Neon Quicksilver

by Echo Hagerman

Fandom: The Invisible Man

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Invisible Man; they belong to the SciFi channel and whoever created the characters and story. The characters of Harmony and Ciara Mackenzie belong to their author and the work in progress: The Incomplete Chronicles of a Time Traveler

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Neon Quicksilver

by Echo Hagerman

(Darien Fawkes narrating)

'They say there is one in every crowd. Who says this? What does it mean? Is there a reason why it has a place in our misguided, devolved society's handbook of Mysterious Phrases And How to Use Them? I guess it makes as much sense as me taking a job with our wonderful government. After all, who knew that the choice would be so simple? Either play ball or go slavering mad and kill somebody---which I might do even if I don't lose my mind. Hobbes had been eating my nerves for weeks now. Don't get me wrong---he's not so bad as partners go----What the hell am I saying? Sometimes, he makes me crazy without even trying. He's probably going to be the reason why I’ll cheerfully murder someone, anyone, without having to reach quicksilver madness levels. I hope though, when I finally do melt down, he's the one who is standing the closest to me. He has a way of getting me back under control. Anyway, I never believed for a moment, when I took this job, that I'd find out all kinds of government secrets that I never wanted to know because I didn't know they existed. I mean, who knew? If you found out that the government really did have all kinds of dirty secrets, you'd never stop to wonder why they were secrets---you'd just be pissed because---you'd never been told about it. See, I'm starting to discover what may have created a man like Hobbes. They take a rookie who loves his country, put him under the line of fire for every day of his career, and then when he snaps, they feed him lithium. And they never ask why he snapped. You know why. I know why. They didn't tell him what he was getting into. They didn't tell me, either, and I'm not surprised. If I'd known what I was up against, I'd have told them where they could put the newest assignment. Hell, I was tempted to tell them where they could put the job, too. I mean, if they'd told me I would have to help hunt down and kill an experimental Catevari or that I would have to become some little girl's invisible friend named Ralph, I'd have told them real fast where they could put all of it. Where the monkey put his nut, right? And that's why when I was called in to assist in a search and possible destroy for an ex-government agent who had resurfaced after a few years of being missing in action....or just plain missing, I told them no way at first.

But, it didn't work, of course. It never works. I always end up staking out someone with Hobbes, who can be as about as stimulating as a test pattern when we have nothing to do but stare at our hands. I had no idea what I was in for this time, though, cause it was definitely not the normal week around here.'

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"Eberts." The Official's eyes never left Darien's face as he said the one word. His assistant, the bland-faced all-vanilla Eberts, drew the blinds on the windows once more. Darien Fawkes knew then that he didn't want to hear this.

"Gentlemen, I'd appreciate it if you'd take a look at this." No, there was no appreciation to it---it was a badly disguised order.

The man's suit was rumpled and he looked like he'd been sleeping on the sofa in the hallway, if his tired face was any indication. Darien suspected that he probably had taken up residence in the office---this was a fly by night operation at best.

The Official passed Hobbes an eight by ten glossy photo. Darien leaned over in his seat to sneak a peek. The paranoid pill-head agent turned the picture away from his partner so that Darien couldn't see. The look of bored disgust he favored on a day to day basis turned to one of grudging admiration.

Noticing his partner's reaction, Darien grew more than curious and took the photo from Hobbes, snatching it from his fingers like a piece of hot metal. Except if it had been hot metal, he'd have just let Hobbes keep it.

"That is Harmony Corwin, a.k.a. Neon Blue. She is rumored to be among the best in her field. I want you to find her and take her into custody. If necessary, you will 'do' her."

Darien's eyebrows raised at the turn of slang that The Official used.

"Do her." He said it and looked up from the photo, not believing what he'd just heard, his surprise muffled by amusement. "Why not be honest about your feelings?"

"Do her, Fawkes. You know, kill her." Hobbes rolled his eyes, snorted, and reached to take the picture away again. Darien held it up out of his partner's reach and looked at the man who'd forced him to take a job he didn't want.

"You want me to kill her?" He shook his head. "No way. Not even if she deserves being bumped off. Get yourself an assassin. I don't kill unless I have to---I'd rather not."

Hobbes was reaching for the black and white, sitting in his chair, straining to put just one finger on the picture of a woman who certainly didn't look dangerous enough to be on a hit list. Darien tilted it and looked up to see the face again. No, there was no way this woman had done anything to put herself on a wanted dead or alive poster by the Agency.

"Harmony Corwin is tied to a series of deaths concerning agents in FBI, CIA, and the Agency."

"This woman is being hunted for murdering agents?" Darien touched the photograph where it still hung above his head, tracing the line of the woman's jaw with his fingers. "No way. Uh-uh. You're gonna have to find yourself another boy wonder to play with on this one, guys. I don't hunt down people just because they're linked to some deaths and I certainly don't kill them."

"You're a unpatriotic shmuck, Fawkes, you know that?" Hobbes jumped in his seat, looking ridiculous as he managed to get the photo away from Darien, who acted as if nothing had been going on.

"Yeh, well, at least I'm not the one drooling on the pretty picture, Hobbes." He rolled his head sideways on his shoulder to glance at the uptight agent.

Hobbes stared at the unusually young woman whose face bore a little smile, like she was almost afraid of the camera. She barely looked old enough to be out of school, much less contributing to a ring of agent-killers.

"What is her expertise?" Darien eyed his partner's eager perusal of the eight by ten with a measure of disgust. "Bombs, poison, oh---let me guess....sniper?"

"Not everyone has to do the deed to be responsible for it." The Official's voice was dry, as if he had cottonmouth. "She is a computer expert who has managed to crack a few security codes of the Agency and get the lists of our agents, as well as some FBI and CIA boys. In this way, she's either committing the murders or she is helping whoever is behind them. It is your job to find her and track her connections to whatever factor is involved."

"Wait, wait...you're telling me that this girl is passing information along to a third party who are carrying out the plan? That she's only the information end of it? Why do you want her dead, then? Couldn't she just be put away for a while? I thought you big government types had places where people like this one were sent---Club Fed, man." Darien shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other. A glance at Hobbes beside him told him everything he wanted to know.

The blindly patriotic asshole was going to go through with it, even if he knew nothing about the case---like usual.

"The big job here is to find out who she's working with. They are the big fish. Harmony Corwin is a small fry compared to what we know about one of her possible contacts; most likely, the real leader of the operation."

Ebert's voice was annoying. Darien wanted, momentarily, to take him by the throat to see if he could make the pudding-faced lackey's expression change.

"Contacts, huh? So you want us to stake her out and find out who she's working with and then, if necessary, kill her over it?" He looked away, towards the pulled blinds that covered the windows. "You'll excuse me if I refuse."

"Don't be dense, Fawkes." Hobbes laid the picture on the big desk in front of them. "If she's helping someone take out agents and blow up safehouses, then she's probably not going to come quietly. Sometimes, for your country, you have to do these things. Even when they look like that."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His partner was justifying the death of a woman who was probably innocent. It just wasn't his thing, though.

"You don't have anything important for me to do, like take out the trash or mop the bathroom this week? I noticed we're understaffed again---what happened, the maid die or just decide that there are better ways to make a living?" He swung his face back to meet The Official's gaze.

"No, we couldn't afford to pay her and you both. Take the photo and the file. Inside, there is her physical address and the last known identities of her compatriots as well as their dossiers. Pay attention, tiger. At this point, anyone could be involved." The man's large face rippled silently into a pseudo-smile.

"Yeh, you might learn something about proper procedure." Hobbes chimed in. Darien looked at him and grinned as savagely as he could muster at the implied insult. It had the desired effect. His partner, strung-out on his meds, paled visibly and looked away. Turning slowly, he dropped the smile and narrowed his eyes. He had gotten no real answers, as he was beginning to notice was normal here, too.

"And why am I being put out there to stake out Little Miss Harmony Corwin when she's supposedly in the business of getting agents killed?" He sat forward and the leather of his jacket creaked against the naugahide of the cheap piece of office crap he sat on. "Couldn't you just send someone else?"

"When you look at the file, you'll see why." It was like opening fortune cookies.

"What if I don't want to look at the file?" Darien cupped one hand in the palm of the other and leaned over them. "What if I want to know now why I'm being put out there or I don't do it at all?"

"When you open the file, look for a woman named Mackenzie. There is a picture of her. C. E. Mackenzie. Memorize the face because that's who you're really looking for, kid. She's the reason you're being put on the case. We believe that you might be able to sneak in where others can't on this one." The Official used his fingers to drum on the desk, right on the thick file folder that he'd drawn the picture from.

"Okay, I'll bite. Why am I supposed to be able to go where no other agent can?" Darien watched the fingers until they stopped rapping on the manila folder. Then, he looked up at the fat man who held all the cards.

"She used to be an agent for an elite branch of the CIA, as well as having worked for several branches of our government, including this one, always sticking close to the bottom rungs, and always on unusual cases. She disappeared, literally, into thin air ten years ago, after putting in many good years on the payroll of Uncle Sam."

"Wait---one of the suspects used to be an agent for us?" Hobbes' incredulous tone was ignored as Darien met his boss' eyes and stared as hard as he could, trying to believe what he was hearing---it wasn't happening.

"Disappeared---you mean, like went invisible?" Darien fought to keep the smile from his face. "You're telling me that we've got a an ex-agent killing off other agents and she can go invisible? This is invisible we're talking about here, right? Invisible invisible."

"Something like that." The Official's smile was enigmatic. "Now, get out there and watch our girl Harmony Corwin and find out everything we can about who calls her, who comes to visit at any time of the day, and who she's been giving the hacked classified information to. Pay attention for Agent Mackenzie."

Hobbes rose from his chair first, leaving an indention of his back and bottom on the seat. Darien stood up and headed out the door, on his partner's heels. At the last moment, Hobbes turned and moved backwards, propelling himself into his partner.

"Get the file, rookie." It was all Robert Hobbes had to say as he did another half-turn and went out the door, casting an evil glance back at The Official.

"Do we really need it? Can't you just magically see the information through osmosis?" Darien moved across the office and retrieved the folder from under The Official's hand and watchful, watery eye.

"You're so smart, getting a classification above mine---maybe you can psychically guess all of it." The snide words floated through the office door, coming from his partner who'd already made his get-away.

"Have fun, son." The Official smiled again. "And watch your back---remember that we need you alive."

"Oh, yeh." Darien put the folder in his jacket, next to his shirt. "Trouble rides into town and they send Lithium Bob and his Amazing Sidekick, Invisible Man. It's always a barrel."

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Chapter Two:

(Darien Fawkes narrating)

'Okay, so I had started out thinking this was all a joke on me; the job and the quicksilver and the paranoid partner from hell. Now, I was sure it was a joke, but I wasn't sure whom it was for and I sure wasn't laughing. The folder I'd picked up contained several smaller pictures of people who looked like they'd survived Woodstock with only a few brain cells still doing what ever it was that brain cells do. They each had a section in that folder, listing names, alias, addresses, and what subversive activity they'd been up to from the time they'd crawled out of whatever drug-induced haze they'd been living in. Some of it seemed difficult to believe; these brain-dead people had been blowing up safehouses and helping to kill agents? Right...I was ready to bet the farm that there was a hell of alot more going on. Most of them---no, all but one of them---had pretty detailed files of nothing but anti-government behavior ranging from being suspected of bombing small federal buildings to staging protests for one thing or another. They'd all been seen in the company of Harmony Corwin recently, or more properly, they'd been seen in her bookstore. Hobbes had, of course, names for them all, such as Commie, Hippy, and Dipshit. I decided, looking at Harmony's picture, that she was out of her league in this freak's gallery---she didn't fit the MO, for one thing. And the other woman--- well, I had her picture, but the file was empty on her activities. This made me, the eternal disbeliever, suspicious immediately....'

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He'd given Hobbes the address of the bookstore where Harmony Corwin would probably be found. She was listed, in the pages, as being the owner of the place. Darien read outloud the information the file had on the stake-out subject and tried to not get too sick to his stomach as his partner, non-driver that he was, took the roads by force.

As he took another curve, twisting the wheel, the off-tan colored van moved like a saltine box on wheels. Darien Fawkes closed his eyes momentarily as a wave of vertigo hit him and hoped that they weren't pulled over; he wasn't so sure that the Agency would spring them from the slammer. It was better to not see the roads at all right now. Hobbes was shouting, some obscene threat, at a driver who'd cut him off, amazingly.

"So, we got a woman who's the front for a bunch of commie pinkos who get their rocks off by blowing shit up and killing agents." Hobbes, finished with his screaming, spoke and took another turn, making Darien sure that the van was going to flip over and skid down the street on it's side, probably taking out half a block and definitely ruining the retro-styled brown lettering on the side of the van that half-assed disguised them as Acme's Plumbers..

"Slow down. I'm sure that there's no reason why we have to be there this exact minute."

He pressed his palm to the folder he'd flung up on the dashboard as it went sliding sideways, towards Hobbes' side again. It stopped its movement. "You know--I think they've got the wrong idea here. Judging from her picture, Harmony Corwin couldn't be a mom yet much less be the head of a dangerous bunch of philosophical criminals."

"It's always the gorgeous girl with the big blue eyes. They're dangerous on their own, but then give them a brain and they want to take up hobbies like trying to overthrow the good ol' U.S. of A." Hobbes shook his head, squinted his dark eyes hard and concentrated on the road. "Where did you say it was?"

"Well, if you'd slow down, I might get some idea of what street we're on. The bookstore is on Clubhouse Road. I think that's it ahead, Hobbes." Darien took the picture out of the folder and looked at it again. "I think you have a hangup about pretty women, Lithium Bob. What's the matter, a girl like this ditch you playing hopscotch?"

"Don't call me that." It came through Hobbes teeth and his eyes had narrowed even farther, making him look like a rabid weasel. Without missing a beat, he changed the topic. "I think this is it."

He pulled the van into the gravel lot and shut it off. Across the street was a quaint, old-fashioned building with large windows and fronted by wooden boxes full of flowers in bloom. They were beautiful---it was a nice shop but surely couldn't be competing with places like Walden's for profit.

Darien looked at the shop with it's Old English lettering painted on the window and then looked at his partner, sure again for the millionth time that Hobbes must have been dropped on his head by his mom----a lot.

"Are you stupid or what----we're here to spy and you park across the street from the damned front door. Anyone can see us." He laid his forehead in his hand and moaned. "Why me? Was I so bad in my last life that this couldn't be avoided?"

"Stop talking bullshit and pay attention. Anyone walking through that door could be in her contact book. Any one of them could be the ones we're looking for."

Darien raised his head and looked at Hobbes, trying to ignore the sharp soreness in his head that was now like a knife, right between his eyes. "Tell me that you're not the product of our government. Tell me that they don't really teach you these things."

"Hey, pal, I got my education like any one else worth their salt as an agent. I worked hard and fought hard and I paid my damned dues. Some punk kid like you comes along and your opinion isn't worth shit here, Fawkes. All you got is that gland and it's killing you. You've got no credentials or real experience doing this. Shut up and learn."

Darien suppressed the overwhelming urge to get out and find the nearest bus stop, to get away from the gung-ho good-soldier attitude that Hobbes spouted at every opportunity.

"Calm down, man. You're gonna blow a fuse or something. Okay?" He laid the picture against the gearshift and studied it. "I still say there's more than what they're telling us."

"Of course there's more to it and we're doing what we were told to do. It's our job." Hobbes rolled down the window and the breeze that came in ruffled the edge of his cheap polo shirt's collar. The air stirred the picture and it floated to the floorboard to settle at Darien Fawkes’ foot.

He picked it up and looked at his partner. "I still say this chick couldn't be dangerous enough to need killing. See, there's too much information on her. If she was really doing all that hacking or killing people, she'd be covering her trail."

"Smart, Fawkes. Right---who said she has to be all that brilliant?" Hobbes was watching the door of the storefront like a hawk. His eyes never moved as he studied each person going in and out.

"Well, there's someone else in that folder who has nothing but a picture and a name." Darien slid the eight by ten black and white glossy back into the manila file and drew out the odd picture that had a name written on it's back in red ink that someone's thumb had smeared across. C. E. Mackenzie.

"See---this is the agent that the big guy was telling us about." He offered the picture to Hobbes who ignored it. Darien sighed and looked again at the face in black and white and decided that this woman could probably kill her own mother, if necessary. It was just an instinct---she wasn't dangerous-looking in an obvious way---but there was something about her eyes and that Mona Lisa smile that screamed SERIAL KILLER at him.

She made him think of Anthony Perkins in Psycho with that expression. It was a face with character.

He couldn't tell for sure from the black and white, but her hair, pulled back away from her face, looked curly and light in color. Her eyes were either blue or grey and she had freckles and an odd couple of scars that said she'd been around trouble alot. Her eyes had an amused look in them, as if she was laughing inside at some ironic thought.

He turned it over in his fingers and studied the way the name was printed. There was something else that he'd not seen before. A small set of numbers in the upper right hand corner of the picture, stamped in blue ink, looking like a serial number of sorts. They were faded, which meant it was an old picture, which matched the type of paper it was printed on. Something about the numbers rang a bell in Darien Fawkes' mind, but he couldn't put his finger on what bothered him about them.

"Couldn't they find something more recent on this woman Mackenzie?" He showed the picture to Hobbes. "This thing's as old as I am. She's got to have changed since this was taken."

"What does the file say about her?" Robert Hobbes didn't look at the picture or at Darien. He was watching a couple of kids who were going into the bookstore.

Darien glanced at them and then at the sign again. 'The Neon Silence' was in those Old English letters, black, and under it was 'Harmony Corwin, Proprietor' in bright blue print, about half the size of the letters above. If the place's name was any indication, then Little Miss Harmony Corwin could be connected to, or even conceivably be, Neon Blue.

He knew that it was his job, like it or not, but there was something more going on here, below the surface---why would the Agency want a young woman pinned with this one, perhaps even killed? What could it really be about?

"Nothing. Look, I already told you that. She's got to be the one we're looking for. Why would the Agency send us to watch a business owned by a college dropout like Harmony Corwin unless they are absolutely sure she's connected to this woman Mackenzie---I mean, conclusive proof?"

He picked out the picture of the bookstore owner from the folder and pointed to it, trying to get Hobbes to pay attention, laying the black and white of Agent Mackenzie on his knee. "Okay, Harmony Corwin is being accused of hacking computer files and maybe selling them to subversives...but does that mean she is actually responsible for what those people do with the knowledge? Does that really merit a possible bullet in the brain?"

Darien held the two women's pictures together and compared them. "They look the same age here. But, she---" He tapped the older picture with his finger. "Has got to be twice that age now. We're looking for an older woman, Hobbes."

"Figured that out on your own, did you?" Hobbes' voice didn't rise above a mutter. "Look at that, Fawkes. Have you ever seen such a gorgeous motorcycle in all your life?"

Darien looked up from the pictures at the Harley that had pulled up in front of the shop. The rider turned the engine off.

In the van, he leaned forward and watched as the tall, slender form swung off the antique motorcycle and looked around. Through the reflective shield on the helmet, he couldn't see any part of the face, but judging by the figure---it was female and attractive.

She was wearing black leather, form-fitting, and covering her entire body. There was no skin showing anywhere. In the heat, he didn't believe that a sensible person would wear all black leather like that----from gloves down to her biker's boots. Even her tight leather shirt had a high collar, coming to her jaw line. The sun glinted off of the bright zipper that ran from throat downward to crotch.

As he watched, the rider removed her shiny black helmet and then his jaw dropped.

"Hobbes..."

"Shut up, Fawkes. I'm trying to watch her." Hobbes' eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "That's amazing. Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"Yeh---" Darien held the black and white photo of the woman he'd been talking about up to the dashboard, to look from it to the rider of the chrome-decked black Harley. "And I'm not buying it."

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Chapter Three:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

'To say that I was surprised would have been the understatement of the decade. I mean, right up there with the strangest science fiction---as if I can't claim a spot they’re myself. Hobbes and I had been given this file with the AWOL agent's picture but with nothing written on her, except for her name on the back of the picture and it only had initials and a last name. There was a gallery of small-time creeps and subversives and kooks, but the mystery of Harmony Corwin and Agent C.E. Mackenzie had just gone into overdrive in my mind. I thought it was strange at first---here I held a photo that looked at least twenty-five or thirty years old, at the minimum, and I knew that the Agency was low on funding, but how was an old picture of some drop-dead gorgeous female agent supposed to help us find her? She'd be different, right? She had to be grey now and getting slow---right? There was the matter of what looked to be a serial number on the back---could it be an agent's badge number? And, then, out of nowhere and coming as fast as a train derailing, I knew part of why we were really looking for Agent C.E. Mackenzie and it may or may not have had anything to do with some young woman with a shy smile whose file named her as Harmony Corwin. We weren't staking out this bookstore for nothing---this woman was the reason we were here. Beating Domino's pizza delivery record, she'd shown up in broad daylight, in what seemed to be no time at all after we'd started our job of watching. I was expecting someone who matched the picture, only older, right? Boy, was I wrong. When I'm wrong, I'm so very wrong. She looked exactly like the picture, which was impossible, right? Right? Sherlock Holmes said that when you have exhausted all the logical possibilities, then the remaining possibility, no matter how illogical or improbable, had to be the truth. On the other hand, maybe it was Mr. Spock.....'

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"Hobbes, look at the picture---now." He thrust the photo under his partner's nose and then raised his own eyes to watch the most unusual thing to happen to him since he'd woken up with the gland wet-wired into his head. What was going on?

Somebody had to have made a mistake somehow----but two and two added up to four, and if it were true, then he was looking at a beautiful, dangerous woman who was really well-preserved for her age. Really well-preserved.

Hobbes looked down briefly and then up at the woman again, and then down at the picture once more, his eyes getting larger. "It is the same woman."

"I know. It's got to be. But how?" Darien Fawkes' brain took in the sight of the woman who was looking up the street, in the direction she'd just come from. He looked down at the picture; the woman in it was wearing what looked like a business suit jacket from the late fifties, maybe the early sixties. Her hair, in the picture, was pulled up in a French-styled chiffon, which had still not managed to contain the little wisps of hair that curled around her forehead and at her ears. The disturbing look on her face and the hair-line scars that showed against her freckles; he'd bet anything now that if he walked up to her and saw her face close, that the scars would be there, the freckles would be there.

"Maybe the picture is one of them, what do you call them---novelty shots done to look like they are older than they really are." Hobbes' logic broke in on his thoughts. He looked back at the woman across the pot-holed street who was now going into The Neon Silence, having discerned that she'd not been followed by any obvious means.

"I don't think the Agency does that, pal. It has a serial number on the back of some kind. It's an official thing."

"It's her, alright. Did you see that? Why don't we get women like that to work with?" Hobbes was still watching, squinting at the glass-fronted shop.

"Cause they go AWOL? Hell, I don't know. How many years was it, ten?" Darien searched his recent memory and found the reference. "Yeh, ten years she's been gone from the scene. I tell you what, if that woman disappeared ten years ago on a case, then she must have been the youngest agent ever."

Hobbes turned and gave a slim smile at the joke. "Okay, now she's been spotted. The real surveillance starts." He picked up a clipboard from under the seat and checked his watch. He wrote some notes and the time and then the clipboard disappeared again.

"Well, with her in there and us out here, it's not going to be much of a stake-out. We don't even know what's going on in there or why she showed up after, not a week of sitting here, but only an hour. Less than an hour. Aren't you the least bit curious about that, Hobbes?" Darien slid both of the pictures back into the folder and laid it on the dashboard.

"Not really. If I was supposed to know, I'd have been told." His partner cocked his head to the left and looked at Darien with another condescending smile. "Now, we watch. It's the job. It's not the most exciting job, but it's the job."

Without losing the smile, Hobbes turned towards the bookstore with the motorcycle sitting in front of it, in a no parking zone. Darien sighed and laid his head back, against the seat.

Through slitted eyes, he pondered how they could find out what their stake-out subject could possibly have to do with an AWOL agent who had not aged since her portfolio shot had been done----there was more to it than hacking government computer systems for information.

From the angle the van sat, there was no clear shot of the interior. The sun glared on the plate glass windows.

Determined to get closer, to see what was inside the bookstore, he took a deep breath and let the coolness of the quicksilver engulf him from the inside out. He could feel the shiver slide through his pores like ice-water.

Completely invisible, he gripped the door handle and opened it just enough to slip through.

"Don't do that, Fawkes. Stay in the van!" It was an order from Hobbes. Darien leaned into the window on the passenger side.

"I'm gonna go check it out up close. Stay here."

"This isn't procedure, dammit!" Hobbes was getting angry now. "You don't show yourself like that!"

"I'm not showing myself, am I?" He stepped away from the van and went across the street.

He stopped beside the old Harley. Taking a deep breath, he felt the quicksilver in his lungs; it's cold fire vibrated with the exhale. Darien ran a single finger over the chrome of the handlebar and got an idea.

Kneeling, he touched the bottom of his right shoe. Yeh, it was still there. He'd not seen much use in it---had even thought about removing the chip, leaving it in some strange place, like the restroom at work, but now he was glad that he'd not done a thing about the homing chip.

Detaching it with his invisible hand, he carefully attached it to the back of the black leather seat. It would do more good here. They could track her when she left, without having to follow her, which would be hard to do since she was supposed to be an agent. She'd suspect that she was followed, wouldn't she? They all seemed to become paranoid after a while.

With a homing chip on her motorcycle, they could simply track her without having to stay on her tail. It was more effective, for sure. Darien smiled to himself. If it had worked with him, then it would work for her, who was surely more than a pretty face if she'd been doing the dirty work lately that the boss said she was.

He stood back up and stepped onto the sidewalk. Going to the door, he looked inside and saw tables and bookshelves. It made him think of a small-town public library. It was not a big shop, but every wall and every shelf held books of all sizes and colors. The shop was heaven to look into. He loved books; they opened doors that could be entered without having to be broken down first.

Darien Fawkes observed a little boy sitting at the table to the left of the door. He was holding a book that he wasn't reading. Instead, he was looking up at the van across the street, it seemed. Invisible as he was, he knew the boy couldn't be seeing him, but he hoped Hobbes kept doing what he was supposed to be doing---sitting and watching the shop.

To the right of the door, he saw the front counter, which sat nearest the window. He moved to stand at the glass there, looking at the contents on the bottom of the counter. It had a low shelf blocking it's view from the street, but from where he stood, he could see everything. The cash register, the shelves underneath with rows of orderly boxes and books and binders.

Darien watched as two kids, teenagers, came to the counter, and stood there, talking. He couldn't quite make out what was being said. It was a boy and a girl who wore her hair in long braids. He quieted his breathing as he strained to hear through the glass. He didn't dare put his ear to the window; the frost from his quicksilver would be easily seen.

The girl, dressed in shorts and a tank top, said something about the binder. He watched as the clean-cut boy bent and retrieved a large, red three-ring binder from under the counter.

What was going on? He continued to stand still and observe as the girl stated a page number and he watched as the boy laid the binder on the front counter and flipped through the pages.

He couldn't make out what was on the page except that there were three columns on each page. Darien saw the girl use a finger to run down a column of something and then nod at the boy, speaking words he couldn't make out.

They put the binder away and he noted the place. The two teenagers left the counter and went to the back of the shop, through a door. Nowhere in the shop could he spot the woman he'd seen coming in. He couldn't spot the shop owner, either.

He looked at the door in the back and decided he had to know more. But how? He couldn't get in---the door was closed. He might have been able to slip through a few inches crack in the door of the van. His side had been away from the street.

