobile for nearly a week, but Tripton Mason had not showed any signs of this. Despite the rotten shape he was in when he was shot he was actually regaining muscle mass. The paunch on his stomach also began to recede, though they could not tell if it was due to the chemical effects on his body or if it was because he was on a liquid diet.

Michael Robinson was stirring from his position on the couch when Nathan Blake walked into the room. Blake was one of those rare sorts who slept less than four hours a night, so he was still bright eyed as he started examining superman's legs. He also spent some time looking at the EEG output. Entragian stood up and went over to join the older man.

"He's still brain dead," Blake said, "but he may well have been that way when we got him."

"There hasn't been a lick of motion in that way in days," Entragian agreed, "but the way he's going we'll be able to take him off life support at any time."

"We need another test subject," Blake said, "I'd love to see what this does on someone who isn't brain dead."

"We've been thinking the same thing," Entragian said, "Elliot and I, that is."

"You have to be kidding," Robinson said, sitting up in interest, "where would we find someone that was going to die anyway?"

"Oncology ward," Entragian suggested, "slip out someone who's near the end of the cancer cycle. Someone who's nearly dead anyway."

"The cancer may invalidate the tests," Blake warned, "you don't know how it will react?"

"So we dispose of three bodies instead of the two we already have," Entragian shrugged, "it'll be cheap at the price."

"Brian will go nuts," Robinson warned, "he's already livid that we've gone this far with this one."

"He's not running this project," Entragian reminded the younger man, "I am. This isn't a democracy. We're getting a whole pile of data from this that we'll never get anywhere else."

"Just have to be careful," Blake said, "we get caught doing this we'll be going to jail for a long time."

"There's a crematorium down the street," Entragian smiled, "when they die we just run them through, just like we have our test cadavers."

"I can't believe we're thinking about this," Robinson said, "experimenting on humans is going over the line."

"It's a line that needs to be crossed if we're going to progress with this," Entragian said, "we'll never get this kind of results with animals."

"Will Elliot go along?" Robinson asked.

"He's got a plan ready to go," Entragian said, "I was going to talk to you two."

"Robinson is right," Blake said, "Brian will go nuts when he finds out."

"He's implicated now," Entragian smiled, "if he goes to the pentagon his career ends too."

"We'll worry about it when the time comes," Blake said and looked over at the body, "I can't believe he's survived this long on the stuff."

"Are his eyes moving?" Entragian asked, looking closely at Mason's eyelids, "I must be tired. That looks a lot like REM sleep."

"Impossible," Robinson said, "the man is a turnip."

"Check the EEG," Blake ordered, "make sure."

"Flatline," Robinson said as he looked at the printout, "there hasn't been a twitch since we put him on the sauce."

"If that isn't REM sleep then I don't know what is," Entragian said as he looked at Mason's eyes, "hand me the flashlight, eh Nate?"

"Sure," Blake said and took position on the other side, handing the light to his boss, "Let's check the connection on the EEG as well."

Entragian lifted Tripton Mason's eyelid, looking at his pupils. The pupils were still dilated and did not follow the light at all. Robinson checked the instrument connections and found that they were still normal. The eyes were moving, but there was no rhyme or reason to them.

"That's very strange," Entragian said, "we need to get a second subject and soon."

"I don't want to know," Blake said, making a decision, "Just do what you got to do."

"Right," Entragian nodded, "do a full physical on this man. Elliot and I will handle the acquisition."

"Get a few hours of sleep first," Robinson recommended, "you look like hell."

"I'll consider it," Entragian nodded as he walked out of the room.

"Arrogant cuss, isn't he?" Robinson asked Blake.

"Always was," Blake shrugged, "this shouldn't surprise you."

"You think we'll get through this?" Robinson wondered, "Without getting arrested?"

"Only time will tell," Blake sighed, "but I think it's worth it. What we're learning will change the world."

"Yeah," Robinson nodded, "but will it change it for the better?"

It was a question that neither one of them had the answer to.

## Chapter 9: Inside Tripton Mason's Mind, Boland Creek,NY

The light was enough to make Mason's consciousness blink. Despite the lack of readings on the EEG outside, his mind was indeed operating. The thought processes were slowly processing the unfocused sights coming from the eye that was opened by James Entragian.

"Where am I?" Mason thought, "Is this what it's like to be dead?"

These thoughts were slow in coming, however, as he felt like he was operating through a thick veil of molasses. He had no control of his body at this point, mainly just a vague awareness of existence. It was as if he were a prisoner inside his own body, unable to move or do anything more than basic thoughts.

"Can anyone hear me?" Mason's mind tried to yell, though his voice was still far from his grasp.

His mind tried to go through the possibilities, but even his memory was failing. Finally, his mind quieted down again and went back into the semi-conscious state he had been in for several days, listening and waiting for his body to catch up with his mind.

## Chapter 10: First Class Lounge, Reagan Airport, Washington, DC

Colonel Strader smoked his cigarette as he drained his second double scotch. His flight was not due to leave for another hour and a half, so he felt comfortable tossing down a few before he got on the plane. He put the glass down on the table and looked for the bartender.

"Another one, Colonel?" the man asked.

"Yes," Strader said without hesitation, "another one, and then probably another after that."

"Very good sir," the bartender nodded.

Strader smoked his unfiltered cigarette down as far as he could and then lit a second with the butt before crushing it in the ashtray. He knew it would be a few hours before he could smoke freely again, so he wanted to get as much nicotine into his blood as he could.

A young captain walked in to the airport bar and sighed. Adam Strader had been watching his father fall apart for nearly two years, so finding him drinking scotch really did not surprise him much. It was disappointing to be sure, but not much of a surprise.

Adam went over to where his father was sitting and quietly sat down next to him in an empty bar seat. Richard looked over at his son and finished the scotch quickly. They had not seen each other in nearly a year, so he was surprised to see Adam in the bar. Adam Strader had long vowed not to let alcohol kill his career as it was doing to his father's.

"So what brings you here, Adam?" the colonel asked him, "Come to see the old man off or join him in the bottle?"

"Neither one," Adam said truthfully, "just wanted to find out if you'd taken the investigative job or not."

"So you heard about that, huh?" Richard shrugged, "Yeah, I took it. Looks like I'll add a few more pages to the pentagon paper vault."

"Good," Adam said and then noticed the bartender, "ginger ale for me, please."

The bartender nodded and looked at the elder Strader. Richard tapped the rim of his glass and was given another scotch and water, his fourth one of the day. Adam simply sipped on his ginger ale and looked at his father's face, which had aged quite a lot in the year or so since they had last seen each other.

"How are Tracy and your son?" Richard asked, lighting another cigarette, "You named him Glen, right?"

"Yeah," Adam nodded, fighting the urge to cough from the thick cigarette smoke, "Named him after your father."

"You didn't come here just to check on my new job, did you?" Richard asked his son.

"Nope," Adam admitted, "I heard some scuttlebutt that I thought you should know about before going into this."

"Really," Richard said, "do tell."

"There's rumors of human testing going on," Adam said, "stuff that congress is trying to find out about and the brass is trying to cover up."

"That's what I'm going in to find out," The Colonel said as he finished his scotch, "that's what General Collard asked me to specifically look for."

"Think about it dad," Adam said honestly, "you're a colonel that's gotten nothing but bad fitness reports for the last two years. You're a full blown alcoholic and can barely function most of the time."

"Gee thanks," Richard said dryly.

"It's the truth," Adam said patiently, "and another thing to think about. Why would they choose someone with your record to do the investigation when congress is blowing a mass of hot air in their direction about it?"

"I've been in the military for nearly thirty years," Richard told his son, "I've got a number of friends, some of whom want to see me succeed."

"Not that much," Adam said, shaking his head, "Most of them want to see you retire when you hit your thirty next year. They don't want to put you up to this type of scrutiny."

"So why do you think I'm here?" Richard asked his son indignantly, "Do you think they want me to fail?"

"Yes," Adam said flat out, "I think they sent you because they think you'll be blinded by the bottle enough not to notice what's in front of your face."

"That's not fair..." Richard said, though his words lacked conviction.

"Like hell it isn't," Adam said, "ever since Mom started fucking that guy who's only a few years older than me you've been a wreck. You fell into the bottle and haven't looked back. Well, it's fucking time to look back, dad!"

"Why do you care?" Richard wondered, "You didn't seem to care last time I saw you."

"I don't know sometimes," Adam said, "you're not the easiest man to care about. But this isn't just about you either. If the army is doing testing on humans it will be bad for everyone. You, me, and everyone who has ever worn a uniform."

"So what do you want from me?" Richard asked him.

"Dry out for your inspection," Adam said, "try staying sober a few weeks. See how it feels. I bet you'll feel a lot better."

"I'll consider it," Richard nodded, thinking about the situation, "Where did you find out this stuff?"

"A buddy of mine works over in procurement," Adam told him, "he's been getting some strange requests out of some of those groups. He's been hearing a lot of scuttlebutt and found out about your trip today. Figured I'd talk to you before you left."

"I appreciate it," Richard said, "I have a plane to catch in a few minutes."

"Good luck," Adam said, "I think you'll need it."

"Probably," Richard agreed, putting his cigarette out, "Thanks son."

Adam Strader nodded and decided to head out of there. He'd made his plea, though he really didn't expect it to do any good. Richard watched his son go and then thought about another drink. He rubbed his temples and lit another cigarette, not knowing what to do. He'd been drinking for so long he didn't know if he could stop.

"Would you like another drink sir?" the bartender asked him.

"No," Richard Strader said quietly, "thank you."

The Colonel paid his tab and left the bar quickly, thinking all along the way. He wanted to know if they really did choose him because they thought he would not rock the boat. He knew that he had not been the most useful member of the armed forces in the past couple years, but had he degenerated that much?

He got onto the plane and strapped himself into his seat, letting his drunken mind ponder the thought. It was not a pleasant self look, but he knew it needed to be done. The only question he had was whether it would do any good in the long run. Those questions were still on his mind as he watched the ground get smaller.

## Chapter 11: Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel paced around his office while he waited for someone to patch him through to one of his old friends in the FBI. He had left the bureau in good standing nearly a year before and still was on good terms with most of the people he worked with. He had spent nearly five years working on little but serial killer cases, something that is sure to burn out nearly anyone.

"Roeder here," a voice very familiar to him said.

"Benny," Chris said with a smile, "It's Chris Gabriel."

"How's it going man?" Special Agent Benjamin Roeder asked him, "How's life in podunkville. Still writing your books?"

"I got drafted into being a sheriff," Chris chuckled, "would you believe I actually won an election?"

"You?" Roeder asked, surprised, "I thought you'd had enough of law enforcement?"

"Yes," Chris agreed, "I did until Carrie and I logged six bullshit tickets due to that corrupt son of a bitch who was here before. I ran an anticorruption platform and won a landslide. So are you working with the psych department still?"

"Hell no," Roeder said, "I finally got out of that. I'm in witness protection now. Working the runners program."

"Sounds like fun," Chris nodded, "that one is usually fairly low maintenance."

"It is when it goes well," Roeder chuckled, "been a rough week for me, one of my people hasn't reported in and it's driving me nuts. Nothing you can do about that though. What have you got?"

"I've got a really strange one here," Chris told him, "a probable double murder. Two blood splotches and a whole lot of circumstantial evidence."

Chris Gabriel explained a few minutes about what he had been dealing with for over a week and then explained about what Frank Otter had given him the night before. Roeder listened and grunted. He never did like the weird cases, and that was definitely what this one qualified as.

"Sounds lovely," Benny scowled, "how can I help you with it?"

"I was hoping you could do a quick lookup on the prints we identified," Chris asked him, "I don't have the budget to send people to Seattle."

"Got names?" Roeder asked.

"Tracer," Chris told him, reading from the paper, "Alecia J. Picked up for prostitution in Seattle a few years ago."

Ben Roeder nearly dropped the phone when he heard that name. Chris noticed it immediately and knew he had struck a chord. He waited for Benny Roeder to come to his senses and tell him what was going on. It took nearly three minutes for Benny to regain his composure.

"Jesus," Benny said, "how's this for dumb luck?"

"Your missing witness," Chris surmised.

"Yeah," Benny sighed, "the van was registered to a fictitious name, wasn't it?"

"Good call," Chris agreed, "want me to fax you the fingerprint sets we have?"

"Sure," Benny said, "they've got to belong to Trip."

"Trip?" Chris asked.

"Tripton Mason," Roeder explained, "he's the guy who was running Alecia around."

"Rael used to work for a guy by that name," Chris said, "same one?"

"Probably," Roeder agreed, "he worked his thirty for the local police in Raleigh NC before taking retirement and signing on with us. Great duty if you like to travel. Pays pretty good too."

"Only if you don't get killed," Chris muttered, "you think my blood splotches are a match for your people?"

"Since you pulled up Tracer's name," Roeder grumbled, "got any proof on the other one?"

"Fax number still the same?" Chris asked him, "I'll send you the sets of prints we got from the van."

"Did you do it?" Roeder asked him, worried about case integrity.

"I let the state crime lab do it," Chris told him, "I don't have the equipment."

"Yeah," Benny told him, "send it through."

Chris dialed the long memorized number and put the print sheet with the clearest prints in. He listened to the modem start and went back to the phone as it went through. Ben Roeder went and picked up the sheet as it came out of the fax machine and went over to the phone as he superficially compared the sheet with the dossier of Trip Mason he had on his desk.

"Fuck," Benny Roeder said into the phone, "Looks like I'll be coming out for a visit. I'll have latent compare them a bit better. If they match, and I know damn well they will, I'll be coming out to take this one off your hands. It becomes a federal crime because Mason was one of my agents."

"I sure as hell won't fight you on it," Chris chuckled, "I could probably work the case, but I don't have the resources or information on it you do. Come on out and it's yours."

"Fuck," Benny Roeder repeated, "we haven't lost a runner in years. Why the hell do we lose one my first month on the watch?"

"Nothing you could have done," Chris said, "call me and let me know what your plans are. I'll get the files ready for you."

"Thanks," Roeder said, "I'll call you tomorrow."

Roeder clicked down the phone, leaving Chris sitting with the phone at his desk. He just shook his head. He had spent years in law enforcement and he was still often amazed at how big a role random chance played in solving crimes. Most criminals didn't get away with things because they were good. Most of them got away with it because they were lucky.

"Coffee's ready, boss," Vinnie McNeil said as he popped his head into the office, "want some?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded and let out a deep breath, "I'll be out in a sec."

He put the information in the file and put it down on his desk, going out to join his deputies for some coffee, something Carrie would not let him have at home anymore. He figured his involvement in the case would soon be over. He did not know how wrong he was. It was just the beginning.

## Chapter 12: Boland Creek Regional Medical Center, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian pushed back his unruly hair and readjusted his glasses. He looked at Elliot Sumner, who nodded his approval. It was nearly three in the morning and the small hospital was nearly deserted. They slipped in wearing doctor's coats and went straight up to the third floor.

"Where are the nurses?" James asked Elliot, "Isn't there supposed to be someone here at all times?"

"The on duty doctor is down in emergency," Elliot explained, his round face smiling, "The nurses are at the duty station down the hall. I turned off the security system an hour ago, so there's no cameras. If we go in and out the back elevator they'll never see us, especially if you can hot-wire the instruments."

"No problem there," Entragian shrugged, "I figure we'll hook them to a neighboring patient and nobody will know the difference until we're gone."

"This time of night it's doubtful anyone will notice the blip," Elliot agreed, "we'll wheel the subject out the back, down the elevator and into the van. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

Entragian nodded as they walked purposefully towards the elevator. Motion was nearly nonexistent in the small hospital as the elevator came down to the first floor. They went quickly and slipped into the ten bed oncology ward. It was small by most standards, but it was more than ample for the small county. Only six of the beds were actually occupied.

"Which one should we take?" Elliot asked James, "This is your project."

"We've got a male," Entragian said as he looked over the patients, "probably should take one of the women."

"That brings us down to two," Elliot said, "charts are at the foot of the bed."

"This one is too healthy," Entragian whispered, "just got here. Someone will notice quickly."

"This one doesn't look so hot," Elliot told him, "looks like she's at the end of the cycle."

"Karen Dean," Entragian said, reading the chart, "She's been in and out of consciousness for months. Too weak to do anything, too tough to die."

"She's perfect," Elliot said, "you work the instruments, I'll give her an extra dose of morphine to keep her asleep while we move her."

"Right," James nodded as he checked out the equipment, "primitive stuff here."

"Don't need much," Elliot shrugged, "nothing is going to save these people. They're too far gone."

James Entragian nodded as he worked the clips on the monitoring device. He used spare cables from one of the idle devices to cross over to the patient next to Karen Dean's bed. One by one, he quickly switched the cables over so that the monitor was reading the man next to her instead of her.

"Easy as pie," James said, "now let's get her on the gurney and get her out of here."

The two of them lifted Karen up slowly and placed her on the gurney. It was not all that much of a task, as the cancer had shriveled the woman down to less than 100 pounds despite a height of five foot eight inches. They took the oxygen bottle and put it beside her on the gurney so as not to have to deal with it later.

"Let's go," Elliot said as they wheeled her out of the oncology ward, "we've got her."

"Let's save the pat on the back for when we get out of here," James warned, "we still have to get out of the building before we can call ourselves safe."

It was a foregone conclusion. The little hospital did not have much security and most of it was disabled when Elliot turned the automation off. The single guard was chatting up a nurse on the other end of the building while James and Elliot kidnapped Karen Dean. They quickly loaded the gurney into the ambulance with James going in the back with her.

"I'm going to start administering," Entragian said, "I brought some FTU-237 with me."

"Sooner the better," Elliot Sumner nodded, "give Brian something less to bitch about."

"Or something more," James said and shrugged, "it's no matter. We will deal with Brian when we have to. Luckily he isn't coming in tomorrow, so we've got some time."

Elliot nodded and remained silent for the rest of the drive as James started the protocol administration on Karen, who mercifully was out cold due to the morphine and the advanced nature of her cancer.

## Chapter 13: Motel Six, Albany, NY

Richard Strader typed his second report on the laptop that he'd been issued the day before. Computers were certainly not his strong point and he was doing the best he could do with his hunt and peck typing. He stopped and looked at the machine, holding back the string of four letter words that were building.

"God damn," Strader said as he looked at the monitor, "I need a drink."

So far he had been actually listening to his son and not drinking. He was feeling the pull of the alcohol on him, but he'd been successfully ignoring it for nearly three days. The cigarettes were another matter altogether, but one he figured he could live with for the moment. He sat back and smoked as he pondered between continuing his typing and going for the bottle of Excedrin on the nightstand.

The choice became moot when the telephone started ringing, making the headache he had even worse. He went over and picked up the line, trying to keep himself from cursing as he did so.

"Strader," he said into the line.

"You've got a call from a General Collard," the operator said.

"Put him through," Strader said, wondering why he was getting called already.

"Colonel," General Collard said, "how is the search going?"

"Haven't found anything so far," Strader said, "working up my first reports now."

"Good," Collard said approvingly, "we're getting some strange rumbles out of James Entragian's shop. We want you to go there next. Congress is breathing down my neck about that one. Evidently one of their people has been sending out alarmist signals out. Find out who it is and talk to them, be sure to put it in the report."

"Right," Strader said, "I'd planned on seeing the other one up here first, but if it's important I'll drive down to Boland Creek in the morning."

"Which one will you be skipping?" Collard asked him.

"Imperial Blue Research," Strader said, "not high on my list anyway."

"Do a walkthrough and head down to Boland Creek," Collard suggested, "I know the people at Imperial Blue. They're mostly civilian medical anyway. Probably be in and out before the end of the day. You can tour it then write the report after you've gone to Entragian's place."

"That works," Colonel Strader said, "I'm up for not having to travel so much."

"Get Entragian's group done as fast as possible," Collard told him, "you can wait until tomorrow morning, but no longer. I want that report by the end of the week."

"Will do, General," Col. Strader agreed.

General Collard rang off the line and left Strader holding a dead telephone. He growled and put the phone down on the cradle. He then picked up the bottle of Excedrin and shook three of them out, downing them with a cola from the fridge. He sat back down and started hunt and pecking again.

"Something hinky eh?" Strader said to himself, "Well, we'll just have to see what I can find."

He sat back down at his laptop and continued with his hunt and peck report in an attempt to keep himself from thinking about going down to the bar he saw on the way in. It was a fight that he'd win for the night, making it day three of sobriety. He had a feeling it would get worse as he continued. He was right.

## Chapter 14: Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel sat with Benny Roeder in his office. It had already been a long day for Roeder, having left his office at four in the morning to make it up to Gabriel's neck of the woods. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like hell, which was not surprising since he had not slept since Gabriel had called him the day before.

"You look like shit, Benny," Gabriel said, "want a cup of coffee?"

"Been living on it all night," Roeder chuckled, "latent prints confirmed the identification. It's Trip Mason's prints all over the van. Blood type matches too. Will take a couple weeks on DNA, but I have no doubt there."

"Well," Chris said, "that makes it yours. Not sorry to see it go either."

"Yeah," Roeder chuckled, "I'm sure you're not. So how do you like it up here in podunkville?"

"Not too bad," Chris told him, "it's quiet. These are only the second murders we've had. First was a battered wife that shot her husband. Girl turned herself in and pled guilty. Easiest murder case I've ever seen."

"Nice," Roeder said, "wish I could get some like that once in a while."

"I'd prefer not to have to deal with those at all," Chris said, "so what's your next step?"

"Look at the evidence you have," he shrugged, "can you take me out to the crime scene?"

"I've got to mind the shop today," Chris told him, "I'll send Laura Miller out with you though. She's bright and was working the scene with me."

"Good enough," Roeder said.

"Chris," Lorene Pittman, the daytime dispatcher said as she poked her head into the office, "Declan is on the phone. He needs to talk to you."

"What about?" he asked.

"He's over at the hospital," Lorene told him, "sounds like they may have a kidnapping and he wants you in on it."

"Shit," Chris sighed, "this just isn't my month. Do you need anything else from me, Benny?"

"I'll be looking at the files for an hour or so anyway," Roeder shrugged, "then I'll find a motel and get some sleep."

"No need," Chris said, "you can crash at my place. If you need sleep before then, use the couch in my office."

"Thanks," Roeder chuckled, "the expense people will love you!"

Chris went out to take the phone, but stopped to give Lorene some instructions before he took it. She looked at him with her vacant eyes, proving once again that she was an aging bimbo who was barely qualified to hold the job she did. Chris knew he'd have to replace her eventually.

"When Laura comes in tell her that she's to stay with Agent Roeder," Chris told her, "take him anywhere he needs to go and make sure he gets all the assistance he needs."

"Right," Lorene said and wrote it down. At least she knew her limitations.

"This is Gabriel," Chris said into the phone, "what's this about a kidnapping, Declan?"

"You'll have to come down here," Declan said, "if I try to explain this one over the phone you're going to think I've lost it."

"Great," Chris sighed, "another weird one. Is it a child?"

"No," Declan said, "a fifty-four year old terminal cancer patient."

"Say what?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Like I said," Declan told him, "you'll have to come down so I can explain."

"I'll be there in ten," Chris said, "where in the place are you?"

"Third floor," Declan said, "oncology ward."

"See you in a few," Chris said and put the phone down.

Chris drove over to the hospital quickly, not liking what was going on in his town. He parked out front and walked in to the small county hospital. At three stories it was the largest building in town, but that was because it served the entire county as well as often dealing with parts of neighboring counties as well. He took the same elevator up to see Declan Collins that Entragian and Sumner had used to take Karen Dean out.

"Morning sheriff," the nurse said, "your man is in the ward."

"Thanks," Chris said, "how bad is it?"

"She's gone," the nurse said, "don't know why anyone would bother. Karen has been with us since we opened the ward six years ago. Girl hasn't had a completely lucid day in the last two years thanks the drugs. Her body was just too stubborn to die."

"Lovely," Chris said, "what the hell is going on in this town this month?"

"Same question I've been asking boss," Declan Collins said as he walked out, "I told you it was one you needed to see to believe."

Declan Collins was a tall man in his late thirties. The only holdover from the previous staffing of this department, Collins was as honest as could be, but did not have the skills to be anything more than a deputy. But he was a good solid deputy that was loyal and Collins himself was happy to finally have a sheriff worth being loyal to.

"Could she be misplaced in the hospital?" Chris asked hopefully.

"First thing we did when I came in," Declan told him, "four of us searched the hospital. They're missing a gurney and she's nowhere to be found."

"And you're quite sure she's incapable of movement," Chris asked them.

"She hasn't moved on her own in at least two years," the nurse told him, "her legs are so atrophied now she couldn't hold herself up if she managed to wake up."

"I can't fucking believe this," Chris said in exasperation, "how come your people didn't notice?"

"Come on in here and I'll show you," the nurse said, "this is the reason we think she was taken."

Chris followed them into the ward and looked at the strange wiring job that was done over near the empty bed. He looked at it closely, but not touching it at all. Declan did not know what it meant but Chris certainly did. He was familiar enough with the instruments to realize what had been done.

"They hot-wired her instruments to read her neighbor's vitals," Chris said, "whoever did this knew what they were doing."

"Exactly," the nurse said, "that's why I don't think it's a mundane thing."

"You're right," Chris sighed, "I'm going to call Frank Otter again."

"Sorry boss," Declan said.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Chris said, "got a phone I can use, ma'am?"

"You can use the one in the nurse's station," the nurse told him.

"Thanks," Chris sighed, "Frank is going to be pissed."

"Nothing you can do," Declan said.

They walked out to the nurse's station and Chris picked up the phone. He dialed the number he had long ago memorized for Frank Otter's office and waited patiently for someone to pick up. The secretary picked up and patched him through.

"Frank Otter here," he said over the line.

"Frank, it's Chris Gabriel," Chris told him, "You're not going to believe this one..."

## Chapter 15: South Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian increased the dosage of the experimental compound in Karen Dean. The progress in just the twelve hours she had been on it was phenomenal. He finished taking the woman's pulse and dropped down into a chair, again removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"You need to sleep once in a while," Nathan Blake observed as he walked into the room, "have you slept today, James?"

"Caught a few hours this morning," Entragian said, "couldn't manage anymore than that."

"Sounds like fun," Blake chuckled, "well, you're going to have another problem. Brian will be here in a few minutes. He's going to go ape shit when he sees the new subject."

"How's Robinson taking it?" Entragian asked him.

"About as well as expected," Blake said, "he's too young to realize just how much hot water we could be in if this goes bad."

"As long as the pentagon doesn't get wind of it we're fine," Entragian shrugged, "I'll deal with Brian when he gets here."

The hours brought more conscious control back to Tripton Mason's mind. He still could not move, but he could hear what was going on. He wondered who these people were and what they were talking about. He was wondering what the hell the pentagon had to do with anything and why his body couldn't move.

"I'm sure you'll see him when he does," Blake said, "I'm going to go join Elliot and Mike in the lab."

"Sure," Entragian said, "send Brian in when he comes in."

"Like I could stop him," Blake grunted, "I don't want to be here for that one."

James Entragian smiled as he looked at the instruments. Everything was working in ways that even he could not have hoped for. He and Elliot had designed the serum to be amazing, but this was surpassing even the mildest hopes he had had for the formula. He pulled out a scalpel and decided to run a couple of abrasion tests.

"Sorry old man," Entragian said as he moved the sheet off Mason's chest, "this is going to hurt you more than it does me."

"Now what does he mean by that?" Mason thought as he listened idly to the strange voice, "What is going to hurt me?"

The pain flushed through Mason's body as the scalpel cut his flesh. The one thing that the formula had not done to his body was kill his pain nerves. The pain nerves were about the only ones that had started working properly.

"What kind of monster are you?" Mason raged internally, "Why are you doing this to me? Don't you know that I'm awake damn you?"

James Entragian marveled at what was happening when he cut Mason's flesh. The flesh was healing almost as fast as he could cut it. He made the cuts nearly a dozen times, almost in awe of what FTU-237 had done to this body. He looked at Karen Dean's body as well, wondering how long it would take to work similar wonders on her.

Entragian was pondering performing the same test on Karen Dean when Brian Gordon came raging into the room. Brian was livid and he did not mind showing it. The first thing he'd done when he walked in the door was look at the blood samples and find ones labeled subject two. Robinson had not been told to withhold the information from Gordon, so he told Brian everything.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Brian asked him, "Where the hell did you get her from?"

"None of your concern," Entragian said flatly, "we needed another subject and we found one."

"You're insane!" Brian Gordon shouted, "Are you trying to make sure we get caught?"

"We won't get caught," Entragian said, "there's nobody who has any reason to suspect us."

"You arrogant bastard!" Gordon yelled, "You're playing god and you like it! This bears no resemblance to a scientific experiment anymore. It's just you playing with lives as if they meant nothing at all. You're no better than Mengele and his Nazi motherfuckers back in the Second World War!"

Mason listened intently as the argument raged. He did not understand all of it yet, but he caught bits and pieces. More important to him at the time was that he started to feel his limbs again. He moved his fingers just a little, something that the doctors did not notice while they were arguing.

"Can I move?" Mason thought to himself, "Can I open my eyes?"

Mason managed to open his eyes, though the effort felt like it took a gargantuan amount of strength to do. Once he regained his vision he was able to use the peripheral vision to see both Gordon and Entragian fighting.

"I'm going to go to the pentagon with this!" Brian said, "They're sending out investigators and I plan on telling them everything!"

"You don't want to do that," Entragian warned him, "you really don't want to do that."

"Fuck you, James!" Brian Gordon said, "You can't stop me."

"That's where you're wrong," Entragian said coldly and pulled the pistol out of his case, "dead wrong."

Trip Mason managed to get control of his body again quickly when he saw the gun. He was slow as he stood up, but he did a respectable job of trying to go over towards Entragian before he could pull the trigger. Unfortunately for Brian Gordon, Mason was too late. James Entragian pulled the trigger, his first shot hitting the younger doctor in the eye and sending a large portion of his brain splattering against the wall.

"Nooo..." Mason tried to yell, but his voice was scratchy from disuse, "Stop..."

James Entragian was shocked to see his patient moving. The EEG still had not even given so much as a hint that Mason was capable of waking up, let alone moving and trying to stop him. He managed to keep himself from screaming as Mason stumbled for the gun.

"Get back!" Entragian yelled and kicked Mason backwards, "Get away from me!"

Mason still did not have his reflexes back, which was not surprising considering how long he had been unconscious. He tried to right his footing, but could not manage to do it. Entragian looked at him and started firing blindly at Mason, losing all semblance of cool.

"Not again!" Mason's mind screamed as the bullets hit him, sending his body falling lifeless against the wall.

James Entragian dropped the smoking weapon and looked at the carnage. He'd meant to kill Brian Gordon and didn't feel any remorse over it. The fact that Mason had woken up was surprising as hell to him. It didn't take very long for the others to come running into the room.

"What the fuck?" Robinson said and then saw the bodies, "What did you do, James?"

"Jesus," Blake said as he looked at Entragian, "you shot them!"

"Not me," James said, barely breathing, "Brian tried to shoot the subject. He woke up."

"What?" Sumner said, the color draining out of his face, "Say that again?"

"He woke up," Entragian said, bending the truth only a little, "Tried to take the gun from Brian. It went off..."

James Entragian was putting on a worthy act. He was shocked, but he did not really have it in him to care one way or another. Lives meant very little to him as long as he got what he wanted.

"I see you took the gun back," Blake said, looking over the damage, "He couldn't have been very coherent."

"Looked to be mostly reflex," Entragian said as he calmed down, "I don't think it was anything intentional. I probably overreacted a bit. Didn't know what to do."

"What do we do?" Robinson said, "How the hell can we hide this?"

"Maybe we should use FTU on him?" Blake said.

"I don't think so," Elliot said as he looked at the wall, "I think that's Brian's brain on the wall. It isn't going to bring that back."

"We have to hide it," Blake said, "somehow."

"We need to do something," Robinson said then looked down at Mason, "he's still breathing!"

"He should be dead," Blake said, "how many times did you shoot him?"

"I emptied the pistol into him," Entragian said honestly, "into his chest even. He's healing, isn't he?"

"Good lord," Sumner said, "it's working better than we expected!"

"Too good," Robinson said, "if he's truly waking up, we're all fucked."

"We've still got the animal cells," Sumner suggested, "might not be a bad idea to lock them up."

"That's barbaric," Blake said, "they're human."

"Not anymore," Entragian said, "if we let them wander off, we're fucked. We can't afford to do that."

"I don't like it," Robinson said, his voice quivering, "But what can we do?"

While they were looking at the situation the buzzer for the front started going off. The four of them looked at each other and their eyes showed sheer panic. Nobody ever came to the door of this place, it was outside the city limits.

"Could someone have heard the shots?" Mike Robinson asked, "Come to investigate?"

"Not likely," Entragian said, "I run ballistics tests here all the time."

"We need to answer it," Blake said, "I guess I'm elected."

"I'll go with you," Elliot told him, "I don't think Mike is up to it."

"We'll clean up the mess," Entragian said, "just get rid of whoever it is."

"Hurry up in case I can't ditch them," Blake said, "clean up the mess and get them hidden."

"Right," Entragian nodded, "let's go, Mike."

All Robinson could do was look at him and wonder just what else could go wrong. It turned out that he really did not want to know.

## Chapter 16: Lobby, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Colonel Strader rang the bell again idly, looking for any signs of life. He'd driven most of the day, since it was almost as fast to drive to Boland Creek as it was to take a puddle jumper.

He was expecting something to be strange at this one, but it was almost as if there was no life in the place. He was debating between lighting up a cigarette and seeing if he could get further into the building when he finally heard someone coming up. He lit the cigarette anyway and determined immediately that he did not like the place.

"Can I help you?" Nathan Blake asked as he walked out the door.

"You can if you're James Entragian," Colonel Strader said, "my name is Colonel Richard Strader. The Pentagon sent me out to inspect your operation."

"Really," Blake said, managing to keep most of the color in his face, "My name is Nathan Blake. I'm one of the project leaders. What do they have you inspecting today, Colonel?"

"Pentagon wants a full facilities report," Strader told them, "here are the orders."

"Let me get James," Blake said, "I don't know one order from another anymore. He's the one you want to show those to."

"Certainly," Strader said, "can I get one of you to take me on a tour while I wait?"

"Umm..." Blake said and then thought about it, "Elliot... can you show him the North lab while I go find James?"

"Sure," Elliot said, his face completely even, "Come with me, Colonel."

While Elliot Sumner and Richard Strader went off to the North lab Nathan Blake fought hard to keep his composure until they were out of site. He then made tracks back to the South lab, which was where they were performing the FTU-237 experiments. Entragian was moving the body of Brian Gordon while Mike Robinson was trying to wash down the wall where the brain matter settled.

"Bad news," Blake told them, "the guy at the door is a Colonel from the Pentagon."

"Shit," Entragian said, "they're supposed to tell us about this shit."

"Too late to worry about it now," Blake said as he shrugged his shoulders, "I've got Elliot showing him the North lab right now. You'd better go get cleaned up, James. I'll move the subject into the animal isolation cells."

"Put her in one as well," Entragian said, placated by that, "I'm going to strip Brian's body and put it in the cooler. Unless someone knows him they'll think he's one of the cadavers."

"Just like we did with the girl," Blake said, "better make it fast. You need to get cleaned up before you go talk to Colonel Strader."

Robinson said nothing as he continued to clean up the gore off the wall. He was still in shock from all that had happened. The room went quiet as the three men worked to get the evidence of what happened off the walls.

## Chapter 17: North Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Colonel Strader was more interested in the little man who was giving the tour than he was in the tour itself. The tour reeked of bullshit, as most of the labs in this north wing were barely being used. He also noticed that nobody had really asked for his credentials, something that every other place had gone over thoroughly.

"So what do you do here mostly?" Strader asked Elliot.

"I mainly do lab work," Sumner said, missing the obvious point, "I test blood and other substances trying to figure out ways to keep the body healthy."

"I mean the facility," Strader said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "What type of work do you do?"

"We dabble in quite a few lines of experimentation," Sumner said, "a lot of ballistics and some medical research as well."

"Ballistics?" Strader asked, "I thought you were a bunch of medical people."

"We are," Sumner said, "we do tests on what various types of ammunition do to the body."

"How do you do that?" Strader wondered, "You shoot people?"

"Cadavers," Sumner informed him, "we don't do that sort of test on a living person. It would be barbaric."

Something about the way Sumner said those words made Colonel Strader shiver. Something was not altogether right about this man and Strader could not figure out what it was. This was not the first facility that he had investigated as part of this project, but it was by far the weirdest.

The unused state of the North lab was apparent, even to a novice like Strader. The building that housed Entragian's research center was once a remote research center for one of the many companies that had been eaten up by the conglomerate Glaxo Wellcome in the preceding years. It had been closed and abandoned until the corporation had sold it to James Entragian as a place for his experimentation.

"How long has this part been shut off?" Strader asked Elliot.

"We use it occasionally," Sumner admitted, "mostly for messier and noisier experiments. There are not very many of us. We got the facility at a cut rate, fully furnished. I forget who owned it before, but James has had it for a few years now."

"Right," Strader said, "this is interesting and all, but I'd really like to see the section of the lab that's in use."

"Right," Sumner nodded, trying to think of a way to stall, "Let's go see them."

They started walking towards the front of the building again and Elliot hit the buzzer on the way through to warn the others. Mike and Nathan looked at each other and then at Mason's body on the floor. Entragian walked in, freshly cleaned up after moving Brian Gordon's body to the freezer.

"Buzzer just went off," Nathan said, "the Colonel probably is getting restless."

"I'll go deal with him," James said calmly, "you finish up in here and get those two in the tank. Once you get them in the animal room pile a few boxes up so it looks like the room is out of use."

"Right," Nathan said, "get moving, Mike. We're running out of time."

Entragian watched as Nathan Blake dragged Mason's inert form into the other room. It was obvious that most of his wounds had already had healed and he was still breathing. Entragian was encouraged by that fact as well and he had a spring in his step when he left the room.

## Chapter 18: Lobby, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian met Elliot and Richard Strader in the front lobby with a large smile on his face. He was in a decent mood, though he was disconcerted by the appearance of the unannounced visitor. Strader looked at the leader of this group and took an immediate dislike to him.

"Welcome to my facility, Colonel," Entragian said as he extended a hand, "I'm James Entragian."

"Colonel Richard Strader," he said and took the hand, though he felt uneasy, "Army Special Investigative Group."

"Surprise inspection?" Entragian said aloud, "They usually don't do this to us without a warning."

"If we warned you it wouldn't be a surprise," Strader informed him, "we're checking all the shops like you over the next two months. I've got the orders here if you would like to see them."

"Please," Entragian said, "I need to see what I'm required to provide."

The phrasing did not escape Strader. Entragian intended to give as little cooperation as he could manage and was not particularly hiding the fact. This facility reeked to Strader, but he knew he would need to get more than just his instincts to go deeper.

"Here you go," Strader said, "orders directly from General Collard authorizing me to look over your records and facilities. They particularly want me to check any living subjects you use."

Entragian spent nearly five minutes reading over the orders. He had never been very good with military protocol, but the orders were genuine. It did not surprise him that they had been issued, but they certainly were an inconvenience. Colonel Strader had exceedingly bad timing as well. He wondered if Brian Gordon had anything to do with this.

"Very well," Entragian said finally, "you've seen the North lab, what else would you like to see?"

"Let's go with the South lab," Strader said, "I'll look at your records after I see the facilities they relate to."

"Fine," Entragian nodded with a forced smile, "follow me, please."

Entragian prayed that the others had finished the cleanup and gotten the subjects into the hidden animal cages. The three of them walked towards the South labs and come in upon Mike and Nathan, still cleaning up the last of the blood from the floor. Entragian tensed up for a moment until Nathan looked up.

"Sorry guys," Nathan said, "Butterfingers here dropped a blood sample bag. Damn thing went everywhere."

"Sorry," Mike mumbled, "didn't mean to make a mess."

"It's all right," Entragian said, smiling at Blake's ingenuity, "We'll continue on with the tour. This way, Colonel..."

Strader followed Entragian, still not sure what was going on. The rest of the tour went off without a hitch, though nothing Entragian did managed to mollify Strader's deep seated suspicion that he was being had. At the end of the tour he looked at Entragian and tried to figure out what was bugging him.

"Anything else I can help you with, Colonel Strader?" Entragian asked, hoping that was it.

"Nothing today," Strader said, "I'll be back in tomorrow to start looking over your ledgers."

"I'll have an office open for you to use," Entragian promised.

"Thank you," Strader nodded and walked out the door.

Entragian watched the Colonel walk away and then turned around to go inside to tend to his illegal project. For someone who had just committed murder he definitely felt good about himself. There is something about getting away with murder that does that to a person.

## Chapter 19: Isolation Cell, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Mason groaned as he woke up in the dark isolation cell. He wondered if what he remembered happening before was a bad dream, but the bent position he was in and the blood under him told a different story. He sat up slowly and looked around to see if he could make out anything in the darkness.

He was surprised to find that his vision was working properly. He'd needed glasses for reading for years and his night vision hadn't been good since he was in his early thirties, over twenty-five years prior. He looked around and was amazed at the clarity of his vision.

"Great," Mason said to himself, "where the hell am I?"

Like a good police officer, he checked himself for injuries. Overall, he was surprised to feel like he was in perfect health. He knew he had been shot several times and did not feel any the worse for wear. Even the spare tire he had been used to carrying for a stomach was gone.

He was a bit annoyed to be left on the floor naked, but he put that aside for the moment. He stood up and stretched to his full height, getting a good knock on the noggin from the bars on the top of the cell. He growled and grabbed the bars, doing a quick pull-up, again surprised with how easy it was. Pull-ups were something that he had not been able to do well even as a kid. Why was he able to do it here and in the dark?

Mason looked out and tried to see any lights. There were some mirrors across the way, but they did not betray any light. He considered shouting, but a hunch told him it would not do anything but bring his captors out. He was not ready to deal with them yet. He wanted his head together before he faced anyone.

Mason squinted into the next cell and saw the gurney as well as a small glint of metal from the IV stand. He could tell that there was another person on the gurney, but he could not tell from the angle he had whether it was anyone he knew. The gray hair pretty well let out the possibility that it was Alecia Tracer, however.

"Great," Mason said to himself as he paced a little, "caught like a rat in a fucking trap. Doing well, Mason. Just great."

He finally sat down and curled up in a ball, the only way he had to keep any of the warmth in his body. The cold in the cell was getting worse and they did not leave him any sort of blanket to cover up with. He grumbled for a bit and then let himself rest. He knew that someone would be back eventually, and he wanted to be well rested when that time came.

## Chapter 20: Boland Creek Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

"Thanks for coming in, Doc," Chris Gabriel said to the man sitting in the chair, "I realize you're a busy man."

Dr. Travis Cole had come down as soon as he found out about the kidnapping. He was a rather small man, his feet barely touching the floor in the chair. He looked at Chris Gabriel and Declan Collins, who were looking at him and both at least six inches taller than him.

"Not a problem," Dr. Cole shrugged, "I'm just baffled as to why anyone would take a cancer patient out of a small town hospital."

"It's insane," Chris agreed, "I was hoping you might have some guesses. You've been working on her case for a while."

"Karen Dean is a remarkable woman," Dr. Cole said, "she's lived for nearly ten years with a disease that usually kills within three."

"When did she go into her current state?" Chris asked him, "Was there any chance of her getting out?"

"She's been on the edge of lucidity for over two years," Cole said, "if she had woken up she would have been a crippled vegetable. She should have been taken off life support years ago, but her family would not be bothered to sign anything more than a DNR. Her insurance is still paying for her stay, probably praying that she isn't found alive so they can stop paying her bill."

"Great," Chris sighed, "so the only entity we know of with a motive is a blasted HMO."

"Much as I'd love to convict them," Cole chuckled, "I think they would more likely have just pulled the plug on her life support and left the body."

"How much know how would it take to pull off what the kidnappers did?" Chris asked him, "I'll be the first to admit to being rather ignorant in the medical field."

"Whoever did it knows their way around a hospital," Cole said, "they knew how to hot-wire those machines so nobody would know she was gone until morning. That's not something any Tom, Dick or Harry would be able to accomplish."

"You think a doctor did this?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Doctor, nurse or maybe a repair technician," Dr. Cole said, "someone who knew how the equipment worked. The bigger question is why. What use could anyone have for a woman who was just too stubborn to die?"

"Lab rat?" Declan Collins wondered.

"You can't be serious," Dr. Cole said, aghast at the idea, "No researcher would ever experiment on a living woman like that!"

"Correction," Chris said, as he thought about it, "No legitimate one would. What if it's illegal research?"

"Would explain the doctor part," Declan said, "what else would a doctor want to kidnap someone for?"

"But here?" Dr. Cole wondered, "What good would it do? Without the life support system she'd be dead in a few days."

"They couldn't have brought her too far," Collins said, "maybe she's still in our jurisdiction?"

"Do you know of any less than reputable researchers in the area?" Chris asked the good doctor.

"Can't think of any off the top of my head," Cole shrugged, "but they'd probably take care to avoid legitimate doctors to avoid tipping us off. I'd report them to the AMA in a heartbeat."

"Do we have anything better to check?" Declan asked them.

"I can call the AMA for anyone with a Boland Creek address," Dr. Cole offered, "they'd probably tell you to get screwed, but I might be able to wrangle the information out of them."

"I'll check the town directory," Declan said, "if there's a business, Jean over at the county office will have the record of it."

"Let me know if you find anything," Chris said, "I'm due to meet Benny Roeder on that other case in an hour."

"You got it," Collins said and left the room.

"Can I use your phone?" Dr. Cole asked Chris.

"Go ahead," Chris nodded, "I'll be in my office."

Chris Gabriel retreated into his office and wondered if this job was going to get worse. He then put the thought out of his head. He really did not want to know how much worse it could get.

## Chapter 21: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

The old man paced around the room, his sleep interrupted again. For his advanced age he looked pretty good, though he knew he didn't have much time left to him. He tended to sleep less as time went on, mainly because he knew how little was left and did not feel like wasting any of it sleeping.

"Why haven't we heard anything out of those idiots yet?" the old man snapped to his young subordinates, "Entragian is supposed to report to us daily!"

"He's probably busy, Mr. Bolantine," the young man said, "he has his hands full keeping his people going on this project."

"I must be getting senile, Alvin," Bolantine growled, "why on earth did I put this much money into that project?"

"James Entragian is probably the only one amoral enough to get this to work," Alvin Christie said honestly, "if anyone can do it, it's his team. The fact that the army wants it too means he's got as good a shot as anyone."

Bolantine grunted and walked through the door to the edge of the bedroom. This was a room he found himself spending more and more time in as the years passed. It was a sad place, really, more of a tomb than a place where life went on. He went over to the bed in the middle of the room.

"Any changes today?" Bolantine asked the doctor on duty.

"Blood pressure is good," the doctor told him, "no new brain activity."

The girl on the bed was immobile, not having moved an inch on her own in nearly thirty years. Time had actually been rather kind to her looks, and her hair had never grayed, staying the same dark it had been all her life. Bolantine had been paying the doctors to keep her alive ever since she had been injured and fallen into a coma. When Bolantine had this place built he had this chamber created simply to keep this girl alive.

"Nikki," Bolantine said as he took her limp hand, "I swear to you, I will find a way to bring you back."

The girl's face was impassive and gave no indication that she was able to hear him. That did not faze Bolantine. He had plenty of practice and did not particularly expect her to respond. If she ever did respond he figured he would probably have a heart attack on the spot.

"The stylist needs to do a better job on your hair," Bolantine said as he ran his fingers through her hair, "I'm paying them to keep you looking decent."

Alvin simply watched the old man with the girl. It's something he'd seen every day since he began working for the aging crime boss, but it still looked very sick to him. This girl was everything to Bolantine, but she had not moved an inch since before Alvin Christie had been born.

"Is there anything I can do for you, boss?" Alvin asked him.

"No," Bolantine said, "just see that I'm not disturbed unless Entragian calls."

"Right," Alvin said, shaking his head as he walked out of the room.

Bolantine himself sat down in his chair next to the bed and held her hand until he felt too tired to stay any longer. He just hoped that he would live long enough to see his girl live again.

## Chapter 22: South Lab, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Nathan Blake looked like death warmed over. He had not slept since the death of Brian Gordon and he was not sure when he'd get a chance to do so. He was going over the charts of the changes that had happened to subject one since the beginning of the illicit FTU trials. He could not believe some of the stuff he was seeing.

"What are you looking at, Nate?" Michael Robinson asked him, "Have you even slept?"

"Have you?" Blake asked him.

"Good point," Robinson said glumly, "what have you got?"

"You checked the EEG's," Blake said, "Did you ever see a damned thing on them?"

"Nothing," Robinson sighed, "why?"

"Have you checked on the subjects yet?" Blake asked him.

"Will you kindly stop answering a question with a question," Robinson growled, "what are you alluding to?"

"This stuff is going a hell of a lot farther than anything I designed," Blake said, "I've just gone over the data for about the fifth time. Someone changed the design."

"You're kidding," Robinson said, "what did they do to it?"

"The concentrations," Blake said, "I was designing it for slow repair. A reverse workup from the destructive properties of a compound I perfected when I was working for the army's chemical labs a few years back. It shouldn't have done anything close to the level it did."

"What difference does the concentration make?" Robinson asked, "I'm a doctor, not a chemist. I don't know one end of a test tube from another."

"It's like the difference between regular gasoline and rocket fuel," Blake explained, "It's a difference of power. The rocket fuel will pack a lot more of a whallop, but if put into the engine of a pinto it will do very unpredictable things."

"Yeah," Robinson chuckled, "like blow it up."

"Sometimes," Blake agreed, "other times it makes it go really fast and burns the engine out from inside."

"What part of the body does the stuff work on?" Robinson said, "I never really understood that."

"The immune system," Blake said, "it's supposed to only speed it temporarily, but something is keeping it going."

"You mean..." Robinson said, his eyes going wide.

"There may be no stopping this shit," Blake nodded, "I don't know how Elliot and Jim did it, but they changed the goddamned compound. I don't know what some of this stuff is."

"And this is what we used on both subjects?" Robinson asked him, "Would that explain what happened to the EEG?"

"I don't know," Blake sighed, "without rechecking the samples against the results Elliot gave us, I don't know what's true and what isn't anymore. I think Elliot and Jim have been playing us all along."

"How do we tell?" Robinson said.

"Let's go see if he's woken up again," Blake shrugged, "The cage is designed to house an ape. A man shouldn't be a problem. If we can get close enough, we'll get a fresh sample."

"And if we can't get close enough?" Robinson wondered, "What do we do?"

"Pray we can kill them," Blake said seriously, "because if we can't, we're dead."

"Should I bring the tranquilizer gun?" Robinson asked him, "See if we can knock him out?"

"Beats going empty handed," Blake said, "have you seen Elliot or Jim?"

"Sleeping in the North lab offices," Robinson said, "if we're going to do this, now's the time."

They went over to the boxes that blocked the animal room and moved them out of the way. Mike Robinson grabbed the tranquilizer gun and looked at Blake, who was holding a needle and tube. Blake sighed and opened the door, knowing he was not going to be ready for what he found.

Mason sat up and shaded his eyes a little as the light came into the room. He was already exceedingly pissed off from the cramped cage. The fact that he was naked and cold did not help matters either. His dark eyes burned with fury as he looked at them. He looked quite like a feral animal, his gray hair speckled with black and his beard grown out long.

"Get me out of here," Mason told them, growling a little, "Why have you got me caged like an animal?"

The two researchers were almost in shock when they looked at him. They were expecting to see someone that was half alive, not a man who was sitting up and talking coherently. He looked feral, but his voice was calm and even. His eyes, however, were an entirely different story.

"Do you remember who you are?" Blake asked finally.

"My name is Tripton Mason," he said immediately, "I'm a Federal Agent and I want to know why I am being held here against my will."

"A fed..." Robinson said, his eyes wide, "Jesus."

Mason gripped on to the bars and looked at the two men, both of whom looked like a deer in headlights. He was not quite sure of the dynamic of the place that he was being held, but he knew he had their attention.

"Get me out of here and we'll discuss what happened," Mason said, "I don't know what you did to me, but the fact that I'm alive when I really shouldn't be makes a difference."

"What do we do, Nathan?" Robinson asked him.

"Nothing," Blake said, still looking at Mason, "Go take some samples from the girl. Keep clear of the cage."

"But..." Robinson said.

"But nothing," Blake told him, his eyes hardening, "We don't know all of what has been done to you, Mason. You're staying locked up for now, for your safety as much as ours."

"Keeping me in here is not going to keep me safe," Mason told him as he tried to keep the anger down, "and it won't keep you safe forever."

"Safety is an illusion," Blake said idly, "get the samples, Mike."

Mike Robinson looked unsure for a minute and then went over to the cage, keeping himself well out of arm's reach of Mason. Mason brushed back his gray hair and kept an eye on the young doctor. Robinson quickly drew two vials of blood and removed the oxygen mask from Karen's face.

"She's breathing on her own," Robinson told them, "it's taking hold even quicker than it did on him."

"What is this stuff?" Mason asked them, "What did you do to us?"

"Later," Blake said to Mason and then turned to Robinson, "let's get out of here."

Robinson finished drawing the blood sample and quickly skirted out of the cell, leaving Mason standing there shouting at them. Blake quickly closed the door and took relief in the silence that followed as the soundproofing silenced Mason's shouts.

"Nobody said anything about him being a fucking fed," Mike hissed, "where the hell did Elliot find this guy?"

"Supposedly Elliot and James found the murder site," Blake said, "I doubt they knew he was a fed. Of course, they probably didn't expect him to be talking again."

"How is he walking around?" Robinson asked, "How the fuck is any of this possible?"

"Let's go find out, shall we?" Blake said as he took the tube from Robinson, "We can use the testing equipment in the North Lab. Let's just hope we don't find what I think we will."

## Chapter 23: Front Lobby, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Richard Strader grumbled as he waited in the lobby. He distinctly remembered telling Entragian that he would be in at 8am to begin examining the books. He was already annoyed at this place and had determined that he was going to go through with a fine-tooth comb and burn them if they had so much as a dollar allocated incorrectly.

Not caring a whit about Entragian's rules, Strader pulled out a cigarette and lit up, reclining back into the chair as he waited. A few seconds after he lit up the cigarette he heard a vehicle pull into the parking lot. He figured that it was one of Entragian's people coming in to work. He was about to stand up and get ready to chew out whoever it was until he saw Chris Gabriel come in.

"Excuse me," Chris said to Strader, "I'm looking for James Entragian. Would you happen to be him?"

"No," Col. Strader chuckled, "I'm waiting for him as well. I'm Colonel Richard Strader."

"Sheriff Chris Gabriel," Gabriel told him and held out a hand, which Strader shook, "I wasn't aware that this was a military installation."

"Not exactly," Strader told him, "they do some medical research for us. I'm on a simple audit investigation. Evidently congress is blowing some hot air about the research projects and I'm here to reassure them that there's nothing to worry about."

"Sounds like a lot of fun," Gabriel said, "what do they actually research here?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Strader said, "And Entragian is late again."

"Great," Gabriel said and rubbed his eyes, "I guess I'll wait a few minutes and try again later."

"Does he do some work for you too?" Strader wondered, "Some lab work or something?"

"No," Gabriel said, "never met the man before. We're checking out every medical place within the county."

"What for?" Strader wondered.

"A woman was kidnapped from the hospital the other night," Chris explained, "she was dying of cancer, hadn't moved in two years. One of the few explanations anyone could come up with was that they wanted to use her as a lab rat."

"Possible," Strader admitted, "disgusting, but possible."

"So we're just running checks on these places to see if any of them had either been offered a body or if they had anything to do with it," Gabriel explained.

"If it helps I didn't see any living patients yesterday," Strader said, "though I encourage you to ask Entragian himself."

"Yeah," Gabriel nodded, "got another cigarette?"

"Sure," Strader chuckled and offered the pack to the Sheriff, "here you go."

"Thanks," Gabriel said and took one, using the lighter in the pack to light it, "So have you found anything here yet?"

"Nothing I can put my finger on," Strader shrugged, "something is weird here. I'm hoping I'll find it if I keep pushing in here."

"Good luck," Gabriel said, "I didn't even know this place was out here until one of the local doctors did an AMA address search for me."

"It is a bit out of the way," Strader admitted, "of course, I'd never heard of your town until I got assigned to check this place out."

"Most people haven't," Gabriel agreed, "that's why I ended up here. Didn't want to be anywhere large. Had enough of that type of crap when I was in the FBI. Thought my law enforcement career was over until I was pulled into doing this crap."

"The perils of capability," Strader chuckled, "well, hopefully he'll be here soon."

"Right," Gabriel nodded.

The two men sat there in the chairs and smoked their cigarettes. Strader's was nearly finished when James Entragian and Elliot Sumner walked in the door. Strader glared at the two men who had been keeping him waiting. Gabriel took a drag on the cigarette and looked at the two men.

Neither one looked like they had been sleeping much, though Sumner looked marginally better than Entragian did. Entragian's glasses hid some of the dark circles, but he still looked like death warmed over.

"Good morning Colonel," Entragian said, smiling only a little, "Did you bring along some help today?"

"I'm Sheriff Gabriel," Chris told them, "just stopped by to ask you a few questions."

"What about, Sheriff?" Entragian asked him. Elliot Sumner looked surprised as he watched.

"A woman was kidnapped from the hospital," The sheriff explained, "she's in bad enough condition that it was suggested that she might be used as a lab rat."

"Not by any reputable physician," Entragian assured him, though his color drained a little, "Who would do such a thing?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Sheriff Gabriel said, "do you have any living patients at this time?"

"No," Sumner said, "we don't deal with the living."

"He's right," Entragian nodded, "we only deal with corpses."

"Corpses?" Gabriel said, "What do you do with corpses?"

"Ballistics tests mostly," Entragian explained, "tests to see what a particular type of round will do to a body. Helps them to know how to repair the damage."

"I see," Sheriff Gabriel nodded, cringing a little like Strader had done the day before, "Doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun."

"Only a small part of what we do," Entragian smiled, "most of our research is on ways to help the body heal itself faster."

"How many bodies do you have in the morgue right now?" Col. Strader asked him.

"Elliot?" Entragian asked, "Do you know how many you have off the top of your head?"

"Probably a dozen or so," Sumner shrugged, "It varies. I don't know who has run tests this week."

"Can we take a look at the corpses?" Gabriel asked them, "Let me confirm my girl isn't among them and I'll be out of your hair."

"Do you have a warrant, Sheriff?" Entragian asked him, "Our research is classified."

"Your corpses aren't," Strader said, asserting some authority and deciding to tweak Entragian a little, "I want to see them too, so there's no reason not to show the Sheriff what he wants to see while I satisfy my curiosity as well."

Entragian stared at Strader with hate in his eyes. He was trying to decide if it would be worth antagonizing the Colonel anymore than he already was. Strader was enjoying the look of discomfort on the scientists' faces. Sumner finally shrugged and Entragian decided to relent.

"All right," Entragian sighed, "let's go on down to the Morgue."

They walked over to the cold room, which was adjacent to the hallway going to the North laboratory. Entragian opened the door and revealed a rather shabby little morgue, similar in style to the many other morgues Chris Gabriel had been in over the years, notable for little other than its small size compared to most of the city morgues he was used to.

"Very nice," Strader said dryly, "are all the drawers full?"

"I don't know off the top of my head," Entragian shrugged, "feel free to look around."

Gabriel really did not like this part of the job, as he had seen more corpses in his life than he cared to remember. He did know, however, that it was something he had to do. He opened the first drawer and looked at the body. It was the body of an older white man, one that had been shot a few times.

"Do I want to know?" Strader asked.

"Ballistics tests, as I said," Entragian shrugged.

The next three bodies were of similar shapes and constitutions. Neither Gabriel nor Strader saw the point of the type of tests that had been performed on the bodies, but none of them could have been his missing woman either. The next four were women, but of different age groups and races than his missing cancer patient.

"I told you it was nothing," Entragian said, hoping he could get out of showing them the last bodies, "Want to see the last bodies?"

"Might as well," Strader shrugged.

"Open them," Gabriel told them, "I'll look at them and then I'll get out of your hair."

"All right," Entragian said and opened the next one.

Both Strader and Gabriel were surprised by this one. This was a very shapely young woman. She had obviously been shot a few times, and Gabriel could tell that at least two of the wounds had not been post mortem. Unfortunately, neither Gabriel nor Strader had ever seen Alecia Tracer before, so they could not identify her.

"I didn't know someone so young could be sold like this," Gabriel said.

"Probably an unclaimed body," Entragian said nervously, "right Elliot?"

Elliot Sumner merely nodded. Strader and Gabriel looked at each other and both sighed. Neither one thought to question the young woman's body, mainly because they had no reason to suspect that Entragian had gone that far into depravity yet. Gabriel finally closed the drawer himself and went through the last few.

"This is one that we got and found we couldn't use much," Entragian explained as he opened the drawer, "evidently this young man was a murder victim."

"Drug deal gone bad is my guess," Sumner lied, though he was nervous, "Not sure what else it could be."

"Are there any more?" Gabriel asked, hoping there were not.

"Nope," Entragian shrugged, "that's the lot."