Here, though? No way. Everyone would probably see the door opening and if they had a bell, he was screwed.

Darien Fawkes sighed and thought about going back to the van. He couldn't do anymore but stand here, frustratedly staring into the store. If he stayed invisible much longer---he might rip the door off the hinges, thanks to a good dose of the raging Id. His luck turned. The teenagers came down the interior of the shop and out the door. They had emerged from the back room. As they swung the door open, he heard the girl speak to the little boy who still sat at the table, with his big book.

"Have a good day, Remy."

Out the door they came. Darien sprang out of their way and then moved fast. He had only a few seconds to get through that open door.

He made it. He had heard the bell as they'd opened the door; he had to stay in here until someone left again or find another way out. For a moment, he wondered if it was the quicksilver in his brain that was making him insane enough to try this, but he had to get closer to the truth here. He didn't want to walk away empty-handed.

The door hadn't closed the whole way. It hung open, just a few centimeters, caught on the edge of the rug that laid on the floor. If he had to, though, he would try to get through it---if he had to leave quickly.

There was music playing from some radio behind the counter he'd been looking at before. A song, currently popular, played, and he was thankful for the noise it made, covering any possible sounds he might make.

Looking around, he spotted the young boy Remy. The small child was looking straight at him. No, he corrected himself, straight through him. The boy's eyes had a far-seeking gaze and Darien Fawkes felt the eerie feeling that he had been spotted, despite the fact that the boy couldn't possibly see him.

"Hello, mister."

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Chapter Four:

Darien's heart leaped into his throat and his blood roared through his veins, carrying panic. The boy could see him!

He stayed silent and still, standing on the rug. What could he do? He looked down at his hands. He was still invisible. What was going on?

Another person, older by a few years than Remy, came around a large bookshelf. This one was a teenager and Darien watched as the older boy searched the empty store.

"Who're you talking to, Remy?"

Darien continued to stand still and tried to quiet his heart. If he got excited, he could lose the invisibility; he could reach quicksilver madness very fast.

His instinct told him to get out of there---The older boy couldn't see him, but the little boy named Remy was still staring at the place where he'd been standing for the last minute.

The child was blind but he'd felt Darien, invisible, as he had entered the store. This wasn't good. He cursed at himself in his brain for pulling this stupid stunt. If he couldn't get out in time---?

He saw the tall woman in leather enter the shop's front. She came from the back, through the door he'd watched the teenagers come from.

She moved down the shop now, toward him. He took a deep breath and held it. Her golden hair was loose, laying in waves on her shoulders, against the black leather she wore. As she got close, he noticed that the curly hair had red shot through it, noticeable only in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

The missing agent Mackenzie stopped by Remy's side and touched the boy on the head, running her hands through his short, crisp curls.

Darien was standing so close to her that he could smell the leather and the light scent of perfume. He could touch her if he dared, this woman who didn't look even as old as he was, much less old enough to be the same person in the Agency photograph.

But she was the same woman. He could see the scars and the freckles. The curved, quarter moon white scar on her cheek, close to her ear, was the dead give-away. It had caught his attention in the picture. He stared at it now, feeling his panic drain away, leaving only curiosity.

"Remy's seeing ghosts again." The older boy behind the wooden shelf spoke now without reappearing.

Ex-Agent Mackenzie looked around, missing Darien with her pale eyes, and then smiled. "That's okay. Remy, you go on seeing your ghosts and I'll hear my ghosts and we'll get along just fine."

As his gut clenched in worry that she'd reach out and find his cold form standing so close, he watched her walk away, back to the door in the far wall again. He had to hurry and get out of here as fast as he could.

Not only was he risking an attack from his Id, but he was being watched by a blind boy and the agent he'd been sent to wait for had just walked right by him. She felt as dangerous as she seemed in her picture. There was an air coming off of her that reminded him of the panthers in the zoo. Behind their cages, they couldn't hurt you, but if they ever got out---

He looked around and found the high front counter. Darien slowly let his breath out and began making his way towards it. If he could see, up close, the page that the teenagers had gone to, then he'd have more information than he'd come in here with. It would make this insane idea of his worthwhile if he could get a look at it; see what they'd been searching for.

Behind the counter, out of the sight of everyone in the bookstore, he crouched and found the binder on the shelf. Lifting it, he laid it across his knees. He flipped it open silently and began looking through it quickly. Darien found the page and studied it. It was three columns of numbers. He had no idea what they meant.

He searched in his invisible pockets and found the tiny digital camera he'd been carrying. Finding it, he shook it free of its quicksilver coating and went to work. He snapped a shot of the page and then of the pages after it. He took picture after picture, thankful that the camera made no sound.

When he was sure he had taken as many pictures as he could, he stashed the camera away, invisible once more, and closed the red binder. He might not know what the numbers meant, but maybe the digital shots he'd taken would mean something to the Agency.

Putting the binder back in it's place, he crept back out from behind the counter and began to make his way along the far wall, as far as he could get from the blind child.

Darien noticed that the boy's eyes followed him. It creeped him out, knowing that this boy Remy could 'see' him. He hadn't known that he wasn't completely invisible, but then how was he supposed to know that his see through body still sent off some kind of signal that could be felt?

Reaching the door, he slipped through it and found himself in a broad hallway that ended in a flight of stairs. To the right, against the wall of the hall, was a desk.

Carefully, he headed towards the stairs. From up above, he could hear sounds; people talking. At least two women were up there, talking loud enough to be heard by him as he tried to be as silent as he could.

Before he got there, the desk beside him caught his attention. On the desk sat a computer and several binders like the one he'd gone through at the front counter. He wanted to leaf through these, to see if they were any different than the one he'd shot digitally, but a sudden sound from above, in the rooms over the shop, made him jerk his hand back from the thick, blue binder he'd started to open.

The computer was speaking, quiet and low, beside the binders. He watched as a screensaver flipped pictures of nature, one by one, and spoke in a man's voice. Darien leaned closer to the speakers and listened. It was a foreign language course, running on and on, unheard by anyone but him. He identified the language as Japanese with some difficulty.

The pictures were full-sized shots of some beautiful places in different phases of season. He let his hand hover over the mouse and wondered what could be behind the screensaver. Did he dare find out?

Just then, someone headed down the stairs. Darien's hand jerked as he moved backwards, away from the computer. He looked around, feeling his heart beating hard again. There was suddenly not enough air in this hallway; he could feel his head starting to ache with a ringing pain, like he'd just gone two rounds with a welterweight who was faster than him and who had a penchant for pounding the ears.

If he didn't get out of here, he was going to lose the grasp he had on the quicksilver gland.

His hand, in moving away fast from the mouse, had actually moved it briefly. The screensaver was gone and now the screen showed a map. Fighting his urge to run, he looked at the map and then backed away, to stand in the corner of the hall, close to the door. The person coming down the stairs had reached the bottom and he could now see the missing agent as she stepped off the last step.

The wooden step creaked loudly. He breathed as quietly as he could, sighing in relief. If he'd gone up the stairs to look, he might have stepped on the creaking board and alerted everyone to his position. He might have lost his edge and the chance to escape.

Ex-Agent Mackenzie was drawing her gloves back on. The black leather was tight, as form-fitting as the rest of her strange outfit. She moved down the hallway that was serving as an office and stopped right beside him.

Darien held his breath, ready to burst.

She turned and looked at the computer, which was no longer showing a screensaver. She moved towards it and then went to the door that led to the shop's front. She glanced around, seeking something or someone.

He hoped he wouldn't have to stay any longer---he could feel the pounding in his head that was the start of the madness. Darien Fawkes knew he had only a few minutes to get out of this hallway and out of the store. He was going insane.

He breathed slowly in and held his breath again as she stepped close to him once more. Remembering the exercises he'd learned that would hold the monster in his head at bay for awhile, he studied her again as she looked at the screen of the computer.

He didn't know what he was going to do. The moment looked hopeless.

"Harmony?" Her voice was deeper than other women's. It had a richness to it that made him think of Greta Garbo or Marlene Dietrich or maybe Grace Kelly. It was an attractive voice.

Holding his position was starting to wear him down fast. It was going badly, he knew, but what could he do? If he tried to leave, this woman might find him and then he'd have blown the cover and the operation would be over.

And as much as he'd not really wanted to do any of this, he was fascinated by the mystery that had been given to him to solve.

Another voice, floating down the stairs, caught his attention and he turned his head to the doorway.

"What, Ciara?" It was just as pleasant as her picture. Harmony Corwin sounded like an educated woman with a momentary head cold.

"I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay, I'll see you later. We can go over the details then."

Listening to the two women talk back and forth loudly, Darien fought the feedback in his skull that was starting to rip him up inside. His psyche was twisting and it was becoming hard to think.

The AWOL agent had a first name. Ciara. Ciara E. Mackenzie.

He blinked away the hot, sandy sensation of his mind being melted like glue. Watching, he saw Ciara Mackenzie as she looked around, right over him again, and then left the make-shift office.

He followed. Trying to stay close without treading on her feet, Darien Fawkes walked behind this strong, dangerous woman and hoped she was leaving.

She didn't let him down. Reaching the door, she opened it and the bell above rang loudly. As she went out the door, she spoke to the little boy, Remy, telling him that she'd see him later.

Darien slipped out the door and started across the street. He had to get to Hobbes before she left, so he wouldn't follow her. He had to keep it together until he got to the van.

He saw Ciara Mackenzie get on her motorcycle and leave, turning the loudly purring machine in the street. She passed so close that he felt the burning wind coming off the exhaust.

In that moment, as he stumbled and nearly lost his feet, he would have sworn that she saw him. She'd not put her helmet back on. Her hair flowed and rippled away from her face with the breeze created by the Harley's movements.

He hit the gravels with his knees and fought to get to his feet. He was still invisible but that was going to change in a second. Working his way to the van, he bit his lower lip hard to keep from crying out from the sudden shriek of pain in his mind. It was all over; he was gonna need the counteragent. He had to get back to his Keeper---now.

Darien hit the side of the van, at his door, and tried to fumble it open. It was still cracked from where he'd made his escape earlier. He couldn't get his fingers around the handle.

Hobbes had heard the sound of Darien smacking the door. He saw as the smaller man, his partner, as he jumped out and came around to the passenger side. He only had a second before he'd completely quit fighting the madness.

He shook himself free of the quicksilver coating on his body and shivered as the much-warmer hand of Robert Hobbes touched him.

"Fawkes? Not now, dammit! Come on, get in the van!" Hobbes was lifting him, opening the door and shoving him towards it.

Darien fought the rising Id to look at his partner. He saw the expression on the older agent's face change. He grinned weakly, knowing it was his eyes. His eyes had gone red. Everything was bleary now.

"Don't follow her." He got it out, biting down on his cold lip, trying to stay grounded. "Homing chip..."

"Aw, man, get in the van. I gotta get you back to headquarters." Hobbes managed to force him into the seat and shut the door.

He gripped himself around his ribs and tried to push the madness away. It was running amok in his blood, tinging his brain with random, painful impulses. No emotion, he thought. Think nothing. No anger, no pain. No pain.

He squeezed his eyes shut and worked on the mantra, fighting for control. Deeply breathing, he managed to quell the rising panic and insanity. Darien felt the darkness coming, threatening to push him into unconsciousness.

"Hold on, partner." Hobbes had turned the van on and was starting to pull out of the gravel-covered empty lot. "Just hold onto it."

Darien looked up, at the windows that were set in the second story of the bookstore. They were lace-covered. He would have sworn, as the van changed gears, that he'd seen one of those curtains move and a face, familiar from a picture in the file, peered down at them.

"That was a stupid thing to do, Fawkes. Real stupid." Hobbes was upset, but the concern was there, too, for what Darien was going through.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, working on keeping the monster at arm's length. He was starting to feel the spasms that accompanied the quicksilver madness.

And then, he slipped into darkness, mercifully glad that he'd managed to get out of the shop before reaching the absolute limit of his ability to hold himself together. It had been more than he should have done, but he'd gotten a few pictures from a binder that contained information that had to be useful.

He'd seen the map and he'd recognized it. Darien only hoped it was good enough to be worth the hell he was going through now.

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Chapter Five:

There was music playing close by. It sounded distorted, as if from under water. His psyche turned over and Darien wondered abstractly if he'd put the radio alarm clock in the toilet or the fish tank while he slept.

Then, he felt the cold after-sting of saline rush through his red-hot veins. The madness was chased. It fled back into its box and shut the lid after itself. Clear, crisp thoughts pushed at him. He had gotten close. Real close. What was it he was carrying that was so important?

Opening his eyes slowly, he squinted against the white clinical glare of the lamp that was aimed on his face. Darien watched, still tingling with the sterile counteragent that ran through his body, as his Keeper moved from his side, to place the syringe on the shiny metal tray that sat close by. She was turned to show only her profile and the last wispy thought he tried to grasp at was that she was beautiful in the same dangerous way as----

Then he remembered what he'd been doing. Fighting to sit, he found that his wrists and torso were strapped to the table. That meant he'd been struggling when he'd come in.

"I'm so glad I woke up in time." Darien's mouth was dry, but he couldn't resist a smile. "What do you have planned for me?"

"You acted foolishly out there, Darien." Cool and business-like her voice was, but her accent slid heavily across his name. "You risked too much."

"I had to find out more than just what time it was when our suspect showed up and left again." He yanked his wrists against the straps and realized that the radio he thought was in his head, under the water, was actually playing softly in the next room. He looked up and met his Keeper's gaze. "Can you let me up now? I'm not going to rip anyone's head off."

"Can't you sit still and breathe a few moments, mate?" Her smile was honest and Darien pulled against the straps again.

"I have to get this camera to the boss. They have to know what I found out."

She unbuckled the straps then and let him rise. He hopped down from the chair he'd been tied to and reached for the jacket that had been taken off of him while preparing him for his shot of the counteragent that kept his brain from short-circuiting and carrying his body with it.

"You need to remember to say you're sorry, I think, to your partner. He's carrying a bruise on his face from trying to subdue you by himself and bring you back here." She was leaning against the chair with her arms crossed. The white jacket she wore covered most of her body, but it didn't matter. It was her face that Darien now sought, confused.

"What? I don't remember hitting Hobbes."

"I expect you don't. He had to coerce you into the building. Think about what you might have shown in broad daylight, Darien." She wasn't smiling anymore.

Darien was tired but he had things to do. The knowledge that Hobbes had tried to bring him in alone moved the paranoid pain in the ass up several levels of respect in his mind.

"Yeh, I know. The darker side of my self." He had moved, to the door, and now stood ready for flight, to take the camera to the office on the next to the top floor.

"What do I do if I can be 'felt' by blind people while I'm invisible?" It was a quick question. Darien was ready now, to be debriefed and given the next piece of the puzzle to work on.

"Had that happen, did you? Well, mate, cease to exist. If you take your mind down to zero in that moment, they might not feel you there. There's no guarantee it'll work, but it will keep you from panicking."

"Gee, thanks. I'll remember that." It came out half-sarcastic.

"Why don't you work at being invisible without using the gland?"

Her words made him turn and cock his head at her, not catching her drift. Darien had no idea what it meant; there was only one way to be invisible for him, wasn't there?

"If you want to camouflage yourself in a crowd, you don't need to go invisible, Darien. You can slide into place against any wall and never have to risk the aftereffects of using your gland."

He nodded, thinking about it, and headed for the stairs.

He wasn't getting gung-ho about this, but they needed to know what he had now. They needed to know that he had to have more from them before he'd even think about risking that bookstore again; that is if they didn't take him off the case.

@@@

(Narrated by Darien Fawkes)

I had never wanted to know something so badly before in my life. As I took the stairs two by two, my head swam with questions I knew I'd get no direct answers to. But, if I played my hand the right way, they might tell me everything I needed.

Suddenly, I was caught in a great mystery and I tried to ignore the whispered warning in my head. Gung-ho. I was liking this job, this assignment. I tried to not think about that and instead thought about the mystery that had shown itself to be more than just a page turner. It was a page-burner.

As you can imagine, my first question of the moment was centered on what the hell our ex-Agent Mackenzie was, that she'd not aged. That was a doozie and kinda hard to miss. I really wanted to know it, but I suspected it was classified, of course.

In my pocket, I was carrying a camera that held digital shots of information that was as alien to me as the sense of excitement over the assignment. Those pages had contained nothing but numbers, but then there was another mysterious number, a possible serial number, on the back of the missing agent's picture. I believed, in my usual way, that they were linked somehow.

I don't know why these things come to me, but I hang onto them, for future reference. I'd memorized that faded blue number on the back of the picture. It was burned into my brain, nearly as firmly as the quicksilver gland that was slowly driving me insane.

I had to know what the status of this assignment was; the bookstore, The Neon Silence, was obviously headquarters for whatever was going on, but if I was allowed to go back, was I going to get in and get out without pushing myself over the edge? I knew I could find out so much. The key to what was going down was there.

Right now, though, I suspected that I was going to be up on the carpet for taking the risk I'd thought nothing of at the moment I'd gone invisible. I didn't even know if I had a future at this moment. What would happen to me if they threw me out on my ass?

Nah. They wouldn't do that. They couldn't do that; they needed me like I needed them. It had become a symbiotic relationship. It was almost comically parasitic. They fed off my ability, using me, and I needed that counteragent.

I'd never been one for dependencies. Drugs never interested me. There was too much out there to enjoy for me to get caught in the web of a junkie's nightmare. Here I was, though, depending on a drug to keep me whole and sane, just like a junkie lusting and hating the next shot of horse.

They say what goes around comes around and I've already got a clue as to what the picture held for me. Right now, it probably showed me going back to watching that bookstore with Hobbes.

And I was right, but I didn't know how right. I love a good mystery, but I had no idea that I was about to become the hard-nosed, wise-cracking detective. I really wouldn't have believed it; just like I wasn't going to believe what I found out.

I mean, we had me, the reluctant 'detective' here with the gift of being able to slip in and out of places unseen. Okay, so it melts my brain. I could live with that for the moment. Then, we had my partner, a crusty guy with experience who is perfect for backing up the detective, if he doesn't get him killed first.

Then, we have the mysterious woman. Correction, we had two mysterious women. One of them was as big a puzzle as the Great Sphinx, which I say was built for aliens, but what was Agent Ciara Mackenzie? The other woman came across in her picture to be as innocent of a crime as Tess Trueheart in the old Dick Tracy stories, but I'd been warned to watch out; I might have to kill her---which made no sense if she was only a hacker. There was the last things that my Keeper had given me, cryptically. How could I be invisible without being invisible?

It came then, as I headed down the hallway, to the corner office. I'd been doing it my whole life. Why hadn't I thought of it already? It was part of my bag of tricks as a thief. Again, it would serve me and just maybe prolong my existence. When you fit in against the background, why did you need to be invisible?

It was getting more exciting in my head and was a full-blown Sam Spade double feature by the time I reached the office on the second floor.

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Chapter Six:

"Careful with that." He smiled lop-sidedly at Eberts as he handed his digital camera over.

"I'll have it back to you in a few moments, Mister Fawkes." His voice could barely be heard over Hobbes, who was talking loudly at the moment about needing a vacation when this assignment was over. From what he could gather, he'd been out of commission an hour and a half, maybe two.

Darien turned and watched as Eberts left, evidence in hand. He was glad he'd made the investment of buying the palm-sized camera. Considering what the Agency was giving them to work with, he knew he'd done well in spending the money to equip himself.

He walked down the length of the office along the windows and wondered why he was feeling this excitement for the job. He hadn't gotten this hot for work since he'd been given the chance to do a sneak job as a thief that had required being able to quickly crack a master code that had never been taken before. The old Darien Fawkes had thrilled to the task at hand then, and somehow, he felt the same way now. It was a challenge. "Is it sun and pretty women you're after, Agent Hobbes?"

He looked around then, raising his eyes from the floor, and saw his partner's reaction to The Official's words.

"No way, Boss. The last time I mentioned that, you sent me to that shithole in Mexico. Forget that!"

Darien yawned and sprawled heavily into the seat, hearing it creak under his frame, and crossed his ankles. His still-upset partner shot him a dirty look.

"You're cocky for someone who just made a choice to go against rules. While you were being taken care of, Agent Hobbes informed me of your actions." The Official had remained behind the desk the entire time, seated. His pale, watery eyes narrowed in an amused expression that didn't quite reach the rest of his face.

"Yeh, well, I love the sensation of my brain frying. The pain is addictive." Darien folded his hands across his middle, leaving his elbows on the arms of his chair. He knew he was up to bat for his indiscretion, but he couldn't shake the idea that maybe now, after he'd brought in some evidence that might be of use, they'd be given more to go on with the missing agent and her hacker friend, Harmony Corwin.

"The next time you decide to do that whacked out crap, I'm not bringing you in, kid. You're gonna be on your own." Hobbes sitting beside him still held the pale creamy folder that contained the pictures and dossiers on people who probably had nothing to do with any of the explosions or agents' deaths.

Darien smiled as he looked at Hobbes, feeling a twinge of emotion for the bruise that showed starkly on his partner's right jaw. He didn't have to like the guy to hate what he'd done while his darker side reigned, but the smaller man didn't seem to think anything about it. He was taking it in stride; even his words were a bluff. He knew, like The Official and Hobbes both knew, that if it happened again, that the older agent would probably do the same all over again.

All the more reason, Darien Fawkes knew, to make sure it didn't happen any more than it had to. Now, though, he didn't want to think about that; he wanted to get to the point of the meeting.

"What's the deal with Ciara Mackenzie? Has she got the secret to the fountain of youth?"

The Official's smile was sly now as he put his glasses on and peered up, over another open file. "That's classified. I can assume that our missing agent showed up on time."

"You knew she was going to be there? Why didn't you just tell us?" Darien uncrossed his ankles and sat up straight, curious to know why they'd been sent to watch for a woman that had been expected to be in that spot at that exact moment.

"We wanted you to do precisely what you did."

"Oh, you mean lose control and melt down?" It came out sarcastic. He shot Hobbes a sideways glance and saw that his partner wore an expectant expression.

"That was unfortunate. What we were counting on was your unerring ability to think for yourself." The Official looked over the tops of his spectacles and his smile was thin. "We knew you'd try to get closer and you did."

Darien looked at the floor for a moment and nodded. "You were counting on me to go against procedure."

"Exactly. Your previous behavior was the deciding factor in putting you and Agent Hobbes at the scene." The voice was calm, calculating.

He knew what it boiled down to; they'd been put there because the Agency had nothing to lose at the moment if they'd discovered nothing and everything to gain if they'd managed to find information. It meant that the Agency had nothing conclusive except what he'd brought in today.

"Sounds like we got the shit end of the stick here." He stared hard at the man behind the desk and frowned.

"Regardless of your status in the Agency, you found more in just a few minutes than anyone has been able to gather in months of work." The Official's answering smile was knowingly secretive. "What did you find besides what you presented Eberts with on the camera?"

"I got a good look at a map in their office." It wasn't much, but it might solve some of the puzzle. Darien Fawkes was sure that there was a reason why that map had been on the computer screen. It had to be a target for some future action on the part of the female agent with the too-young face.

"Why don't you share the details of the map, as you remember them?" Hobbes spoke up then, his own lack of information making his curiosity obvious in his voice.

"I'd say, from what I saw, that she's targeting this office. The map was of this building, in 3D scale."

Looking at his partner, he saw Hobbes face show surprise. "She's going to blow up the Agency?"

"Looked like it to me, but it could be something else she's after." Darien looked from Hobbes to the older man who sat, hands folded together on the desk, carefully listening.

"Very astute of you, kid. Smart deduction. Chances are excellent that she's not going to bomb the building we're in. More than likely, it's information she's after. Just like you." The last came out slow and staccato as The Official removed his glasses once more and leaned back into his chair, smiling.

"You already knew she'd be there. You knew I'd go in, if I could. What I don't get is the fact that she's not aged."

"That's classified. Need to know." The man's eyes narrowed as he repeated his earlier statement regarding the mystery, but he was still listening, waiting.

"And we don't need to know." It was a simple statement from Hobbes. Darien fought and lost to the urge to give his partner a dirty look, whose face was blank.

"She knows everyone's face here but yours and Hobbes', hotshot. That was another reason for sending you in. When she resurfaced, she was seen in this building a number of times, but she never approached any of us. The last time she was spotted on surveillance video was just before you showed up on our doorstep." There was an inflection in the superior's voice that struck a chord with Darien.

"Showed up on the doorstep. That's good." He grinned humorlessly.

"We have IDs on everyone who has worked with her in the past. A few of them have been spotted here, as well, in last few months." The Official didn't rise to the barbed remark.

"And you think she doesn't work with newbies?" Darien continued smiling.

"Like many seasoned professionals who build small networks of information holders, assistants, and contacts, she prefers to continue linear relationships. Why ruin a good thing when you know who you're dealing with?" Hobbes said as he opened the folder he held and leafed through the pictures inside.

"You mean she's as paranoid as you and everyone else?" Looking over his partner's shoulder, he noted that Hobbes had stopped at the picture of the suspect they were talking about. He watched as the picture was turned over nonchalantly, to show the slightly smeared name and the faded number in the corner.

"It seems she might be intending to use her expertise to get rid of a few people." Hobbes' voice was quiet. He was still looking at the back of the picture.

"She's going Postal and the Agency thinks she's added these offices on the roster." Darien turned to look at the silent man behind the desk who had gone back to staring at the papers in front of him. "What did you do to her? Refuse her vacation request?"

Hobbes frowned without looking up.

Just then, Eberts came back in. Without a word, the assistant handed the camera back to him and moved to stand by The Official. Darien put the digital camera in his jacket pocket. He saw Eberts lay a sheaf of papers on the desk directly in front of the boss.

"Agent Mackenzie had a service record that went back many untarnished years, through many branches of the Agency and the FBI. She was considered one of the CIA’s best agents, her method and attitude were unconventional and very professional." Looking up from pushing the pages around on his desk, the boss was serious, despite what Darien had said.

"She always got her man." Eberts spoke now, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I like her already. You don't have to go on impressing me this way." Darien smiled and sat back in the seat, cupping his chin on the palm of a hand.

"She also had a habit of questioning authority. Sound familiar?" The Official's face had creased into another thin smile and he looked down at the pages that Eberts had put before him.

"Like someone we know?" Hobbes had gone past Agent Mackenzie's picture and had continued to leaf through the pictures and profiles, his eyes moving constantly.

"On an Agency case ten years ago, she went against procedure and let the suspect she'd been chasing get away. When asked about it at a debriefing, she refused to explain where the suspect had gone to or why she'd allowed a dangerous individual to escape." The voice of The Official stopped as the older man took a breath.

Soft-hearted women." He saw Hobbes out of the corner of his eye nod. "I won't work with them."

"You've had offers?" Darien turned completely in his seat to face his partner, cocking an eyebrow.

"In any case, she went against Agency procedure and while being debriefed about the assignment, she shot the agent in charge of the investigation and pulled a disappearing act."

He turned his head again to look at The Official behind his desk. Before he could ask, Eberts spoke up, never moving.

"Right in front of the entire board of review."

"She vanished?" Darien looked from one to the other of the poker faces. "Right in front of a bunch of suits? This was hushed up, I assume."

"We couldn't take the risk of it leaking to the wrong people. The public would be in an uproar if they knew there was a dangerous element on the loose among them." The straight-faced Official moved several of the pages and studied them, holding his glasses a few inches over the pages.

"You mean they don't know about Hobbes here?"

His partner looked up and scowled. "Hey, pal, I do my job and if the public don't need to know, we don't tell them."

The Official laid his spectacles down on the pages and went on, ignoring the outburst. "Agent Mackenzie and Harmony Corwin came out of hiding almost two months ago and since then, they've methodically been moving among us."

"Why weren't they taken into custody then?" Darien reached out and took the picture that lay on the top of the pile in the open folder that Hobbes continued to look at.

"There were extenuating circumstances in the case of her first attack upon surfacing. She has, with the help of an old friend---a highly trained assassin---paid visits to two CIA safe houses and they've conveniently blown up, taking only one agent with each explosion." Eberts spoke and then pointed to something on one of the papers he'd laid on the desk, silently calling The Official's attention to it.

"You said that Harmony Corwin was hacking the information on these places and that Agent Mackenzie was doing the dirty work. Her other contacts had nothing to do with this, did they?" Darien looked at the young bookstore owner's picture and then glanced up to see a slow smile spreading on the boss' face.

"You're getting the picture now. It all comes down to the bookstore being the base of operations. We have no proof, of course, and that was why the two of you were sent." The smile hadn't disappeared and Darien became uneasy under it.

"Let me take a wild guess." Hobbes had closed the folder now and was leaning forward on his knees, his face all business. "No one but the CIA agents she was working with in that old assignment she fucked up are dying. She's killing off the ones who witnessed her mistake."

"Congratulations, Hobbes. You're a step ahead here. So far, we believe she's killed three. One of them is confirmed as being definitely her handiwork; she left a signature on the first dead agent. There's been one more for every month she's been out of hiding." The Official laced his fingers over the pages and looked from Hobbes to Darien Fawkes.

"What is she targeting this office for?" Darien glanced up from the picture of the innocent-looking Miss Corwin.

"She either intends to blow it up or she's gathering her information from here. The guess is that it's both, since the files that were cracked were Agency." His expression never changing, Eberts spoke for the boss.

"Could she be targeting the FBI or CIA, as well?" He listened as Hobbes brought up what Darien had been thinking.

"Not likely. She was working for the FBI, through the CIA, but the case was Agency. So far, only one of the dead agents has been FBI." The Official rose then, moving his bulk towards the windows. Once there, he looked out and continued to talk. "She knows every tactic and procedure that has ever been used by CIA, FBI, and the Agency. No one can get close enough to tag her or her hacker friend."

"Until I went in and stood inches from her. Who's the Bureau fed she killed?" Darien handed the picture he'd been holding back to Hobbes, who slid it into the folder without a word.

Eberts moved then and took a couple of pages from the corner of the desk, after the boss nodded at him. He handed the pages to Darien, who noted the picture in the right hand corner of the first paper.

"Decorated for exemplary government service, Special Agent Bryan Grant was one of the best." It was said in a monotone as the assistant stepped back, behind the desk once more.

Darien looked through the pages and then looked up, his face showing his surprise. "They were partners."

"Is that the same Bryan Grant that was involved in the Goldburg Maneuver?" Hobbes' leaned over and stretched to see the face that was on the first page.

"It was." The Official continued to look out the windows.

Hobbes whistled low, under his breath. "She got him."

Darien had gone on, reading the material gathered in the dossier he'd been given to look at. He found the mentioned assignment. "You were on that case, man."

"I gathered surveillance information that led to the end of a serious political threat. Special Agent Grant used the information to do his job." Hobbes spoke quietly, his voice inflectionless.

"You mean he horned in and took your assignment." Darien handed the papers to his partner and finished his observation. "I guess you're not exactly crying the blues over him being killed by his one-time partner."

Hobbes shrugged and took the pages. He slipped them into the folder, as well. "He was a good agent."

"You hated him, didn't you." Darien felt a little sympathy for his partner, who seemed to be showing more facets than any diamond he'd ever gotten his mitts on. He was beginning to see why Hobbes was so defensive. He might not exactly enjoy the guy's company and he might hate the pro-government attitude, but he knew about being screwed by the system.

Hobbes had been staring at him but before he could speak up, the boss turned from the window and addressed Darien.

"You are to go back, with Hobbes, and watch closer. I've been told your homing chip is on her vehicle." At the words, Darien remembered that the woman had said she'd be back in a few hours. He looked at his watch. She had to be back by now.

"Get in closer if you can and find out who she's going after next. We'll analyze the data you brought in and see if there's any correlation between what she's already done and what she might be planning." The Official walked to the desk and now stood beside Eberts.

"If I have to go quicksilver, I'm gonna go bananas again. You know that." Darien looked at Hobbes' jaw, where the bruise was livid.

"It's a risk you are going to have to take this time, kid." There was sympathy in the boss' words that actually showed up in the voice, as well.

"Tell my friend in the lab coat that she'd better rush a batch of counteragent, if she can. The next time Hobbes has to bring me in, I'll probably have chewed his arm off." It was no idle threat.

Darien said it, knowing that it was a possibility that he might kill his partner without thinking rationally about it. Once the madness had come back, he would only have a little while before the monster in his head would strike out violently. If he were overly emotional at the time it happened, he wouldn't even have that long.

"As long as you don't blow the cover off this job, you do what you have to do and we'll take care of the rest." The words were cold, but when he looked up to study the man's face, he saw nothing but a quiet, half-hidden concern in The Official's features as he went on, speaking.

"Be careful, Fawkes. You have a window of opportunity here. Don't blow it. You share a trait of distrust with Agent Mackenzie that will allow you to think like her."

"And you want me to get close enough to really spy on Harmony Corwin."

"That's the plan, kid. She's the hacker. Be careful with her. She's more dangerous than you think." The words were a warning. "If she compromises your life or the safety of the Agency, you or Agent Hobbes will kill her."

"She's only hacking files, right?" Darien stood up, remembering again the face from the picture.

"Watch your back and remember that she's aiding Ciara Mackenzie in possibly killing government agents. You'll---" The warning look on the boss' face never changed. Darien sighed and nodded.

"Think of something, right?" He moved to walk across the office, to leave. Hobbes had risen to follow him.

"Fawkes? A piece of information you need to know before going into this."

He stopped in his tracks and turned on his heels to stare at The Official, waiting. "Yes?"

"Harmony Corwin was involved with the assignment that blew up in Agent Mackenzie's face ten years ago."

Darien, puzzled, looked from the boss to Hobbes and then back to The Official. "How? Was she a witness or something, aiding the Agency? She would have been just a kid then."

"No. She was the assignment. Harmony Corwin was the person that escaped, thanks to Agent Ciara Mackenzie."

@@@

Chapter Seven:

"You're sure you'll be alright doing this?" Hobbes sounded concerned. His face was turned away, while he played with some control dials on the soundboard in the back of the van.

"Oh, yeh. I'm fine with this. Be kinda nice, really. Pull a con and not have to lose my mind for the second time today. It works for me."

"You sure you shouldn't take the headpiece with you? If you and that stupid 'bionic' gland get in trouble, you're gonna need back-up." Hobbes still hadn't turned around.

Darien sighed and touched his jacket lapel.

"I'm thrilled that you wanna stick so close, Hobbes, but I think the bug'll do the trick." He was wearing a wireless mike on the bottom side of the leather's fold. It would allow Hobbes to hear what he was getting into, but there was to be no two-way communication.

"I still think it's a crazy plan to try it this way. But, I don't see any other way, either, so..."

"Man, let me do this and I'm telling you, I'll get what we need on that place." He was sure that if he could go invisible again that he'd find out so much more, but he didn't think he'd make it. Trying it this way, he might get something, if not what they were really wanting to know.

At the very least, he'd be able to check the store's owner out and see what she was like. If she was a tough customer, like he'd been warned, he could go back and try it again, using the gland. They had some time to work on this; it wasn't going to blow up in their face immediately---at least, it wouldn't if they believed the information they'd been given so far.

He wanted to see if he could play the visible angle and make Harmony Corwin trust him enough to get a look at the computer again...but it was all on a wing and a prayer, now. He was going to have to play by his instincts, which he knew would be nearly as dangerous as what he'd been doing, going into the bookstore invisible.

"If you did this stuff before, why was it you ended up here?" Hobbes looked around then, a sly grin starting on his face.

Darien shrugged and pulled on the backpack that Hobbes was leaned against. His partner had put his headgear on and was ready to start eavesdropping.

"I didn't get busted for pulling a con on a woman, Hobbes." He put the backpack over one shoulder and held out his hand. "Give me the other bug..."

Hobbes handed him the tiny piece that he was going to place somewhere...if he could get back into the office. He had an idea that he knew how to work that angle, too.

"Oh, yeh. I forgot. You got busted for sexual molestation of the elderly." The smirk his partner wore was infuriating.

"I didn't molest him. I was robbing him and he fainted, had a heart attack---something. Can I help it if I'm a nice guy?" Darien slid the bug into his jacket pocket and adjusted the strap on the backpack. He had to admit, to himself, that when he looked at getting busted from this new, different place, it even seemed ironically funny. In a sad way.

"I knew I liked you for some reason, hot shot. But, old men?"

"Give me a fuckin' break, Hobbes." It was hard not to smile at it. "You weren't there. You didn't see how it went down."

"I wish I had. Damn, that must’ve been funny---deer caught in the headlights, you know?" His partner widened his eyes and his mouth dropped open, imitating Darien's probable expression. "Oh, no, officer, it's definitely not what you think it is."

Darien fought the grin that threatened to creep up on him and pulled out the glasses he'd brought to use. They'd stopped on the way here, at his apartment, to pick up the backpack crammed with books and papers and for him to prepare the physical side of the con.

He wanted it to look right. He had to walk the walk and talk the talk.

Dressed now in slacks with loafers, he'd managed to find a clean shirt that didn't look too sloppy. He wanted the casual, student-like impression. The glasses finished it off. He slid them on and let his eyes adjust to seeing through the lenses.

"Are you gonna comb your hair or what?" Hobbes leaned back and studied him, narrowing his eyes. "You still look like a freakin' bum."

"It's fine. I know what I'm doing, Hobbes. You just make sure that you get everything on tape."

Pushing the door open on the back of the van, he hopped out and closed it behind him.

They'd parked several blocks away from the book store, in the chance that someone might be watching The Neon Silence. There was always a chance that this agent, Ciara Mackenzie, was prepared for spies or an attack.

He walked at an even pace, looking around him as if he belonged in this place, with it's rows of orderly oaks and straight-laced houses and little mom and pop businesses. He had to be the man he was pretending to be.

As he turned the corner, he spotted the motorcycle in front of the store. She was back. He slowed his pace to a stroll. Darien thought hard about what he could possibly request that would take a computer to maybe order online, as some bookstores did nowadays.

Maybe a book on Tantric massage.

Lately, he'd been doing more yoga, more meditation, trying to keep the demon at bay without getting a shot. The longer he could go without the counteragent, the better he'd be at controlling this thing on his own. He stood a chance of escaping the Agency if he could go without the Keeper's syringe.

Darien Fawkes began whistling tunelessly, slipping into character. He suddenly thought of the movie his brother had given him years back, for Christmas, "Big Trouble In Little China". There was a scene where a character had tried to pull a con by acting like another kind of person, alien to his nature. It hadn't worked because it was so far from the reality of the character's personality.

He had to do better. By dressing and acting as much like Kevin---who’d have no problem walking into any bookstore and ordering anything he wanted---as possible, he stood a chance of succeeding at this; becoming a chameleon in a bookstore where murder was being plotted.

The sudden memory of Kevin made him pause and feel sick to his stomach. Kevin had done this to him and he would never know if it had been really out of his brother's control or whether his older brother had intended to make him into a walking time bomb.

Kevin had always had a thing for that old movie, The Invisible Man. He'd watched it a lot when they were kids. And then, the boy's fancy had become the man's reality. Unfortunately, it was no dream come true.

He'd believed in Kevin, being a sucker for the relationship he'd wanted with his brother, and look where he was. On one hand, he was stuck doing something that could get him killed faster than a bullet in the brain. On the other hand, Kevin had believed in him---at least, he hoped so.

At the door, he looked at the store, as if seeing it for the first time. Darien peered into the windows and then saw that the little boy wasn't there anymore. There were no extra people around, to have to fool.

And there stood a woman at the counter, pulling books out of a packing box. A shipment? She looked like she was doing some kind of inventory. Alone. Good. The less people he had to concentrate on, the better he'd be at the con.

He yanked the door open and walked in, thankful for the bells that went off above his head. Earlier, he'd have done anything to send the noisemakers to brass hell, but now they brought her attention to him.

"Hi, welcome to the mess. Can I help you with anything?" He saw Harmony wipe her hands down the front of her jeans and start to step around the counter's high side, pushing her wire-framed glasses up her nose.

He looked around, seeing the shelf he wanted to aim for. "I thought I'd just browse for a few minutes."

"That's fine." Her smile was sunny. She was a very attractive person; how could she be so dangerous that he'd been told to kill her if he felt his life was in danger? Again, he slipped a thought and wondered what was going on that she'd been involved in a investigation by the Agency so young and why had Ciara Mackenzie, a good soldier, gone against procedure to let her get away?

"Thanks." He smiled back, broadly, and walked quickly towards the loose-standing shelf he'd noticed when he'd been in the shop before. It was in just the right place for an accident. Continuing to grin at her over his shoulder, he banged into the shelf and tumbled with it.

Bingo---he had done it just right!

Hitting the floor, he groaned and rolled away from the pile of books he'd taken down, pulling his backpack with him. He was sure there would be some bruises.

"Oh, no! I--am--so sorry."

She came from her boxes and packing invoices then and helped him up, giving him her hand. No ring. Not married in a conventional sense, just like the profile had said.

Harmony was chuckling then, as she began to shove and pull at the shelf, bringing it off the floor. Her dish-water blonde brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail that swung with her body's efforts.

Getting up, Darien stepped in close and helped her with the bookshelf. It was solid wood and heavier than he'd thought; how had he managed to knock it down? It had looked much lighter---and he'd taken the tumble, believing his eyes. He'd gotten lucky, managing to get it off of its base.

"It's okay. It gets knocked over on a regular basis. I really ought to move it."

He smiled down at the young woman, remembering that this wasn't the first time he'd pulled this kind of con---but he'd never had so much to lose before.

"I'm just sorry I made a mess." Darien bent to pick up more of the books and she spoke once more, shaking her head at him as he glanced up at her, remembering what he was supposed to be doing.

"Don't bother. I'll get it later." Again, the round, soft-looking face was split by the bright, innocent smile that made her blue-tan eyes narrow behind the lenses she wore.

"If you need anything, let me know. I'm Harmony Corwin." She moved then, going back to the counter, back to her invoices.

He moved down the narrow aisles and checked out the walls, ceilings, and shelves carefully. Darien looked for cameras, located in places that would prevent theft and that might give him away, if he had to come back later.

He found the section on physical therapy and massage, gazed down over all the titles and found nothing on Tantric massage methods.

He had seen nothing in the way of security, but he knew that it was always a chance---he'd found out the hard way that there was always a chance--- Fate had a way of snagging him at the worst possible moments, during what started out as the easiest con jobs.

Now, he would have to make his move. Darien finished scoping the place out and then moved up towards the counter.

"Excuse me." When she looked up, he gave her his most winsome, nervous-seeming smile, and then went on. "I was wondering if maybe you carried books on Tantra."

Her straight eyebrows flew upwards, in an amused expression. She seemed on the verge of laughing outloud. "Tantra? As in Tantric sexuality?"

Darien wondered what Hobbes thought about this, listening in, sitting in the back of the tan, beat-up van. Was his partner laughing now, trying to contain himself to keep from missing the conversation? He pictured the barely self-contained agent he'd been paired up with, eyes squeezed shut in silent laughter, and found himself happy with the image.

He knew it was probably not what Hobbes was doing, but it was a nice thought.

He'd paused, letting her words hang in the air between them. It hadn't been what he'd meant to do, but it did add something to the situation.

"Actually, I'm looking for a book on Tantric massage methods. It's for a friend of mine." Lame, lame, lame, he pounded on his brain mentally. Her smile broadened and he stopped berating himself. She was buying it or at least going along with the suggestion.

"In this neighborhood, we don't get much call for Eastern medicine, or philosophy, for that matter. Let me see."

He watched, interestedly, as she pulled a book out, laid it on the double stack of books she'd been cataloguing, and leafed through the onion- skin pages. Darien saw her brow crease. He noted that the book was written in pen ink, in a flowing hand that was probably hers.

"I have nothing in stock." Her eyes moved behind her glasses as she studied the page. She looked up and smiled, apologetically. "I am sorry, Mr..."

A momentary lapse passed, measured in seconds, as he stared at her, lost.

"Roberts. Kevin Roberts." It was the best he could do on the spur of the moment. Why, he wondered, hadn't he thought about a possible name? He'd remembered the look and the attitude, but he'd forgotten about the identity part of a successful con. The first thing he'd come up with was Hobbes' first name, made into a surname.

Darien tried not to let the momentary lapse panic him: Hobbes must be laughing by now, or ready to kill him for trying this insanity. What he could gain from getting into that office again, to plant the bug, was going to be nothing if something happened and he got pinched again.

Harmony looked at him now with a strange expression on her round-cheeked face. It was as if she recognized him. "Well, I'd really like to help you, Mr. Roberts, but we don't carry anything like it. Perhaps I could order a book on Tantric massage for you?"

He looked past her and then brought his eyes back to her, shaking his head. "It is alright. I wanted to give it to my friend for his birthday. I don't have time to wait for it." Darien let the disappointment seep into his voice as he made a movement towards the door, as if to leave. "Thank you, though, for trying."

"It's okay." She leaned over the counter, and placed both hands on the onion skin book. "I have a computer. I can have it here late tomorrow afternoon."

He stopped and turned to face her completely again. "Tomorrow?"

"Is that too late?" Harmony Corwin's brow creased again.

"No..." Darien grinned, broadly, trying to look very relieved. "That's not too late. His birthday is tomorrow."

He watched as she stood up straight and came around the counter, to walk to the office. For a moment, he stood still. When she got to the doorway in the back wall, she stopped and turned, to speak. "I think I'm going to need you to narrow the search down. It's okay. You can come on back."

He hurried to enter the office. Once inside, he glanced around, appraisingly, as if he'd never seen the place before. Nothing had changed; not a single thing was different. The computer was on, playing the nature scenes screensaver and speaking in Japanese.

"Please, have a seat." Harmony indicated the wooden chair that sat beside the desk. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and sat down gingerly, being careful of the pile of three-ring binders that lay, piled on the corner of the cluttered desk.

"Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. Roberts?" She stood, graciously smiling at him, and he realized he felt no remorse for pulling this con. He knew he ought to, but he simply wanted her to leave the room for a moment, more than anything. He'd gotten into the office and now...

He looked around the walls and the ceiling and found no sign of a closed circuit camera.

"I could use a water, if it's not too much bother." Darien made a point to glance at the stairs that led upwards. The smell of something spicy cooking floated from up there; a kitchen. Maybe, an apartment. There was the sound of something clattering, then.

"Oh, that." She'd followed his gaze. "My friend is cooking dinner early today. Wait here. I'll be right back."

Quickly, she climbed the stairs. Darien, watching, noted that she stepped completely over the bottom step. He knew it was the one that made the noise. He heard little else as she disappeared from view.

He felt under the desk with sensitive fingers and found a solid, hidden place close to the front, where the face of the desk was screwed into the frame. It was perfect.

He took the bug out of his jacket pocket and slid it back into the recessed spot and pressed its surface. It moved slightly, grabbing into the wood, and turning on. It made a single, tiny blipping sound, telling him that Hobbes now knew that the bug had been planted. His partner would turn on the tape recorder that was linked.

Harmony Corwin was coming back down. He straightened up in his seat and smiled again, as she stepped over the bottom step. In one hand, she carried a glass of water and she used the other to hold the wall.

"You live upstairs from the store?" It was a generic question and he hoped it wasn't too much. He was rewarded with an answer.

"Yes. It's cheaper than renting an apartment and it's a nice place. Very retro." She handed him the glass and Darien murmured his thanks. He took a little sip of it and then set it down, away from the computer. "We don't require much space."

"I get you." He looked pointedly at the computer and saw that she got the hint, too. She sat down in the swivel chair and scooted closer to the desk.

"Okay, Mr. Roberts." Her voice was business now, as she moved the mouse and the screensaver disappeared. The voice in Korean stopped with a hum and click from the hard drive. "What exactly are you looking for? Simple text, diagrams, or something with photos?"

She clicked the mouse over the screen and the map was gone before he could really see it. He heard the computer dial the phone and go online. Harmony typed in something, fast, and then a book seller's website showed up.

Her fingers clacked over the keys and a list of books appeared, with descriptions in a different color text.

"I believe something with diagrams would be alright, but if you can get one with photos, that might be better." Darien leaned closer, onto his knees, and looked at the computer screen. Her hand moved the mouse and the screen scrolled down quickly, then stopped and backed up a half-screen.

"Here we are." Harmony's voice was triumphant and he laughed at the sound of success in her words, knowing it was what a guy like Kevin Roberts would do.

She wrote a title down on a piece of paper and then tallied up the total. "With express, it's a few dollars more, but what's a few dollars between friends?" Her grin was contagious. Darien smiled back.

"Not a problem." He hoped it wasn't, if he actually had to buy the book.

"It will be---twenty five sixty three. Um, Mr. Roberts, I need a third of it up front. That's not a problem, is it?" Her eyes moved across the screen and then to meet his.

"Cash okay?" He dug his wallet out and took out his last fifteen dollars. It was days until he got paid again.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need anything before then. He handed her the money and sighed silently to himself, knowing it was money he'd not see again. There couldn't be a reimbursement or write off; if Hobbes couldn't get his parking validated, then there was no chance in hell that he'd get fifteen bucks back for a book.

"Cash is fine." She counted it and laid it to the side. "All I need now is a telephone number and your street address, for our records."

He gave her the address of the apartment building he'd noted a mile from his own place. Darien paused, watching her write the information down, and then gave her a randomly created telephone number, accurate for that area.

Done, she looked up at him, from over her glasses. They'd slipped down her nose. Self-consciously, he adjusted his own and watched as she responded, doing the same.

"Is that all for you today, then?" Her cheeks had flushed just the tiniest bit, making her look younger yet.

"I think so. You say it will be here tomorrow afternoon?" He stared at her, wondering why she was classified as dangerous, when she was so young and innocent-seeming. Darien, continuing to smile, asked himself how this woman, who was barely out of her teens, could possibly be a hacker who wasn't above murdering government agents.

There was something in the picture he was missing. He was curious, at the very least, to bag this assignment so that he could find out what her game really was. He hoped desperately that he wouldn't have to find out what killing her was like. Killing was something he didn't want to do, but to kill her after having talked to her, being so friendly, would be right out of the worst case scenario he could think of.

"Yes. Probably by six. We're open to seven, so if you'll come by around then, I'll have it ready for you." She stood up then and walked past him, to the door. Darien grabbed his backpack, laid the strap across his shoulder, and followed.

"I'm glad you decided to do business with us, Mr. Roberts." Her back was turned to him as they made the trip to the front door. "How did you manage to find us? We're so out of the way."

Fumbling the ball, Darien thought fast. "My sister lives up this way and I'd seen the sign and thought it was interesting---how did you come up with the name?"

His heart was in his throat, like a bird, thrashing at him to get out.

"It's the name of a song by an old delta-blues guitarist. I just loved the song." She opened the door for him and the bells went off again, tinkling in the small interim between her words. "I thought it was romantic."

"It's certainly eye-catching, Miss Corwin." Stopping in the door, he looked outside and gazed at the Harley that gleamed like reflective midnight at the curb. "Nice bike."

"Yes, it is, Mr. Roberts. My roommate's." The way she said it----

He stepped out on the sidewalk, right under the awning, and turned to look at her. The sunlight fell into her face, bringing a glare to her glasses that cut his view of her eyes.

"He's a lucky guy." Darien looked away, back at the motorcycle, with admiration evident in his voice and hoped he didn't sound fake. He knew who the bike belonged to; he wanted to hear it from her.

"She certainly is." Harmony Corwin's tone told him everything else he needed to know about her. "I will see you tomorrow, then, when you come to pick up your friend's book."

"Have a nice day, Miss Corwin." He turned and began moving up the street, going away from where Hobbes waited in the van. He would make a circle, at the nearest block.

"You too, Mr. Roberts. See you then." Then she was gone, back into the shop. He smiled to himself and took his glasses off, putting them in his jacket.

He had to get back in there. Something in his brain niggled and pointed to what might lay upstairs, hidden out of sight. If she regularly ordered books for customers, then what he really wanted to see wasn't in the office, in public view. It would be out of the way, maybe in the apartment at the top of the stairs.

"Not if I see you before then."

@@@

Chapter Eight:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

If anyone had told me six months ago I would believe what Harmony Corwin presented herself to be, I'd have told them that they were full of shit. I'd met her and talked with her. Something made me want to believe she was the innocent, sweet bookstore owner, as she'd led the world to believe. I wanted to believe it; but, somewhere, in talking to her, I'd started to suspect the way she acted. It had to be an act; if she was that nice, why did the Agency want her for hacking files? Why had Hobbes and I been told to kill her, if she endangered us? What was she really about?

I pondered it as I took a good look at the neighborhood. None of what I'd been told fit in the picture. If she was a con who did computer work for a killer, then she was good at the mask she wore under the name of Neon Blue. She seemed far too young to be that good, so it couldn't be a complete con job on her part. It confused me and all I could do was hope that the bug I'd planted would produce something more than what I'd seen and heard there.

Right now, all I had were questions and more questions. I knew how a con artist was made; I'd been one most of my life. She was, by her file, only a kid, barely out of her teens. Ten years ago, when she'd been involved in the assignment that had cost the agent-in-charge's life and had taken Ciara underground, disappearing literally, Harmony Corwin had been only ten, maybe eleven. What could she be that she'd been the actual subject of the investigation Ciara Mackenzie and her fellow agents had been working on? Questions and more questions.

I was sure that she'd not disappeared from the view of the world when Agent Mackenzie had ended the investigation with a gun shot in a debriefing room. Why hadn't anyone picked the child up and put her in protective custody or whatever they'd had planned for her? If she was dangerous enough to warrant a full-scale investigation, why had the case ended so suddenly? How had she escaped, as it was written in the file on her? Ciara Mackenzie, going against procedure, had let her get away? Not likely to be an accident---nothing added up.

The AWOL agent had given no excuse for her behavior. She'd killed the agent-in-charge and disappeared. Invisibility? I had no idea what that was about. Again, my mind went back to the escape. Why? The child had been school-aged. Where were her parents? Did she have parents? What had she been doing?

My train of thought circled in on itself as I walked, headed back towards the van, where it was parked blocks away, around the corner. I couldn't believe that it had been any accident that the Feds or the Agency had simply let her walk. No, with the events involved, that wasn't plausible.

I thought about Jessica then, feeling the key around my throat, and wondered if she was okay where she was. She'd left out of my life so quickly, with a piece of me in her pocket. She was nearly the same age that Harmony would have been ten years ago. Could a sweet-faced child like Jessica be dangerous? Could she be someone that the Agency would ever investigate in conjunction with an assignment?

Could an innocent child, such as Jessica, ever become the target of such an assignment? What would become of such a situation? It didn't seem likely to me that a child of ten could be dangerous enough to require guns or a full-scale manhunt...but she'd escaped Ciara Mackenzie, an agent with a sterling record of long service to her country...with the help of that agent.

I touched the key through my shirt and hoped Jessica was okay. Being Ralph had been like getting to be a kid again, doing kid things and thinking kid thoughts...getting into the mind of an eight-year old. It had been a great and painful experience. I'd gotten shot and I'd lost some of my cynicism in the flood of being Jessica's imaginary friend.