"Thanks for your cooperation," Sheriff Gabriel told him, "I think I've seen more than I wanted to."

"Good luck," Strader said, offering a hand, "I hope you nail the bastards."

"So do we," Gabriel nodded, "thanks again for letting me look around."

"No problem," Entragian lied.

The four of them walked out and Gabriel departed quickly. Strader looked at them and wondered what to do next. He still felt that these two were hiding something, but he had been unable to find anything concrete yet. He figured that it was time to go over the books.

"Ok," Strader said, "time for the hard part. I need to look at your books."

"Really," Entragian said, "When?"

"Now," Strader smiled, "no time like the present to get started."

"Very well," Entragian grumbled, "this way."

Colonel Strader could not help but smile as Entragian led him to a little office. It felt good for him to make life as difficult as possible for that smug son of a bitch. Entragian merely scowled and led the way, while Elliot scurried off to his lab looking as much like a weasel as any one man could.

## Chapter 24: Isolation Cell, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

"Well," Mason said as he paced around his cell for the hundredth time, "this is another fine mess I've gotten myself into."

Of course, he knew he had not done anything particularly wrong. He knew that in his mind. He did not know how the killers had found him and Alecia, but he was certain it was not due to anything he had done. That fact was a small comfort to him while he was still naked and freezing in the cell.

"Hello there," Mason said to Karen as he took a good look at her, "I don't know who you are, or if you can even hear me, but if I don't talk to someone I'm going to go nuts."

Karen, of course, didn't move a muscle. Mason sighed as he looked at the silent woman. He shook the bars a little bit, testing their strength and his own. He knew he was stronger, as he did not remember ever being in as good a shape as he felt. He did a few more circuits and a few pull-ups before talking to Karen again.

"Well, honey," Mason said, "I don't know how long we'll be together here, but if they did the same thing to you as they did to me you're probably beginning to wake up a little."

Mason spent a few minutes going on about what he had heard and what had happened with Entragian and Brian Gordon. He also made a few speculations about what had been done to them. Despite the fact that there was no response at all from her, he felt much better for having said it to someone.

"I hope that was as good for you as it was for me," Mason said sarcastically, "now if only I could get out of here."

He looked around again and shivered. The temperature in the cell was cold and if anything getting colder. He did a few more pull-ups to try to get himself warm again, growling as he realized that it was ceasing to help. He looked over at Karen again and continued to wonder about her.

"I don't know who you are," Mason said, "but I do know a little about how you came to be here."

Mason smiled and felt like an idiot for talking to her, but continued anyway because it was a way to keep his mind off the cold that was permeating his body. He watched her chest move up and down rhythmically. He took a deep breath and jogged in place as he continued.

"Anyway," Mason said, "they yanked you out of the hospital you were in to try this glop on you. Not sure what the hell the glop is, but it's powerful shit. I feel better than I have in my life. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for me to drop dead."

Mason frowned and thought about it for a second, then shrugged. Nothing he could do about it now. It had not been his choice, but he did not exactly have a multitude of choices. He grumbled silently and then decided to continue.

"Anyway," Mason said to her, "they decided I wasn't responding well enough to their stuff, so they decided to bring you in. Welcome to hell. I hope for your sake you don't wake up and can't hear me."

Mason sighed and sat down on the floor again, ignoring the new burst of cold he got from lying down on the concrete. He thought about talking to Karen some more, but decided that he wanted to save his energy for staying warm. He curled up in a little ball before looking at her one more time.

"We'll talk later," he promised, "I just hope you don't start answering me."

Mason went into a sort of half sleep, hoping that he himself would not wake up from it either. It was something calculated to be a forlorn hope. Mason was not going anywhere. This was knowledge he had only just begun to see, however.

## Chapter 25: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

Bolantine looked at the young doctor that was sitting in front of him, a look of contempt forming on his old, withered face. He was a man who, despite wielding immense personal power, was facing the one enemy that no man had ever won against before. Bolantine grumbled as the needle went under his flesh and yet more of his blood was taken away.

"How much time do I have?" Bolantine asked the doctor.

"A year," the doctor said, "maybe less. The cancer is starting to take hold."

"And Nikki?" Bolantine asked him.

"It's a miracle that she's lived as long as she has," the doctor hedged, "we're doing the best we can to keep her alive, but we're running towards the end of the rope."

"Keep her alive," Bolantine growled, "she will not die before me!"

"She's a woman who has been in a purely vegetative state for over thirty years," The doctor explained, "her brain has been dead for years. We're keeping a shell alive."

"Then continue to do so," Bolantine told him, "that is your job."

The doctor knew enough not to fight the old man. He knew that before long Bolantine would be gone and then they would be able to let the poor girl finally rest. He just hoped that they would be able to keep her alive longer than they did him, something that he was beginning to doubt was going to happen.

"We'll do everything in our power," the doctor affirmed, "I'd better get this blood work done. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Bolantine?"

"Get out of here," Bolantine told him, "Alvin!"

"Yeah," Alvin Christie told him, "I'm here, Mr. Bolantine."

"We're running out of time," Bolantine told the younger man, "have you heard anything from Entragian?"

"Nothing," Alvin told him, getting ready for another Bolantine rant.

"That ungrateful son of a bitch!" Bolantine shouted, "I've put more money into his shop than any ten governments in the last ten years! What have I gotten to show for it? Nothing!"

"Yes, sir," Alvin said, humoring him.

"Get that ingrate on the phone!" Bolantine shouted, "It's time to light a fire up under his ass! The little punk is probably hoping that he'll outlive me. It's time to prove to him that it won't happen. I'll outlive him if it's the last thing I do!"

Alvin Christie highly doubted it, but didn't particularly want to say anything to the contrary. He was being paid really well to take Bolantine's vitriol, so he did as he was instructed and dialed the number he had written down for Entragian's research clinic. He waited for a few rings and heard a young sounding voice pick up the phone.

"Entragian Medical Research Clinic," the voice said, "Michael Robinson speaking."

"Yes," Christie said, knowing the game he had to play, "This is Alvin Christie from Mr. Bolantine's office. May I speak to Dr. Entragian please?"

"He's rather tied up right now," Robinson said, "could I take a message?"

"He'll take my call," Christie said, arrogance showing, "Just tell him I'm from Mr. Bolantine's office."

"Ok," Robinson said and then shouted, "James! A Mr. Christie from a Mr. Bolantine's office is on the phone."

Alvin Christie heard a little muttering and smiled at the curse. It took a few minutes and the sound of an extension hanging up before Entragian himself came on the line. Alvin shook his head at the disorganization, but then again Entragian hadn't been expecting this call.

"Christie?" Entragian said, "What the hell is this?"

"The boss wants to talk to you," Christie said, "I follow instructions, just like you do."

"All right," Entragian said, stifling a few choice curse words, "Put him on."

Alvin looked at his boss and handed the old man the phone. Bolantine was in no mood to be kind, especially to someone that he had paid so much money over the years. The fact that he had seen no return on his investment so far was also pissing him off.

"What have you found?" Bolantine asked him impatiently, "I'm running out of time here."

"These things take time, as I've..." Entragian started before Bolantine interrupted.

"Fuck your time," Bolantine growled, "I'm running out of it. So is Nikki. So are you!"

"What do you mean?" Entragian asked him.

"Have you even made any progress at all?" Bolantine asked him.

"We've been running some illegal experiments to speed it up," Entragian said, "you know that, you sent me to the bodies. I've gotten some good data from it, and the formula is coming along..."

"How well is it coming on?" Bolantine asked, "Did you have any success?"

"Too well," Entragian said, "the fed you sent me is awake and talking again."

"You're kidding me!" Bolantine said, "And you didn't fucking call me!"

"One success does not a formula make," Entragian said, as if lecturing a schoolboy, "We're trying it on a woman now and while she's showing progress, she hasn't woken up yet."

"I'm running out of time, asshole," Bolantine growled, "as far as Nikki goes, she can't get much worse and it won't work at all if she's dead, right?"

"Right," Entragian said, "but I don't know if it'll work at all at this point."

"Bring what you have, Entragian," Bolantine ordered, "I want it here as soon as possible."

"It's going to take time to get together," Entragian protested, "and the Army has someone here doing an audit."

"I'll send you two people," Bolantine said, "if this shit works I'll pay for both of you to retire to anyplace you want."

"I make no promises," Entragian said, "I haven't had time to test it thoroughly."

"Get it here," Bolantine said, "I don't have the time to wait. We're both dying."

"Send me those people and we'll get there," Entragian promised, "I'm going to try to eliminate our current projects before we go. This may be a messy job."

"You have one week," Bolantine informed him, "I'll have Alvin make the necessary arrangements."

"Good, I'd better get started" Entragian said and rang off the line.

"Got any ideas on who to send?" Bolantine asked Alvin Christie.

"Need someone quiet," Alvin said, "Freddie Pena's girl Elise Steele is available. She needs to keep a low profile for a bit. Freddie owes us some cooperation, so he'll probably be agreeable to loaning her out."

"She'd be good," Bolantine agreed, "send Robert Kasta along with her. Kasta still owes me for saving his brother."

"Kasta knows the area too," Christie said, "he's the one who killed that bitch Tracer."

"Good," Bolantine said, "get the ball rolling."

Alvin was convinced his boss was losing his marbles, but at this point he did not much care. While Bolantine laid down to rest, Christie sighed and started making phone calls, starting with Frederick Pena. Once he had sent Elise and Robert out to meet Entragian and Sumner, he went into the other room, where the doctor was sitting.

"Alvin," the doctor said, "can I talk to you?"

"Shoot," Christie said, "the old man is taking a nap in his office."

"That girl is basically a living shell," the doctor said, "she's been brain dead since I was in diapers, maybe longer. If Bolantine thinks that any medical miracle is going to happen, he is insane. Hell, her limbs would be completely atrophied if the physical therapist didn't do her stuff every other day. She's only technically breathing due to the machines."

"I know," Christie said, "he's getting senile and finding out about the cancer has just intensified that."

"Keeping her breathing like that is not right," the doctor said, "we should have taken her off life support 20 years ago."

"If you think the old man is unhinged now," Alvin warned, "just wait until she dies. If you value your life and the lives of a lot of people, keep that corpse breathing until after Bolantine himself dies."

"And if that shit he's talking about works?" the doctor asked.

"Then it's not our problem anymore," Christie shrugged, "listen, the old man probably only has a few months left. Can you keep that girl alive that long?"

"I don't know," the doctor said honestly, "she's come close a few times. We're trying, but damn..."

"Do the best you can," Christie said, "and if she dies, for god sakes tell me first."

"You got it," the doctor said, "I'm going to go check on her."

"Good luck," Alvin smiled, "hopefully it won't be for too much longer."

## Chapter 26: Isolation Cell, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian walked into the isolation area shortly before four thirty in the afternoon. Mason was up immediately, looking at the man and remembering him from the blurred moments he was awake before being shot the second time. The expression on Entragian's face was not one calculated to make Mason feel more at ease.

"Did you at least bring food this time?" Mason asked Entragian dryly, "You've left me here without food or clothes for hours."

"Food is the least of your problems," Entragian shrugged, "how are you feeling today?"

"Rather shitty, thanks," Mason growled, "now how about coming a little closer so I can pass on some of the fun."

"I'll pass," Entragian said just as the door opened and Nathan Blake came into the room, "good afternoon, Nathan."

"You insane bastard!" Blake exclaimed as he thrust a printout at Entragian, "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

"Checking on our test subjects," Entragian said, taking the printout, "What is this?"

"Proof that you've been fucking us over the whole time," Blake growled, "I ought to go show all of this to Strader."

"Who's Strader?" Mason asked, interested in this. Both doctors ignored his question.

"I've been working on the same formula you have," Entragian said, "FTU-237 is a joint effort."

"You've been changing the formulas and falsifying tests," Blake accused, "I ran some tests on the girl's blood this morning. This stuff is supercharging their immune systems."

"I thought that was what we were trying to do," Entragian shrugged.

"That's crazy," Blake said, "this is not only doing that, but it's changing the cellular structure. We have no idea what this is going to do in the long run."

"Great," Mason said, "you have been using me for a fucking lab rat!"

"You were dead," Entragian said, "your corpse was fair game."

"You'll burn for this," Mason said.

"What do you have to say for yourself, James?" Blake said.

"I'd say we're going far beyond our original charter," Entragian smiled, "take a look at this man. Our serum is a smashing success."

"I'd say a nightmare," Mason said, "this is a power no one should have."

"It's not like you're immortal," Entragian told him, "you can be killed just like anyone else."

"Are you sure about that?" Blake said, "You shot him four times and he's walking around like nothing happened."

"Pity you can't say the same thing about that other man you shot, Entragian," Mason shot back.

"What?" Blake asked, "I thought..."

"He's lying," Entragian said quickly, proving Mason's point better than anything Mason could have said himself, "He's also delusional."

"I may be a lot of things," Mason said, "trapped, pissed off, hungry, and craving a fucking cigarette is just a partial list. Being delusional isn't really high on that list of priorities right now."

"Shut up," Entragian said to Mason, "Blake, don't even think of going to Strader. You do that, you go down too."

"I'm not sure we're not going down anyway," Blake said, "and you fucking killed Brian!"

"I will do something," Entragian promised then looked at Mason, "I'll do something about you too."

"Try feeding me you asshole," Mason growled.

"I'm going to the police," Blake said as he turned for the door, "Fuck this..."

"I can't allow that," Entragian said as he cold cocked Blake, "I've got too much riding on this."

"You should write a book," Mason noticed, "call it 'How to Kill Friends and use Genetic Engineering to Build Enemies'."

"You won't be around long enough to become my enemy," Entragian smiled at Mason as he dragged Blake's unconscious form to Karen's cell, which he then locked, "Enjoy your last minutes on earth."

Mason looked at him quizzically, and did not believe a word the man said. Entragian said nothing else and walked out of the room, closing the soundproof door behind him.

Mason looked over into the other cell and took a good look at Blake's body. Entragian had slipped up, as the older doctor was still breathing. Mason sighed and sat down in the cell again, wondering what was going to happen next.

## Chapter 27: Chris Gabriel's Living Room, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel growled at the written pages he was working on. He did not know how to end this book and was frankly disgusted at how bad it was. He spent a few more minutes typing some insipid dialogue and killing off pretty much anyone that could walk. He knew it was bad, but he also knew that it would make a perfect popcorn flick.

"Bah," Gabriel said as he finished it off, "I'll let the editors fuck with it."

He saved the file to the disk and decided to get up and walk around. He knew he would not send the file in for a few more days until he could reread it again and fix at least some of the problems with the plot. He decided to head downstairs, when he saw his wife heading towards the bedroom.

"You finish it?" Carrie asked him.

"It's a piece of shit," Chris shrugged, "but it's finished."

"I'm tired," Carrie said, "your friend is still going through paperwork on the couch. He doesn't look particularly happy."

"He has no reason to," Chris said, "he's dealing with a case that is not going to do anything but get him demoted."

"You know," Carrie chuckled, "I'm glad you left that place before it ate you alive."

"Me too," Chris said, "I don't mind the local stuff, but I can live without the federal bullshit."

"You coming to bed?" Carrie asked him.

"Not yet," Chris told her, "I'm going to go see what Benny is up to."

"Don't stay up too late," Carrie told him and kissed him on the cheek, "see you later, hon."

Carrie headed off to bed and Chris made his way down the stairs of the family home. He found Benny Roeder going over a whole pile of paperwork that was spread out over the couch and coffee table. Chris chuckled, as he could remember those days. He sat down in his easy chair and looked over.

"Any progress?" Chris asked him.

"Nothing," Benny said, rubbing his temples, "I don't expect much. Not unless we somehow find the bodies."

"The state boys searched the woods," Chris said, "whatever happened to them they are not there."

"I know," Benny said, "I'm going through all of Mason's files, trying to find a clue. I can't believe they managed to take him like that."

"Who was Tracer?" Chris asked him.

"She worked for some goons out on the west coast," Benny explained, "not terribly bright, but a memory like a tape recorder. She probably would have shut down a good percentage of Bolantine's operations out there, though I doubt we'd have been able to touch the old man himself."

"Old man Bolantine, eh?" Chris said, "Not bad. I thought that son of a bitch was dead, though."

"Not quite," Benny said, "rumor has it that he's dying, but he's not in the ground yet. He's too tough to die quick."

"You working on his cases?" Chris wondered.

"Just the runner for Alecia Tracer," Benny sighed, "I met her when I sent her and Mason out. Pretty girl. I hope I never have to see that pretty face dead."

"She was a looker, eh?" Chris chuckled, "What did she look like?"

"Tall," Benny said, a dreamy smile forming on his face, "Blonde, legs that seemed to go on forever. The type of woman that you'd leave your wife for just to fuck once."

"Heh," Chris said, "got a picture?"

"Yeah," Benny nodded, tossing Chris the folder, "Not that it matters at this point."

Chris pulled out the picture and stared at it for a little bit. Benny had been right she had been a looker. There was something about the picture that drew him, however. He went through the folder some more and came across her mug shots. Those looked a lot more like something he had seen earlier in the day.

"Holy shit," Chris said, "how old are these mugs?"

"Two months," Benny said, looking at him, "They are the most recent pictures I have."

"Fuck me," Chris said, "I saw her today!"

"Alive?" Benny asked hopefully.

"No," Chris said, "dead as a doornail. She was in the morgue over at Entragian's place."

"Who the hell is Entragian?" Benny said, "What were you doing over there?"

"Private medical research contractor, does research for the Pentagon," Chris explained, "we were checking their morgue for the girl from the cancer ward. No fucking wonder Entragian tried to get out of showing us the corpses!"

"Shit," Benny said, "you have a judge that we can get to? It'll take days to get this before a federal judge."

"He's probably down for the night," Chris said, "probably not going to be able to get a warrant until morning."

"I want some more information on Entragian anyway," Benny said, "I'll call Rafferty in records. You call the state people?"

"You got it," Chris nodded, "let's get to work. We'll raid them in the morning."

"Jesus," Benny said, "you never know. We might break this one after all."

Chris Gabriel sighed. He just wished he could be surer about it.

## Chapter 28: Elise Steele's Car, Approaching Boland Creek, NY

Elise Steele stared forward as she drove the Mercedes sedan quickly down the highway. She was on her third coke of the night to keep awake. She did not particularly see the urgency of the task she had been hired for, but the money was good enough to make it worthwhile, especially since she needed to lay low for a while anyway. Pena's last mission for her put quite a bit of heat on her head.

"Are we just about there?" Robert Kasta said as he rubbed his eyes.

"Should be there in an hour or so," Steele told him as she brushed her black hair back, "how well do you know the area?"

"Pretty well," Kasta said, yawning a little, "Spent about a couple days there finishing a job for Bolantine a few weeks ago."

"Bolantine is a strange man," Elise said as she drove, "and I've been surrounded with strange men for a long time."

"He's getting old," Kasta chuckled, "evidently this project is a last hurrah for him. It means a lot to him and the money is good."

"That's why I'm here," Elise said, "even if I do think that this is a fool's errand."

"Definitely could be worse," Kasta shrugged, "at least this time there's not a precise kill target."

"Those are usually easier," Elise said, "but hopefully we'll grab those two idiots and rush them the hell out of the area."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Kasta nodded, "they're expecting us and should be coming willingly."

"Good," Elise said, "I'll believe it when I see it though."

"Want to get some food before we get into town?" Kasta asked her.

"Yeah," Elise said, "you can take the last leg of driving too. I want to get my weapons ready."

"You think you'll need them?" Kasta wondered, "Supposed to be a quick in and out."

"Spoken just like a man," Elise muttered, "I'd rather be prepared, just in case."

"Right," Kasta said, rolling his eyes, "There's a Denny's at the next exit. Good enough place to stop."

"That works," Elise said as she pulled off, "I could use a good breakfast."

"Well, you'll have to settle for a mediocre one there," Kasta chuckled.

Elise scowled at him and continued toward the exit.

## Chapter 29: Isolation Cell, South Laboratory, Boland Creek, NY

James Entragian paced around the laboratory grabbing the things he needed and putting them into his black case. Elliot Sumner packed all of the laboratory results from the FTU-237 trials into a briefcase. They knew they were running out of time and that they had to figure out what to do with the test subjects.

"What do we do about Blake and Robinson?" Sumner asked Entragian, "We don't want to leave them around to talk."

"Blake is already dead," Entragian said, "We'll let Bolantine's people do Robinson."

"What about the subjects?" Sumner wondered.

"You know that jar of hydrochloric acid?" Entragian said while packing, "We'll inject that into their veins. That should kill them or at least render them vegetables."

"Good luck getting it in Mason's body," Sumner said, "He's turning into a feisty one."

"Tranq gun should slow him down long enough to do it," Entragian shrugged, "you shoot him and I'll administer the shot."

"When are they supposed to be here?" Elliot asked.

"Bolantine said they'd be here sometime this morning," Entragian said, "Hopefully soon. I doubt that the cops will identify the corpses anytime soon, but I don't want to take the chance."

"We're leaving everything," Elliot sighed, "you know this right?"

"Do we have a choice?" Entragian told him, "Now get those HCL syringes ready."

"Right," Sumner nodded.

Elliot took down the jar of hydrochloric acid and pulled out two heavy-duty syringes. These were usually used for testing substances, but they were strong enough to hold the acid without melting. The little man adjusted his glasses and then drew the large syringes full of the corrosive liquid.

"They're on the table, James," Elliot told him, "any suggestions on the tranquilizer?"

"The ape darts," Entragian said, "fire until he drops."

"Got it," Sumner nodded, "better follow me. I don't know how long this will knock him out."

"Right," Entragian said, "let's get this over with."

James Entragian was not thrilled at the speed this was going. He wanted more test time, but he figured he had no choice. He also did not like having to terminate his patients so early, but he did not want to leave anything for the feds to follow.

Elliot Sumner walked into the animal isolation cell and looked at Mason. Mason sat up against the wall and looked at the little man holding the gun. He did not have it in him to regard the little doctor with anything other than contempt. Sleep had not really come at all for him since he had been in the cell so he was a bit out of it.

"Here for more torment, asshole," Mason said as he looked at Sumner, "how about some food?"

"You won't need any food where you're going," Sumner said.

Mason sat up a little and looked at the gun Sumner was holding. He almost chuckled at the little pistol, until the little man pulled the trigger, sending the first dart flying into Mason's uncovered chest. Mason looked at the dart quizzically and started laughing.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mason said through the laughter, "You think you're going to kill me with a little dart..."

Sumner fired two more times and then reloaded the automatic clip. Mason rushed the edge of the cage, reaching out to try to catch the little man's arm, but the powerful sedatives started taking effect. He went down quickly and hit his head on the hard concrete floor of the cell.

"He's down," Sumner said, "better shoot him up quick, James. I don't know how long it will take him to burn it off."

Entragian nodded and went into the cage. He didn't worry about swabbing Mason's skin, he simply jabbed the thick needle into Mason's chest, pushing hard to make sure all of the caustic acid went into his heart, something that in a normal person would burn the insides out, causing death almost instantly.

"Open her cage," Entragian said, "I'll get her too."

"Right," Sumner nodded, "let's hope this works."

Entragian opened the other cell and gave a good kick to Blake's still form before going over to Karen's body. He took the large syringe and jammed it into her chest, pushing the acid into her body. Her flesh shook as the acid worked its way into her chest. Entragian looked at her and opened up an eye to see if she was dying.

"Go wait for our people," Entragian said to Sumner, "I'll finish the packing."

## Chapter 30: Main Street Café, Boland Creek, NY

"Your goddamned judge is a bitch to find," Benny Roeder grumbled, "you sure he'll be here?"

"You know as much as I do," Gabriel said, "I don't think there's been need of an emergency search warrant here in years. No procedures in place for it."

"Fucking A," Roeder said, "how do you get anything done here?"

"I rarely have to," Gabriel smiled as he opened the door, "let's see what we have."

Chris Gabriel looked around and didn't see the judge anywhere in the room. He growled and went over to the bar, where the waitress beamed a smile at him. She offered him a menu, which he declined politely.

"Don't have time this morning," Chris told her, "I'm looking for Judge Trimmings. His wife said he came here for breakfast."

"He hasn't been in yet," the waitress said, "rumor has it that he and Betty Jo Bell are routinely having their morning exercise, though. Might want to try there."

"You're kidding me," Roeder said, "did I just walk into a daytime soap opera?"

Chris Gabriel could not hold it in any longer. He looked at his old friend and just started laughing. Roeder looked hurt for a second until he realized just how funny the situation was. The waitress looked at them and wondered just what was going on.

"Why are you trying to find the judge anyway?" the waitress asked, "His court isn't even in session today."

"I need him to sign a warrant for me," Chris said, "we need to search that medical place out on highway ten."

Colonel Strader, while having breakfast in the corner, perked up at that one. He had gone off the wagon the night before and his head was predictably pounding. He sucked down his coffee and stood up to go talk to Gabriel and Roeder.

"Warrant for Entragian's place?" Strader asked, "Why?"

"One of those corpses he showed us," Gabriel explained, "It was the body of a missing federal witness."

"The girl?" Strader asked, "Son of a bitch... I knew something hinky was going on there."

"Who are you?" Roeder asked Strader, "What do you know about her?"

"Colonel Strader," Gabriel said, "this is Benny Roeder from the FBI. Colonel Strader is an investigator for the army."

"Mind if I tag along?" Strader asked them, "If he's doing something illegal, I need to know it for my report."

"Absolutely," Gabriel nodded, "we could use the support."

"Christ," Strader muttered, "I knew he was hiding something. I need to make a few calls."

"We'll go round up the judge," Gabriel told him, "you can make your calls and we'll stop at the motel before we go out to Entragian's."

"All right," Strader said, leaving money on the table, "Let's find out what Entragian and his band of idiots are up to."

## Chapter 31: Parking Lot, Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Elliot Sumner went out to the front and saw a car he did not recognize. Robert Kasta got out first, which was lucky for Sumner, as he had met the man before. Elise Steele got out of the car, showing her six foot two inch frame quite nicely. Elliot's jaw dropped when he saw Elise, who was a head-turner even after spending nearly six hours in the car.

"You Sumner?" Elise said, her dark eyes boring into him, "Are you ready to go?"

"Just about," Elliot said, fighting a stammer, "James is inside getting the formula ready to go. We terminated the two test subjects. We need you two to take out the other doctor."

"Is he here?" Kasta asked him, "Bolantine wants us to get moving."

"Not yet," Sumner told him, "Robinson should be here momentarily."

"Let's get everything," Steele said, looking around, "Are we expecting any trouble?"

"I don't think so," Sumner said, "we just need to get out and leave no trail that the feds can follow."

"Feds?" Kasta said, "They been sniffing around here because of the one I iced?"

"The one you iced?" Steele asked, "Nobody said anything about icing feds?"

"I iced a witness and her guardian," Kasta explained, "turned the bodies over to them for testing."

"Jesus," Steele spat, "that was fucking stupid. Are the bodies still here?"

"Yeah," Sumner nodded, "one of them was still alive, we used him as the initial successful test for FTU-237."

"You mean this shit actually works?" Elise asked, surprised, "How well?"

"Not too bad," Sumner shrugs, "we'll find out soon."

"Sounds like voodoo to me," Kasta shrugged, "let's get this over with."

The three of them walked into the building, but paused when they heard another vehicle out in the parking lot. Kasta and Steele looked at Sumner, who looked out and breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized Michael Robinson's car. He looked at them and smiled that geeky smile of his.

"That's the other one we need eliminated," Sumner said, "would one of you care to do the honor?"

"Let's get him inside," Elise said, "I'll get him there."

While Elliot and the killers were plotting to eliminate Michael Robinson, Trip Mason was overcoming the tranquilizers and acid that had been introduced into his body. He sat up and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. He knew his chest hurt, but he was a little rejuvenated by the fact that the door was open.

"About fucking time they made a mistake," Mason growled as he pulled himself up and walked out the door, "now they pay."

As Mason stood up and walked out of the cell Elise Steele was very roughly strangling Michael Robinson just inside the door. Her arms, well toned by many years of exercise, were more than a match for the young and wiry doctor. Kasta and Sumner went towards the South lab to meet up with Entragian.

Mason, Kasta and Sumner headed for Entragian at roughly the same speed, though Mason had less idea where he was going. He was merely looking for a way out at this point. Finding Entragian was part of his plan, but he was not particularly willing to try it naked and alone.

Entragian was looking in a box for some paperwork when Mason, Kasta and Sumner entered the room at the same time. Mason's eyes went wide when he saw Kasta, because he remembered the man from the last moments of his natural life.

"You son of a bitch!" Mason exclaimed when he saw Kasta, "You're the bastard who shot me!"

"Holy shit!" Kasta exclaimed, "I killed him!"

Entragian and Sumner were both shocked to see Mason up and walking around. Robert Kasta was nearly floored by the walking corpse. Mason thought about what to do and decided that standing there was a bad idea. He followed the old adage of 'Damn the Torpedoes!' and ran towards Kasta as fast as he could.

"Jesus!" Kasta yelled and tried to pull his weapon.

Kasta managed to get his little .38 pistol out of his pocket, but not before Mason launched himself off the floor full force at him. Kasta managed to pull the trigger once, but the bullet was poorly aimed and went harmlessly through the flesh on Mason's right arm.

Mason let out a banshee howl as he tore into Kasta, knocking the man down onto the ground and pounding on him. Entragian ran over to the gun locker and frantically tried to pull it open. Sumner decided to make a mad dash for the papers and remaining bottles of the serum, throwing them all into the suitcase before doing anything else.

Robert Kasta's head was a bloody mess on the floor within a minute. Trip Mason's sanity was pretty well gone by this point, and he made sure that Robert Kasta would never hurt anyone else again. Entragian, meanwhile, had opened the gun closet and picked up a machine pistol and gone up behind Mason, getting into a stance and trying to cock the thing.

In all the commotion, Elise Steele finished with Robinson and decided to check out the signs of fighting. Sumner, on the other hand, grabbed the case and went past Mason. Finally Entragian remembered how to cock the weapon and it made an audible click, catching Mason's attention.

"You think that will do any good, Entragian?" Mason said as he turned around, covered with Robert Kasta's blood, "Haven't you learned your lesson yet?"

"If I take off your head," Entragian said, his hands shaking, "I doubt you'll come back, motherfucker!"

"Good idea," a rasping female voice said behind Entragian, "you insane bastard!"

Mason looked past Entragian to see Karen Dean holding a shotgun that she had just pulled out of the closet. Entragian turned around, his eyes wide, just in time to see Karen pull the trigger on the shotgun and turned his head into a bloody red cloud. They both watched as Entragian's body fell backward and crushed several glass bottles of serum that he had been packing. There was a shower of liquid and blood as the table collapsed under the dead weight.

Elise Steele ran towards the room with her gun pulled and saw the bodies. Sumner ran behind her with case in hand. Mason acted quick, pulling the gun from Entragian's dead hands and started pulling it up towards Steele. Elise Steele was much quicker on the trigger, her .357 magnum severing Mason's left hand at the wrist, causing him to drop the machine pistol.

"I've got the stuff!" Sumner cried, "Get me out of here! You can't kill them!"

Elise shook her head quick and decided that it was not worth the fight, especially considering that she did not even particularly like Robert Kasta. She turned and followed Elliot Sumner, directing him to the Mercedes sedan. Mason pursued them out the door, ignoring the pain coming from his severed hand.

Elise started the car as Sumner threw his stuff in there. Mason could do little but watch in the cold as the two of them escaped the compound, turning onto the highway and speeding away. Mason growled and walked back inside to where Karen Dean was standing there, gaping at the corpses on the floor. Mason went over and took the shotgun away from her, placing it down on the table.

"I guess you decided to wake up," Mason said, "are you ok?"

"Do I look ok?" Karen asked him, "I just killed someone."

"Don't feel bad," Mason said, "that was Entragian, the one who did this to us. How much of my bullshit did you hear?"

"Enough," Karen said, looking around, "What the hell happened here?"

"They tried to kill us off," Mason told her, "I still don't know what they did to us. I assume that you were nearly dead too?"

"Last thing I really remember was chemotherapy," Karen admitted, "I don't know how long I've been out."

"Me either," Mason admitted, "though I somehow doubt it's been as long as you. Who was president last you remember?"

"I signed an absentee ballot for George Bush," she said, "he was running against this upstart from Arkansas."

"Jesus," Mason said, "you've been down for at least six years. Clinton is in his second term last I remember."

"How did they do this?" Karen asked him, "And didn't that woman sever your hand?"

Mason looked at his left wrist and was shocked to see that in the five minutes or so since he had been shot it had regenerated entirely. He worked the fingers a little and realized that it was picture perfect. He didn't know what to make of that. She looked just as scared as he did.

"She did take it off," Mason said, "That's it on the floor. This isn't physically possible! I swear we must be caught in a nightmare!"

"You can say that again," Nathan Blake's voice came from the door of the isolation chamber, "a nightmare called FTU-237."

"Who the hell are you?" Karen asked.

"You're one of the doctors," Mason said, picking up the machine pistol, "One of the motherfuckers who did this to us."

"Yeah," Blake nodded, "I am, but I think we're past that now. The balance of power is in your court, not mine."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you now," Mason growled.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Blake said, "But I figured you two might want to know a little bit about what has happened to you."

"You're willing to tell us?" Karen asked him, "Why now? Because we have a gun on you?"

"My life is over regardless," Blake shrugged, "we can't hide all these bodies. Colonel Strader will be here at any time and there will be hell to pay. I'll be in jail by tonight."

"Forgive me for not weeping for you," Mason told him, his eyes showing little pity.

"I don't expect your pity," Blake said, brushing his gray hair back, "I do expect one thing from you though."

"What?" Mason asked him.

"I don't see Sumner's body," Blake said, "did he get away?"

"The little weasel got away with the help of a woman," Mason told him, "he took a suitcase and a few bottles of a reddish brown liquid."

"Find him," Blake implored him, "before he uses that goddamned serum again."

"What is it?" Karen asked, "What the hell is it that can cure cancer, keep us alive and even regenerate his hand?"

"It's a formula called FTU-237," Blake said, "I'm not going to explain what it is because I doubt you'll understand it anyway. It doesn't matter, though. Explaining what it does is enough."

"I'm all for that," Mason said, "what does it do?"

"It was designed to aid the body in healing," Blake explained, sitting down, "Entragian screwed with the formula. Whatever he did it supercharged it, causing your immune systems to mutate."

"Mutate how?" Mason asked him, "What this stuff did isn't physically possible, is it?"

"Genetic engineering has made some great strides," Blake shrugged, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, "And some of them are a bit out of this world."

"This is not a good thing," Karen said, her eyes going wide, "Who in the hell did you create this for?"

"Supposedly the army. They're the ones who have been funding us, at least that's what Entragian," Blake stopped for a moment to kick Entragian's headless corpse, "that's what this asshole always told us. I don't know how much of it was true or not."

"So how long will this shit last on us?" Mason asked him.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Blake said, "Some of the stuff they put into it mutated you. It may never wear off. It may be a permanent change to your physiology."

"Permanent," Mason said, his eyes filled with hatred, "You insane sons of bitches."

"I'm not going to deny it," Blake sighed, "I was trying to avoid warping the genome. The formula started as a reverse of something I created for the chemical warfare labs a decade ago. It was supposed to only accelerate healing, not to radically change the genetic structure."

"So what side effects will we have from this?" Karen asked him, "How long will this last?"

"You may croak tomorrow or you may be immortal," Blake told them, "we never got a chance to do any full testing on you. Elliot falsified the tests he gave me. The only reason I know what I do is because of the tests I ran on her blood last night."

"What a mess," Mason said, "this is not a good thing, here."

"My family has to be worried sick," Karen said, "I've got to find them."

"Looking like you do?" Blake said, "Have you taken a good look in the mirror, honey?"

"She looks fine to me," Mason said, "very pretty, in fact."

"For a woman who is approaching sixty, I'm sure," Karen said, "Unless you find gray hair appealing."

"I'm just short of sixty myself..." Mason started then realized, "Wait a minute, you are approaching sixty?"

"Aging is just a natural process where the body breaks down," Blake explained, "On top of the regenerative properties, I think our late unlamented friend here came across the fountain of youth."

"We're screwed," Mason said, "If the army figures out what you've done, they're going to try to make us lab rats for sure."

"All I want is to go home," Karen sighed, "that's not going to happen, is it?"

"Not anytime soon," Blake said, "listen to me. You've seen what this stuff can do. Do you really want to see it in the hands of an army, even ours?"

"Not particularly," Mason growled, "sumner got away with the formula, didn't he?"

"Probably," Blake allowed, "and Strader is going to be here before long. I doubt you'll want to be here when he brings the cavalry in."

"How many people know how to make this glop?" Mason asked him, "I think we can all agree that we want to make sure this stuff is never used again."

"I know how to make it," Blake said, "Entragian used to, so did Gordon and Robinson."

"Robinson was the young man with you, right?" Mason said, looking for confirmation, "The insane bitch that took Sumner must have killed him. His body is lying just inside the doorway."

"So much death," Karen said, tears welling in her eyes, "Was it worth it, Dr. Blake?"

"I'd say it wasn't," Blake sighed, "so what are you going to do?"

"I don't know about you, lady," Mason said to Karen, "but I'm going to go after that little weasel."

"What's going to happen to me?" Karen asked, "Can I go home?"

"I don't know," Mason said, "where did you find her, Blake?"

"Entragian and Sumner pulled her out of the local hospital," Blake told him, "I'm still not sure where the hell they got you and the other girl."

"Speaking of Alecia," Mason said, "where is she?"

"In the morgue," Blake told him, "she was dead when she got here. You were barely alive."

"Got any ideas how they found you?" Karen asked Mason.

"Him," Mason said, pointing at Robert Kasta's bloody corpse, "He's the bastard who shot us. Don't know who he worked for, but I'm sure I'll figure that out later."

"I wish I could help you with that," Blake smiled, "but I'm afraid I'd be more trouble than I'm worth."

"What do you mean by that?" Karen asked him, "You know this crap better than anyone."

"That's why he'd be of little help," Mason said, knowing what Blake meant, "The feds will be looking for you as soon as that Colonel you mentioned shows up here."

"They'll find me here," Blake said, "I'm not cut out for life on the run."

"So you go to the military by default?" Karen said, not getting it, "I thought you said you didn't want the government to have this?"

"They won't be able to get anything out of me," Blake said, "I can't live with what I've created."

"You don't mean," Karen said, "you're not!"

"Do me a favor," Blake said to Mason, "take care of her and make damn sure you get Elliot."

"This is insane," Karen said, standing up and looking at the two men incredulously, "You don't commit suicide over a mistake."

"This is more than a mistake," Blake sighed, "my life is over. I'd prefer not to make my exit any worse."

"How much evidence is there of this stuff here?" Mason asked him, "It would be rather pointless for me to hunt that prick down if they can figure it out from here."

"Enough so that you might want to consider a nice fire," Blake told him, "you're right about Brian Gordon's size. You can help yourself to the stuff in his locker."

"What about her?" Mason asked, "Any ideas?"

"Elliot's clothes are probably going to be the closest match," Blake told them, "that's the best we're going to be able to do."

"Where are we?" Mason asked him.

"A few miles from where you were shot," Blake told him, "it's been 11 days."

"Great," Mason said, "not long enough. They're probably still looking for me, especially if Kasta was dumb enough to leave my stuff there."

"He was," Blake said, "it was in the papers. I'd already guessed you were the victim of that shooting. No word on if they identified you."

"Shit," Mason growled, "and I bet I don't look a thing like my identification."

"Check your hair," Blake suggested, "I'm betting that whatever you had for a hair color when you were young will be starting to come back."

"Do you mind?" Mason asked Karen.

"Take a look," she said, bending over a little, "I was a blonde when I was younger."

"You're blonde again too," Mason told her, "how bout me?"

"Beneath the gray there's about a quarter inch of black hair," Karen told him, "black as night."

"That's what it was twenty years ago," Mason told her, "I guess this shit is for real."

"Take what you need and blow the place away," Blake told them, "might want to take that hand of yours and toss it near the explosion so it'll get identified."

"Probably should do something similar for you," Mason told Karen.

"You're not cutting off my hand," Karen said, "besides, is there any proof I was here?"

"She's got a point," Blake said, "no need to confuse the issue. They'll probably assume she's dead before long."

"Let's rock," Mason said, "where's the locker room?"

"Down the hall to your left," Blake said, "any suggestions for me?"

"Put it in your mouth and aim towards the back of the throat," Mason told him as he went to the gun closet handing a silver pistol to him, "use this .45 automatic. It'll take out the connection to the spinal column. Quite painless and very quick."

"This is disgusting," Karen said, "I can't watch this."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Blake said, and tossed Mason a set of car keys, "Those go to my car, the Buick outside. My wallet is in the glove box. My ATM code is 8237. Take what you can get. I won't need it anymore."

"Thanks," Mason said, "give them hell on the other side, Blake."

"Right," Blake said, "get the son of a bitch. I'll be there at the gates of hell to kick him in the teeth."

"I'm sure I'll see you there," Mason smiled, "come on, lady. Let's find some clothes. You've seen more of me than any woman has in years."

Karen looked at both men and walked out of the room. Mason clapped the doctor on the back and walked out of the room, following Karen to the locker room that Blake had directed them to. Mason went directly over to the lockers and pried a couple of them open. He tried a couple pairs of pants and finally found some that would fit him reasonably well.

"Yes!" Mason exclaimed, "Clothes!"

"How could you do that?" Karen asked him, "How could you encourage him to..."

A shot rang out and Karen jumped. Mason closed his eyes and said a word to the unknown powers. After a second they looked at each other, tears in her eyes and a twinge of regret in his. She saw that and realized Mason did not want it to happen anymore than she did.

"Get dressed," Mason said, "we're running out of time, kid."

"Kid," Karen chuckled, "I'm no more a kid than you are."

"What's your name?" Mason asked her, "I figure you and I are going to get to know each other fairly well."

"Karen Dean," she told him and offered a hand, "how about you?"

"Trip Mason," he told her while gripping it firmly, "you can call me Mason though, most everyone else does."

"Thanks," Karen smiled, "so what do we do now?"

"Let's get ready to cause some destruction," Mason said as he got dressed, "get yourself properly attired and we'll do some damage. I want this place in flames before we deal with anything else."

"You got it," Karen told him, "just please promise to explain this to me sometime?"

"As soon as I figure it out myself," Mason promised, "I figure sometime around our 200th birthday."

Karen nodded and quickly got into the extra set of pants in the locker. Brian Gordon's clothes fit Mason much better than Elliot's did for her, though he did not care too much for the style. The only thing that Mason liked out of the locker was a black leather flight jacket, one that he put on and fit him perfectly.

"It looks good on you," Karen told him.

"Thanks," Mason said, smiling, "it's even cut correctly to hold a weapon. Dr. Gordon must have either been in the military or had a relative that was. Usually they don't give these out."

"It's just a flight jacket isn't it?" Karen asked him.

"This is one of the ones designed to hold a pilot's sidearm," Mason explained, "a buddy of mine had one and I always wanted to obtain one, but never could find them on the outside."

"Glad someone got something they wanted today," Karen sighed.

"Trust me," Mason said as he clicked the weapon slide and put it into the jacket, "it wasn't worth it."

## Chapter 32: Sidewalk in front of Belasko Motel, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel looked extremely annoyed as he parked in the only remaining slot in the motel parking lot. The weather was turning and it looked like it was about to snow again. Benny Roeder stood up and could not help but chuckle at his old friend's pained expression.

"I've never seen a judge wearing a tutu before," Roeder chuckled, "I bet he would have signed a search warrant for a strip search on Doris Day in that condition."

"Knowing that drunk he would have signed it anyway," Gabriel said, "I could have done without seeing that display though."

"If you ever run into static with him you can always threaten to tell his wife," Roeder said, "having something over a judge is always a good thing."

"Let's grab the Colonel and get up there," Gabriel said, "I have a nasty suspicion that if we wait too long it'll be too late."

"There he is," Roeder said, "let's get him."

Gabriel pulled up next to Strader's car and opened the window. Strader hit the power window on the passenger side and looked up at the sheriff. Gabriel saw the look in his eyes, that of a tired drunk. He had seen one in the mirror numerous times before Carrie had forced him off the booze.

"You ok, Colonel?" Gabriel asked.

"I'll be fine," Strader said, "I know the way and I'll follow. Have you got anyone following?"

"Not yet," Gabriel told him, "we should be able to secure the place. No need for a swat team."

"I've got a military containment team out of Albany on its way," Strader said, "even if we don't find anything other than that girl's corpse I'm taking over the place. I don't know if they've broken any laws, but they broke their military contract."

"You mean I didn't need this warrant?" Gabriel asked him, "You could have waltzed in and made him show you everything?"

"I could have," Strader said, "but you probably are better off with the warrant."

"Debate the semantics later," Roeder said, "let's get up there!"

"Right," Gabriel said, "let's move."

"I'm following you," Strader smiled.

They both pulled out and started down the highway.

## Chapter 33: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

Bolantine was in his usual seat next to Nikki's bed, stroking the girl's salt and pepper hair. He heard the phone ring, but knew that Alvin would get it. He continued studying the girl's still form, just as he had done every day since she had been injured back in 1969.

"It shouldn't be long now, Nikki," Bolantine told her, "you will live again!"

Bolantine sat another minute until Alvin Christie walked into the room holding a telephone. The look on Christie's face told him that it was not something he was going to particularly want to hear about.

"What is it, Alvin?" Bolantine asked him.

"Elise Steele is on the phone," Christie said, "she wants to talk to you."

"I don't know her," Bolantine said, "I'd rather talk to Robert."

"That's what she wants to talk to you about, I think," Alvin said.

"If that bitch has..." Bolantine started and then caught himself, "Give me the phone."

Alvin nodded and handed the cordless phone over to his boss. He knew something had gone wrong and he could only hope that it would be fatal to the project. Bolantine put the phone to his ear and greeted Steele as kindly as he could manage.

"Bolantine here," the old man said, "where's Robert Kasta?"

"Lying dead on the floor of that fucking nuthouse you sent us to," Steele growled into the phone, "all hell was breaking loose when I got there."

"Did you get Entragian and Sumner out?" Bolantine asked in hushed tones, feeling everything slip away, "More importantly, did you get their formula?"

"Entragian is dead," Steele told him, "his head is a grease spot on the wall. The little weasel Sumner grabbed the stuff and we booked it before we could meet the same fate. I managed to wing the bastard that got Kasta, but I wasn't about to brave a shotgun to avenge his death."

"You did right," Bolantine said, "so you have Sumner and the formula?"

"Right," Steele nodded, "and I have a feeling his face is going to become rather famous soon."

"Where are you?" Bolantine asked her, "Safely away from there?"

"I'm at a truck stop about ten miles away," Elise said, "I wanted to check in and tell you that my price just went up. I charge extra for getting shot at."

"Get him here and I'll double the price," Bolantine said without hesitation, "avoid public transportation and drive here."

"You got it," Elise said, smiling, "It'll probably be a few days. We're going to have to take it slow and avoid main highways in case someone is hunting us."

"Make it quick," Bolantine said, "just keep that idiot alive until you get here."

"See you in a few days," Elise said and put the phone back on the hook.

Bolantine looked over at Alvin Christie with a smile on his face. Christie looked back at his boss and wondered why he had just agreed to pay so much money to that girl.

"You're paying her double to bring only half?" Christie said, "Doesn't sound right."

"She's got all we need," Bolantine said, "and I'll be paying the same amount. Kasta is dead, I'll give her his share. Means nothing to me. Just so long as she can live again."

"Right," Christie said, "I'm going to go take care of some business. You staying here, sir?"

"For now," Bolantine admitted, "keep an eye out for Elise. When they get in I want them brought in here immediately."

"No problem," Christie nodded, "I'll be back in a few."

Alvin left his boss sitting and stroking Nikki's hair. He went out of the building quickly and met two people out by the garage. The young men were roughly dressed and looked at the impeccably dressed Christie suspiciously. Theirs was an alliance of necessity, not of desire.

"Did you do anything to set up Kasta?" Christie said, "Evidently he's dead."

"I planned on catching them on the road," the first one said, "what happened?"

"I don't know," Christie told him, "put your sights out on that Steele bitch. She's got only one of the doctors. If you want to make sure Bolantine passes quietly, make sure she doesn't get here. Capiche?"

"You got it," The other one nodded.

"Get out of here," Christie said, "I've got work to do as well."

## Chapter 34: Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Mason Stone relished the vandalism as he did it, shattering computers and wiping the hard drives with magnets. Karen did not know one end of a computer from another, so she concentrated on the paper files, tossing them all into a nice bonfire that Mason had created for her.

"The flames are starting to get larger," Karen said, "it's going to spread soon."

"Let them," Mason said, "I wouldn't mind seeing this place go up. Would you?"

"Much longer and it's going to attract fire trucks," Karen told him, "we might want to consider getting out of here."

"Finish up getting the papers in the fire," Mason said, "I want to get three of the bodies out of here to make sure they get identified."

"Which three?" Karen asked him.

"Entragian, the shooter, and Alecia," Mason said, and then thought it over, "Make it four. I want the other doctor identified too. I think the other corpses are just medical supply company issue."

"Why do you want them identified?" Karen asked as she burned a few more folders.

"Entragian so they'll know to look for Sumner," Mason said, "the shooter so I can find out his identity later on and find his boss. Alecia so they'll identify her and assume that my corpse was lost in the fire."

"And the other doctor so they'll give him a decent burial," Karen said, "I see."

"Once I move those bodies," Mason told her, "we'll set the chemicals off. This place will go up like a Christmas tree."

"Let's do it quick," Karen said, "I just want to get out of here."

"Me too," Mason promised her.

He went and got a gurney and loaded Entragian and Kasta onto it roughly. He pushed it roughly out the door and dumped them into the snow. After that, he went inside and dragged Robinson's body out to the snow as well, knowing the snow would probably keep them from burning.

"I hate corpses," Mason grumbled as he went back inside.

That did not stop him from going to the morgue and opening up the doors. He went through all of them until he found the corpses that obviously did not belong. Alecia was dead as a doornail and did not look much like the beautiful woman he once knew. He sighed as he lifted her body onto the gurney.

"Sorry kid," Mason said, "I fucked up."

Mason yanked the body of Dr. Gordon out of the cooler and put it on top of Alecia's body. He wheeled them out and deposited them in the snow as well. He knew they were running out of time, so he went back to the offices where Karen was burning files. When he walked into the room he was surprised to see Karen looking quizzically into a briefcase.

"What?" Mason asked her.

"Look," Karen said, pointing in the case.

Mason looked into the case and was rather surprised to see a case full of used ten and twenty dollar bills. He flipped up one of the packets and figured there had to be at least a hundred thousand dollars in that case.

"Thank you, Entragian," Mason smiled, "Good. We'll take that with us."

"What now?" Karen asked.

"I'm going to set the explosive chemicals up," Mason told her, "go find his car and get it started."

"You got it," Karen said, more than happy to get out of this building, "Be careful."

"Always," Mason told her.

Mason went over to the munitions cabinet and opened it up, turning it over. He spread the munitions around and took one of them himself. He looked at the simple .45 caliber weapon and checked the rounds. He grabbed a few more boxes of ammunition and walked to the door. He aimed the weapon and fired two shots to set the stuff off, running out of the building as the fire got worse.

"What the hell was that?" Karen asked from the driver's seat, "Sounded like more shots!"

"Good guess," Mason said, "I set off the munitions. How long has it been since you've driven?"

"Quite a while," Karen admitted as she slid to the passenger side, "you can do it."

Mason nodded and took the driver's seat, shifting the car into gear and pulling out onto highway ten. He looked around a little bit and found a place to park about four hundred yards down the road, just out of sight of Entragian's place. He backed the car into the place in the trees and looked at Karen.

"I thought you'd want to get out of here?" Karen said, "I know I do."

"I want to know who comes here first," Mason grinned, "how better to know who is chasing us, if anyone?"

"If you say so," Karen said, not thrilled at all, "How do we find out?"

"We walk," Mason said, "it's just over the hill."

Karen sighed and decided to follow him, mainly because she knew she was out of her element. They hiked through the snow and managed to get on a ridge overlooking the parking area. Mason looked over at the burning building and smiled, glad to see the place of evil going up in flames.

"Kinda warms your heart, doesn't it?" Mason said to Karen.

"If not my feet," Karen said sourly, "I'm wearing a pair of shoes two sizes two big and my feet are freezing."

"We'll give it a few minutes," Mason said, "we need to figure out where to go anyway."

"I'm lost, Mason," Karen sighed, "I just want to go home."

"Home," Mason said, "I don't even know what that means anymore."

"Don't you have family that is going to miss you?" Karen asked him.

"What little is left of my family will probably party down after they find out I'm dead," Mason said sourly, "none of them wanted anything to do with me."

"Sounds horrible," Karen said, "I miss my husband."

"Even if Kelly could recognize me," Mason told her, "I doubt she'd care to see me again."

"Your wife?" Karen asked him.

"As of two weeks ago," Mason shrugged, "I think that legally ended when they declared me dead."

"If they've declared you dead," Karen smirked, "they may not do it at all."

"They will once they identify my hand," Mason grinned, "something I expect them to do rather quickly."

"You sound pleased by the fact that you're dead," Karen said, "was your life that bad?"

"I don't know about bad," Mason shrugged, "it's a new beginning. Not the route I would have chosen, but it's a break in the rut."

"Some break," Karen sighed, "so how long are we going to wait here in the cold?"

"A bit longer," Mason said, "I want a place to start."

"You're serious about going after them?" Karen said, "What business is it of ours?"

"I don't want this shit getting out," Mason told her, "do you?"

"No," Karen admitted, "but what can we do?"

"Quite a bit," Mason said, "but I want to know who else is in the game before we do anything. That's why we're here."

"Right," Karen sighed, "I just hope someone notices before we freeze."

"I think you're getting your wish," Mason said pointing down the road, "there's a sheriff's vehicle."

"The other car must have been following," Karen said, watching a little closer now, "They both pulled off together."

The two of them watched as three people got out of the cars. Mason easily recognized Benny Roeder, which surprised him a little. He did not expect to see Benny on site so quickly. The other one looked familiar too, but he never knew Chris Gabriel personally.

"Ok," Karen said, "there they are. Do you recognize any of them?"

"The short one in the middle," Mason said, "that's Benny Roeder. He was my boss in the Runner's program."

"So he's the one who sent you running around the country," Karen said, "running around with federal witnesses, right?"

"You could hear me?" Mason asked surprised, "Guess I didn't talk for nothing then."

"Why do you think I shot him?" Karen smiled, "Because I heard all the conversations. I knew I couldn't let him win."

"You get no argument from me," Mason said, "I think the one with the pronounced limp is the local sheriff. He's young, but has too much authority in him to be a deputy. Not to mention I've seen him somewhere before."

"The one who came in alone looks military," Karen said, "he's not in uniform, but he's standing rigid. He looks pissed too."

"Well, Blake said it was a military project," Mason said, "that must be the Colonel Strader he was talking about."

They watched for a few more minutes and then quietly slipped away. They went back to the car, which Mason turned on. They looked at each other quietly and did not know what to do next.

"Now what?" Karen asked him.

"Let's get ourselves cleaned up," Mason sighed, "in another day or two I'm not going to be able to pass for either age."

"The black is almost visible in your beard," Karen agreed, "I probably look weirder than you do."

"This town has a single motel I think," Mason told her, "we'll get a room there and I'll hit a drug store."

"Works for me," Karen said, "I could use a nice hot shower."

"You'll get it," Mason said, "provided I can get us a room."

"I have faith," Karen smiled, "that's about the only thing I have right now."

"That's a start," Mason chuckled, "we'll just have to take it from there."

## Chapter 35: Entragian Research Clinic, Boland Creek, NY

Chris Gabriel looked at the firemen working on containing the flames in the building. He shook his head and sighed. The place was a mess and just getting worse. He was grateful that this was going to be pulled out of his jurisdiction shortly. Either Benny was going to take it for the FBI, or Strader's military people were going to take it because of the sensitive research.

He limped over to the snow bank where Benny was checking out the bodies. Benny Roeder looked closely at Alecia Tracer's body, pushing the strands of hair out of her eyes. Chris looked over and saw the tears welling in his old friend's eyes.

"I was right, I guess," Chris said, "that's her, isn't it?"

"That's her," Benny sighed, "that means Mason is probably dead too."

"I didn't see him in the vault," Chris shrugged, "but that doesn't mean he's not in that mess somewhere."

"This is going to be a nice jurisdictional fight," Benny said.

"Not from me," Chris said, "I don't want it."

"I knew you'd give it up," Benny nodded, "Strader won't."

"Forgive me," Chris chuckled, "but I'm glad this isn't my mess."

They both watched as Strader paced around talking on a cell phone. The colonel had veins poking out of his neck and he was livid. He also occasionally held the phone away from his ear in response to the yelling over the other end.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Strader yelled back into the phone, "I hadn't even had time to do much more than go over their books! As soon as I found out I worked with the cops on it."

Gabriel and Roeder looked at each other, realizing that Strader was getting a massive chewing out.

"There's more to it than that," Strader said into the phone, "a dead federal witness and a possible dead cop. It's a burning cluster fuck right now!"

"Understatement," Chris Gabriel said to Benny Roeder.

"Totally," Benny sighed.

"I'm not going to obstruct a federal investigation, General," Strader said into the phone, and then listened for a minute, "Yes, I can protect the research, if any of it survived. If any of them survived, I'll head up the search for them myself."

Strader growled and clicked off the phone. He walked over and looked at the corpses, then looked at Gabriel and Roeder. The displeasure in his eyes was evident, but not directed at them.

"I guess we have to hash out jurisdiction now," Strader grumbled, "is that your girl?"

"Yeah," Roeder nodded, "not sure about the others."

"That's Michael Robinson," Gabriel said, pointing at one of the bodies, "The headless one may be Entragian. The build is right."

"Great," Strader said, "this one is Blake, I think. Looks like suicide."

"Who the hell moved the bodies?" Roeder said, "And where is Mason?"

"No sign of Sumner or Mason yet," Gabriel said, "unless that corpse over by the door is Mason."

"What corpse by the door?" Roeder asked, "I haven't seen that one yet."

Benny went over and looked at the body, surprised at the sight. He was shooed away quickly by one of the firemen and went back to where Gabriel and Strader were standing over by the other corpses.

"Son of a bitch," Roeder grumbled, "now we know who did it."

"What?" Gabriel asked, "Who did what?"

"Mason and Tracer," Roeder told them, "the body by the door is Robert Kasta. He's one of Bolantine's thugs."

"Who's Bolantine?" Strader asked.

"If I remember correctly," Gabriel said, "he's a crime boss up in the northwest."

"Isn't he dead?" Strader asked.

"He's approaching 90," Roeder corrected, "but he's just as mean as ever. Alecia Tracer was on the edge of his organization when we turned her. She got wind of something major of his, they wanted her dead pretty badly. She was due to testify this week."

"So how do we work this?" Gabriel said, "I don't have the resources for this, so I'm going to cede the jurisdiction. I just need to know who I'm ceding it to."

"I think the crimes are yours," Strader said, "but I need my people to go through the paperwork here first. They'll turn over anything that's relevant to your case, but I can't let you take anything classified."

"I don't think I'll need it," Roeder said, "besides, that's probably a moot point. I doubt anything major survived this mess."

"Let's hope something did," Gabriel sighed, "I'd hate to see this go unsolved."

"At least it's not your problem," Roeder said, "it'll look bad on one of our records, not yours."

"I don't care," Chris chuckled, "I don't intend to run for reelection anyway."

The three of them stood around silently, watching as the firemen put out the flames. The fire had taken some of the flammable liquid in the North lab quickly, leaving that part of the building pretty well flattened. The munitions fire in the South lab had caused some damage, but the small arms that Mason had lit off had not created as much of a stir.

In the better part of a half hour, the fire in the South lab was contained. Gabriel was not pushing to get in anytime soon, but Strader wanted to get into the place. The firemen were unable to stop the man as he rushed into the building.

"Is he an idiot?" Roeder said.

"Determined," Gabriel shrugged, "it's mostly out anyway. Not much of a risk."

"What do you want to bet the military clamps down on this?" Roeder grumbled, "We're going to get cut out."

"Probably," Gabriel agreed, "I'm glad it's not my problem."

"I give it three days before I'm recalled," Roeder said, watching for Strader, "How about you?"

"Depends on if there's anything left," Gabriel said as he sat down on the hood of Strader's car, "I wouldn't give very many odds on that. He may just look around and let you take responsibility for the whole mess."

"I'm not sure which would be better," Roeder grumbled.

Inside the building Colonel Strader looked through the remains of the offices, finding that they were pretty well gutted. It was obvious that this fire had been set, and that someone had done their best to make sure that no paper survived the inferno.

"What a mess," Strader said as he looked around, "have you found any more bodies?"

"We have a severed hand in here," one of the firefighters told him, "no sign of the rest of the body though."

"Great," Strader said, "bag it and let Roeder take custody."

"Right," the firefighter said, growling at the outside interference, "You should be waiting outside."

"Not until I find out whether I can retrieve anything else," Strader said, "Don't worry about me. I've seen worse than this."