Now, I asked myself---if Ciara Mackenzie was anything like that. Had she, in the face of that ten-year-old child, been unable to finish her assignment? Had a bond been formed there? Even a duty-hardened agent had a heart, I believed. She was a woman and she had to have known children before...was it the reason she'd let the child go? How had she done it?

Bringing my thoughts back to Jessica, I tried to imagine being in Agent Ciara Mackenzie's shoes. If it had been Jessica who was in trouble like that, I would probably let her escape, too....Hell, I'd do more than that. I'd help her. I'd put her some place safe and out of harm's reach and then I'd take care of business. If she'd had parents, I'd have made sure that they needed for nothing and that they were all safe.

I nearly lost my step as I realized it. It had to be what Ciara had done. She'd had a bond with the little girl that Harmony'd been ten years ago. She'd not only let her escape, she'd helped the child do it----somehow. And now, after ten years, she'd come back from the underground, and gone to Harmony who used a hacker's handle of Neon Blue, and gotten the young woman's help in killing the agents that had been on the assignment with Agent Mackenzie. She'd kept that bond...there was no doubt. The two women had to have been in contact in the last years.

Now, all I had to figure out was why Ciara Mackenzie, one of the Fed's best, had been watching a child during that time and why she was killing agents now...her old FBI partner had been her first victim and by far, the most brutal. It had been no explosion that took his life, like the other two; what was that about?

I knew my detective work was far from over.

@@@

"What the hell is Tantra?" Hobbes pushed the headphones off his head as Darien climbed into the van. His first reaction had been to draw his gun, but upon seeing his partner, he'd stopped.

Darien's heart had jumped at the implied threat the nearly-pulled gun brought. "We need to develop a signal or something to let you know when it's me. You could've shot me."

"You should have spoken outloud and let me know it was you, Fawkes." Hobbes implied the mike that the younger man wore under the leather of his lapel.

Throwing the backpack down on the floor of the van, Darien sat down on the chair he'd been occupying earlier. "Tantra? Now, why would you want to know about that?" He ran a hand over his hair, still frowning at his earlier train of thought.

"Because you just ordered a book on it? What is it, some more of that holistic bullshit you do?" Hobbes pulled the earphones back on and turned back to the soundboard. He unplugged the wire from one tape recorder and shoved it into the jack on another, where the tape was already turning, very slowly. "Shh...I'm gonna check that bug you just planted."

Darien said nothing. He was hungry and he still had work to do before he could eat. Somehow, he had to go back in there and manage to get up those stairs. It meant going see-through and it meant going back before the store closed. He looked at his watch. He had only an hour...and maybe he'd get the chance to get through the door without being seen or heard.

"Nothing yet." Hobbes took one of the cans off his head and let it settle against his neck. "So, tell me, hotshot, is she all that?"

"She's a con, but I can't figure out where the lie begins and where it ends." He shook his head and leaned his skull back on the wall. "I don't get it."

"Don't get what, Fawkes? That a pretty girl could kill? Trust me, I've seen them all do things at some point that seem improbable. If she was wanted ten years ago, then chances are excellent that she is dangerous now, too." Hobbes unscrewed the cap off a bottle of water and drank from it, taking huge swallows.

Darien looked at him, puzzled. "That's what I don't get, Hobbes. She was ten years old---what did she do that she was the person the Agency was after?"

"Who knows?" His partner listened to the one earpiece and then looked up at him. "Nothing. Something. Who knows? Look, kid, they must have had a good reason to be hunting her---maybe she wasn't really who they were looking for, but a witness who wouldn't cooperate. Like your little girlfriend..."

Darien thought about Jessica again. "No. The boss said she was the subject of the assignment. Those agents, Mackenzie and her partner from the FBI, they were watching a ten year old kid, man. They were chasing her." He pointed to the picture of Harmony Corwin, as she looked now, where Hobbes had pinned it to the wooden board above the equipment.

"Ours not to question..." Hobbes didn't finish. Instead, his eyes had searched the air before him, unseeing, as he listened to the earpiece again. "Oh, wait a minute."

"Do you hear something?" Darien leaned forward and looked at the other agent's face. He reached under his seat and took out his own water and drank from it, still watching his partner's expression.

"Oh, shit. You should hear this." Hobbes took the earphones' jack out of the board and pressed a button. The speakers came on and broadcast the hidden mike's audio into the van's interior. Two voices, both female, were there, being recorded. Darien listened, in growing amazement, to the conversation.

'You're going out there tonight? I thought you were expecting a call from France?' Harmony Corwin's voice was what he heard first. There was a movement near the mike's position. He guessed that someone was sitting at the desk.

'I have to. It’s supposed to be ready soon...but I won't be gone long, a stor.' Ciara's voice was farther away, but still in the room. 'I’ve already heard from France. Come up and eat dinner and I'll tell you what he said on the phone.'

'I don't want to know---he’s pissed at me. If it's what you two want to do, then do it. I can't stop you.' Harmony's voice was soft, nearly unheard despite her probable place at the desk.

'No. You won't stop us---it’s for your own good. A stor, your dinner is getting cold where it sits. Eat and then we'll play a game before I go.' There was more movement and Ciara Mackenzie's accented voice came closer to the mike's placement on the bottom of the desk.

Darien suddenly had a nightmare vision of the ex-agent finding the bug he'd planted. The alarm would go up and they'd never stand a chance of getting back in that store or up those stairs. If they were lucky, they wouldn't end up dead.

"Where'd her file say she was from?" Hobbes said it, his mouth tightened. "She's not from America."

"That makes her from somewhere else, I take it?" Darien took another drink of water. "Her file was empty, remember? Privileged information"

The conversation was going on, and then he heard it swing to the man he'd been when he'd been in the bookstore. Ciara asked after the young man who'd ordered the book.

'Didn't you check the monitor? I thought you would as soon as you knew there was someone here.' Harmony's voice was tired.

'I think he was rather attractive. What did you think, Harmony?'

'Nice guy. Looked like…him. God, I hope he didn’t think I was staring. Looking for a book on Tantric massage methods. He seemed straight up.'

Hobbes looked at him out of the corner of his dark eyes and smirked. "Nice guy. Straight up? I think she's got something for you, kid. You made an impression."

"Shhh." Darien waved a hand at his partner and leaned farther off his chair and concentrated on her voice.

'I looked at him on the monitor. He looked normal. Too normal.' Agent Mackenzie's voice was farther away again, and then he heard the tell-tale shot of the bottom step being stepped on.

'You're being paranoid, Ciara. He was just a guy looking for a birthday present. Interesting book he ordered. Wonder if it was really for some friend...' The voice changed and then they could hear the sound of the chair moving. It rolled away from the desk.

'It probably was for him. What does it matter? Interesting book or not, he was suspicious. I saw him looking for cameras.'

Darien's mouth went dry. There'd been cameras...at least one. She'd seen him searching the walls and ceiling. She knew what she'd seen. She recognized it. Man, it was gonna be so hard to pull this off. He had another mental vision of getting blown away by the tall woman with the cold, pale eyes for just looking for security cameras.

He took another deep drink of his water and closed his eyes, seeing the office in his mind, picturing them as they stood. The voices were farther away now---he heard Harmony's words as she walked away from the desk.

'Jonathan's coming here in a few minutes. I’ll wait for him.'

'How long is a few minutes, Harmony? When he leaves, you can lock up and we'll play our game. You should eat---your sugar level must be dropping by now. You know that the faster it drops, the quicker the level’s going to rise---you’re getting too close now to be playing with it.' Agent Mackenzie's words came from a farther distance. He heard a sound he couldn't identify, a smacking sound, like bubble gum being popped. Familiar.

'I need a shot and some food.' Harmony admitted.

'See, a stor? You're going to make yourself sicker this way. You know that we can’t keep you from reaching the level if you don’t work with us on it.' The agent's voice was farther away still. Darien pictured her climbing the stairs slowly, the form-fitting leather of her clothing silent.

'I'll eat. Jonathan won't be here until it's time to close. 'Kay?' He pictured Harmony as she deliberately stepped over the bottom step, as he had seen her do earlier. Her footsteps receded.

‘Fine. I’ll be the one who deals with him this time. I have a few things to say to our friend through his mouthpiece.’ Ciara sounded serious.

When the voices were gone, Hobbes turned and looked at him with his eyes wide. "Boy, I'd say you have your work cut out for you."

"What're you talking about?" Darien screwed the cap back on the now-empty bottle and slid it under his chair, where it rocked for a few moments and stopped.

"Well, I've already guessed that you're going back in. Right?" His partner's mouth twisted. "Right. Not too shabby, kid. You're starting to think like an agent or a detective. You didn't find anything right off the bat in that office and now you wanna know what's upstairs beside dinner and a camera monitor."

Darien shrugged and looked away, momentarily. "I was thinking about it. It seems that maybe there's an answer up there, you know?"

"Good thinking, but I think it's a bad idea." Hobbes slipped the headphones completely off and laid them down. He turned the tapes off and pointed at the pictures that hung above the soundboard. "They are dangerous and our Agent Mackenzie has something planned for tonight. You heard it here first. You won't have to wait to get it from the Official or Eberts or any other office SOB."

Trying to remember the exactly layout of the store, right down to minute details, Darien closed his eyes and pictured the place. He'd always loved books; like Kevin, he'd found new worlds in them, places that were full of adventure and danger, but that were safe...they weren't anything like the situation he was in now.

"If you go back in there, you're gonna be trapped. Even if you can get in the door, you probably won't make it back out before thirty minutes is up. What's gonna happen then? You're gonna come unglued for the second time today. I'm sure that'll be fine with you." Hobbes' sarcasm made him open his eyes and frown.

"Do you have a better idea, Hobbes? If not, let me do what I do best."

"What? Go quicksilver, get yourself saturated with the shit that gland in your head pumps out, and then go psycho in a bookstore's loft?" His partner shook his head and repeated his earlier statement. "No, I think it's a bad idea."

"I don't want to have to do it, but I really think we need more evidence of what Agent Mackenzie's up to." Darien watched as the agent he'd been paired with frowned again, deeper, in thought.

"Let's follow her tonight and see what she's going to do. She's got something planned. We can try to find some other way to get into that upstairs you're so fired up to see." Hobbes looked at the tape recorder he'd turned off and then lifted a finger to it. He set it on auto. If any sound happened in the room, it would click on and record what it picked up and then stop five minutes after the noise stopped.

"I'm starved," Darien stretched in his seat and made a move to stand up. "Can we eat something while we're waiting?"

"We can't take the van. The radius on that thing ain't big. We go out of a six or seven block circumference and we're not gonna get nothing on that tape." Hobbes looked at him. "She said the Jonathan guy was coming at closing time. That's an hour. We can't take the risk of leaving for very long."

"When we came up this street, I think I saw a little place---maybe four or five blocks that way." Darien pointed down the street they'd driven up, coming from a different direction than the one they'd used before. Hobbes' paranoia had paid off again.

"Well, let's walk down and see if we can get a bite and some coffee. Who knows when we'll get a chance to do either this evening?" Hobbes stood up and moved down the van, pushing the door open. The coast was clear. He watched as the shorter agent jumped down from the floor of the van to the asphalt of the street.

"Sounds good." Darien took the bug off his jacket and laid it down on the table beside the headphones. "I'm game. You paying?"

"What do I look like? Did I get a raise when I wasn't looking?" Hobbes' mouth moved in a sour grimace. "Please."

Darien stepped down from the lip of the van's back doors and closed them behind him. "You got the keys this time?"

"Of course." His partner had put his hands in his trouser pockets and now stood, patiently waiting, on the sidewalk. He was jiggling his pockets and the loose change and keys rattled noisily.

"I don't want to come back here and find out that you've locked them in the cab. I'd have to kick your ass this time. " He pushed on the door and looked up the street, searching for anyone who might be watching. You never knew, he understood, who might turn up later.

"Hey, I just forgot, that's all." It came out, half-offended, from Hobbes who rocked back and forth on his heels.

"We got lucky little old grandma had the slim jim, that's all." Darien imitated his partner's tone. It had been very embarrassing. Hobbes had locked the keys in the cab and he himself had found out that he couldn't pick the locks. It had all hinged on the fact that his paranoid partner had wired the locks himself to some small explosive, located inside the door panels.

Real smart thing to do, but it could've been ugly. He'd wondered ever since, if the thing would blow up while they were using the key.

It had been really embarrassing; the explosive had not been too hard to get past, though, when the sweet-faced old woman had showed up and let them use her wire slim jim...he'd been trying to not think about why she might need it. Maybe she locked herself out regularly, too.

The worst part had been that they'd not been able to follow the suspect they'd been after. An afternoon wasted waiting for someone, anyone to help them. It had all been hot, aggravating work sitting on the curb, wanting to strangle Hobbes in frustration and fighting the urge to do so.

They walked down the street, several blocks, and found the diner where he was sure he'd seen it. It looked clean, neat, and decent. Better than they were used to finding on some days and not as nice as what they'd dealt with on others.

Standing in front of it, Hobbes and Darien watched as the waitresses moved back and forth, from the counter.

"Well, I think we're wasting time here, kid." His partner looked at him, an eyebrow lifted in mock disdain. "They look a little too good for the likes of us."

Darien picked up on the joke. "Well, they're the only place close by. What did you expect? The Ritz is no where near here."

Inside, they ordered their food from a friendly woman who wore a grey apron and smelled of apple pie. She was nice and wore a button on the apron that showed a child's picture. The child smiled at the camera and the woman smiled at them, saying that her name was Marie.

"Well, Marie, I need some coffee and a sandwich. How's the chicken salad here?" Hobbes leaned back against the back of the booth, laying an arm out along the plastic.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we're out of chicken salad. How about tuna salad?" Marie seemed honestly apologetic. Darien liked her immediately; she was a happy, normal person in a normal, happy life.

"Tuna's fine." Hobbes smiled back at her and then they both looked at him.

"I'll have the same. Could I get some plain, old regular chips with that?" He couldn't think of anything else. His mind was still full of what he'd seen in the bookstore and wishing he dared to try going invisible to spy the second time today. He knew it wasn't a smart thing to do; it would hurt him and the Keeper probably didn't have any counteragent. It would suck in a big way if he had to be locked in the rubber room.

Marie had smiled broadly at him and showed deep dimples. Now that he looked closer, he took a safe bet that she was nearly forty and so very, very happy. He couldn't help but smile back. Once she'd left to get their food and coffee, he had looked at Hobbes.

"Nice waitress." His partner had a bemused grin on his face. "Do you think she's always so sweet?"

"Yeh, I do." Darien couldn't help but watch the subtle expression change in his partner's eyes.

"She's probably nasty-tempered and is just having a good day." Hobbes' made his observation and then looked around the place. "We ought to call the office and tell them what's going on."

"Go for it. I'm gonna sit here and take it easy for a few minutes."

Hobbes rose and went to the payphone he'd spotted in the back, near the restrooms. Watching his partner's back, Darien began to think about how he could get into the bookstore again, to get upstairs. What could he possibly do besides go invisible?

His partner had a good point, but he still felt the urge to pull a little slip and get back there, to try his idea out. Fighting the thought off, he smiled at Marie, who had returned with their coffee now, bringing ice water as well.

From behind the counter, he could hear a radio playing some old tune---maybe "You Belong To Me"--- the voice certainly sounded like Dean Martin. It fit the moment the quiet, old-fashioned diner and it made him think of his brother again…Kevin had always loved that song.

Where had his life really taken its biggest turn? He doubted he'd ever remember. Darien watched as his partner walked back to the booth and scooted in.

It was going to be a long evening, following the ex-agent to what ever destination she had in mind.

"Eberts told me to tell you that the Official said that whatever is necessary for this assignment, kid, we got it. Not that there's much they're offering."

"We'll make do, like always." Darien lifted the bone-white cup and blew on his coffee.

"See, you're getting the picture." Hobbes grinned again and used a spoon to take ice from the water glass in front of him to the coffee cup. "I knew you couldn't possibly be as crazy as you seem. I thought for damned sure I'd come back here and find out you'd given me the slip and gone invisible. I was counting on it."

Darien grinned back, over his coffee, hearing the joke in his partner's voice. Lately, they'd been getting along just a little better. He thought it might be the lithium levels in Hobbes' blood stream, getting regulated.

"Who me? Would I do something like that to you?"

@@@

Chapter Nine:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

A somewhat-famous songwriter once sang: "And the spirit that breaks free from the cage is the one they cannot kill."

Now maybe this guy knew what he was talking about or maybe it was all a case of perspective.

When we started working together as regular partners, Hobbes told me that nothing about this life was simple; not the blood, not the guilt, and not the pain. At the time, I didn't get it. I mean, I understood what he said, but I had nothing to base any kind of comparison on. What did any of it mean anyway? One man's opinion, that's all.

What I was learning now was that Hobbes' experiences made him a smarter man, if no calmer. How was I to supposed to guess that this assignment, like Charlie Fogerty's case---like Maggie Celo’s case---had been given to us because of what I'd become, because of who I was? Somehow, trouble always follows me home and this time, the trail was definitely familiar.

I was finding out that there was much more to the picture than what met the eye. Much, much more...like what didn't meet the eye. It's the ones you don't see coming that kick the shit out of you.

@@@

Back in the van's anterior, Darien shuffled the cards like a shark, using his long, talented fingers to twist the deck sideways and flip the cards into three piles on the palm of his hand. All the cards were face down. He folded his hand and the cards came together and he dealt a hand of double solitaire.

Across from him, with his back to the soundboard, Hobbes sat. The younger agent had forgotten already how they'd become able to work together without trying to slice each other up. Months of dealing hands of double solitaire on stake-outs could have had something to do with it.

The speaker to the bug Darien had planted was turned on. The tape was still set to automatic and now they waited for something, anything to happen.

Jonathan, who ever he was, showed up. The wheels on the tape recorder had turned and caught the conversation that went on in the office. The two agents had listened, holding their breath, to the exchange that went on between Ciara Mackenzie and the unseen, unknown man.

"Here is the disk." Leather creaked in the background and Hobbes raised an eyebrow at Darien.

"Have disk will travel." Darien mused quietly as he flipped another card over.

"Where is your charming young partner, Miss Mackenzie? Is she unwell today?" The voice was cultured, low, and accented.

Darien brought another card to the surface of the game and then looked up to the sound of the anger-edged words that the AWOL agent used as a blade.

"Your boss is a foolish man. Playing with me is going to get him popped and I know how my employers would love to get their hands on his ass."

"If he goes down, so do you and you know it. This disk contains vital information to his plans and he will use it as he sees fit." Jonathan, who ever he was, remained calm. "His motives aren't to be questioned. You, on the other hand, are only a pawn in this game."

"I won't give her up to him. Ever. Tell him that." Her words were like a razorblade, cold and dangerously sharp.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about your precious girlfriend, Miss Mackenzie. She is inconsequential now. My employer knows that she is too unstable for what he wants to accomplish. All he wants is the information she can provide for him." Never rising in pitch or tone, the mysterious Jonathan sounded like a lawyer.

Darien wished that he could have placed a camera in the office. The voice was familiar to him, though he couldn't place it.

"Killing agents is all he is accomplishing, you know. Does he really think that the government won't find out him? They have already placed dogs on my trail." There was no real speculation in the woman's voice.

"Soon, it will not matter. This disk will nearly complete the circuit of information my employer seeks. Then, you will get what you ask for. In the meantime..."

There was the sound of a lock opening. Darien knew the sound. A briefcase had been set on the desk and something was drawn out.

"Miss Mackenzie, it is known that you went to those agents before our operatives dealt with them. Are you warning them or saying goodbye?" Jonathan's smug tones became threatening. "If our mutual friend chooses, he has the option of with-holding his end of the promise because of your interference. You are only to provide him with the information, not get a conscience and go to those agents and shut them up before our men can question them."

"I do what I need to do. Your employer knows this---he may not like what I do, but he also knows that if he still wants that information that Neon Blue can give him, he'll forgive the indiscretion of me shutting those agents up." Agent Mackenzie's voice changed subtly. Darien pictured her standing with her arms folded across her chest with cold-blooded murder in her face.

"But Neon Blue refuses to give him the one piece of information he seeks. Why is that? Is she getting a conscience? He is growing weary of the games she---and you---plays and he speaks of stopping all payment until he gets the rest of the data on the project. What will happen to your little friend, then, when her body has learned how to tolerate the pathetic drugs you've managed to get ahold of? What my employer holds will make these other drugs obsolete; it will stop the process of imbalance in Neon Blue for at least months at a time."

Jonathan's voice, hostile now, went on and the two agents listened closely, each trying to memorize what was said in the office they couldn't see. "He pays excellent money for your cooperation and you can't even keep a leash on the little bitch---"

A sudden bang and a flurry of movement roared over the speakers of the soundboard. Two bodies hit the concrete not very far from the bug's position. Darien and Hobbes looked at each other, eyes wide, as some act of violence was committed.

There came the sound of a deep breath being drawn, ragged and tortured, into lungs that no longer could get air. This body, with its harsh breathing, was so close to the bug that surely it was visible. Whoever it was that was painfully breathing had to be under the desk.

A meaty sound, like head of lettuce being torn in half, made Darien cringe. What the hell was going on in there?

"Harmony---stop! You'll kill him!" Ciara Mackenzie barked, angry. There was another sound, then, and Hobbes stared at the speaker in horror.

Darien could feel his skin crawl into goosebumps with the chuckle that played in doubled feedback, sounding like metal grating against metal, or two identical voices bubbling their laughter through blood.

"Oh, my god, my hand!" Jonathan howled in hellish pain. "Look what she did to my fucking hand!"

Harmony Corwin, who'd been in the office, silent until then, had hurt the man, causing him to lose his professional edge.

"I don't like threats. Go back and tell the asshole that." Her voice sounded different, as if she spoke through a mouthful of food. Darien stared at the speaker, his blood racing like ice through his veins, hearing the terrible sound of that voice go on.

"Next time, it will be him. I'll give him something to remember me by. His heart on a plate a la steak tartar. Get me?"

Movement in the office, muffled, came and then the sound of the briefcase closing. There was a whimper of pain and then Jonathan's tone raised again, as he tried to spit the words out.

"He won't stand for this. My employer will make you----"

"He's over the damned barrel, too. You're a toad, Jonathan. Your boss will see it as the warning it is. Now, get the fuck out of this store before I let her do more, with feeling." Ciara Mackenzie, somewhere in the office, ground the words out harshly.

She was under stress, it was obvious from her voice, to stop Harmony Corwin from doing something worse. Darien Fawkes looked down at the game of cards that had been forgotten. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd just heard someone get their hand broken, brutally, and maybe mangled.

The mild, sweet-faced young woman had done something to the threatening lackey. He had not heard her in the office---why had this man Jonathan said the vicious, threatening words if he knew he was in the room with a dangerous killer?

"Don't bleed on my carpet on your way out, motherfucker." The words came, laced with that same grinding, metallic sound that had changed the sound of the young woman's normally pleasant voice into something from a nightmare.

And there was no doubt, if his ears hadn't deceived him, that Harmony Corwin, a.k.a. Neon Blue, had just proved herself to be a serious danger to anyone who crossed her.

The sound of the door slamming in the distance crackled over the speakers and then there was the sound of a groan and leather shifting. Agent Mackenzie came closer to the hidden microphone.

"I don't want to see that again, do you understand? You have better control than that."

Harmony Corwin's laughter spilled, softer now, but still tinged in coppery, metallic tones, and the two men could hear her drawing closer to the desk. "I can't let him think he's frightening me. You’re right, it's a mistake to deal with them. I'm doing this for you and you're doing it for me and we're getting fucked in the bargain...what a joke."

"We'll do what we have to do, a stor, and you need your shot. Let's go upstairs and clean you up. No, leave the money, little one. We should try to play the game and see if we can take you down another level."

The sound of the two women climbing the stairs receded. Hobbes drew a long breath and let out a low, surprised whistle. "I knew that she was gonna be a threat, but----"

"Kill her if she becomes dangerous to you." Darien shook his head and met his partner's eyes. "That was what the Official said---I had no idea."

"And think, kid, you sat right beside her and thought she was too good to commit murder." Hobbes' eyes narrowed. "Neon Blue sounds familiar. I just can't place it. Like I read it, written down somewhere."

Looking at the cards again, mometarily, Darien glanced at his partner and shook his head. "I never heard it until the boss said it was the handle the hacker was using. Not a very good hacker, either---she left tracks everywhere."

"You can bet that the tracks that were found were on purpose, Fawkes. I get a feeling about that. I am beginning to get a cute little picture in my head of what might be going down here..." The older agent's face darkened. "It's looking like she's handing the information over against her will, like they've got something on her."

"Or withholding something from her." Darien nodded. He'd sensed the same thing, from the things Jonathan said just before Harmony had jumped him.

"We may have stumbled onto something larger---some conspiracy." Folding his arms across his chest, Hobbes leaned back on the stool and turned his head to see the two women's pictures. "I wonder who knows and who is involved."

"Do you think Agent Mackenzie is killing those other agents to shut them up before they can be questioned?" Darien turned another card and placed it, his mind no longer really on the game they'd been playing. "It sounded like this is something that neither of them want to be involved in."

"There has to be more to the picture, see? Neon Blue, Harmony, what ever you want to call her, is hacking information and leaving traces of her identity along the way---not exactly the mark of a great hacker, though her file says she is one of the slickest kids who ever drew breath. Agent Mackenzie is going to see these agents just before the safe houses are being blown off the map. Privileged information is being sold here, hotshot, and she's sitting on something that she doesn't want the other guys to get their hands on." Hobbes stopped talking and looked at Darien, eyes wide.

"You think she's trying to not betray the Agency?" Darien finished the line of thought. "Then, why are we watching them? If they're the good guys, then we have the wrong lead here."

"No, she's doing some serious shit here, hacking those files. They're being used to kill government agents who were involved in that ten-year-old case. I think our buddy, Mackenzie, may be killing those agents herself, to shut them up." Hobbes' eyes narrowed in thought. "If they had information valuable to this 'employer', then it would be feasible that she'd want to stop them from squealing."

"You're losing me here, Hobbes. You're talking in generalities. She could be killing them for revenge---or she might not be really killing them at all." Darien watched as his partner sat forward and flipped a card on his side of the board.

Hobbes shrugged and gave a sideways, uneven smile. His voice held distaste for the words. "If these people are good at the information gathering part of their jobs, it takes nothing to make even a field-toughened agent sing. She could be killing those agents before they can be 'convinced' to talk."

"Hobbes, that would mean that she's trying to keep trouble off of the Agency and maybe the Feds. If that's true----"

He was interrupted by the sound of a foot hitting the bottom step in the office. The sound, coming so close to Hobbes, through the speaker, made the two agents jump. Hobbes, startled, grabbed at the gun he wore. The two men stared at the soundboard's tape as it clicked on again, recording the noise that now had them on the edges of their seats, poised for action.

A phone was dialed; the sound of the buttons being pressed were little chirps. Darien knew, from the fact that the badly warped board had been stepped on, that it had to be Ciara Mackenzie who now stood in the office, making a phone call.

"It’s time---she can’t hold off any more, fearcha. Is it ready yet?" Her slightly accented voice clipped the words off short. Agent Mackenzie was silent then, and the two men waited, growing impatient.

"I'll be there in a few minutes. You'll make sure I can get in?" More silence and then--- "Good. Leave the doors open."

The phone was set back in it's cradle with an audible click.

"She's going now..." Darien whispered. Hobbes nodded, his eyes on the speaker, with his mouth tightened in thought.