The fireman shook his head and went back to looking for trouble spots while Strader looked around. He noticed the door that had always been covered when he was in the room. He kicked the door and walked into the soundproofed room. The fire really had not touched the isolation cells, so the gurney and the IV tubes were pretty well intact.

"What do we have here?" Strader said, "This is interesting."

Strader knew then that they had been hiding some experiments. He just did not know what they had discovered that was so earth shattering. The Colonel walked back out into the large laboratory to look around at the equipment. He looked over at the half-charred bed in the middle of the room and walked over.

"Is it safe over here?" Strader asked.

"As safe as anything else," the firefighter shrugged.

Strader walked around the bed and nearly tripped over a box. Strader looked closely at the box and determined that it had at one time been a videocassette recorder. He put it on the remains of the hospital bed and determined that it had a cassette still in it. The damage was mostly to the outside of the device, so he figured the cassette might still be salvageable.

"Can I borrow that axe for a minute," Strader said to one of the firemen.

The fireman looked at Strader and then handed it over. Strader looked closely at the case and lifted the axe. Without further ado, he brought it down on the top of the case, breaking open the plastic and exposing the insides. A second whack broke the melted cover in half.

Strader yanked the cover off and manipulated the pieces to release the videotape. It was in fairly decent shape considering what had happened to the recorder it had been housed in. He put it into his pocket and smiled a little, deciding to let the army investigative teams take it from there.

Gabriel and Roeder watched Strader as he walked out of the building. Strader had a smile on his face that the others did not quite understand. They looked at each other and knew that Strader had found something.

"What did you find?" Roeder asked them.

"Proof they were lying to me," Strader shrugged, "we'll work together for now, but the Army will handle the crime scene until further notice."

"I don't know as if I like that," Roeder said, "but if I fight you I get cut out totally, don't I?"

"You got it," Strader said, "national security issues with this research. My team will be here before long."

"I've got to call in," Roeder said, "do you need to stay here, Chris?"

"No," Chris said, "I guess my warrant doesn't really apply anymore. I think I'm heading back to the office."

"Mind if I tie up your phone for a bit?" Benny asked him.

"Feel free," Chris said, "you need anything more from us, Strader?"

"We'll work out the details in a few," Strader said as he got into his car, "for now, we'll let the firemen finish securing the scene before anyone else goes back in."

Roeder grumbled as he watched Strader drive away from the scene. Gabriel simply shrugged and started his blazer. Roeder finally shook his head and climbed into the vehicle. Chris Gabriel drove back towards the town, trying to put the corpses out of his mind.

## Chapter 36: Belasko Motel, Boland Creek, NY

Mason pulled the car over in front of the motel. He looked at Karen and shrugged his shoulders. She looked at him and then out at the little motel.

"What's the next move?" Karen asked him.

"Motel room," Mason said, "unless you can think of a better place to lay low around here."

"You probably have more recent experience with this town than I do," Karen said sighing a little, "nothing looks anything like I remember."

"Ok," Mason nodded, "I've been doing this for years. I can keep us hidden until we decide what to do, but you have to follow my instructions, ok?"

"I don't like this, Mason," Karen said, "I feel like a criminal."

"Until we figure out what is what," Mason said, "we'll be living like it. It'll be safer."

"I'll follow you," Karen said, nodding timidly, "I really don't want to end up as a lab rat."

Mason pulled in front of a drug store and looked at Karen. He figured the car would be good for at least a few more minutes and he did not want to have to make a second trip out.

"Keep your eyes low," Mason said, "don't let anyone see your face. I'm going to go in and purchase some implements to keep us going."

"See if you can get food as well," Karen said, "I haven't eaten in what feels like forever."

"High on my list as well," Mason agreed.

Mason climbed out of the car and went into drug store. He did not want to share his unease with Karen, but he did not have much more of a clue what to do next either. He looked around the little local drug store and tried to clear his mind, keeping it on task.

He picked up packets of hair coloring, black for him and blonde for her. Thinking about it, he also picked up a set of hair clipping implements. He walked around the store and looked at various things, grabbing a large duffle bag and a few sets of sweat clothes.

"What am I forgetting?" Mason asked himself, "What am I going to need?"

He went over and put several male and female toiletries on the pile and dragged it up to the counter. The clerk looked at him and then shrugged as she started ringing everything up.

"Restocking a house?" the clerk asked him.

"Lost our luggage," Mason grunted, "been a bad week. Throw a carton of smokes on there too. The cheap ones over there, 100's, no menthol."

The clerk nodded and gave him the total. Mason peeled off a few bills of Entragian's money and paid for everything. He smiled a little and left the store, heading out towards the car. Karen looked at him from the car as he headed over there. He was about to open the door when he noticed Gabriel's vehicle pulling into the police station.

"What is it, Mason?" Karen asked him.

"The local cops," Mason said, "Benny Roeder is with them."

"Deal with it later," Karen told him, "we need to clean up."

Mason nodded and threw the stuff into the car. He parked it in an alley about a block down from the motel and took a minute to shove all of the stuff into the bag and make himself look a little more presentable.

"Why can't we park in front of the motel?" Karen asked him.

"This car is dirty," Mason explained, "after this, you and I won't be going near it again."

"How do I get to the Motel?"

"It's one of those outside room jobbies," Mason said, "I'll get one in the back. Go wait for me there."

"Want me to take the bag?" Karen asked him.

"No," Mason said, "take the money. I'll see you in a few."

Karen sighed and held on the case. She watched Mason walk towards the office and got out of the car. She was still feeling self-conscious and felt like everyone would be looking at her, but nobody seemed to notice as she walked from the alley to the back of the motel.

Mason was in his element as he walked around. He was used to renting motel rooms for strange people. He had actually considered renting one in town that final day, but decided that he and Alecia would be safer on the outskirts. It turned out to be his final mistake.

He opened the door to the office and saw an old man sitting behind the desk watching Jerry Springer on a 10-inch black and white television that probably dated back to Nixon's presidency. Mason scowled a little and went up to ring the bell.

"Yeah," the old man said, "what do you want?"

"Got any rooms open?" Mason asked him, "Preferably in the back away from the traffic noise."

"Heh," the old man said, "only person I have staying here is a goddamn army guy. You have any preference of the ones?"

"Just so long as it has a shower," Mason shrugged, "don't much care about anything else right now. I'll only be here a few days."

"It definitely has that," the old man told him, "forty dollars a night, thirty if you pay for a week in advance."

"I'll take that week," Mason agreed, "I've been moving around enough."

"Fair enough," the old man said, "that'll be $210."

Mason paid the man and the old guy got out his notebook. Mason was thinking about identities when the old man asked the fateful question.

"What's your name?" the old man asked him.

Mason thought about it for a bit and found himself coming blank. He'd always made it a habit to be prepared, but he hadn't had a chance. He looked around the room for a second before the old man said anything else.

"Your name?" the old man said, "State law, I can't rent without a name."

"Stone," Mason said finally, "Mason Stone. Sorry, was a bit distracted."

"Interesting name," the old man shrugged, "room six in the back. I doubt we'll get anyone else, so it'll probably be quiet."

"Thanks," Mason said, taking the keys, "I'll try not to make too much of a mess."

The old man ignored him and went back to watching the dregs of humanity on the Jerry Springer show. Mason walked out the door and went around to the back, finding Karen crouching with the case next to the soda machine.

"Real inconspicuous," Mason chuckled, "come on, we've got room six."

Mason unlocked the door and opened it, graciously allowing Karen into the room first. They looked at the little run down motel room and found it acceptable for the purpose, though Karen was a little concerned about the fact that there was only one bed. Mason dropped the bag down onto the bed and sat down in the one easy chair in the room.

"What now?" Karen asked him.

"In the bag," Mason told her, "there's hair coloring kits and a change of clothes that'll probably suit you more than those hand-me-downs."

"What are you going to do?" Karen asked him, "You look as strange as I do."

"Same thing," Mason smiled, "but I figured you would want first shower. I want to catch the local news anyway."

"Think we'll be on it?" Karen wondered as she pawed through the bag, "Or is it too soon?"

"I think the fire and bodies will be on," Mason told her, "I'm hoping that they'll release the names of the dead."

"You already know them," Karen said, flipping on the television for him, "Why does it matter if they announce them?"

"I'm hoping I'll be on the list," Mason grinned, "it'll save us a few problems later on."

"Great," Karen said, "I'll be in the bathroom if you need me."

Mason nodded and used the remote control to flip to the local television station. It was playing the same Jerry Springer show that the old man had been watching downstairs. Mason growled and muted the sound to wait for the news. He dug into the bag and pulled out the clippers and dark hair coloring.

While Karen showered and cleaned herself up, Mason went to the sink that was outside the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He looked a lot less tired than he felt. His eyes had none of the wrinkles he remembered. The only thing that looked half-familiar was the gray beard he had carried for a long time, and even that was starting to visibly show signs of black on it.

"I guess it's time to see what I look like," Mason sighed.

He opened up the hair clippers and used them to shave off the lion's share of the beard. He shaved quickly after that, making himself clean-shaven for the first time in over four years. He was very shocked at the results.

"Jesus," Mason said, sighing, "Blake wasn't kidding."

The face Mason was looking at in the mirror was his, but one he had not seen in over thirty years. It was in much better shape than he'd ever been when he was young, but it was still the same face. He could not believe the change in him. If it was not for the gray mop on his head he was sure he would look like he was 25 again.

"Let's finish it," Mason sighed and cracked open the hair coloring.

He removed his shirt and spent the next few minutes coloring his hair over the sink. When he was finished he dried his hair and combed out. He looked in the mirror and looked disheveled, but like a disheveled man in his mid twenties. He chuckled and put on one of the T-shirt's he bought, moving over to the television again and seeing a newscaster.

"Good," Mason said, listening to the water from Karen's extended shower, "Let's see if they can do something right."

He turned up the volume and fired up a cigarette, filling another urge he had had for days. He wanted food too, but he settled for smoke and information. The newscasters were out in force, showing the remains of the fire and reporting on it.

"Any identifications on the bodies found there yet?" The blonde newswoman asked.

"Positive identifications have been made on three doctors," the man said, "Nathan Blake, Michael Robinson and Brian Gordon. One of the other bodies, one decapitated by a shotgun is suspected to be James Entragian. Several other bodies were found, one of which was identified as Alecia Tracer, a missing federal witness. The others are still pending identification."

"Good," Mason said to himself, "Hopefully they'll release me soon."

Karen finished her shower and came out, looking surprised when she saw Mason. Mason was shocked as well, because even with wet hair and in a T-shirt and sweats she was very pretty. She was not a supermodel by any means, but she was a definite girl next-door type who had only been improved by the effects of the serum.

"I see you've been busy too," Karen said, "it did the same thing to you, huh?"

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "we look like a couple of average young adults."

"I've seen worse examples of manhood," Karen chuckled, "anything on the news?"

"Nothing about you or me," Mason said, "But they released Alecia's identity, so I'm betting they'll release mine as soon as they print my hand."

"You're a smoker huh?" Karen said.

"Have been for years," Mason nodded, "somehow I doubt it's going to be much of a factor now."

"Give me one?" Karen asked him.

"You too, eh?" Mason said, handing over the pack and the lighter.

"How do you think I got the cancer?" Karen grinned, lighting up and coughing a little, "God, it's been a while. So what do we do now?"

"I'm hungry," Mason said, "but I haven't really slept in several days. Mind if I get a few hours of sleep and we'll go get some dinner?"

"I'll hit the vending machine outside," Karen shrugged, "you take the bed now and we'll work out further arrangements later."

"Works for me," Mason nodded and moved over to the bed, putting out the cigarette, "Don't go too far. There's a military guy staying here, and I think it may be Strader. I don't think we want to meet him yet."

"Right," Karen nodded, "what name are we registered under in case I need it."

"Mason Stone," he chuckled, "best I could think of on short notice."

"Nice," Karen grinned as she walked out of the door, "real original."

Mason thought about worrying about her, but then his fatigue finally caught up with him. He was out in seconds, sleeping for the first time since he had woken up, several days before.

## Chapter 37: Belasko Motel, Room 2, Boland Creek, NY

Richard Strader looked around his little motel room and turned on the VCR. He was not sure if the tape would play, but he was hoping he could manage to get it to work. It looked relatively undamaged, but he did not know what kind of effect the heat would have had on it.

"Let's see what you were up to," Strader said as he put the tape in the machine, "and let's hope it's not as bad as I think it is."

He sighed and pressed play on the machine. For a few seconds he thought the tape was fried because it gave nothing but static, but then he realized that it probably was not rewound. He stopped it, hit the rewind button and let it rewind to the beginning.

When it finished rewinding Strader hit the play button again to be greeted by James Entragian's voice and an image of an unconscious naked man lying on a hospital bed, the same bed that was burned in the institution. The man looked ordinary, gray hair and beard, but when someone's arm exposed the body it looked more like the body of a twenty year old.

"The progress that the subject's body has made on the series has been remarkable," Entragian said on the tape, "the white cell count is out of this world and the cells are mutating."

"What about healing?" Elliot Sumner asked him, "How well does the flesh heal?"

"Watch this," Entragian said and his arms showed up in the picture with a scalpel, "you'll never believe it."

Strader was in shock when he saw what happened with the blade. Someone, most likely Sumner himself, focused in on the blade as it entered the flesh of the body. Usually when cuts like that happen, the flesh separates and blood escapes. In this case, the flesh healed around the blade as if nothing had happened.

"Jesus," Strader said as he watched, "this isn't fucking possible!"

The tape continued with Entragian making several more similar cuts into the flesh and even going so far as to cut a chunk out. The body regenerated almost immediately no matter what they did. Strader watched it and could not believe what he was seeing. He went right over to his bottle and poured himself a scotch. He knew he needed it.

"I don't know how you did it," Strader said, "but you just changed life as we know it."

The colonel downed the scotch and watched the rest of the videotape. It did not show anything about how the serum was made, but it showed in detail most of the effects it had. It was something that would bring soldiering into the next millennia. He put the glass down as the tape finished.

"Now what do I do?" Strader asked himself.

That was a big question for him. It was a morality thing on one hand. He did not know if anyone should have this type of power, although it seemed that it was already a foregone conclusion that it was out there. He knew that he wanted his country to get it before any other nation managed to get it.

Colonel Strader picked up the telephone receiver and put a device that he had been issued on it. He dialed a number and pressed a tone button on the side of the device, activating the scrambler security.

"Operations," a voice came over the line, "secure ID please?"

"Strader," the man said nervously, "Colonel Richard J. Special investigations division. I need to speak to either General Collard or General Moreland."

"I'm sorry sir," the voice said, "I cannot put you through without authorization."

"Then get authorization," Strader seethed, "if I don't speak to them soon, you'll be finding yourself kicked down two ranks."

"Let me see what I can do," the woman said.

Strader lit a cigarette and paced around as far as the cord on the phone would allow him to. It took nearly five minutes, but the next voice he heard was that of General Moreland. Strader had been hoping for Collard, but this would do.

"What is it Strader?" Moreland asked him, "You just pulled me out of a meeting."

"Have you watched the news today?" Strader asked him.

"Is this current events?" Moreland growled, "Get to the point."

"Entragian's place went up in smoke," Strader continued, "we found five bodies piled outside, most of his staff."

"Shit," Moreland sighed, "were you there?"

"The cops were about to raid the place," Strader said, "I followed them to make sure nothing sensitive got out. Place was a wreck when I got there."

"Fuck," Moreland said, "Make your report..."

"There's more," Strader said, "I salvaged a videotape. One that I think you're going to need to see."

"Why?" Moreland said, "Will it prove embarrassing?"

"It could," Strader told him, "it proves that Entragian's people were doing human testing."

"Goddamn it," Moreland said, "does anyone else know about this?"

"Not yet," Strader said, "But that's not the worst of it."

"What could be worse than that?" Moreland wondered, "Did he kill people?"

"I think Entragian himself is dead," Strader sighed, "but the shit he created isn't."

"What does it do?"

"Superman serum. Heals the human body like nobody's business."

"You're kidding," Moreland said, stunned, "That's impossible."

"The tape wasn't faked," Strader said, "I just need to know what to do next."

"Seal off that scene," Moreland said, "forget the rest of the investigations. Your job is to get that serum."

"I need people," Strader said, "people I can trust. This is too sensitive to get out."

"How many?" Moreland asked him, "I'll get to Collard and get the authorizations. This is about to go black."

"Get my son transferred to me," Strader said, "I also need a bump in rank."

"You're now the equivalent of a one star," Moreland said immediately, "your son will be out there soon. I take it you called in a security team?"

"They're on their way," Strader said, "but I need you to pull some strings and get the feds off my back."

"FBI?"

"They lost an agent and a witness," Strader said, "I think the Agent was the human test subject."

"That damned idiot," Moreland said, "what was he trying to prove?"

"I don't know yet," Strader said, "but I intend to find out. If anyone gets this formula, it has to be us."

"Who's leading the feds?"

"A kid by the name of Roeder. Evidently this was one of his agents. The local yokels have already ceded jurisdiction."

"Kick em out," Moreland said, "I'll have Adam transferred to you by the end of the day. I'll even throw in a promotion to Major for him so you can use him effectively."

"Works for me," Strader said, "I'm going to go check one thing out with the fed before they pull him."

"His agent?" Moreland asked, guessing.

"You got it," Strader said, "someone set the place on fire. The only body missing is Sumner, but I don't see him having the balls to do it alone. I think Roeder's agent is still alive."

"The man on the table?" Moreland agreed, "I want to see the tape."

"Have someone come and meet me here in Boland Creek," Strader said, "I'll send the tape back with him."

"I want a secure messenger for that, probably will take until morning," Moreland promised, "anything else?"

"Keep this black," Strader said, "I don't think any of us want this showing up on the news."

"Right," Moreland said and signed off the phone.

"Here we go," Strader said and poured another glass of scotch, "into the abyss."

## Chapter 38: Main Street, Boland Creek, NY

Karen knew she was not going to be able to sit in the room doing nothing while Mason slept, so she decided to go out and see what had changed. After dropping a few candy bars on the table she took a couple hundred dollars from the case and a pack of smokes from the carton and walked down the street in Boland Creek.

It was a different world to her, one she had not walked in for years. The cars were all different and the people were ones she did not know. Boland Creek was a small town, but even small towns change over time and this was a town that she did not really know anymore.

It was early afternoon and people were milling around, none of whom took any notice of Karen. Nobody recognized her and nobody even thought a thing about her. It was disconcerting for a woman who had once been fairly well known in the town before she got sick.

"Jesus," Karen said as she walked around, "I don't know anyone here anymore."

She saw that the beauty parlor that she used to go to every few weeks was still there and open, so she decided to see if there was anyone she knew in there. She opened the door, listening to the bad chime that had been there since Reagan was president.

"Hello," One of the women said, "come on in, we're slow today."

Karen only recognized one of the women, and this one was quite a bit older than she remembered. The memories were flooding back into her as she walked in and sat down. The last time she had been in here was for her fifty-first birthday, about six months before the disease really took hold on her.

"Looking to get your hair done?" the woman asked her.

"Yeah," Karen nodded, "looking for something that'll work well on me."

"Whoever did your hair before needs to be shot," one of the women said, "what's your name honey, I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"My name is Karen," she said, wondering if it would trigger anything.

"Nice to meet you," the woman said, "I'm Janis Rosenblum. We can give you a good rate on a full makeover if you want it."

"Sure," Karen sighed, realizing that they were not going to know her, "I guess I could use it, especially if you can do something about this mop of mine."

"I can promise you that, honey," Janis Rosenbaum agreed, "just lay back and we'll get you looking like a million bucks."

"Thanks," Karen smiled and leaned back in the chair, "it's been a while since I've had this done."

"It shows, honey," the woman agreed, "some of the split ends on here are horrible. You just dyed it today, didn't you?"

"Trying to get the color back right," Karen admitted, "Think you can fix it?"

"Only if I can do it right," Janis told her, "Might mean taking off at least six inches. I think I can make it a good shoulder length cut."

"Make me look pretty again," Karen smiled, "take off what you need to, but leave it as long as possible."

"I can do that," Janis nodded and started working with her hair, "so you got a last name, honey?"

"Stone," Karen said finally, "my name is Karen Stone."

## Chapter 39: Highway 90 Rest stop, near Plymouth, OH

Elise Steele rubbed her eyes as she waited for the coffee to be delivered to the table. She despised these little highway side restaurants, but she knew that she could not keep driving. It was running on thirty-six hours since she had slept last and it was starting to get to her.

"Here you go honey," the waitress said as she put down a cup, "your food will be out soon."

Elise nodded and managed to refrain from scowling. The past seven hours of driving were not pleasant ones. She did not much like Robert Kasta and felt no remorse at his death, but compared to Elliot Sumner he was a pleasant driving companion. If she was not being paid so much money to deliver him alive to Bolantine she would have taken some serious pleasure in taking Sumner apart piece by piece.

"Hey good looking," Elliot said as he returned from the bathroom, "how long are we stopping?"

"Long enough to get food and coffee," Elise said, "we'll drive until I get too tired to see straight then we'll find a motel."

"I like the sound of that," Elliot smiled, his eyes going wide behind his glasses.

"Dream on," Elise said, her dark eyes boring into him, "You'll sleep then we'll drive again."

"I can drive," Elliot protested.

"Not in my contract," Elise said, "I do the driving. I'd rather fly, but because of that clusterfuck back in Boland Creek I expect your face to hit the evening news at any time. So eat well now, you may not be leaving the car again after tonight."

"But..." Elliot started when she cut him off roughly.

"Shut up!" Elise said sharply, "If you want to get to Bolantine and get paid, you'll shut up and do what I tell you. Fuck with me and I'll just deliver the case and say you met a tragic end. Got me?"

"You wouldn't," Elliot said, gulping.

"Try me," Elise said, her black eyes showing that she was not kidding.

Elliot shrank into the seat a little, because he knew that this woman could tear him in half if she wanted to. She outsized him by at least seven inches, though he probably still had about thirty pounds on her. She was also in excellent shape, where he was a portly scientific type that spent most of his life in a lab. There was nothing else said until the food was delivered.

"Eat," Elise said, not even trying to smile at him, "As I said, it may be your last chance for anything other than fast food until we get to Seattle."

"Joy," Elliot sighed, wondering if he was going to survive this.

Elise knew that the probability of Elliot's survival was dropping by the day.

## Chapter 40: Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

"So who's working up the report on this mess?" Deputy Miller asked Chris Gabriel as she sat down on the county issue wooden chair, "Is it us or did they cut us out?"

"I ceded jurisdiction," Chris shrugged, "I'm not writing a report on it. The corpses will probably be bagged and sent back to a federal morgue."

"You sound broken hearted," Laura told him.

"Not at all," Chris grinned, "I'm rather glad to not have that in my lap anymore. I left that shit when I quit the FBI. I'll leave that horseshit to Benny and Colonel Strader."

"What happened up there though?" Laura wondered, "It's not like you to leave a mystery unsolved."

"One thing I learned in the feds," Chris told the curious deputy, "if the army and the feds are fighting over jurisdiction, run like hell."

"Who will win?" She asked him, wondering what his take was.

"Depends on if Strader wants anything from the site," Chris said as he flipped a page, "If he wants something, he'll get Benny recalled. If there's nothing left, he'll probably let Benny take it."

"Which are you hoping for though?" Laura said, "Which will be better?"

"It'll be bad regardless," Chris shrugged, "there are at least five corpses up there. I'll let the feds deal with the mess. Better than having us do it."

"Not going to be me that takes care of it," Benny Roeder growled as he walked into Gabriel's office uninvited, "I've been ordered to come back."

"Fuck," Chris said, "the military is taking it."

"You got it," Roeder said, "I have an hour to get my files from you and get on the road back to DC."

"They're making you drive?" Chris said, "Damn, Strader pulled some strings."

"No urgency anymore," Roeder shrugged, "the hand that was pulled out matched Trip Mason's fingerprints. They think his body is part of the rubble. They're having Tracer's corpse sent back to DC on ice. The others belong to the military."

"Which means they'll get put in the local cooler until someone cares," Chris grumbled, "Not great news. I wonder what those military idiots did this time?"

"Let me know if you find out," Roeder said, "I'm just stopping to let you know."

"I'm sure I'll be cut out soon too," Chris told him, "I probably already have been."

"Not that you care," Laura told him, "you're just happy to not have it on your desk."

"I'm not going to deny that," Chris agreed, "I left the FBI so I could stop dealing with that stuff. I've got a good gig going with my writing and I'm looking forward to going back to it when my term is over."

"And endorsing one of us, I'm sure," Laura grinned.

"Depends on how bad you piss me off," Chris chuckled, "anything that I need to know happening around here while I've been busy with this other stuff?"

"Declan put Roger into the drunk tank again last night," Laura shrugged, "Kris bailed him out this morning. Same old deal."

"Nothing new or exciting then," Chris nodded, "hopefully we've had our excitement for the month."

"Anyway," Benny Roeder said, holding out his hand, "It's been nice working with you again."

"Yeah," Chris nodded, "I'll call you if I hear anything."

"Thanks," Benny told him, "catch you on the flip side."

Chris watched as Benny left the room. He and Laura looked at each other and wondered if they would ever find out what really happened at the Entragian Research Clinic. Part of him really did want to know, the rest of him did not want to deal with it.

"I guess it's out of our hands now," Laura said, "what do we do?"

"Wait for the fallout," Chris told her, "now let's get this week's reports done."

A half hour and four reports later an opening door in the station interrupted Chris and Laura. Chris decided it was time to stand up and walk around, so he went out to see who was there. He was surprised to see Dr. Adrian Morse, the elected county medical examiner who doubled as the coroner. He looked nice and ragged, as if he had had a rough day.

"Rough day, Adrian?" Chris asked him.

"Fucking army pukes have taken over," Morse said, "they've taken half my coolers for the corpses they found up there."

"Figures," Chris shrugged, "doesn't surprise me. Did we get custody of any of the bodies?"

"The Tracer girl and the hand that belonged to that Mason guy go to the feds," Morse said, "the feds are taking that other jerk, Kasta, as well. As far as I know right now Entragian, Blake and Robinson are ours. The army wants the test corpses, said they are sending a truck. Probably get here sometime next week the way the feds move."

"So why are you here?" Laura asked him.

"To see if you wanted me to put up a fight on any of the corpses," Morse shrugged, "I didn't know if you wanted to cede everything to the Army without a fight."

"Don't give them anymore than they explicitly ask for," Chris said out of impulse, "the med school cadavers give them without a fight. Make them get orders for the others so we don't get stuck with explaining their whereabouts if the families show up."

"Fine by me," Morse said, "the army guy that came by was being an asshole anyway."

"Strader?" Chris asked him.

"That's him," Morse said, "said to let him know if anything happened with the bodies."

"What is he expecting?" Laura wondered, "Christ's resurrection?"

"If anything happens," Chris told the doctor, "call me, not him. I want to make sure that son of a bitch doesn't get away with a cover up on my watch. He may have control of the clinic, but he damn well doesn't get control of our morgue."

"You got it," Morse said, "I'm going to head back and get those bloody autopsies done so I can go get some sleep."

"Have fun," Laura said.

Morse gave Laura Miller an evil look and walked out of the station. Chris walked around a little bit and tried to keep his knee from becoming anymore stiff. Laura sat back and waited for her boss before continuing on the pile of paperwork.

"So what do we do now?" Laura asked him, "Watch the army guys fuck up?"

"We finish the reports," Chris shrugged, "what else can we do?"

Chris went back to the pile of paperwork on his desk, leaving Laura scowling as she picked up the stack on the floor and went back to the work. In an understaffed office there was always more paperwork than there were people to do it. Somehow, that fact did not do anything to make it easier.

## Chapter 41: Dean House, Boland Creek, NY

Karen walked down the street that she lived on for over a decade and marveled at how unfamiliar it felt to her. The houses were the same, but most of the cars were different and many of the people looked completely unfamiliar. She knew she was in the right place, but it did not feel quite as much like home as she expected.

The house she and her husband had purchased upon her early retirement was situated at a cul-de-sac on a standard suburban street, just a short walk from the small downtown area of Boland Creek. It was actually only three blocks from Chris Gabriel's place, but she had gone into a coma long before he moved to Boland Creek.

Karen avoided the main street area and went to the trail area behind the main house. Being midwinter the area back there was already dark. She walked through the snow and wished that Mason had thought to get her a better set of shoes. There was a rise just behind the house that gave a good vantage point over the whole place.

The house itself had not changed much, though her husband had finally gotten around to getting vinyl siding on the house. It was still the quiet piece of suburbia that they deemed necessary for their sanity after twenty years in the city. The neighborhood had not changed much outwardly, but it did not feel very much like home.

Karen thought about going closer when she saw a light turn on in the living room. She stopped and watched to see what was going on in the house. Thinking about it, she knew that both the kids would be gone, as her oldest was getting ready for college as she was starting to slip away.

It startled her to see just how badly Timothy Dean had aged in the years since she could remember him. What little remained of his hair was completely white and he had gained a bit of weight. He looked like one of the dirty old men that used to leer at her when she worked in the asylums.

"Damn Tim," Karen said as she watched, "what have you done to yourself?"

If Tim Dean had known he was being watched he did not show it. He continued talking to someone that she could not quite see in the house. Karen did not know what to do, so she continued watching him from her spot on the hill overlooking the place.

The conversation continued until her husband slid over on the love seat a little. She was surprised to see a woman come into the view and sit beside her husband. The woman was a bit younger, but it was definitely someone she recognized. As the woman sat down Karen recognized her as one of the women she had palled around with after moving to Boland Creek.

"Oh my god," Karen said, her eyes going wide, "Carla you little slut!"

It soon became apparent that this was more than a little get together for them. Within minutes Karen's husband and friend were kissing deeply on the couch. Karen could not believe what she was seeing. This was something she would expect to see in a bad movie, not on her own couch, a couch she had picked out for them a long time ago.

Before long Tim and Carla were going at it much harder, and clothes were being removed. Much as she tried to fight it, Karen soon started crying. The tears were wet against her skin and they enhanced the cold feeling she felt. She could not believe that she was continuing to watch what she was watching, but did not quite know what to do about it.

She watched and cried for what seemed an eternity until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Karen turned around quick to see Mason looking at her. He had a sympathetic look in his eyes and wiped a tear from her face. Looking down the hill and into the window he could see what had her so upset.

"Shhh," he said and put a finger to his lips, "that path take us out of here?"

Karen could only nod at him, tears still flowing from her eyes. Mason led her out of there and away from the house. She looked back once and knew it would be the last time she ever saw it. The two of them walked down the old path until they were out of sight of the house. He then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Karen.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled one out.

Mason nodded and lit it for her. He then took one and lit it for himself. He figured it best to walk a little and let her get it out. After about twenty minutes of walking they came to a bench and he brushed it off to sit down. The weather was cold, but still holding up pretty well.

"How did you know where to find me?" Karen asked him finally.

"The only Dean in the book," Mason said, "I had a suspicion that you'd try to go home again."

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" Karen said.

"Not like this," Mason told her, "I expected you to realize that you couldn't go back. I didn't expect you to have to watch your husband get it on with someone else."

"What do I do?" Karen asked him, "Where can I go? I don't even have a home to go to."

"Neither do I," Mason told her, "but I'm one up on you. I'd made my peace with that years ago. It was forced on you rather abruptly."

"Karen Dean is dead isn't she?" she asked him.

"Just as dead as Trip Mason was declared a few hours ago," Mason nodded, "but your life isn't over. From all indications it's just beginning."

"You sound like you're looking forward to this, Mason," Karen sighed, "I liked my life before."

"I can understand that," Mason nodded, tossing his cigarette out to sizzle away in the snow, "But it was over regardless, wasn't it?"

"I guess so," Karen sighed, "I can't really get pissed at him for moving on, can I?"

"You were dead, Karen," Mason reminded her, "maybe not completely snuffed yet, but you'd been down for years. What was he supposed to do? Sit there and jerk off at your memory?"

"No, but..." Karen said, sputtering a little, "Carla was one of my best friends."

"Would she have moved on him while you were around?" Mason asked her reasonably.

"No, she had her own problems..." Karen sighed as she remembered, "She was going through a bad divorce last time I talked to her, one of the last periods of lucidity I had."

"You know Tim better than I do," Mason said, "do you think he would have started sleeping with her if you were going to get better?"

"Of course not," Karen said, "it's just weird to be dead and alive at the same time, you know?"

"Believe me," Mason smiled, "I know exactly what you mean."

"You sure you want someone as flaky as me coming along with you?" Karen asked him, "I'll probably be more a problem than a help."

"I bet you can do more than you think you can," Mason told her, "now is there any good place to get some dinner around here?"

"There's an Italian place up on Main Street," Karen told him, "pretty good usually and they don't care how you dress."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Mason agreed, "why don't we go get some food and talk about what we're going to do next?"

Karen looked at Mason for a minute or two. She could not believe he cared that much, but she realized the position they were in. He could not afford to go to anyone else with this and did not want to go through it alone. She smiled a little and decided that she might as well see if he really was as nice as he seemed.

"I think that's a good idea," Karen said, "I'll follow you."

"We'll walk together," Mason said, offering his arm, "I've been a cop for most of my life. I prefer partners, not subordinates."

"And you were alone why?" Karen asked him as she took the arm.

"Because I've got a big mouth and I'm an asshole," Mason grinned, "you'll learn that if you stick with me long enough."

"Funny," Karen said, "let's get moving. I think I can use a good dinner at this point. If nothing else it will be warm."

They walked together quietly towards the restaurant when Mason realized that Karen had taken some time to get her hair done. He figured he would score some points with her by noticing.

"Very nice job on the hair," Mason said as they walked, "looks good on you."

"Thanks," Karen smiled, pleased that he noticed.

She smiled and thought that there might be hope for him yet.

## Chapter 42: Brenner's Restaurant, Boland Creek, NY

Mason and Karen went in and got a table in the restaurant. There was no wait as most of the dinner crowd was leaving and it was still a weeknight. They were the only ones who wanted the smoking section as well, so they were at least six tables away from anyone else by the time they were seated and had ordered their appetizers.

"What can I order?" Karen asked him.

"Whatever you like," Mason grinned, "Entragian is paying, remember?"

"True," Karen chuckled.

They ordered quickly and Mason lit a cigarette as they waited for the bread to be brought out to them. Since Mason was used to watching the lay of the land he took the chair with his back to the wall, allowing himself a view of all the patrons.

"So what's next?" Karen asked him, "Make contact?"

"As soon as I figure out which one to contact," Mason told her as he pointed towards the door, "speaking of the devil. That looks like the guy from the site this morning."

"Can we eat before you do this?" Karen asked him, "I'm still starving."

"Of course," Mason nodded, "I'm hungry too. Besides, I want to know more about him than he does me before we approach."

Chris Gabriel had just walked into the restaurant with his wife and Laura Miller. The three of them got a table in the non-smoking section. Mason knew he had seen Chris somewhere before, but did not quite know where. It did not click seeing him from up on top of the ridge earlier, but it was starting to click in the much closer range of the restaurant.

"I know him from somewhere," Mason told Karen as he studied Gabriel, "I can't place him to save my life, but I could swear I've met him before."

"I don't know him," Karen shrugged, "but I've been out of circulation for longer than you have too."

"It isn't from around here," Mason said, "I'd only been in town here for a couple days. Alecia and I had been heading slowly back to Seattle. It was just dumb fucking luck that they caught us here."

"I bet you wish you'd kept going that night," Karen chuckled.

"The verdict is not in yet," Mason chuckled, "Though for Alecia's sake, that would be true. Me, I was all but dead anyway."

"I meant to ask about that," Karen said, "You know more about me than I do about you. You don't seem to care too much about your previous life."

"I hadn't had one in years," Mason shrugged, "my family scattered years before when my son was killed."

"You were married?" Karen asked him.

"Legally was until my death was confirmed a few hours ago," Mason said, "last I knew Kelly was still living in an asylum down in North Carolina."

"Sounds like an interesting family," Karen grinned, "what was the diagnosis?"

"Paranoid something or other," Mason shrugged, "I don't know. She barely recognizes anyone and she goes completely nuts if I walk into the room. She also talks to herself a lot."

"Paranoid Schizophrenia," Karen said, remembering her old job, "If she loses it that badly when you enter the room something must have really pushed her hard over the edge."

"Being on the phone with your son when he's killed tends to do that to you," Mason told her, "how did you know that, anyway?"

"I used to make that diagnosis regularly," Karen chuckled, "I spent 20 years working at an asylum for the criminally insane."

"Psychiatrist?" Mason wondered.

"Criminal Psychologist," She corrected, "I sat on review boards and helped to make diagnosis calls. When the cops took people in for psychiatric review I was one of the people who would do it."

"You may be of more use than you thought," Mason smiled, "did you do criminal profiling?"

"Some," Karen nodded, "also spent a lot of time working with police officers."

"I think you and I may make a pretty good team," Mason told her, "especially if you remember a lot of your training."

"Enough about that," Karen said, "what about your son and your wife?"

"Kelly and I had a bad marriage from the start," Mason told her, relenting and telling the story, "It was the 1950's and she got pregnant. You know what that meant."

"A whole lot of fun," Karen nodded, "so you became a cop to make a decent living."

"I loved it," Mason continued, "still do, really. It was long hours, pay was passable. It kept Kelly and me out of each other's hair."

"Doesn't make much of a life though," Karen commented, "especially if you and she didn't love each other."

"By the time the kids were teenagers Kelly and I hated each other's guts," Mason confirmed, "I probably wasn't the best father around either. Eddie, our oldest, started going bad early. Drugs, petty theft, assault. He did it all."

"Fun," Karen said.

"Well, when he was 18 he left the house and moved in with some no-good friends. This same group of idiots decided to pull a nice bank robbery while they were exceedingly high on something or other."

"Drugs and criminals don't mix," Karen frowned, "I've seen too many examples of how drugs can mess up a mind."

Mason sighed and let his mind go back in time to the point where this happened. It was among one of the most painful memories he had. Karen watched him and nodded at the waiter to put the bread down while Mason paused.

"I was heading up the precursor of the swat team when this happened," Mason told her when he was ready to continue, "it was the lovely decade after Charlie Whitman's rampage in Texas. The robbery became a hostage situation and a rather ugly one at that. My team was called in."

"You were there to deal with your own son?" Karen exclaimed, "That's a conflict of interest if I've ever heard one."

"We didn't know it was him until the snipers got set up," Mason reminded her, "one of the snipers ID'd him after we'd set up and took over. I gave it to my second in command at that point and stationed myself over with the negotiator in case I was needed."

"So how did Kelly come to be talking to him on the phone?" Karen asked him as she bit into a piece of bread, "Did you bring her in?"

"He wouldn't talk to me so we decided to try Kelly," Mason sighed, "she was talking to him on the phone and trying to persuade him to come out. One of the hostages took that rather inopportune moment to move. Eddie shot the woman and the snipers took him."

"Damn," Karen said, "I bet she snapped like a twig when those shots went off."

"She never said a coherent word to me again," Mason confirmed, "last I knew she was still in the institution. My medical insurance has paid for it for years, which is why I never filed for divorce. I'm sure what's left of my estate will go to keep her going for the rest of her days. Especially the death benefit."

"I'm sure you really care," Karen grinned.

"Not really," Mason admitted, "I didn't leave much that I actually care to get back. I was never particularly materialistic."

"I would like to have gone back," Karen sighed, "but I've been gone too long. The world went on without me."

"Here's to us," Mason grinned, "nowhere to go but up."

"You got that right," Karen agreed, "should be an interesting ride."

They stopped talking for a bit as the food was delivered. It didn't take Mason long to dig into the large layered lasagna. Karen tried being delicate as she started eating her Fettuccini Alfredo, but hunger soon got the best of her as well and they were both eating with gusto.

Mason kept his eye on Chris Gabriel and continued trying to figure out where he knew the man from. It was not until he finished his lasagna and the waiter came back with a refill on his soda that he decided to ask to see if he could find out anything.

"Do you happen to know who the man with the two women over there is?" Mason asked the waiter, "He looks like someone I knew years ago, but I don't want to make an ass of myself if he isn't."

"That's the Sheriff, Chris Gabriel," the waiter told him, "he was elected last spring when he ran against that corrupt son of a bitch we'd had for the last 20 years."

"Gabriel," Mason said to himself then turned back to the waiter, "Thanks. Don't think it's him though."

"Anything else I can get for you sir?" the waiter asked him.

"Not right now," Mason said and then turned to Karen, "you?"

"I'm fine," Karen said.

The waiter nodded and walked away. As soon as the waiter was no longer looking at him, Mason looked at Chris Gabriel and remembered where he knew the man from.

"Damn," Mason said, "that's the kid Rael Gabriel took in."

"Speak English," Karen said, "who is Rael Gabriel?"

"Rael worked for me for the last ten years I worked in North Carolina," Mason told her, "he took over my job when I left too. When I got him he was working for a department in Maine. His last case there was the Jerry the Slasher mess. Remember that one back in the mid 80's?"

"Jerry Healy," Karen nodded, "I read a few case studies. A severe sociopath teenager, killed his family and about a dozen other people in about a week before his brother put him in the ground if I remember correctly."

"Right," Mason nodded, still looking at Chris, "Rael was the detective who put it together and saved the brother from the inept detective pursuing him."

"Ok," Karen said.

"Anyway," Mason continued, "he agreed to take the job on the condition that I back him if he made the push to get the kid out of it free and clear. Best deal I ever made, really. Because of that I had Rael working for me within two weeks because he had to get the kid out of the jurisdiction."

"Rael took in Jerry Healy's brother, in other words," Karen said.

"You got it," Mason agreed, "and that brother is the man who is sitting at the table not thirty feet from us."

"Did you know him?" Karen asked him.

"Not well," Mason shrugged, "I was one of Rael's friends, not his. But that makes me feel better about talking to him about this."

"That works," Karen said, "speaking of devils though, there's Strader coming in."

Mason and Karen watched as Strader had a few words with Chris Gabriel. The voices were kept low but the expressions on their faces told volumes. Mason knew for sure that Strader and the military were taking over at this point, because no local cop got the look that was showing on Chris Gabriel's face unless the feds or military were pissing in their pool.

"He's our man," Mason repeated after that display, "he doesn't like Strader and once we tell him what this shit does, we'll have a firm ally."

"You don't think he'll want this to get out?" Karen asked him.

"He'll imagine his brother getting something like this," Mason smiled, "he's perfect for the purpose."

"Are we going to talk to him tonight," Karen asked.

"I think we could use some rest," Mason told her, "we'll catch Gabriel at his office tomorrow. He'll be more inclined to talk to us there. I want to be well rested when we do this."

"No argument from me," Karen agreed, "shall we retire to the motel?"

"Let's," Mason smiled, "rest beckons."

The two of them walked out together, barely catching the notice of anyone on the way out, except for Chris Gabriel, who took a good professional look at them. He felt something strange from them, but wrote it off and went back to his own dinner, talking to both his wife and Laura Miller and enjoying the evening.

## Chapter 43: Gabriel House, Boland Creek, NY

"Need anything out of me tonight, dad?" Tommy asked Chris Gabriel.

"Go on to bed buddy," Chris said, giving his son a hug, "You have school tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "did my homework this afternoon."

"Good," Chris smiled, "keep up with it and it won't be so bad later on."

Tommy nodded and went off upstairs. Chris knew that he would probably spend the next hour listening to the new CD that Cookie Morris had sent him, but he figured that it was better for him to be learning from Cookie's music than on the streets.

"I can't wait for this kid to pop out," Carrie sighed as she waddled into the room, "whatever possessed me to have a third child?"

"I think it was blind lust on our part," Chris chuckled, "how are you feeling?"

"Probably better than you after your meeting with that asshole at the restaurant," Carrie chuckled, "he really doesn't have much in the way of people skills."

"Don't remind me," Chris grumbled, "Colonel Strader is going to become a major thorn in my side before long. I don't like it when the feds think they can walk all over the locals."

"I seem to remember you doing it to Jim Calysto to get Cookie out a few years back," Carrie grinned, "took a good bit of pleasure in it if I remember correctly."

"Yes," Chris conceded, "but that was Jim Calysto. He was just being a prick. I've been nothing but cooperative and he's pushing my people out while still using the county's facilities."

"The morgue, specifically," Carrie nodded, letting her husband rant.

"Exactly," Chris nodded, "he won't tell any of us what is going on and then he has Benny hastily recalled, despite the presence of a dead fed and his witness. It just doesn't make any sense."

"Are you sure you want to know what's going on?" Carrie asked him, "I mean if the army is clamping down like that there must be some really crazy stuff going on there."

"That's what worries me," Chris sighed, "I really don't need to get in the middle of a nice juicy scandal, and that sounds like what it's going to turn into. We should have put out an all points bulletin on Elliot Sumner when we first realized he wasn't in the building."

"No trace of him?" Carrie asked, "I know Elliot Sumner, the hospital contracted with Entragian's group a few times. He's a short squirrelly guy. He couldn't have killed that many people. I don't think he's physically strong enough."

"There were too many sets of tracks too," Chris nodded, "it's a strange situation. Something is wrong there and somehow Strader learned something I didn't."

"That's what is pissing you off," Carrie chuckled, "you aren't so much mad that he's pissing in your pool as you are that there's something he knows about the situation that you don't."

"Am I that transparent?" he wondered.

"Always have been, studmuffin," Carrie smiled, using a nickname she used for him when they were teenagers, "You never could stand not knowing. That's why you opted to join the feds, despite your background."

"Yeah," Chris agreed, "it just bugs me that this is unfolding around me and I'm supposed to be the one protecting this community."

"National security," Carrie said in a passable imitation of Strader, "we can't tell you in the interest of national security."

"Don't remind me," he grumbled, "I'm in bad enough humor about it as it is."

"I can think of something that will get both of us into a better mood," Carrie smiled, "Provided you can work around this..."

Chris smiled and went over to his wife and laid his head down against her stomach. Just like when she was pregnant with Jason, Chris could not get enough of this. It was something he had missed with Tommy, as he did not find out about Tommy until much later.

"I think we can work around that just fine my love," Chris told her and took her hand, "think the kids are asleep?"

"Jason has been asleep for hours," Carrie told him, "since Tommy got Cookie's care package yesterday I doubt he'll hear anything we do."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Chris said as he led her to the stairs, "I think I can forget about Strader if you can help me with it."

Carrie kissed him deeply and put a finger to his lips. They went upstairs and it was forgotten for the night.

## Chapter 44: Belasko Motel, Room 2, Boland Creek, NY

Richard Strader lit yet another cigarette as he watched the tape again. He had studied every piece of it over and over again and still couldn't believe what he was watching. He was almost in a trance watching the screen when he heard some knocking on the door.

He stood up and went over to the window to see Adam standing there in full uniform. He went over and opened up the door to let his very confused son into the room.

"What the hell is going on here, Dad?" Adam asked him, walking into the room, "I was in the middle of training today and suddenly I get pulled from my unit. I get orders to rent a car and drive out here to the middle of nowhere and report to you. This doesn't make any fucking sense."

"Come on in and watch something," Richard told his son, "it'll explain a hell of a lot better than I can."

"Are you on the sauce again?" Adam wondered.

"Stone cold sober," Richard said, "sit down and watch."

Adam looked at his father, but recognized the tone of the old Richard Strader in that statement. Richard went over to the VCR and rewound the tape again, starting it from the beginning. Adam watched in fascination and horror as Entragian and Sumner detailed the effects of the serum on Trip Mason's body.

"Jesus," Adam said as the tape wound down, "you're fucking kidding me, right?"

"I wish I was," Richard agreed, "Entragian and his idiots managed to get that serum working."

"Why did you get me here?" Adam asked him, "What the hell have we gotten into?"

"I wanted someone here I could trust," Richard told him, "I think you can see why."

"Where did you get this?" Adam wondered, "And what the hell happened to the clinic?"

Richard spent the next twenty minutes explaining what he had found and how they had gotten to this point. Adam was shocked that Entragian's crew had managed to get as far as they had without anyone finding out. The fact that his father had pieced it together was amazing to him.

"Jesus," Adam said finally, "so what do we do?"

"We've got pieces of the picture," Richard told him, "I think priority one is to get that formula in the hands of the pentagon. Someone is going to get it and if anyone does I think it should be us."

"I'm not sure anyone should have it," Adam said sourly, "but better us than someone else. Can you imagine if Iraq managed to get it?"

"I'd prefer not to," Richard told him, "the only body missing was Elliot Sumner. He's the one who probably holds the key to this."

"Agreed," Adam nodded, "who do you think burned the place?"

"I'm betting the guy in the video," Richard said, "we found a dead federal witness but only a part of the guy who was protecting her. The dead fed matches the description of the guy on the tape."

"I wonder what his agenda is?" Adam wondered as he sat back in his chair, "He's the real wild card in this mess."

"That's if he's mobile and sane, something we can't take for granted at this point."

"So you've taken over the investigation, right?" Adam asked his father.

"They pulled the fed out this afternoon," Richard nodded as he turned off the VCR, "The locals may still be a problem, but Chris Gabriel seemed to be willing enough to pull his people."

"This is unreal," Adam said again, "so what's the plan for tonight?"

"I think I'm going to get some sleep," Richard said, "we'll decide what to do in the morning. Did they give you any instructions about a messenger?"

"They told me to tell you that one would be sent out in the morning," Adam shrugged, "probably along with the containment team you requested."

"Thanks for believing in me," Richard told him, "I know I've let you down a lot the last few years."

"I'd say you're about to atone for your mistakes," Adam sighed, "let's just hope it doesn't blow up in our face."

"That's why you're here," Richard explained, "you are here to make sure I don't fuck this up. I don't trust my own judgment that much yet."

"How long have you been sober?"

"Most of the last few days," Richard told him, "I've only had enough each night to stave off the DT's."

"Better than nothing I guess," Adam sighed, "You're not drunk now?"

"No," Richard smiled, "I've been limiting to a drink right before sleeping. I may be a drunk, but I do know the steps for stopping safely."

"I can understand that," Adam said, "you start drinking other than that again and I'm gone. I'll work with you on this as long as you stay sober."

"Deal," Richard agreed, "this is too important for that anyway. This may be the most important project in either of our careers."

"Let's just hope it's not our last," Adam told him, "those bodies out there mean one thing. Whoever we're playing the game against is playing rough."

"That's your job tomorrow," Richard instructed his son, "there was an unidentified corpse. Find out who it was and who that person worked for."

"I can do that," Adam nodded, "but I have to sleep first. I'm wiped out from all the driving."

"You take the bed," Richard told him, "the couch is good enough for me."

Adam was too tired to argue. Within minutes he was sleeping. Richard tried to go to sleep, but found himself having problems. Before long he put in the tape and continued studying it, a pattern that he was going to follow for the rest of the night.

## Chapter 45: Belasko Motel, Room 6, Boland Creek, NY

Mason and Karen were sitting in the motel room together watching a bad movie on the pay television service. Mason was reclining in the room's single easy chair while Karen was sitting up on the bed. It was obvious that neither one were concentrating on the movie very much as they both had things on their minds.

Karen was still a bit uneasy about what was going to happen next with her life. She knew now that going back to what she had known was not an option. Mason did not have a problem with the fact that he could not go back, but he still did not know what was going to come next. He was even more uneasy with the power that their abilities gave them.

There was also an undeniable sexual tension between the two of them. The looks that kept passing between the two could easily have come from two people in a singles bar. Neither one was quite sure how far the other one wanted to take it at this point because it was all so new to them.

Mason knew Karen had to be hurting from what she had seen at her house earlier and he did not want to push things for that reason. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her mental state. He was hoping for a partnership that would last for a while because he knew that she was the only one who would ever understand what he was going through.

Karen was indeed hurting from since people had moved on with their lives while leaving her behind, but she was also seeing the rational side of things. She knew she had gone on while others had died before, so there was no reason to expect that her family would not have done the same.

"So where are you sleeping tonight?" Karen asked him finally.

"I'll take the chair here," Mason volunteered, "I slept quite a bit this afternoon."

Karen nodded and sighed a little. She looked over at him and studied him a little. The transformation had made him into a rather attractive man, and she had always liked dark hair on men. His posture had improved as well, so his six foot two inch frame towered over her five foot seven inches.

Mason lit another cigarette and tried not to get too self-conscious at Karen's glances. He was much in the same boat, as she looked as good to him as he did to her. The stylist had fixed the mop of hair and cut it evenly around her shoulders, a style that always made him take notice of a woman. He just did not want to push her too far too fast.

Karen was not sure if he was reticent about talking to her or if he was just plain shy. She was never the most outgoing person in the world either, but knowing what little she did about him she thought that he may have been trying to go back into his shell. She decided to try a philosophical discussion to see if it would get him talking a little.

"What do you think the significance of this is?" Karen asked him.

"Of what?" Mason said, "Of our being here?"

"Of our still being alive," Karen shrugged, "do you think its proof there's a higher being or that the world is just a mess."

"I think it's probably proof that there isn't a higher being," Mason grinned, "if there was a higher being I don't think it would have approved of us becoming the way we are."

"Do you think this will wear off and we'll die eventually?"

"I don't know," Mason said honestly, "Blake said it altered our genetic structure. Just how robust a change it is, I can't even begin to guess. Considering the fact that you and I should be grandparents by now and look like we're our own grandchildren, you can make your own guesses."

"I think you and I may be together for a while," Karen agreed and then smiled at him, "something I don't think will be that unpleasant."

"I'm sure Kelly would disagree with you on that," Mason chuckled, "so would most of the people that had to spend a long time with me."

"You and I have been together all day," Karen reminded him, "and in a very stressful situation. I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You came through for me when I needed you."

"Someone had to," Mason shrugged.

"You didn't have to be that nice about it," Karen reminded him, "I know it was stupid to go back there, but I had to know."

"You had a life you actually wanted to go back to," he reminded her, "that's something I would have given a lot to have. Every time I thought I was just about there, something would go wrong again."

"So you haven't been lucky," Karen smiled, "maybe your luck has changed for the better."

"How do you see that?" Mason asked her, cocking his eyebrow quizzically, "How could this be better?"

"More freedom," Karen told him and looked into his eyes, "and the company may not be too bad."

"I've found the company pretty nice so far," Mason admitted.

They looked at each other and it was a race to see which one of them was going to break down and ask first. Mason wanted to, but knew that she was the one who had gone through the most emotional trauma that day. If she was not ready to make a push, he certainly was not going to do it. She finally realized that if she wanted company she would have to make that first step.

"You don't have to sleep on the chair if you don't want to," Karen told him, "I don't mind sharing."

"Are you sure?" Mason wondered.

"I don't want to be alone," Karen said, looking into his eyes, "I'm alive and it's a feeling I haven't had in years."

"I can understand that," Mason nodded, "I'm just not used to anyone actually wanting my company."

"I do want your company," Karen smiled at him, "but I want it over here."

Mason stood up and kicked off the second hand boots before sitting down next to Karen on the bed. Karen offered her hand, which he took, pulling her closer to him. She curled into his side, fitting very comfortably next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and they watched the end of the bad movie.

"This is much more comfortable," Karen told him as she bit her lip a little, "Don't you agree?"

"Much," Mason agreed.

Mason liked having her that close, since he felt an undeniable pull towards her. Her earlier words about his luck changing for the better were resonating with him. He desperately wanted that piece of happiness. It was just ironic that he had to die to find it.

"Karen," Mason said as his hand brushed down her shoulder.

"Shhhh," Karen told him as she moved up and brushed his nose with hers, "no more words tonight. Those can come later."

Mason agreed and kissed her. It started slow at first, much like two teenagers feeling out their first kiss. A little nibbling of the lips, a few darting touches. It was all part of the process of getting to know each other. Before long they were kissing much deeper, their eyes telling the story as they paused to look at each other.

Once the walls dropped between them everything started to break loose. The clothing was quickly removed and tossed aside. Despite the long break from this for both of them, they quickly remembered the skills that help make you a better lover. When Mason entered her they both learned that regained youth did not hurt either one of them in this department.

After all they had gone through the needed each other badly and it showed. They made love ferociously until they collapsed together spent on the bed. They then laid there together, holding tight and pushing out the world. Their first experience together was eye opening for both of them.

"I've never experienced anything like this before," Karen said breathlessly as they relaxed together, "it's like you became a part of me."

"Effect of the serum maybe?" Mason wondered, as he had never gotten a compliment like that before.

"Either that or natural chemistry between us," Karen smiled, "do you honestly care at this point?"

"Not really," Mason admitted, "whatever it is, I'll take it. And you."

"You have me," Karen told him, "just don't let go."

"That's one thing I can agree to," Mason agreed, "we'll worry about anything else in the morning."

"I just hope the morning doesn't come too soon..."

## Chapter 46: Belasko Motel, Room 2, Boland Creek, NY

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Adam Strader asked his father, "You look like hell."

"About as good as I do any night," Richard shrugged as he looked at his mug in the mirror, "I don't think I've had a decent night's sleep since Reagan was president."

"Scary thought," Adam nodded, "I'm sure that videotape didn't help much either."

"What do you think after reflecting with some sleep?" Richard asked him, "Are you as scared by it as I am?"

"More so, probably," Adam agreed, "but we need to make sure that no one else gets it, that means us getting it."

"I agree," Richard nodded, "that's why I wanted you here, to keep me focused."

"Right," Adam nodded, "is the investigative team here yet?"

"They were due this morning, probably will be there by the time I get there."

"I'm going to go join them," Adam told his father, "how much authority do I have there?"

"You speak for me and I'm the equivalent of a one star as far as this is concerned," Richard smiled, "so what I want you to do is ride herd on the investigators right now. I'm going to attack it from the other angle."

"Try to figure out what Mason is up to?" Adam said, remembering the night before, "You think he's alive and sane, don't you?"

"I've been thinking about it," Richard said as he grabbed his cigarettes, "Sumner may have been responsible for some of the deaths, but he sure as hell didn't lay out the bodies. The only way that part of the equation makes sense is if Mason is alive and sane."

"It would get him identified as dead," Adam said, "I'm assuming we didn't get his body yesterday?"

"One hand," Richard said, "It was identified yesterday afternoon. Normally that's more than enough..."

"But throwing that video into the mix," Adam shuddered, "Jesus H. Christ."

"That's not your problem right now," Richard said, "your problem is to figure out where Sumner is heading to. I'll handle Mason, as he may become the consolation prize."

"You figure our legitimate scientists can study him and learn what Entragian did," Adam nodded, "sounds like a plan. Is that restaurant across the way any good?"

"Not bad," Richard admitted, "I've got to stay here until the messenger shows up from DC. They want the tape."

"Not surprising," Adam grinned, "I'm sure they're salivating. Moreland must be, considering the strings he pulled to get me out here so damn quick."

"All the more reason to get this going," Richard told his son, "go eat and get up there. Call me if you need anything."

"I will," Adam nodded and walked out the door.

Richard sat down on the bed and viewed the tape again, still fixated on what it represented. He wanted to get as many viewings in as he could before the messenger showed up and it left his possession. He still felt the clue was there, he just didn't know what it was. He wondered if he would ever know.

## Chapter 47: Main Street, Boland Creek, NY

Mason lit a cigarette while waiting for Karen outside of the motel room. She was still clad in poorly fitting sweat clothes, but the hair difference made her simply look like a college student that was dressing down for errands. She looked at him as she pushed her hair back and smiled.

"What now?" Karen asked him, "Go retrieve the car?"

"Car is too hot," Mason said, "this room probably will be before long as well, but I don't want to have to carry everything."

"So we hoof it?"

"It's not far to the Sheriff's station, is it?" Mason asked her as she knew the area better.

"Two blocks," Karen shrugged, "seems like a jog now."

"Still feels strange," Mason agreed, "even the cigarettes don't slow me down. I used to wheeze in the morning. Even after all the exercise you and I got last night and my first cigarette I feel pretty good."

"It's nice in a way," Karen told him, "but that point scares me."

"Which is why we need to find Sumner," Mason said, "we won't be able to do that until we get some help."

"It's this way," Karen told him as they started walking, "what type of help? I still don't get what you intend to do."

"You and I are on the outside looking in," Mason explained, tossing his cigarette into a nearby drain, "We're also playing catch-up ball. I know who some of the players are, but not enough of them. Chris Gabriel can make inquiries that you and I can't. I'm betting that he and Benny have already identified the son of a bitch that I killed when we started."

"You think he works for whoever Entragian created the stuff for," Karen nodded, "good guess, but how will we know?"

"I'm not sure yet," Mason shrugged, "but I'd rather have an ally, and I think Chris Gabriel is the best of the choices because I don't think he'd want this shit to get out anymore than you or I do."

"Only one way to find out," Karen told him, pointing at the nearby station, "How do you intend to make the approach?"

"In style," Mason said and walked up the stairs, holding the door open for her.

"You're too much," Karen chuckled, "nice and chivalrous too."

"Only for the right lady," Mason told her.

The only person in the front of the office was Lorene Pittman, sitting in her usual receptionist chair. She looked at the strange pair standing in front of her desk. They were a strange contrast, with Mason standing at a full six inches over Karen. He was dressed a bit better than she was, but they still made a strange sight.

"Is the sheriff in?" Mason asked her.

"Still putting down his first cup of coffee," Lorene said, "how can I help you?"