They heard Ciara Mackenzie as she left the office. Hobbes jumped up fast and pushed the door open to the cab of the van. Darien stood up, leaving the cards where they were at, and followed, flinging his long frame down into the passenger seat.

"Come on, you piece of dog shit, start." His partner growled at the engine as he worked the key, trying to get a response from the stubborn alternator.

It finally turned over and started, backfiring through the carburetor. Darien mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that the gas fumes wouldn't ignite the wrong way and leave them stranded here. The other things, much worse than just a ruined engine, he worked on not thinking about. The plastique explosive was still in the door panels and it wouldn't take much to set it off---just a small fire in the motor.

Pulling up to the curb, Hobbes seemed to come alive with nervous impulses. He was electrified, excited, and his partner could see the gleam of the emotion that lingered; Hobbes lived for these moments of the chase.

They could see the motorcycle from where they sat, idling, as it roared to life and pulled away from the storefront. Waiting until it had passed two blocks and was ready to turn, the two agents followed at a safe distance.

Darien thought about what he'd heard; it seemed on one hand that his instincts about Harmony were correct---she wasn't a bad person, just caught in a bad position. The ones she'd been selling information to were withholding things she needed or wanted.

On the other hand, he'd just heard her do something violent to a man in her office. She'd drawn great pleasure from the act. She seemed to be the killer that the Agency's headman believed her capable of. He'd not believed that she was able to con him so completely, but she already had and it was disturbing to think about. Darien chided himself for getting soft. She'd not fool him twice.

Through town, they followed her from several blocks behind. It was already getting dusky outside and this lent to not being noticed by the suspicious agent who rode her black Harley towards some mysterious meeting. It was only ten minutes and they found themselves pulling into a very familiar place in town. The motorcycle parked at the back of the Federal Annex building where the Department of Fish and Game had their local offices.

Turning the wheel, Hobbes went on a block and a half and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. Watching through the side windows, they saw her long leg swing over and off the bike. She moved fast, her strides carrying her around the corner.

"We have to go in." Darien opened the door and got out. "Come on."

"Fawkes, she could catch us in there---" Hobbes was already checking his gun and taking the keys out of the ignition switch.

"We have to know why she's here, Hobbes---come on." He itched to hurry, to find out where in the large building she could be going. On the second and fourth floor, no doubt, she could find anything she wanted.

His partner was already getting out of the van, scanning the area with his sharp eyes. "Alright, kid, keep it together."

Together, they jogged down to the corner of the federal building. Darien's shirt, under the leather jacket he wore, flapped against his ribs as he tried to push himself faster. Peeking around the corner, Hobbes motioned him on. They hurried down to the glass doors on the front side and looked in. The security guard was sitting still, his eyes closed, at his desk.

Pulling on the handle, Hobbes led the way in.

Stopping at the guard's desk, he peered down into the face of the man responsible for keeping watch at night. Darien moved through the front hall, looking for the woman they'd followed.

"He's sleeping." It was a whisper.

Spotting the elevator lights, Darien motioned to Hobbes to come down the hall. He pointed at the steadily moving monitor that indicated the elevator was in use, headed down. Already, it had reached the second basement level and kept going.

"She's going down to the records department on the fourth---she has to be." The shorter agent frowned, his eyes still on the amber elevator light.

"Well, let's catch her little meeting, then." Darien pushed the down button on the second elevator and it slid open with a sigh.

Getting on the elevator, Hobbes pressed the fourth basement button. The doors shut and the elevator hummed as it headed downwards.

"Hope you're right, my friend, or we're gonna lose her."

The elevator stopped on the fourth basement level and slid open. The records department was silent, still, and darkened. There was no one there. Hobbes had drawn his gun and was moving down the short hallway, looking at the doors. Behind them, the other elevator hummed and kept moving.

"Come on---" Instead of moving back to the elevator, Darien dashed to the stairwell that was at the end of the hall, closer to where they'd walked.

Going downwards, they were silent, breathing the cold air-conditioned sterility of the building's emptiness. Reaching the fifth level in only a few moments, Hobbes stood on tiptoe to peek through the glass of the door that led to the hallway where the labs were located. His gun was held tensely in a hand that was prepared to fire, if necessary.

Looking over his partner's head, Darien watched as the woman in black leather walked down the hall to the lab where he'd spent many unpleasant hours. The door was open there and he could see, barely, from his place at the stairwell window, a fish tank with the faint green glow of light reflecting through it.

He had to get closer. Now. He had to know why the AWOL agent was here, seeing his Keeper.

He quickened his heartbeat with a thought and the cold quicksilver ran from him, coating him. Darien went invisible.

"Fawkes, no---don't!" It was a loud whisper. Hobbes' eyes searched for him, frantic. "You're gonna get caught!"

"Stay here. I'll go in and see what the hell she's up to." Darien opened the door and slipped through it. Moving fast, he reached the open door of the laboratory and dodged inside, against the wall. Creeping as quietly as he could, he made his way along the floor, staying as close as he could to the back of the large room.

The Keeper entered and then he realized that the cold nature he'd been shown by her was a mirror to the one that Ciara Mackenzie seemed to have. They were two peas in a pod, standing face-to-face---so very different in looks, but so very similar in attitude.

Darien breathed as silently as he could and listened, watching with amazement as the Keeper, after greeting her guest, moved to the refrigeration unit where the counteragent, food, and other things were kept cold. She opened it and removed something from the very back.

It was a small vial, only an inch in length. The stopper on it was rubber, made to allow a needle through. Within it's glass, it held a white liquid that looked like milk.

He watched as the mysterious agent withdrew a longer vial from the front of her dark suit coat. It was dark, red, and nearly four inches full of blood. Darien, trying to concentrate on what was being done, wondered how she had managed to hide it on her person.

She set the tube of blood down on the metal table that sat beside the chair where he'd woken earlier in the day, strapped down. It made no sound. A long, slim envelope that was produced by the mannish-looking woman followed it. She slid it out of her jacket, as well. Darien, from where he stood, silent, knew a pay off when he saw one.

The Keeper looked at it and then glanced at Ciara Mackenzie, handing the tiny vial of opaque serum to her. "I need more information on what is happening with her. Blood alone is not going to show me the complete metabolic changes. Is she showing more symptoms of tolerance levels rising?"

"Yes. She's been getting worse the last few days. It's starting to look like she's going to need more than four shots a cycle. How fast can you get some more ready?" The ex-agent's face was nearly blank; the only emotion he could see in her face was concern that stayed in her eyes.

"If you could get her to come back here, I could run some more tests and see if there's a variable we're missing. Maybe with an added inhibitor, we could maintain a better balance." His Keeper picked up the vial of blood and took it to another table.

He saw her smear some of it on a slide and slip it under the lens of her microscope.

"It's not accelerated, so it must be her immune system working with the NE-hormone to cause the saturation to build faster. See?" The Keeper, in her lab coat, stepped from the microscope and Ciara Mackenzie took her place, brushing a long strand of her honey colored hair away from her eyes as she bent her face to the lit slide.

"I see that---I just wish he was here to help us with this. It's not glowing any brighter than before, but if it's her cellular immune system, how can we stop the tolerance levels from rising without compromising her health? She’s getting sicker, Claire." She didn't look up from the specimen.

"Maybe, if you can get her here, I can run an on-the-spot test on her hormones. If I can figure out how her body is breaking down the serum on the molecular level, maybe I can find the right inhibitor to add to it. We could slow down her metabolism and this will help slow the breakdown speed." The Keeper held the vial of blood up to the lamp on the table and peered into it, as if she could see the missing piece of the puzzle this way. Her voice was only slightly lower when she spoke again, still looking into the vial.

"I've been studying on how to use a certain inhibiting chemical in a counteragent I'm making right now. If it works for that serum, then it might also work for the NE-hormone, replacing the component I can’t synthesize here. How are the exercises helping her?"

"She's doing the exercises, but they only help with the psychological changes. She has become violent again." Ciara Mackenzie looked up then and he could see the darkness in her eyes. "I really should get back to her now. I don't dare leave her alone for very long. She was calm when I left, but I can't be sure---"

Darien watched as the tall, lanky woman moved across the floor, headed towards him. He felt his heart race with the fear of being found. Calming himself, he followed her out the door. He didn't look back to see what his Keeper was doing. He believed she was probably bent over the mysterious blood sample with its high level of something called NE-hormone.

He hurried back to the stairwell and waited until the elevator doors had shut before he opened the door. Hobbes nearly fell forward on him. His partner had been peering through the wired glass, trying to see something.

Once inside the stairwell, Darien shook himself free of the quicksilver. His skin tingled where the sensation remained, drying his skin out with the exposure.

"What the hell happened in there?" Hobbes' whispered shout was loud in the quietness.

Darien shivered and a lance of painful feedback went through him, making him nauseous. "We gotta go. Now." He straightened up and began the climb up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His partner followed, still whispering questions.

They followed the same pattern, taking the stairs only to the next floor and then riding the elevator to the surface. He was having trouble already; the build-up in his blood had accelerated and he would have to have a shot, which probably wasn't available. He was screwed, he knew, but they had no time to consider what was going to happen if he went over the edge now.

Reaching the lobby, they saw her as she left the building, headed around the corner. Hurrying, they followed, as quiet as they could. Passing the security guard, Darien shook his head. A federal building and the guard was asleep at the wheel. It figured.

Outside, they made their way to the van, under the cover of darkness. They saw the AWOL agent fire her Harley up and pull out.

Flinging the door open on the passenger side, Darien hustled to get in.

"Now, you wanna tell me the fuck happened in there that's got you rattled?" Hobbes turned the engine over and pulled out, accelerating as he took the corner.

"You know a short cut to her place?" Darien's head was pounding and his heart couldn't slow down. He swallowed the dry, sour taste in his mouth at the memory of his Keeper selling a chemical compound to the suspect he was chasing. What was going on? Was the serum in the vial meant for Harmony Corwin, who was obviously unbalanced in some way?

"Yeh...smart thinking to get there before she does." Hobbes swung the wheel sharp and took another street.

@@@

Chapter Ten:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

They say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Well, if that is true, then I'm so damned. I had gone to the lab, following an agent who didn't seem to age. Her name was Ciara Mackenzie and what I started finding out right there made me wish in a way for blissful ignorance.

See, I love knowing things, but there are certain things that, if found out, would make life unbearable. Kinda like if you thought your parents were head over heels in love and then you find, through total innocence, that your mom hated your dad's gut, cheated on him, and wished him dead. You were better off without that news, right? And you really didn't want to find out first hand....I thought working for the Agency was unbearable. I was finding out how very screwed I was, now. It's not the width of the conspiracy that counted, but the depth.

Following the mysterious Ciara Mackenzie had brought me home, to my haven in the labs. And, in the labs, I found out that this rabbit hole went a lot deeper than I would've imagined in a million years. But, exactly what was the Keeper doing? How was she aiding the suspects I was watching? Did she know that these were the people suspected of killing agents of the federal government?

All I knew, when I left the labs, were three things for sure: One, I had to find out where all this led to, even if it meant going quicksilver again and somehow managing to get into the apartment over the book store. Two, I had to be able to get into that apartment and manage to get back out before going insane from the build-up in my blood. Three, I would most likely need another shot---and it hadn't even been a day since my last one.

All I could hope for, as I looked at the monitor on my wrist, was that the Keeper would give me a booster and not ask too many questions...unless she was ready to answer a few of mine. And I had lots of questions now.

@@@

He could see, from the monitor tattoo, that he had pushed the limits on the quicksilver. Darien groaned softly as he turned the van's cab light off and let his sleeve cover the wrist again. He was in so much trouble; chances were excellent that he'd be making another trip to the labs and it would be before midnight.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there that has you spooked?"

Hobbes glanced at him and then back at the street that they were racing down. They passed the diner where they'd had dinner; it was closed, as was all the businesses all down the street. No one around and that was a blessing---less witnesses were always good.

"Man, if I told you, it'd have to be between us until I find out what's going on. You okay with not telling the boss man?"

His partner shot him another look and frowned. "Need to know? That bad, huh? What the hell was she doing in that lab, Fawkes?"

Darien stared out at the street as they approached the block where they'd been parked earlier in the evening, listening to the bug under the desk. He licked his lips and tried to put it short and sweet.

"My Keeper is helping them somehow. I don't know how yet for sure and until I find out what is going on, I want you to keep it to yourself."

When he looked at Hobbes, he saw the anger in the man's eyes.

"You mean that cold fish is helping these two kill government agents? What kind of help, kid?"

"Well, I don't know that yet, do I? I don't think she knows about the assignment, so that's good---she doesn't know we're here watching." Darien gave a sigh of relief when they pulled up to the curb on the block directly beside the book store. What he had to do wasn't going to be easy and he prayed like hell that he could be back out in less than thirty minutes.

"What did they talk about in the lab, my friend?" Hobbes swung the van around to sit directly behind the store, in an alley.

"Harmony Corwin, I think. Look, I need you to listen and keep an eye out for me. You hear anything that sounds like people dying in there and you get to a payphone and call my Keeper immediately and tell her where we are. Understand?" He remembered having put the bug back on his jacket when they'd come back from dinner. It would come in handy again, here.

"Fawkes, what're you----aww, hell, man. Would you stop doing that shit to me?"

Darien became one with the air. Invisible, he slipped out the now-open door of the van and down the side of the bookstore. Looking up, he walked fast. There had to be another way in besides the front and back doors.

Between the two buildings on either side of him, the sidewalk was broken, uneven, and grass grew in the lumpy cracks.

Above him, only a foot over his head, there was a fire escape. It went up the book store and ended in a small landing at a window. Lace fluttered there and he grinned to himself. Once a thief, always a thief. He'd just go in and out that way.

A second story job was something he'd never figured on having to do again, once he'd taken up with the Agency, but he was discovering that nothing was as it seemed on any corner he'd turned so far. At least, this time, all he was after was some information.

Jumping, he caught the end of the fire escape ladder, pulling it down gently and slow. He began to move up it as fast as he could, fighting the waves of quicksilver madness that threatened to devour him, tooth and claw. The feedback was getting worse; he was getting closer to losing it and he didn't need a monitor to tell him that probably within two hours, he'd be either dead or have killed someone.

At the top, Darien peeked in the open window. Ciara's bike was in his ears. She'd arrived at the store now. They'd only beat her by minutes, but he still had time to get into a position to see and hear what went on in the room.

Nowhere could he see Harmony Corwin. He found himself very curious to see if she was looking any different. He couldn't quite fit the picture of her in his mind with what he'd heard her do, over a speaker, only a couple of hours before.

The bed sat next to the window, to the right of him. He could see several lamps turned on, lending some pale, yellowish light to the large studio apartment. Looking around, he could see that the place was nice, in a bohemian way.

She was nowhere to be seen. As he looked in the window, he watched as Ciara Mackenzie appeared at the top of the stairs directly across from him. She rounded the banister there and stopped, taking a good look.

Through the window, he could smell a scent that turned his stomach. Blood. It wasn't very strong, but it was enough to make him turn his head away for a brief moment to get some fresh air.

"Harmony?" The accented voice of the ex-agent brought him back to where he was. She'd moved to stand in front of a closed door, where a light shone white at the bottom.

With her back turned to him, he slipped in the window, still invisible, and moved to stand beside the curtains of another window. He knew where he was now; at the front side of the building, over the street. Darien saw the motorcycle parked below.

There was no answer from Harmony.

"A stor, I want you to come out of the bathroom. Can you still do that?" He watched from his point in the shadows as the beautiful woman in the black suit lowered her head against the wood frame of the closed bathroom door.

Her hair, as he could see it in the scant light, was pulled back. Flat against the door, she spoke again.

"Please, come out. I've brought your shot."

"No shots. No more." Harmony's voice was stifled, but Darien could hear the same, metallic grind coming from the vocal cords that stayed locked away in the bathroom. "Blood money bought that stuff, Ciara. Cause he’s gone, I gotta put up with this crap. No more. Fuck it. I don't want a shot this time."

Ciara Mackenzie's voice came, seemingly having been silent now for centuries. "You're gonna kill yourself that way."

"Good. I’ll get to see him again. That’s all I want." The husky voice was broken, full of unspoken whispers and shouts. "You'll get everything, I promise."

"Come out, Harmony. You’re losing blood, now." The scent was strong in his lungs and now he had an idea of who it belonged to. She bled? How much blood could she lose and still be able to come out of the bathroom on her own two feet? What had she done to herself to bleed so much?

Silence.

"Do I have to break the door down or are you coming out? Remember who I am?"

Darien mentally counted the minutes. He was running out of time.

"You're my fucking Keeper." The door between the two women opened wide enough for Harmony's head to come through.

From across the room, he saw her face. He saw the tears that streaked the pale skin and reddened the flesh around her eyes. There was fear in her face and he realized how small she really was, even though she wasn’t short. The top of her head only came to the ex-agent's nose; despite what he'd heard and seen, she was just barely out of her teens.

Right now, she looked as about dangerous as the throw pillows on the couch. Ciara Mackenzie was her Keeper?

"I can't control it anymore. I tried and I can't." She coughed raggedly. Her nose was red from crying and her eyes were bloodshot, though he recognized the look on her face. It was a desperation that he often saw in the mirror. Her eyes were so red that they seemed like giant holes in her face; she had the madness, in some form.

She sniffled, like a little kid, and let the much taller woman push the door open all the way.

"Take deep breaths and let them out slowly, think of what you love the best. Think of him. Remember that anger brings the darkness." Ciara Mackenzie laid her arm around the young woman's shoulder and her voice was very soothing, like a mother's. "The smell in here...forget that it exists."

"I don't want to play the game, Ciara..."

Turning her physically, the female agent began walking the weak-kneed Harmony Corwin towards the couch. Her eyes were full of strong compassion as she put her mouth against the smaller woman's face and kissed her skin, repeatedly, as she spoke.

Darien wondered how anyone could live in that smell...it was the odor of warm blood spilled. He looked around and tried to find where the horrible scent could be coming from---from what he could tell, Harmony wasn't bleeding. There was no blood anywhere, but that hot, coppery smell still stayed.

The agent cradled the young storeowner close and steadily made for the sofa. Once there, Ciara Mackenzie sat down, still holding Harmony in her arms. She tilted the delicate face upwards and planted a kiss on her mouth that was chastely loving.

"Let's play the game, little one."

"I don't want to play the games. They're not helping anymore. I can't get in and slow it down." She was a very pale, frightened version of the self-assured, professional woman he'd talked to earlier, while ordering the book. "I’m gonna die this time…it’s okay, though. I don’t mind. It’s what I want."

"Just stay calm." Ciara Mackenzie said it so low, her lips pressed directly into Harmony's hair, that Darien had to force his concentration to hear the words; it was a whisper spoken for the ear of the young woman.

"I don't want the damned shot, Ciara. It's only holding off the obvious." The red-black eyes flashed dangerously hot with the words as she clenched her hands into fists. "I've done it before."

"She asked me to bring you in for some tests that might help her improve the serum." The ex-agent's voice was still soft, but he could make out the words now that she'd moved her mouth. She no longer kissed or cuddled the young woman.

"It's so cold in here. Is the air on?" He watched, still invisible, as Harmony shivered violently in the hands of the woman who was caring for her. She was sweating profusely.

"No...it’s only the hormone level making your blood pressure drop." Ciara Mackenzie was very calm as she reached to the end table and picked up a syringe that had a cap on it.

Just then, Darien felt something crawl across his hand, where it lay against the curtain. He looked quickly and then did a double take. He let out an instinctive yelp and stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance as he slapped at the tiny insect.

He managed to get the spider off of him and as he looked up, he realized that he'd made a sound, a movement.

Both women had their eyes trained on him, in his unseen state. Holding his breath and starting to edge back towards the window, he saw the hatred flare up in Harmony's face, making her look demonic in that last moment.

Before he could reach the window with it's margin of safety, Harmony disappeared. One moment, she was there and the next, she was gone.

Darien Fawkes blinked and made a run for the window. He didn't get there. As he started around the bed that sat in the way, he was hit by something muscular, hard, and invisible.

Hitting the ground, rolling towards the sofa, he let the quicksilver slip off of his skin and melt to nothing. Darien grunted as the weight of Harmony came down on his chest. And as the hands went around his throat, he realized that he was slipping; the madness was coming fast...too fast.

He wasn't going to get out of this building without losing his mind. In that condition, Hobbes probably wouldn't be able to get him back to the lab and the saving sting of the needle in his arm.

She was beating his head into the floor. She wasn't as big or strong as him, but she had him so firmly that he couldn't dislodge her at first.

"Stop, Harmony! Now!" Ciara Mackenzie's words were frantic, her voice a leonine roar. She'd laid the vial down on the table beside the syringe and alcohol rub.

The hands around his throat only tightened and he found out what the laughter sounded like, up close. He couldn't see her, but she began to let that metallic sound roll through her, as she laughed. Just when he was ready to black out, he lost his mental grip on the monster in his head.

An animal sound came from her invisible throat. Darien managed to get his hands free and he pushed, furious, at the body that had straddled him. She fell backwards, hitting the arm of the sofa. Still invisible, she hit hard on the couch and she laughed at him, the sound of blood bubbling in her throat.

It was malicious and dark. Darien gasped for breath and sat up, moving his eyes with the laughter, trying to pin point her exact location. She was moving again, still making that horrible, mind-bending sound in her throat.

The female agent stepped between them, picked Darien up by his jacket, and held him tightly.

"I know you. You're the guy who ordered the book today. Mister Kevin Roberts…" Her voice was bitter cold ice; the only warmth was the feeling of her hands against his shirt, letting off her body heat against him. "You picked a hell of a night to pay a social call like this, kid. Harmony's not feeling like herself."

"I'd say that it was pretty abnormal." Darien managed to get his breath and he searched the room once more.

"Oh, I'm alright now." Harmony's voice was laced with the madness that he felt coursing through his veins at the same time. He struggled against the hold that Ciara Mackenzie had on him.

Harmony was closer, now, standing so very near. He could feel a strange heat coming from the same direction as her hoarse voice. "It's not cold anymore."

He hoped like hell that Hobbes was listening and was now going for help or calling for help or something. Darien's head felt like a cannon ball had just run through it. I t rang and buzzed with the repeated slammings into the floor.

He could hear Harmony as she drew even closer, still invisible. "I'm gonna feed him his heart first and then his soul."

The way she said it made him remember what she'd done to the mysterious visitor, Jonathan, earlier. He'd no idea how far she would go, but if she was suffering from a cortical breakdown, then she was too far gone into her mind to be reasoned with.

That was fine with him, now. He surrendered in the grasp of Ciara Mackenzie. Darien felt the quicksilver build-up reach critical mass; any moment now, he'd be like her, nothing but a walking Id.

"Awww...now why would you want to do a thing like that?" He slipped out from under the hands that held him. His voice had gone husky and low-slung. The madness howled inside.

"You're in my space, asshole." It was as cold as his skin had been feeling. She slipped into sight, as if water ran over her, taking the chemical from her skin. Just as she became visible, she launched herself at him, teeth bared and murder in her madness-darkened eyes.

The taller woman, moving sideways, threw her hands up and knocked the rushing Harmony backwards. The girl hit the floor again, rolled, and came up as if she were made of rubber. She hissed angrily at her Keeper.

"Stay still, dammit." Ciara Mackenzie's voice was like steel as she spoke to them both. She moved around the couch then and took up the syringe.

Looking at him, she drew off about half the vial with the sharp, shining needle. "You're more than an agent. You seem to be one of the Agency's play things." It was not a question and he glowered at her, wanting to wipe the calm look off her face. "Who do you belong to?"

He didn't answer. The blood rushing through him flushed his face. He stared from her to Harmony, who crouched on the floor like a feral animal, ready to pounce on him. There was a sound coming from her throat that was not friendly. Just before she twisted her face into a knot, Ciara Mackenzie slipped up behind her, silent, and put the milky-looking needle into her skin, between her shoulder and neck.

Immediately, the response was dramatic. The girl slumped, losing the edge of tension she'd been holding.

He watched as Harmony Corwin lay on her side on the floor, shivering, her arms wrapped around her ribs, as if she were trying to keep a grip on herself. Fear and anger warred on her pale, frozen face.

The tall, coldly enraged woman moved once more, towards him. Darien went on the defensive, preparing to strike out at her, to prevent her from getting her hands on him again.

"Can you stand still or do I have to break your head?" Her words were aimed at him. Darien Fawkes nodded, wanting more than anything to get out of the apartment, to get back to the labs and get a shot. Hobbes would take him there and help him get himself fixed.

Ciara Mackenzie stepped to his side and stared at him for a few moments with her pale eyes. "Imagine. Two creatures from the same menagerie right here with me. It would seem that there’s more than just one gland."

Behind her, on the floor, rocked Harmony. She still hugged herself and the sounds she made were pitiful, gasping for breath that didn’t seem to come so easily. She was deadly, but as she opened her eyes and looked upwards, he could see that she was mostly herself again. Her long hair was a cradle for her head as she moved back and forth, staring at him.

He wasn't going to be able to hold it much longer. He'd nearly lost it already; it had come out in defense of his body. Darien raised his hand and looked at the tattoo. It was drawing close to being completely red.

"Call my Keeper. I need---" The pain went all over him then, making him stumble over the words. Was his eyes as red as hers had been?

"You're the one Claire spoke of." The statement was so mild that he wanted to laugh at the sheer stupidity of it.

"Call her and tell her---"

"You get nothing until you tell me why you're here." Her accented voice was deadly serious and abrupt. He could see, through eyes that were already tinging red.

"I won't tell you until you call my Keeper." He stood, uneasily, on his feet and tried to stay calm, to breathe, to relax.

"How did you get here? How did you follow me?" Ciara Mackenzie's words were bitten off, hard.

"My partner's good at his job." Darien shrugged and let the dark smile creep onto his face.

"Well, he's gonna die ugly if you don't tell me how." She smiled back at him, the crooked grin nearly as darkened as his and Harmony's had been.

"I heard you in the lab." It wasn't a complete lie. He'd heard many things in the lab. Now, he'd seen the proof of what the serum was for.

Harmony lay quiet now, still hugging herself. He saw her shallow breathing and how she was holding herself, as if she was tender inside. With her back to the couch, she looked even younger and more delicate, despite what he'd just went through at her hands. He knew better now.

"I'll turn her loose on you again if you don't come clean and she's just as skilled at killing in this state, as well." She met his eyes and smiled like a shark. "Do you believe me?"

He nodded, breathing deeply. Darien believed it. Harmony was not to be trifled with, even in her half-conscious state. His throat hurt and his head felt like it had been used for a bass drum.

Picking up a cellular phone from the table beside the couch, the agent dialed a number and spoke quietly.

"I need you to come to us. Bring your counteragent."

Ciara Mackenzie clicked the phone off and laid it down. Her eyes had never left him; she'd been meeting his eyes, as if silently daring him to even move another muscle.

Crouching down beside her charge, she frowned at him suddenly, as if a thought came and it was distasteful. She broke eye contact then.

The pain and the rage in his mind took another step towards the breaking point. Darien Fawkes bent down and squatted only a few inches away from the two women. He itched to tear into the agent for her part in this whole fiasco; instead he looked at Harmony, who was like him---living with a monkey on her back that had a mouthful of teeth and penchant for homicidal psychosis. Whatever had been done to her was connected to him, he knew.

She had to be an experiment---something was so wrong about her smell, her strength, her anger.

Darien looked at Ciara and saw again the emotional similarities between his own Keeper and this cold-blooded killer with the ice-grey eyes.

"You've got a gift."

He snorted and let a nasty-tempered grin slide onto his face. It was getting so old; the torment and the secrets and the lies.

"Yeh...I've been told that before." His voice was as dangerously tinged with thickness as Harmony Corwin's had been earlier. He looked down at the young woman who lay between them, only half-conscious. Her eyes were slits, showing nothing but white.

Ciara Mackenzie, ex-agent of the federal government, grinned back at him. It was the mirror image of his own foul smile. Her words were soft now, showing no mercy in their heartlessness.

"It's gonna serve me well."

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Chapter Eleven:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

Trust is a funny thing, you know? You think you know someone and in a moment, in only a few words, they change themselves in your mind, in your perspective. It is like those 3D pictures that when you look at them one way, it shows you the face of a loved one and then you shift the eye and the face is that of a stranger. I know how that feels in my guts now.

I thought I knew enough about my Keeper---okay, let's be honest, I knew nothing about her except what she looked like and that she's interesting to talk to when I have nothing else to do. Anyhow, I thought I 'knew' her.

But, then, I grew up with Kevin and I was finding out that I didn't know my brother deep down inside. Now that he wasn't there to tell me his side of the story, I was getting a chance to find out that he and I weren't so very different inside after all.

It just goes to show you...you don't really know the soul of a person. Not even yourself.

@@@

Darien sat on the chair across from the sofa and looked at the young woman who remained on the floor across from him.

His Keeper rubbed the exposed arm he held out with a piece of cotton soaked in alcohol. The needle slipped in quick and easy and he never even noticed as he continued to stare at the sleepy face of Harmony Corwin.

Ciara had gone down to let the Keeper in and to get Hobbes from the van, leaving him with Harmony who'd sat there watching him as if he were some new breed of her own species. He was sure she wouldn't be too far off with that thought. Now, they were gathered in the studio apartment, studying each other as if expecting some one to jump and run in that second.

"That's a nasty one." The Keeper's voice was neutral as she leaned down to examine the bruises on Darien's face and throat. Her hair folded itself around her neck as she reached out and gently touched a particularly bad mark on his adam's apple. It was perfectly oval and shaped very much like the thumb mark of a large child's handprint.

"I tangled with your friend there." He didn't look away from Harmony who continued to stare back at him with her eyes half-hooded, a drowsy expression on her face. She looked very much drugged.

Without taking her sleepy eyes from him, she was unbuttoning her shirt without any sense of modesty. Done, she let her fingers twist in the tail ends of the blouse and waited silently, patiently for the Keeper to check her next.

"Now you know how Agent Hobbes felt when you tried to kill him." Her British voice was clipped and she turned to smile at Ciara over her shoulder. The female agent, moving around the room, putting things to right, cocked an eyebrow at the words.

Darien glanced at Hobbes, who leaned on the wall across the room. His partner had a look of concern and disgust mixed in equal portions on his face.

He could feel the counteragent working its way through his body, taking care of the built-up quicksilver in his blood. He didn't need to look at the monitor he wore now to see that it had returned to green; his body told him he was fine despite having pushed himself to this same point twice in one day. He was just glad that the Keeper had started keeping booster amounts of counteragent available.

Behind him now, he could hear Ciara at the sink where the kitchen table and chairs were. She was running water; preparing what smelled like coffee. Right now, he didn't care that he had no idea whether to trust her or not. He needed some caffeine.

He watched as the Keeper knelt beside the woman who'd nearly managed to kill him with her bare hands. She used a stethoscope to check the condition of her heart and lungs, asking Harmony to breathe deep and then normally. She took her pulse and looked into the drooping eyes.

"Did you lose blood?"

Harmony nodded, swallowing hard and audibly. The Keeper frowned.

"That's what I'm smelling. It's like someone slaughtered the family pet." Hobbes had been sniffing for some time, his eyes narrowed and concentrating, trying to find the source of the scent. At his words, Darien turned his head and shot him a look that pleaded for silence on that subject.

As he moved to swing his head back around to watch the Keeper caring for Harmony Corwin, he found Ciara had come back to the center of the room and was now seated on the couch. One long leg was flung over the crushed brown velvet arm of the overstuffed furniture.

"You're very familiar." Her pale eyes never left him, staring the same way that her young friend had been. Ciara Mackenzie turned her head, tilting her chin, to see him from a new angle. A frown played seriously on her mouth, as is considering what to do with this new development. "Like I've talked to you before."

His Keeper never looked up from examining Harmony's eyes. "He's Kevin Fawkes' brother."

"You're Kevin's brother?" Harmony dodged the beam of light that was aimed into her pupil and searched his face with a scouring, curious glance. She was more awake and seemed remarkably young now, this revelation bringing her into focus. "Kevin experimented on his own brother?"

"Yeh, guilty as charged." Darien grinned weakly, feeling the sudden wave of sick softness that came when the counteragent managed to get into his heart and brain, finishing its work. "Now, you wanna tell us what this is really about? I know you're an experiment, like me, but how come I wasn't told that Kevin'd done this before?"

Hobbes' laugh was sharp and short. "If you want to sucker someone, you don't tell them the down side, do you?"

"Kevin didn’t do this to Harmony, Agent Hobbes." Ciara’s accented voice was quiet and thoughtful. "His part was far more interesting."

Darien knew that it was the truth. He'd been conned all along, by the Official and by the Agency, and probably by Kevin. He had this idea, only half-formed, that maybe, just maybe, Kev had known about what the gland would do and it had been his way of paying his kid brother back for all the bullshit Darien had done when they were growing up.

No, Kevin wouldn't do something like that, right? Kev was a good guy.

"How do you know Kevin?" He shook the idea that he'd been an easy mark for a con out of his brain and looked at the mysterious agent who'd managed to bring them all together in this one room, even Hobbes.

"Well, now---that's only the middle of the story." She shifted in her place and folded her arms behind her head, limbering up her back muscles, from the look of it.

"Can I ask you another question?" He watched as his Keeper rose and went to the kitchen area and began to pour coffee into three cups. Darien knew for sure that Hobbes would accept nothing while he was here, in this apartment. His suspicious nature would prohibit him from indulging, unless he had a good reason for it.

His own suspicions were realized when as Ciara began to speak, his Keeper set a steaming mug of the coffee down at his elbow without a word.

"Sure---you're one of the agents on this assignment. Ask away." The way she said it, Ciara was laughing without even smiling.

Darien watched as the Keeper sat down on the sofa, beside the female agent. The young, lithe woman in the floor leaned back against her, laying her head down on a knee that was now exposed as the Keeper settled.

It was a beautiful picture and one that he had an idea was much more dangerous now than it had been before, when it was only Ciara Mackenzie and Harmony Corwin. His Keeper was supposed to be on his side, beside him. She'd gone to sit with friends, instinctively, and it was a bad sign for Darien Fawkes.

"You look just like your last service picture, Agent Mackenzie. How come you're not ten years older, as Harmony is, as everyone else is? How old are you?" It came out jumbled a little and his voice faded at the end, as he wondered if the things he'd heard on her and her expertise as an agent were true. If she told him, would she have to kill him?

Looking over his head, she seemed to be meeting his partner's eyes with a blank expression. Darien didn't turn to see what Hobbes was doing under that hawk-like gray gaze.

"That's classified information, Mr. Fawkes."

"I'm not surprised. How you managed to disappear ten years ago in front of an entire room of people is probably on the need to know list, too. Right?" It was speculative and he laid his cheek on a balled-up fist and leaned onto the arm of the chair, rubbing at his head with the other hand.

All that came back was a smile. When at last she did speak, Ciara Mackenzie's tone had changed from a challenging to a more gentle, even more dangerous sounding one. It was like a lioness purring over her kill.

"Now that you've caught your man---or rather, your women, what's next, Mr. Fawkes?"

Darien had a sudden flash of insight; he didn't have a clue as to who had caught who. Was he and Hobbes now this woman's prisoners? Was it the other way around? Had they reached a Mexican stand off?

"We could do what we were ordered to do and take you in." Hobbes spoke up, a reminder of his welcome presence. Darien was honestly glad for it. He didn't think he'd want to be alone with this woman who smiled at him like she might cut him to shreds with her eyes if he crossed her the wrong way.

If Harmony was supposed to be the more dangerous of the two, then what had he tangled with earlier, when he'd exposed himself and the smaller, girlish hacker had jumped him in her weakened condition?

Again, the idea that he had blown his own cover and had come out alive after fighting with a maddened Harmony Corwin came to him. He fought a shiver as he looked down at the girl who drowsed on the knee of his Keeper as if it was the only place in the world to fall asleep.

"Ah...the Official." The way the sleepy voice spoke, the words could have been poisoned candy being offered to him. He looked away from her pale, translucent face and met the Keeper's eyes.

"What I want to know, strictly off the record, is what the hell you are doing up to your neck in this mess?" He said it to the Keeper, who wore a frown on her full mouth. "Exactly what and who is Harmony?"

"Tell us a story, Doc." Hobbes shifted position and sat down on the edge of the table that was standing close by.

"Alright. I'll tell you what I know about this and how I came to be involved in it again." The Keeper looked from one agent to the other and then at Ciara. One of her hands moved over Harmony's hair, stroking it gently, as if she were a very young child.

"Ten years ago, I came to work for the Agency as a junior researcher. I was young and had already had experience with what the government could do to people when it came to experiments done without regard to human suffering. I worked on a particular project in labs, dealing with the genetics of a certain young girl who lived in Lab 2. Harmony."

With the sound of her name being said, Harmony rubbed her cheek against the exposed skin on the Keeper's knee and shivered involuntarily, the movement coursing all over her body. Darien glanced at her and then back to the woman who'd continued to speak.

"The researchers involved in the second half of the project---such as myself and her Keeper---grew fond of Harmony. She had no family. There was only one person, though, who had total, complete control over what happened to her and this was the one she trusted. Her Keeper. She was locked in that lab, in that building, poor thing, before she was given a Keeper for the first time when she was almost nine years old."

The hand that had been stroking the brown hair went on moving gently over the loose waves of the slightly mussed hair, smoothing it down.

"How did she come to be there? Isn't there laws against that kind of crap?" Darien took his coffee and drank from it, unconsciously sniffing at it first.

"The Agency and the CIA’s scientific research committee started a program, an experiment that would, in the end, produce the ultimate spy and soldier. Sounds familiar? It wasn't the first attempt. There were others before Harmony." The Keeper took a drink of her own coffee and sighed, her face going very serious again.

"They have all, right up through you, Darien, been partial successes. In Harmony's case, the committee became her guardian when she became an orphan at four months old. She was lost in the system, handed over to this experiment in exchange for some appropriated funds." Her voice was emotionless and Darien couldn't believe at first he'd heard the last part correctly.

"She was sold into this as a baby? Sold? What was the price? Thirty pieces of silver?" He felt angry; he'd had a choice and he'd made a wrong one in his mind, but a baby had no say in what happened to it. It made him think of what little bit Maggie Celo had told him about her own past.

Harmony cracked a toothy grin at his words, her eyes still closed.

The Keeper went on. "The experiments are long and detailed. All you need to know is that I came into it at a point when the project was changing drastically and that I, and her Keeper, had no idea what she was or what the intent of her alterations was."

"She was trained and educated in the labs; a very bright child has no limits on what they can learn. Harmony learned how to kill before she'd finished learning how to use her ability. This was all ‘before’ she was nine years old." The Keeper looked at each of them in turn, starting with Hobbes.

"I became involved about the same time your brother did, Darien. Ten years ago, Dr. Kevin Fawkes, still in college, and I came into the bigger picture." She took a long moment and stared at the hand that was touching Harmony's head as if it didn't belong to her. She didn't look up from it as she went on, after a minute of silence.

She sighed and her eyes flickered with memory. Darien stared at her, fascinated by what she was saying. "She entered an upheaval period. Harmony was the first female subject they'd dealt with in this particular experiment. The effects of female puberty on these changes were not documented; no one had any idea what might happen. The hormones bonded internally---there are some similarities between the metabolic structures of her natural hormones and the introduced hormone enhancements. With the flux of female-orientated hormones came a startling new piece of information."

"This was unforeseen?" Hobbes shifted position again, growing restless. He shook his head disbelievingly at the news that the scientists had not covered all their bases.

"Harmony's chemical system had mutated and with the quickly changing flow of hormones came a new mental and emotional state; one of unbalance."

Hobbes snorted wordlessly; the sound of it was flat and sarcastic. Darien saw, as he turned, the look of silent compassion that flickered over the cynical agent's face.

"With the constant changing of her body on a day to day basis, the data became worthless, corrupt." The Keeper had drained her coffee cup and now it sat, in the floor by the silent Harmony, who seemed to not care if they talked about her like she wasn't in the room. Her eyes were closed and her face was slack, as if in sleep.

"Her body's acceptance of the genetic alterations was a given. She'd taken to it easily and it was now irreversible. Darien, your brother worked hard to find a balance for what had happened. Surgery was done to sterilize the girl, as a way to put Harmony's natural hormones to sleep. It didn't fix the whole problem."

The hand had resumed its smoothing motion over the brown hair. "She became erratic. The committee decided she was no longer viable and gave the go-ahead that the experiment be ended."

"They wanted a ten year old kid killed?" Darien leaned forward over his knees and looked from the two women on the couch to the very young-looking Harmony who was oblivious to anything at the moment.

"An hour before the sterilization, she attacked and killed two agents who were guarding the room. The lab assistants testified that the girl they'd been prepping for surgery had managed to brutally murder two federal security agents. They claimed she laughed while killing them. She was deemed a threat to national safety and discussions began---deliberations that took over a year to complete." Her voice grew soft, angry.

Darien watched, mesmerized. It was more than he'd ever heard her say before. It was more than he'd known about the experiments that he'd suspected had to have gone before him; it made sense that they had to know what it would do to the human body---but what had they known and what had they hidden?

"The day before she was scheduled to be 'terminated', she escaped from a guarded laboratory without being detected. No one could be sure who helped her, but there was no way she could unlock the door from where she was at."

A long silence came then, and Darien listened to the beating of his heart. He looked at Hobbes, who was busy examining the floor in front of him; the older agent was deep in thought.

"I was questioned because I, like her Keeper, had fought the decision, determined to keep her alive. It ended with me being released from the project, to work on other things for the DOD."

"You didn't do it?" Darien didn't believe it. Somehow, in his mind, he had pictured his Keeper, as a younger woman, releasing the child from the lab, acting in the capacity of a surrogate mother. The idea had made him warm to her considerably.

"No. I did not unlock the door and let her get away, Darien." Her voice was louder now but not defensive. "It was a full month later that she was found to be still in this city. She'd been living successfully on the streets and sleeping in an abandoned house while preparations were being made for her to leave the country. She was caught because a concerned citizen became suspicious of her being alone, obviously not in school, and called the welfare department in to investigate. The Agency and the FBI side-railed it and took over."

Darien cupped his hands together where they hung between his knees and studied the face of Harmony as she rested easily, the blank look still on her face. She was a complex mess of killer instincts and child-like love for the ones who'd cared for her. Her story was getting to him.

"Agents were sent to watch her, to catch her at the point when she'd be at her weakest. The orders were given that she was to be shot on sight."

The Keeper's voice had changed again, during this, and he could hear the anger that had laced the words.

"The experiment at this point had become your brother's baby, Darien, because he was her Keeper and physician. He was called in to assist the agents in bringing Harmony down, like a rabid beast. He had talked to the federal agents and the committee involved, trying to convince them to talk to their superiors at the CIA and the Agency, to change the game plan. Kevin desperately wanted to save the child's life."

"When Kevin Fawkes approached me with the plan he had created, to get Harmony out of the country, I believed and helped him." Ciara spoke now, her voice a more soothing sound than the Keeper's. Her emotions hadn't been raised by the details of the story. "When the time came to bring her down, Kevin and I were the ones who were sent into that house to get her."

Her voice rose and she cleared her throat, going on.

"Kevin was allowed into the situation, at my insistence, because as I told the agent-in-charge of the assignment, Harmony Corwin knew the doctor and trusted him without reserve. I was sent because she showed distrust and dislike to other men in general. None of the male agents were sure that they would be able to get close enough to do the job. Kevin was to draw her into the open and I was to bring her down."

Darien smiled. He could picture her at ten and eleven years old and understood why two rational, cool-headed people would go to great lengths to try to save the life of a little girl who could laugh while killing trained agents.

In his mind, he thought of Jessica again and wondered if he'd have done the same, if in the place of his brother. Yeh, he knew he would.

"You liked Kevin, didn't you?" It came out as a whisper, aimed at the sleeping woman, as he mused on the relationship he'd built and lost with Jessica Semplar as her invisible friend, Ralph.

A smile crept onto her face and her blue hazel eyes opened to look at him, still very sleepy and clouded by the drug in her system.

He suspected her serum contained more than the chemicals needed to stop the madness; he wouldn't have been surprised to find out that there was a tranquilizer or a sedative in the milky fluid he'd watched Ciara Mackenzie inject her with.

"He was nice to me. Always. My best friend. Are you as good as your brother?" Her voice was husky with relaxation. Before he could answer, the slender female agent went on.

"We got her out of there to safety in Switzerland, where she was made the legal charge of a friend of mine. Protected by laws of amnesty. Kevin Fawkes and I managed to protect her, hide her. She was medically cared for by a student there."

"Wait a minute---if the kid's brother was up to his ears in her escape from justice, how come he wasn't brought up on charges?" Hobbes stood up and walked towards the couch, his voice expressing the suspicion that was rampant on his face.

The woman laughed and looked to the Keeper, who smiled back. When Ciara spoke, she looked at Darien out of the corner of her eye while facing Hobbes.

"The good doctor suggested I pull a 'Darien'."

Hobbes snorted, losing his doubtful edge and the Keeper's smile broadened. It transformed her face.

"The two of you pulled a con?" Darien picked up his coffee and grinned at the thought.

"He and I were in an isolated spot in that house, out of reach and sight from my partner and all of the agents. I beat Kevin Fawkes senseless, at his insistence, and took Harmony to a waiting place. Later, while I was being debriefed, your brother got her out of the country." Her own smile had turned crooked, sly.

"Old cover and switch routine." Darien felt his heart swell in memory of Kevin and his ability to think fast. He'd have made a great con artist himself.

"Your brother played them like violins. As a 'sensitive, non-physical scholar', he stood no chance, as he told the committee who investigated. He sold me out, at my insistence, for a chance to get Harmony out of danger. He went to Switzerland for a ‘vacation’, to re-gather his strength and his nerves, taking his young 'niece' with him for company."

The hidden laughter in her voice made her voice quaver with the words she spoke, making them even funnier to Darien. He laughed out loud and closed his eyes for a moment, picturing it.

"You killed the agent-in-charge of the assignment." Hobbes was moving again, circling the couch and headed for the chair where Darien sat, enjoying the story.

"He suspected what we'd done, of course, as did my new, pain-in-the-ass FBI-assigned partner. They were going to bring the truth to light at the debriefing. We did what we had to do."

Harmony's voice was a slow, hoarse whisper now as she spoke without opening her eyes. "She's good at that---doing what has to be done."

Darien looked up from the young, beautiful face to see Ciara Mackenzie's eyes on him, sharp and very focused, and all very serious now.

"Mr. Fawkes, your brother faulted himself for what had happened to her genetics even though he had nothing to do with most of it. I personally felt responsible to make sure his wishes, as her doctor and Keeper, were respected. I became Harmony's Keeper and stayed with her."

A thought had been niggling at his brain since the beginning of the investigation. "I don't understand---you disappeared from sight after killing the agent-in-charge. How?"

The enigmatic smile was back. "You know the routine. Classified. Don't ask again."

"Okay." Darien smiled and made plans to check out that faded blue number on the back of her picture---it had to be a reference number for a file somewhere. "Now, why did you come back to the surface two months ago? You were safe in Switzerland."

"Your brother went back to working on his experiments, trying to fix what went wrong in Harmony’s case. The cerebral-altering ideas behind the Chameleon Project---as well as certain other projects he was dealing with---were good ones and it led to his becoming the leading scientist in the field of mapping the human brain."

Darien knew all this; he'd been living with it.

"The teenaged medical student became a doctor, just as bright as Kevin for research and development, and went to work for him. He'd improved on the serum, bringing about a stop to some of the worse effects from the chemical imbalance." Ciara Mackenzie's face darkened then, sharply.

Her voice was deeper and now Darien could hear the cold-blooded rasp of anger that changed her tone. "Five months ago, our young Swiss doctor friend came back from working here in the States with your brother. He had suggestions for what Harmony Corwin could do to be rewarded the secret of an improved serum."

"Arnaud...You're talking about Arnaud." Darien whispered, feeling the blood drain away fast, leaving his veins icy.

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Chapter Twelve:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

Someone once said "Never ignore a gut feeling but never believe that it's enough." Now, just because he was a piece of green felt with a penchant for singing sappy songs doesn't mean that Kermit the Frog was wrong. In fact, this was probably the sanest thing I ever heard.

I'd gotten caught---so I was not the greatest thief in the world. I already knew that. I'd been busted three times. Only this time was different. I'd not expected the spider and the people who owned the place hadn't called the cops. One of them had tried to kill me and the other had probably saved my life by stopping the murder in progress and by calling my Keeper to come help out.

I knew it had been a rough day, but it was about to bring more revelations and who could pass up finding more about the Keeper and her mysterious past? I'd been trailing Harmony Corwin and Ciara Mackenzie the whole day and now I was about to be offered a chance to bust some governmental pug-ugly.

Sure, if it led me to Arnaud---I'd let them get away. My conscience might even sleep better with the knowledge that I'd probably helped the good guys this time.

My gut told me that these women were on the level with us now, but I didn't believe for a second that they'd told me everything. I guess, even with my shady past, I had always been suspicious...and my partner was rubbing off on me.

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"You mean that maniac was the young doctor who took care of the chameleon kid here?" Hobbes found a place, seated on the arm of the chair; he had become engrossed in the confessions and the story had taken a new meaning for both him and Darien.

"Yes. When he made his suggestion of Harmony working for him in exchange for the new serum, I became suspicious and tried to call Kevin. I'm sorry, Mr. Fawkes, I had no prior knowledge of Arnaud's intended extra-curricular activities where your brother was concerned."

Darien stared at her, still frozen inside, his heart thumping hard.

"Arnaud's alive..." He whispered it, looking around, feeling lost suddenly. He'd not been able to save Kevin and now the man responsible for his brother's death was still alive and causing trouble.

"Not for long." The voice that came from the young woman on the floor was slow, spaced out, and so soft that it was nearly missed.

Everyone paused as she spoke and looked at each other, concern in their faces. Hobbes studied Harmony’s peaceful expression, considered her threat of violence against Arnaud, and shook his head, the look of compassion returning.

"We came back to the States and she’s been doing what he asked, even though it goes against my wishes. Arnaud pays her, which I use to pay the Agency for the Keeper’s research into the information we've provided her with."

"You gave the Keeper the information." Hobbes grinned. "Now, that was smart thinking. If he won't give you what you want, you take the goods to someone who can be of use."

"I don't want Harmony to give him that information, in any shape. He killed Kevin Fawkes---or was responsible for his death. He has plans for that last disk." Ciara's words were defensive as she answered the implied accusation from Hobbes.

"You've found something, haven't you?" Darien smiled at the Keeper, pushing the memory of Arnaud and what he'd done to the side. "You've been interchanging information between the experiments, right? You've been doing this to help me out."

"Don't assume, Darien." She turned and looked at him, her full lips frowning. The Keeper ran a hand over the head of the sleeping Harmony, the tips of her fingers sliding through the thick hair that she'd smoothed earlier. "I care about Harmony. She's a special person."

Harmony, responding to the touch and the voice, drowsily yawned and her eyes opened a slit that made her look dangerous even in her repose, like a reptile. "So is Darien."

No one spoke for long moments, as once more they waited for more to come from the drugged woman. Nothing was said. Hobbes broke the silence, his eyes searching the faces of both the Keeper and Ciara Mackenzie.

"Okay---Arnaud's using you against your will to get information, but you're getting to the agents before they can be convinced to tell him what he wants to know about your plans. How exactly are you doing that?"

Ciara Mackenzie's face was a blank and she met the agent's eyes without blinking. "I know what you're thinking, Agent Hobbes. You're wanting to know why I’m having them killed off."

"You're the one doing that?" The Keeper's voice was a harsh whisper, her dismay showing proof that she'd not had anything to do with this.

"What would you have me do, a stor? Let Arnaud have what he's looking for? If I did that, the security of this nation would be forfeit immediately. His newly acquired friend is a very powerful man and has great big plans for that information. With it, there will be more people like Harmony and Darien Fawkes and they will be used to kill and to spy...only they probably won't be half as sweet as our girl or as moral as Mr. Fawkes." Ciara was cold and loud. She snarled her face up and frowned. "I will not compromise this country's security for a few lives."

"You think killing them is right?" Darien leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, sure that the woman was a patriot, like Hobbes, if nothing else.

"This is an exercise in containment. Agent Hobbes will recognize that---those agents were dead already before I got to them. Arnaud just didn't get his valuable information. He would have killed them, no matter what they gave him."

Darien saw the sense in that. Arnaud and whomever he was working with---some one in political, apparently, would not leave behind witnesses to the crime.

"Grant was in it up to his filthy neck, too, working for a researcher who would love to get his hands on the information Harmony possesses. He gave Arnaud the names of those agents and where they would be. I killed him for his breech of procedure." Ciara's voice was still cold. "Special Agent Bryan Grant was not a high price to pay for justice. He was a piece of shit who knew just enough to make him the enemy of the United States. He'd have sold us all out. The others are---regrettable. My associate tried to convince them of the danger they were in. They wouldn't listen. He stopped them from being able to tell where the files were in the Agency that held the information. "

Darien watched her face go through a subtle change that rippled under the surface of her features. She went on speaking.

"If our friend here, the Keeper, were a security threat to this information, I'd kill her, too. Understand?"

"I understand that you're a cold-blooded monster, aren't you?" Darien couldn't help but say it. He'd never seen anyone who was so determined to keep a secret. What was really in that file, that she was willing to kill three agents for it? What had Kevin been doing?

"You may not be able to do the same, Mr. Fawkes, but your and Harmony's lives are at stake here. Surely, your brother didn't die in vain protecting you. Now, I have a window of opportunity to get at the man that Arnaud is working with before Jonathan comes back to collect that last disk and brings large, angry men with him. It's a small window of opportunity, but I have to try."

Her words caught his attention and he watched as she got up and refilled her cup from the counter in the kitchenette area. Darien wondered what was going to happen next. He looked at Hobbes, who shrugged and went back to looking at Harmony as if he expected her to come, roaring, up out of sleep to kill someone.

"Window of opportunity? What're you talking about?"

She returned and sat down gingerly, setting the cup of coffee on the table. She looked at each of them and nodded, as if deciding something in her mind.

"I may not be able to get to Arnaud right now, but Congressman Edgeley is going to be at the Hotel Rimbaud tomorrow night. I could get to him, maybe expose him and his connection to the researcher behind this situation, if I had a way to get into the small fund-raising party being held there. Unfortunately, I've no way of doing that without getting caught by the security that will be crawling there."

Darien had made up his mind to do what he could to get his hands on Arnaud again. He was pretty sure that the ex-agent was telling the truth and as he looked at her, he knew that the Keeper and Ciara Mackenzie were serious about helping the young woman. This could only help him.

"Do you think you could use the talents of a second-story man to get through that window?"

"What are you considering, Darien?" The Keeper said as he cracked his knuckles, thinking of what he might be able to do to get an edge into that party.