"I don't think you can," Mason said, "I think the sheriff will want to talk to me, though."

"Regarding?" she asked.

"A little fire in the woods," Mason told her, "he'll know what it means."

"What is your name, sir?" Lorene asked, "He'll want to know who is here."

"It won't mean anything to him," Mason said, "but my name is Mason Stone."

Lorene thought about it for a moment and decided that she did not want to have to deal with this man. The black jacket made him look dangerous, which was part of the point as far as Mason was concerned. He considered lighting another cigarette, but figured that would be going a bit too far. She retreated into the back room.

Mason smiled at Karen, who merely shook her head and tried to hold the chuckle inside. She found Mason's attitude quite humorous and wondered if this was going to do them any good at all.

"Was that necessary?" Karen asked him.

"We'll find out," Mason shrugged, "I'm betting it'll get his attention."

"What do you do for an encore?" she teased,"Scare kids?"

"Only when they are crying," Mason smiled.

Chris Gabriel had been having a good morning and enjoying his coffee before Lorene came in to tell him about the hoodlum in the front asking for him. Chris stood up and sighed, knowing Lorene's propensity for exaggeration. He stood up and walked out of the office to come face to face with Mason.

"Can I help you?" Chris asked Mason, taking note of how young he looked.

"The three of us need to have a conversation about some bodies you found outside of the Entragian research clinic," Mason told him, "and about several more that should have been there."

"What do you have to do with it?" Chris asked him.

"I laid them outside for you before I torched the place," Mason said evenly, "I figured you may want to know why."

Chris looked at the man in front of him, trying to decide what he was up to. There was an air of familiarity about him, but Chris didn't detect the hostility that Lorene did. Chris has been in this business a long time and realized that this man would not be coming here admitting to something if he did not have a reason to do it.

"Interesting," Chris said, "so why are you here?"

"I think we should have this conversation in your office," Mason said, "Just the three of us."

"Should I get Declan and the others?" Lorene asked her boss quietly.

"Not yet," Chris told her, "I think I should hear what Mr. Stone has to say."

"Good choice, Chris," Mason smiled.

Chris led the Mason and Karen into the office where they took seats across the desk. Chris walked over to his desk and sat back down, wondering where to begin. He looked at the motley pair and decided that he would let them start.

"You're the one who sought me out," Chris told them, "what do you want?"

"Information," Mason said, "I want to know the identities of some of the bodies."

"Why should I give it to you?" Chris asked him reasonably, "You walk in off the street and confess to the biggest crime we've had in years and expect me to give you information? I don't think so."

"Rael did train you well," Mason smiled, "though after the way you took care of that mess with your brother, I doubt he had to do much. You and Rael are a lot alike."

"What the fuck?" Chris said, blinking rapidly at Mason, "How the hell did you know that?"

"I know a lot of things that I probably shouldn't," Mason conceded, hoping that Gabriel would make the connection, "I'm the one who set up the judge to get your name change processed quickly and quietly."

"Son of a bitch," Chris said, making the necessary connection, "It can't be. For one thing, you're not old enough to be Trip Mason. For another, Trip Mason died in that..."

"That's what I intended," Mason smiled, "as you can see, I don't much look like my old self. It would have led to complications. That's why I laid out Alecia's body. I was hoping that the identification would come through on me."

"But we have your hand in the morgue," Chris told him, "You have both. You can't be him."

"Shall I give him a demonstration?" Mason asked Karen.

"Just so long as you do it on yourself and not me," Karen said.

"Demonstration?" Chris asked, perplexed at how this man could know things that there was no way he was old enough to be part of.

"That's a nice letter opener," Mason said as he eyed Chris's desk, "may I borrow it for a couple minutes?"

"Sure," Chris said, wondering what Mason was going to do.

Mason picked up the letter opener, which was little but a combat knife that Rael had gotten in the army years before. He picked it up and checked it out, making sure that the blade was solid and clean. He was certain it would do the job but he just was not particularly looking forward to doing it.

"Here goes," Mason said, watching Karen roll her eyes at the display.

"Get it over with," Karen told him, "Don't dramatize it for him. It's not that spectacular."

Chris looked at them quizzically and Mason chuckled. Mason then laid his left arm down on the desk and held the opener in his right hand. Before Chris could tell what he was up to Mason gripped the opener tightly with the blade pointing down, raised it up and slammed it point first into his left arm.

"Jesus!" Chris exclaimed.

"Watch," Mason grunted through the pain, "watch my arm!"

"I'd suggest you listen to him," Karen said, "he's not going to do it again 'cause it hurts like hell."

Chris shuddered and watched in fascination. There was no blood dripping from the wound, as it had healed nicely around the knife. Mason moved the knife through the flesh of his arm and Chris Gabriel was nearly in shock as the wound healed itself almost magically as Mason continued moving the blade of the opener through the flesh.

"Holy shit," Chris said, "what the fuck?"

Mason pulled the letter opener out and handed it over to Chris. There was still some blood on the opener, but Mason's arm showed no sign of the inflicted injury. The only thing that showed anything at all was the grimace on his face as the pain from it faded out.

"How the hell did you do that?" Chris said, "There has to be some sort of trick to it."

"It's the result of something that lunatic Entragian created up there," Mason said, "I'm sure it's the reason Strader is here. I was the first test subject for the serum."

"Who's she?" Chris asked, "What does she have to do with it?"

"I was the second test subject," Karen said, "I tolerate pain less than he does, but if you do the same thing to me you'd have the same results."

"Karen and I started the fire to make sure this shit wouldn't get out," Mason explained.

"Karen?" Chris said, taking a good look at her, "You wouldn't happen to be Karen Dean, would you?"

"I was," Karen smiled, "although I don't think I am anymore, if you know what I mean."

"Neither of us can go back to our old lives," Mason said, "surely you realize that."

"Holy shit," Chris said, standing up and rubbing his temples, "Why did you choose me to tell this to?"

"It was either you or Benny," Mason said, "Strader will want this for the military. Benny might have been able to see reason, but I haven't seen him today. You, on the other hand, probably carry some of the good sense that Rael would have taught you. Also, with your history and your brother you'll see how dangerous this is."

"Are there any more in your situation?" Chris asked him.

"Not that we know of yet," Mason said, "I'm going to try to keep it that way."

"Did you kill all those people?"

"I just killed one," Mason smiled, "and that son of a bitch shot me first. He's the reason I'm in this mess."

"Robert Kasta," Chris said, "hitter for the Bolantine organization. We surmised that's who got you, but we couldn't prove it."

"Bolantine," Mason said, "that makes sense. He's the one Alecia worked for. I should have guessed that already."

"So who killed the others?" Chris asked them.

"I killed Entragian," Karen smiled, proud of that fact, "He was about to shoot Mason again. I'd just woken up and wasn't particularly thrilled with the son of a bitch at the moment."

"I'd say the crazy bitch with the black hair killed Robinson," Mason said, "Kasta didn't have a chance. Entragian had the balls, but was dead himself. Sumner I doubt could have physically managed it."

"What crazy bitch with black hair?" Chris said, "There was someone else there?"

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "she's the one who got Sumner out of there and took off my hand with a .357 magnum."

"That explains a lot," Chris said, "Blake killed himself, didn't he?"

"After he explained to us what Entragian did," Mason nodded, "he couldn't live with it and he didn't want to be able to be forced to give up the serum."

"So Strader doesn't have the formula?" Chris asked him.

"No way," Karen said, "Mason and I tore that place apart before he torched it. The only evidence left is with Sumner, which is why we need to find him."

"Strader exited with a videotape," Chris said, "he took over soon after that. That's why Benny isn't here, he was recalled yesterday."

"I thought we destroyed the tapes?" Karen said to Mason.

"Shit," Mason said, "did you check the machine?"

"No," Karen said, her head dropping, "He got the one in the machine."

"If it's any consolation he's still chomping at the bit out there," Chris said, "so I'm betting that whatever that tape had it didn't say how to make it."

"The fact that he knows the effects is bad enough," Mason said, "means he'll be pursuing us."

"Want me to see if he'll let me in?" Chris asked him.

"I doubt he will," Mason said, "I wouldn't if I was him. He's got the upper hand in this."

"That leaves us back where we started," Chris said, "why did you come to see me?"

"The identities, for one thing," Mason smiled, "I wanted to know what you had. That gives me a direction to go in."

"You're planning on going after him, I take it," Chris nodded, "I can't be a part of that, you know."

"I don't want you to be," Mason said, "just make sure they don't decide to declare me alive."

"What about me," Karen asked them, "the Entragian mess is cut off from you, but have you officially connected me to it?"

"You?" Chris asked her, "Not officially. I'd suspected it was a lab rat situation, but we never had any proof."

"Were any of the unidentified bodies burned beyond recognition?" Mason asked him, an idea forming in his mind, "Especially female ones?"

"I'm sure," Chris shrugged, "We'd have to go to the morgue..."

All three of them looked at the door as Declan Collins rushed in. Declan looked around the room and saw that his boss was all right. He'd received a worried phone call from Lorene and rushed back to make sure that everything was all right.

"Everything all right boss?" Declan asked him, looking at the two people sitting in front of the desk, "Lorene sounded worried when she called me."

"No problem at all, Declan," Chris told him, "This is..."

Chris paused and tried to think of how to explain them. Mason and Karen looked at each other and shrugged. Mason decided to take the lead in this and let Chris off the hook a little. He was used to giving bullshit stories as part of running people around the country. He'd been everything from a salesman to a traveling retiree.

"I'm Colonel Stone," Mason said as he rose and offered his hand, "I guess Karen and I didn't make all that tactful an entrance."

"Right," Declan Collins said, puzzled but taking the offered hand, "Are you one of Strader's people?"

"No," Mason said honestly, "I'm actually no longer on active duty. Been doing freelance work for years."

"Bounty hunter?" Collins asked, spurring Mason on.

"You got it," Mason smiled and lied through his teeth, "I look for reward cases. Was trying to find out more about that mess up the way, but it turns out there's little work there."

"I may have something for him on the Dean case though," Chris said, "did you ever get a hold of Tim Dean?"

"Yeah," Collins said with a look of distaste, "didn't look like he cared much, but that he wanted her found alive so he could keep cashing her retirement checks."

Karen looked up and was about to stand up when Mason put his hand down firmly on her shoulder as a sign to keep quiet. Mason looked at Collins and let him continue.

"He didn't have anything of use to add though," Collins shrugged.

"Colonel Stone is going to look into this a bit more," Chris said, "we're understaffed and his credentials are good. We even worked for a few of the same people, just on different sides of the fence."

"Who's she?" Declan asked, referring to Karen.

"Karen Stone," Karen said, offering a hand and speaking through clenched teeth, "I'm Mason's partner."

"And a bit more," Mason agreed, "she and I come as a team."

"I don't have time to deal with it," Chris informed him, "I'm still bogged down with the mess up at Entragian's place."

"Right," Collins nodded, not caring too much, "I probably should get back out on patrol. I just came back because Lorene called."

"Nothing to worry about, Declan," Chris assured him, "I'll let you know if there's anything we need to deal with."

Declan Collins departed, much to Mason and Karen's collective relief. Chris looked at Mason and shook his head. Karen was still seething a bit from the news that Tim was more concerned about her retirement checks than he was about her.

"That son of a bitch..." Karen started and then regained some control, "I'll tell you one thing, what little regret I had about last night just went out the window."

"Last night?" Chris asked them.

"Don't ask," Mason grinned, "thanks for backing me, though."

"You're as good as Rael said you were," Chris chuckled, "nice save for Declan too. Why were you asking about the bodies in the morgue?"

"Karen isn't connected to it yet," Mason said, "but what if she was?"

"How so?" Karen asked him, "I'm not dead."

"Yes," Mason smiled, "but if her body is found among the dead at Entragian's place Chris has legitimate local cause to look for Sumner."

"Strader may not like it," Chris said, nodding, "But at this point he's pissed me off enough that I don't care. He doesn't have any jurisdiction on me either."

"He'll probably just order you to give him any information," Karen smiled, "which we can get around and alter if necessary."

"Doesn't matter if he finds out," Mason shrugged, "just so long as we get there first and take care of Sumner."

"I don't want to know what you have planned, do I?" Chris asked him.

"You've been on your own against the odds," Mason reminded Chris, "you do what you have to."

"So what's the next step?"

"The morgue," Mason said, "let's see if we can get Karen identified. Will the attendant play ball?"

"Adrian will play ball," Chris said, "especially when I tell him why. We will have to tell him, there's no way around that. He's pissed at Strader too though. He had to spend a shitload of time on those autopsies."

"Just so long as he keeps it quiet," Mason warned.

"So the plan is we get one of the corpses ID'd as me," Karen said, "then what?"

"We do a two layer plan," Mason said, "Chris takes the legal high road and puts out a national bulletin for Sumner. I don't expect him to surface that easily, but it's possible."

"Not if that woman is riding herd on him," Karen said, "if she's still involved Sumner is probably going to stay underground."

"That leads us to our part of the plan," Mason said, "we know they're going to head for Seattle, but they don't know about us at all."

"Bolantine?" Chris asked him, "You think he's going to Bolantine?"

"That explains the hitters," Mason reminded them, "Bolantine is very old. I'm betting he bankrolled this lunacy."

"We need to procure transportation first," Karen reminded him, "you abandoned our only car."

"I know it," Mason sighed, "I miss the conversion van. It made things so much easier not having to deal with motel rooms all the time."

"I have it," Chris told them, "in our impound lot. Benny hadn't had a chance to make arrangements for it before they recalled him."

"You're kidding?" Mason said, "Strader did have him pulled quickly. What condition is it in?"

"Aside from being pawed through by CSI it's fine," Chris said, "can you cover it though?"

"Sure," Mason nodded, relieved at not having to buy a new vehicle, "Did that work already."

"If someone asks about it I'll just tell them it was stolen," Chris shrugged, "I doubt anyone will care much."

"Let's get moving," Karen said, "Every minute we waste..."

"She's right," Mason said, "let's go talk to this coroner of your."

## Chapter 48: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

Alvin Christie walked around his room and looked at the rough man sitting across from him. He was not sure what to make of what was going on, but he was certain that he did not like it. He had been scheming behind the boss's back way too long to allow this serum to be used on him.

"Do you think this stuff is for real?" Rocky Barnes asked Alvin, "It sounds like something out of a bad movie."

"Bolantine is going senile, but he's not stupid," Alvin said, "regardless, we can't take the risk. If this even prolongs his life it'll be too much."

"Maybe we should just do the old man and get it over with," Rocky shrugged.

"We do that now and the whole organization collapses," Alvin reminded him, "he needs to die peacefully."

"So what did you bring me here for?" Rocky wondered, "I'm a hitter, remember? I don't do so well just waiting around."

"I'm going to try to consolidate the landscape," Christie told the hood, "we can't even take a risk that this shit works. I want you to find that idiotic doctor and Pena's psychotic bitch."

"That could be difficult," Rocky temporized, "especially if they're flying in. I don't think I can get a team together that fast."

"They'll be driving," Alvin smiled, "I was listening in when Elise called in. Too dangerous to fly because they'll be looking for the doctor soon. Sounds like one of them is dead already."

"So a woman and a geek, eh?" Rocky shrugged, "Easy enough. You want me to take them out."

"Dead as a doornail," Alvin smiled, "just as a precaution, you understand. We'll all be better off if she's dead though."

"It's going to take some money," Rocky said, "this will be a major operation."

"I didn't figure you worked for free," Alvin shrugged and handed him an envelope, "that should get you started. I don't have to tell you what we stand to gain if we win."

"The full Bolantine Empire could be nice," Rocky said, "I'll let you lead though. I don't want to deal with it."

"Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be rewarded," Alvin promised, "Just don't get caught. If Bolantine figures out what we're doing, we're both dead."

"You got it," Rocky nodded and left the room.

Alvin looked at the door for a few minutes and then sat down to try to plan what to do next. He had some ideas, but it was going to take some quick maneuvering in order to get it done.

## Chapter 49: Boland Creek County Morgue, Boland Creek, NY

Adrian Morse could not believe what he had just been told. Mason and Karen Stone stood there looking at him as he came to grips with what he had just learned. Chris watched impassively, waiting for Adrian's questions to start in earnest. Mason lit a cigarette, studiously ignoring the no smoking sign above his head.

"So you're dead," Morse said, "you certainly don't show it very well."

"Night of the living dead," Mason chuckled, "if you think it's weird from where you are standing, try it from in my shoes."

"I'll pass," Morse said dryly, "what I don't get is why you are telling me this."

"Because you're the only one who can declare me dead," Karen told him, "we were hoping one of the burned cadavers would fit the bill."

"Two of them are female," Morse admitted, "not enough to really identify unless you had other evidence."

"Cancer is detectable," Mason said, "I'm sure the hospital has already passed off the dental casts to you."

"Sure," Morse agreed, "but I can't make them match."

"All you have to do is sign off on it, Adrian," Chris told him, "I'm the one who makes the other identification signature. She's declared dead, cause of death undetectable due to the fire. Since she was kidnapped its murder even if they didn't do anything to cause it."

"So you want me to fake the autopsy," Adrian Morse said, frowning at the idea, "That'll never hold up in court, especially if the defense tries to dispute it."

"There will never be a trial," Mason said, "the feds will scoop him up if things go that far wrong."

"So what the hell do you want to declare her dead for?" Adrian asked them, confused.

"Two reasons," Mason shrugged, "one, I don't want anyone to get the idea she is still out here. Two, It'll let Chris put out an APB for Sumner for her death, giving us a way to track the son of a bitch."

"And three it will stop Tim from living the high life on my retirement," Karen said, a satisfied smile on her lips, "I like that idea myself."

"All right," Adrian said, acquiescing to their demands, "Let's go into the cold room."

Mason, Karen and Chris were all surprised to see how many corpses were stacked up outside of the freezer. Boland Creek County did not often get more than two corpses at a time, and even then they rarely stayed at the morgue for a day or so. The twenty some odd corpses removed from Entragian's place well overcame the ten coolers that the county had had installed in the mid 1970's.

"I guess we have overpowered you a bit, eh?" Mason said as he looked around.

"I haven't seen this many cadavers since I was in medical school," Morse grumbled, "I'll be doing autopsies for the rest of the week."

"You can get away with cursory exams on most of them," Mason told him, "most of them were medical supply cadavers."

"Still doesn't make disposal any easier," Morse said, "is the county paying for burial?"

"Run them through the crematory at the mortuary," Chris suggested, "Jake has five outstanding tickets that I'm sure he'll give you time on the crematory in return for getting dropped."

"I'll remember that," Morse said, "the ones that are burned the worst are in the coolers."

"I'd think there'd be less to preserve," Karen said, knowing the least about corpses.

"Smell factor, doll," Morse grinned, "the charred flesh smells terrible."

"Right," Karen said, not liking the condescending look.

"So who were you about to work on?" Mason asked him as they opened the first box on the cooler.

"Entragian," Morse told them, "he's on the litter that the young lady is leaning against."

Karen growled a little and then turned around to see that Entragian's arm had flopped out beside her. Not used to being around corpses she jumped when it touched her.

"What the hell?" Karen said and reached down to put the arm back on the table.

Karen was surprised as she touched the hand. She was expecting it to be cold and clammy, but it felt warm. Way too warm for a corpse. She did not usually deal with corpses, but she had been around them a few times before.

"You looking to become a necrophiliac, Karen?" Mason asked her, "You're playing a lot with that hand."

"The hand is too warm to be dead," Karen said, "mind if I uncover the body?"

"Sure," Morse shrugged.

Mason trusted Karen's judgment and went over to look at the body with her. Karen pulled back the sheet and looked at the body of the man who was responsible for her and Mason's predicament. Both were surprised at what they saw.

"You saw him," Karen said, "I did blow his head off with a shotgun, right?"

"Yes," Mason nodded, not liking what he was seeing, "You most certainly did."

"What?" Chris asked them.

"Then would you please explain to me how he has a head?" Karen asked Mason.

"He's breathing too," Mason sighed, "he had a bottle of the damn serum in his pocket. It must have dosed him before the body completely died."

"You're kidding me," Chris said and then came over to look, "holy shit."

James Entragian was no longer the headless wonder he'd been when Karen had effectively decapitated him over a day earlier. He was lying there on the slab still, but he was breathing and had a brand new head. There was no sign of hair growth on it yet, but he looked like a much younger version of the man that Mason had seen tormenting him through the bars of the cell.

"What do we do with him?" Chris asked them.

"That man was dead when I got him," Adrian protested, "I would never have pronounced otherwise."

"Did you file the paperwork on him yet?" Chris asked Adrian.

"Yesterday afternoon," Adrian nodded, "I filed for all of them I had identities for, gives me more time to do the autopsies."

"Good," Mason said, "you've completed your autopsy on him. He died of a massive gunshot wound to the head. Is there any family?"

"None that I could find," Chris said, shaking his head, "Body goes to the state."

"Good," Mason said, "there's no way we're letting him come back, especially with Strader out there looking for us. Let's run him and the others through the cremation chamber. That way there's no evidence."

"Can we do that, Chris?" Adrian asked him.

"Given the alternative?" Chris asked him, "Hell yes. Let's do it before Strader and his people show up. We're locals. We can claim ignorance. If he wanted the bodies, he should have told us."

"Let's go deal with it," Mason said, "before he wakes up. Call your man and let's get this started."

## Chapter 50: Entragian Medical Research Center, Boland Creek, NY

Richard and Adam Strader walked around watching the military investigative team rifle through the remains of the institution. Richard lit a cigarette and sat down in a chair that had managed to survive the fire Mason had started without being damaged too badly.

"We're missing something here," Adam said, "they couldn't have been this thorough."

"He didn't do this on military orders," Richard said, "nobody would have the balls to order research like this in this day and age. He also didn't report these results to us. I have his last reports."

"I talked to the search people," Adam said, "they haven't found all that much about the research. Whoever set that fire knew what they were trying to destroy."

"The messenger had the files I asked for," Richard said, looking at his son, "I still think that Mason is our wild card."

"Someone was definitely trapped back there," Adam said, "probably while you were investigating."

"If it wasn't a military project," Richard said, "who was funding him?"

"Misappropriating our funds?" Adam asked his father.

"This place cost more than we paid him," Richard said, "that's something that should have been looked into when the initial disbursements were made to him."

"They didn't have but a few hours," Adam said, "you and the cops were here within twelve hours. The bodies were dead for less than that when you found them, right?"

"Something like that," Richard said, "let's go rifle the office some more then?"

Entragian's office was pretty well cleaned out, as Karen had made sure to dump the drawers into the burgeoning fire. Adam let his father look over the remains of that room while he went into what had once been Elliot Sumner's office.

Adam poked through the messy desk, finding very little of use. Like most scientists Elliot's office was just a receptacle for all the junk he did not want to deal with. Most of his papers had been in the labs, which were destroyed completely in the fire. Adam did find some interesting documents hidden in the bottom drawer of the desk.

"Motherfucker," Adam said as he continued to look over the documents, "that would explain a lot."

"What's that, Adam?" Richard asked him, walking into the room, "Entragian's office was cleaned out."

"You said that one of the bodies was identified by the FBI guy as a hitter for an outfit in Seattle, right?"

"Yeah," Richard nodded, "worked for a guy named Bolantine. Probably the main suspect for killing the fed."

"He was also bankrolling the operation," Adam told his father, showing him the ledger book, "Doesn't tell us shit about the research itself, but it might give us a lead on where Sumner is going."

"You're better at this sort of thing than I am," Richard admitted, "you stay here with the search team see if you can pull anything out of this mess. I'm going to go look for some more information on Bolantine. Might be making a trip to Seattle myself."

"Where are the bodies?" Adam asked him.

"Local morgue," Richard informed him, "only place with the facilities."

"You let the locals have those bodies?" Adam asked him, aghast at the thought, "We need to get those back and quick."

"See to it," Richard said, "finish up here and have the investigative team take custody."

"You got it, Dad," Adam nodded, "going to do some research?"

"I think so," Richard nodded, "call my cell if you find anything."

## Chapter 51: Boland Creek Crematorium, Boland Creek, NY

"How long has he been in there?" Karen asked, sitting down on a wooden chair, "Surely he should be ash by now!"

"Usually takes about ten minutes a body," Adrian Morse told her, "he's been in there about thirty now."

"Shut it down," Mason said, "let's look at the motherfucker."

"The instrument is saying that there's still solid stuff in there," Morse told him, "he's not cooked through yet."

"Hit the emergency switch," Mason instructed, "let's find out how much is left."

Morse nodded and hit the red switch that was on the outside of the machine. Mason opened the door they had loaded Entragian's body into and was shocked to find that the flesh did not even look charred.

"You're fucking kidding me," Mason said as his jaw dropped, "How hot is this thing?"

"More than enough to nuke a body," Adrian said, "how much is left?"

"He isn't even singed," Mason said, still not believing it, "His fucking clothes are gone, but his flesh is still there."

"Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live forever? Is it less strange, that thou shouldst live at all? This is a miracle and that no more," Chris said, remembering a quote he heard years ago, "Jesus Christ."

"What do we do with him, Mason?" Karen asked him, "What do we do with us?"

Mason had no words for her. He pulled out a cigarette and flipped it around his fingers before lighting it. Then deciding to be brave he flicked the Zippo open and held his right hand over it. His worst fears were confirmed, not only did they regenerate like mad they were immune to fire too.

"We might really be immortal, Karen," Mason said, "and that fact scares the hell out of me."

Karen looked at him and held her own hand over the flames, shocked to find that it did not even hurt. She could tell it was warm, but it did not even begin burning. It was not even unpleasant. She bowed her head and sighed. Mason flipped off the lighter and sat down.

"We could bury him," Chris said, "I doubt he'll last forever."

"We can't take that risk," Mason said, "I don't want Strader's boys to find him."

"You know," Karen said, thinking it through, "He may not be the same Entragian we knew anymore."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked her, "He looks the same to me."

"Explain," Mason told her.

"We all know the rot about souls and the like," Karen said, "but the memories and the person are stored in the brain. His brain was destroyed by the shotgun blast."

"So you're saying he may wake up and be a child," Mason said, "no motor skills or memories."

"That's one possibility," Karen admitted, "there's another school of thought that the geneticists have been playing with. That's the idea that the basic memory migrates from the brain into the genetic code."

"I've heard of that," Morse said, "it started as an explanation on why Alzheimer's patients can't remember what they did this morning, but can remember inconsequential events that took place thirty years before."

"And a reason why most of them can still talk, just can't do things that require short term memory," Karen added.

"If that's true," Mason said, "then he'd still be Entragian."

"It could also be just raw data," Karen said, "much like reading a computer disk without the proper decoding program."

"At any rate," Chris shrugged, "there's a chance he may not be the same person at all. If that's the case, you may want to let him wake up and find out."

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Mason sighed, "and that means we need to get out of town, pronto."

Chris's cell phone started ringing. He sighed and opened it up, speaking a few words and then sighed.

"Fuck," Chris said, "Adam Strader just called the station for directions to the morgue. He's looking for the bodies."

"Let's get them all cremated," Mason suggested, "right now."

"I'm going to go out on patrol," Chris said, nodding at Adrian, "Go ahead and cremate the bodies. If anyone asks you just followed protocol for unclaimed bodies and trying to clean out your cooler for the necessary ones. I'll make sure my phone malfunctions for a couple hours so you have to wait a bit to get my sign-off."

"Right," Adrian agreed, "can I get one of you to help me load the suckers? It'll go faster?"

"Karen?" Mason asked her, "You do that and I'll go get the van?"

"Make it quick," Karen said, "If he's seen that tape then he knows it's likely at least one of us is still around, if not both of us."

"Where's the van?" Mason asked Chris.

"Parked over in the lot behind Roddy's garage," Chris said, "only mechanic in town. He's been doubling for impound for years to get the contract for towing. Only happens once every couple months, but it's easy money for him."

"Got it," Mason nodded, "let's go."

Mason and Chris left Karen and Adrian to their gruesome work. Chris drove him over to the impound lot, where the van had been left for over a week. Mason smiled as he saw the large white vehicle. He was glad to be able to get the van back as it would save him a lot of time in outfitting a new one.

"How do you plan on avoiding having someone track it?" Chris asked him.

Mason grinned at Chris and just held up a finger. Chris watched as Mason reached underneath the chassis and pulled out a magnetic case. He punched in the code on the secure case and popped out a set of keys. Mason then unlocked the back doors and opened them.

"They really made a mess in here," Mason said as he surveyed the van, "I wonder how thorough they were at searching it."

Chris was about to ask what he meant when Mason popped a panel on that back door. He pulled out a wrapped package and unwrapped it on the edge of the bed. Chris Gabriel saw the set of plates and was astonished.

"Jesus," Chris said, "how many of those sets do you have?"

"Four," Mason said, "nobody except a computer guy I know has any clue they exist. They're all clean and come up with a phony name that checks clean."

"You're a pro all right," Chris said, nodding appreciatively, "What do you do about the VIN?"

"Watch," Mason said and pulled a pin pack out of the packet, "simple job, really."

Mason went to the front and used the packet to pull the vehicle's identification number out and replace it with the new falsified one. He knew it would come up clean and tie to someone who did not exist, just like the others. He then pulled the electric screwdriver out and pulled off the old plates, depositing them back into the holder slot for safekeeping. He knew he would dispose of them later.

## Chapter 52: Motel Six, Highway 94, Exit 159, Bismarck, ND

Elise Steele looked like hell when she pulled the car into the parking lot at the Bismarck Motel Six. She usually hated the places, but she knew that if she kept driving any longer she was going to get into an accident and get them both killed. The fact that she had been able to go for nearly two days was a testament to her iron constitution. Most people would have long since given out.

"What are we doing here?" Sumner asked her, "Where are we anyway?"

"I'm going to get some sleep," Elise growled, restraining the ever-growing urge to kill Sumner, "We've probably got another 24 hours or so of driving and I don't feel like getting killed on the road."

"You paying?" Elliot said, cognizant that he had left the money at the clinic.

"Yes," Elise said, the circles under her eyes making her look even more sinister, "Now if you don't shut up I'm going to tie you up and put you in the fucking trunk."

Elliot shut up then and cringed a little. He, like most other men, was physically attracted to Elise, but the fear was quickly beginning to overcome that factor. He followed meekly behind her and watched surprised as she bought a single room, albeit one with two beds.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until we get to Bolantine," Elise told him after they were out of earshot, the venom showing in her tired eyes, "Now let's get up there and get some sleep."

Sumner gulped audibly, scared by what he had gotten himself in to. He had been all for the plan when James Entragian had come up with it so many years ago, it had sounded so simple then. Now James was dead and he had to pay the price.

Elise opened the door and found the room to be dark and empty, much like every motel room she had been through in the past years. She had a special hatred for motel rooms dating from her short stint as a prostitute (and uncaught serial murderer) in LA years before.

Elliot went into the room and was directed over to the far bed by Elise. The first thing that Elise did was dial the clean number she had for Bolantine. She grumbled when it took four rings for Alvin Christie to answer the line. She wanted nothing more than to get some sleep.

"Bolantine's office," Christie's voice said.

"Elise Steele here," she told him, "we're in a shithole motel in North Dakota. Probably be another day or so before we get there."

"Keep your boy undercover," Christie told her, "we got word a few minutes ago that the local authorities in Boland Creek have put out a national APB on him."

"Shit," Elise swore, "just what I need. It's going to take a bit more time then because I can't speed anymore."

"Take a rest," Alvin said, "and we want reports on your trip."

"We'll be leaving Bismarck tomorrow," Elise told him, "I want to dump this shrimp in your hands and collect my money."

"Just so long as you call in anytime you stop," Alvin said, "you coming across I94?"

"No point in detouring," Elise said, "if they had my plates I would have been pulled already."

"What are you driving, so I can let the gate guard know?" Alvin asked her.

"Black Mercedes," Elise told him, realizing how stupid the question was, "You won't have any trouble recognizing me. How many tall women do you get with short, fat, geeky doctors?"

"Good point," Alvin agreed, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Elise grunted as she put down the phone. She withdrew her weapon from the specially cut holster and quickly cleaned and reloaded it, something she always did before sleeping in a motel. She turned on the safety and laid back on the bed closest to the door.

"I am a very light sleeper," Elise told him, "I also sleep with a weapon in my hand, so if you have it in your head to try anything you won't live long enough to enjoy it."

Elliot nodded and sat down in the bed. He was thoroughly frightened by the darkly beautiful woman and started contemplating the deal that had gotten this started, nearly a decade in the past. How abstract it had been to him at that point, take an aging criminal's money to work on a project that they had been playing with anyway.

Elise was out like a light, but the way she was positioned on the bed left no doubt in Elliot's mind that she could move in the slightest moment. He readjusted his glasses and quietly opened his case. The four IV's of golden amber liquid, the only remaining examples of FTU-237, were his only possession. They were also very valuable to Bolantine.

Luckily, he knew that he was the only person left living with the necessary knowledge to create more of the serum. All he had to do was survive and give Bolantine what he wanted and he figured he stood a good shot at surviving. He just wished he could give James Entragian a good solid kick in the balls for getting him into this in the first place.

## Chapter 53: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

"Elise Steele and company are in Bismarck," Alvin Christie told Rocky Barnes, "Think you can get there before she leaves tomorrow?"

"Shouldn't be a big problem," Barnes shrugged, "Jake and I should be able to get out there before she leaves again. Do you have any contacts out there?"

"I'll make a few calls," Alvin said, "someone must know a place to go out there. I'll see about getting you a car. I'm sure you can manage something to kill the bitch. It's just a woman and a little geek."

"Can you arrange for a charter plane?" Rocky asked him, "We'll have more of a lead time if we can get out there in a few hours."

"Bolantine's plane will be warming up with a falsified flight plan by the time you get to the tarmac," Christie promised, "if anyone asks you're there to do a deal for Bolantine."

"I take it you want them both erased?" Rocky said.

"Erase them both and make sure that whatever the shit is that Sumner is carrying is lost in the process."

"What if it works?" Rocky wondered.

"If you want to risk it, then take it yourself," Christie shrugged, "I've nearly got control of the upper echelons. I have no interest risking my life on an untested and unproven serum."

"Right," Rocky chuckled, "Bolantine has really lost it hasn't he? Spending millions on that snake oil."

"He's old," Christie smiled, "he's entitled to a little insanity. And we're entitled to replace his wrinkly ass."

"Works for me," Rocky agreed, "I'm sure we'll do well."

"Get moving," Christie instructed the bruiser, "see if you can end this stupidity in Bismarck."

## Chapter 54: Boland Creek Sheriff's Office, Boland Creek, NY

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Adam Strader asked Chris Gabriel, "First you give the authorization to cremate the bodies and then you put out a nationwide APB on Elliot Sumner? Are you trying to screw up our investigation?"

"The bodies were a health hazard," Chris said, a slight smile forming, "In case you hadn't noticed this is a small county with less people total than you have in one wing of that Pentagon of yours. We have ten coolers and you shipped us over twenty bodies. I ordered the cadavers cremated in order to keep them from rotting in our morgue."

"Those were our cadavers!" Adam Strader protested.

"Major Strader," Chris said patiently, "if you wanted them you should have taken them somewhere instead of sticking them in my custody and leaving them here."

"Fine," Adam said, thoroughly annoyed, "But what in the hell possessed you to put that APB out?"

"Related case," Chris said and slipped a folder over to Strader, "Karen Dean was a cancer patient that was expertly kidnapped from the oncology ward at the hospital last week. One of the corpses that you handed over to us was hers. We'd like to talk to him about that."

"You should have cleared that with my father," Adam told Chris.

"I don't answer to you," Chris said simply, getting insulted, "I answer only to the voters of Boland Creek County. That's a state and local issue and frankly I don't give much of a shit if it bothers you or not."

"You're the one who ceded jurisdiction," Adam Strader reminded the local lawman, "you had no right to deal with any of it."

"I never once ceded jurisdiction to Karen Dean's abduction," Chris said, sitting up straight in his chair, "Now do you have anything civil or reasonable to ask me or are you here to whine about things that have already been done?"

"Do you have records on when Entragian's clinic came into existence?" Strader asked him, gripping the edge of the chair to keep from losing what was left of his cool.

"I don't have anything like that," Chris told him honestly, "he never did anything illegal that I knew about until the past month or so. The county planner might have some records. They should be open until five."

"Why are you making this difficult?" Strader asked him, "This is a national security issue and you're acting like a speed bump."

"Because I don't see the urgency," Chris said, "not to mention you and your father have been royal pains in my ass. Local does not mean dumb and it also doesn't mean that I'm going to bend to any whim you have. I have a job of my own to do and if the way I do it doesn't meet your approval then move here and vote against me in the next election."

Adam Strader knew he was not going to get very far. The damage was done and there was nothing he could do change it. He found it odd that Chris Gabriel was so hostile, so he made a note to have a file pulled on the man as he left.

Chris Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief when Adam Strader left the building. He stood up and opened the closet door, letting Mason Stone out into the room. Mason was shaking his head and smiling at Gabriel.

"Good job," Mason said, "you held him off well."

"His father has already pissed me off," Chris said, "though I wasn't expecting another one. Not like the military to use father and son teams."

"I'm betting that the elder one is trying to keep it close," Mason said, "some people feel that blood is the best security."

"You don't seem to agree with that sentiment," Chris said dryly.

"I've got one kid who died stupid killing a hostage," Mason shrugged, "the other one is facing fraud charges in three states. Frankly I'd rather have a better screening process than just DNA."

"I'd say we were just in time getting rid of those corpses," Chris nodded, "what do you plan to do next?"

"Bolantine," Mason told him, "having Kasta show up there like that couldn't have been a coincidence. Either he is behind what is going on or he knows who is."

"What are you going to do with Entragian?"

"Let him wake up on the way," Mason shrugged, "what else can we do? If he's the same son of a bitch that did this to us we can always incapacitate him again and drop him down a mine shaft somewhere on the way."

"How do I contact you?" Chris asked him.

"Call this cell phone," Mason said, scribbling a number down on a pad, "You'll get voice mail, but I'll check it once a day. Maybe more if we're driving. I don't leave it on so we can't be tracked by it."

"Right," Chris nodded, "I'd suggest getting out of here while the getting is good. I'll back you as much as I can, but I can't do too much with those assholes breathing down my neck."

"Don't stick your neck out," Mason smiled, "it's not your fight. You've got a wife and kids. Just keep them off my back for a bit and I'll be happy."

"Count on it," Chris said, holding out a hand, "Good luck, Mason."

"I'll need it," Mason agreed, "especially since all of my identification doesn't fit me anymore. I'll have to invest in some new ones before long, but hopefully that'll wait a bit."

"Drive carefully," Chris said, "hopefully Strader won't decide to put out an APB on you."

"Not likely," he replied,"Strader doesn't want me to start talking about what I know."

Mason smiled and flashed a quick salute as he slipped out the door and headed to the van that he had parked two lots away. Karen looked out the door at him and he flashed her a smile. She opened the door for him and slid to the passenger's seat.

"I hope you don't mind," Karen said, "I did a little cleaning up. I figured that I shouldn't put that dumpster to waste."

"Not a problem," Mason shrugged, "how's our friend?"

"Handcuffed to the glide bar in the back," Karen smiled, "he's in REM sleep still and isn't moving a lick."

"You're the psych person," Mason told her, "what do you think?"

"I think he's going to wake up," Karen said, "whether he'll be coherent at that point or not I don't know."

"Well," Mason said, "let's get out of Boland Creek at any rate. I don't want to have to risk getting caught by either of the Straders."

"Either of them?" Karen asked him, puzzled, "There's more than one?"

"Like father, like son," Mason told her, "even assholes replicate. The good Colonel knows what he's after and probably wanted someone he knew he could trust."

"So where to?" Karen asked him as he started the van's powerful engine.

"West," Mason shrugged, "our destination is Seattle, unless Gabriel calls with something else."

"Who's in Seattle?" Karen asked him, "Bolantine?"

"You got it," Mason nodded, "I don't know what else to do so we'll go with the only thing we do know."

"So the big adventure starts?" Karen smiled as she leaned back in the comfortable bucket seat, "Leaving Boland Creek, never to return?"

"Never say never," Mason smiled, "we may be around for a while. Who knows where we'll end up?"

Karen nodded and watched as the signs for the next county passed. It was the first time she had left Boland Creek since she got sick, and it felt good to her. She stretched in the comfortable seat, looking over at Mason and feeling pretty good about the future. She was not sure where it was going to lead her, but for the first time in years she felt as if she had one.

## Chapter 55: Belasko Motel, Room 2, Boland Creek, NY

"I thought you were off dealing with bodies," Richard Strader said to his son when he found the young man pouring over a laptop, "nothing to find there?"

"Doing some research on Sheriff Gabriel," Adam told his father without looking up, "trying to figure out why he's so hostile to us."

"Did you find anything with the bodies?" Richard asked again, "Gabriel is a local. I'm not worried about him."

"You should be," Adam said, continuing to read, "The man has a very colorful past. Makes me wonder why he would order the cadavers cremated."

"He did what?" Richard said, doing a double take, "What the hell was he thinking?"

"We shouldn't have let him take custody," Adam said, "he gave me a lame excuse about public health and limited cooler space."

"Why don't you buy it?" Richard wondered.

"This guy was a fed," Adam said, reading some more, "Several years with the FBI, four of them in the psychological crimes unit. He specialized in serial killer cases until his first novel hit."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Richard wondered.

"Those bodies were evidence," Adam explained, "given the fact that he's an expert on crime scenes, he should have been livid about giving up evidence. I have a suspicion that he knows what is going on."

"You think Mason got to him?" Richard pondered.

"Very likely," Adam agreed, "especially given Gabriel's past."

"Anything unusual?" Richard asked.

"His brother was a spree killer," Adam told him, "killed over a dozen people in the span of a week back in '85. Chris was the one who brought him down, nearly getting himself killed in the process. He was all of fifteen when he did this."

"I remember that," Richard said, "you were still in grade school then. Chris Gabriel was the brother?"

"Got taken in by one of the investigating officers," Adam nodded, still reading, "And Tripton Mason was Rael Gabriel's employer after he went south."

"It's no use trying to break Gabriel," Richard sighed, "the damage is done and if Mason has talked to him then he can break this wide open and make the army look really bad."

"Did you find anything on Bolantine?" Adam asked him.

"Enough to know I need to catch a plane to Seattle to find out more," Richard said, "he's been around for decades and is old enough to have wanted to bankroll something like this. He's one of the few survivors of the old school gangsters."

"God help us if he gets this first," Adam said, suddenly very scared, "We need to get this wrapped up quickly."

"Mason has the jump on us too," Richard sighed, "he has more inside information than we do, and he had access to the formula before he torched the place."

"The question is what side does he lie on?" Adam wondered, "Is he trying to destroy the formula or corner it?"

"Could be either one," Richard admitted, "given his background, my guess is the former. The one thing we don't know is if it warped his mind."

"I don't know," Adam shrugged, "what's the plan?"

"Your job is to finish the cleanup here," Richard instructed his son, "have them recover anything possible from the wreckage. Keep me updated if you find anything else that ties Bolantine to them."

"Be careful," Adam warned, "Sumner may not be much, but all indications are that Bolantine is one serious dude. Don't go it alone. We can back you up."

"I'll call for you if I need you," Richard smiled, "now get back to your research."

"Thanks," Adam scowled, "when do you fly out?"

"I have to be in Albany in three hours. The room is paid for. Just drop the keys at the office before you go."

Adam watched his father go out the door and then went back to his reading, finding the file on Chris Gabriel to be very interesting reading. He just hoped that he would not need most of what he was reading. If he did, it was going to be a bumpy road indeed.

## Chapter 56: Bismarck Airport, Bismarck, ND

Rocky Barnes walked off the plane and growled as he looked at Bismarck, North Dakota. It was a rather plain city and it was cold as hell. He looked at his partner, Jake, and they both decided immediately that they would make Alvin Christie pay for sending them to this frozen hell.

"Where to now?" Jake asked his partner.

"There should be a car waiting for us at the terminal," Rocky said, "Alvin got in contact with someone out here."

The dissatisfaction they were feeling was intensified when they saw the piece of shit car that was left for them. It was right were Alvin told them it would be, but neither one of them were expecting to see a nearly twenty year old AMC Gremlin sitting there.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Barnes exclaimed, "How the hell are we supposed to whack someone driving a Mercedes in a piece of shit like this?"

"I swear I'm going to kick Alvin in the nuts," Jake said, "why are we doing his bidding anyway?"

"Gotta choose sides," Barnes shrugged and went over to the car, "who do you want to support, a senile SOB like Bolantine or the young up and comer?"

"How bout we kill them both and take over?" Jake asked hopefully as he crammed his six foot four inch frame into the Gremlin, "Probably could shove this damn car up his ass too."

"It'll do," Rocky grunted, "all we need to do is get in position to kill the bitch."

"At least the weapons are good," Jake commented as he pulled out the AK-47, "probably worth more than the car."

"Just so long as it runs," Rocky said, "how many clips?"

"Enough," Jake said, "enough to riddle a Mercedes, that's for sure."

"Good," Rocky said, "now let's get moving."

"Anything to get out of this piece of shit," Jake grumbled, "did Alvin say where she was?"

" Motel in Bismarck," Rocky told him, "since she's driving, most likely it's one of the ones just off of Highway 94."

"How do you know that?"

"Alvin said that Elise hadn't slept in two days," Rocky smiled, "pray she's tired enough to make a mistake. If she isn't, this is going to be messy."

"Do you know where you're going?"

"To a gas station," Rocky grunted, "need to get a map and some food."

"Great," Jake said, "we're never going to find the bitch."

"We'd better," Rocky told him, "otherwise there's going to be hell to pay."

## Chapter 57: Motel Six, Highway 94, Exit 159, Bismarck, ND

Elise Steele woke up to the rather nauseating sight of Elliot Sumner masturbating to one of the adult entertainment channels on the television. She growled audibly and fought hard the urge to kill him then and there. She did not tolerate most men well to begin with and he was pushing all the wrong buttons.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Elise asked the little geek.

"Relaxing," Sumner told her and went back to the television, "unless you care to join in."

"You couldn't handle it," Elise told him, "get dressed before I shoot you."

"You shoot me and Bolantine will end up putting a hit out on you," Elliot taunted her, "now let me finish."

Elise fumed at that and considered proving him wrong, but held back enough to walk out of the room. She stopped at a mirror to look at herself and straighten out her hair. She looked a bit frumpy from the sleeping and driving, but she was still enough to turn most men's heads.

She noticed a middle-aged man ogling her as he passed on his way to his room. He was fifty and obviously married, but the look is one she learned in the bars of Los Angeles years before. Her stress level was just as high as it was then, so she decided to do something about it.

She took note of what room he was in and went to prepare. This motel was like most of the ones she'd used before in its setup, so it wasn't particularly difficult to tell whether he was alone. The room he was in was not the cheapest, but it was one of the utilitarian ones used by business travelers all over the country.

Elise had done this a few times before, and the realization that she needed to do it was always the hardest part. Once she had decided to commit murder she went about it in the same cold blooded and calculating way she did anything else. She found a quiet spot to check her pleasure weapon, a little silenced Chinese pistol that she had obtained ten years before.

She made sure it was filled with the special rimless ammunition that she made herself for these moments. The China type 67 pistols were remarkably small and fit well into a pocket. It also had the distinct advantage of making very little noise, making it easy to mistake it for a television down the hall, if you even recognized it as a gunshot at all.

Elise slid the pistol into her back waistband, using her long coat to cover it. She knew whom her victim was going to be and went over to knock on the door. She made certain that there was nobody around to notice her entry.

"I'm coming!" the man yelled and opened the door a crack, "What do you want?"

"Not what I want," Elise said, remembering the come-hither giggle that got her work when she was younger, "It's what they're paying me to give you."

"They remembered!" the man said, much like a child at Christmas, "And you're a very nice specimen too."

"Are you going to let me in?" Elise asked him, still feigning a happy smiling exterior.

"Right," The middle-aged man said with a leer, "come on in, my dear."

The traveler was a scrawny man with graying hair. Elise outsized him by nearly six inches, and she was in good enough shape to merely have torn him apart if that had been what she wanted. She had something else in mind, however.

The man started to say something else, but she put her finger to her lips and then dropped down to her knees. She had not done that in years, but it was a motion she had done enough times in the past that it was second nature to her. Within seconds she had the man's pants unzipped and dropped down.

Elise could tell that he was already excited, so she continued teasing him along. She actually gave him a show for a bit, bringing him closer to the edge. While she continued stroking him with her left hand she reached behind her to get the pistol out from her waistband.

Just as the man was getting ready to climax Elise clicked the safety off on the pistol and brought it up to the man's eye. Before he even realized anything was wrong Elise pulled the trigger, ending his life just as his dying body went into orgasm.

Elise's entire body shuddered happily with the rapture she felt at this, as if the life force she had taken from the man's body had gone straight through her. The low velocity bullet rattled around in the man's head but failed to exit the skull. She pushed the corpse backwards onto the bed and wiped her face off.

"Take that, asshole," Elise said, wishing that she had just done that to Elliot.

She washed her face and hands quickly. She also cleaned the blood off the gun, as the spray from the wound covered it with a red mist. She cleaned it off quickly and deposited it in one of the small plastic laundry bags provided by the motel. She did the same thing with her jacket. Within five minutes from pulling the trigger she was cleaned up and ready to go.

She went straight to the room and opened the door, finding that Elliot had finished up. He saw the look in her eyes and quickly stood up, wondering what was going to happen next.

"It's time to get moving," Elise told him, "now."

"I'm not ready yet," Elliot protested, "We've been driving..."

"And we will continue driving," Elise said, "until I drop your ass into Bolantine's lap. I've had enough of you and of this fucking job."

"What did you do?" Elliot asked, suddenly feeling very scared.

"Guess," Elise said and packed the pistol in her case, "now get ready. You have five minutes."

"But..." Elliot said and thought better of it. He knew now Elise was insane. He didn't want to antagonize her any more.

"Good choice," Elise said, smiling at the cowed look on Elliot's face, "Get moving. We need to leave town. Now."

## Chapter 58: Mason's Van, Heading west on I-80, Near Toledo, OH

"How the hell do you do this day in and day out?" Karen asked Mason as they drove, "All the tedium of staring at the road?"

"Well," Mason shrugged, "I usually listen to the radio or to TV or a movie."

"You can do that in here?" Karen asked him, impressed.

"The sound system can pick up television," Mason told her, "there's also a DVD unit in the back. I was given a good deal of money to put into this and I've been adding my own improvements ever since."

"How late are you going to drive tonight?" Karen wondered, deciding to sit with him for a while longer.

"Until I feel myself nodding," Mason smiled, "you're welcome to sit and talk with me for a while."

"I still can't quite figure you out," Karen said, starting the conversation, "And that is what my job used to be."

"Maybe I defy description," Mason shrugged, "I don't know."

"Probably," Karen admitted, "but you've taken to this a lot easier than I have."

"I had a lot less to lose," Mason reminded her, "but you seemed to be pretty good with it last night."

"I had help," Karen said, leaning back in the seat, "You weren't all that bad yourself."

"I can think of less pleasant people to have to share eternity with," Mason agreed, "especially since it looks more and more like we're going to be around for a while."

"That part of it is still rather incomprehensible to me. It's just not natural to be in the position we're in."

"Never thought it would happen to me," Mason chuckled, "hell, I'm the last person on earth who should have hit the one in a trillion shot to become immortal. I've managed to screw up just about every non-work related interpersonal relationship I've ever had."

"Never know," Karen said, "maybe this just means that you have a second chance. You haven't managed to put me off yet."

"Give me time," Mason told her, "you've only known me two days. It usually takes at least a week for a full blown hatred to occur."

"Nahh," Karen smiled, "I've got a feeling that you and I will get along just fine."

"The big question now is what is going to happen with Entragian the wonder dummy. Do you think he's going to wake up?"

"Let me go take a look," Karen said, "I'll see if I can detect any signs of brain activity."

"Pupil dilation and the like?" Mason asked her.

"Yep," she nodded, "try not to move me around too much, eh?"

"Right," Mason nodded, "Do me a favor while you're back there. Look in the CD case and grab any Warren Zevon CD you can find."

"Ooo," Karen said as she went back, "you like him too?"

"Have for years," Mason admitted, "great driving music, especially for the cynic in you."

Karen chuckled and found the CD case, pulling out a Zevon greatest hits collection. She slid it into the player in the back and turned on the rear light to look at James Entragian, who was cuffed to one of the grip handles and laid out in Mason's bed in the back.

Just as the first strains of "Lawyers, Guns and Money" came through the sound system Karen pulled back the blankets on the bed that were covering James Entragian's naked body. He was still dirty from the crematorium, but he looked very healthy. Entirely too healthy for a man who had had his head blown off several days before.

"You should be dead," Karen said and then crawled over to look at him, "now let's see what we have."

The first thing Karen noticed was that Entragian was in deep REM sleep. This proved to her that his brain was active. Karen cursed silently and tested his reflexes, which worked properly. She knew for sure he was going to wake up at this point.

Entragian himself was showing no signs of movement as of yet, but this was due to being in such deep sleep. Karen sighed and decided that more tests would be useless until he woke up. She covered the man back up and went back to her seat in the front and looked at Mason.

"He's in REM sleep," Karen informed him, "he's going to wake up, not sure when though."

"I'll drive for another hour or so and find a place to park," Mason said, "I think Indiana should be a good place to let him wake up. I'll find a rural exit and we'll park somewhere for a bit."

"Think you can find a bathroom first?" Karen asked him, "The McDonalds shake is kicking in."

"This is a full featured home, Karen," Mason reminded her, "use the bathroom in here."

"That tank hasn't been emptied since we got in here," Karen said, "is it still safe to use?"

"It's only ¾ full," Mason said, tapping a gauge on the dash, "When we stop in Indiana I'll probably find a sewer or something to empty out in."

"Sounds nice and disgusting," Karen chuckled, wrinkling her nose, "But I think I'll take advantage of it."

"Make yourself at home," Mason reminded her, "you are, after all. I think this van is going to be our home for a while."

"At least you chose nicely," Karen agreed as she sat down on the built in toilet, "it's small, but it's functional and very comfortable. This must have set you back a bundle."

"Paid for by the government too," Mason grinned, "they knew I'd be living out of it and giving up my life to drag these people around. This was one of the benefits."

"And you're taking it away, for shame," Karen said, "of course, if we actually went public and sued, we'd get more than this van."

"Exactly," Mason agreed, "I don't think this project was sanctioned, but they were getting government money which makes them responsible."

Karen looked at Entragian and saw a little bit of movement. She finished up on the toilet and groaned. Moving the blanket she saw that the REM sleep had ended and that he was stirring a little. She figured they had probably an hour, at most two before he woke up on them.

"Find a place quickly," Karen told Mason, "I think he's getting ready to wake up. REM sleep has ended and he's moving."

"Shit," Mason said, "get up here and pull out a map from the glove box. Look for the Ohio/Indiana maps."

"Where are we?" Karen asked him, "I haven't watched signs for a while."

"About Forty miles from Toledo," Mason said, "I think we're getting close to the Indiana Line."

Karen nodded and pulled out several of the maps, finding one that showed Ohio, Indiana and Michigan. She looked around and found that the part of I-90 they were on really did not have any large cities after Toledo until they started approaching South Bend or Gary.

"Anywhere in here," Karen said, "just look for an exit without much built up. I think that's the best we're going to do."

"How long do you think we have?" Mason asked her, "The next exit looks pretty dead. Nowhere road in Montpelier, Ohio."

"Take it," Karen instructed him, "I don't think we want to be moving when he wakes up."

"Not really," Mason agreed and pulled the van off the exit.

This was really the middle of nowhere, as there was not even a gas station nearby. Mason turned down the road and found a spot of woods that he figured would be good enough to park in for a while. It was secluded enough that nobody would notice them for a while, and if they did they would just claim they were being good drivers by deciding to stop and sleep rather than drive while dead tired.

"Should we move him?" Mason wondered, "I think we're going to want the big bed back."

"I doubt it'll hurt much," Karen shrugged, "I'm not a doctor."

"Fuck it," Mason said, "get him up, I'll put the bed down."

"Right," Karen nodded, "where are the keys?"

"In the dish on the counter," Mason said, "I'm going to do a security walk around outside while you unlock him."

Karen merely nodded as she pulled the covers off Entragian. Mason walked around and saw very few signs of life other than a few animals. It was the sort of spot he often used while transporting people around. The odds were that maybe five cars would pass that night, completely overlooking the dark colored van. Mason lit a cigarette and went back into the van, closing and locking the doors.

"It's clear," Mason told her, "I doubt anyone will bother us tonight."

"Good," Karen said, "care to give me a hand with him?"

"Sure," Mason said and roughly picked up Entragian, tossing him into the front seat, "Cuffs?"

Karen handed him the set of cuffs and Mason securely locked Entragian's arms behind his back and threaded through the chair. He was not going to be going anywhere easily. Mason checked his handiwork and sat down on the bed in the back of the van. Karen sat back with him and looked into his eyes.

"What now?" Karen asked him.

"We wait," Mason shrugged and put his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, "maybe spend a few more minutes getting to know you before we deal with him."

"Oh really," Karen smiled and wrapped her arms around him, "getting to know me, huh?"

"Yes indeed," Mason agreed and kissed her softly, "I think we have time yet..."

## Chapter 59: Highway 94, Exit 159, Bismarck, ND

"That bitch has got to be around here somewhere," Rocky Barnes grunted as he drove the Gremlin down 1-94, "what's the next motel?"

"There are several of them over on 159," Jake said as he looked at his map, "if nothing else we can hit the McDonalds. I'm starved."

"You're always starved," Rocky grunted, "we'll worry about food after we ice the bitch."

"Well, it can't hurt anything to go through the drive through and get a few Big Macs, Rock," Jake said, "gotta keep my energy up so we can whack the bitch."

"Denial isn't just a river in fucking Egypt anymore," Rocky said, "keep your eyes peeled on those motels down there."

"I don't see a black Mercedes," Jake said as they passed the motels, "there's the McDonalds though."

"You and your Big Macs," Rocky grunted, "fine, We'll go get some fucking food."

Rocky went through the drive up window at the restaurant and ordered Jake's food. Jake smiled and looked forward to his food, but noticed that there was a black Mercedes sitting in a parking spot. He sat up and looked closer, trying to tell who was inside.

"That look like a black Mercedes to you, Rock?" Jake asked him, "Think it could be the one we want?"

Rocky looked at the car and nodded. He pulled the Gremlin up a few more feet towards the window in the long line and tried to make out the occupants. It was too dark to see through the tinting on that rear window, however.

"Go walk over to the trash can," Rocky instructed Jake, "I'll pay for the food. See if there's a geeky man and a tall woman in the car."

Jake nodded and managed to get his large frame out of the car. He stretched out, something he'd needed to do anyway and brought a bag of garbage to can next to the black Mercedes. He looked inside of the window, something easier to do up close because the lights were on to allow them to eat comfortably.

Elliot Sumner was attacking a hamburger in the front seat, while Elise was attempting to put down one of the fish sandwiches. Elliot took no notice of the killer outside the car, but Elise saw Jake and recognized him for what he was. She did not want a fight in a parking lot, so she threw the last of the food out the window and started the car.

Jake knew he was blown and ran back to the Gremlin, which had just finished passing through the drive through. Jake went into the Gremlin, hitting his head on the ceiling while Rocky peeled out in the car. He was surprised to find that the engine in the little car had been tuned up and had some punch to it.

Elise saw the Gremlin approaching and cursed silently. She knew that they were attackers, and she was pitifully armed. Her little Chinese pistol was going to do no good in a battle, and the other pistol was dropped into a trashcan four states earlier. She was cursing herself for thinking that she was safe enough to put off replacing the pistol until she got to Seattle.

"They're out to kill us, aren't they?" Elliot asked her, looking back at the Gremlin nervously.

"I've seen the type before," Elise said, "Freddie has a few on the payroll himself. Not terribly bright, but great for taking out an unsuspecting target."

"We're the targets," Elliot gulped.

"He was looking for a Mercedes," Elise said, "when he saw me his eyes focused. I'm betting he was tipped on who to look for."

"So what do we do?" Elliot said, really beginning to panic.

"Drive," Elise said, her calm demeanor scaring Elliot, "For some unfathomable reason those idiots are driving a Gremlin. I should be able to out drive them on the highway."

Jake growled and pulled the AK-47 out of the back of the car. Rocky broke nearly every traffic law in the book crossing lanes and trying to catch up to Elise. The Mercedes had a bigger engine, but the little Gremlin was far more maneuverable.

"Should we wait until the highway?" Jake asked Rocky.

"Hell no!" Rocky shouted at him, "We got a shot now, let's end it and we'll ditch the Gremlin."

"With pleasure," Jake said and rolled down the window, putting out the barrel of the AK.

Elise saw the muzzle burst from the automatic rifle before the first bullets hit the frame of her Mercedes. She cursed and gunned the gas and ducked down. Elliot crawled down into the floor of the car, screaming when the rear window shattered.

Rocky darted around the traffic and tried to give Jake a clear shot at the car. The few people that were out on the street took cover as the duel proceeded down State Street. Elise gave up on maneuvering and just barreled down the street trying to get out of range.

"Stay down," Elise told Elliot unnecessarily, "I'm going to try to get us on the highway."

Elise managed to get up to the entrance ramp and dodge another hail of bullets. Jake was hanging out of the window trying to get a decent hit on the fleeing Mercedes. Luckily for Jake his last round of bullets managed to tear into the rear tire, slowing down the vehicle immensely.

"Shit!" Elise yelled as she tried to stabilize the car, "Hold on!"

Elise managed to stop the fishtail and almost stabilize the car, though the time she lost allowed the Gremlin to almost catch up. Elise managed to duck in her seat and avoid the hail of bullets from Jake's latest volley.

"Elliot!" Elise yelled, "In the bag at your feet, get my pistol out of there!"

Elliot was still slightly paralyzed but started trying to get the little Chinese pistol out of the bag. To keep Rocky and Jake from having too easy a time with the dispatch Elise rammed the Gremlin, causing Jake to fumble the clip as he reloaded.

"Here!" Elliot squeaked as he thrust the pistol at Elise.

Elise took the pistol and looked over at the Gremlin. Jake had managed to get hold of things again and begin aiming the weapon. Elise saw this and slammed the Gremlin again, putting her mere inches from Jake and Rocky. Jake tried to level his large and bulky Russian rifle, but Elise was faster with the Chinese pistol, firing two quick shots into the Gremlin, taking out Rocky Barnes.

Its driver now joining the newly dead club, the Gremlin lost control quickly and hit the median hard. Jake grabbed at the wheel, but it was too late. The ancient AMC motorcar was too far damaged to save. It did not help that Elise intentionally rammed the Gremlin again, sending it across the median into traffic.

"Noooo!" Jake yelled as he tried to get the car out of the path of a large semi.

Elise smiled as the Semi obliterated the old Gremlin, along with what was left of its occupants. She pulled the dying Mercedes down off the highway at exit 157 and pulled into the nearest restaurant's parking lot.

"What now?" Elliot asked her, "Get the car fixed?"

"Fuck the car," Elise growled, poking at a scratch from a bullet, "Your face is all over the place. Evidently someone put out a warrant on you."

"So what do we do?" Elliot asked her.

"You get the cases out of the Mercedes," Elise said, "I'll be back with alternate transportation soon."

Elise found what she was looking for at the corner of the parking lot. Jeremy Robinette was looking through a box in his trunk, probably for his wallet since he looked like he had been driving for a while. He had a late model Ford Taurus, which would be comfortable enough for the drive.

"On a long trip?" Elise asked him.

"Sure am," Robinette agreed, "on my way to meet the wife and kid in Minneapolis."

"Sounds like fun," Elise said, "been driving long?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "took a temporary job in Montana, time to go home."

"Good," Elise said and raised the pistol, "nobody will miss you."

Elise fired two quiet shots from the Chinese pistol and pushed the man's body into his own trunk. She took the keys and started the car, driving over and finding Elliot standing there looking stupid with the cases in his hands. She shook her head and looked at the pathetic form in front of her.

"Get in," Elise said harshly, "put the cases in the back seat."

"Where did you get this?" Elliot asked, "Why not the trunk?"

"The trunk is otherwise occupied," Elise growled, "now get in before you join its occupant."

Elliot did what he was told and she drove out of the parking lot quickly, getting back on the highway and heading west. It took her less then fifteen minutes to leave Bismarck behind, along with the bodies of Rocky and Jake.

## Chapter 60: Mason's Van, Parked in the Woods, Montpelier, OH

Mason and Karen were exploring each other a bit more intently when Karen somehow managed to notice that James Entragian was moaning a little and moving. She sat straight up and looked at the much younger looking man stirring against the bonds in his seat.

"Good timing," Mason grumbled, "ok, let's see what we got here."

"Let me do the talking," Karen suggested, "your methods are good for some things, but I have a suspicion my approach will be more useful here."

"I'll keep quiet and not say a word," Mason promised, "I'm just going to have a cigarette here in the back."

Mason lit up a cigarette and watched as Karen went over to Entragian, whose eyes were half opened. He was not drooling, but he did not look all that awake or intelligent yet. Karen turned his seat towards the driver's seat and turned the driver's seat towards him.

"Can you hear me?" Karen asked him, "Wake up!"

"Smooth," Mason chuckled, exhaling some of the carcinogenic smoke.

Karen flipped Mason the bird and continued looking at Entragian. She looked into the eyes and saw that they were focusing, telling her that he did have some brain activity. Whether it would be brain activity that would do any good she wasn't sure yet.

"Wake up," Karen said again, moving Entragian's head around, "Do you speak English?"

"Yes," Entragian slurred, "where am I?"

"You tell me," Karen asked him, "what do you remember?"

Entragian's head came up a little, and it was obvious that he did not have a clue where he was or what had happened. Mason was still dubious, but he let Karen do what she needed to do. Karen gave Entragian a few minutes to answer.

"I don't know," Entragian finally said, his mind obviously taking its sweet time to come to an answer, "Who am I?"

"Well," Karen said, "you obviously retained the ability to speak. Do you know your name?"

"No," Entragian said, looking around the room, "I don't."

"How about my name?" Karen asked him.

"I've never seen you before," Entragian said, his eyes proving he was telling the truth.

"Who is the president of the united states?" Mason asked him, "Quickly now."

"Bill Clinton," Entragian said without thinking about it.

"Who was your best friend in high school?" Mason asked, "Don't think, just answer."

"Elliot Sumner," Entragian said and then looked at Mason in amazement, "I don't recall where I met him though. I can't remember what he looked like either."

"What is the chemical name for Aspirin?" Karen asked him, thinking about the only chemistry question she could remember.

"Acetylsalicylic acid," Entragian said, "good for stopping headaches and preventing heart attacks and stroke."

"Total recall," Karen said, "amazing."

"Who are you and why am I locked up?" Entragian asked them, "This can't be legal!"

"You're a funny one to be having qualms about legality," Mason said dryly, "considering this isn't far off from the situation I woke up in while I was in your hands."

"In my hands?" Entragian asked, confused, "What did I do to you to deserve this?"

"Should we tell him?" Karen wondered.

"You're the expert in psychobabble," Mason shrugged, "I'll follow your lead."

"How about letting me out of here?" Entragian said.

"Not yet," Mason said firmly, "Karen, if you want to talk, you can talk to him. But he stays locked up until I'm satisfied that he's not a danger to us."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Karen asked Mason.

Mason nodded and he slipped out the side door with a harsh glance at Entragian as he went out. Karen looked at Mason, who was still smoking as he walked out in the snow outside. The dark moonless night made it hard to see his face, but the cigarette light showed that he was not happy.

"You're not helping, you know," Karen said.

"Don't tell me you believe him," Mason exclaimed, "that's the man who treated us like fucking lab rats!"

"I'm not so sure," Karen said, "I don't give a rat's ass what the religious idiots say, the soul of a man isn't a metaphysical thing. It is a bunch of chemicals residing in the brain. James Entragian's brain was splattered all over the wall at his clinic. Whoever that man is in there, I don't think he is the same one who imprisoned us."

"So you trust him?" Mason asked her, "That makes no sense."

"What would it take to convince you?" Karen asked him.

"I'm not sure it's possible," Mason said, "I went through more with him than you did."

"I'm going to tell him what he did," Karen said, "I want you to keep your mouth shut and watch him while I do it. See if he reacts anything like the Entragian you observed before."

"He stays locked up while you do it," Mason said emphatically, "I don't want to have to fight him if we have to drop him down a well or something."

"Fine," Karen sighed, "but I don't want to hear any snide comments. Let me do the talking. Got it?"

"Yes," Mason nodded, tossing his cigarette out into the snow.

They went back into van and Mason sat back down on the bed in the back, not really liking the situation but steeling himself to watch it without emotion. Karen looked at Mason and then sat down across from Entragian.

"Well?" Entragian asked her, "What?"

"I'm going to tell you what you did," Karen said, "maybe then you'll understand Mason's reaction to you being awake again."

"Will it get me out of here?" Entragian asked her.

"Not until I'm done," Karen said, "we need you to know this before we even think of releasing you."

"Who am I?" Entragian asked again, "The name James runs through my head, but I can't connect it to anything."

"Your name was James Entragian," Karen told him, "And you invented something that could potentially destroy the world..."

## Chapter 61: Motel Six, Highway 94, Exit 159, Bismarck, ND

The young man was woozy from the excessive amount of alcohol that he had consumed in the bar down stairs. He was drunk enough that he even pressed the wrong number on the elevator, getting off on the second floor instead of the third.

He wobbled his way down the hall and found something that looked quite a lot like his room number, although it was hard to make out which of the three numbers he saw at once was the right one. Being as drunk as he was, he did not even think twice when he did not even have to use his keycard to push the door open.

Unfortunately for this young man, Elise did not take the time to lock the door on her way out. The body of the businessman that she had murdered was lying splayed out on the bed just as she had left him nearly an hour before. The body was not even cold when the young man stumbled into it, sobering him up in a hurry!

"Shit!" the man yelled and jumped up, running into the hall and promptly smacking into the other side and falling down unconscious.

The security guard saw the man a few minutes later. The door to the room was wide open at this point, showing the corpse to the world. The body was now public and the police would be descending on the room.

"Jesus," the guard said, "a murder? Here!"

## Chapter 62: Mason's Van, Parked in the Woods, Montpelier, OH

"Oh god," James Entragian said when Karen finished the story, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"See why Mason reacted so badly to your reawakening now?" Karen asked him.

Mason sat there in silence, smoking yet another cigarette. He had been listening quietly for well over an hour and he was shocked at the changes that were showing in James Entragian. Karen was right. Entragian really was a different person.

Gone was the superiority and the desire to be the master of everything. He was thoroughly sickened by what Karen had told him and the reactions were showing something that Mason was not expecting from him. James Entragian now had a conscience where his previous personality showed no signs of having one at all.

"I still don't know whether to believe this," Entragian said, "I mean I just have your word on it and you've got me locked up like a criminal."

"Fine," Mason said, as he reached into the kitchen area and picked up a butcher knife, "Don't believe."

Mason then threw the butcher knife in a very well aimed shot to Entragian's chest. Entragian jerked violently as the knife tore into his heart, slicing it nearly in two. Mason watched calmly as Entragian's body went into spasms. Karen scowled at Mason, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Was that necessary?" Karen asked him.

"If that doesn't make him a believer it will remove the problem," Mason shrugged.

Karen reached over and pulled the knife out of Entragian's body, watching the flesh heal around it as she pulled it out. Entragian stopped jerking around and looked down in wonder at the spot where there should have been blood pouring out of him. He realized that he could breathe normally again and looked in shock at Mason and Karen.

"Why am I not dead?" Entragian asked them, "I may not remember much, but I do know the usual result of having a butcher knife lodged in your heart is a rather quick death."

"You think you can believe us now?" Mason asked him reasonably.

"What the hell did I do?" Entragian said, looking down sadly, "How could I have done it."

"We still have a chance to undo it," Karen said, "and given the raw knowledge you have in that subject area you could be a help to us. Do you remember how to make it, James?"

"Thankfully no," Entragian said with a sigh of relief, "and will you kindly stop calling me James. I don't think I want to carry his name."

"How about Jim?" Mason asked him, surprised that he was considering letting the man out.

"That works," Jim said, nodding, "Now can I get out of here?"

"Mason?" Karen asked him.

"Do it," Mason said, "but remember something, Jim. If you fuck with me I will find the deepest, darkest hole I can and dump you down it. Got me?"

"I can't say as I blame you," Jim agreed, "I don't particularly want to make a bad situation worse."

Karen released Jim's wrists from the handcuffs that had him bound, leaving the man free to rub his sore wrists. He rubbed the area over his heart, surprised to find that there was not even any indication of scarring.

"This is scary, Mason," Jim said, "where do we go from here?"

"Have you checked the phone today, Mase?" Karen asked him.

"No," Mason sighed, "I'll do it in the morning. I vote for a few hours of sleep before we drive again."

"Seattle?" Jim asked, putting two and two together.

"Yes," Mason said, "do you remember anything about Bolantine?"

"I know who he is," Jim shrugged, "I know he paid for the clinic to start up. What he had us working on eludes me, but I'm guessing it's the same thing we are dealing with now."

"That's the indication I got out of it," Karen sighed, "I guess we won't find out more until we get there."

"That chair you were locked to turns into a bed," Mason told Jim, "Karen, you want to sleep with me back here?"

"But of course," Karen smiled, "I'm not going anywhere else."

"Low man again," Entragian said, sighing, "Why do you get the girl and I get bupkis?"

"Because he didn't murder two people in cold blood," Karen smiled as she slid into the back, "and I've known him longer."

"A whole two days," Entragian said, grimacing.

"Take it easy and get some sleep," Mason suggested, "and don't try running off. I'm a light sleeper. I will hear you."

"Nowhere to go," Entragian shrugged, "better the devil you know than freezing with the one you don't."

"That's the spirit," Mason said and closed the privacy door.

"Like I have a choice," Entragian mumbled and curled up on the little bed to go to sleep.

## Chapter 63: Chris Gabriel's Bedroom, Boland Creek, NY

The phone started ringing early in the morning, causing Carrie Gabriel to groan and put a pillow over her head, much like she usually did when the phone went off early in the morning. Chris let out a few quiet four-letter words as he picked up the handset.

"You have reached Chris Gabriel," he said testily, "you'd best have something important to tell me considering its four in the morning."

"Sorry boss," Larry Middleton said, "they told me that I was to let you know immediately if anything came in on the Sumner APB."

"We get a location on the bastard?" Chris asked him, his mind waking up quickly.

"Sounds like he was in North Dakota a few hours ago," Middleton said, "they have a few stiffs up there and one of the perps sounds like our man."

"Our man isn't a killer," Chris said, "why did they think it's ours?"

"Very few wanted men who look like Sumner," Middleton told him, "they said that the reports on the gunfight that were witnessed said that Sumner took cover while a girl took out the bad guys."

"Sounds like our guy," Chris agreed, "what did they want from me?"

"More information," Middleton said, "since you haven't let me know what's going on, I figured I'd call you."

"Got a number?" Chris asked him.

"Sure," Larry said and rattled off a North Dakota number.

"Go back to your TV," Chris told him, "I'll deal with this."

"Right," Larry said, showing with his voice that he did not care either way.

Chris put the phone down and went down to his study, sitting himself down in his easy chair and picking up the phone. He also turned on the monitor on his computer, pulling up a notepad window to write down anything necessary. He rubbed one eye and grumbled about the time while he dialed the number.

"This is Ludovico," the voice said, "what's going on?"

"My name is Chris Gabriel," he told the man on the phone, "was it you who called my deputy about Elliot Sumner?"

"Yeah," Ludovico said, "it's been a busy night here. Is your boy traveling with a tall woman with dark hair?"

"I've heard rumors to that effect," Chris said, "Sumner isn't a killer on his own."

"I think we might have a match," Ludovico told him, "I've got a still from the security system. Got a fax machine?"

"Sure," Chris said, turning his second line to fax mode and giving him the number, "Go ahead and get it to there."

"Right," Ludovico said, "it's been a bad night here. A dead businessman and a rolling gun battle. It's been a bitchy day."

"Great," Chris said, "where are you, anyway?"

"Bismarck," Ludovico said, "North Dakota. Nobody bothers to do anything up here. It's insane."

"Any survivors in the gun battle?" Chris asked him.

"The girl and the dolt got away," Ludovico told him, "the other two were smashed into jelly by a Semi."

Chris watched the indicator on his computer show that he'd received a fax. He pulled up the fax and looked closely at the grainy black and white picture. The girl's hair shielded her face, but Elliot Sumner was clearly visible in the photograph. Chris knew that their man had been in Bismarck a few hours before.

"That's Sumner," Chris said, "no doubt about it."

"You going to send someone out here?" Ludovico asked.

"I've got a few freelancers," Chris said, thinking about Mason, "You should see one of them on your doorstep later today or tomorrow. He's probably out of the area by now, so no hurry."

"You use freelancers?" Ludovico said, "Why?"

"I'm understaffed," Chris lied, "they perform odd jobs like this. Mason Stone should be up there soon. He's an ex-cop, so he knows what is what."

"I'll extend him any courtesy I can as long as he doesn't get in the way," Ludovico said, not quite convinced, "I'll call you if I need anything else. How will I know them?"

"Mason is a tall guy wears a lot of black and has black hair, looks young but has experience under his belt," Chris told him, "his partner Karen is average size and very blonde."

"I'll be waiting for them," Ludovico told him.

"Thanks," Chris said and put down the phone. He looked at the image a few more moments and pulled out the number Mason had written down for him the day before. He dialed it and got the anonymous voice mail that he expected.

"We have a sighting," Chris said, "they were just in Bismarck. Start heading there and call me."

Chris clicked off the telephone and put it down on the table. He decided to go catch up his sleep before Mason and company got around to calling him.

## Chapter 64: Mason's Van, I-80 west

Karen Stone rubbed one of her eyes as she got used to driving the large van. Mason was sitting in the passenger seat with Jim Entragian reclining in the back left seat. They were driving quickly down the highway, though Karen was trying not to be the fastest thing on the road.

"Have you checked the phone yet?" Karen asked Mason.

"That's next," Mason said, "Jim, can you hand me the phone in the pouch behind you?"

"Sure," Jim nodded and passed the phone over to Mason.

Mason turned it on and waited for it to find a signal before dialing the number for voicemail. Jim picked the guidebook out of the package on the device and began reading it quickly. Mason listened intently to the four messages on that phone, three of which dated from before his "death."

"Cute," Mason said, "Benny had been trying to get in touch with me for a week after I got shot."

"Anything important?" Karen asked him.

"Not anymore," Mason shrugged, "the last one is from last night though."

Mason listened to the message and nodded, not overly surprised at what he heard. He knew the woman that was with Sumner was dangerous. He was betting that they managed to attract some attention.

"Give me the other phone in that box, Jim," Mason said as he turned off the message phone.

"How many of these things do you have?" Jim asked him, "There's gotta be a dozen in here."

"You'll see in a minute," Mason said, "Hand me one."

Jim shrugged and handed Mason one of the phones. Mason turned it on and had it pick up a signal, at which point he dialed the number to Gabriel's office. It did not even ring twice before Chris Gabriel answered the phone.

"Gabriel," he said.

"Stone," Mason said, "this is a disposable cell phone. What do you have?"

"It seems that Sumner and the psycho woman were in Bismarck last night," Gabriel said, "three corpses. I told them I'd be sending a freelancer."

"I take it that's us," Mason agreed, "good. We'll be there probably by tonight. I need to stop in Chicago to get some identification for the three of us."

"Three?" Gabriel asked, "Entragian is awake?"

"Let's just say he's had a 12 gauge attitude adjustment," Mason said, grinning at Jim, "I don't trust him yet, but he's working with us for now."

"Be careful," Gabriel said, "I'll back you as much as I can, but try to keep a low profile."

"Try not to tell Strader," Mason said, "I don't feel like meeting him yet."

"Right," Gabriel told him, "now get off the phone and keep driving."

"I'll let you know if I find anything," Mason promised and cut off the line.

"Do you know someone in Chicago to get ID from?" Karen asked him.

"If he hasn't been closed down in the past six months," Mason said and dialed another number, "let's see if the code is there."

Mason listened for a few moments and scrawled down a number. Once he had the number he did some simple addition and came up with another phone number within a few minutes.

"What was that about?" Jim asked him.

"It's a coded number," Mason said, "they put it on the machine there and if you have the correct formula you get the phone number."

"Cool," Karen said, suitably impressed.

Mason spent the next few minutes calling the number and getting the meet set up. By the time he finished he had a place set for a meet, one that would delay them less than an hour in Chicago. He closed the phone and smiled at the others.

"Now what do you do with it?" Jim asked him, referring to the phone.

"This," Mason said as he lowered the window and tossed the phone out, "Kinda hard to trace a phone I no longer have."

"Very nice," Karen said, frowning, "littering is not cool."

"Neither is getting tracked," Mason said, "besides, some kid will pick it up and make a few long distance calls before disposing of it properly."

"Nice," Jim chuckled.

"Karen," Mason said, "you good to drive until Chicago?"

"Sure," she shrugged, "you need some relax time. You've driven most of the last couple days."

"I can drive," Jim offered.

"Not a chance," Mason said, "I don't know how fucked up your memories are yet. I'm not chancing you driving until I know you better."

"I second that," Karen said, "if you've got movies back there, go watch one."

"You up for a bad Chuck Norris movie?" Mason asked Jim.

"Since I don't remember who Chuck Norris is," Jim told him, "I've got nothing to lose."

"Don't say that," Karen said with a wry smile, "you don't know how bad those movies are."

"Let's start with Missing in Action," Mason said, thumbing his nose at Karen as he fired up the DVD player, "If she's good to drive long enough we'll go through the entire series."

## Chapter 65: Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Seattle, WA

Richard Strader walked off the airplane, glad to be on the ground again. He was beginning to get sick of air travel, especially considering that the way he was going he would be earning a free trip to Europe before he saw his next birthday. He rubbed his eyes and quickly wondered just how long a day this one was going to be.

It took him only a few minutes to get through the counters and get his rental car from Hertz. It was one of the plain Ford sedans that every government employee rented when they had to go through a public rental agency.

Strader drove the little car with purpose, managing to find his way to the small base the army had in the area. He'd been busy over the last few days trying to find some information on his quarry, but had found the military records on a civilian criminal like Bolantine to be paltry at best, useless at worst.

Colonel Strader lit a cigarette as he approached the military intelligence office. The pariah of the military community, they were the ones who kept all the dirty little secrets, including illicit deals that have been made with the likes of Bolantine in the past.

"Colonel Strader, I presume," Colonel Rob Jarvis said from his reclining chair just inside the door, "come on in. We've been expecting you."

Colonel Jarvis was one of those men who looked like they should have been retired years before, but just held on due to sheer competence and a complete and utter revulsion to the idea of spending his golden years playing golf and being out of the game.

"I've heard stories about you," Strader said with a smile, "my old man served with you back in Europe when you were kicking Hitler's ass."

"Rollie Strader," Jarvis said, his old memory clicking into place, "I haven't spoken to that old dog in Thirty years. Last I heard he was taking a command in Vietnam."

"Sniper got him in Da Nang same year I went in," Richard told him, "blew his head clean off. Thirteen-year-old VC sniper. That was a shitty war."

"There's no such thing as a good one," Jarvis agreed, "your clearance is top notch, Richard. Straight from the upper levels of the pentagon. That type of clout makes me nervous. What are you looking for?"

"One of our research programs went rogue," Strader told the older man, "we think there's a connection to an old crime figure in this area."

"Bolantine," Jarvis said without even thinking about it, "if it's organized crime in this area that old son of a bitch has a hand in it."

"That's the name," Strader told him, "he's hip deep in the financial records we have on this project."

"Genetics of some sort?" Jarvis asked him.

"Close enough," Strader said, "I don't want to go into the details, but it's related to that."

"He's been throwing money into that field for years," Jarvis told him, "he's been offering millions to anyone who can make his girl come out of a coma."

"Coma?" Richard said, surprised, "What's this?"

"Nikki Deseve," Jarvis said, "it's not military related, but I got this story from one of my friends on the police force."

"I've never heard this one," Jarvis's friend said, "who is Nikki Deseve?"

"Who was Nikki Deseve is more appropriate. She was a young woman Bolantine was involved with in the late sixties," Jarvis told them, "real wild child. He was nearly 40 years older than her, but they fit like hand in glove."

"Lovely," Strader said, "sounds like a match made in hell."

"It ended fairly quickly," Jarvis said, "girl got herself shot up by the cops about thirty years ago. Legend had it she's been in a coma ever since."

"He's still trying to get her brought back?" Strader asked, aghast at the thought, "Jesus."

"Word on the street is that she resides in a special chamber designed to keep her alive," Jarvis shrugged, "don't know anything for sure, but there's no death certificate listed for her."

"That would explain his involvement in this," Strader said, "Entragian's research was centered on this subject. We think he made a breakthrough, but he was killed before he could tell us what he did."

"Something must have gotten out, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Jarvis observed.

"One of the other doctors," Strader said, pulling out the file, "Elliot Sumner. He's on the loose and might have the formula."

"If it even comes close to working that's a scary thought," Jarvis said, "I'm assuming that whether it works or not is highly classified."

"You'd be right on that," Strader agreed, "do we have any records here on Bolantine?"

"Probably a few dating back to the Second World War," Jarvis said, "they often had to deal with the hoods back then to keep them from bucking the war effort."

"That's not going to help me much," Strader said, "where could I find more current information?"

"The FBI would have a current dossier," Jarvis said, "But I've heard about that mess you've started out in New York. They're going to be about as forthcoming as Elvis's colon to us right now."

"What about the locals?" Strader asked.

"The locals have a pretty effective org crime unit," Jarvis admitted, "I've had some dealings with one man on that team, Marcus Holbein. He's a good man, more interested in results than advancement. Anything that hurts Bolantine will make him rather happy."

"How do I get in touch with him?" Strader asked, "I'll make it worth your while?"

"I'll make a couple calls," Jarvis said, "I don't want to know what you're working on, but your clearance comes from the top."

"Anything I can help you with?" Strader asked him, noticing he wanted something.

"Talk to your contacts at the pentagon," Jarvis said, "they're trying to retire me again. I don't want to spend the last years in the old folks home."

"I'll call them from the motel," Strader promised, "I'm sure something can be worked out."

"I'd appreciate it," Jarvis smiled, "I'll go make some calls. Where are you staying?"

"Got any suggestions?" Strader asked, "I haven't been in this area for years."

"There's a little inn on the sound," Jarvis said, "I think it's called the Edgewater. Not cheap but not expensive enough to piss off the auditors. It's also close to the police station."

"Sounds good to me," Strader said, "I'm going to go get checked in there. Should I call you later?"

"I'll call Holbein," Jarvis said, "the Edgewater takes messages, so I'll leave his contact information with the clerk there."

"Thank you much," Strader said with a smile and walked out of the room.

## Chapter 66: Exit 126, Interstate 90, Butte, MT

Elise Steele was still very pissed off. She was in fugitive mode again, something she had done a few times in the past. Her black hair was pushed back and tied with a rubber band taken from some papers in the back of the car. She was chain smoking at this point, trying to figure out who had sold her out.

"How bad does Bolantine want this shit?" Elise asked Sumner, who was still cowering quietly in the passenger seat.

"He's been funding us for over a decade," Elliot said, "he wouldn't risk the results he's wanted for so long in an attempt to get past the money."

"That's my read on him too," Elise agreed, "the only reason I'm here is because Freddie wanted to use his contacts to get us started out in that area."

"So who sent those two idiots in the Gremlin?" Elliot wondered.

"I think our friend Bolantine has a leak in his house," Elise said as she pulled into a Wendy's, "probably that weasel Alvin Christie."

"What do we do now?" Elliot asked her.

"We get some food," Elise told him, "then we look for another car. This one will be hot before long. I want to ditch it before it ditches us."

"Another murder?" Elliot said, showing his distaste for Elise's proclivities.

"Just be glad you're worth more to me alive than dead," Elise said, her eyes burning with hatred, "Otherwise you'd be next."

Elliot had no problem believing that from her. Dinner, which consisted of several double cheeseburgers, went quietly. Elise was still very pissed and rest really had not come for her since she began this insane mission. She knew that she wanted to get some revenge, but what she wanted most was the money.

"Let's go find a place to ditch this car," Elise said as she lit up yet another cigarette.

She started up the stolen vehicle and took a left from the Wendy's, taking a sharp right onto McKinley Avenue. It did not take Elise long to find a house that looked vacated with a garage. She opened the Garage and parked the stolen car in it.

"That should give someone a nice surprise," Elise said, "Get your case and let's go."

Elise quickly checked the load on her pistol, highly regretting that she did not have more rounds available. She was down to her last four rounds in the Chinese pistol's nine shot cartridge, and her extras were sitting in a secure place at her safe house, well over a thousand miles to the East.

"You have everything?" Elise asked him.

"Yes," Elliot said, following blindly at this point.

Elise looked at the little man and nodded. She walked out to the street and went over to one old house that looked pretty well unkempt. She figured that it would be the least likely to be noticed if she did something.

"Looks good so far," Elise said, "is there a car in the garage?"

"Looks like an old Mustang," Elliot said, "don't know if it runs or not."

"Wait here," Elise said, "I'm going in."

"You can't do that!" Elliot protested.

"Watch me," Elise said with a smile.

Elise walked to the back door of the house and looked inside. She saw an old fat man sitting on the couch watching something incredibly stupid on the television. A few moments of looking at the door convinced her to go ahead and simply go on in. She withdrew a hunting knife from a sheath and used it to flip the flimsy lock on the back door.

The Chinese pistol was out and in her hand as she entered the house. She quickly moved into that living room and was rather surprised when the old man raised a weapon towards her. Luckily she had her weapon out and ready to go, so she managed to shoot the old man's arm and kick the weapon away.

"You bitch!" he yelled.

"Count on it," Elise said evenly, "how many people are in the house?"

"Fuck you," the old man said.

"I doubt you could get it hard enough to satisfy me," Elise said and raised a well formed leg to apply some pressure and pain to the wound, "Now how many people are here?"

"I'm alone," the old man said, "my wife died years ago you bitch."

"Good," Elise said, "I take it that nobody is going to miss you very much then."

Elise picked up the weapon she had kicked away and took a good look at it, surprised to find that it was a very nice Colt Combat commander, very well taken care of and fully loaded. She had always loved the .45 automatics and had carried a few of these pistols in the past.

"Is that your mustang in the garage?" Elise asked him, clicking the safety off the old man's pistol.

"Blow me," the old man said, groaning from the pain in his shoulder where Elise was pressing, "I'm not telling you shit."

"You can be that way," Elise said, "but you're going to die regardless. If you tell me what I need to know I'll kill you quickly with a .45 to the brain. If you don't, I'll shoot you with my smaller caliber pistol just below the eye. You're obviously a collector. You know what that will do."

The man did, as his eyes went wide. A small caliber bullet well aimed will only scramble the brains a little. It is not a pleasant way to live, and if done properly the body will go on for years after the shot is removed. Elise let the man think about it and kept the pressure on his wound to make it harder for him to resist.

"Where are the keys to the mustang?" Elise asked him.

"Kitchen counter," the man groaned.

"Good," Elise said, "any extra rounds around for this gun?"

"Two boxes in the closet," the man groaned.

"Thank you," Elise said.

She raised the weapon quickly and fired a single shot into the man's left eye, killing him instantly. She then went to the closet and picked up the boxes of ammunition, finding a bonus of extra weapons. She picked out the best rifles and went back out the door to find Elliot sitting against the garage.

"Open the Garage," Elise said.

Elliot followed instructions and Elise put the weapons in the trunk of the Mustang. She was impressed that the man had been able to keep a 1972 mustang in rust free condition in the middle of Montana for over 25 years. She got into the front seat and fired up the ignition, enjoying the powerful feel of the well-tuned motor.

"Good choice," Elise said approvingly as she massaged the transmission, "you ready to head for Seattle?"

"Do I have a choice?" Elliot asked her.

"No," Elise agreed as she shifted the manual transmission into reverse, "you really don't."

## Chapter 67: Motel Six, Highway 94, Exit 159, Bismarck, ND

Mason Stone rubbed his eyes as he pulled off the exit in Bismarck. He had been driving virtually nonstop since they picked up the identification in Chicago. He had done a lot of driving in the past, but it had been years since he had pulled a nonstop speed run as he did between Chicago and Bismarck, making what was normally a 12-hour drive in slightly less than nine.

"Think they're still there?" Jim asked him, "It's been nearly 18 hours since the body was discovered."

"As big as this one is for this area," Mason said, "my guess is that they are working it hard. This may be the state capital, but it has less people than most of Albany's suburbs."

"Great," Jim said, "I'm betting you don't want me anywhere near the cops."

"I'd prefer to avoid that," Mason said, "Karen knows how to act, but you don't."

"Want me to go to the bar and listen to the scuttlebutt?" Jim asked hopefully.

"Sure," Mason said, "just take it easy. Don't come off like a reporter."

"Yes, dad," Jim said, "let me off at the corner. I'll walk in on my own."

"Take some cash," Mason said, handing him a few 20's, "That way you can pay for your drinks. Stay sober tonight please."

"It'll be a nice test," Jim grinned, "I'm curious to see if alcohol will even affect us anymore."

"Take it easy," Mason said, "I'll pick you up in a couple hours."

"We staying here tonight?" Jim asked him.

"Depends on what Karen and I find out," Mason said, "now get moving."

Jim took no time at all to jump out of the van and walk over to the motel. Mason looked at him and shook his head as the poorly clad man walked towards the motel. He directed the van into the parking lot and found a parking space near the back of the lot.

"Karen," Mason said as he walked into the back, "you awake yet?"

"We there yet?" Karen asked him.

"We're in the parking lot," Mason told her, "Jim just went to the bar to nose around. There are still a number of police cars here, so I think we should go inside and introduce ourselves."

"Go on out and have a cigarette," Karen told him, "I'll have myself presentable in a few minutes. Where are the clothes we picked up in Chicago?"

"On the counter," Mason said, "we'll probably end up staying here tonight unless we find a burning reason to start driving again."

"Best news I've heard today," Karen mumbled.

Mason smiled and let himself out of the van. He lit up a cigarette and stretched his legs, thankful for the cruise control that took some of the pressure off the drive. He almost felt human again by the time Karen stepped out of the van, looking presentable in the new set of clothes they picked up during their quick stop in Chicago.

"Looking good, Karen," Mason said, "let's go find Ludovico."

"You got it," Karen said, "sleep helped. Can't wait to stop moving for a while."

"Soon," Mason said, "we just have to stop Elliot from passing on that serum first."

"Then let's not waste time here smoking cigarettes," Karen said as she took the smoke and took a long puff before tossing it into the snow.

Mason smiled as he walked inside. Karen followed closely and they found the police easily, as there was a uniformed officer standing down in the lobby. They walked over and got the man's attention.

"I'm looking for Detective Ludovico," Mason said, "my name is Stone. He's expecting me."

"You're that guy from back east, eh?" the uniformed officer said, "Brian is up on the second floor in the murder room."

"I'm sure I won't have much trouble finding it," Mason said, "thanks."

They went up the stairs and found the room with the ugly yellow caution tape used at crime scenes all over the country. Brian Ludovico was standing outside the door giving some instructions to a young patrolman.

"You must be Ludovico," Mason said, "my name is Mason Stone. Chris Gabriel sent me out concerning the Sumner mess."

"Yeah," Ludovico said, "the hired gun. You fly in tonight?"

"We drove in a few minutes ago," Mason said, "we've been chasing that pain in the ass across the country."

"Drove in?" Ludovico said, "Damn, I thought Gabriel was kidding about that. Welcome to my personal hell."

"How's that?" Karen asked.

"More killings than we have detectives for," Ludovico shrugged, "I've been on duty for nearly 24 hours now."

"I've been there," Mason agreed, "that's why I left the gig. Much prefer working on my own schedule."

"I've been considering it most of the day," Ludovico chuckled, "come on in. I'll show you the scene. Crime scene people have already been in and gone."

"Just one victim here?" Mason asked, "Find any cartridges?"

"One," Ludovico said, "strange one too. Never seen anything like it before."

"You have it here?" Mason asked.

"No," the detective said, "I've got a Polaroid of it though."

"I'm going to look around the room," Karen said and left the men to talk ballistics.

Ludovico handed mason the photographs of the spent casing from Elise's pistol. It was not a great photography job, but it was identifiable. Mason had not seen one of these shells for years.

"You found this in the room?" Mason asked him.

"Strange shell," Ludovico said, "most of the murders I see around here are either 9 mm or .45 shells."

"That's a 7 and a half mil rimless shell," Mason said, "goes to a Chinese pistol. A Triad gang I dealt with a while back imported them from China. Silent pistol. Piece of shit mechanically, but it's good for stuff like this."

"You know your guns, Stone," Ludovico said, "where would you obtain one now?"

"Any number of places," Mason said, "it's still a service pistol in China. I'm sure they've dumped a few over here."

"Great," Ludovico grumbled, "well, here are the stills from the video outside."

While Mason was going over the still images from the video, Karen was looking at the scene. There was remarkably little blood for a head wound, mainly because the little bullet from Elise's gun did not exit the skull.

"Got the crime scene photos?" Karen asked them.

"Here," Ludovico said, "if you see anything of use, let me know."

Karen intently looked at the photos, trying to get the feel of the killer. She saw that the man had his dick hanging out and it was fairly obvious that someone was polishing his knob, probably right about the time he died. Karen knew that the woman had to be the killer, as no one else could have gotten close enough.

"The girl is the killer," Karen said, "this is a sex crime and it would take a woman or a gay man to do this."

"Guy was straight," Ludovico said, "he'd been hitting on the waitresses down in the bar."

"It's psycho chick in the pictures," Mason said, "same one that's traveling with Elliot. I don't know about you, but if I was forced to travel with Elliot Sumner I'd consider killing someone too."

"Do you have any proof?" Ludovico asked hopefully.

"'Fraid not," Mason said, "but I can confirm that the jackass in that picture most definitely is Elliot Sumner."

"Which means someone tried to ice them within a couple hours of this," Ludovico told them, "rolling gunfight down I-94 that culminated with the deaths of two hoods in a Gremlin."

"A Gremlin?" Karen asked incredulously, "You're kidding?"

"That's what it looked like," Ludovico said, "there really isn't enough left to tell after it got destroyed by a semi. I don't know if we'll ever get an ID on either of the bodies. Both of them are pretty much mush."

"Has a bulletin been put out on the car?" Mason asked him.

"Car was found a few hours ago parked in front of a Denny's two exits away," Ludovico told him, "you want to take a look at it?"

"Is it still there?" Mason asked him.

"Crime scene guy has been there but we're short tow trucks," Ludovico growled, "things should be just like they were left."

"Let's go," Mason said, "we just need to stop by the bar really quick first."

"Need a drink?" Karen asked him.

"Jim," Mason said simply, "you can go get the van ready to roll though."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Karen agreed, "go see if you can keep him out of the trouble."

"Who's this?" Ludovico asked.

"Jim is the third member of our team," Mason explained, "he's checking out the bar."

"Right," the man nodded, not quite sure what to make of Mason.

Karen departed the room quickly, taking the keys to the van from Mason. Mason and Ludovico went straight to the bar and looked for Jim Entragian, who was nowhere to be found. Ludovico looked at Mason and shrugged.

"I'll be out in a minute," Mason said, "give Karen the directions, will you?"

"Sure," Ludovico nodded.

Mason went over to the bartender and sat down on a stool, getting the man's attention quickly. It was late in the evening on a weeknight and business was not very brisk.

"How can I help you, sir?" the bartender asked Mason.

"I'm looking for a man," Mason said, "about five foot seven, looks about 20 with a bald head."

"What are you looking for him for?" the man said.

"He's late," Mason said, "now where is he?"

"He took up with a girl," the bartender said, "she's in here a lot, I think she's a working girl. Never really asked her."

"Shit," Mason sighed, "which way did they go?"

"Towards the bathrooms," the bartender said, "listen, you're not a cop or anything are you? I don't condone what they do, but as long as they aren't..."

"I'm not a cop," Mason said, "and I don't care. I just need to find Jim."

Mason went to the bathrooms and heard some groaning from one of the stalls. Mason sighed and debated between going easy and going slowly. He decided that he wouldn't scare the woman out of her wits and pushed the door open.

"Jesus!" Jim exclaimed, "Mason!"

"Very nice, Jim," Mason said, "picking up a hooker in a motel bar?"

"I've been listening to you and Karen all day," Jim said, "I wasn't finding shit so I decided to have a little fun while I was waiting."

"Get a room," Mason suggested, "Karen and I are going to look at the car Elliot escaped in. They found it abandoned."

"You don't need me?" Jim asked, surprised by this.

"Not right now," Mason said, "try not to get arrested, ok?"

"Right," Entragian said and his attention went back to the girl.

Mason simply shook his head and walked out of the bathroom.

## Chapter 68: The Edgewater Inn, Main Dining Room, Seattle, WA

Richard Strader lit a cigarette as he waited for his dinner in the dining room. He was impressed with the place so far and glad to be getting some form of food that did not come wrapped in wax paper.

A middle-aged man walked into the room and was directed by one of the waiters over to Strader's table. Strader looked up and was surprised by how much the man looked like a young Columbo, a look that Marcus Holbein has been cultivating for years.

"You must be Marcus," Strader said, offering a hand, "Thanks for coming out to see me on such short notice."

"I never argue with a free meal," Marcus Holbein chuckled, shaking hands with Strader, "Especially if it means I don't have to go deal with my wife tonight."

"I know that feeling well," Strader chuckled, "but I don't have to deal with it anymore. She's off fucking some twelve year old somewhere."

"Must be nice," Marcus said, sitting down and looking around, "Jarvis said you're interested in Bolantine. What are you trying to find out?"

"We've run into his tracks on a research project back east," Strader told him, "I just want to learn a little more about him to find out if we need to be worried about it."

"If Bolantine is anywhere near it you should be worried," Holbein told him, "That man is one malignant son of a bitch. Just as bad as any of them back in the 20's and 30's."

"How old is he?"

"Pushing ninety," Holbein said, "Got his start working for Al Capone when he was a teenager. He was a low level member of Capone's outfit until the feds caught up with the big man himself."

"I didn't think there were any of those bastards left," Strader chuckled.

"Precious few," Holbein agreed, "I think that Bolantine and Joe Bonnano are the only major ones left from that generation of gangsters. Bolantine was smarter than Bonanno though. He crushed his enemies here ruthlessly, so there was no major competition. Anyone who came into Seattle to compete with him died."

"Sounds like a charming man," Strader said dryly, "I don't know as if I'd want him as a neighbor."

"Actually word is that he's fairly calm to live next to," Holbein said, "He keeps his personal premises very clean. We've been trying for over fifty years to get something on the bastard with no luck at all."

"So he's been around for a while," Strader said, "how does he keep clean?"

"Payoffs," Holbein shrugged, "nobody admits it, but I'm dead certain that there are generations of officers who have all been on the take from Bolantine's outfit."

"Any word on his personality?"

"He's supposedly very charismatic," Holbein said and then noticed a waiter coming, "I suppose we should order before I continue."

Strader nodded and they both ordered dinner, with Strader ordering a refill of club soda to go along with it. The sight of alcohol in the room was driving Strader nuts, but he was determined to stay sober at least until he had a line on the serum again.

"Charismatic, huh?" Strader said as he choked down some club soda, "Sounds like a cultist."

"Not really," Holbein said, sampling the salad that was just laid out in front of him, "Bolantine is too brutal to be considered a cultist. A large chunk of his people don't like him, but he's very good at getting his way. He is equally at home in a society dinner or at a seaside throat slitting."

"Does he have any family?"

"None still living," Holbein told the inquisitive Colonel, "he never married, never had any serious relationships and if he had any children he never acknowledged them."

"Surely the man must have been in love at some point," Strader said, surprised, "There's so little recorded about the man himself. I'm just trying to get a feel for him."

"Well," Holbein said, "I don't have any personal knowledge of this, but at least some of it is true. Supposedly he had a real thing with a young girl back in the late 1960s. I don't remember her name now, but it was supposed to be hot and heavy between them."

"How young?" Strader asked.

"Probably enough to get him into trouble," Holbein shrugged, "I think she was about seventeen when they started. Supposedly things got hot and heavy in the criminal circuit around that time too. The girl was a wild child, and we had several wants on her."

"So what happened?"

"She got herself shot," Holbein told him, "robbery gone bad, one of our officers shot her twice. Now here's where the rumors come in. Supposedly she didn't die, but went into a coma."

"She's got to be dead by now," Strader said, lighting another cigarette after finishing his salad, "It's been at least thirty years!"

"Rumor has it that he still keeps her on life support," Holbein said, chuckling, "I don't know if it's true, but there never was a death certificate on the girl."

"That would explain a lot," Strader nodded, glad for the confirmation of what Jarvis had said earlier, "Extremely fixated on this girl then?"

"Very," Holbein said, "unofficially I've heard of him throwing millions down any genetic research outfit that will work with him."

Strader nodded and took a few bites of his salad.

"So why the military interest in Bolantine?" Holbein asked him, looking at the man, "Bolantine is a bad ass, but he usually stays clear of anything government related. Other than the usual criminal payoffs, he's one of the old school. I don't even think he deals much in the drug market."

"Who does the drugs here?" Holbein asked out of idle curiosity.

"The Columbian gangs usually," Holbein shrugged, "some Asian ones too I think. Not my area, thankfully."

"I was investigating a clinic we were funding for research," Strader explained to Holbein, "we had a mess with it out there and we found monetary traces to Bolantine's organization. Nothing we can prove to be illegal yet, but I figured we'd best find out what he was up to."

"So they sent you out here and put you up just to find out background," Holbein said, shaking his head, "Wish I could get my department to spend money like that."

"Congress is breathing down our necks," Strader explained, "if Bolantine is using them as a money laundering front we'd like to find out before congress does. In order to figure that out I need background on the pain in the ass."

"I'll have the secretarial pool print out a copy of the file for you in the morning," Holbein promised, "anything else you'd like me to answer."

"I'm sure I'll think of things through dinner," Strader said and then smiled, "The government is paying, so order something nice."

"I guess you feds are good for something after all," Holbein grinned and promptly ordered the Lobster.

## Chapter 69: Highway 94, Exit 157, Bismarck, ND

"I can't believe you let him pick up a hooker," Karen said in disgust as they followed Brian Ludovico to the little restaurant parking lot, "what if he gets something?"

"Then we'll be rid of him a lot sooner," Mason shrugged, "listen, he's going to have needs too and better he gets them satisfied this way than him falling in love with someone he's going to outlive."

"You really think we're immortal, don't you?" Karen said.

"I wouldn't bet against it at this point," Mason said, "of course, with our luck we'll die of a heart attack tomorrow, but you never know. If nothing else it will keep him in a good mood and out of our way."

"Think we'll find anything here?" Karen asked him.

"If it's her car, maybe."

"Big if," Karen grumped, "this is a mess. We don't even know where they're going."

"Seattle," Mason said, "there's no doubt they're going to Seattle now. That's the only reason to come through Bismarck."

"So why aren't we going straight there?" Karen asked him, "Why are we futzing around here?"

"Because if we get there first Bolantine can take him and run," Mason said, "Also, she's got such a head start on us that even if we drove 24/7 she'd still beat us there. This gives us a legitimacy that we wouldn't have had otherwise."

"I'm afraid he's going to use the serum," Karen said.

"Let's hope that he doesn't have enough," Mason said, "Besides, we have a bigger problem."

"Strader," Karen nodded, "what do we do about him?"

"Anything we can," Mason said, "right now we're more legitimate than he is, so we'll have an easier time moving around. Gabriel gave us the best cover we could hope for in this situation."

"Do you think there's any chance we can get there ahead of them?" Karen asked him.

"None," Mason said, "my guess is that they're making an end run. She knows she can sleep later."

"There's one thing that bothers me out of all of this," Karen said, "if we didn't send the hitters and Strader didn't, then who are they and how did they find them when we had no clue?"

"That is a good question," Mason said, "unless Bolantine has some internal strife going on."

"Looks like this is the place," Karen said, noticing that Ludovico had pulled into a parking lot.

"Let's find out what we can from the car," Mason shrugged, "then we'll get enough rest so we're not a danger on the road."

"Sounds like a plan," Karen said, "I am tired."

"And I've been driving all day," Mason said, "we'll let Jim have his fun and then we'll pick him up and get out of here."

Karen nodded and hopped out of the van. It was not too difficult to tell which car had been used in the roving battle, as the black Mercedes sported more holes than the average arm of Swiss cheese. Mason walked over and looked at it closely, recognizing it from the parking lot at Entragian's clinic.

"That's psycho chick's car all right," Mason said, "was there any registration information in it?"

"It traces back stolen," Ludovico said, "plates were clean but I ran the VIN and got a hit out of Boston. Probably laundered well."

"That fits," Mason said, "anything inside?"

"Two shells," the detective said, "they matched the ones in the motel room."

"Psycho chick was sloppy," Mason said, "I guess that was the only weapon she had."

"Who is this psycho chick you keep referring to?" Ludovico asked him.

"The woman traveling with him," Karen said, "we still don't have a name on her yet. She's the violent one though."

"Has your crime scene unit finished with the car?" Mason asked Ludovico.

"Yes," the detective nodded, "they checked it for hair, fiber and most other things. They didn't get deep into the seats yet though."

"There's a piece of paper underneath the seat," Karen said as she looked in the back, "got gloves?"

Ludovico put on a rubber glove and pulled the piece of paper out. It was a piece of fax paper, one that was recent and contained very little text. Ludovico didn't see any real meaning to it, so he passed it over to Mason.

"Elise," Mason read from the sheet, "initial payment deposited per instructions. The remainder will be paid when you and Kasta deliver the goods."

"Elise," Karen said, "I'd guess that's psycho chick's name."

"The fax has to be from Bolantine," Mason said, "I guess she's independent talent."

"Bolantine?" Ludovico said, "Who the hell is that."

"A crime boss from out west," Karen told him, "we think that he may be behind Sumner's flight."

"I'm not going to be able to solve these cases, am I?" Ludovico asked him.

"Probably not," Mason admitted, "Though if I find a full name and location on psycho chick I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate it," Ludovico said, "I just want to know where they went. We haven't had any reports of any stolen cars and they obviously beat it quick."

"Let me borrow your flashlight," Mason said and started scanning the parking lot.

"I don't think we're going to catch the bitch," Karen told Ludovico, "I think she'll either get away or get killed. One or the other."

"What's he looking for?" Ludovico asked her, "He seems pretty intent on finding something in this parking lot."

"I've given up trying to explain Mason," Karen said, "but he's probably got an idea."

"Come on over here," Mason told them.

Karen and Brian looked at each other and went over to look at what Mason was pointing the light at. His eyes were certainly as good as ever because he found two spent shell casings lying in the light layer of snow on the pavement. It didn't take an expert to see that they were perfect matches for the ones Elise had left in the motel room.

"She stole a car," Mason said, "probably found a traveler and killed him quickly, stuffing him in his own truck and using his car to get away."

"So they're long gone," Ludovico surmised, "well, I'll put out a want on the wire. But if they're out of the area the odds of us getting them back are slim to none."

"Another one for the slush pile," Mason agreed, "I don't think we're going to find anything else here."

"Pick up Jim and go?" Karen asked him.

"Let's go back to the motel and get a couple hours of sleep first," Mason said, "we'll pick him up and go around midnight or so."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Karen nodded.

"Where are you heading from here?" Ludovico asked them.

"We're going to follow I-94 west," Mason told him, "if psycho chick stole a car that way it's a good bet she ditched it before too long. My guess is that they're still heading for Seattle."

"If I hear anything do you want me to call you?" Ludovico asked him.

"Let Gabriel know," Mason said, not wanting to give the number to anyone else, "He'll pass it on to us if we need it. It's still his case, not ours."

"Right," Ludovico nodded, "need us to get you a room?"

"No," Mason said, shaking his head, "We've got a bed in the van. It'll be more comfortable than a motel bed."

"We need to empty the tank," Karen reminded him.

"There's an RV park ten miles down the interstate," Ludovico told them, "they should have facilities for waste."

"Good," Mason nodded, "we'll hit there on the way out."

## Chapter 70: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

Elise Steele popped a Dexedrine pill as she pulled the Mustang to a stop on the road outside the mansion. She'd been there once before on a routine job for her boss several years ago, but the circumstances had changed. She was tired, pissed and wanted her money.

"Any bets on what awaits us in there?" Elise asked Elliot.

"Bolantine wants this serum, has wanted it for years," Elliot said, "my guess is that someone is plotting against him."

"Has to be Alvin Christie," Elise said, "he's the only one who knew where we were in Bismarck."

"That's the creepy guy that works for Bolantine right?" Elliot said, "I think I met him once, years ago."

"He's just as creepy as ever," Elise said, "and if Bolantine is making this push it means he doesn't have much time left."

While they were mulling over the way to make their approach a couple of Mercedes quickly turned into the estate's driveway. Both Elise and Elliot recognized Alvin Christie in one of them, but only Elise recognized that there were hit teams in the cars.

"Shit," Elise said, "Alvin must know we're alive. He's making his move on Bolantine."

"We've got to get in there," Elliot said, "if we don't save him, we don't get paid."

"Fuck!" Elise cursed, "I want you to go around to the back of the property with the car. I'm going to go in. If nothing else I'm going to kill Alvin Christie for putting me in this situation."

"Right," Elliot nodded.

Elise almost hoped that Bolantine was dead, but her desire for money still outweighed the desire to kill both of them, though not by much. She took the pistol and the rifle she stole from the gun nut in Montana and loaded both, preparing a second clip for the rifle using the empty clip from the other rifle. She knew she had to be better armed than the opposition and had surprise, but eight to one was still damned bad odds.

She climbed the fence at the back and jumped into the well-manicured yard. She looked around and the training that Freddie had paid for came into play. She kept the rifle on ready and made her way to main building where she could watch the hit team go into the house.

Bolantine himself was sitting in his study when Alvin let the men into the house. He was reading one of his many books on medical science when the six large men interrupted him, led by the diminutive Alvin Christie.

"What the hell is this, Alvin?" Bolantine said, "Where are the guards?"

"I gave them the day off, Bolantine," Alvin smiled, "I think I'm going to give you the day off as well. Actually, I'm going to give you the rest of eternity off."

Alvin raised a pistol to Bolantine, who was only mildly surprised at the betrayal. Bolantine stood up, the mean old man not willing to go down as a doddering old fool. His withered face stared at the younger man.

"You think you can take me by force," Bolantine said, smiling, "You poor deluded fool."

"The guards are gone," Christie said, "I have control of the empire. I don't need you anymore."

"Oh yes," Bolantine said, "but you forgot something."

"What?" Christie asked.

"I didn't get to the top by resting on my laurels," Bolantine said and withdrew a pistol of his own, firing one poorly aimed shot that managed to hit Alvin in the arm. One of the thugs pulled his weapon, but Elise Steele had seen the display and fired off two shots from the rifle, taking down two of them.

"Fucker!" Alvin yelled and fired two shots into Bolantine.

Bolantine didn't have the reflexes he once did and couldn't get another shot off. Alvin watched his boss hit the floor and then watched a few bullets hit the wood just above his head.

"Bastard!" Elise yelled, "You did set me up!"

"Kill that bitch!" Alvin yelled, "Get her before she gets us!"

Elise fired a few more shots and then ducked down. Alvin ducked into the front hallway and debated on what to do next. The hitters started shooting at Elise's position, which she expected and prepared for by taking cover behind a very sturdy couch.

"Die asshole!" Elise yelled as she fired cover shots over the couch.

"Do we have enough equipment to take her on?" Alvin asked the hitters.

"Hell no," they said, "you said we were here to take out Bolantine, not a psycho woman with a rifle."

"Let's get out of here," Christie said, "use what you have to keep the bitch pinned down while we get out. Bolantine is dead, that's enough. Steele isn't worth it."

That pissed Elise off some more, so she fired a few more shots from the automatic rifle. The hitters fired shots at the back of the couch and retreated. Elise wasn't about to let them off that easily. She stood up and chased them down, taking a bullet in the left shoulder as she mowed down the rest of the guards.

Elise was in a rage and barely noticed the wound, so she continued.

"Damn!" Christie yelled as he tried to start the car he'd arrived in.

Elise walked over the bodies and stood in front of the car. Alvin Christie looked at her and tried to raise his weapon, but she was faster. Alvin's failed attempt at unseating the Bolantine criminal empire ended with Elise Steele emptying the remaining rounds from the M16 into his torso and head.

"And stay dead you scuzz!" Elise spat.

She went back into the house and checked Bolantine. She had to smile a little bit at the fact that the tough old bastard was still breathing despite having two bullets lodged in his abdomen. She almost admired the old crime lord, as much as she was able to admire anyone.

"What are you doing here?" Bolantine asked her and then looked closer, "Elise?"

"Delivering the package," Elise said, "he's outside. How bad are you hit?"

"It's bad," Bolantine rasped, "doctor in the back. Bring me to Nikki."

"Not until I get paid," Elise said, "where's my money?"

"In the safe," Bolantine croaked, "take me to Nikki and I'll give you the combination."

Elise stood up and looked around. She grabbed a rolling chair and roughly manhandled Bolantine into it. Following his instructions she brought him to the room where Nikki was wasting away.

"Open up!" Elise yelled.

"Who are..." The doctor yelled.

Elise didn't wait for him to finish before letting off a violent kick, taking the door off the hinges. The doctor jumped back, wishing that he'd quit this job long before. Elise looked at him and then at Nikki's inert body.

"You're the doctor, right?" Elise said, "Start working on your boss."

"What?" the doctor said, "Now?"

"Yes!" Elise said and turned to Bolantine, "And you'd better tell me the combination it before I shoot you again!"

"It's Nikki's Birthday," Bolantine said, "10-23-49."

"How bad is he?" Elise asked the doctor.

"Dying," the doctor said, "and fast. I don't know if I can prevent it. I mean he's old and taken two nasty shots to the stomach."

"Just keep him alive for a little while longer," Elise ordered, "after he completes this deal he's your problem."

She jogged out to the back of the property where Elliot was waiting with the Mustang. He was shocked at the sight of Elise, who looked more than a little crazy and had a little blood on her.

"Get in there," Elise said, "have you seen any flashing lights yet?"

"Not yet," Elliot said as he guided the car into the gate in first gear.

"Good," Elise said, "you and your slop are up to bat. Bolantine has been hit, so if you want to get paid you'd best use it on him."

"Shit," Elliot said, "how bad is he hit?"

"Thorax," Elise said, "two wounds. There's a doctor stopping the bleeding."

"Let's go," Elliot nodded.

They went into the house quickly and found the doctor and nurse loading Bolantine onto a stretcher. The old man was exceedingly pale and didn't look like he was going to live for very much longer. Elliot went over and took a pulse and looked at the man.

"Did you stop the bleeding?" Elliot asked the doctor.

"As much as I can," the doctor said, "who the hell are you?"

"Don't worry about that," Elise barked, "Elliot, do your thing. I've got something to do."

"Do you have IV kits?" Elliot asked the doctor.

"In here," he said and pulled them out while Elise left the room.

Elise poked at her shoulder wound and growled. Finding the safe was not difficult, as it was in Bolantine's office right behind one of the many pictures of Nikki Deseve. She dialed in the combination and took the cash. She was sure that it was at least enough and that Bolantine was in no position to argue.

While the doctors were working on Bolantine's bullet riddled body and applying the formula to him Elise partook in the gauze and iodine to clean the wound in her shoulder. She looked at them and decided it was time to get away.

"You're on your own from here," Elise told them, "I don't care what you do just don't follow me."

"But what about..." Elliot said to her back.

Elise Steele ignored him as she quickly left the building and went to the Mustang, climbing in and quickly driving out of the area. Elise Steele had done what she came to do and had no intention of staying in Seattle a minute longer than she had to. It was too hot in Seattle for her, much as she wanted to kill Elliot it wasn't worth her freedom. She had turned the block when Elliot started hearing sirens.

"Shit," Elliot grumbled, "do you have any trucks or anything here?"

"An ambulance downstairs," the nurse said, "for when Nikki needs to be moved."

"Go start it up," Elliot told her, "Doc, you and I are moving bodies. You push the girl, I'll take Bolantine."

"You move her and she's going to die," the doctor said, "She's been on the edge of it for ages."

"Start an IV on her too," Elliot instructed the doctor, "I can make more later."

Bolantine and Nikki were quickly loaded in the Ambulance and they left the residence with the lights flashing, passing quickly the approaching police cars who were rushing for the Mansion. Elliot breathed a sigh of relief as they drove away. He was also relieved to escape Elise Steele with his life.

## Chapter 71: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

Marcus Holbein walked up to the mansion for the first time in years. He'd been there on a warrant service ten years before, but it had been a much different place then. Bolantine was old even then, but his outfit had been a more vibrant collection of thugs. He'd been relatively quiet during the past decade.

"Looks like someone took down Alvin Christie," Marcus said as he observed the body, "maybe we'll get lucky and Bolantine will be dead inside."

"I don't think so," the officer said, "no word on him being there."

Marcus nodded and went up to the front door.

"Shit," Marcus said as he walked in, "I never expected to walk inside of this building again."

"Me either," Rob Strickland, the chief of detectives said, "You up for taking this case?"

"I might as well," Marcus shrugged, "I've been doing org crime for years. Is Bolantine among the victims?"

"Not that I've seen," Strickland shrugged, "I just got here myself. I heard reports of gunfire from up here and decided to find out what's going on."

"Too much Bolantine activity this week," Marcus said, "something out of the ordinary is going on."

"What else has the old coot been up to?" Strickland wondered, "He's been quiet for most of the last twenty years. Mellowed with age, I guess."

"That man didn't mellow," Marcus said, "he's been into some shit back east. I had a military guy buy me dinner last night for background info on him. Now this. Something really strange is happening."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and Bolantine is dead somewhere in the house," Strickland said.

"He's like a bad penny," Marcus grumbled, "I don't think we're going to find him among the corpses."

"Do you know either of these suckers?" Strickland asked as he walked around the bodies.