"I have a feeling that the Fat Man can put us there, if you want our help."

Ciara's eyes narrowed and she studied him hard before speaking, searching him for a trap. "How?"

"I could offer my invaluable services as part of the security. Hobbes could do the same." Darien grinned, knowing he'd caught the imagination of Ciara Mackenzie.

"I could do what?" Hobbes was incensed. "Are you out to lunch on this? And what about Agent Mackenzie, hotshot? How're you planning on getting her in when she's being hunted?" His partner was upset, but he seemed ready to go along with the sudden change in plan.

Darien shifted his gaze from Hobbes to Ciara Mackenzie and grinned, letting his words come out to sound like a tongue-tied kid. "I have this party I might have to go to tomorrow and I was just wondering if you'd like to go along? I mean, it's this black-tie affair, boring stuff, but we could crash it and have some fun."

The woman grinned back wolfishly, making her grey eyes sharper. "Love to, Darien Fawkes."

His Keeper sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, we're talking a maybe here. What're you going to tell the Official?"

Hobbes shifted his seat on the arm of the chair, putting a hand behind him to steady himself. He was starting to look rumpled from having been up and running for most of the day. When he spoke, there was a light in his eyes that showed he had been thinking along the same lines, wondering what to tell the Official.

"We could tell him we uncovered evidence that the group's next target is that party. It's plausible as long as they don't see her on your arm. We could say that we heard her tell someone to be there. It's not too far from the truth---we're gonna be there."

Darien laughed and scrubbed at his head with his fingers, feeling the scars in the back, under the hairline. "Good idea, Hobbes, let's do that."

"Oh, you're going to go along with this, then?" Ciara smiled crookedly at Hobbes, impressed. "Agent Hobbes, I'm taken with your spirit."

"Yeh, well, I believe there might be some parts of me that you could be telling the truth. Besides, the two of you need a third wheel since you're gonna go hunting a Congressman." The dryness of his words were accented by the dead-pan expression the agent wore as he brought both hands around to grasp at his sides.

Ciara Mackenzie laughed. "I like your style, Agent Hobbes. You would make an excellent partner. What's your stake in this?"

The normally-nervous man took his arms from his side and stuffed them in his trouser pockets. "You gave me the news that Grant was dirty. I guessed it years ago and when I tried to do something about it, he had me take the fall for him. Some times, cold revenge is better than no revenge at all."

"And it can be really tasty." Her tone was quiet as she studied him; the two agents had found more than common ground, they had met on the level, even if neither of them really trusted the other. "I think you’ll be surprised at how much your boss would agree with us on this matter."

"You want to go with us?" Darien spoke now to the Keeper, who was staring at the floor, in thought. He was still smiling at the thought of getting this Congressman and Arnaud and whoever else was involved; it would be only fitting for two experiments and their Keepers to be the ones to bring down the conspiracy.

"No...not really. I need to run some tests on Harmony, and I can use the lab for that when no one else is there. Tomorrow night would be just right for that." She turned her head towards the woman who sat beside her. "I think I should stay the night, Ciara, to keep an eye on her. She's thrown up a lot of blood---the serum might have had too large a dose of morphine in it for her to handle at that point; her heartbeat was too slow."

Morphine. Her serum had morphine in it, as a pain killer. Darien nodded, remembering how evil she'd been, with her hands around his throat. She'd felt nothing but joy at the idea of killing him; sedating her when she was in such a state would be the right thing to do.

"So---we're gonna get the security invitations from the Official tomorrow and we can be back here in the afternoon." He realized something and groaned. "I don't know about Hobbes here, but I have no money right now for something proper to wear."

"You just come back here tomorrow with the invitations from the Official and I'll cover the rest." The Keeper smiled and Darien couldn't help but smile back. He was seeing more of her human side. What all was she capable of? How many sides did she have?

"You sure you don't want us to stay here tonight?" He couldn't resist asking.

"I believe we can trust ourselves without you two lady killers guarding us." Ciara was laughing, a cynical sound, as she stood up.

Hobbes followed her example and began walking towards the banister that stood by the open doorway that led downstairs. The two agents stood close together there and spoke quietly. His partner kept looking around the apartment, the wheels still turning in his brain, obvious from the way his eyes moved.

Darien crouched in front of the Keeper, only inches from Harmony's head. The British doctor still moved her hand slowly over the young woman's hair.

"Was she really trained from a kid to kill?"

The Keeper, her eyes shifting from the bruises on his throat and face, brought her gaze up to meet his glance.

"Darien, she can remove your lungs through your ribs with a spoon if she wants and she would probably love the feel of it, on some level. She had no real parental guidance until they gave her a Keeper and because of it, she has no qualms when she's physically pushed. No morals."

Darien broke eye contact and looked down at the sleeping woman who looked very much like a child at the moment. He had an idea of what she was really like, caught inside her madness, and he was beginning to get a picture of what she could be like to have as a friend.

"You know what? I think Kevin was like a parent to her---the only parent she knew. She obviously loved you guys, even if you were researching it."

"Very commendable of you to guess that. Just because she's a trained experiment with the psychological make-up of a serial killer doesn't mean her heart's not good. She's a very sweet person, a good person. Like you. Your brother once said Harmony was proof that no one could train the human soul out of a person or remove it with a scalpel." The Keeper's smile was gentle and sad.

"Sounds like Kevin. He's the one who got her out of that lab, wasn't he? And maybe you didn't unlock that door or actually take her out, but you maybe knew it was going on and said nothing."

She looked surprised by his soft words. "Some things we do are the hardest because they are done out of love."

Her face grew sadder still, as she looked at him. "Your brother loved you, Darien. He wouldn't have done any of this to either of you if he'd known the truth of what was going to happen. If there's anyone dirty behind this, it wasn't Kevin Fawkes. He was betrayed, too."

"Yeh...by Arnaud." Darien's words dragged over his lips. He was still thinking about the things Arnaud had said to him about justice being sold to the highest bidder. "I hope you're right."

He stood up and followed his partner and Ciara Mackenzie downstairs, through the dark bookstore. In the black space, she was nearly unseen in her dark suit. She let them out and locked the door behind them.

Heading around to the backside of the building, they didn't say anything. Hobbes started the van and pulled out, but only went around the corner and parked again, three blocks away.

"What are you doing, man?" Darien had just put on his seat belt, ready to go home and get some sleep.

Hobbes sighed and flung the door open to the rear of the van. He moved into the anterior of the vehicle and removed his jacket. Loosening his collar, he sat down on the stool and looked at Darien.

"You really know how to pull scams, you know that? You're lucky nobody died tonight...it could've been you. What if she'd decided to let her little monster strangle you to death? She didn't have to be so good as to call your Keeper and settle things."

"What are you doing?" Darien got up from his seat and, bending down, went to sit at the soundboard beside Hobbes. "We should be getting some sleep."

"You can crash here. I'm not going anywhere, kid. Me, I'm keeping an eye on our new buddies." The agent, rolling his sleeves up, flicked a switch on the board and a TV screen came on. It showed the studio apartment they'd just come out of.

They now had a view of the room, where Ciara and the Keeper sat talking in whispers on the couch. It was from a slightly different angle than the one that Darien had spent most of the evening look at, but not too far off. Harmony could be seen, lying on the bed in the background.

Hobbes then turned on the sound, keeping it low. The two women's voices went on, talking about the situation they'd found themselves in...talking about the two agents who'd just left. He heard the Official called by name a few times. They spoke in low tones, but there was no betrayal visibly going on.

"What is that?"

"A camera with a bug. I planted one on the table beside the chair you sat on. What, did you think I was just trying to get closer to you, pal?"

Darien shook his head, grinning. "Hobbes, just when I think I've got your number---"

His partner grinned back and turned back to look at the screen. "Never underestimate me, my friend. I trust no one."

"I'm impressed." Darien settled onto the seat, knowing he would have to rest soon. He was worn down from the day's spying, pulling a con, getting caught and nearly killed, and pushing the gland's excretions twice.

"Hey---you're not the only bright bulb sneak in the gang, you know."

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Chapter 13:

"Come on, Darien, wake up."

The sound of his first name coming from Hobbes startled him. He came awake fast, jerking to attention. Looking around, he saw the interior of the van as it had looked last night, when they'd come back to it, gotten in, driven around the corner, got in the back, turned on the lights and a television screen.

He'd gone to sleep watching the Keeper and her old friend, the ex-agent Ciara Mackenzie as they were going about cleaning up the bathroom and picking up the empty coffee cups. There had been lots of discussion between the two about the effects of the serum on the seriously ill Harmony, who'd gone too long before receiving her injection; she had thrown up a lot of blood which caused the levels of serum in her blood to be slightly off-kilter.

"What?" He looked at his watch and scrubbed at his hair hard. Darien Fawkes felt bad; he'd gone to sleep sitting up against the side of the van's wall, in the floor. It was six in the morning. The world had begun again.

"I wanted to ask you a question that might ring a bell." Hobbes looked tired; his eyes had dark circles under them from not sleeping, but the older agent also had a self-satisfied look on his tan face. "Does the name Senator Miven ring a bell?"

"Well, yeh. Wasn't he the guy---" Before he could answer, his partner jumped back in.

"Yeh, he's the guy that the Catevari---Charlie Fogerty---killed. He used to be the head of the Agency and a big member of the CIA’s scientific experimentation committee."

"Okay, Hobbes, what's this about?" He stretched where he sat and studied the screen. It was now a strange tableau. From the angle of the camera, it would look like all three women were piled up in the double bed. Staring at it for a minute, he wondered what he had missed.

"Well, hotshot, last night, they talked about him. Good thing he's dead, cause he deserves it. He was one of the guys behind the experiments on our girl in there. He's one of three people who signed her death warrant as well as being one of the people behind the original genetic work that was done. She had big reasons to want him dead." Hobbes looked drawn and exhausted, but his fire was already burning.

"She didn't kill him, Hobbes. Fogerty did. You and I saw that." Darien became aware that there was a new smell in the back of the van---a very welcome one. "Coffee? You left the van? When?"

"Hey, I had to take a leak, didn't I? I got us some coffee from down around the corner at that diner." The experienced agent looked at him out of the corner of his dark eye, with the same self-satisfied look, as he handed Darien a Styrofoam cup and filled it from a thermos. "They were good enough to put a whole pot in here for me."

"You left the van? You? Wow. I must be rubbing off on you. You're slipping, Bobby Hobbes." Darien took the white cup and blew on it, appreciatively. He yawned big.

"They were asleep at that point, my friend. I didn't see any sense in watching them sleep all night. I got out and made a few phone calls and did some investigative work while all of you psychos and the good doctor there were beddy-bye." Agent Hobbes picked up a small pile of bright yellow post-it notes. They were scribbled on, but they were legible, Darien could see, as his partner handed them over.

"I called a friend who never sleeps and he was good enough to do some hack work for me on the QT quick."

"What is this?" Darien held them up, facing outwards. "You know a hacker? Woah."

"That, my friend, is a set of file numbers associated with our Miss Mysterious Gung-Ho Agent upstairs. Her service number is still listed in CIA records. Now, my friend didn’t cough up much on her quickly, only that she is what she seems. In the service record that was accessible, this chick never misses her mark. She's the stuff that snipers and spies' wet dream over, kid. Nothing on her personal life, though. Nothing on how long she worked for the government period, either, just the date of her disappearance." Hobbes drank from his own cup and nodded at the notes Darien was flipping through as he swallowed and then went on speaking.

"That says she's received medals of honor for her work in government liason and diplomatic service. Smart woman. Her records are sealed or gone, but what he found is there, based on that number on the back of her picture." His partner grinned and refilled his own cup of coffee from the black thermos.

"You did some serious work last night, Hobbes. I'm impressed. Man, I'm more than impressed---" Darien looked up at him and grinned, unable to believe what he had been given here to work with.

"Alright, pal, don't cream your shorts, okay? I didn't do the hack work, I just had the number he needed and an idea of where to look. I was right about that---she's listed, get this---not under missing persons or wanted for murder in the line of duty, but under a science project heading, just like you. She’s also listed as being an active duty kite agent for the CIA. You believe that? " Hobbes turned his head and turned up the sound on the TV. It would soon be time for everyone to be rising, if the day was going to start.

"Science project that’s been working incog for the government all this time, huh?" Darien cocked his head and then went back to reading the post-it notes fast, his eyes searching for something that might explain the woman to him better. "Agent Mackenzie volunteered for gerbil work at some point---has to be part of the secret stuff..."

His partner was watching the television screen intently. Darien stared at Hobbes and wondered what else the man had learned that wasn't in the notes. He was boggled by the information he'd been given in only a few moments, within only minutes of waking.

Harmony must have been something at ten. Jessica, at eight, was saavy and neat to hang out with as a friend, for a kid. A ten-year-old Harmony Corwin, when not schizo from imbalance, would have probably been just as cool. Kevin must have gotten a lot of kicks out of her.

On the screen, Ciara Mackenzie rose and moved, only dressed in a tee shirt, towards the bathroom. Her face was sleepy and pale in the camera's range. Darien looked up and watched as she shut the door.

"You won't believe what you missed last night after you fell asleep, my friend." Hobbes turned back to him, rotating on the stool. His grin was sly and knowing.

"What went down---did one of them reveal something that could be of use to us? Did anything happen?" Darien stuffed the yellow sticky pages in his jacket pocket and scooted up off the floor onto his own seat. He drank heavily of the coffee, thankful that Hobbes had gone hunting for information and caffeine.

Before Hobbes answered, he saw on the screen, a body turned on the bed. The Keeper moved closer to the body of the smaller woman, Harmony, and laid her arm across the slightly smaller torso, holding her close. Both seemed to be still very much asleep.

"Cozy." He raised an eyebrow and smiled softly. It certainly more angles of the Keeper than he'd thought he'd ever get to see.

"You think that's something, son? That's nothing. I think the Official’s up to his fat face in this mess---more than what he’s said. And what I've got on tape would sell as high-class amateur porn." Hobbes patted a tape that laid to the side and his serious expression was ruined by the laughter in his eyes.

"What the hell went down, Hobbes? Are you saying they got it on?" Darien reached for the thermos and eyed the tape his partner now caressed with his short fingers.

"I'd say so. Doctor Ice-Cold and Agent Mysterious on the couch in front of the camera."

"Wow." Darien refilled his cup, amused and curious, and set it on the table. "Definitely have to make sure that tape doesn't fall into the wrong hands now, won't we?"

The shower was running. Their subject, the supposedly AWOL agent was getting clean and ready for a day of doing whatever it was she had planned.

"Hey---look." His partner nodded at the screen and Darien looked up in time to see his Keeper rise and make her way to the kitchen, slightly off-camera, dressed in an extra-large tee shirt that hid everything. She banged around and a muffled curse was heard as something hit the floor. "She's clumsy in the mornings."

Watching the screen, they saw her come back into the picture. She put on the clothes she'd worn the night before and settle down on the couch to leaf through some papers that now laid on the coffee table. Unable to make out what was on them, Darien settled for memorizing the way she slouched, at ease, unknowingly revealing her soft side to the camera.

Her hair fell across her forehead and on her cheeks softly. The Keeper was a gorgeous woman---and somehow he wasn't surprised to find out that she and Ciara Mackenzie was an item of sorts. If that was true, why had he assumed, in his mind, that Harmony Corwin was the missing agent's lover?

More to the Keeper-Kept relationship he had to figure out and it was too early for this much information.

"Are we going to leave, so we can get cleaned up and go to the office? I seriously need a shower."

Off camera, a door opened. Both agents looked back to the monitor. Ciara Mackenzie, in the freckled glory that nature had bestowed on her, moved across the room. She came to stand behind the Keeper, who didn't look up from her papers.

Hobbes whistled low in his throat and Darien wondered how his luck was so bad that he'd managed to miss last night's action.

"Look at this sequence, Ciara. You see that? That means Kevin was ready to begin testing the new serum---and he waited. Why?"

The Keeper's voice, so far from the camera, sounded tinny and excited. Her companion said nothing at first. The tall, naked, wet women looked over her shoulder at the sleeping girlish form in the bed and then back to the sheaf of readout that Darien's Keeper was reading through.

"I don't know. Maybe he couldn't get the backing he needed, a stor. Kevin, after the fiasco with the escape, was a lot more careful with who he dealt with...but not careful enough."

The Keeper rose and went off-camera and the bathroom door closed again. Ciara Mackenzie watched her leave and then smiled slowly, darkly, as she came around the table and the couch to stop before the chair where the hidden bug was located.

Crouching naked in front of the chair, the agent continued to smile.

"Good morning, boys. You wanna come up for breakfast and some coffee?"

Cursing, Hobbes rubbed his forehead. "She's found the mother-lovin' bug!"

"I think she knew it was there all along, buddy." Darien leaned forward on his knees again and stared into the face that smiled crookedly into the monitor. "Last night was a deliberate thing on her part---maybe our friend in the lab coat didn't know."

"Did you enjoy the show?" Her words proved her beforehand knowledge of the camera. She blew a kiss at the screen and got up, moving away.

The two agents watched as she moved to the bed and gently shook Harmony awake. The girl sat up, her hair tangled, and yawned hugely. She reached for her glasses where they sat on the night table. With them on, she looked like an owl, blinking against the morning light.

Darien couldn't help but chuckle out loud. It felt crazy to watch three women go through morning rituals---and this one was actually the most fascinating. What did she think about, when she was feeling normal and like everyone else? What was she feeling this morning, after having been given her shot of the night before? Did she ever hope that the people involved, including Kevin Fawkes, rotted in hell for doing this to her?

She was naked as she got up and trailed the bed's sheets after her, making her way across the floor. He could see the bruises he'd left inadvertently on her body, trying to fight her off. A twinge of guilt went through him; she was really just a kid inside a young adult's body. A ten-year-old grown up.

Whatever they'd done to her genetically, it had arrested her development emotionally. She was amazingly good with the mask of a twenty-year old businesswoman who was exceptionally intelligent when it came to computers, but it was so painfully obvious in this moment that she was really a kid inside a woman's body.

Darien looked away from her as she made her way across the floor. While he'd been interested mildly in seeing what the Keeper looked like without clothing and Ciara Mackenzie's tight, muscular body, wet and naked, had actually made him wish he'd been awake to see her in action on the couch---to watch Harmony Corwin as she moved, half-asleep and mostly nude, towards the kitchen in search of what was probably coffee, seemed like a crime against a little kid.

He noticed Hobbes hadn't looked away; well, he'd stopped staring after a few seconds. His partner seemed to pick up the knowledge on his own that it was a horrible thing to stare at the kid.

The Keeper had come out of the bathroom, washed up, but still looking rumpled. Darien guessed that she'd leave in a few minutes and go to her place to get ready for the day.

Ciara had gone about dressing out of sight, in what seemed to be a closet. Now, she came out, dressed in another men's business suit that had been tailored to fit her slender frame. She looked as dangerous as she was with her wet hair now pulled up in a French twist at the back of her head, which accented the length of her face and the height of her cheekbones.

In the background, the telephone was being used. The Keeper's voice, speaking in a professional manner, told someone that she was running a little late; she'd been in later. She'd called the office.

Off screen, Harmony's voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

"Do you think 'Mr. Kevin Roberts' will still want his book? Maybe I should have the order stopped and his money returned to him." The woman was talking about him. Darien drank his coffee and listened, smiling.

"No, a stor, let it go through. I'm sure he will want it. Warn him, though, when he comes for it to be careful with Tantra. Some of those massage positions are deceptively simple-looking, as you know. You can get hurt doing them or hurt your partner."

Ciara had come back to sit on the couch with a cup of coffee and she briefly glanced at the camera, a smile playing in her pale gray eyes.

"Hey, hotshot, now you wanna tell me what Tantra is?" Hobbes cocked his head sideways to look at him sourly.

"Not now, Hobbes. Watch. She's waiting for the Keeper to leave, but she's got more to say to us---" Darien watched the tall woman in the men's clothing and smiled back at her, amazed by her brass. She was a cool customer and if she was what the record stated she was, then she was on the level. Most people didn't change their nature overnight or even in ten years. Not really. Once a thief, always a thief; once a level agent, always a level agent.

If she had feelings for either of the women that were in that apartment with her in that moment, then Hobbes and Darien were safe---she had too much invested in their well-being to screw around with the Keeper's job and Harmony Corwin's welfare rode on the agents going into that party and getting close to the Congressman, to Arnaud, to the other parties involved.

"I've got to go now, Ciara. I'll be back after four today, but if something comes up I'll call you. Be sure to play nice with the boys if they get here before me." The Keeper's voice was still off-camera.

"I'll walk you down." The younger woman, Harmony, had moved past the camera and pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that had some print on it. She moved away from the camera again, headed towards the stairs.

Once her two female compatriots were gone, Ciara moved fast.

"Whoa, whoa---what's she doing now?" Hobbes moved closer and stared at the screen, his brow creased in concentration.

There was a sound of something being moved across bricks and then Darien heard the unmistakable sound of a safe's tumbler's turning. There was the sound of the door opening; its metallic chuh-chunk noise was as familiar to the ex-con agent as the sound of his own heartbeat.

Ciara Mackenzie came back and squatted in front of the camera again. Her own face was as serious-looking as Hobbes'.

"Boys, I need you to do me a favor. I've been on the level with you. You gotta tell the Official everything---get me? Tell him the truth about why we need those tickets. Don't lie if you will get nowhere with it, okay? Charlie Borden knows about what’s going on. If something happens and you make it out alive, it won't reflect on your careers if you tell them the truth. We have to make sure we have back up for tonight. These people aren't to be fucked with. Look at this."

She held a piece of paper up to the camera's mini-scope. It was an outlined program that had a few signatures on it.

"Now, if you're who I think you are, Agent Hobbes, you are taping this. You now have evidence that I gave this to you of my own free will and this is proof of what we talked about. Use it if you need to, to prove what we need to do. Listen to me."

The paper never wavered.

"If something goes wrong, this tape is evidence that will exist about what we were after. If we fail in getting to the Congressman, you are to come and destroy the disk. I thought about this last night. If we can't handle this situation with the proper procedure required, then you are to destroy the contents of the safe in this apartment. Do not let it fall into the wrong hands."

Then, the paper moved, dropping to reveal her face, hard as stone. Agent Mackenzie's eyes were like chips of ice. "Keeper will not make any more serum for Harmony if we fail. You got me, Darien Fawkes?"

"Loud and clear..." Darien whispered to the face on the screen.

The voice went on. "We will not discuss this in front of the Keeper or Harmony. These requests can stand as orders, if you like, and they are not open to negotiation."

She blinked at the screen and then rose, disappearing out of sight. The safe was closed and the sound of bricks being scraped came and went.

Silence. She never reappeared.

"What the hell is that about, huh?" Hobbes groaned, staring at the monitor.

"She just gave us the orders we should've been able to get last night. She wanted us to know she was on the level first---but not in front of them." Darien smacked his fists together in thought and picked up his styrofoam cup and drank from it, speculating.

"Fawkes, she just told us that if it goes down wrong, that we're supposed to find that safe and destroy the evidence." His partner's eyes narrowed. "And if I'm not mistaken, she also gave you the order to kill Harmony."

"She did. If we can't do this job tonight, then Harmony's life is forfeit anyway." Darien put his head in his hands and sighed. "It would be better if someone who understood---someone Harmony trusts---did the dirty work."

"You think she trusts you? The kid's crazy with all that crap in her body." The older agent looked dubious.

"She thinks I'm kinda like Kevin and they were very close. She knows that the Keeper believes I'm trustworthy. Yeh." Darien looked up and met his partner's eyes. "She trusts me like she trusts them. I just don't know if I can trust ‘her’."

There was silence for a few moments, then Darien sighed and broke the gaze. "We really need to go---I need to see the Keeper."

"We just saw her." Hobbes was staring into his cup, swishing the cooling coffee around in the Styrofoam.

A knock came on the back of the van. Both agents jumped at the same time and looked at each other again before swinging their eyes to the door.

"It's me, Darien."

The Keeper. Darien sighed and settled back on his stool. His heart beat fast and he watched Hobbes move to open the door for the blonde woman who had been living a very different sort of life than either of them had suspected.

Unable to resist a smirk, the older agent let her in and then moved to sit back down on his seat. His hand rested on the unlabeled videotape that lay on the counter.

"Darien, Hobbes...I want to apologize up front to both of you for what you're getting yourselves into." The Keeper crouched next to the counter where the soundboard sat. "She's still an agent even if she's off Agency payroll and out of sight."

"Hell of a patriotic attitude---cold as ice, ain't she?" Darien refilled his cup again and offered it to the woman who shook her head at it.

"She has to be, mate. When she works, it is usually suicide missions for an elite combat force of the CIA." The Keeper's words took a moment to sink in; when they did, Hobbes' eyes widened and a pleased grin crept across his face to replace the smirk.

"That's where I know her from---she’s in the Black Dog Squad. I never met her, but yesterday, I thought her attitude was awfully familiar. That bunch are kinda legendary, you know? Nerves of steel, nine lives kinda thing."

"Something like that, yes." The Keeper met his partner's eyes and the smile was as mysterious as the one her lover had worn the night before during their conversation.

Then, she was all business again, with a doctor's worried expression. "Look, Darien, if you're going to go through with this tonight, you have to know what will happen if you use the gland in public. It's not only exposure you need to consider, but the madness."

"I'll try to not use it, okay? Make you feel better?" Darien smiled at her, trying to banish the vision of her half-dressed walking through the camera's range.

"She's on the level with you, but you could be walking into a trap there. The people you're looking for are just as smart as the three of you are and they will expect someone to show up...they have to." The Keeper frowned, her pouty full mouth stretched downward.

"Well, we will just have to think smarter than they think we are thinking they are." Hobbes shifted on his stool, using a hand to sweep the black videotape away, under a pile of papers that lay in front of him.

Darien looked at him, puzzled. Noise blasting---loud rock music---from the monitor brought his attention quickly back to the screen. The Keeper looked up.

On the screen, they watched as Harmony Corwin scooted into the scene again, dancing away to the driving beat of Falco's "Tango The Night Away". The girl, who whirled in a tango move and sashayed across the open floor with a psuedo-serious frown on her young, big-eyed face, grabbed Ciara Mackenzie, who’d been making the bed at the moment.

Behind her glasses, she looked like she was deadly serious in the moment, dancing with her Keeper. A closer look showed the grin that threatened to break out on her features. Ciara's face was split in a wide smile as she laughed a deep chuckle, spinning out of the grip of her young charge.

As the song went on, the girlish woman danced on her own, moving around the floor in a strange pattern. Darien fought peals of laughter at her antics, biting on his lip, and turned to ask his Keeper if Harmony had always been like that---only to see her face pale and angry-seeming.

"You taped the whole night?" Her voice was slow, careful with the words. She stared at Hobbes with a strange emotion in her eyes.

"Hey, lady, we're on stake-out here. Of course, I taped the whole night." His partner was defensive, crossing his arms in front of him in a self-protective gesture.

"Did you edit----" She didn't finish.

"Yes, ma'am, I did. Kid here slept all night and I cut your performance out."

Her face, so pale before, went up in flames. Darien looked from her to Hobbes and wondered how to defuse this situation. It was all a matter of trust.

"Give her the edited stuff, Hobbes."

"What? Are you kidding?" Meeting his gaze, Hobbes looked upset, too.

"Give her the tape." Darien reached and took the tape out from under the pile of papers. He put it in her hand and frowned. "What we have left is of you in your shirt this morning. That okay?"

The Keeper sighed. "Regardless of whether it is or not, it's evidence of my being there, now."