"Jack the Keymaker," Holbein said, looking at the face, "Syndicate man, which sector I don't know. Alvin Christie is the corpse outside, I don't remember the other names off hand, but they're definitely syndicate men."

"Looks like there was a full scale battle in this room," one of the officers said, "this couch is riddled with bullet holes."

"There's a whole pile of brass," Strickland said, "looks like rifle shells."

"Nato shells," Marcus said, picking one up with a pencil, "Probably from an M16. Serious firepower here, though it either wasn't fully auto or the user knew what he was doing."

"Probably one of the semi-auto jobs the collectors can buy," Strickland shrugged, "common enough and they are still legal."

"Either that or a pre-ban weapon," Marcus said, "have we found any of the weapons yet?"

"We found an empty rifle downstairs," one of the officers said, "all the corpses are armed too."

"Get CSI on that when they get here," Marcus instructed the young officer, "I want any prints you find here cross matched in the computer ASAP."

"On it," the officer said.

"Marcus!" Strickland yelled from in back, "You need to come see this. Now!"

Marcus Holbein walked to the back room and was surprised by the sheer amount of medical equipment. He had seen hospitals that were not this well equipped. It was not your average home setup, but the duplicate of a full-scale hospital ward equipped with two beds.

"Take a look at the file," Strickland said, "I guess the rumors were true."

"Nikki Deseve is still alive," Marcus said, "I told that story as a joke last night. Who the hell thought it was true?"

"The bigger question is where she is," Strickland said, "there's no sign of the body."

"This gets just weirder and weirder," Marcus said, "I want an APB out on Bolantine and anyone you can figure out is missing. Is CSI here yet?"

"They're pulling prints off the equipment in here now," one officer said, "anything else?"

"Coffee," Marcus said finally, "I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while."

## Chapter 72: Mason's Van, I-90 West, Coeur d'Alene, ID

"Where are we?" Jim asked as he sat up, "And why am I not still in bed with that woman?"

"That was twelve hours ago, Jim," Mason chuckled, "signs say we're about to go through Coeur d'Alene."

"Where the hell is that?" Jim asked.

"Idaho," Mason said as he fumbled a cigarette out of the pack and lit up, "we've been on the go since we picked you up."

"Have you been driving that whole time?" Jim asked him.

"Karen spelled me for a few hours this morning," Mason shrugged, "about time for her to do it again too."

"Sure you don't want me to drive for a bit?" Jim asked him.

"Not until I test your reflexes and such," Mason said, "we don't have the time to do it right now. We need to get to Seattle."

"How far out are we?"

"Shouldn't be but about five more hours," Mason said, "care to roust Karen and find out what she wants to eat?"

"Sure," Jim nodded and climbed back.

Jim did not even make it to the bed before Karen threw a pillow at him. Jim pondered trying to go further back, but figured he'd let Mason do it if it needed to be done. He did not know what else she had back there to throw.

"I think she wants to sleep," Jim told Mason, "she threw a pillow at me."

"I guess I can drive for a bit longer," Mason sighed, "there's a Wendy's off the exit though. I think it's time for more grease and ketchup."

"You haven't checked the phone for a while either," Jim said.

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "I'll drive for another hour or two. Karen will have to take the last leg so I'm not completely out of it when we get there."

Mason pulled off the exit and found the Wendy's rather quickly. He stopped the van in the parking lot and stepped out into the cold air, something his body was not quite prepared for, as he had not been out of the vehicle in hours.

"Man," Mason said and tossed the cigarette out on the ground, "why the hell couldn't Bolantine have operated out of somewhere warm?"

"Want me to get the food?" Jim asked him.

"Yeah," Mason nodded, "get me a couple cheeseburgers, and don't forget the extra ketchup."

"Got it," Jim said.

Mason continued walking around the parking lot and getting the circulation going in his legs again as he turned on the telephone and waited for it to get service. He was about to hit the voicemail button when it started ringing, surprising the hell out of him.

"Hello?" Mason said as he pushed talk.

"Jesus," Chris Gabriel said, "I wasn't expecting to get anyone answering."

"I just turned it on to check messages," Mason explained, "what's going on?"

"They found a body in Butte this morning," Gabriel said, "ranch worker named Robinette, two shots to the head and dumped in his trunk. Prints in the car matched Elliot."

"If Elliot was there, so was Psycho Chick," Mason said, "we've already passed Butte. We're going to continue on to Seattle."

"Good," Gabriel agreed, "because he's already there. Seattle police pulled Elliot's prints off some medical equipment there."

"How the hell did they find him so quick?" Mason asked, "And why did they get print work so fast?"

"Bolantine's mansion," Gabriel said, "some serious shit is going on there and I have a feeling it has to do with Elliot's arrival. Several corpses and a whole lot of bullet holes."

"Forlorn hope that Elliot and Bolantine were among them?" Mason asked hopefully.

"No sign," Gabriel said, "you might want to come up with a contingency plan in case Elliot gets it to work on Bolantine."

"I'm thinking about a nice deep hole somewhere," Mason told him, "I've got to get there first."

"Where are you?" Gabriel asked him, "I told the locals in Seattle I'd be sending someone. Might as well be you."

"I'm sitting in front of a Wendy's in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho," Mason said, "Jim is inside getting food and Karen is still asleep. I figure we'll probably be in Seattle around five or so, depending on the weather."

"Holbein will be expecting you," Gabriel promised, "I'll call him after I get off the phone with you."

"Leave the contact information on the voice mail," Mason said, "I'll check it when we pull into Seattle."

"Roger," Chris agreed, "good luck, Mason."

"I'll need it," Mason said and clicked off the phone.

Mason lit another cigarette and walked around more until Jim came out with the bag full of food. They went into the van and Mason started it up again before tearing into one of the cheeseburgers. He looked at Jim and saw that Jim had questions.

"Any word?" Jim asked him.

"Elliot is in Seattle," Mason said, "probably got there this morning."

"No surprise there, right?" Jim asked him.

"No," Mason agreed, "but it's looking bad. The local cops think he's with Bolantine and both of them are missing. We need to get there quick."

"Want me to wake up Karen?" Jim asked, "I failed once, but I don't think I'll fail again."

"I'll do it after we fill this puppy up with gas," Mason said, finishing the hamburger, "I have a job for you though. I want you to try to use what little memory you have left and come up with a possible way to destroy this shit."

"I'll try," Jim promised, "I make no promises."

"There are no promises to make at this point," Mason agreed, "now let's go."

## Chapter 73: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

"Adam," Colonel Strader said into the phone, "how is the recovery operation going?"

"Slow," Adam said, "Mason made one hell of a mess here. So far the videocassette is the only really recoverable piece of evidence we've found. I've got a computer expert working on the remains of the PC's though."

"Anymore interference from the locals?"

"Not since they destroyed the bodies," Adam said, "I've been asking him for any reports he gets on his APB, but he hasn't been particularly forthcoming."

"You can bet that Mason has been getting the information," Richard groused, "go in there and use force if you have to. I need to know where they are."

"I've gone one better," Adam said with a smug tone, "since this isn't particularly legal in the first place I went ahead and had Gabriel's phone tapped."

"Anything good?" Richard said, impressed with his son's forethought.

"He's in contact with Mason," Adam said, "Elliot is in Seattle too. Evidently something happened at the Bolantine mansion and Elliot's fingerprints were found."

"Figures," Strader said, "is Mason working alone?"

"No," Adam said, "that's the most intriguing part. It looks like Gabriel did more than just destroy bodies. He hid two serum recipients."

"Say what?" Richard said, sitting bolt upright, "Who?"

"The girl that was kidnapped from the cancer ward," Adam told his father, "it seems she's alive and working with Mason. She's the missing link in the clinic."

"You said two," Richard pondered, "one of the bodies?"

"Entragian got dosed somehow," Adam said, "evidently his head regenerated."

"Hot damn!" Richard exclaimed, "So there's more than one person who knows how to make it!"

"That's unknown," Adam said, "on the phone Mason said something about Entragian having undergone a 12 gauge attitude adjustment. His brain had been destroyed. He may not have any knowledge of the serum anymore."

"Can we use the phone to track Mason?" Richard asked hopefully.

"He calls from a different number each time," Adam said, "I managed to get a hold of his file. He was a runner and a damn good one. He knows how to cover his tracks. Gabriel is a sitting target. Mason is still moving."

"I'll deal with him later," Richard said, "I need to find Elliot if possible. That man is an amoral son of a bitch, but he's in over his head. If I can pull him out of Bolantine's clutches then I have a chance of getting him to work for us."

"Be careful," Adam admonished, "Bolantine is a nasty character."

"I will," Richard promised, "keep up the good work there. I'll let you know if I get anything."

"Right," Adam said, "call me if you need me to come out there. There's not much more I can do from here."

"Keep monitoring Gabriel," Richard told him, "if you get anything I need to know leave a message at the Edgewater's front desk and I'll call you."

"Gabriel could easily be charged with treason," Adam suggested, "might even be able to keep it quiet."

"Not worth it," Richard sighed, "he's made his choice to work with Mason, but if we call him on that fact it'll open a whole legal can of worms. Especially since Entragian and Sumner's research was illegal in the first place."

"Right," Adam agreed, "I'll call if I hear anything."

Richard put down the phone and sighed. He was in an untenable position, one he did not want to be in. He was alone in the field and could not bring other people in due to the security aspects. He sat down at his computer and decided to make a call.

"Jarvis?" Richard asked on the phone, "I've got a favor I need to ask you. Can you get me a replacement sidearm? I couldn't get mine on the plane..."

## Chapter 74: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

"Any movement out of them?" The doctor asked Elliot.

"Not yet," Elliot said, "but they've only been on it for a few hours now. It took the first test subject nearly four days to wake up. The girl took a good bit of time too."

"What the hell is this stuff?" the doctor asked Elliot, "It is doing wonders for them. Nikki is breathing on her own for the first time since I've been working on her."

"It's something I've been working on for years," Elliot smiled, "we call it FTU-237."

"Will it work?" the doctor asked him.

"Just a matter of letting FTU-237 take hold in their immune system," Elliot said, "it'll either happen or they will die. Nothing we can do about it."

"So what do we do now?" the doctor asked him, still looking at the bodies.

"Wait," Elliot shrugged, "we can't get paid until we wake this son of a bitch up. This warehouse should be safe for a while. I'll go out for food in a bit, I think I saw a fast food place down the way."

"So we sit with the corpses and wait for Bolantine or Nikki to wake up?" the doctor asked him.

"Bolantine," Elliot corrected, "I could care a rat's ass about whether the girl wakes up. She's been dead too long to know where to get the money."

"Then what?" The doctor said.

"We'll figure it out if he wakes up," Elliot groused, "now I haven't had shit for sleep in the past week. I'm going to catch a nap in the ambulance. Wake me up if he stirs."

Bolantine was not as far out of it as he looked though. The wounds in his stomach still burned like they were on fire, but he could tell the serum was working on him. He knew that he would have to stay still for a while to ensure that they did not try anything funny. Time was on his side, so he willed himself to stay motionless, trusting that the serum worked properly. If it did not, he would not have to worry about anything again.

## Chapter 75: I-90 West, Entering Seattle, Seattle, WA

"Jim," Karen said as she looked at the signs, "looks like we're about to get into Seattle. Better go wake up Mason."

"Let him get a few more minutes," Jim said, "I can check the mail on the phone."

"You know how to work the thing?" Karen asked him.

"Yeah," Jim said, "I probably had one at some point. Damned if I can remember where."

"You know," Karen chuckled, "this would probably rewrite a whole pile of psychology and neurology books if we went public with what happened to you."

"No thanks," Jim said as he punched the numbers, "I don't have any particular urge to be a test subject."

"So do you have any ideas for the future yet?" Karen asked him, wondering what was going through his mind.

"I don't know," Jim admitted, "this is all so new. I'm not even sure I know who I am yet."

"You've existed for about two days," Karen smiled, "most of it in this damned van. It'll come with time. You just have to keep a center and think of good and bad."

Jim nodded and took a few notes from the message Gabriel left, turning off the phone just like the procedures he remembered but had no idea how. Gabriel had gotten through and managed to get them placed with Holbein.

"We're in," Jim told her, "I've got the directions here."

"Good," Karen nodded.

They drove for a few more minutes before Karen decided to talk to him again.

"So did you have fun with that girl?" Karen asked him.

"It was fun," Jim said, smiling, "A taste of life that I haven't gotten before."

"I never could understand the philosophy of that," Karen sighed, "paying some poor little girl to ride your dick. No challenge, no love. Just raw fucking."

"Beats nothing," Jim shrugged, "I treated her well and she knew what she was getting in to. Why shouldn't we make a mutually beneficial arrangement?"

"But what about love, passion?" Karen asked him, "How will you ever know that with hookers?"

"I may not," Jim said, "but it beats being alone. How do you think I feel watching you and Mason?"

"I know," Karen sighed, "this is a mess. You are even more screwed than we are. But sleeping with someone you do not even know. It's not sanitary!"

"You're sleeping with Mason," Jim countered, "you haven't known him for very long either. At least I know my reasons for sleeping with that girl. I was horny. Why are you with him?"

Karen stopped and thought about that. She had not known Mason for but a day before the first time they slept together. Granted, the situation was not the standard one, but she did not know Mason a whole lot more than Jim did that girl.

"I guess you're right in a way," Karen told him, "I'm in no position to criticize you for doing what you need to do to get through the day."

"How about you and Mason?" Jim asked her, "Do you love him?"

"I think I do," Karen admitted, "he brings out something in me that even my husband couldn't do back before the cancer took me down. Whether it's love or just the fact that I need him right now, I don't know. This a whole lot to digest in just a few days."

"I have dreams," Jim told her, "I don't know if they are of my past life or just of what I imagine I was like given the little bit I know."

"I wish I could help more," Karen smiled, "I used to do this stuff for a living, but becoming immortal has really screwed my perspective up on my former profession."

"At least you and Mason are going through it too," Jim said, "that helps."

"Ok," Karen grinned, "I just have one question about the little slut, and then I'll shut up about it."

"Shoot," Jim chuckled.

"How did you know how to make a deal like that?" Karen asked him, "Is there a sort of etiquette to it?"

Jim just started laughing as soon at that one. Karen wondered what was so funny until she realized just what she asked, and she started laughing as well. When they finished Jim actually answered her question.

"I think James must have done it before," Jim said, "I saw her and knew exactly what she was. I couldn't find anything relevant, so I figured I'd get a hummer."

"Do the girls at least use protection nowadays?" Karen wondered, "Sorry, I know I said I'd stop."

"Sure," Jim shrugged, "didn't you?"

Karen's eyes widened at that thought and Jim knew that she had not been. Jim knew from the medical knowledge he retained that what had happened to them had to be the result of some form of genetic mutation, which could make having a child dangerous to both her and the child.

"Fuck," Karen said, "we never even thought about it. It just happened."

"We need a microscope," Jim said, "there's a chance that given the amount of cellular disruption we're experiencing we may be sterile."

"We need to know," Karen said, "you know how to make the test?"

"Sure," Jim nodded, "I can't make one on you without a hospital, but I can do one on Mason and myself."

"Where can we get a microscope?" Karen asked him.

"Target," Jim said, "they usually have stuff like that. We don't need a superpower one, just a good one from a science kit."

"We've got the money," Karen said, "I don't think another half hour will kill us in getting to Holbein, do you?"

"Especially since we need to know," Jim said, "get us down there. I'll wake up Mason and tell him what we're doing."

"Word of advice?" Karen said as Jim stood to wake Mason.

"Sure," he said.

"When you first stir him," Karen suggested, "duck."

"Right," Jim chuckled and went back to wake up Mason, getting a well aimed pillow in the face, knocking him backward onto the floor.

"I told you to duck," Karen told him, chuckling as she parked the van.

"One of these days I'll learn to listen to you," Jim grunted.

"Ok," Mason said as he pulled himself out of bed, "are we in Seattle?"

"Just inside the city limits," Karen said, "we have the directions to where we need to go."

"Then why are we here?" Mason asked her.

"We may have another problem," Karen said, "Jim and I have been talking. What if I became pregnant when you and I..."

Mason paled at that thought. Karen saw that it had not entered his head either. He looked at her and was scared as hell. He knew he had failed miserably as a father the first time, he was not sure he could do it again.

"What do you want to do?" Mason asked her.

"Buy a microscope," Jim said, "I know what to look for. There's a good chance we may be sterile."

"Let's hope so," Mason said, "I don't think I want to be a father again at sixty."

"Ditto," Karen agreed, "so let's get the microscope."

"I'll go," Jim said and went to the cabinet, pulling out a plastic cup, "You'd best get busy, Mason. Maybe you can con Karen into helping you."

"Thanks," Mason chuckled, "what do you think, Karen? Care to help?"

"Sure," Karen smiled, "least I can do is help since it affects both of us."

"I'm going to be sick," Jim said, "and I think I'd best get a magazine to aid my own testing."

"See you in a few," Karen said with a wicked smile, "No need to hurry..."

## Chapter 76: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

"I got your message, General," Richard Strader said over the phone, "what do you need?"

"The doctors are going nuts over what you found," General Moreland told him, "have you made any progress on finding Elliot Sumner?"

"Elliot is here," Richard told him, "but I have to be rather circumspect about what I'm doing here. The last thing we need is to have this publicized."

"That's for sure," Moreland agreed, "is Adam working out well for you?"

"He's the reason I have most of the information I have," Strader told him, "kid is industrious. He also has the local sheriff bugged."

"What the hell does he have to do with it?" Moreland asked him.

"It's a mess," Strader said, "I could use a team of people with this one."

"Out of the question," Moreland said firmly, "I'm having trouble enough explaining you and the team in Boland Creek. I've got various congressmen chewing my ass up and down the Potomac. You're going to have to go it alone."

"I'll do it," Strader said, "but this is insane."

"This whole situation is insane," Moreland told him, "just try to intercept Sumner if you can. If you can stop the others it'll be a bonus, but I don't expect miracles. We can get them later."

"Anything else you wanted to know?" Strader asked him.

"Nothing I need right now," Moreland said, "just a usable formula."

Moreland clicked off the phone and left Strader hanging there. He knew he needed more people, especially if Bolantine was involved.

## Chapter 77: I-90 West, Target Parking Lot, Seattle, WA

"Ok," Karen said, tapping her foot impatiently, "What are you finding so interesting in there."

"You didn't use a condom or anything did you?" Jim asked them.

"If we had we wouldn't be taking the time for this now," Mason said, "now spit it out."

"Take a look for yourself," Jim told him, sliding the microscope to him, "See if you can find anything out of whack with this picture."

"I've been a cop for more almost forty years, Jim," Mason said, "I know precisely nothing about medicine."

"Trust me," Jim said, "take a look."

Mason sighed and looked into the microscope, adjusting the focus so he could see it properly. He looked at it and then looked at Jim again. Karen looked at the both of them trying to figure out what was bugging them.

"This can't be right," Mason said, "I've seen enough presentations to know that sperm aren't supposed to be that shape."

"Or that dead," Jim said, "there is no motion at all. Those suckers have about as much chance of causing a pregnancy as John Denver does in getting a renewal on his pilot's license."

"Huh?" Karen said, not having been around for that.

"John Denver died in a plane crash a while back," Mason explained to her, "is yours the same way, Jim?"

"Same shape and just as dead," Jim nodded, "I don't think either of us ever have to worry about fatherhood ever again. Unless it did something really weird to her reproductive system, I'd say the likelihood is that we're all very sterile."

"About time we got some good news," Karen said, "now to go deal with the more pressing issues."

"You have the directions to get to Holbein?" Mason asked Jim.

"Sure," Jim nodded, "according to the map it's only a few miles away."

"Let's go find out what's going on," Mason said, "I'll drive from here."

"Be my guest," Karen agreed, moving into the back and kicking back on the bed, "I'll rest a few minutes."

"I probably should stay out of the way," Jim said, "if Elliot is around he'll recognize me."

"I want to keep the world in the dark on you," Mason agreed, "Karen and I will go in when we get there."

"What name do we use?" Karen asked him.

"I'm going to continue using Stone," Mason told her, "you can continue with it or choose something else."

"I think I'll go with the alternate," Karen said, "Hall, I think it was. Nice and non-descript. Just like we're supposed to be."

"Anything you want me to do?" Entragian asked him.

"Start reading," Mason said and pointed at the stack of manuals in a box, "I want you to learn the ins and outs of this computer. One of us should be better than average on it and since you'll be spending a bit of time here it may as well be you."

"I like computers," Jim nodded, "and it beats sitting bored here."

"You do have an important job," Mason said, "if Strader's people make a move and take us you are to bust this wide open. Find the nearest news outlet and spill it. The confusion may give us a chance to get out."

"You got it," Jim agreed, "so shall we get this over with?"

"The sooner we get this serum destroyed," Karen nodded, "the sooner we get to take a vacation somewhere with the rest of Jim's money."

"Thanks," Jim said and threw a potato chip at Karen.

"Ok now, Children," Mason chuckled, "let's go."

## Chapter 78: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

The young doctor woke up from his cot in the ambulance and stood up to find Elliot sitting in a chair poking at both Bolantine and Nicole Deseve. He stretched out a little and walked over to where the stretchers were set up.

"What's so interesting?" The doctor asked him.

"This is the third time I've seen this process," Elliot said, "and it's fucking incredible."

"So how did you do it?" Doc said and then thought better of it, "On second thought. I don't think I want to know."

"Take a look at them now," Elliot said, "the serum has taken hold. There is no stopping it now."

The doctor looked at Bolantine's face and was shocked. He still had the hair of an old man, but his face was rapidly losing its age. Then he took a closer look at the body and wondered what he had gotten himself into.

"That's incredible," The doctor said, "how long does it last?"

"It's permanent," Elliot said, "it changes the body's molecular structure."

"Damn," he said, "you mean you're really making them younger?"

"Age is merely a degradation of the body's cellular structure," Elliot smiled, "what our serum did was teach the cells how not to die."

"Sounds too simple," The doctor said, "there's got to be a catch."

"The process takes a lot of materials, most of which are closely held by the federal government. They're probably trying to get this too."

"And you're the only one who knows how to make it?" The doctor asked him.

"I'm it," Elliot confirmed, "one of the test subjects back at the institute killed the only other person who knew the full formula."

"Any change in Nikki?" The nurse asked them as she stood up and walked over, "Think it'll do any good on her?"

"A few less lines," Elliot shrugged, "I don't know if her brain is going to come back. Looks like she's been brain dead for years."

"Let them lie for a while," The doctor suggested, "I'm interested to see where this will go."

"The pursuit of science is always a fun one," Elliot agreed and then returned to poking the bodies.

## Chapter 79: Bolantine Mansion, Seattle, WA

"Who the hell is he, Marcus?" Rob Strickland asked him, "He seems to be very interested in the hospital room."

"He's the military guy I told you about," Marcus Holbein told his boss, "he was very keen on seeing this place and I figured it couldn't hurt to make some positive overtures with the army. Might help us next time we have a problem with the armed forces personnel around here."

"He knows to keep his mouth shut, right?" Strickland asked.

"He's got a higher security clearance than we do," Marcus shrugged, "the request came directly from the department of defense too. I really am not in the mood to piss them off, especially since CSI has already been through here."

"Any word from those people from back east?" Strickland said, "You said you expected them tonight."

"Any time now," Marcus said as he looked around, "they called about ten minutes ago, said they were on their way here."

That seemed to satisfy Robert Strickland. Marcus simply shook his head at his boss, knowing that the man had no real reason to be on this crime scene. The bodies were gone and Bolantine himself was still nowhere to be found. Marcus welcomed the interruption telling him that there was a white van outside.

Marcus Holbein walked out to the edge of the property to meet the van. He watched as the van parked over by the edge of the lot near a couple of police cars. Marcus walked over and was surprised by the look of the two people who hopped out of the van.

Mason was still wearing the leather jacket he'd swiped in Boland Creek, while Karen was wearing a set of Walmart specials, picked up during their brief stop in Chicago. Neither one looked like they had slept much, though that didn't disguise the look of youth that permeated both of them.

"Mason Stone?" Marcus asked them.

"I'm Mason," he nodded, "this is my partner, Karen Hall."

"Sheriff Gabriel warned me you looked young," Marcus chuckled, "I guess I wasn't prepared for it."

"We get that a lot," Mason said, chuckling, "We do the job though."

"Did you drive from Illinois?" Marcus asked him as they walked towards the house.

"New York actually," Mason grinned, "we've been chasing this son of a bitch for days."

"Do you ever sleep?" Marcus asked them, surprised.

"It's been a long week," Karen acknowledged, "we took turns, one drove while the other slept."

"You can have that," Marcus told them, "this is where we found the first body."

The three of them walked through the snowy lot towards the car Alvin Christie died in. Marcus pointed things out and then asked the obvious question in regards to Elliot Sumner.

"Why did they drive?" Marcus wondered, "They could have been here in less than twelve hours if they'd just flown."

"We've had wants out for him since he hightailed it," Mason told him, "if he had tried to fly we would have had him by the time he hit the ground at SeaTac."

"So he's fairly good?" Marcus asked him.

"He's an idiot," Mason chuckled, "it's the bitch that's carting him around that is good. She knew better than to fly with him."

"I don't pretend to understand how this started," Marcus said, "do you think our cases are related?"

"Probably," Mason said, "Bolantine was funding the project. We think psycho chick was bringing the man to Bolantine."

"Hmmm," Marcus said, "come on in and look at this scene and see if it's consistent."

Mason and Karen nodded and followed the detective into the building and were fascinated by the battle zone they saw when they walked in. Mason looked around and recreated it in his mind like he had done at so many crime scenes over the years. Despite the milling about by the various police officials it was not hard for him to recreate.

"The bodies were done by a single shooter," Mason said, "probably our girl. Elliot doesn't have the training to do it."

Mason walked over to the turned over couch and looked at the holes in it. He knelt down and looked at the spray of bullet holes on the wall. He knew instinctively that this was where Elise had fired the shots that killed the two men.

"Only thing we can't explain is this stain here," Holbein said, pointing out the spot where Bolantine had been hit, "It doesn't look like this crew had time to get their wounded. So who was this?"

"Probably Bolantine," Mason said, "I take it there's no sign of him around here."

"We have nothing to compare with," Marcus told him, "but that's as good a bet as any. It looks like Alvin Christie tried a palace revolt and it backfired."

"Do you have names on them?" Karen asked, trying to make herself look like a part of this.

"We have a folder for you," Marcus said, "I had them put it together when we found out you were coming."

"I appreciate it," Mason said, "I just hope we can actually add something to your investigation."

"You can tell me what Bolantine was funding this time," Holbein told him, "we're still trying to figure out what connection there is."

"Medical research," Mason said, "a particularly lethal kind. Several corpses at a research clinic and we found links to Bolantine."

"Jesus," Holbein said, "that son of a bitch has been quiet for years and then all of a sudden I have two groups asking about him. The next day his mansion is shot up. What the hell is going on with this picture?"

"Two groups?" Mason asked, getting a bad feeling.

"A Colonel came in with information even more sketchy than yours," Holbein said, "he's in the other room. Only reason we let him in was a direct request from the department of defense."

Mason and Karen looked at each other and their faces said it all. The last thing they were expecting was to run head on to Richard Strader here. Karen looked into his eyes and silently asked him what he wanted to do.

"Which other room?" Mason asked, regaining his composure.

"The hospital room," Marcus said, "I take it you know him."

"We know of Colonel Strader," Mason said, "we have yet to have the pleasure of meeting him."

"Sounds like you're working on the same project from different ends," Marcus said, "he came into town yesterday and bought me dinner to tell him about Bolantine. Good one too, but then compared to my wife's cooking everything is good nowadays."

"By all means," Mason said, a mischievous smile coming over his face, "Let's meet the good Colonel."

"This way," Marcus said.

"Are you mad?" Karen went over and whispered in Mason's ear as they walked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It was inevitable," Mason said, "might as well do it where he can't make a fuss. We're legal right now. He's not."

"I hope you're right," Karen said to him, looking worried.

"He's not going to try anything with this many people around," Mason said, "if he had a cadre with him I'd be more worried. It sounds like he's alone."

They didn't have time to say anymore as they entered the hospital room. The room they had walked into surprised Mason and Karen. It was obvious that someone had been very well cared for in there for a long time. Karen especially knew that this hospital room had seen some heavy use.

Colonel Strader had been looking through some of the files on the shelf in the room, most of them having already been picked over by the CSI people as they looked for any physical evidence at all.

"So it is true," Strader said as he heard the footsteps, "the girl was alive as of a few days ago."

"The rumors are true," Marcus agreed, "Nicole Deseve didn't die in 1969 like everyone thought."

"That explains a lot, doesn't it Colonel?" Mason said.

"It sure does..." Strader said and then looked up to see Mason and Karen, "Who are your friends there, Detective?"

"I see you made it here before we did, Colonel," Mason said, "perhaps it's time we met."

Strader looked closely at Mason and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. The hair was different and there was no facial hair, but the face was definitely the one he had seen on the tape from Entragian's clinic.

"Well," Strader said, "Mr. Stone isn't it?"

"That's right," Mason said extending a hand to the military man, "perhaps we need to compare notes."

"Right," Karen said, taking a cue, "Could you show me where the other weapon was found, Detective Holbein?"

"Sure," Holbein said, "looks like they need to talk."

Mason and Strader waited for Karen and Marcus to leave the room before approaching each other. It was hard for Strader to keep it in his head that he was dealing with someone who had even more experience in the world than he did. Mason looked younger than his own son did at this point.

"You look pretty good for a corpse," Strader noticed, "I am assuming you are Trip Mason."

"Was," Mason said simply, "Trip Mason died when Robert Kasta shot him."

"What's stopping me from getting you arrested?" Strader asked him, "You're interfering in a national security matter."

"You arrest me here," Mason smiled, "you'll have to explain why. As far as anyone is concerned here I'm completely legal."

"Gabriel paved the way for you, I'm sure," Strader said, sitting down on the hospital bed, "Nice trick by the way, getting him to cremate the bodies."

"Getting him to do it?" Mason chuckled, "I helped his people do it. Karen and I fed the bodies into the incinerator ourselves."

"So where is Entragian?" Strader asked him, "Hiding in the van?"

"What do you mean?" Mason asked, wondering how Strader found out about him, "Karen shot Entragian back in Boland Creek."

"Don't bullshit me," Strader told him, "what do you think you're doing here?"

"Trying to stop that shit from getting out," Mason said, "you obviously know what it does."

"I know you want to be the only one," Strader said, "I'm not going to let you take it."

"You're really baked, Strader," Mason said, "I don't have the formula. I don't want it either."

"So why are you trying to find Elliot so badly?"

"To remove the last link with the serum," Mason said, "nobody should have been afflicted with this stuff. My goal is to make sure nobody else can be."

"And leave yourself with Entragian," Strader frowned, "any plans for world domination? Do you really think that you can get away with it?"

"I've got enough problems," Mason told the Colonel, "the world can go to hell in a hand basket without me. I intend to disappear once Elliot is gone."

"Just retire to an island in the South Pacific?" Strader laughed, "I don't believe it for a minute."

"And just what are you planning on doing with it?" Mason asked him, "Feel free to enlighten me as to the beneficial use our government would put this formula to."

"No more dying in wars," Strader said, "bones heal immediately. The applications are unlimited."

"The population would just go out of control," Mason said, "you've seen the tape, but you don't know how it works. This isn't a temporary change. Look at me, Strader. This is a permanent shift in the molecular structure of my body. We don't know if this will ever go away. Do you know how big a mess that will make?"

"If we don't get it someone else will," Strader reminded him, "I'd rather it be us."

"No one has to get it," Mason told him, "all you have to do is work with me and we can put it down."

"I can't do that," Strader said, shaking his head, "My duty is to god and country."

"Admirable," Mason smiled, "but I don't think either one would want anything to do with this. That's why you're here alone. The brass are so afraid that word will get out about what you found that they won't let you bring in enough people to take it over properly, leaving you here on your own without backup."

Strader's face paled at that one, confirming to Mason what he had previously only suspected. Strader really was alone on this one, probably having left son in charge of the cleanup back in Boland Creek. Mason simply shook his head in disgust.

"You're in over your head, Colonel," Mason said, "the people you're going to be dealing with are bad. I may oppose you, but I'm not going to kill you. Bolantine won't give you that luxury."

"I suppose not," Strader admitted.

"We could work together on this," Mason said, "remove this stuff from the sphere of human existence before it destroys us all."

"I can't do that," Strader said, shaking his head.

"I didn't think so," Mason said with a smile, "I suppose we're going to have to remain competitors."

"I could have you brought down for treason you know," Strader told him.

"You could try," Mason agreed, "I'd like to see how you explain the fact that I'm still alive."

"Seems we have a nice Mexican Standoff then," Strader said, gritting his teeth a little.

"I think we're leaving," Mason said, shaking his head, "I don't think you'll raise a fuss, not here."

"We'll find you," Strader told him, "you have to know that. You can't run from us forever."

"Maybe," Mason agreed, "but if we remove Elliot then it's immaterial. You can study us from here to kingdom come and you might figure out how to do it. That's provided we sit still for testing, which I don't have any intention of doing."

"You can't keep it under wraps forever," Strader told him, trying to talk him into giving up, "Someone is going to get it. Why shouldn't it be us?"

"Nobody needs this," Mason said, "this is probably the most destructive discovery since the atom bomb. If you could have taken that invention back, would you have?"

"Of course," Strader said, "But to equate this..."

"It's the same thing," Mason said, "I'm just trying to do what Einstein and Oppenheimer should have done back in the 1940's."

"It's only a temporary fix," Strader said.

"Maybe so," Mason admitted as he turned to leave the room, "but I have to try. You can try to stop me. I hope you finally get some sense and help, or at least not impede me."

Mason turned and walked out of the room. Strader considered following him, but knew that Mason had the upper hand on this one. If he tried to stop Mason here he knew that he would blow the whole project. He finished up with the file he was looking at and started to walk out.

"This is where we found everything," Marcus Holbein told Karen, "we're still looking for the ambulance."

"Detective Holbein," Mason said as he approached, "Did you figure out who the corpses were working for?"

"We've been looking for that information all day," Holbein told him, "we know they're connected. They used to work for Chuckie Carlino, but we haven't been able to get a thing out of him. My guess is that since Christie fucked up he's probably still trying to figure out what to do."

"Lawyered up, eh?" Mason said, "Figures. Isn't that the way these pricks always work?"

"They finally let him go an hour ago," Holbein said, "what can you do, right?"

"The crooks make one hell of a mockery of this system," Mason agreed, "I think I've seen what I need to see. I wish I could give you more."

"Did you and Colonel Strader work everything out?" Holbein asked him.

"In a matter of speaking," Mason smiled, "got the folder, Karen?"

"Right here," She said holding up the manila envelope.

"We're going to find a place to park," Mason said, "we'll check in with you later once we get cleaned up and some food in us."

"I'll probably be here," Marcus admitted, "if I'm not, someone here will know where to find me."

"Thanks," Mason said.

He and Karen went out of the building as quick as they could manage. Karen looked at him and saw the urgency in his eyes. Mason jumped into the driver's seat and had the van started almost before she could get in. Jim sat up and came to the front.

"What the hell?" Jim said, "What happened?"

"Strader," Mason said, "he's here."

"Fuck," Jim said, "what do we do?"

"He and I had a talk," Mason shrugged, "now we're going to quietly leave before he can call any reinforcements."

"Let's go," Karen suggested, "like now."

Mason drove the van out of the gate and went down the road. He looked at Karen and breathed a sigh of relief. Karen patted the envelope and joined Mason in that sigh. Jim looked at them and wondered what the next step was.

"What do we do now?" Jim asked them.

"We need a clean car first," Mason said, "not to mention some more information. I want to know a bit more about Colonel Strader. I have a suspicion that we'll be meeting him again."

"You can't ask Gabriel for something like that," Karen reminded him, "his ass is hanging out enough as it is."

"Strader won't do anything to Chris," Mason told her, "it would be far too public and they can't afford it. That's one place where we have an advantage. Strader is alone."

"They sent him here without backup?" Jim said, surprised.

"Yes," Mason said, "and you need to keep your head down. He knows about you."

"What?" Jim exclaimed, "How the hell..."

"He said as much?" Karen asked Mason.

"Flat out," Mason agreed, "I was wondering how he knew that myself."

"Gabriel?" Karen said, "Maybe he sold us out?"

"He wouldn't do that," Mason said and then thought about it, "but Strader might have had his phones tapped."

"That's nice and legal," Karen said sarcastically.

"There's nothing nice and legal about this mess," Mason said, "we're no longer citizens of any country. They can do what they want to do now."

"That's not comforting," Karen said.

"So where do we get the clean car?" Jim asked them.

"One thing at a time," Mason said, "let's find an RV park. This vehicle will be compromised if we keep it on the road. We'll park it and use a clean car from there."

There was no dissent from either Jim or Karen. They had had just about enough for the day as well.

## Chapter 80: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

Colonel Strader walked around the room smoking a cigarette. Mason's words rang through his head and he was not quite sure where to go next. He had a lot of information, but he still had the sinking feeling that everyone was still ahead of him.

"What do I do now," he kept asking himself as he paced.

He turned on the television and turned off the volume. The locals were still surrounding the crime scene at Bolantine's house. He grumbled and considered partaking in the very well stocked dry bar that came with the room. He was on the edge of it when the phone rang.

"Strader," he said, sitting down roughly in an antique chair.

"Just got your message," Adam Strader said, "nothing new to report on my end unfortunately. Gabriel's phones have not had anything other than standard business on it. Nothing new from Mason."

"That's because he's here," Richard told his son, "I was face to face with Mason Stone for about ten minutes in Bolantine's house."

"How the hell did that happen?" Adam wondered, "Why didn't you get him there?"

"Gabriel covered him well," Richard growled, "he had the girl with him. The locals would have sided with him too."

"If it wouldn't cause a complete and total uproar I'd have the bastard brought up on treason charges," Adam grumbled, "what do you want me to do?"

"Forget Gabriel," Richard said, "that damage is done and in his position you or I might have done the same thing. I need you to find some things out for me. More grunt work."

"Let me know what you need," Adam asked his father.

"Get the DOD pukes to hack into the ownership databases here," Richard instructed his son, "look for any property owned directly or indirectly by Bolantine that would be suitable for a place to hide. I'm sure the locals are doing it, but the DOD can hack into databases that the locals need warrants for."

"I'll get on it," Adam agreed, "they should have something for you by mid-morning. Anything else?"

"That'll do it for tonight," Richard said, "it's been a while since I have had any real sleep. This place is pretty good. Might actually get my first sober night's sleep in three years."

"See that you do," Adam said, "I'll call you in the morning."

"How is the cleanup going on your end?" Richard asked him.

"They've got pretty much everything that was in the building," Adam told him, "they'll have it all packed up and moved down to the CDC in Atlanta by the end of the week."

"Stay with them until they hit the road," Richard instructed him, "then get packed up and get up here with me. I'd like to have you at my back for this."

"They don't need me here," Adam protested.

"I do," Richard told him, "I need that information. Get that and we will reevaluate what we're doing. Make sure the locals don't fuck anything else up."

"Right," Adam said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Richard put down the phone and went over to the bed. He sat back on the luxurious sheets and pondered taking off his clothes. It was a fleeting thought as his body put him to sleep before he could do anything else.

## Chapter 81: Trailer Inn RV Park, Seattle, WA

Mason drove up to the RV park space where he had parked the van a few hours before. Karen and Jim were standing outside of the van trying to figure out how to hook up the sewage line. Karen looked at the rusted ten year old Caprice Classic and shook her head.

"Where did you find that thing?" Karen asked him, "Looks like a refuge from a junk heap."

"It was cheap and the dealer didn't ask any questions as soon as I offered him a grand in cash for it," Mason grinned, "it'll do for the interim."

"Too bad the sewage line isn't being as cooperative," Jim grumbled.

Mason smiled and went over to the receptacle. He opened a little panel on the side of the van and plugged the line into the quick release plug. Karen and Jim looked at him dumbfounded.

"Don't look so surprised," Mason told them, "I've lived in this thing for nearly two years. I know where everything is."

"So what's next?" Jim asked them.

"We make a few calls," Mason told them, "shall we retire inside?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Karen agreed.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Jim shrugged.

They climbed back into the van and Mason pulled another phone out of the box. He and Karen climbed onto the bed and moved to the back, While Jim took a position at the foot of the bed so he could see what was going on.

"So what is the game plan?" Karen asked Mason.

"It's time to get some information," Mason told her as he activated the phone he was holding, "I know just the person to get it for us."

"Umm..." Jim said, "You know you're supposed to be dead, Mason."

"Kosmo probably wouldn't notice," Mason smiled, "not only that, he's the only person in the world with the skills that I know of that can hack what we need."

"Hacker?" Karen asked him, "What do we need hacked?"

"I want to know who the hell is backing the opposition," Mason said, "Kosmo is a whiz at breaking financial files. If anyone can track Bolantine's finances it's him."

"Ok," Karen agreed, "what else?"

"I also want him to throw a monkey wrench into Strader's tracking efforts on us," Mason smiled, "Kosmo is a master of changing and altering electronic information. I'm going to have Kosmo scramble the records on us."

"Do what you gotta do," Jim suggested, "I'll sit and listen."

"Good luck, Mason," Karen said.

Mason dialed a number from memory and waited for a certain number of clicks. When the fourth one came Mason quickly dialed a code from memory that redirected the call over a secure circuit through four countries, making tracing a logistical nightmare and tapping nearly impossible as it transfers the call to different locations at random. Finally a ringer came on and a voice picked up.

"Welcome to the bat phone," a youthful voice said through the line, "and which of my esteemed clients is calling tonight?"

"My name is Stone," Mason said, "a referral from the now departed Trip Mason."

"Shit," Kosmo said, "so the rumors about Mason's death are true eh?"

"He was shot and killed," Mason agreed, "they are still looking for the rest of the body."

"What do you want, Mr. Stone?" Kosmo asked him, "How secure is your line?"

"Disposable cell," Mason told him, "almost as secure in its anonymity as your relay system is."

"Anonymity is a good thing," Kosmo agreed, "did Mason tell you that I'm mostly retired?"

"Mason told me where to find some evidence," Mason smiled, watching Karen and Jim's faces, "There's a box holding some computer disks..."

"Shit," Kosmo groaned, "I'd hoped that would have died with Trip."

"Let's just say he and I were very close," Mason said, "I need you to do some things for me."

"How much more trouble is it going to get me in to?" Kosmo asked him.

"Most of it will be cakewalk for you," Mason said, "some of it might make you a profit."

"I'm always for that," Kosmo agreed, "what is it?"

"First the easy parts and the ones I need first," Mason told him, "I need a full record on a Colonel Richard Strader. He's active duty, probably special assignment, maybe in his early fifties."

"Easy enough," Kosmo told him, "they protect most of their stuff rigorously, but personnel records are notoriously easy to get. I'll have that in an hour, probably."

"Good," Mason said, "I'll want that one as soon as you get it."

"I'll encrypt it and email it anywhere you like," Kosmo said, "give me an eight digit code."

"04041940," Mason told him, "and make it as small as possible. I'm using an AOL account right now."

"I'll get it in text and run a converter on the pics," Kosmo promised, "where do you want it sent?"

Mason rattled off the clean email address that the feds did not know about.

"I'm sorry," Kosmo chuckled, "hope you find better access soon."

"Trust me," Mason agreed, "so do I."

"What else do you need?" Kosmo asked him, "And where does the profit come in?"

"Soon," Mason said, "patience. The next thing I need is going to be a bit tougher."

"I like a challenge," Kosmo told him, "lay it on me."

"There's an old crook in Seattle called Bolantine," Mason said, "he's getting up in years but he's still lethal. I want you to get a list of things he owns, especially isolated properties."

"Probably will take a few hours of digging," Kosmo agreed, "shouldn't be too hard. All that is computerized now."

"Those are the items I need first," Mason told him, "now for the parts that might actually make you some money."

"I'm all for that," Kosmo agreed.

"Raid Bolantine's accounts," Mason instructed him, "wire fraud on a grand scale. Anything you can get without getting caught, get and put away in Grand Cayman. Half for you and half for me. Use the same account that you did for Trip Mason."

"I can do that," Kosmo said, "any chance he'll come looking for me?"

"Not likely," Mason said, "he's either dead or he will be soon."

"Anything else?" Kosmo asked him.

"Perform the same trick on James Entragian and Elliot Sumner," Mason said, "James Entragian recently died in Boland Creek, NY and his medical center was there. He's bound to have a whole pile of illegal accounts because Bolantine was funneling money into his operation."

"I'll strip them clean," Kosmo promised, "easy money."

"Right," Mason said, "there's one more thing. No money in it, but it's vitally important."

"What?" Kosmo wondered.

"Erase any electronic records you can find on Trip," Mason said, "Also on Karen Dean, James Entragian and Elliot Sumner. I want you to make such a mess that nobody will be able to find them."

"I fail to see the reasoning," Kosmo said, "but if you've got Trip's files then I don't have much choice."

"Do this right," Mason told him, "and I'll deliver those files to you in person. You can burn them right in your office in the World Trade Center."

"Just for destroying four identities?" Kosmo said, impressed, "Why is it so important?"

"You're better off if you don't know," Mason told him, "trust me on that."

"Sounds like a fun job overall," Kosmo agreed, "I'll send the first information in a few hours."

"That works," Mason told him, "I'll check it in the morning. I need some sleep."

"Got a number I can call?" Kosmo asked him.

"This one will be good for another 12 hours," Mason said, "I'll leave the phone that long."

"You got it," Kosmo said, "I'll call you if I get anything earth shattering."

"Do that," Mason agreed, "I'll talk to you later, Kosmo."

Kosmo clicked off the line and Mason put the phone aside. Karen and Jim looked at him and wondered what trick he was going to pull out of his hat next. Mason merely smiled at them.

"I busted Kosmo for wire fraud ten years ago," Mason told him, "he'd made a dumb mistake and we caught up with him. I kept the evidence and have been using him for jobs like this ever since. That job would be enough to send him to the slammer for 30 years, not to mention make several New York crime families want him rather dead."

"Never a good thing," Karen chuckled.

"Blackmail works," Jim said, "so what's next for tonight?"

"Sleep," Mason said, "you get the bed in the front, Jim."

"Fun," Jim chuckled, "you get all the fun."

"You've gotten laid since I have," Mason reminded Jim.

"As it should be," Jim said, thumbing his nose at Mason as Mason shut the privacy door.

## Chapter 82: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

Richard Strader awoke to the ringing of the phone. He saw that he was still fully clothed, and was surprised to feel as well as he did. He was even more shocked to see no open bottles, as it was his first completely sober night's sleep in several years. He shook his head a little to get his vision clear and rolled over to pick up the phone.

"Strader," he said into the phone.

"Still sleeping?" Adam said into the phone, surprised, "It's after noon."

"There," Richard chuckled, "it's only 9 or so here. I needed the sleep, been on the go for several days now."

"No argument from me," Adam agreed, "especially if you did it without alcohol."

"I considered it," he admitted, "but I was too tired to bother with it. I slept easily."

"I've had some luck for you," Adam told him, "there's about a half dozen properties that fit your criteria. I've faxed a list to the hotel. It should be waiting for you downstairs."

"I'll start scouting it today," Richard told him, "how goes the wrap-up?"

"They may get it done early," Adam told him, "I'll be on a plane out there tomorrow afternoon most likely, if not then by the next morning."

"Good," Richard said, not questioning it, "Finish up there and get out of dodge."

"Way ahead of you," Adam agreed, "be careful up there."

"I picked up a weapon from the local armory yesterday," Richard told him, "I've dealt with worse stuff over the years. Besides, all I'm doing is scouting. I don't intend to do anything major without backup."

"See that you get that backup," Adam said, "I'm looking forward to you getting to meet little Glen."

"Think Tracy will let me in the house after what happened last time?" Richard asked him, "And did she ever get the stain out of the carpet?"

"If you stay off the sauce she'll probably forgive you," Adam chuckled, "Just make sure you're ready for Christmas this year."

"Thanks," Richard told his son, "that means a lot."

"No problem, dad," Adam said, "hell, I know if my wife did that to me I'd be drinking too. We'll get past it though."

"I just want you to know, son," Richard told him, "I'm proud of you. You've turned out even better than I'd hoped."

"Thanks," Adam said, surprised, "What brought this on?"

"Something that's long overdue," Richard said, "now go finish up there. I need you here."

"Right," Adam said, "talk to you tonight or tomorrow."

"You bet," Richard agreed and put down the phone.

He went over and checked his weapon, loading it properly and putting a spare clip in his pocket. He covered the holster with his jacket and went down to the front desk to pick up the list Adam had faxed him.

"Let's see what we can find, shall we?" Strader asked himself as he walked out of the Edgewater Inn.

## Chapter 83: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

Elliot walked around the building and tried to figure out what to do next. He was getting sick of fast food and Bolantine's doctor and nurse were getting edgy. Bolantine and Nikki were improving, but Elliot suspected he still had a couple days before Bolantine woke up and still doubted Nikki ever would.

Elliot growled and wondered how he had managed to get himself into this mess. It was not supposed to turn out like this. He and James were going to give him the formula and then set up somewhere in South America to test it some more before using it on themselves. Now James was dead, the clinic just a memory and he was walking around a broken down warehouse waiting for two corpses to wake up so he could be paid.

Elliot was wallowing in self-pity when he saw the doctor putting on his jacket. He rushed over and grabbed the younger man's arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Elliot asked him.

"I didn't sign on to be a fugitive," he told Elliot, "I'm going to talk to a lawyer and turn myself in."

"The radio said there's want warrants on both of us," the nurse said, explaining to Elliot.

"I can't let you do that," Elliot told him.

"Go soak your head!" the doctor said, "I signed on to take care of that corpse over there because the money was good. I didn't sign on for this!"

The doctor pushed Elliot aside and started heading for the door. Elliot went to the ambulance and grabbed the weapon he had salvaged from one of the corpses back at the Mansion. Elliot was not particularly schooled on guns, but it did not take a rocket scientist to fire one.

The first shot went wide and smacked into a wall, but the second one was on target, taking the young doctor in the back. It was not a fatal shot, but enough to knock him over. Elliot walked over to the fallen man and put another shot close range into his head to make sure he was dead.

He then turned to the nurse who was debating on running and obviously scared out of her mind.

"Do you want to run too?" Elliot asked her with a look of burning hatred in his eyes, magnified to intensive heights by his glasses.

"No," she squeaked.

"Good," Elliot smiled evilly, liking the feeling of power he had with the weapon, "You will stay here until I tell you that you can go."

The girl nodded meekly, not wanting to be killed. Elliot had been a doctor once, but he left what few scruples he had behind when he left with Elise back in Boland Creek. He looked at the girl and then at Bolantine and Nikki.

"It looks like there will be some time to relax," Elliot said, "why don't you join me in the ambulance?"

The nurse turned white and shook her head no. Elliot was in no mood to be charitable. He had been looking at Elise for several days and wanted to actually get laid for once. Now that he had the power he was not about to be denied, so he picked up the gun and pointed it at her.

"I'm afraid I must insist," Elliot told her, "get in there."

The girl still remembered seeing Elliot shoot the doctor, so she knew he would pull the trigger. She meekly entered the ambulance, followed closely by Elliot. Elliot looked out at the two inert bodies on the tables.

"Don't wait up," Elliot told them needlessly, "I'm going to be a while!"

Neither Bolantine nor Nikki said a word.

## Chapter 84: Trailer Inn RV Park, Seattle, WA

"Colonel Strader is an interesting individual," Mason said when he finished reading the file, "the only thing I can't understand is why the hell they sent him here alone."

"You said it yourself," Karen told him, "they're trying not to attract attention to this."

"Not attracting attention is one thing," Mason said, "sending an officer who was one step away from being court marshaled due to alcoholism is just insane."

"What makes you think they sent him here just for this?" Jim asked him.

"Hmm?" Mason wondered.

"Look at the facts," Jim told them, "Strader was on scene immediately. Do you think Gabriel asked for him? He couldn't have known either."

"So?" Karen said, not seeing the connection.

"I don't remember exactly what they were doing," Jim said, "but I do remember something about military application procedures. Knowing my background and physique I doubt I was in the infantry."

"Your point?" Mason asked him.

"Strader wasn't there for you or the serum," Jim said, "he was probably there on a routine check on military funded projects."

"That checks with his previous records," Mason agreed, "he hadn't had an important project in over three years, since the departure of his wife."

"It still doesn't tell us anything we don't know," Karen grumped, sitting back in her corner of the bed, "We're still dead in the water until something shows up."

"No doubting that," Mason sighed, "our biggest hope right now is that Kosmo will break something. We still need to take it easy. If we pull too much here we're going to send heat back on Gabriel."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Karen asked him.

"There's a video store down the street," Mason grinned, "shall we get some movies?"

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," Jim said, shaking his head.

"Be careful, Jim," Mason said, "don't get yourself in trouble."

"No trouble necessary," Jim grinned, "I'm just going to go look for a little bit of fun."

"Don't get arrested, eh?" Karen suggested.

"Right," Jim grinned and winked at her as he left.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Mason asked her.

"He's got nowhere else to go," Karen said, "but he's turning out well all told, isn't he?"

"Better than I expected," Mason admitted, "time will tell."

"So do we really need to go out for a movie?" Karen smiled at him.

"I don't think so," Mason grinned and offered her the spot right next to him, "I think we should be enjoying the time with Jim out of the van."

"Yes," Karen grinned, "it is a lot like having a child, without the pain of childbirth."

"Let's just hope he doesn't do to us what my kids did to me," Mason said, remembering the pain that his children had caused him.

"Don't think about that now," Karen said as she kissed him a little, "Just think about this..."

"I think I can go along with that," Mason smiled.

## Chapter 85: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

"What the hell are you hiding, Strader?" Marcus Holbein asked the Colonel, who had been hanging around his fruitless search for a couple days now, "Bolantine had been quiet for years before you got here."

"I wasn't expecting this anymore than you were," Strader assured him, "have your people found anything?"

"Not a sign of the bastard," Holbein growled, "it's like the world just up and sucked him up. The doctor and nurse that were in the place are gone with them."

"Fuck," Strader cursed, "means Elliot is probably with them."

"Why does that matter?" Holbein asked him, "This is bullshit. I'm beginning to think both you and Stone are mad."

"And where has he been?" Strader asked as he lit another cigarette.

"He stopped in today to find out if we had any sightings," Holbein said, "but he's just as tightlipped about this as you are. Either neither of you know anymore than I do or you both are holding out on me."

"I don't know much more than you do," Strader told him, "and what little I do know won't make a difference. All I can do is assure you that it's vitally important that you find Elliot and Bolantine as soon as possible."

"But why?" Holbein asked him, "I can't work on half information, Strader!"

"I can't tell you anymore," Strader sighed, "it's classified information, Marcus. Just find them and let me know. My people will take it from there."

"You don't have jurisdiction over this, Strader," Holbein told him, "Bolantine will answer in a Seattle court."

"Just let me know," Strader told him, "go ahead and arrest him if you can, but be sure to inform me when you do."

"Sure," Holbein growled, "I'll be sure to call you."

Holbein left the suite and slammed the door on the way out. Strader sighed and went over to the couch. He'd spent most of the day locating and checking out the locations that Adam had dug up, finding nothing at all. He was getting rather annoyed at the lack of progress.

He was eyeing the dry bar again when the phone rang. He chuckled and went over to the phone, fully expecting to hear Adam's voice come out of it. He certainly was not disappointed.

"How is it that whenever I even look at the bar you know to call?" Richard said into the phone.

"Lucky, I guess," Adam chuckled, "it's been a long day here."

"Here too," Richard said, "I checked every one of those places, two pages worth of them."

"Two pages?" Adam said, "There should have been three."

"Shit," Richard grumbled, "nothing is going right today. Holbein was here a few minutes ago, he's pissed because I'm not telling him anything. The only good news on that is that Mason isn't telling him anything either."

"Do you know where he is?" Adam asked him.

"I'm sure he's out there doing something," Richard said, "but he's been keeping quiet too. He's just as out of luck as we are until either Elliot or Bolantine show up."

"Well, the good thing is that the last of the clinic is on its way to Fort Detrick," Adam told him, "tomorrow morning I'm heading to Albany to catch a plane out to you. I figure I'll be more use there than I will be here or at Detrick."

"At least I'll have someone to sit with," Richard told his son, "when do you expect to get here?"

"Sometime tomorrow afternoon," Adam told him, "I'll refax those pages tonight. I'm tired as hell and need to get some sleep before driving up to Albany in the morning."

"Anything new out of Gabriel?"

"Not a thing," Adam said, "Stone is getting his information somewhere other than him. Probably realized we had Gabriel bugged."

"Probably so," Richard said, "fax those things and get some sleep. I'm going to go down to the dining room and get a late dinner."

"Remember what I said about the booze, dad," Adam warned, "I find you drunk and I swear I'm heading right back to Detrick."

"No worries," Richard assured him, "I've been clean for nearly a week. I need to get some food though."

"Good for you," Adam said, "I'm going to hit the sack. See you tomorrow, dad."

Richard smiled as he put the phone down on the cradle. It had been a long time since he had gotten this type of reaction out of his son, something that he knew was largely his own fault. He looked at the booze and turned his nose up at it, deciding to watch the evening news and forget about his own problems.

## Chapter 86: Trailer Inn RV Park, Seattle, WA

Karen was rather enjoying resting against Mason's body when she heard the shouting and some lights turn on in the other side of the park. Mason sat up quickly and went for the gun in the compartment behind his head. Karen looked at him and felt a dark feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Strader?" Karen asked him.

"I don't think so," Mason said, shaking his head, "The lights are coming from the other end of the park."

"Jim," Karen said.

"Fuck," Mason growled, "ok, get the van out of the park. I'm going to go investigate."

"What if it's Jim?" Karen asked him.

"I'll deal with it as best I can," Mason said, "I want the van off safe. I'll use the Caprice if I have to make a retreat."

"All right," Karen nodded, "I hope it's nothing."

"Somehow I doubt it," Mason said as he pulled on a pair of pants, "it sounds like a riot."

Karen put on some sweat clothes and started the van as Mason slipped out the side door. Two of the floodlights had been turned on in the back and several people were circling around. Mason knew he was seeing something bad happening, and of course Jim's smooth head was right in the middle of it.

"Shit," Mason grumbled as he tried to move closer, "what did you do this time?"

He kept the gun in his jacket and went over towards the circle and tried to figure out why the conflict was going on. Jim had been hit a few times, but luckily nobody had noticed the fact that he healed immediately yet.

"What the hell were you doing with my woman?" the redneck asked as he pushed Jim back.

There were three of them in close, one with a shotgun and two holding bats. The congregation of people around them was watching, some in horror and some were actively encouraging it. Mason was more worried about the couple in the back holding the video camera.

"Fuck," Mason said, "Don't get videotaped doing this..."

The crowd was chanting for the fight and Jim was trying to find a way out. He was outnumbered and outclassed and had enough good sense to know that. Mason watched for a few minutes and tried to figure out a way to get him out of that mess.

"I didn't know she was your wife..." Jim tried to explain, "I met her out here."

"Like hell!" one of them said, "Kill the college boy!"

Mason considered pulling his weapon, but knew that would cause more problems. Jim was in the circle and trying to get away, but one of the creeps took Jim's left knee out with the bat, preventing an easy escape.

"Shit," Mason grumbled, "What the hell do I do now?"

Mason stopped watching the display and went over to the old Caprice, starting it up and gunning the old motor. Jim was still trying to escape when Mason pulled out of the parking space and started driving towards the crowd. He leaned on the horn and people got out of the way enough to let him through, but the rednecks were not giving in.

"I've got to go!" Jim said and ran for the car.

The first Redneck tried to stop him and the one with the shotgun fired it, hitting Jim square in the back from a distance of about four feet. There was a lot of screaming and the people scattered, though the cameraperson filmed it.

Mason growled and drove next to the body. He pulled his own weapon and went over to Jim, who was laid out on the ground in a bloody heap. The redneck fired a shot at Mason, who returned fire, killing the redneck instantly.

"He just killed Jethro!" one of his friends said and went to get the shotgun, "Kill that fucker!"

Mason took a moment to pick up Jim's body and threw it into the car. Just as Jim's body hit the seat he felt a shotgun blast rip into his side, destroying a good chunk of tissue and sending white-hot pain through his body. Mason turned around with his gun and fired several shots, killing the second redneck.

"Shit," Mason growled and got into the car, ignoring the pain.

The surprised crowd watched as Mason used his good arm to drive away from the scene. The wounds began healing immediately, but luckily there was enough blood flowing so that the people could not see just how fast. He drove the caprice to a parking lot a couple miles away from the park and pulled off his shirt.

"Jesus," Mason growled, "just what I needed to start the fucking day."

The shotgun blast had only grazed his right side, something that would have put a normal person in the hospital. Most of the flesh had healed up already, though he could feel some pieces of shrapnel under his skin. In about five minutes his body had healed up rather nicely to the point where it would not be noticeable other than the blood. He picked up a cell phone and called the one in the van.

"Where are you?" Karen asked him.

"In a parking lot," Mason told her, "Jim got himself shot. Got me shot too. Come pick us up, we're going to have to dump the Caprice and change the tags on the van."

"I'll be there in five," Karen told him, "are you ok?"

"I've already healed," Mason told her, "I'm looking at Jim now. He'll probably be at least moving by the time you get here. Hurry up before I try to kill him again myself."

"Right," Karen said.

Once he had himself reasonably serviceable, Mason turned Jim over and looked at the wound on his back. It was one that would have easily killed anyone, tearing apart most of his chest. Mason picked out the pieces of buckshot he could see, but the flesh was healing around faster than Mason could pick pieces out.

"Hope you choke on the buckshot," Mason growled.

Karen pulled into the parking lot and rushed over to the car, surprised to see Mason in the condition he was.

"How is he?" Karen asked him.

"He's healing," Mason said, "there was no damage to his head, though his head was pretty fucking damaged to begin with."

"How many people saw you?" Karen asked.

"Too many," Mason said, "they might even have gotten us on videotape."

"Not good, Mase," Karen said, "that videotape hits public and we're fucked."

"Luckily the hits on both of us were bad enough that the healing wasn't immediate," Mason said, "mine didn't heal completely until I was parked."

"You're covered in blood, Mase," Karen said, "so is this car."

"Is the water tank full in the van?" Mason asked her.

"I think so," she nodded, "why?"

"I need a shower," Mason told her, "go get the old ugly blanket from the van. We'll wrap up Jim and let him heal on his own."

"Right," Karen nodded and rushed off to do it.

Mason picked Jim up and met Karen at the door. They wrapped him up much like a corpse and threw him into the bed in the back. Mason closed the privacy door and went back out to the car, freezing in the cold. Karen followed him and watched what he was doing.

"Get the van back," Mason said, "I'm going to make it so this car can't be traced to us."

Mason removed the license plates and put a rag into the gas tank. Karen saw what he was doing and moved far away. He lit the end of the end of the rag and went back to the van before the car caught.

"Drive," Mason growled, "find a parking lot a few miles away."

"What do we do now?" Karen asked him.

"I get showered and we make an appearance at Holbein's station," Mason said as he set up the shower appliance in the van, "that's the nice thing about being immortal. Everyone saw both me and Jim get shot up. I show up at the station less than four hours later completely healed and they can't even reasonably suspect me."

"Tricky," Karen agreed, "I like it."

"I don't," Mason grumbled, "but what choice do I have?"

"None," Karen said, "did he get in trouble over a whore this time?"

"No," Mason sighed, "a redneck's girlfriend. I had to kill two of them on the way out too."

"Shit," Karen sighed, "just what we needed."

"Right," Mason agreed as he turned on the shower, "given the choice, I think I'm going to suggest he stay with hookers from now on."

Karen giggled as Mason washed off the blood and tried to make the lousy wakeup call become just a memory. Mason just wished he could have found it as funny as she did, but then she did not just have to kill two people because of Jim dipping his prick into some RV park slut. He sighed and just continued to wash.

## 

## Chapter 87: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

It had been a busy night for Elliot, since he had repeatedly forced his way with the young nurse. He was sleeping in the ambulance when the young woman slid out quietly. She was sobbing silently as she slipped away from the sleeping man. She looked for some clothes because she wanted to get away.

Elliot did not even seem to notice as she tried to slip away, but Bolantine heard the motion. He was awake again and decided it was time to try moving to find out what was going on. Surprisingly, he was able to sit up and look around. He saw the young woman.

"No," she said, "My god..."

"Not yet," Bolantine grinned, "but I soon will be."

The girl got up to run while Bolantine got onto his feet. He was still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when he had been shot, but they were a lot looser on him now. She tried to get to the door, but Bolantine was faster.

"Sorry doll," Bolantine said as he grabbed her and dragged her back to the ambulance, "I can't let you run out there like that."

The girl was fighting back and beating at Bolantine, but he barely even noticed it. He was marginally surprised by the fact that he had the strength to move the girl, but glad to feel as well as he did. The girl finally let off a kick to the nuts that pissed him off enough to throw her against the ambulance.

"What the hell?" Elliot said the girl slammed against the side.

The doctor put on his glasses and brought out the gun, running out of the ambulance. Bolantine grabbed the poorly held gun and took it away from Elliot. Elliot was shocked to see Bolantine up so quickly and gave up the gun without a fight.

"Why is she so intent on running, Elliot?" Bolantine asked him.

"I don't know," Elliot squealed.

"Well," Bolantine said as he went over to the girl, "let's find out."

"He raped me!" She screamed, "I just want to get out of here!"

"Is that so?" Bolantine said, "Well, I can certainly understand that. Unfortunately, I still need him right now."

"Yeah," Elliot said, nodding.

"Shut up, Elliot," Bolantine said testily, "now, I want you to come over here."

"Me?" Elliot said, surprised.

"Yes, you," Bolantine said, glaring his focused eyes at the doctor, "Now!"

Elliot scrambled over there and was immediately grabbed by Bolantine. Bolantine jammed his gun into Elliot's back and made him face the girl. The girl looked into Elliot's eyes with a burning hatred.

"Apologize to her," Bolantine instructed him, jamming the weapon harder into his back, "And I'd suggest making it sincere."

"I'm sorry," Elliot whimpered, "I'm very sorry."

"With feeling," Bolantine said, a smile forming on his thin lips as he twisted the weapon in Elliot's back.

"I'm so sorry," Elliot cried, "please believe how sorry I am!"

"Now I feel better," Bolantine smiled, "don't you?"

Elliot nodded amid his own sobbing and fell to the ground when Bolantine dropped him. The girl whimpered over by the ambulance wheel. Bolantine looked at the surroundings and then at Elliot and the girl again. His instinct, much like Elise's before him, was to kill Elliot.

"Do you have the formula?" Bolantine asked him.

"It's in my head," Elliot said, still whimpering.

"About time someone put it to good use," Bolantine growled, "all right then. It would seem that I have to do something."

"You need me..." Elliot said.

"Maybe," Bolantine admitted and then aimed the gun at his head, "but I am alive again. I don't know how much I need you if you're going to do stuff this stupid."

Bolantine held the gun in place and let his finger tighten on the trigger a little. He took a deep breath and decided that he did not have a choice. He moved slightly and aimed the pistol at the girl's head, pulling the trigger and sending a single bullet through the girl's head, splattering her brain against the side of the Ambulance.

"I need you for now," Bolantine said, "but if you do anything like that again I'll blow off your balls. Understand me?"

"Clearly," Elliot nodded.

"Now where are we?" Bolantine asked him, "This place looks familiar, but I don't remember it."

"You own it," Elliot said, pulling himself off the ground away from the girl's body, "You mumbled about it while we were leaving."

"I take it you killed the doctor over there," Bolantine said as he stood up and stretched, "trying to leave too?"

Elliot nodded.

"Good," Bolantine said, "now how is my dear Nikki doing?"

"She was breathing on her own when I left her to sleep," Elliot said, "I haven't checked her in a while though."

"Then I suggest we do so," Bolantine suggested and waved the gun over in the general direction.

Elliot scurried over and started checking the connections of the IV and her pulse. Bolantine went over and started looking at the girl he had cherished and kept alive for nearly thirty years. Most of the lines that had accumulated on her face in thirty years of coma had now been erased.

"Will she wake up?" Bolantine asked him.

"It's possible," Elliot said, "the girl we tested on had been nearly comatose for over two years and she woke up coherent enough to kill James. If there's any gray matter left working in her head she has a chance."

"She does," Bolantine said, "I know it. I didn't keep her alive for thirty years just to have her become a beautiful vegetable."

"The nice thing about vegetables," Elliot said with a smarmy smile, "is that they don't fight back."

Bolantine considered again shooting him, but safed the weapon and put it into the back of his waistband. He gripped Nikki's hand for a few moments and then went over to the ambulance to make use of the large mirror on the side.

"Will my hair go back to normal?" Bolantine asked Elliot.

"Yes," Elliot nodded, "the test subject's roots were black after about a week."

"Good," Bolantine said and rotated his head around, stretching his neck, "You did good work. Too bad James didn't survive to enjoy it."

"What now?" Elliot asked him.

Bolantine looked around and pushed back his hair. He found a box and set it up next to Nikki's stretcher and held her hand. Elliot backed over to the ambulance and thanked his lucky stars he was alive. He just wondered for how long.

## Chapter 88: North Precinct, Seattle, WA

Mason pulled the van to a stop in a parking space. He looked pretty well normal again, although he felt lousy because of some of the buckshot that was still residing in his ribs. He looked at Karen and sighed. She looked back at Jim, who was finally beginning to stir.

"Should we wait for him to wake up?" Karen asked him.

"Probably," Mason agreed, "if only to make sure he doesn't try to fuck someone in the parking lot."

"You're the one who let him go out," Karen giggled.

"I didn't think it was going to get me shot!" Mason exclaimed.

"Am I dead?" Jim groaned as he stirred.

"You aren't that lucky," Mason growled, "what do you remember?"

"I was in bed with this hot little number and got yanked out by that insane redneck," Jim said as he tried to sit up, "it all happened so quick."

"Do you remember getting shot?" Karen asked him.

"Yeah," Jim nodded, "thought I was going to die."

"I can't get that lucky," Mason growled, "you got me shot trying to save your worthless ass."

"You ok?" Jim asked him, still struggling against the blanket they had wrapped around him.

"I'm still sore," Mason said, "but I healed quick. I'm more annoyed that you managed to get us videotaped."

"Shit," Jim said, "I didn't know this would happen. I mean she was there, we talked and ended up in the sack..."

"You didn't pay this one?" Karen asked him, slightly surprised.

"Nope," Jim said, "probably would have been better off if she was a pro."

"It doesn't matter," Mason said, "Karen and I need to present ourselves to Holbein now to prove that I'm not the man in that video. You need to stay here."

"I feel like I got hit with a Mack Truck," Jim said, "I think I'm going to sleep for a while."

"Remind me to hit him when I get back," Mason told Karen.

"Count on it," Karen smiled, winking at Jim.

"Call me if you need me," Jim said, finally wiggling out of the blanket, "I might be able to add something if you need info about Elliot."

"I doubt we're going to find anything new," Mason shrugged, "but I want you to know this. I had to kill two of those idiots to extricate you. Don't do that to me again. Got that?"

Entragian went pale at that. He never thought that his having a little fun with a girl would get anyone killed. Mason was glad to see the look of horror in Entragian's eyes. He knew that Jim had not intended for it to happen, but consequences were a new lesson for the man. They were just gratified that it was something that he could grasp.

"They tried to kill us first," Mason said, "so they weren't innocent. But it's a situation that could have been avoided if you had simply bolted."

"Right," Jim nodded.

"Just think about that while we're inside," Mason said and climbed out of the van.

Karen looked at Jim and shrugged before following Mason. Jim sighed and fell back against the bed. Mason and Karen stopped outside for a minute and listened as Jim started sobbing a little into his pillow. Mason smiled at Karen and put a hand on her shoulder as they turned and walked towards the precinct.

"I think he's learning," Karen said, "the man he was before wouldn't have done that."

"He needed the lesson," Mason agreed, "it wasn't his fault by any stretch, but he needed to be reminded that most human beings are frail and we don't want to do any more damage than we have to."

"I'm all for that," Karen nodded, "Let's go find Holbein."

They walked into the precinct and were greeted with a few stares. Mason looked around and wondered why everyone was staring at him. Karen noticed it as well and was a little scared by the attention. Marcus Holbein walked out and looked like a man who had slept very little the night before.

"Stone!" Holbein said, "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping," Mason said, "Karen and I decided to take a break after all the driving we've been doing. Why? What's going on."

"Videotape on the news," Holbein said, "two guys who were shot up. One of them looked exactly like you."

Mason managed to keep his face straight as he put out the line of bullshit.

"I don't think it was me," Mason said, "all my parts are in one piece. You are welcome to check if you like. What were they shot up with?"

"Shotgun," Holbein said, "the one that looked like you killed the redneck and his friend before he took off in the caprice."

"Weird," Mason said, shrugging, "I guess everyone has a double."

"Yeah," Holbein nodded, "hell, we were about to swear out a warrant on you."

"Trust me," Karen smiled, "I'd know if he'd been shot by a shotgun. He didn't have time, considering he was sleeping next to me."

"Have you made any progress on Sumner or Bolantine?" Mason asked him.

"No sign of them," Holbein told him, "it's like the city sucked them up. They'll turn up sooner or later though."

"We've got some sources digging too," Mason nodded, "we'll be out looking today too. Call us if you get anything."

"Right," Holbein nodded, "heard anything from Strader?"

"Not likely," Mason chuckled, "he's a little annoyed about something we got ahead of him on in Boland Creek."

"He doesn't seem to care for the locals much, does he?" Holbein agreed, "If he tells me anything I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Mason told him, "you have our number."

"Right," Holbein nodded.

Mason and Karen walked out of the building. Karen looked at him and shook her head, trying hard not to break out laughing. Mason smiled and waited until he got back to the van to allow himself the luxury of laughing.

"I can't believe we got away with this," Mason said, laughing, "Being immortal definitely may be fun."

"We got lucky," Karen said, "now what?"

"We wait," Mason told her, "I probably need to call Kosmo again. Let's get out of here."

"You want to drive this time?" Karen asked him.

"You do it," Mason said, shaking his head, "I need to check my side again and see if I can pull some of the shrapnel that hurts."

"I'll leave you to that," Karen chuckled, "just make sure you don't scream too much."

"Don't worry," Mason smiled, "I save my screaming for you."

## Chapter 89: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

"Goddamn," Richard Strader said to himself as he pulled up to the old warehouse, "I'm getting sick of looking at all these derelict buildings."

Strader stood up and closed the door on the rented car. He was most of the way through that last page of locations that Adam had faxed him and had come no closer to finding out where Elliot or Bolantine was. He was about ready to give up, but knew he had nothing else to do while he waited.

The building looked like it had been long run down and it was obvious that if Bolantine owned it he did not care too much about it. This meant it would be a perfect place to hide, so Strader took it seriously.

The doors were all closed, so Richard went around the back looking for a place to look inside the building. He walked around, kicking some trash out of the way and nearly tripping over a passed out wino.

"Damned winos," Richard grumbled.

He found a window over towards the back of the building. It was half broken out already, so he knew he could see through it. He climbed onto the dumpster underneath it, attempting to be as quiet as possible. It was not a particularly stable place to stand, but it allowed him a view inside the building.

It did not take Colonel Strader long to realize that he had found his targets. The red and white ambulance stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy surroundings, as did the two men sitting around a horizontal form.

"Got you, motherfucker," Strader said with a smile, "eat your heart out, Mason."

Strader recognized Elliot Sumner sitting in the closest chair. The younger man with the gray hair looked a bit like the pictures he had seen of Bolantine, so he guessed he was too late to stop Elliot from using the serum. He just hoped he could get a team here to scoop them up before they did anything else. He watched for a few minutes to see what was going on inside.

"She's in full REM sleep," Elliot told Bolantine, "this is a good sign. Mason showed the same characteristics before he woke up."

"You think her brain is working?" Bolantine asked him.

"You can't go into REM sleep if you're brain dead," Elliot explained to him, "you have to be alive to dream."

"So it may not be long now," Bolantine nodded approvingly, "good. I'd like to get out of this dump."

"What's the next step?" Elliot asked him, "After she wakes up and we get out of here?"

"What do we need to make this stuff again?" Bolantine asked him.

"A lot of things the government has restricted," Elliot told him, "I can do it again, but it won't be easy."

"Nothing worth having in this life ever is," Bolantine grinned, "I'm going to rule this planet, and she will be my queen."

"What do I get?" Elliot asked him.

"A large place in the empire," Bolantine lied.

"Right," Richard said to himself, "more likely a large plot in a cemetery."

Richard turned to get down and slipped a little, shaking the dumpster as he went down. He managed to get off the dumpster, but not before making a bit more noise and twisting his knee. He tried to stifle off a curse, but he still made a racket as he went down.

"What the hell was that?" Elliot exclaimed, jumping a little, "Someone is outside!"

"Who knew we were here?" Bolantine asked him.

"The only people who knew are in this room," Elliot told him, "Elise killed Alvin and the other ones. She left before we figured out where to bring you and Nikki, so she couldn't have told anyone where to find us. You and I took care of the other two here before they could tell anyone else."

"Someone found us," Bolantine said as he withdrew the weapon, "stay here and guard Nikki. I'll check it out."

While Bolantine was heading outside Richard Strader was trying to regain his balance. Strader cursed and tried to get out to his car. He hobbled out of the alley and came nearly face to face with Bolantine.

Bolantine had no idea who the man was, but knew that he was the one who had been outside the building. Strader knew instinctively that he was in trouble if he stayed put.

"Hold it," Bolantine said.

"Not a chance, Bolantine," Strader said and ducked back around the corner, pulling his own weapon.

Bolantine was surprised that Strader had known who he was, since he looked quite a bit younger than he had a few days previous. It didn't stop him from going around the corner and trying to dispatch the intruder. Strader was waiting, however and got a shot into Bolantine's chest, sending the man flying backwards.

Bolantine went down, but he was not down long. Strader knew he had been dosed with the serum, so he ducked into the building, hoping to find some advantage. He saw what he was looking for next to the table. Elliot paled at seeing the face of the same man who had come to investigate the clinic.

"Strader?" Elliot said, surprised, "What the hell are you doing here..."

"I think the question would be better if reversed," Strader said and rushed over to the table, "Nicole Deseve I assume."

"Yeah," Elliot nodded and then looked at the corpses.

Strader knew that Bolantine was about to wake up, so he got behind Elliot, wrapping an arm around the smaller man's neck before Elliot could run. Bolantine came back into the warehouse, the only sign that he had been hurt at all a single hole in his shirt. Strader put the gun to Elliot's head, knowing that he was the only leverage possible.

"You can't keep this to yourself," Richard told Bolantine, "my people will never let you rest."

"I've rested long enough," Bolantine said, "I paid for this research. I intend to make full use of it."

"This could benefit the country," Strader said, pulling Elliot along, "And you want to keep it private?"

"It belongs to me," Bolantine said, smiling, "Fuck the world. It's going to belong to Nikki and Myself."

"I can't let you do that, Bolantine," Strader told him.

"I don't see that you have a choice," Bolantine said, "you know you can't win, don't you?"

"I have Elliot here," Strader said, shrugging, "I kill him and my people take you. You still lose."

Elliot was paralyzed with fear as Colonel Strader buried the gun into his neck. Bolantine kept his pistol aimed straight for them, but did not fire. The newly awakened man did not know how good his aim would be yet and did not yet want to risk killing Elliot yet, despite the fact that he didn't like the man.

"So what do you suggest, Strader?" Bolantine said, "I'm sure we can work out a deal of some sort."

"I don't think so," Strader said, "I've read your file. People who make deals in situations like this with you usually end up dead. Elliot is coming out of here with me. If you run you might have some freedom before the army rounds you up for testing."

"Don't forget," Bolantine said, "I don't like him very much. I may just shoot you both and be done with it."

"You won't do that," Strader said, shaking his head, "You don't just want immortality. You want to rule the world. To do that you need an army, one that is just as invulnerable as you are. Elliot is the last man left with the serum."

"Please don't kill me," Elliot said, peeing his pants, "I'll give you what you want."

"You won't get him out of here," Bolantine said, "he's already wetting himself."

"Better me than you then," Strader said, "he didn't know what he was getting into. I'm your last chance, Elliot."

Elliot was scared out of his mind. He knew that if he tried to go with Strader then he'd lose any chance at all to make the money that Bolantine promised him. He also knew that Strader's people would probably put him on trial for some of the things he had done. He simply could not think with the gun pressed against his neck.

"Time to make a decision, Elliot," Bolantine said, getting slightly impatient, "Do you want to go with him and I kill you both or do you want to stay with me and get very fucking rich?"

Elliot could not speak coherently at this point, something that Bolantine found inherently amusing. The standoff stretched into a few minutes, during which nobody noticed the fact that Nikki had started stirring and moving a little.

"I've had enough of this," Bolantine said, his eyes burning, "See you in hell, Strader."

Bolantine took careful aim and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, between the gunfight and the previous murders committed with the weapon it was now out of bullets. Bolantine had not carried a gun in so many years that he forgot to check the clip. Strader could not help laughing at this, sending Bolantine into a further rage.

"Time to pay!" Bolantine said and launched himself at Strader and Elliot.

Strader pushed Elliot out of the way and fired a shot Bolantine, which the enraged man didn't even notice as it passed through his left arm. Strader used Bolantine's forward momentum to flip the man backwards, throwing him a good distance onto the concrete floor.

Bolantine had once been a street fighter, but the United States army had trained Richard Strader. Strader knew hand-to-hand fighting techniques that Bolantine had not ever dreamed of. The only advantage that Bolantine actually carried into this fight was the fact that he now had the body of a 20 year old.

Strader stopped trying to shoot Bolantine and started letting him defeat himself a bit. Bolantine tried attacking the Colonel a few more times and got defeated by some more judo moves. Bolantine was getting rather annoyed by this when Strader managed to flip him over and get a foot on the immortal's neck.

"I think it's time for an attitude adjustment," Richard said as he pulled his gun out and aimed it at Bolantine's head.

Strader failed to notice that Nikki had dragged herself up from the table. She did not know where she was or what was happening, but she recognized Bolantine. The girl was not large, but she was big enough to pick up a pipe from the floor and rush behind Strader with it.

"What the hell?" Strader asked as he started to turn and Nikki smashed his shoulder with the pipe. Bolantine took the opportunity to knock the military man onto the ground and kick him a few times.

"Motherfucker," Bolantine grunted and picked up the gun, "any last words, Colonel Dickhead?"

"None that would mean anything to slime like you," Strader said, determining to meet death with eyes wide open.

Bolantine did not disappoint him. Richard Strader died from two shots fired from his own gun. Bolantine growled as he watched Colonel Strader's brains leak out all over the floor. Nikki looked at Bolantine and tried to reconcile the man she was looking at with the fuzzy memories she retained.

"Nice that you could join us," Bolantine smiled as he saw her, "how are you feeling, Nikki?"

"A bit woozy still," Nikki admitted, "I guess that job didn't go as we planned, did it?"

"Job?" Bolantine asked her.

"You know," Nikki said, "the job I was going on with Jake and Henry? The fuzz caught up to us I think."

"Don't worry about that now," Bolantine told her, "it is over. The cops are no longer looking for you."

Bolantine stepped over Strader's corpse and went over to her. Nikki did not know what was going on, but she was surprised to see that look of relief on Bolantine's face. She had known him for a while and did not remember him ever looking that relieved at anything.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, B?" Nikki said, surprised, "What's going on?"

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear your voice again," Bolantine said, hugging her tightly.

"You make it sound like it was close," she said, "I don't remember much after we beat feet, but it can't be that bad if I'm alive and feeling fine?"

"You've been out a while, Nikki," Bolantine told her.

"A few days?" Nikki asked him, "A few weeks?"

"A bit longer than that," he countered.

"How long?" She wondered.

"Thirty years," Bolantine told her, setting off a look of shock in her eyes, "It's been a long fight."

"I've been out for thirty years, Bolantine?" Nikki said incredulously, "What the hell? You turning cut up on me?"

"If you don't believe me," Bolantine suggested, "go look at your hair."

Nikki rushed over to the ambulance and looked in the same mirror Bolantine had when he woke up earlier in the day. She poked at her hair and her face. The facial features were not as much of a shock to her, as she had only been 19 when she had last seen herself.

"How are we so young?" Nikki asked him, "You've got to be kidding me."

"It's a wonderful age," Bolantine smiled and grabbed a knife, "and that man over there lying on the floor in a puddle of his own piss is responsible for us being here still."

"Really?" Nikki said, "How so?"

"He and his late friend created a compound that will mutate the cells in the body," Bolantine explained and then showed her what it did with the knife, "watch the knife, Nikki."

Bolantine cut into his own flesh and managed to shock Nikki in the way it healed around the cut. Nikki's eyes went wide and even with her pacific heritage it was easy to see her go a little pale. The realization of what was happening was starting to dawn on her.

"What have you done, B?" Nikki asked him.

"Given us a new chance," Bolantine said with a smile, "they tried to take you away from me once. No one will ever take you away from me again."

"Thirty years," Nikki said again, impressed that he had kept her going for so long, "I guess I've missed a lot."

"I've missed having you," Bolantine told her, "now we have the time to do what we wanted to before. The world can be ours, Nikki."

"I like the sound of that," Nikki purred, moving next to him, "Now what?"

"Let's get out of here," Bolantine said and then turned to Elliot, "get up you worthless sack of shit."

"Don't kill me," Elliot whimpered.

"Far from it," Bolantine grinned, "you're going to make your little cocktail for us when we can get the ingredients. Now get up and get yourself ready to go."

Bolantine went over and picked the little man up off the floor. He looked around and pulled the pants off the doctor and checked them out to make sure they were not too rank. Nikki went over to the nurse's body and took the pants off her. Once she tucked the hospital gown in around the pants she was at least presentable enough for the public.

"Let's get out of here," Bolantine said, "someone is going to come looking for that asshole soon."

"You couldn't bring me any clothes, huh?" Nikki asked him.

"I wasn't conscious when I left either," Bolantine told her, "I'll explain later."

The three of them walked out of the building and went down the street. Nikki looked at the cars and realized she was in another world. She slid over next to Bolantine, who wrapped an arm around her.

"It's a brave new world, Nikki," Bolantine said, "are you ready for it?"

"Let's rock," Nikki smiled.

Elliot did not have it in him to say anything at all. He just followed along, knowing he was truly doomed if he didn't dose himself as soon as he was given the opportunity.

## Chapter 90: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

Mason pulled the van up outside the warehouse and saw the rental car. It was one of those Enterprise jobs with the ridiculous E on the trunk. Mason and Karen looked at each other, as they knew this neighborhood was a lousy place to leave a car.

"Who would leave an Enterprise rental here?" Mason asked them.

"Someone with plenty of insurance," Karen shrugged.

"Strader?" Jim suggested.

"Shit," Mason said, "I'm going around back. Karen, if I come tearing out or if you hear shots you are to get this rig out of here."

"Right," Karen nodded, "going armed?"

"For now," Mason nodded.

"I think I'll take a nap," Jim said, "it's been a rotten day."

"Don't even start..." Karen warned.

Mason chuckled and left the van quickly. He went into the alley and looked at the wall, quickly finding the same window that Strader did over an hour earlier. Mason looked at the dumpster itself and saw the blood on the dumpster. Careful to leave it alone, he climbed up and looked into the window.

Mason saw the ambulance first off, but it didn't tell him much. The bodies he saw on the floor of the told him much more. He jumped off the dumpster and jogged over to the van, quickly entering.

"This is the place," Mason said, "there are bodies inside. I'm going in."

"Want backup?" Karen asked him.

"Yes," Mason nodded, "let's go. You too, Jim."

"You mean I get to leave the van?" Jim asked, surprised.

"You know the body," Mason said, "I want you there."

"Right," Jim nodded, "wear gloves?"

"You got it," Mason nodded.

The three of them went to the door and walked inside. The ambulance was parked inside and the bodies were left in the same place that they died. Mason went for the body that looked most familiar first.

"That's Strader," Mason said, shaking his head sadly, "It looks like he found Bolantine before we could."

"That's not good," Karen said, "Bolantine is one of us now, isn't he?"

"Yes," Jim said, "looks like two people were fed an IV. Probably Bolantine and his bitch."

"Get those packs out of here," Mason said, "I don't want any of the formula left hanging around to become evidence."

"Got it," Jim agreed, "what do I do with it?"

"Get it out of here," Mason said, "put it in a pack in the van along with the extra guns. Jim, your job will be to walk down the street with the stuff and get it out of here."

"And us?" Karen asked him.

"We stay to meet Holbein," Mason said, "and pray that we can figure out a lie that will work to keep him in the dark in the meantime."

"I'm on it," Jim nodded, "let me get a bag out of the ambulance."

"Who are the other two?" Karen asked Mason, "Any guesses?"

"The missing Doctor and Nurse," Mason shrugged, "they're dead, not going to tell us much."

"The girl was raped, Mase," Jim said as he checked out the bodies, "she's got a lot of bruising and she's not wearing anything down there."

"Elliot," Karen said, "Bolantine can't have been awake long enough to rape anyone. Spending several days in close proximity to psycho chick probably drove him mad."

"Most likely bet," Mason nodded, "get that stuff out of here, Jim."

"I doubt he was much with the ladies, since I look better than he does and still knew well how to make a deal with a whore," Jim agreed, "what now?"

"Time to make a few calls," Mason told him, "First Kosmo. I'll do that, you start cleaning up."

Mason pulled out a cell phone and went through the process to get a hold of Kosmo. It was a quick call, one that left him smiling a bit when he was done. Kosmo had made quite a bit of progress.

"Bolantine isn't going to get too far," Mason said, "Kosmo found a pile of Swiss accounts. We've got quite a bit of money waiting for us and Bolantine is pretty much broke."

"Good," Karen nodded, "now to call Holbein."

"You got it," Mason nodded and selected the number he'd put in for Marcus Holbein. It took a few rings, but Holbein finally answered his phone.

"Marcus," Mason said into the phone, "this is Stone. I've made a discovery I think you need to see. Colonel Strader is dead. You'd better get out here..."

## Chapter 91: MacLean's Clothing, Seattle, WA

Bolantine and company had taken refuge in the back rooms of MacLean's Clothing, a store that hadn't made a profit in nearly fifty years of existence but had served as a wonderful tax write-off and front. It was also one of the last places that Bolantine had firsthand knowledge of.

"How much can we trust him?" Nikki asked Bolantine, "That man looks like he's about ready to croak."

"I've kept this store alive for fifty years," Bolantine told her, "I don't think he'll risk what is left of his golden years by fucking with me."

"What now?" Elliot asked him, "When do I get paid?"

"Hold your horses," Bolantine said, "I need to get a hold of some cash. This isn't going to be an easy task."

"You don't have the money," Elliot exclaimed.

"I didn't expect to be shot and have to leave my house," Bolantine growled, "I don't even have an accurate set of ID."

"Not like you would match the picture anyway," Nikki chuckled, "you look younger than when I first met you. Except for the hair."

"So I'm fucked," Elliot said, "Goddamn it..."

"The money is the least of your problems now," Bolantine said, growling, "I just need to get access to my cash."

"You promised..." Elliot started and was promptly smacked across the face.

"Shut up, asshole," Bolantine said, pushing the little man, "Don't forget that I can bury you anytime."

"Why don't you just gag the little dipshit?" Nikki asked Bolantine, "Not like he can do much about it now."

"No!" Elliot exclaimed, "Please..."

"Sit down and shut up," Bolantine told him, "I'm not going to warn you again."

Elliot went over to a corner and did what he was told. He knew that he had made a monster and that he had only the barest thread keeping him from becoming one of Bolantine's victims. Bolantine watched him for a moment and decided that the little man was very little threat at this moment. He turned back to Nikki and smiled.

"I always told you we'd change the world," Bolantine said, "and it's going to start from right here."

"I still can't quite grasp this yet," Nikki said, her eyes searching Bolantine, "Why did you keep me alive when you could have had anyone?"

"I never wanted anyone else," Bolantine told her, "you're the one person I've ever met that thinks the same way I do."

"You think we can do it this time?" Nikki wondered.

"With that serum," Bolantine said, a wide smile forming on his face, "We'll have an army that can rule the world. I will be king and you will be my queen."

"I like the sound of that," Nikki said and kissed Bolantine hard, biting his lip a little, "I like being alive."

"We're going to be together a long time," Bolantine said, "are you ready for that?"

"Do we get to raise some hell in the process?" Nikki asked with a smile.

"Would I prevent you from that?" Bolantine grinned, "You were full of life back then. I'd be disappointed if you didn't go back to your old ways. Now that I've got my youth back I may even join you in them."

"Think we can have some fun?" Nikki wondered.

"Absolutely," Bolantine nodded, "but we need some money first. Time to make some phone calls."

"I see you've been planning on this for a while," Nikki said, "but how do you get the money with a few calls?"

"It's a brave new world, Nikki my dear," Bolantine said as he picked up a telephone, "a lot has changed since you were shot. It's an electronic world now. Money can be transferred with little more than a phone call."

"This is going to take some getting used to," she said, shaking her head, "I didn't even recognize that little device as a telephone."

"Don't worry my love," Bolantine said as he dialed some numbers he had remembered, "I may have spent a lot of money keeping you alive and getting us reawakened, but I haven't spent it all. I've been planning for this day for nearly thirty years."

"I'm watching you," Nikki told him.

Bolantine let the phone ring and it was picked up by a very snooty sounding voice with a Swiss accent. Bolantine smiled and readied the account numbers in his head.

"Your account number sir," the man asked him.

"Certainly," Bolantine said and rattled off the number, amazed to find just how clear his memory now was.

"One moment please," the voice said.

Bolantine waited patiently and Nikki leaned up against him. He brushed her graying hair to the side and in a few moments the man came back.

"I'm sorry sir," the man said, "but it appears that this account has been closed out."

"Say what?" Bolantine exclaimed, his eyes going wide, "When?"

"I'm afraid I can't..." the man said before Bolantine interrupted him.

"I'm the account holder," Bolantine snapped, "I gave you the code. Tell me when and by whom it was closed."

"This morning," the man said, "And it was closed by you. Is there another account you'd like to check?"

"One more," Bolantine said, firing off another number.

"That one was closed at the same time sir," the man said."

"Goddamn it!" Bolantine yelled and threw the phone.

"The wonders of a modern age," Nikki said, an evil smile on her face.

"Nobody had those numbers," Bolantine said, "even that dipshit Alvin didn't have those numbers."

"I thought nobody could break the Swiss," Nikki said, "they were secretive as hell back when I was around the first time."

"Last I knew that hadn't changed," Bolantine told her, "someone is making a move on me. Someone other than Alvin. Someone other than the feds. They couldn't have moved this quick."

"It's him," Elliot said over in the corner.

"Who?" Nikki said.

"Him," Elliot said, his eyes glazing a little.

"Him who," Bolantine said, "start making sense you twit."

"The test subject," Elliot said, looking at Bolantine with his dead eyes, "He's still out there."

"What test subject?" Nikki wondered.

"That cop?" Bolantine asked, "The one that Kasta shot while icing Tracer?"

"Deke Kasta?" Nikki said, "That son of a bitch is still around?"

"His kid," Bolantine told her, "I sent him out to ice this cookie that went turncoat on me. He did it, but when I sent him to pick this moron's ass up he got himself killed."

"He's coming for us," Elliot said, a little more panic in his eyes.

"Let him come," Bolantine said, "he's not a superman. We've got the same powers as he does. Let the motherfucker come."

"What do we do now?" Nikki asked him.

"We need money," Bolantine said, "we also need to take care of our hair. We stand out like sore thumbs with this."

"You're easy," Nikki said, "a quick shave will take care of you. We do that to me and I'll look mighty strange."

"We need money first," Bolantine said, "the hair may work with us for that."

"You're treading on my turf," Nikki giggled, "first day awake and we're planning a robbery."

"That's right," Bolantine nodded, "but this time we're not going to hit a civilian target. My drug dealers make more money and won't go to the cops."

"I take it we can't just ask," Elliot said, "it is your money after all."

"Not anymore," Bolantine said, "I'm supposed to be nearly 90. Nobody on the street has ever seen me like this."

"And most of them were in grade school when I was still around," Nikki said, "so we do it the hard way."

"You ready to go for the big one again?" Bolantine asked her.

"Absolutely," Nikki smiled.

Elliot sat there and just looked blankly at the wall. He did not care much by this point.

## Chapter 92: Old Warehouse, Seattle, WA

"You two have some serious explaining to do," Marcus Holbein fumed at Mason and Karen, "first, you come tramping in on my jurisdiction. Then you and our late Colonel friend here have an argument in my crime scene without telling me what over. Then you come here and supposedly find the same Colonel's body."

"What do you mean supposedly?" Mason asked him, "Have you got an accusation to make?"

"Listen," Karen told Marcus, "we didn't shoot him. We had no reason to."

"If you didn't do it then who did?" Marcus asked them, "You were the only ones who knew he was here."

"If I'd killed him it wouldn't have been like that," Mason said, "whoever did that took pleasure in it. I don't have it in me to take life like that."

"Care to prove it?" Marcus asked him, "Show me your gun."

"Sure," Mason nodded, passing over his .45, "It hasn't been fired in a while."

Marcus knew from the way that Mason acted he did not do it. He smelled the weapon and handed it back. There was no smell of cordite, which meant that the gun had not been fired in a while.

"So who did it?" Marcus asked them.

"I don't know," Mason lied, "but I have a few guesses."

"Bullshit," Marcus growled, "you know damn well who did it, but you're still not going to say anything."

"You don't want to know," Mason assured him, "if you find the man who did this then you're really going to be in trouble."

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean you cryptic bastard?" Marcus asked him, "Give me something to work with here!"

"I don't think you need us," Karen observed, pointing over to the door, "I think your answers just walked in. He can probably tell you more than we can."

Adam Strader just walked into the warehouse. Fresh off the plane it was obvious that he had just heard the news that was just beginning to leak. He rushed over and looked at his father's body. The stoic look on Adam's face was merely a mask, one that it did not take any clairvoyance to see through.

"Captain Strader?" Marcus said, leaving Mason and Karen for a minute.

"What happened?" Adam asked him, "Do you have any information yet?"

"They found him about an hour ago," Marcus said, indicating Mason and Karen, "They're clear so far, though they could have ditched the weapon."

Adam looked at them and his eyes flared. He did not recognize Karen at all, but he knew instinctively that he was looking at the man who had once been Tripton Mason. The file had had enough youthful pictures that he knew Mason had returned.

"I'm sorry, Adam," Mason said honestly, "I didn't want to see him go out like this."

Adam stared at Mason and pondered having him arrested then and there. Mason could see it in his eyes that he was angry and that most of the anger was directed at him. He looked at Karen and she nodded. They both knew that Adam could be either a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy. Mason decided to take the chance.

"Adam," Mason said, "we need to talk."

"We don't have anything to talk about," Adam seethed, "you killed him, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Mason said, "but I know who did and so do you."

"I wish you would tell me," Marcus said, complaining again, "None of this has made any sense since the start."

"Too many people," Adam said, "how can I trust you?"

"Do you have a choice at this point?" Mason said, "I suggest we continue this over in the corner."

"Now wait one goddamn minute," Marcus said, "you cannot withhold information from me on this."

"Marcus," Karen said, "calm down a little and I'll explain this a bit while they talk."

Mason took the cue and led Adam away while Karen started talking to Marcus. Adam looked at Mason hard, a look of severe anger permeating his eyes. Mason looked around and made sure they were far enough from the police officers to be able to talk without being overheard.

"I didn't kill your father," Mason said, "I don't work like that."

"The serum doesn't even tempt you, huh?" Adam said, "Bullshit. That's temptation enough for anyone."

"Exactly why I don't want it around anymore," Mason said, "don't make the same mistake your father did. The only way anyone will be safe again is to remove that serum from existence."

"And the fact that you have Entragian shouldn't even factor into it, eh?" Adam scoffed, "If you get Entragian we should have Sumner."

"Jim doesn't know how to make it," Mason said, "that wasn't faked. Karen destroyed his brain with that shotgun. He's not the same person who existed before."

"Lovely," Adam said, "why should I believe you?"

"I didn't ask for this," Mason told him, "I sure as hell didn't want it. I'm not out to kill anyone. I just want to destroy this serum before it destroys us all."

"But think of all the people it could help," Adam said, "it could make disease and dying a thing of the past."

"It's the natural order, Adam," Mason said, "People die, people are born. I really don't want to fuck with that."

"So what happens when you have kids with Karen?" Adam asked him, "You're going to go on and pretend like you're normal people? I don't think so. The world changed as soon as they shot your carcass up with that shit."

"I'm sterile," Mason said, "so is Jim. We ran tests on that on the way out here. Neither of us are ever going to be parents because of the mutations."

"Well," Adam said, "that's at least some good news."

"The bad news is that I don't think we're the only ones anymore," Mason said, "I think Bolantine was dosed with the serum."

"Bolantine killed my father, didn't he?" Adam said, realizing that Mason really did not do it.

"That's my guess," Mason nodded, "Elliot may have been able to shoot the doctor in the back, maybe even killed the girl, but I don't think he could have taken your father in a fight like that."

"So what do you want from me?" Adam said, "You expect me to help you destroy it?"

"You've seen what it can do," Mason told him, "do you want to see this unleashed upon the world?"

"I can't do that," Adam said, "I have an oath to uphold."

"Yes, you do," Mason nodded, "and most of the country would be horrified at what you and your father have been protecting. Think about that, Adam. Don't make the same mistake your father did in trying to go after it alone. I don't want to see you end up like him."

"Your concern is touching," Adam growled, "I could have you arrested right here you know."

"Not without explaining why," Mason said, "your father had the same idea. Karen and I are going to walk out of here and continue looking for Bolantine with or without you. I intend to make sure that he doesn't succeed in whatever he's planning. I hope that you decide to help instead of becoming part of the problem."

"How do I get a hold of you?" Adam asked as Mason started to walk away.

"Use the number that you got from the tap of Chris Gabriel's phone," Mason said, smiling, "I'm sure you still have it."

"How did you..." Adam said and thought better of it, "Dad must have said something that let it slip."

"It was the only way he could have known Jim was alive," Mason told him, "we didn't tell anyone else and I know Chris didn't tell you willingly."

Adam watched as Mason went over and said his goodbyes to Marcus. Karen had laid on a thick enough layer of bullshit that he allowed them both to walk off. He went over to Marcus and took another look at the police officer.

"You're not going to tell me what this is about, are you?" Marcus said, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Adam said honestly, "do you think Stone had anything to do with it?"

"No," Marcus said, "unless he's the best actor I've ever seen. He's one strange cat though."

"I'm beginning to see that," Adam nodded, "I take it you don't need me here."

"No," Marcus sighed, "but stay in town for a bit."

"I'm staying until I find out who killed my father," Adam promised, "they're still out there and dangerous."

"Just be careful," Marcus warned, "no need for you to end up like him."

Adam nodded and took one more look at the broken body of his father. He shook his head and left to go find the Edgewater Inn. He had a report to make and some questions to get answered, ones that he wasn't going to manage to do if he stayed near the body.

## Chapter 93: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

Adam Strader walked around the room and tried to get into the mindset of his father. He was still reeling from the news and not quite sure what to do or who to call. It took ten minutes of shuffling through the papers in Richard's briefcase to come up with the contact numbers for General Moreland at the Pentagon.

He sighed and poured himself a drink as he sat down in front of the telephone. He didn't want to have to make this call, but he knew that the Pentagon needed to know what happened out there. He picked up the phone and dialed the number given.

"Pentagon switchboard," a young woman's voice said.

"General Moreland please," Adam said, "it's Captain Strader."

"What is the code sir?" the young lady said.

"I have no idea," Adam told her, "this is my father's number. I need to talk to General Moreland."

"Your father should have given you the code," The woman said.

"Listen," Adam said, getting rather annoyed, "unless you've figured out a way to communicate with the dead there's no way anyone is getting that code from him."

"I'm sorry sir..." The woman started, "Colonel Strader is dead?"

"You got it," Adam told her, "now get General Moreland so I can let him know what happened."

"Hold on for a minute," the woman said and put him in Muzak hell.

Adam scowled at the phone and waited for a good five minutes before General Moreland's voice came onto the line. The man sounded frazzled when he came onto the line.

"Adam, is that you?" Moreland said, "Where the hell is your father?"

"He got killed a few hours ago," Adam said, "why the hell was he left to do this alone?"

"Who did it?" Moreland said, "Sumner or the test subject?"

"Neither," Adam said, "I think Sumner got to Bolantine first. There's a possibility that Bolantine was dosed with the serum."

"Shit," Moreland said, fear entering his voice, "Did you at least get any of the serum?"

"It was gone when I got there," Adam told him, "the test subject found Dad's body first. My guess is that he destroyed the evidence."

"The test subject?" Moreland said, "Why didn't you grab him?"

"And create a ruckus in public?" Adam said, "Are you mad? He's covered himself well. We try that and we might as well put this on the evening news."

"Does the serum still survive?" Moreland asked him.

"Elliot still does," Adam said, "the odds are that as long as he does so does the serum."

"Jesus," Moreland growled, "this is a gigantic cluster fuck. How much do the locals know?"

"Nothing," Adam told him, "dad didn't tell them anything and I know I didn't. It isn't in the test subject's interest to reveal it either."

"What is his goal?" Moreland asked him, "I'm assuming you talked to him."

"Mason?" Adam said, thinking, "He claims that he wants to destroy the serum."

"Great," Moreland said sarcastically, "Congressman Duggan is going to tear us a new asshole over this if he gets wind of it. We've broken god knows how many state and federal laws with this mess."

"So give me enough people and we'll round them all up," Adam told him, "Mason is in town and Bolantine can't be that hard to find. I just need the resources."

"Those resources cause questions to be asked," Moreland told him, "I couldn't give you a pack of gum at this point. Duggan is already crawling up my ass about us spending a chunk of money to remove Entragian's clinic."

"My father died for this mission!" Adam exclaimed, "He died because he didn't have the support he needed. I'm not going to go down like he did."

"Is there anything connecting your father to the serum?" Moreland asked him.

"What?" Adam said, surprised, "Other than the fact he died where Bolantine woke up?"

"Nobody knows about the serum though," Moreland said, "I think we might have to keep it that way. I want you out of there."

"Say what?" Adam exclaimed, "That serum is out there and it's not going to go away!"

"The army didn't have anything to do with it," Moreland said, "and if the public learns any different we're all going to jail."

"So you're just going to let Bolantine walk off with it?" Adam exclaimed, "That's not an answer!"

"This is being taken over by an intelligence team," Moreland said, "your father loused it up by getting killed. You are to rejoin your unit tomorrow."

"And what about my father?" Adam told him, "Someone has to deal with his death!"

"Of course," Moreland said, breathing for a moment, "You can take two days to deal with arrangements. I cannot explain any more away. I've had you too long as it is."

"So you're turning it over to intelligence?" Adam said, aghast at the thought, "The same people who thought that Saddam Hussein was a choir boy back in the 80's?"

"You're out of line, Strader," Moreland warned him, "you have two days. Get your father's corpse and get out of Seattle. If you talk to anyone about this I'll make damn sure you spend the rest of your career doing weather research in Antarctica."

"Yes sir!" Adam said, deciding not to argue with him anymore, "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No," Moreland said, "just remember what I said."

Adam waited for the general to click off the phone before standing up and kicking a chair across the room. He was seething with anger and not quite sure what to do. His father was dead and he was certain that the military was going to sweep it under the carpet.

Adam spent a few minutes going through his father's notes and found exactly what he expected, a lot of writing but very few solid facts. His father had been spinning his wheels. The only one who had any initiative at all at this point was Bolantine.

He finally decided to make a phone call. He pushed his hair back and dialed the number for his house back in Virginia. It rang about twice before he heard a familiar voice answer the phone.

"Hello?" Tracy Strader said over the line.

"Glen awake again, Trace?" Adam asked her.

"No worse than usual," Tracy told him, "where the hell are you, Adam?"

"Seattle," he told her, "they pulled me for a special mission with my father."

"Your father?" Tracy said, surprised, "Last I knew he was nothing but a drunkard on the edge of being discharged."

"He's dead, Trace," Adam said, "he was killed this afternoon."

"Shit," Tracy said, her voice losing some power, "Are you ok?"

"It happened before I touched down," Adam said, "the army is going to put a clamp down on it."

"Do want to know?" Tracy asked him.

"Probably not," Adam sighed, "this whole thing is a mess that Dad happened to run across while doing an inspection for the Pentagon."

"Are you in trouble, Adam?" Tracy asked him.

"Not yet," Adam said, "they pulled me off this project a few minutes ago. I've been ordered to go back to my unit after I take care of dad's remains."

"You don't sound happy about this," Tracy said, "what else is going on?"

"They're putting this in the hands of military intelligence, Trace," Adam told her, "and this is something that could have worldwide ramifications if it gets out."

"And you're right in the middle of it," Tracy sighed, "what could be that important?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Adam told her honestly, "but it's something dangerous, something that probably would have been better off not having been invented."

"You're thinking about bucking the army, aren't you?" Tracy sighed.

"This crap has already been responsible for a number of deaths," Adam said, "it's only going to get worse."

"Let the army handle it, Adam," Tracy pleaded with him, "take care of your father and come home."

"Right," Adam sighed, "let the army handle it."

"Bucking the army is not a good idea," Tracy said, "we need you home, not in a stockade."

"I know," Adam said, half believing it, "I'll be home soon, Trace. I have to deal with burial arrangements for dad first. I'll be home probably day after tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," Tracy told him, "I'm sorry to hear about Richard's death. He was a drunk, but he was a good man too."

"Yeah," Adam agreed, "that he was. I think I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"I love you," Tracy told him.

"Love you too hon," he told her and put the phone back on the hook.

He sighed and downed the last of his scotch, putting the glass down on the desk. He went over to the bed and sat back, rubbing his temples a bit. He curled up and tried to let the stress die down, finally falling into a state that was half awake and half asleep.

## Chapter 94: West Seattle, WA

Jim Entragian sat in a rundown Jack in the Box restaurant about four blocks down from where they had found the bodies. He was beginning to get bored enough to start making eyes at the ugly woman running the cash register when Mason and Karen walked into the place.

"Enjoying your dinner, Jim?" Mason said as he sat down.

"Bored out of my skull," Jim said, "where the hell have you two been?"

"Had to fill out a bunch of paperwork for Holbein," Karen told him, "we also got to meet the late Colonel's son."

"Adam is in town, huh?" Jim said, mildly surprised, "He must be pissed."

"Putting it mildly," Mason said, "he got to see what Bolantine left of his father. The kid is some form of pissed."

"Livid," Karen agreed, "you talked to him, Mase. How pissed is he?"

"I don't think he'll do something stupid," Mason said, "especially since he's got a wife and kid."

"What would you do if you found your dad like that?" Karen asked him.

"Probably buy Bolantine a drink," Mason chuckled, "but my dad was an asshole. I'm betting Richard was a decent father."

"No bet," Jim said, "so what do we do now?"

"We get out of here," Karen said, "what did you do with the stuff?"

"I found a couple of street bums with a fire," Jim told them, "FTU 237 makes one hell of a pretty fire."

"How did you know the name?" Mason asked him, "You said you didn't remember anything."

"I don't," Jim told them, "it was written on the bottles."

"Great," Karen chuckled, "so we've at least exhausted his supply."

"Probably," Mason agreed, "Elliot didn't have a chance to take much so he probably used it on the two of them."

"So how do we find them?" Jim asked.

"We wait," Mason said, "I have a suspicion we'll be hearing from Adam in a few hours."

"You think he's going to buck the army?" Karen asked him, "Ever the eternal optimist, aren't you Mase?"

"We're the only ones left he can turn to," Mason said, "the army is going to batten down the hatches on this now that the Colonel is dead. We're all running out of time."

"Kosmo has cut off the money supply," Jim said, "so right now we're on even terms."

"Maybe even a bit better," Karen smiled, "Mason knows the street. I bet Bolantine has not even driven a car since the 1960s. Nikki is going to be lost because she has been a corpse for 30 years."

"I'm willing to bet that if they have the same abilities we do he will get around that problem," Mason said, "Bolantine didn't rule Seattle for five decades by being a dummy. He's probably itching to try out his new body too."

"So who do you think we'll hear from first?" Jim asked him.

"I'm hoping Strader," Mason said, "because if we hear from Bolantine it means that something really nasty is about to happen."

"So we ride out the night and wait?" Karen asked, "Is that what you mean?

"All we can do," Mason said, "Bolantine is now cut off. He has not had time to realize just what his new status means. He cannot go back to his old life. If he tries, the army will grab him."

"That's only if we don't find him first," Jim said, "so is it another night of movies?"

"I don't think we'll have to wait long," Mason said, "let's get out of here. We need to pick up a police scanner before the stores close. You might as well buy a book or something too, Jim. Because after the other night you're not going anywhere."

"Funny," Jim said, "how the hell was I supposed to know?"

"Don't sweat it," Karen smiled, "you're not the first man to let his dick get him shot. Just the first to walk away from it as clean as you did."

The three of them left the fast food restaurant and got into the van. Mason drove out of the parking lot and looked for an electronics store. He didn't share Jim's optimism about it being a slow night. He knew someone would be moving before long. He felt it in his bones.

## Chapter 95: McLean's Clothing , Seattle, WA

Bolantine looked at Nikki and looked at the squalor of the city that he had lived in for nearly five decades. He had not actually carried a weapon since Nixon was president, but he felt good with the smoothed metal in his fingers. The pistol had a distinct feel to it, something he had forgotten over the years.

"You look comfortable with that," Nikki observed, "Just what are we going to do with the weapons?"

"That depends a lot on him," Bolantine said, "How much work will it be to reconstitute the serum?"

"It's a simple enough process," Elliot said, "I could make the base in about thirty minutes with the right equipment."

"What do you mean the base?" Nikki asked him, "I don't remember much about chemistry, but isn't the base just the holder for the drug?"

"This base has active ingredients," Elliot explained, "But the tricky part is getting the Paladnium needed to give it the mutative properties."

"What the hell is Paladnium?" Bolantine asked him, "And why is it tricky?"

"Paladnium is a compound that's found in some ore," Elliot said, "it's mildly radioactive, but it absorbs more than it gives. They often use it as first level reactor shielding. It keeps the plutonium radioactivity inside until it finally breaks down and simply becomes part of the reaction."

"So we need to get into a nuclear plant?" Nikki said, "Do they still have those?"

"The Paladnium they use at nuke plants has been bombarded," Elliot explained, "We need raw paladnium. That's why we had to work with the military idiots in the first place. We didn't want to have to deal with them, but it was the only way to get our hands on the stuff in the form we needed."

"Where does the military get it?" Bolantine asked him.

"I asked the kid who brought mine," Elliot said, "There are a few mines that produce it. It's usually in volcanic regions."

"This is a volcanic region," Nikki smiled, "maybe they have a mine up here that produces it?"

"How pure does it have to be?" Bolantine inquired.

"Not very," Elliot shrugged, "as long as it's separated paladnium that hasn't been bombarded by plutonium it should do the job."

"Great," Bolantine said, "All we need to do is find a closely held element and get an hour in a medical facility."

"That will take money," Nikki said, "Something that we seem to be lacking."

"Give me a few hours in a library and I'll find out where they produce Paladnium," Elliot told them, "The money part is up to you."

"The library at the university should be open," Bolantine said, nodding his head, "We can skip the money. Why pay for what you can take by force?"

"Where?" Nikki asked him, cocking her head, "You have an idea?"

"Let's find out where the Paladnium is," Bolantine grinned, "we can find a hospital to raid when we have that."

"Groovy," Nikki smiled, "sounds like you've come over to my side of the fence."

"No reason not to," Bolantine smiled, "I've been nearly immobile for ten years. It's time to break in this new body."

"Sounds dangerous," Elliot shuddered, "I don't know if I like that. Can't I stay at the library?"

"We need you to make the shit, but we need transportation first," Bolantine said, "time to go grab a car."

"Grand theft auto," Nikki smiled, "oh how the mighty have fallen. About time, B."

"Yeah," Bolantine chuckled, "let's go."

Elliot shook his head and followed along. He knew that Bolantine was his best shot at getting money, and once he created more of the serum he could actually take it himself. He just hoped that he'd live that long.

They walked out of the store and went to the nearest car they could find, a five year old Chevy sedan. Bolantine didn't see anyone of consequence around, so he put his hand through the window, sustaining a few minor cuts and bone breaks that healed within seconds. He smiled, impressed with the ability.

"Very nice," Bolantine nodded appreciatively, "It hurt, but it's better now."

"Cute," Nikki said, shaking her head, "So this is what a car looks like now?"

"All electronics, no style," Bolantine agreed, "I haven't hotwired a car since 1933. Not quite the same deal."

"Don't look at me," Elliot said, "I've never done it."

"I take it you can't just tie the wires anymore," Nikki said, looking at the electronic tangle.

"Well," Bolantine said and thought about it, "If it worked for Arnold..."

Bolantine brought his hand down on the case behind the steering wheel, breaking it open. He removed the locking mechanism and turned on the car. Nikki nodded appreciatively and smiled. Elliot merely shook his head and got into the back seat.

"Let's see if I remember how to drive," Bolantine chuckled, "I haven't driven a car in over twenty years."

"Groovy," Nikki said and slipped into the passenger seat with Bolantine.

## Chapter 96: Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

The wind was fierce, enough so that Adam could not tell which way it was coming anymore. Only the occasional flash of lighting punctuated the darkness and the rain around him. He was not sure where he was, but it was not a pleasant location.

He was able to see a form in the distance, a man but one he could not quite pick up on. Adam walked through the rain towards the man, hoping to find some answers. The answers he saw were not the ones he wanted to see, however, for the man standing there in the distance was Bolantine.

Bolantine had an evil smile on his newly youthful face. His foot was planted firmly on Richard's neck. Adam could do little but watch as Bolantine put two bullets into his father's head. The smile widened as the puddle of blood expanded in the wet dirt below his father's head.

"No!" Adam yelled and rushed Bolantine, pulling his own weapon, "Not again!"

Bolantine looked up and just laughed as Adam approached and fired. The bullets went through his flesh, passing through and healing as if they had never been there. Bolantine shook his head and aimed his own weapon at Adam.

"There's just no getting rid of you Straders," Bolantine said and pulled the trigger.

Adam Strader woke up in the bed in the Edgewater Inn and narrowly avoided screaming loud enough to attract attention. He sat bolt upright and ran a hand over his head. The sweat was running down his face as he stood up and walked into the bathroom. He turned on the lights and looked at himself in the mirror.

"You can't let it go, can you?" Adam asked his image, "I guess not."

He walked over to the desk and looked at the folder he had brought with him. It took him only about two minutes to find the number that Gabriel had called. He breathed a silent apology to his wife before dialing the number and getting the expected tone of an answering system.

"This is Strader," Adam told the answering system, "I've been thinking about what you said. We need to talk, Mason. I'm staying at my father's suite at the Edgewater Inn."

Adam put down the phone and then walked back over to the dry bar. He poured himself another shot to steady his nerves, wondering if he had just made things better or worse.

## Chapter 97: Movie Theatre, Seattle, WA

"Good god that movie was terrible," Karen said as they walked out of the theatre, "I didn't know they still made movies this bad."

"It had Nic Cage in it," Mason shrugged, "His movies are usually pretty good."

"I didn't think it was so bad," Jim told them, "I rather liked it."

"You would," Karen said, shuddering, "But then you two spent half the trip here watching Chuck Norris movies, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"So what now?" Jim asked them.

"We check the phone and the TV," Mason told them, "if Bolantine has pulled anything it will make the news."

Mason turned on the phone and let it sync up with the network. He was not surprised at all to find the message indicator flashing as it checked in. He smiled and sat down in the driver's seat. Karen sat on the floor and let Jim have his bed space. It had been pretty well decided that the front bed was Jim's, while Karen and Mason shared the back.

"Any bets?" Mason asked them.

"Strader," Karen said, shaking her head, "You've been predicting this for hours."

"Could be Gabriel looking for an update," Jim shrugged.

"No," Karen said, "I think the last thing he wants is to hear from us."

"Let's find out," Mason said and dialed the number.

Mason smiled as the message from Adam Strader played out. Karen and Jim knew that Mason was right before he had even finished. Once he closed the phone he looked at his two partners.

"It was Strader," Mason confirmed, "now we just have to figure out how to do this right."

"Let me listen to the message," Karen said, "maybe I can tell something."

"Sure," Mason nodded and queued it up again, "there you go."

Karen listened to the short message and nodded as she listened. She looked at Mason and handed him the phone, which she still did not know how to turn off.

"I don't think it's a trap," Karen said, "he was nervous, but not of the same type. He is doing something that could get him into a lot of trouble."

"Let's call him," Jim said, "fire up the phone?"

"No," Mason said, shaking his head, "Let's use a pay phone."

"There's one across the street," Karen suggested.

Mason nodded and hopped out of the van. The theatre had a phone outside that surprisingly, for the area, worked properly. He dropped a couple quarters into it and dialed the number for the Edgewater.

"Edgewater inn," the woman said, "how may I direct your call?"

"Colonel Strader's room," Mason said.

"May I have your name please?" the woman said.

"Stone," Mason said.

"Hold please," the woman said.

"Go start the van, Karen," Mason said, "I want us to be able to get out of here quickly."

"Right," Karen nodded, "come on, Jim."

"Strader here," Adam's voice came though on the phone, "Mason, is that you?"

"Depends on what you want to talk about," Mason said, "you have two minutes before I hang up the phone."

"Bolantine needs to be stopped," Adam said, "I can't let this go."

"What about the serum?" Mason asked him.

"Do you really want to destroy it?" Adam asked him.

"We've already destroyed what of it we could find," Mason told him, "I don't think they have any left. Once we stop Elliot, the serum ceases to exist."

"Good," Adam said, "I'm in if you want me."

"What about the military?" Mason asked him, "I thought you were all gung ho to give this to them."

"They're trying to sweep my father under the carpet," Adam told him, "they removed me a few hours ago. My father is dead and they're entrusting this to military intelligence. I can't let this go down. Enough people are dead because of that shit."

"If you really believe that," Mason said, "get your stuff together. Walk north on Alaskan Way. When I'm satisfied you're alone I'll pick you up."

"You don't trust me, do you?" Adam said.

"You wouldn't if you were me either, kid," Mason told him, "I see one hint of official presence anywhere near you then you're on your own and you'll never hear from me again."

"Understood," Adam agreed.

"Bring a change of clothes," Mason instructed him, "if you're coming with me you'll be staying with one of us for the duration. I don't trust you yet. I have no reason to. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Adam said and put down the phone.

Mason put the phone back onto the cradle and walked back over to the van. Karen pulled out of the parking lot and looked at Mason, who sat back and lit a cigarette as he looked at them.

"He's coming over to our side?" Karen asked him.

"I think so," Mason said, "he sounded horrified. Said that Military Intelligence was going to take over."

"Serious contradiction in terms," Jim said, "not a good thing, I'm guessing."

"Means we're all in a serious mess of trouble," Karen sighed, "we're running out of time."

"So is Bolantine," Mason said, "the man isn't stupid. He knows that there are people after him. If Elliot is still with him, he probably even knows about us."

"So where does that leave us?" Jim asked them.

"Picking up Adam Strader," Mason said, "head towards the Edgewater. Adam will be walking north."

"Let's hope we're reading him right," Karen said, "otherwise we are all up shit creek."

"Only one way to find out," Jim said, "right Mason?"

Mason merely nodded and sat back in his seat rubbing his temples. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

## Chapter 98: University Library, Seattle, WA

"Paladnium," Elliot said, "there's a facility north of here that produces it."

"What type of place is it?" Bolantine asked him, "Anything about security?"

"It's a military research facility," Elliot told them, "probably guarded, but not horribly so. They tend not to go too far overboard. They expect more espionage than anything else."

"I thought you said they use Paladnium for reactor housing," Nikki questioned, "wouldn't they watch it carefully?"

"It's not a weapon's grade material," Elliot explained, "you can build a reactor without it, it's just used to make the reaction more efficient and safer. It's controlled because it's rare, not because it's dangerous."

"How much do you need?" Bolantine asked him.

"Enough," Elliot smiled, "I'm not that stupid. I'll make the serum. You just have to get me in there."

"What have we got for hardware, B?" Nikki asked him, "We need more than just a pop gun."

"Let me take care of that," Bolantine said, "I think I know the best way to handle this."

"How long do you need?" Nikki asked Elliot.

"Several hours," Elliot shrugged, "I can try to rush it, depends on how much pressure we're under."

"If we can slip in without much fanfare we might make it that way," Bolantine said, "but we need to move now. Will they have everything you need?"

"They should," Elliot nodded, "the question is how you plan on getting in?"

"That's our problem," Bolantine told him, "let's get moving. I want a supply of this serum before daylight. We can build our army tomorrow."

"Fab!" Nikki exclaimed, "I was waiting for some entertainment."

"You shall have it my dear," Bolantine grinned, "yes, you shall have it."

## Chapter 99: Alaskan Way, North of Edgewater Inn, Seattle, WA

Adam Strader felt like an utter idiot walking down the street like he was. He was carrying both his briefcase and a duffle bag with a change of clothes, following Mason's instructions. It was late and cold and he was getting rather annoyed at Mason's security measures.

Mason, on the other hand, was surprised that Adam was actually following directions so closely. He had been walking down the other side of the street pacing Adam for about five minutes. The younger man was nervous, but he was not being followed by anyone else.

"Good," Mason said to himself, "let's make the approach."

Karen watched from the parked van as Mason walked across the street. Mason had given them instructions to watch the approach and to go to the press if Adam screwed them, something that Karen was still betting against.

"Think Adam is really coming over to us?" Jim asked her.

"I think so," Karen nodded, "look at him. He's scared shitless, but not of us."

"I hope you're right," Jim shrugged, "it's Mason's ass in the sling if we're wrong."

"He knows the risks," Karen sighed, "now just watch for his signal."

Adam looked around, but forgot to check his six. Mason chuckled and walked up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. The younger Strader jumped into the air and turned around to find a laughing Mason.

"That wasn't funny!" Adam exclaimed, "How long did you plan to have me walking?"

"Until I was sure you were alone," Mason told him, still smiling, "We have no intention of becoming lab rats again. I've been there once, didn't like it. Have no intention of trying it again."

"I guess I can understand that," Adam nodded, "you satisfied?"

"We haven't been swooped upon yet," Mason told him, "come on. We have to talk anyway."

Mason looked at the van and gave the signal. Karen pulled up quickly while Jim opened the door. Adam looked inside and then looked at Mason again. Mason climbed into the van and offered a hand to Adam. Adam climbed into the van and took at look at the inside.

"Where did this come from?" Adam asked him, "I thought Gabriel..."

"Yes?" Mason said.

"Never mind," Adam sighed, "Gabriel must have been more involved with you than I thought."

"He saw what damage the serum could do," Karen said as she drove, "just like you have."

"True," Adam nodded, "so where are we going?"

"Mase?" Karen asked him, "Where are we going?"

"Drive around Seattle for a bit," Mason instructed her, "we're safer when we're not sitting ducks."

"Right," Karen agreed.

"So what's the next step?" Jim asked them, "How do we find them?"

"Bolantine has gone underground," Adam said, "he's just about disappeared."

"He can't go back to his old life anymore than we can," Mason reminded him, "the fact that we fucked over his money supply didn't hurt that much either."

"You did what?" Adam said, surprised, "How?"

"A hacker back east," Mason explained, "I had him run a financial attack on Bolantine because I knew he was in no condition to fight back. Probably the smartest thing we could have done."

"That's not legal," Adam explained.

"Neither was bugging Gabriel's phone," Karen quipped.

"I don't give a fuck about legal anymore," Mason said, "this is too important. This isn't some petty criminal. This is about a man who has no scruples and is now invulnerable. A man who wants the world and may have the tools needed to take it."

"If he can actually synthesize the serum again," Jim said, "I don't know what the hell we did to make it, but it couldn't have been simple."

"He's right," Adam nodded, "I've spent the last week going through the remains of the clinic. There was a lot of weird stuff in there."

"You know what I can't figure out," Mason said, "according to the records Jim and Elliot were working for Bolantine the whole time. Why the hell did they risk working for the military too?"

"I was wondering that myself," Jim said, "I don't have any real memory of his personality, but it just doesn't make sense."

"I never managed to get the initial write up for his program," Adam said, "just a manifest of what he received from us."

"I can think of something," Karen said from the driver's seat, "what did he get from the government?"

"Hmm," Adam said, "not a hell of a lot. Let me pull the list."

Adam Strader ruffled through the pile of papers he'd brought with him, finding the manifest that had been faxed to him in Boland Creek several days before. He started reading it over and sighed a little because it meant very little to him.

"Here," Adam said, handing it to Mason, "A bit of money and a few other things. Nothing I can see that would explain it unless they were broke."

"The money is secondary," Jim said, "I'm betting it wasn't much."

"Maybe a hundred grand or so over five years," Mason said, "chicken feed compared to what Bolantine was spilling into their shop."

"What about the other items?" Karen wondered.

"Jim," Mason said passing the paper to Jim, "want to take a look at this? You have more of a background in this than I do."

"Sure," Jim nodded and read, "most of this is basic medical research supplies some of them expensive but easily available. The only things on this list I don't get are Paladnium, Potassium Permanganate, and Mercuric Oxide. I don't know what the hell we would have been doing with any of those."

"What are they?" Mason asked him.

"Paladnium is a rare compound," Jim said, "slightly radioactive, it's used mostly for inner reactor housings because it can keep Plutonium leaks at bay. That's when they can actually find it. I'm amazed they let us have it. The government keeps a tight leash on that stuff."

"And the others?" Karen asked.

"Mercuric Oxide is a hazardous compound," Jim said, "it's unstable as hell and can't be kept in the open air. I don't remember what Potassium Permanganate is."

"It's a nerve gas base," Adam said, "I remember reading about that in some documents last year. They've been trying to come up for an antidote for the shit for thirty years now. They probably co-opted his group into that research."

"Did they get any of it more than once?" Mason wondered.

"Looks like we were getting regular amounts of the Paladnium," Jim said, "unless we were building a nuclear reactor I have no idea what we'd need two pounds of Paladnium for. Finding supplies of more than a half pound at a time are a bitch."

"Radioactive base might account for some of what happened to us," Mason said, "what do you think, Karen?"

"I just work here," She shrugged, "I don't know that end of the potato."

"I found the supplies of Potassium Permanganate and Mercuric Oxide," Adam said, "The remains of them were in a storage closet. I didn't see the Paladnium anywhere and it shouldn't have burned."

"Sounds like it might be an integral part of the serum," Mason said, "Now the question is where would someone get Paladnium around here?"

"Can I use your phone?" Adam asked him.

"Sure," Mason said, "who are you calling?"

"Roddy McClure," Adam said, "It's late, but he's always there. He's the guy who signs off on research stuff like the Paladnium."

"Go for it," Mason nodded, handing him a cloned cell phone, "Maybe we'll get lucky."

Karen drove randomly through the streets of Seattle while Adam made the call. Mason and Jim listened in as Adam spewed out a few lines of bullshit, proving again that they were all playing on the same team. Adam jotted down a few notes and clicked off the phone.

"I swear that man never sleeps," Adam said, shaking his head, "There's a facility up here that has a supply of non-exposed Paladnium."

"Non exposed?" Karen asked, "What does that mean?"

"The paladnium we received was pure," Jim said, reading the manifest, "It hadn't been used in a reactor, so it's non-exposed."

"Where is it?" Mason asked him.

"Medical research place outside of the city," Adam told him, "place by the name of Marden Mines Research Center."

"Did you get an address on that?" Mason asked Adam as he reached for the maps.

"Sure," Adam nodded and told them the address.

"That's outside the city limits," Mason said as he looked it up, "probably about an hour from here."

"Give me directions and I'll drive it," Karen said, "I won't be much use in planning on what to do about them."

"What do you have for weapons?" Adam asked him.

"I have some rifles," Mason admitted, "a few pistols. Nothing that will have an appreciable effect on the son of a bitch."

"Let's look and see what you have," Adam said, "since we've got time to kill and all."

"I wish you'd put it another way," Karen sighed, "Being dead isn't all fun and games you know..."

## Chapter 100: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

Bolantine parked the stolen car out of sight just down the road from the entrance to the Marden Mines Research Center. He walked out and looked at the guard post from a few hundred feet away. Nikki and Elliot joined him as they surveyed the place.

"Looks deserted," Nikki said as she looked.

"There's a guard at the gate," Bolantine said as he looked around, "probably more inside. This definitely isn't a high security installation."

"Good," Elliot said, "maybe we can sneak in without being noticed?"

"I wouldn't bet on that," Bolantine said, cocking his head a little as he thought about it, "Think the guard at the gate is alone?"

"One way to find out," Nikki said and promptly jogged down the hill.

"Nikki!" Elliot exclaimed and was silenced by Bolantine's hand on his shoulder.

"She always was a cowgirl," Bolantine explained, "let her work."

Nikki jogged across the street and walked up to the guard's shack. She did her best to make herself look cold and pitiful, something that was exceedingly easy to do with her small size and shabby clothes. The young guard walked out and looked at the young woman.

"Who are you?" the guard asked Nikki.

"M-m-my n-n-n-name is n-n-n-Nikki," she said, feigning shivering, "Car broke down..."

"Come on in here," the guard said, "I've got a phone and a space heater."

Nikki followed the guard inside the booth and was slightly surprised to see the camera setup. She was a child of the 60's, so she'd seen television but closed circuit was still something not widely used yet for her. The warmth felt good to her and she sat down where the guard instructed her.

"What is this place?" Nikki asked him.

"Medical research," the guard smiled, "only reason I'm here is because it's a military installation. They have a few of us at every post."

"R-right," Nikki nodded, "M-m-must b-be lonely."

"I've had worse duty. I spend most nights drinking coffee and watching TV," he said, shrugging, "Do you have someone you can call?"

"Y-yes," Nikki nodded.

The guard was young and was easily distracted. He pointed Nikki to the phone and went to check his monitors. Nikki feigned dialing a number and looked at the man. She smiled as she stood up and picked up a baton from the holder next to the phone.

Nikki lifted the baton and brought it down on the guard's neck. She let off a few strategic blows to his knees and back, knocking him down to the ground and mostly out cold. She used his own set of handcuffs to secure him and went out to give the signal to Bolantine and Elliot.

"She's good," Bolantine smiled as he jogged over and picked up Nikki, kissing her deeply.

"Guard is out cold," Nikki told him, "there are a whole bunch of TV screens in there."

"Good," Bolantine said, "closed circuit will let us survey the place."

"He said it was slow around here," Nikki told them, "you can question him some more if you want to."

"Let's see what you've bagged first," Bolantine said and entered the shack.

The guard was groaning and pulling at his bonds as Bolantine turned him over and propped him against the wall. The guard growled and looked up at the man standing over him.

"Good evening," Bolantine said as he pulled the guard's weapon out, "nice sidearm. Where are the other weapons?"

"Fuck you!" the guard exclaimed.

"Wrong answer," Nikki chuckled and looked at Bolantine.

Bolantine nodded agreement with Nikki and used the guard's own pistol to shoot him in the leg. The guard let out a scream that made Elliot wince. Nikki merely smiled as Bolantine walked around the guard.

"Now you know the price of withholding information," Bolantine said patiently, "I suggest you answer my questions quickly."

"Don't kill me," the guard pleaded in between moans of pain.

"Where are the guns?" Bolantine asked him again, "I won't ask a third time."

To punctuate his point he stepped on the guard's open wound and caused the man to groan hard. Bolantine's eyes pierced the man and left no question that he was serious. Mercy was not a lesson that one learned working for men like Al Capone.

"Lock box," the guard groaned, "under the seat."

"Where's the key," Bolantine asked him.

"Panel by the door," the guard mumbled.

"Got it," Nikki said, grabbing the key and going over to the box.

Nikki opened the box and withdrew two well kept M-16 rifles. She kept one and handed the other one to Bolantine, who spent a couple minutes checking the mechanism on it. He'd fired one of them on a range years before, but it took him a bit of time to remember how it worked.

"Very good," Bolantine said and then crouched down to look at the man again, "now how many guards are inside?"

"Get screwed," the guard rasped.

Bolantine didn't hesitate. He punished the insubordination with a shot to the upper leg with the rifle, tearing the leg half apart. Elliot jumped, but again Nikki remained impassive, not minding the violence at all.

"You're going to die soon," Bolantine told the guard, "you can die slowly, piece by piece, or you can tell me what I want to know and I'll put one in your forehead and end it quickly. Your choice."

"Bite me," the guard said and then screamed when Bolantine stepped on what was left of his leg.

"How many!" Bolantine exclaimed.

"Four," the man groaned.

"Thank you," Bolantine said as he raised the rifle and pulled the trigger, splattering the guard's brain against the wall.

"Messy," Nikki said approvingly, "but most definitely effective."

"Great," Elliot said, "you just killed another soldier."

"We're going to kill a lot more than that by the time we're done," Bolantine told him, "now let's get moving."

Finding the one guard roving over the lot was not very difficult in the snow, as his tracks were going around in his circuit. Nikki fired a single shot from her rifle and dropped the man in his tracks, thirty years not dulling her aim one bit. Bolantine went to the body and covered it in snow to make it harder to notice.

"Good shot," he told her, "ready to hit the main building?"

"Ready and willing," Nikki grinned, "I haven't had this much fun in years."

"Let's get this over with so I can get paid," Elliot said, grumbling and fully intending to take the first dose himself.

"Not having fun tonight, are you?" Bolantine asked him, "Pity. Let's get moving."

Elliot had a hard time keeping up with Bolantine and Nikki, who were rediscovering how much fun being young and mobile could be. He had never been in all that great of shape and he just could not keep up easily.

"I think we're losing him," Nikki said as she jogged.

"That's fine," Bolantine said, "he has nowhere else to go. We'll clean the place out before he gets there."

"Wait for me!" Elliot exclaimed.

Bolantine and Nikki stopped at the door and waited for Elliot to show up, chuckling as he huffed and puffed his way to the door. The doctor was definitely not happy as he made it over to the building.

"You going to live, Elliot?" Bolantine asked him, "I'd hate to see you croak before you make the serum."

"I'll live just as long as you," Elliot promised as he regained his breath, "you can go in first, though."

"Certainly," Bolantine said, a smile forming on his face, "You ready, Nikki?"

"Let's go," Nikki nodded, "quick in, kill the guards and take anyone we can find?"

"That's the plan," Bolantine agreed, "that will give us until daybreak, most likely."

"On three?" Nikki asked him, "Anyone with a gun dies, right?"

"Right," Bolantine nodded, "1... 2... 3... Go!"

Nikki and Bolantine rushed into the building and looked for anyone who was still moving around. The first inside guard, who for some reason didn't hear any of the commotion outside, didn't hear a thing until Nikki was in the same room. They both fired at the same time and both scored fatal hits in the chest. Unfortunately for the guard, he did not share the same regenerative power that allowed Nikki to get up and laugh it off.

Bolantine found the last guard talking to a young woman. Neither one had much of a chance to do anything before Bolantine killed them both with the rifle. Their bodies hit the floor, leaving a nice large pool of blood for Bolantine to step around as he checked the nearby rooms.

The main building of the research center was not overly large and it took them less then ten minutes to get the remaining two living doctors herded into one room and tied together.

"Why are we letting them live?" Nikki asked him.

"We'll off them when they tell Elliot where everything is," Bolantine said, "why don't you go get Elliot and escort him inside."

"Certainly," Nikki nodded and nibbled at him really quick.

Bolantine watched at the small girl walked down the hall and returned with a very scared Elliot Sumner. Elliot walked into the room and saw the body of the guard Nikki killed on the floor, as well as the two doctors sitting on the table.

"Find what you need and get the stuff made," Bolantine told him, "we're on a timetable here."

"Right," Elliot agreed, "where do you keep the chemicals?"

The doctors looked like they were about to balk when Bolantine aimed his weapon at them again. They quickly changed their minds and directed Elliot to the room where the raw chemicals were stored. Elliot found what he needed and brought it into the lab room.

"Keep outside," Elliot said, "I don't work well with people watching over me."

"Hurry it up," Bolantine growled, "we're running out of time."

"Right," Elliot nodded and closed the door.

"Do you trust him?" Nikki asked as she sat down across from the door.

"Of course not," Bolantine said, "but he's got nowhere else to go. We're here for good. He screws with us we'll be chasing him until the end of his life."

"I guess," Nikki sighed, "this is still so much to get used to."

"We're together again," Bolantine said, sitting next to her, "That's enough."

"True," Nikki agreed, leaning against him, "I can't believe you kept me going that long."

"You're the only person I've ever met who thinks like I do," Bolantine told her honestly, "I couldn't bear to think that was gone for good. I knew you still existed in that shell. I just had to figure out how to get you back."

"You did well," Nikki agreed, "now we just have to move quickly to make sure we stay together and stay well."

"The world is going to be ours, Nikki," Bolantine promised her, "it's time for a new world order with us at the top of the heap, just like we always wanted."

"I like the sound of that," Nikki smiled as she continued to lean against him, "let's just dream a little of world domination while we wait, hmm?"

"Sounds like fun to me," Bolantine agreed and stroked her dark hair.

## Chapter 101: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

"Here it is," Mason said as he pointed out the entrance, "what type of security is this place going to have, Adam?"

"It's a low security installation," Adam said, "four to eight guards, depending on the size and how persuasive the director was with the provo's office."

"So they might not have much more than a front gate guard," Mason said, "comforting, isn't it?"

"Paladnium is not a high priority item," Adam shrugged, "what do you expect?"

"So what do we do?" Karen asked them, "Do I pull up to the gate?"

"I'm staying out of this one," Jim shrugged, "I know nothing about this stuff."

"Adam," Mason said, "are your credentials are enough to get through that gate?"

"Should be," Adam nodded, "I doubt very much that Moreland has done anything to countermand it."

"Let's go take a look at it," Mason said, "see if we can get inside. Maybe if we can get in there before Bolantine we can stop him."

"I don't know how," Adam told him, "but I don't have anything better. Let's go."

"To the gate?" Karen asked.

"Let Adam drive," Mason said, "we aren't here. It'll make a much easier entrance."

"Right," Karen nodded and relinquished the driver's seat, "All yours, Adam."

Adam got into the driver's seat and pulled the van up to the gates. Mason, Karen and Jim sat in the back waiting for word from Adam. Adam looked at the guard shack, but there was no motion from it. He looked back at Mason and shrugged his shoulders.

"There's nothing moving in there," Adam said.

"Stay put," Mason said as he drew his weapon, "I'm going to go take a look."

"Right," Adam nodded, "careful."

Mason nodded and climbed out of the van. He went around the back and to the guard's shack. It did not take him long to realize that there was no reason for the weapon there. He stepped back outside and waved to the others.

"They're here," Mason told them, "the guard was killed. Looks like he was tortured for information."

"Shit," Jim said, "that's not good."

"It could be," Karen shrugged, "we could wrap it up here."

"Let's get the van inside," Mason said as he climbed into the back, "we'll approach the building slowly. I want to make sure we don't fuck this up. Bolantine is going down."

"Any suggestions?" Adam asked them, "You've got more experience with this than I do."

"Aim for the head," Karen told him as she climbed into the driver's seat again, "blow his brains out and it may not kill him, but it'll take him out of the game long enough to deal with him."

"Right," Adam nodded, "so how are we doing this?"

"With these," Mason said, pulling the mattress back and revealing a cache of rifles, "I picked these up at a show two years ago, praying I'd never need them. I had the compartment built on a break. Nobody ever knew they were there."

"Damn," Adam said, whistling, "These legal?"

"Pre-ban," Mason grinned, "full and semi. I take it you know how to use them, Adam?"

"Hell yes," Adam smiled, "I came up in the infantry. Let me at it."

"I don't suppose it would help to point out I don't have a clue how to use one of these," Jim said, "I doubt Karen does either."

"I'm willing to learn," Karen said, parking the van, "Let's make it quick though."

"It's easy," Adam instructed, "pull the bolt back, aim it in the general direction of your target and shoot."

"I'll take the lead," Mason said, "let's do this quickly."

"Try not to shoot me, guys," Adam said, "I won't recover as quickly as you."

"Stay in the back," Mason instructed, "they may not be as good with weapons, but they can take a bullet and not get hurt."

"Can you feel the love?" Karen asked Jim.

"Not really," Jim shrugged, "but the sarcasm is coming through loud and clear."

## Chapter 102: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

"Should we check on him?" Nikki asked Bolantine after nearly an hour of resting, "We don't have forever here. Someone is going to show up eventually."

"Yeah," Bolantine nodded, standing up and stretching a little, "Let's see what he's got."

They went into the room to watch the mad scientist at work. Elliot was in his element, putting the pieces of a chemical composition together. Neither Bolantine nor Nikki understood a whit about what he was doing, but Elliot seemed to know exactly what was going on.

"How much longer, Elliot?" Bolantine asked, "I'd sort of like to finish this before we get the army showing up here."

"I'm almost done," Elliot said, "we need the Paladnium. It's not in here."

"Fuck," Bolantine grunted, "where is it then?"

"How the hell should I know?" Elliot exclaimed, "Isn't that what you captured the idiots downstairs for?"

"Let's go have a talk with them," Bolantine suggested to Nikki, "we need some Paladnium."

"Whatever the hell that is," Nikki shrugged agreeably, "I'm following you."

The two of them walked down to the closet where they'd shoved the two people they'd let live. Bolantine opened the door and pulled them out, causing one of them to pee his pants.

"Lovely," Bolantine said dryly and tossed the man on the floor, "where is the Paladnium?"

"Paladnium?" the first man said, "What the hell..."

"Wrong answer," Bolantine said crossly, "where is it?"

"He's not in a very good mood," Nikki told the guy, "when B isn't in a good mood people tend to die."

"But Paladnium is useless for anything..." the man said, "The only place it's even halfway useful is in a reactor."

"Then there's no reason not to tell me where it is," Bolantine said, "I know it's here, where is it?"

"We don't keep it inside!" the other man exclaimed, "It's radioactive. What little we have left is in the mine."

"Fuck," Bolantine growled, "is the mine guarded?"

"No," the first man said, "Just locked."

"Thank you," Bolantine said and then fired off a few shots, killing them.

"Now what?" Nikki asked him.

"Let's talk to Elliot," Bolantine said, "no use in going to the mine without him or the formula. I don't know a damn thing about it."

Nikki shrugged. She did not care a damn about the formula anymore, but was willing to follow Bolantine. She had gotten to beat on people tonight and that was good enough for her. She had a suspicion that she was in for some more combat before the night ended.

They went back to Elliot and found him finishing a vat of a rather foul looking concoction, enough of a base for an army's worth of immortals if they could finish it properly.

"What now?" Bolantine asked him.

"We need the Paladnium," Elliot told him, "this is nothing but a foul smelling brew without it."

"It's in the mine," Bolantine said, "can you finish it there?"

"Should be able to," Elliot nodded.

"Grab that slop and let's go," Nikki told him, "stay armed?"

"Damn right," Bolantine nodded.

Nikki picked up the rifle again and nodded. She looked a bit strange holding the rifle that was almost as long as she was tall, but she knew how to hold it and enjoyed doing so. The three of them were heading to the front just about the same time that Mason and his crew were reaching the door.

"Shit!" Bolantine exclaimed, "We have company!"

"Bolantine!" Mason yelled, firing a shot from the rifle.

Elliot dived into another room as a shooting war erupted between Mason and Bolantine. Adam had the good sense to let the people immune to bullets fight this battle. He dodged out and took cover behind a nearby rock as the firefight started.

Nikki and Bolantine took cover behind a door and fired at Mason and Karen. Jim knew his aim was pitiful and circled around to see Elliot dive out of the window into the snow.

"I'm going for Elliot!" Jim yelled.

Bolantine looked at Nikki and wordlessly motioned for her to let off some cover fire. She did so and he grabbed the container of the base Elliot had put together. He then slid over into the area where Nikki was, taking a superficial shot to the arm in the process, one that healed immediately.

"Elliot ran," Bolantine told her, "this is the base."

"The mine?" Nikki asked him as she reloaded.

"Fighting withdrawal might be in order," he nodded, "I think we've met the test subjects."

"Right," Nikki nodded and fired a few more times, "got any other bright ideas?"

"Yes," Bolantine nodded, "give me a few seconds."

Outside Mason and Karen were watching for movement. They knew that Bolantine and Nikki were still there and neither one had even come close to being fatally shot. Karen looked at Mason and shrugged her shoulders. She did not even know how to reload her rifle.

"I'm open to suggestions," Karen said.

"I'm going in," Mason said, "cover me!"

"Wait!" Karen said, but it was too late, Mason was on the move.

Mason ran inside and fired a line at Nikki, managing to get four shots that would normally be fatal, but it this case just knocked her backwards on the floor and destroyed the firing mechanism in her rifle. Bolantine came out at that point and threw a hastily made Molotov cocktail at Mason, who did not have the time to dodge it and took it full in the face.

"Motherfucker!" Mason yelled and fired off the rest of his clip before dropping his weapon and running towards Bolantine.

The fire couldn't affect Mason's skin, but it was affecting his hair and clothing. He looked like a stunt dummy that was completely on fire as he launched himself at Bolantine, who pushed him off with the rifle.

"Nikki!" Bolantine yelled as Mason stumbled back.

"Grab the container!" Nikki growled, "Let's go!"

Bolantine nodded and grabbed it, running out the back. Nikki let off a kick at Mason's knee, sending the burning man down to the floor. She was still in pain, but she followed Bolantine out the back door.

Karen fired the rest of her clip at them, but did not have the control on the weapon to even come close. She went in and found Mason wiping the burned hair out of his eyes and growling. He was sore but regenerating just fine. Karen helped him clear his eyes and made sure he was all right.

"Fuck," Mason said, "didn't see that coming."

"Can you see?" Karen asked him.

"As well as ever," Mason nodded, "let's go."

Adam Strader had heard the failed firefight and had begun moving around towards the back of the building. He saw Bolantine and Nikki jogging towards the mine and followed them, knowing that shooting would not do much good. Round one had gone to Bolantine. It was time for round two.

## Chapter 103: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

Elliot Sumner ran for his life in the snow behind the building. He did not know who was pursuing him, but he figured that it was definitely someone he wanted to get away from. He also wanted to get away from Bolantine and Nikki, knowing now that they were completely insane.

Jim Entragian knew he had to catch up with Elliot, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he was no longer the man who created that serum in the first place. He had lived with the knowledge for only a few days, but for him it was a lifetime. He needed to know why.

Elliot was in reality two years younger than Jim, but this difference was negated by the fact that Jim now had the body of a twenty-year-old man. Elliot had not run a quarter mile before he started wheezing. Jim was hardly even breaking a sweat as he began to catch up with him.

"Elliot!" Jim yelled, figuring that he might recognize the voice.

Elliot certainly recognized the voice. It was enough to make him look behind him just long enough to trip on a snow-covered branch and go flying head over heels into the snow. Jim caught up with him quickly and aimed the rifle at him.

"James!" Elliot exclaimed as he looked up, "I thought she killed you!"

Jim looked at the man who had once been his friend and tried to remember anything at all about him. A few raw facts came up, but nothing of the warm memories that a friend should have. Elliot Sumner was little more than a stranger to him at this point.

"Depends on how you define dead," Jim said, still aiming the rifle, "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to complete our dream!" Elliot said, "We were going to change the world, Jim! No more jocks making fun of us. We are going to control it all. Surely you remember all of that!"

"I don't remember a thing," Jim said, studying Elliot, "My life began five days ago in a van parked in Ohio."

"My god," Elliot said, "that bitch fucked your head up, didn't she? We can make it all better, James. We just have to..."

"We don't have to do anything," Jim said coldly, "I just need to know something, Elliot."

"What?" Elliot said.

"Why," Jim said simply, "I need to know what the hell possessed us to make it."

"FTU-237?" Elliot said, "It was your idea!"

"Stop saying that," Jim said, not liking hearing that, "Why did we do it?"

"Because we could," Elliot said, "because we were going to live forever."

"There is no forever, Elliot," Jim said sadly, "nothing will ever be the same."

"I can make it again," Elliot said, "There's a base already made, we just need to complete the Paladnium process and it will..."

"I don't want to know," Jim said, "I don't need to know how it's made."

"But it kept you alive!" Elliot exclaimed, "It works beyond our wildest dreams. It brought Bolantine and Nikki back from the grave and it let you re-grow a head. This is the best discovery of all time! We will be gods!"

"I can't let you do that," Jim said softly, biting his lip a bit, "This has gone too far. You're the last person who knows how to make it."

"You and me," Elliot confirmed, "we're it."

"I don't know how to make it," Jim said, his eyes boring straight into Elliot, "I don't want to know, either. FTU-237 is something that is like the atomic bomb, something that would have been better off not being made."

"You can't mean that!" Elliot exclaimed, "Eternal life, eternal power! How can anyone walk away from that! We own the serum, we can rule it all!"

"I may have thought that important once," Jim said, shaking his head, "I've learned something over the past five days. There are more important things than wealth, life or power."

"Like what?" Elliot asked him.

"Doing what's right," Jim said as his finger started to tighten on the trigger, "something I don't think you'll ever know in this life. I hope you learn it in the next one."

"No!" Elliot shouted, "You won't! You can't! It can't end like this...."

Elliot's eyes went wide as his lifelong friendship with James Entragian ended with the pull of a trigger. Jim's M16 rifle rode up, stitching a jagged line up Elliot Sumner's body. The final part of the burst held on Elliot Sumner's head, sending his gray matter flying back into the cold Seattle snow.

"Sorry, Elliot," Jim said, "it's better this way."

Jim dropped the rifle in the snow and collapsed onto the ground, sobbing hard about his life and what he had been forced to do to a man who had once been his friend. The one thing that was certain at this point, however, was that no one would be able to make the serum again. The secret was now spread out over the snow.

## Chapter 104: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

Bolantine and Nikki found the front entrance to the mine complex and were not particularly surprised to find it chained shut. Bolantine was in no mood to pussyfoot around at this point, however, and used the rest of the clip in his rifle to destroy the lock enough so a good kick would let them inside.

"Let's find the paladnium and get out of here," Bolantine said, "We're not equipped to fight a full scale war with people that have the same abilities we do."

"You're right about that," Nikki agreed, "let's get the formula completed and slide off into the night."

"I just wish Elliot had told us how to complete it," Bolantine growled, "do you think the little rodent got away?"

"I doubt it," Nikki said lighting an old lantern, "so we need to get this rolling soon."

"Right," Bolantine nodded, "let's find the map, there has to be one in here somewhere."

Nikki nodded and found the old mine office, an office that was half falling apart with a door that did not look like it had been opened since McKinley was president. Bolantine let off a full out kick on the door, splintering it.

"Christ," Nikki said, "this predates us even. Did they even know what Paladnium was back then?"

"You want to quit now?" Bolantine asked her.

"We're too close," Nikki said, "let's go for it. I'm always up for adventure."

"I'll look in here," Bolantine said, "you go see if you can find anything down the way a bit."

Nikki nodded and took the light. Bolantine found another lantern and got it started as well. He laid his rifle down and started going through the ancient paperwork. It was almost all handwritten and it did indeed date back to the first years of the 20th century.

"Where's the Paladnium?" Bolantine growled and then heard a click behind him, "Did you find anything..."

"I found what I'm looking for," Adam Strader said, aiming the M16 rifle at Bolantine's head.

"I know that voice," Bolantine said, "but not really."

"You did kill my father," Adam said as he looked at the man, "didn't you?"

"That bullshit colonel back at the warehouse," Bolantine chuckled and turned around, "so that's why you're here."

"Goodbye Bolantine," Adam said coldly, "rot in hell."

"You first!" Bolantine exclaimed and then dropped to the floor just before Adam pulled the trigger.

Bolantine rolled for his rifle, but Adam's next shot blew the firing mechanism to bits. He tried to get a good shot into Bolantine's head, but missed and merely pierced his shoulder. It slowed Bolantine down momentarily, but not enough to stop him from throwing his full body weight at Adam.

Adam's finger went back on the trigger, sending a half dozen shots out into the mine before he lost his grip on the rifle, letting it clatter down to the rock on the ground. Bolantine was not resting with that, he started trying to pound on the younger army officer.

Adam was not his father, however. He was almost as young as Bolantine's body felt, so he was a much fairer match. Adam used his backwards momentum to throw Bolantine backwards, slamming his smaller body against the solid rock wall of the side. Bolantine groaned and got up, shaking off the damage.

"You really think you have a chance?" Bolantine asked him as he stood up and wiped a lip, "You're nothing! You're fucking pocket lint!"

"And you're a throwback," Adam said, looking up, "Your kind should have died out with Al Capone."

"My kind will never die," Bolantine said, "in the battle between civilization and the barbarians, the barbarians always win in the end."

With that he rushed Adam again, letting off a flurry of punches, most of which Adam easily deflected. Adam started letting in with a series of martial arts blows that did a good job of annoying Bolantine but did not do all that much damage on him. The first thing that did do some damage was a forward kick that shattered Bolantine's nose.

"Fuck!" Bolantine yelled as the blood fouled his eyes.

"You're not my type!" Adam said as he went behind and tried to break Bolantine's neck.

"But he's mine," Nikki said and brained him with the remains of Bolantine's rifle.

Adam crumpled down, groaning. Bolantine growled and started to breath a little again, getting up and kicking the fallen man. Adam's head was dizzy and he saw the end coming in the form of Bolantine's foot being placed on his neck.

"Did you find the Paladnium?" Bolantine asked Nikki as he got ready to stomp Adam.

"Yeah," Nikki nodded, "back of the shaft, farthest down."

"Take the stuff down there," Bolantine instructed as he kept pressure, "I'm going to finish this fucker off and I'll be there."

"On it," Nikki said and grabbed the canister before darting back down the shaft.

"So I have another Strader," Bolantine said, "would you like to say any last words?"

"Fuck you," Adam grunted under the pressure of Bolantine's foot.

"Your father was more eloquent," Bolantine said, "but you're going to be just as dead."

Bolantine raised his foot to stomp the light out of Adam's life when Mason came in and let off a powerful drop kick to the side of Bolantine's head, knocking him away from the younger man. Bolantine hit the wall again and looked up to see Mason's now hairless face staring at him.

"Why don't you pick on someone with the same advantages you have," Mason told Bolantine, "or are you too much of a coward for a fair fight?"

"Test subject, I assume," Bolantine said, looking at Mason, "You really are a resourceful son of a bitch."

"Let's see who the real thing is," Mason smiled, "Karen, find Nikki. Make sure she doesn't complete the serum."

"I will win," Bolantine told him and then went towards Karen.

"You have to get through me first," Mason said and blocked his path with a bone crunching blow to the face, "you may have been king shit in Seattle for fifty years. Let's see you do in a fair fight with someone who is just as good as you."

Bolantine bared his teeth and looked up at Mason, pushing off on his back legs and slamming into Mason's torso. Mason took the brunt of the hit and then brought his elbow down on Bolantine's back. He also jammed his knee into Bolantine's ribs. Bolantine screamed in pain and fought back, slamming Mason in the ribs with a few body blows.

Mason jerked back a little and let off a few jabs at Bolantine. Bolantine never learned the art of organized fighting, so he kept up the pace and just went for any opening he could. It was a technique that had served him well as a youth against men who were as untrained as he was. Mason was not such a man.

"Come on!" Mason said, "Is that all you've got?"

"I'm just getting warmed up!" Bolantine yelled and restarted his attack.

Bolantine went for a head shot, but feinted down and let off a few good body blows. Mason let off a forward punch to the face that broke Bolantine's nose again, causing Bolantine to stagger back before leaning in to a full weight kick to Mason's balls, sending the larger man reeling in pain.

"I told you I'd fucking win," Bolantine said as he pushed Mason backwards, sending his body flying into a spike that had once been used to hang lanterns. Mason's eyes opened wide as the spike went straight through his body.

"Arrgh!" Mason yelled.

Bolantine left Mason there and started running down into the bowels of the mine, looking for Nikki. Mason watched him go and growled as he felt his flesh heal up around the spike going through his torso.

"Did you get the name of the truck that hit me?" Adam said as he sat up.

"Same one that got me," Mason groaned, "Get me off this fucking thing."

Adam saw Mason's predicament and got up to help him off the spike. Mason's body had healed all around it so it was hard to get him off. Adam looked at Mason and shook his head.

"It's going to hurt like a bitch," Adam told him.

"Do it," Mason growled, "I can't do a damn thing on this spike. Pull!"

Adam nodded and put his foot against the wall, using his leg to give him leverage as he grabbed Mason's shoulders and pulled him off the spike. Mason screamed in pain and collapsed on the ground once the spike was no longer holding him up. He coughed a few times and then touched the spot where the spike had been, finding it completely healed.

"What now?" Adam asked Mason.

"Find Jim and Elliot," Mason said, standing up and taking stock of himself, "I'm sure there's something explosive in there. Get it down here. It ends tonight."

"Right," Adam nodded, "Don't stick around. Get Karen and contain Bolantine."

"Don't dawdle," Mason told him as he started jogging into the dark, "I intend to be out of here before daylight."

"And don't forget about Nikki!" Adam yelled, "She's his equalizer!"

Mason waved his hand as he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving Adam alone in the flickering light of the lantern that Bolantine had left in the office. He sighed and jogged out the door.

## Chapter 105: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

"Jim!" Adam yelled as he went north, "Where the hell are you?"

"Up here," Jim yelled, "Adam?"

"Yeah!" Adam shouted and climbed the path, "Where's Elliot?"

"He's here too," Jim told him as he approached.

Adam walked up and looked at Elliot's body lying in the snow and then looked at Jim. Jim still had tears on his eyes as he looked at his former friend lying there in the snow.

"You ok, Jim?" Adam asked him.

"I know who I am now," Jim told him, "I'm not the same man who made the serum."

"I know it," Adam nodded, "so do they."

"Bolantine and Nikki?" Jim asked, looking at them.

"Mason and Karen are with them in the mine," Adam said, "Mason wants me to come up with something to blow the place."

"You need me for that," Jim told him, "what do we do about Elliot?"

"Let's drag him down to the mine," Adam suggested, "I think Mason intends to bring the place down on Bolantine and Nikki's heads. Let Elliot be lost in the rubble."

"You take one side and I'll take the other," Adam said, looking at the body, "Feet should slide easy in this snow."

It took them a few minutes to get the body down to the building, where they threw him into a cart. Adam and Jim walked into the building and found the chemical room where Elliot had made the serum base.

"Looks like Elliot made something," Jim said, "Probably part of the formula."

"Is it too late?" Adam asked him.

"Not if Mason and Karen can stop them," Jim said, "there's no paladnium here. It's probably still in the mine."

"That explains why they lugged a canister down there," Adam nodded, "do you see anything here you can make an explosive from?"

"Explosives aren't the problem," Jim said, "The triggering mechanism is a bitch. Everything here is chemical. A simple timer isn't going to do it."

"Can you do it?" Adam asked him.

Jim didn't answer immediately. He went over to two jugs of a brightly colored liquid. He lifted the lids and sniffed them, smiling when he figured out what they were. He looked at Adam and nodded.

"Binary explosive," Jim said, "completely stable until mixed. These two bottles will have the explosive force of a ton of TNT when mixed, however."

"How do we trigger it?" Adam asked him.

"This," Jim said, holding up a third bottle, "The first two are an explosive. This stuff will cause it to ignite, but only once it reaches saturation. The process is called titration. We'll mix these two in the wheelbarrow when we get into the mine and hang the bottle over it. Poke a hole and we've got a crude timer. Once the saturation gets to the right point it sets off the whole thing and that mine will completely collapse, making a pretty damn permanent grave for Bolantine and Nikki."

"That works," Adam nodded, "let's get it down there."

"Way ahead of you!" Jim said, lugging the jug, "Let's get this over with."

## Chapter 106: Marden Mines Research Center, North of Seattle, WA

When Bolantine got down to the lower reaches of the mine he had no real trouble finding Nikki. All he had to do was follow the sounds of confrontation. Karen had found Nikki while he was still fighting with Mason.

There were no words being traded between the two women, merely claws and flailing. Neither one had sustained any real damage, as the contusions healed almost as quickly as they were made. The one piece of light was the lantern that Nikki had brought down with her and it was hanging off an old spike on the rotting supports.

Bolantine barely noticed it, but the sounds of Karen and Nikki fighting were enough to start the old supports shaking. The wood that formed the supports had long since been weakened by years of water filtering through the ground. He watched Karen and Nikki for a few minutes before deciding to go in and take control of the situation.

Bolantine walked up behind Karen and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and took a hit in the stomach from Nikki. Bolantine grabbed Karen by the hair and threw her backwards into a pile of rocks. Nikki, still pissed off to the extreme, went over and started beating on Karen while she was in a prone position. Karen took a few good head blows that knocked her out, at which time Bolantine stopped her.

"Cool it, Nikki," Bolantine told her, "she's like us. You could do that until the end of the year and it wouldn't do any good. Let's see if we can make the shit and get out of here before the other one gets himself off the hook, literally."

Nikki looked at Bolantine for a moment and nodded. She let off another good kick at Karen's nose for good measure, breaking it again and then went over to drag the canister over.

"Where's the Paladnium?" Bolantine asked her.

"Behind you," Nikki told him, "it's that pile of rock there. Doesn't look like much, does it B?"

"Just so long as it does the job," Bolantine said tiredly, "We've got a lot of work to do and I'm sick of getting shot at."

"So do we just mix it in?" Nikki wondered, "Elliot didn't tell me anything about it."

"Put it in," Bolantine shrugged, "open the container."

Karen managed to keep herself quiet as she woke up again. She still hurt all over, but she was mobile again. Bolantine and Nikki were busy looking for small bits of Paladnium to put into the mix Elliot had created, so they did not notice when she reached into her pocket for a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

"There seems to be a reaction," Nikki told Bolantine, "Get some more!"

"Keep an eye on it," Bolantine said, "if it looks like it's going to blow, I'd like to be able to get out of the way."

"Right," Nikki nodded and kept her eyes trained on the bubbling mix.

Karen sat up, careful to keep it quiet. Luckily her motion was covered by the sound of Bolantine rustling through the rocks looking for more Paladnium bits. She put a cigarette in her mouth and quickly lit it, taking a quick drag because she needed it.

"What's that smell, B?" Nikki asked.

Bolantine looked up just in time to see Karen toss the cigarette into the bubbling container, setting it ablaze. Nikki screamed as the flames rushed up and lit her pre-serum hair and clothing on fire. She didn't have the knowledge that Karen did that her flesh was immune to fire, so she panicked.

"Hot enough for you, Nikki?" Karen quipped and kicked Nikki.

Nikki was born before stop, drop and roll became well known by children so she ran around, encouraging the flames to grow higher. She could not see a thing due to the burning black hair that was wrapped around her head, so she ran by Bolantine.

"Nikki no!" Bolantine yelled, but it was too late.

Nikki ran past him into the darker area of the cave. She could not see the ledge until she ran over it, falling down into the ore shaft ten yards ahead. She screamed for nearly three seconds until a loud thud silenced the scream and the light from the flames.

Bolantine went over to the edge and looked for Nikki, but it was too dark in the shaft for him to see where she had landed. When he realized that Nikki was probably gone something in him snapped. He ran back towards Karen's location only to find her standing up and looking at the remains of the serum with Mason, who had just arrived.

"Looks like your plans just went up in smoke, Bolantine," Mason said, smiling, "You can't win now."

"Maybe not," Bolantine said, looking Mason in the eyes, "But you still want to know who the better man is."

"I know who the better man is," Mason said evenly, "I just want to kick your ass."

"You're welcome to try," Bolantine told him, "I've got nothing to lose now."

"Find Adam," Mason instructed Karen, "get the explosives ready."

"Mason," Karen said, "We can take him..."

"Go find Adam!" Mason exclaimed, "I'm going to take him down."

"Shit," Karen said and started running.

"She won't close it with you in here," Bolantine said, "loyal little bitch you have there."

"Not unlike that little pitbull of yours," Mason told him, "I wonder how she'll adjust to being a grease spot at the bottom of that shaft."

"Better than you will!" Bolantine exclaimed and charged Mason.

Mason was prepared for the move and met Bolantine with a high-powered uppercut that knocked the shorter man backward. Bolantine spit out a couple teeth and rushed again, this time landing a few more hard knocks on Mason before taking another punishing set of body blows.

The sounds of the hand to hand battle carried up the mineshaft to where Adam and Jim were dragging the wheelbarrow down. Karen met them about halfway down the shaft and expressed a gasp when she saw what they had in the wheelbarrow.

"You got him?" Karen asked Jim.

"Someone had to," Jim said, "I'd prefer not to talk about it right now."

"Where are the others?" Adam asked her.

"Nikki took a burning leap down a mineshaft," Karen said with a smile, "Mason and Bolantine are fighting still. He sent me to find out if you had the explosives."

"These are they," Jim said, "should be more than enough to bring this whole complex to the ground."

"Good," Karen nodded, "Adam, get out of here. You've got a wife and a kid to go back to. Jim and I will deal with the explosives."

"Bolantine killed my father!" Adam exclaimed, "I want to help!"

"You have helped," Karen said, "now let us finish it. The serum has been destroyed. We'll stop Bolantine. You get out and make damn sure that if this place comes down on our heads no one ever digs us up. Ever."

"Right," Adam nodded, "Just see that you come out too."

Karen nodded and motioned to Jim, who kept pushing the wheelbarrow. They rushed back to find Mason and Bolantine still beating the tar out of each other. Karen wanted so much to help Mason, but there was little either she or Jim could do. Mason was holding his own better than either one could have imagined.

"You enjoying the beating, Bolantine?" Mason asked him.

"I'll enjoy it more when I use your guts to strangle that bitch of yours, Test Subject!" Bolantine yelled, launching another assault.

Mason was tiring of the fight and wanted to end it. He'd slowly been working Bolantine towards the edge using flips and dancing around. Bolantine was so angry at Nikki's defeat that he was not even thinking straight anymore. He had adrenalin reserves that rivaled someone who was completely hyped up on PCP.

"How do these work?" Karen asked Jim as the fight continued.

"Mix these two," Jim told her, "Hang this one from the ceiling and poke a hole. When it reaches the saturation point, it goes boom."

"Mix it," Karen said, "I'm going to go see if I can help him any."

"I don't know how long the timer will be," Jim told her.

"Just get it ready," Karen told him, "Now!"

Jim nodded and started mixing the binary chemicals. Karen watched and looked for anyway she could help. As Jim set up the hanging bottle for the trigger, she picked up a rock and threw it at Bolantine to try to distract him. It bounced off his shoulder and fell down the shaft that was now a scant five feet away from the fighting men.

Mason changed tactics and stopped trying to beat on Bolantine's body, which was quite capable of withstanding the blow. He started kicking at the former crime boss's knees, which were not capable of healing quite as fast. One kick knocked Bolantine's balance a bit.

Bolantine scrambled over to the wall and pulled hard, removing a half rotted piece of wood to start swinging at Mason. Mason dodged as best he could, but the piece of wood made a good club and it caused a few nasty gashes when it hit, gashes that still healed almost immediately, but were wide enough to allow a bit of blood to spill on the floor.

"You think you're good?" Bolantine spat through broken teeth, "I'm fucking god!"

"Check with him on that," Mason growled, "because you're about to meet him."

Unfortunately, nobody seemed to realize that the piece of wood that Bolantine had taken for a weapon was one of the few helping the ancient roof support to keep standing up. A large rumble began and large pieces of rock began to fall from the roof of the shaft.

"It's over," Mason said, "you're going to rot in here for eternity!"

"You're coming with me!" Bolantine yelled and rushed Mason, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him face to face, "Let's go over the edge together!"

"No!!" Karen yelled and rushed for the two of them as Jim finished the explosives and ran to help.

Mason tried to fight the hold, but a falling piece of rock picked that moment to fall down on his head, making him lose his balance. Bolantine pulled the staggering man towards the edge of the shaft Nikki had gone down. Bolantine had truly lost his mind by this point and was bound and determined to make sure that if he was going down to bring Mason with him.

Mason fought the pull, but did not have the footing to get any leverage. It was not until Karen grabbed the back of his shirt that he began to get anywhere at all. Bolantine was near the edge when another rumble sent more rock coming down and the piece of ledge he was standing on went out from under him.

Bolantine was not ready to face oblivion alone, so he grabbed onto Mason's leg, pulling him down with him. It was only Karen and Jim's effort that managed to keep both Mason and Bolantine from falling all the way down the shaft. Mason was halfway over the edge while Bolantine was dangling, hanging on to Mason's leg with one arm and still holding the club with the other.

"Let him go you nasty old cadaver!" Karen yelled, "Go join your little bitch in hell!"

Jim did not say anything, but took one of Mason's arms and kept pulling. He had only two friends in the world, he wasn't about to let one of them fall down and be buried for eternity. If he was going to be immortal, he was not about to do it alone.

"Ready for posterity, Test Subject?" Bolantine grunted as he whacked Mason's torso with the club.

"Kiss my posterior, Bolantine!" Mason yelled as he let off a kick to Bolantine's nose, shoving it into his head.

Bolantine yelled and threw the piece of wood at Mason and company as he fell backwards into the same abyss that Nikki had fallen down, scant minutes earlier. The old crook screamed like a baby all the way down, until the impact silenced him, just as it had Nikki.

Jim and Karen pulled Mason back up from the ledge and the three of them backed up. Mason was shaken, but he was healing quickly. The falling rocks were now a bigger problem than anything else was. They moved back out from the falling support and took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

"My god," Jim said, "is it over?"

"Not until we collapse this place," Mason said, "Let's just hope its deep enough to keep them bottled up."

"What's that smell, Jim?" Karen asked him, "It smells like something burning."

Jim looked up at the explosives and saw something he didn't particularly want to see. The bottle that held the titration agent had been cracked by the piece of wood that Bolantine had thrown as he was falling. It was rapidly leaking into the wheelbarrow of explosives.

"Shit!" Jim yelled, "It's nearing the saturation point!"

"Pull the jug," Mason said wearily, "Let me rest for a..."

"You don't get it," Jim said, standing up, "The reaction has started. We're running out of time."

"Fuck," Mason growled, getting up, "Let's go!"

Karen didn't need any encouragement, she got up with Mason and the three of them began running for the entrance. It was a race against time for the three of them. The chemical dropping into the wheelbarrow did exactly what Jim intended it to do, it was causing a caustic reaction with the other chemicals. Before long the wheelbarrow was on fire.

Mason, Karen and Jim ran as fast as they could for the front entrance. They were less than 100 feet away when the chemical reaction became an explosion. The powerful blast shook apart all the supports in a 100-yard radius, causing a near immediate collapse of the old mine tunnel. The flames carried farther than this, however, setting most of the remaining supports on fire as well as several flammable materials that were being stored in the old mine.

The fire stream continued with a ferocious push through the old mineshaft, coming up behind Mason, Karen and Jim and propelling them towards the entrance, much like bullet being fired out of a pistol. The three of them went flying out of the entrance past Adam Strader, who was standing over 100 feet away waiting for results.

Adam hit the dirt as he watched the flames spit out of the mine and heard the supports fail, one after the other. He kept his face down until he heard the rumbling stop and then finally looked up to see that the entrance of the mine was now a part of the mountain again.

"Jesus," Adam said, standing up and walking over to it, "What the hell happened down there?"

Mason was the first one to get up and stagger back over to the entrance. His clothes were now a total loss and a tattered set of underpants was the only thing keeping his dick from flapping about in the wind. Adam looked at Mason in wonder, still not believing he had survived it.

"Holy shit," Adam said, "are you ok?"

"Define ok?" Mason asked him and sat down, "Did you see where Karen and Jim landed?"

"Did they make it out?" Adam asked him.

"I made it," Karen said as she hobbled up, "I think I left an arm in there somewhere though."

"Jim!" Adam yelled, "Where are you?"

"Could someone kindly get me down from here?" Jim yelled, "This is so not comfortable!"

Mason, Karen and Adam looked up and saw that Jim was impaled on a branch some ten feet off the ground. Mason just shook his head and chuckled. Karen smiled and went over to the tree to take a closer look. Mason and Adam went over as well, looking at the curious sight.

"I guess we should get him down," Adam said, "might be hard to explain if anyone else shows up."

"Right," Mason nodded and jumped up, grabbing Jim's arm.

"Mase!" Jim yelled, "What are you doing?"

Mason pulled Jim's arm hard, finally causing the branch he was impaled on to break. Of course, when the branch broke they both went tumbling to the ground. Mason sat up and smiled at Jim, who was now on the ground looking at the stick that still went through his torso.

"Getting you down," Mason said, "now we need to get that damn thing out of you."

"Easy enough," Karen said and grabbed hold of it, "hold on tight."

"No, Karen!" Jim yelled and then screamed when Karen pulled the stick through his body.

Karen dropped the bloody stick on the ground and watched as Jim's body healed as if he'd never been hurt. The only thing on either Mason, Karen or Jim that indicated injuries of any sort was singed hair and burned clothes.

"So what do we do now?" Adam asked them, "Do you have any plans from here?"

"Were there any survivors in the building?" Mason asked him.

"They're all dead," Jim told him, "Bolantine killed them all."

"You know," Karen said, "other than our fingerprints in the building there's not much to tie us to this. Our weapons were all in the mine. Elliot's body was probably decimated by the explosion. Bolantine and Nikki are sitting under a hundred thousand tons of rock. Why do we have to explain this to anyone?"

"Just walk away and let them infer what they want to?" Adam said.

"I like the sound of it," Mason said, nodding, "We need to torch the main building first though."

"They'll look for the culprits for a few years or maybe assume they were in the rubble," Karen said, "they're not going to move that much rock just to find the bodies of some terrorists."

"I'm wondering what to tell the military," Adam sighed, "They're bound to ask me what I know."

"Tell them the truth," Mason said, "Bolantine and Elliot disappeared and you haven't any more clue on how to make the serum than you did before."

"But what about this?" Adam said and then realized, "I was never here. I was out somewhere having a drink to my father's memory and don't remember where I was."

"Tomorrow you go pay respects to your father," Mason said, "and get him the burial he deserves."

"What about you and Gabriel?" Adam asked him, "How are you going to cover it with Holbein's people?"

"Chris is going to call me back east," Mason shrugged, "No sign of Sumner, no reason for me to be here. We'll disappear into the woodwork."

"Sounds like a plan," Karen said, "Jim?"

"Just so long as we get somewhere warmer where people are no longer shooting at us," Jim said with a smile, "I think I've had enough excitement to last a while."

"At least until the next pissed off husband catches up with you," Mason told him.

"Let's get this over with," Adam sighed, "I want to get out of here before someone realizes this place is off the grid."

It took the four of them only about twenty minutes to get a fire started in the main building. Once the flames were going strong the four of them piled into the van and pulled off down the road heading back towards Seattle, knowing that FTU-237 would not curse another human being again.

## Chapter 107: Beachfront Motor Park, Miami, FL

"The slaughter up at Marden Mines research center last week is still under investigation," a reporter said on the television, "the military liaison attached to the project has said little except for the fact that 9 bodies were found along with evidence of a rather intense firefight. No news has been released about the possible perpetrators or if it's a terrorist incident."

Mason clicked off the television and sat back on his bed in the van. The bullshit that had been cobbled together hastily on the drive back to Seattle by Adam Strader and themselves seemed to be holding up well. Nobody had even tipped to the fact that anything untoward happened in the mine, writing off the collapse as natural and not unexpected.

Karen had opened up the van all the way to let the stale air out and to get some sunshine in there. Mason pulled out the laptop and dialed in to the national internet service provider that he had set up an account with four days before as they were passing through Louisiana. He had sent exactly two emails from it, both of which had been answered quickly as there were two new mails in the box.

"We got messages from both Adam and Chris," Mason told Karen as she threw out several days of accumulated trash, "it seems that everything is shaking out nicely."

"They still have Elliot listed as missing?" Karen asked him.

"According to Gabriel they are about to close the case on you," Mason told her, "officially blame it on Jim, who is officially dead. Elliot is another missing fool in a sea of idiocy. They'll declare him dead eventually, not that it matters a damn."

"Sounds about right," Karen smiled as she slipped in next to him, "so what does Adam have to say?"

"He's short winded and cryptic, just like his father," Mason chuckled, "he said that his father was buried in Arlington a few days ago and that he's been reassigned to a classified base in Nevada. Evidently he came through all right. Either that or they used it as a place to keep him out of the way."

"Nevada eh?" Karen said, "He'll love it. Dry, crusty and weird. He should be used to all three by now."

"So it's over," Mason smiled, looking out onto the warm beach, "and I'm on the first vacation I've taken in nearly twenty years."

"We can do it right too," Karen told him, "I can't believe Kosmo came through and passed on the money. Fifteen million bucks is a lot of dough."

"That reminds me," Mason said as he reached into a drawer, "I need to send him this. I don't think we'll need it anymore."

Mason held up a disk that carried the evidence that he had used for leverage on Kosmo. He dropped it in an envelope and scrawled Kosmo's New York address on it. He figured he could put it in the mail later.

"Think you and I can afford a romantic dinner tonight?" Karen asked him, "A high dollar steak, a bottle of wine, maybe a walk on the beach..."

"Sounds nice to me," Mason nodded, "I think Jim can take care of himself tonight."

"It looks like he's taking care of himself now," Karen told him, "look out there."

Mason leaned forward and took a look outside to see Jim running from a rotund Cuban woman who was speaking rapid fire Spanish and chasing him with a broom. He ran down the sidewalk past the van and finally what he said became audible.

"I didn't know she was your daughter!" Jim exclaimed as he dodge the broom and kept running, "Mason!"

Mason and Karen could not help but laugh as they watched Jim run down the sidewalk. This was one battle they figured he was more than capable of dealing with on his own. It was something worth watching however. It is not every day you see a deserving lecher beaten down with a broom.

## Chapter 108: Remains of Marden Mine, North of Seattle, WA

Bolantine woke up in the dark, unsure if his sight was gone or if there was a complete and total absence of light. He remembered falling and seeing Mason's face as he went down, but he could not tell if it was a few minutes or a lifetime ago. His fingers moved across the stone bottom of the shaft and looked for an exit or something to make light with.

"B?" Nikki's voice came out of the darkness, "Is that you?"

"Where are you, Nikki?" Bolantine asked her, "Are you hurt?"

"I feel cold and hungry," Nikki said, "can you see anything?"

"Nothing," Bolantine told her, "follow my voice."

It took them a few minutes of scrambling, but they eventually found each other, holding each other tightly and trying to figure out what to do next. There was no light, little air and no food.

"They blew the mine," Bolantine said, "we're trapped."

"What do we do, B?" Nikki asked him.

"We wait," he said, "eventually someone will let us out of here. That's when our time will begin."

"Just don't leave me," Nikki said, laying her head against Bolantine, "Never leave me."

"Never again," Bolantine swore in the darkness, "Never again..."

***The End***

##

## Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Durell's Insurrection

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