Darien took a drink of the coffee he'd set down and looked at Hobbes, who was calming down; it had been too good to be a lasting thing.

"Look---I need to get back to my place and get cleaned up. Are we leaving or not?" He broke the uncomfortable silence.

"I think we should stay here as long as possible." Hobbes turned back to study the monitor, where Harmony had gone on, getting ready for her day in the book store, moving in a funky rhythm.

"Well, why don't I get out of here and go on? I could tell the Official what we need and come back here as soon as possible." Darien studied his partner, watching for the unspoken knowledge that he'd be forgiven for giving up the tape to the Keeper. It wasn't forthcoming yet.

"I could take you to your apartment, Darien, and that way Hobbes could remain here if he wants to---my car is in the lot across from the store." The Keeper had already let the matter of the tape drop. Except for the evidence in her hand, it was forgotten.

"Works for me." Darien slapped his partner on the shoulder and grinned at the raised eyebrow from Hobbes that was the telling expression that his partner was going to let the tape go unspoken for between them. Everything was fine now.

"What---you think it's cool to leave one man on the job?" The older agent's expression of doubt followed so fast that the small forgiving look seemed to have never been there at all.

"I think you're safe, Agent Hobbes. I would guess that Ciara Mackenzie knows you're here." The Keeper got up from her position then.

"She does." Hobbes acknowledged. "Real smart cookie, that one."

"She'll protect you." And then, the door was opened carefully, and Darien went with his Keeper to prepare for facing the Official.

@@@

Chapter 14:

Telling the story of what had gone down the evening and night before, Darien left out the little, dirty details. The Official didn't seem to be bothered by the tiny fishnet holes in the account. What he'd heard was enough to drag his mind from even considering the details...at least, it seemed that way.

"And so, now, we have an opportunity to stop the people who are really behind the entire thing in the first place." He finished, having been as honest as he could without compromising the secrets of the Keeper's real involvement as well as the fact that he believed most of what he'd been told by Ciara Mackenzie. He also left out the detail of Ciara going to the Hotel Rimbaud with the agents in pursuit of Congressman Edgeley.

He didn't know why he believed the story, but he had a quick, intuitive knowledge of what deceit looked like most of the time and the mysterious Agent Mackenzie had been sincere in her approach to the truth she'd told about her involvement.

He watched as the expression on his boss' face changed from a listening silence to an amusement that came with a chuckle.

"What you're saying is that ex-Agent Mackenzie wants to cut a deal with the Agency in order to save her skin."

"Something like that." Darien, smiling, settled back into his seat, hearing the sound of the legs creak under him. He'd been able to get home and cleaned up and come to the Agency's office in the Federal Annex by way of the barely-running car he drove when not with Agent Hobbes.

"And what does Hobbes think about this development?" The Official's eyes were narrowed in concentration. There were gears turning behind their rheumy blueness that spoke of years of making deals and keeping running tabs on who owed debts to which person.

Darien thought for a moment about the way Hobbes had sat all night, or most of the night, watching the screen as three women slept in the same bed; his dedication was a little daunting.

It was the notes he carried in his pocket---written on yellow sticky paper in his partner's scrawl---that really had him puzzled. They were detailed and pretty damning evidence of something rotten in Denmark where the supposedly AWOL agent was concerned.

He had to find out where Hobbes kept his resourceful friend who never slept and who could hack Agency computers as good as Harmony Corwin, Neon Blue, was rumored to be able to, when she tried to do so without leaving fingerprints.

"Agent Hobbes believes we stand a good chance of getting some dirt on this political pig---he expressed an interest in going to the Hotel Rimbaud." Darien picked at a loose thread on his shirttail and thought again about the details he'd concealed.

"He does...and he is still back at the book store, on surveillance?"

The Official's words made Darien Fawkes look up.

"Yes. He's concerned about a double-cross, but he thinks the plans Agent Mackenzie suggested are good ones---"

"Eberts, bring the file on Edgeley." The Official interrupted him and Darien watched as the assistant left the office, moving quickly.

"The pictures you took of the pages in that binder at the bookstore are lists of codes. We can't break the code. It would appear to be something created by the perpetrators and dealing with either the hacking end of the work they've done or with the whereabouts of Arnaud." The large man shifted in his seat, using a finger to sift through some loose papers in front of him.

In just moments, Eberts returned with a folder that was nearly as thick as most paperback novels. He handed it to Darien and then went back to his post at the corner of the large, wooden desk

Opening the folder, the agent was confronted with a picture of a white-haired man with a face that suggested he'd just bitten into something distasteful.

Darien looked up at the Official as the man stared at him. Their eyes met.

"I wanna know something---why didn't you tell us that Agent Mackenzie would guess we were watching her?" He didn't look down as he flipped the folder shut. He could read later; right now, he had to know why they'd been sent out there to deal with a deadly agent who had done assassin work during most of her nearly-anonymous career for the Justice Department.

"Kid, I had to put you to work on this. We sent you and your partner because of the particulars of the case. She and Hobbes are much alike, aren't they? Think alike?" The man's hands had steepled over his desk in a solemn manner. He broke the bright gaze long enough to look at Eberts.

"Call the agent in charge of security for the little get together at the Hotel Rimbaud tonight. It's Chaplain's job." He looked back at Darien as he went on. "Tell him I have three agents who need to be at the party as security to observe and possibly detain a wanted criminal on the quiet."

Darien's mouth dropped open in surprise and he started to say something, only to be cut off.

"You didn't think I knew that Agent Mackenzie was going to be there? Believe me, I knew." The Official's smile was sly. "If there's a chance that serious repercussions resulting in possible death could be involved, she wouldn't want to send you in alone."

Eberts picked up the phone and made the call.

"Yeh, she and Hobbes think alike---they're both paranoid as hell." Snuffing his shock, Darien Fawkes rubbed his hands across the cover of the folder he held. "Why me? Is it because of Harmony's involvement? Did you suspect that I'd see the importance of her relationship in this assignment?"

Nodding, the Official's smile never faded. "We knew that you'd get closer and discover the truth behind her---did they tell you what she is and how she does it?"

"Some of it, yeh." Darien admitted, keeping the rest of the secret to himself again. If the bastards behind the Agency could keep secrets, why couldn't he? They'd sent him out, knowing he'd go in, possibly getting killed in the process.

"Her situation was...unfortunate." Still, the expression on the heavy face remained the same.

"Unfortunate? She was genetically altered." He could feel some anger coming now, at the fresh memory of what he'd been told, but he worked on keeping his voice calm. "Folded, spindled, mutilated---all done when she couldn't say no. When she was deemed a liability, her case was stamped red and she was condemned to execution by a committee."

"Agent Fawkes, she had her hands around your neck last night. It seems she nearly managed to kill you." The Official's voice was flat as he verbally acknowledged the bruises on Darien's throat and face. "Imagine what might have happened if she'd been out of control. From what you say, she still obeys Agent Mackenzie."

"Yeh, she called the woman her Keeper." Darien admitted, clenching his hands tight against his thighs, in order to keep his front of being calm.

He'd not told the Official where the serum was coming from, leaving his own Keeper out of it as much as possible...but when it was all over and the tapes were observed, the lie would come out. He only hoped it was a gamble worth taking, and if not, that he'd die before the con was discovered. If things went wrong at the Hotel Rimbaud---if their man had people with him that were good at their jobs---then he might be dead before midnight.

The Official smiled again, his eyes focused like a laser on Darien. "Ciara Mackenzie, in her history as an agent, was one of the best. Despite her being a wanted killer, her assistance in this matter should be more than useful."

His boss said nothing about the fact that Ciara was still listed as a kite agent for the CIA.

One of the large hands moved over the desk and picked up the phone from its cradle. He dialed a number that was written down on some paper on the desk and then looked back to Darien, his eyes never flickering, as he put the receiver to his ear.

"Hello, Harmony. Yes, may I speak to Ciara Mackenzie?" Silence for a moment. He never blinked; his gaze like that of a snake as he met Darien's stare head on.

"Agent Mackenzie. This is----" A momentary flash of high amusement went over the pasty face. "Yes, the Official. I would like you to come have a meeting with Agent Fawkes and myself."

There was more silence for a moment and then another chuckle, deep and husky, rolled out of the amused Official. "Yes, I think you probably should bring him with you. Sans handcuffs, please. Agent Hobbes tends to take these things as personal insult. He might----yes."

Darien wondered at the friendly tone of the man who'd ordered him only yesterday that if necessary, he was to kill Harmony Corwin. It was definitely an unusual situation and one that he found himself wondering at, desiring the rest of the answers he wanted to the questions that had been eating at him since it had begun only twenty-four hours ago.

The man behind the desk chuckled again and hung up the phone. The Official wiped at his watery eyes with the back of a hand before sighing loudly and turning his full attention back on Darien.

"What was that last part all about?" His curiosity was up; he could figure, by context of the conversation, what had been said on Ciara Mackenzie's end concerning Hobbes. The last, though, had not been responded to---and it made him wonder if the joke was on him and his partner again.

The Official didn't blink. "She asked me, of course, what had taken me so long to call her back to work."

@@@

Suppressing the questions that came to his mind concerning what his brother had been involved. Kevin had known both girls, it seemed. He'd jogged down to see the Keeper. The lab was cool, quiet, and still except for the figure bent over a microscope.

One hand moved a pen over a clipboard, making unseen notes.

"Our 'friend' is going to be here in just a few minutes with Hobbes." Darien spoke as he flopped down on the edge of a metal table, swinging one leg freely.

"I wondered if she would do so." The Keeper didn't look up.

Darien glanced around at the brick walls and the stainless steel; it was so familiar to him now that he saw it occasionally in his dreams...and his nightmares.

"Is there something else, Darien?" She continued to look into the microscope and the hand continued to push the pen, making notes on what was spotted in the lit slide that rested on the feet of the microscope.

"Only to ask you what you did with the tape." He couldn't resist his nudging the subject.

"I would think that the tape was none of your business." It was cold and briskly said.

"It's evidence we are suppressing about your involvement in this case. You wanna tell me how long the two of you were lovers before she disappeared----or did she completely disappear?" Darien let his leg swing as he studied the Keeper's straight-backed stance at the counter.

"Again, that's none of your business." It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been before. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at him, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Would you like to see what the bonded hormones’ saturation look like in the bloodstream?"

"Hey, it's all about trust, right? How do I know I can trust any of you?" Darien raked a hand through his hair, recently dried, and stepped down off the steel table. He walked to where she stood and stepped into her place at the microscope.

Peering down into it, he saw what he could identify as blood cells highly magnified. They looked kind of like little cheerios in thin syrup. Each one had a faint nimbus of changing color to their outer edge; color that shifted even as he was watching. The cells were dying, after having been out of the body's circulation for so long, but they retained the color.

"Tell me what I'm seeing here." The few times he'd shown any interest in Kevin's work, he'd gotten more than he bargained for---either by way of explanation or by being involved in it. He was already involved in this, so he might as well have the explanation.

"You are looking at cells that are going through a chemical change, due to the alterations made to Harmony as a child. The genetically altered quicksilver wasn't added until she entered puberty, but her DNA was altered in such a way that it absorbed the added chemical and found ways to create a very close genetic match, on its own. The faint shade of color you see is the visible effect of such a change."

The Keeper's explanation made sense to him. One thing, though----

"If this blood was taken just before it was brought here last night, then she was already going into madness. What does it look like when she completely flips out?"

"The cells you see would be completely saturated by the shading color, meaning that the concentration of build-up completely takes over her ability to function. She becomes physically ill."

She stood close to him, with her hand on the clipboard and went on at his nod.

"She begins to throw up and choke on blood, coming with the erratic emotional and mental state often seen in such cases. It's like your quicksilver madness in that she cannot easily control herself in that time, but there the similarities end. She can stay invisible indefinitely and have little side effects from it, but she needs the serum at regulated intervals during her body's hormonal cycle or she will die."

Darien looked up at her then, studying her features. She had her lower lip caught between her teeth and the serious expression made him realize how very emotionally tied she must be to the subject to be keeping her professional mask in place so tightly.

"Harmony cannot be administered a higher concentration of the serum due to immunity conditions—-a vital component is missing from the mixture as it has been administered since her return to the States. She will become immune to it the way we know you might become immune to the counteragent. Instead, I seek to find a way to inhibit how fast her system breaks down the serum."

Darien turned and put his hip against the counter and folded his arms. "And you think bringing her here and running tests will enable you to take a guess at what would work best."

"I will not guess on this. Too much guess work has already been done on Harmony. I need time to study her and tonight, I will initiate the tests required." The Keeper's voice was muffled briefly as she turned and took the slide off the microscope, exchanging it for a blank, clear one.

The Keeper turned then and injected what looked like a thick blue liquid into a small, closed vial that held only a tiny amount of the blood. Darien watched as she rotated the vial, mixing the contents, and then used a syringe to draw off a bead of the blood.

She applied it to the blank slide and peered into it.

"Harmony doesn't trust Agent Mackenzie completely." It was something he'd been thinking about since he'd seen the young woman fall asleep so easily at the knee of the Keeper. She had shown such trust and contentment at the touch of the woman who held his life in her hands, but the relationship with the agent she'd been living with for ten years wasn't nearly as concrete.

"She trusts Ciara, but there have been recent upheavals in Harmony’s life that make it difficult for her to trust anyone." The hand began moving over the clipboard again, taking notes.

"You doped her up and she fell asleep on you." Darien didn't move from his position.

"She is a child internally. Uncomplicated in most ways. She trusted me to keep her safe while she rested in front of strangers---you and Agent Hobbes. Do you believe you are capable of that same trust in your Keeper?" Her face lifted only a few inches, to peer at him in the bright light cast by the microscope, her eyes showing the speculation.

"I'm not a child inside."

"Be careful, Darien. You sound jaded." It was serious, but he heard the humor in her words and grinned, shifting his footing.

The woman went on. "Be careful with Ciara Mackenzie, as well. Like Harmony, she's dangerous and her notions of justice are far more primitive than you can imagine."

"I'll watch my step with her." He was sure that being careful was the best policy with the female agent who'd shown her resourcefulness by knowing that the camera had been planted...probably at the exact second it was put there. "What's the story behind her?"

"I can't say---most of what I know is classified. I suspect your brother knew more than anyone else, though---he had her complete trust and that is difficult to come by with an agent of her caliber. She had his trust, as well." She'd gone back to her microscope and notes.

"If Kevin trusted her, does that mean I should?" He didn't know how to step around the subject of placing his partner's life, as well as his own, in the woman's hands---she'd been their suspect only twelve hours ago and he wondered if she might not still be entangled further in the trouble.

"Not necessarily, but she is trustworthy." The Keeper raised her head and pinned him with a knowing look. "Just be honest with her and she'll make sure you have a chance of living to complete your assignment."

@@@

Their footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway from where he stood at the window in the office. No voices, only footsteps.

When they entered the room, he didn't turn. He could picture the look of confusion on Hobbes' face. He probably had been taken from the van, protesting, and not been told what was going on. Having been at the window for some time, Darien had not seen the van's approach, but the sleek, black motorcycle with two figures on it, had passed only minutes before.

Ciara Mackenzie would probably be all business---he'd watched their approach on the sidewalk. She'd changed back into the dangerous-looking leather. Darien was beginning to associate her mentally with the image he'd had of her from yesterday, when she'd showed up at the book store, The Neon Silence, dressed in the form-fitting black rider's outfit.

"Good to see you, old friend." Her voice brought him back into focus completely. Darien turned and saw that she and Bobby Hobbes were side by side at the desk. The tall woman stood head and nearly shoulders over the short, balding agent in his charcoal grey suit. Ciara Mackenzie was shaking hands with his boss, the Official.

Darien moved to completely turn around and watch. Hobbes' confusion was written all over his face, but the man was trying to keep it cool, to mask it, to not look foolish.

"You two know each other?" Bobby Hobbes didn't exactly sound relieved.

"We've worked many times together before, Agent Hobbes." The Official's words were warm. Darien looked at Eberts, whose eyes were rather large at the moment, watching the woman as she stepped backwards and used her foot to snag one of the chairs. She drew it closer to the desk and sat down.

Darien grinned broadly where he stood, watching her put one booted foot up on the edge of the wooden surface, much to Eberts' and Hobbes' surprise. Only he and the Official weren't fazed by the gesture of blatant disrespect for the office and the Agency.

Bobby Hobbes, looking rumpled and tired, sat down as well, having decided that lightening wasn't going to strike the brassy woman.

"Now, Agent Mackenzie, as your reputation and my personal knowledge of your abilities proceeds you, I believe you can tell me again what Agent Fawkes briefed me on earlier."

The Official's voice was not condescending, but came across as genuinely friendly---or at least as friendly as Darien had ever heard it.

"Don't flatter me, Charlie. You know where flattery gets with me. My service record isn't what's important here. They both have a good idea of what I'm capable of, don't you, Hobbes?"

Darien watched as his partner's eyes darted from the woman who sat beside him to the face of the Official and then to the floor. He wondered what that was about...maybe Hobbes hadn't wanted to come along; he might have believed it was the trap he'd been waiting for. But then, if Hobbes had believed in the trap, then Ciara Mackenzie would have a bullet hole in her now. She looked fine.

He made a note to himself to ask Bobby Hobbes about that later.

The Official's eyebrows rose. Eberts flushed.

Darien felt like laughing...except the look on his partner's lowered face wasn't very funny.

"Ciara, you've been given the same clearance that Agents Hobbes and Fawkes have for the Hotel Rimbaud tonight. I want to know what you intend to do with it."

The tense sensation of the room preparing to implode had been growing from the moment that the two agents had walked in. He realized that it was Ciara's presence. As comfortable and pleasant as she'd been to talk to last night, despite the knowledge that she could kill him as easily as her Kept friend, now the air around her generated a cold, smooth sensation that was like being in the room with a giant cat or a poisonous snake.

There was bad blood here. The Official and Ciara Mackenzie were not really close friends and probably had never been. Enemies would be closer to the truth and yet----they were definitely fighting on the same team, it seemed.

"I thought I might get close to Edgeley in the hopes that he might let something slip to a certain invisible ear. I believe I may have just the right angle to play that will finally give us something to make a case against the bastard. How's that sound to you?"

Her voice never rose or changed in inflection. Darien found himself slowly moving around the room, along the back, coming at last to stand at Hobbes' side. He could see her face now, as well as the down-turned, mildly upset expression his partner wore.

"Agent Mackenzie was never fond of politicians." The Official spoke to them all and Darien watched as the crooked, sideways smile crept onto her face.

"Well, the dirty knows the filthy, right? What do I get if I play ball in your court?"

Eberts moved then, causing Darien to look up at him, expecting the pudgy assistant to speak. Nothing was forthcoming. Instead, the words came from the boss.

"If you let him live long enough to be prosecuted, you will receive a full pardon." It sounded delicious the way the Official said it, as if it were the greatest thing in the world.

"Uh-huh. Why do I think you're feeding me the same old line of shit?" One eyebrow had crept upwards on the still-smiling face. The tension had built to a crescendo in the office. Any moment now, Darien thought---any moment now and the windows will blow.

"You will receive your pardon and be allowed to live your life in peace." The words had an edge to them, suggesting that nothing else would be forthcoming.

"What if she can give you Arnaud, as well?" Darien spoke up, looking at the Official. Someone had to defuse the bomb and soon.

He glanced at the woman who had shifted her stare from her old boss to him; they were like gun barrels in color and just as cold.

"If she can give us Arnaud, she can have, without strings, the secret he's with-holding. But this is something we’ve discussed, isn’t it, Ciara?"

"Uh-huh." The smile changed and became sharp, swinging back around to face the Official. "Now why didn't I think of that? Because I've tried to find him in the last month and can't? If I can't find the asshole, he isn't to be found."

"You will think of something, I'm sure." The Official smiled, now on familiar ground with an agent over the barrel.

Darien felt a twinge of concern---the Keeper had warned him not to play dirty with the woman and the Official was doing just that.

"I have made up my mind to bring them both to justice and you're seeking the same for the crimes they've committed." Ciara Mackenzie ducked her head momentarily, her loose hair falling around the high, freckled cheekbones. As she looked back up, the determination of last night was back in place. "If justice is to be served, they both must be caught, as well as their associate."

It made him remember suddenly the young woman who required that withheld secret to her survival---Kevin's work might hold the key to bringing a new balance for Harmony.

"Now, wait a minute----" His partner, though, beat him to the punch with the same thought, speaking loudly. "You're not so sure that Arnaud has the missing pieces of the puzzle. What if he refuses to give up what he has got?"

"He'll give up the complete formula----trust me." Her smile was dark and forbidding as she turned her pale eyes on Hobbes. "I want to help Harmony and I want to avenge Kevin Fawkes, but more than that...Arnaud is a self-serving little prick who deserves to find out the secret behind this agent."

@@@

Chapter 15:

"Do you think your buddy who never sleeps could find out something more for us?"

He'd waited in the car while Hobbes ran into his place and got cleaned up. Now, they had eaten and were headed back to the bookstore; it was nearly five in the evening.

"Sure, don't see why not---why, what do you want to know?" Darien had let Hobbes drive the car from the Agency. His partner seemed to be still on edge, but he was driving more carefully this time, watching the younger agent out of the corner of his eye.

"I was wondering if maybe we could find out what Agent Mackenzie is by tracing her relationship to the Chameleon Project. She was some kind of a test subject for it at one point." Darien Fawkes was leafing through the yellow post-it notes again, trying to find the hint he needed to figure out Ciara Mackenzie's angle.

It was obvious that she and the Official didn't have any love lost between them, yet she was willing to go through the Agency to make this case against the Congressman, which meant she was determined to get both Edgeley and Arnaud.

And there was the funny feeling he had that said the boss knew more than he was saying---that he’d been planning the whole thing from the beginning.

"Yeh, kid, you might have something there. I'll make the call." His partner didn't seem exactly hyped on the idea; instead, Hobbes was distracted.

Darien remembered how he'd looked coming into the office with Agent Mackenzie and the expression of desperate worry on his face. He'd been on edge.

"Did you remember to take the pills?" It had become customary to check each other when things didn't seem right. It was nothing more than what Hobbes would have done for him, if he thought the quicksilver levels had risen in Darien Fawkes.

"Yes..." Hobbes seemed mildly offended this time. "I remembered to take my pill."

"Sorry. You just seem edgy. That's all. What did she do to you, buddy?" There, he'd broached the subject that had been on his mind since they'd had the meeting in the boss' office.

"Why? What do you think she did?" It came out with a nervous laugh.

Darien looked at Bobby Hobbes with concern. What was going on? What had the mysterious Ciara Mackenzie done to bring his partner to the Agency?

"Nothing. I think she talked to you and the two of you came in on her Harley." Darien and Hobbes has watched her leave the parking lot in silence before even getting in the dark blue car.

Even then, his partner had seemed like he'd been jumpy---his eyes had never left the black and chrome motorcycle as the female agent had left, popping a gear as she roared out onto the street.

"Yeh, well that's all that happened, Fawkes. Nothing else." Hobbes' eyes were tightly screwed onto the road.

"If you say so." Darien looked at his partner and then down at the notes.

He had his suspicions that Ciara Mackenzie had scared Hobbes; at the very least, she'd shaken up the experienced agent in some way that had been unforeseen.

"Might be helpful if we also knew about Neon Blue's other hacker activities." As he said it, he glanced up and saw the smile that played on his partner's mouth.

Suddenly, the mood had changed and Agent Bobby Hobbes was on top again, some how. He looked amazingly slick in the fresh, pressed olive-colored suit and with the smile, he didn't look nearly as tired as he should have.

"Already done, hotshot. I expect to hear about that when I call my contact back."

"Again, you take my breath away, my man." Darien grinned, wondering why he'd not thought to ask about this earlier.

"Well, you still have a lot to learn about being an agent. Learn from the master."

@@@

He watched Hobbes pull away from the curb in the dark, unmarked car, headed to the diner to make the phone call to his hacker friends.

Darien turned and walked past the motorcycle, into the shop.

Harmony was nowhere to be seen. The little curly-headed boy was back at the table in the front. As he came in the door, the child looked up and smiled.

"She's in the office, mister." Without even seeing the agent, the blind child recognized him.

"Thank you, Remy." He deliberately let the boy, who smiled bigger now; know that he knew his identity. Moving down the floor, he watched over his shoulder as the boy turned completely around in his chair and 'followed' his footsteps.

Reaching the door to the office, he saw the child close his book, lay it to the side, get up and leave, using a cane that had been laying under the table.

Now, there was no one in the store.

"Hey, did you want that book wrapped when it gets here? I can do that for you."

The voice was pleasant and friendly. He turned and stepped into the office, to find Harmony at the desk, leafing through one of the binders that contained the odd columns of numbers.

Darien looked at her for a moment before answering. She was as professional as she'd been the day before. Her glasses magnified her eyes a little and her brown hair had been pulled into a bun at the back of her neck.

She looked like a librarian, with just a few wavy strands hanging loose on her neck and at her temples. She wore a knee-length wraparound denim skirt with a man's dress shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up and the ends tucked in; it seemed to be two times too big. The black shoes she wore were like little girl's Mary janes, with the strap running across the top buckled on the side.

Harmony didn't look like the ravenous, laughing monster he'd witnessed last night and she certainly didn't look like the child she'd become, falling asleep at the Keeper's knee.

He suddenly couldn't get a grip on the knowledge that she'd nearly killed him; had spoken so softly about his brother---had turned out to be an experiment closely kin to his own.

"You don't have to wrap it. Is it here already?"

"No---I'm waiting on the delivery guy now and then I'll lock up. Where's your partner?" The way she said it took him back; it was as if she'd asked about a family member who had been expected to be with him when he showed up.

"He's taking care of some business. He'll be here in a few minutes." Darien knew he'd have to ask Hobbes for the money; he was broke now.

He sat down in the extra seat and thought about the fact that there was a tape recorder with wheels turning in the van now...everything he said would be recorded.

"What's that?" Pointing at the binder, he watched her face carefully.

"Oh, this?" She laid the blue binder up on the desk, laying it across the stacks of other binders. "A list of books by ISBN code. I find it easier to catalogue that way."

The peaches and cream skin-tone never changed, there was no hitch in her breathing, and he'd not care to bet her heart rate hadn't changed one bit. If she was lying, she didn't know it or she was the best he'd ever seen.

"Oh...I thought it might be something more interesting." She was a hacker, Darien knew, so numbers and how to remember them would be nothing to her---was there anything she couldn't learn? She was a killer who had the ability to hack into Federal databases. Brains and brawn in this little package that really looked like it belonged in college.

He wondered briefly what Kevin had thought about the child he'd saved? Had he cared for her as much as Maggie had cared for him, seeing him as family?

"Well, I actually prefer poetry and transcendentalist treatises." Her eyebrows had gone up, nearly challenging him to laugh. He swallowed the chuckle that threatened to break the surface.

"Not Stephen King? Anne Rice?" He got it out without his voice breaking with the effort to keep the humor out of the conversation.

She laughed then, tossing her head sideways as she pushed the chair back and let it roll away from the desk. The wheels' sound was the same as it had been the day before on the tape when it had been her and Ciara Mackenzie in the office alone.

"Not usually, no. I think we probably know more about horror and despair than they do. I read them when I want to forget." She got up and moved to the door of the office.

"You can go on up. Ciara's only eating dinner."

Darien waited until she'd left and then looked at the open binder. The rows of numbers were stark black type against the white paper. Picking up a book that lay on the other side, next to the computer speaker, he flipped it open and looked at the copyright page.

The number of digits were right...but that meant nothing.

Rising, he laid the book down and moved upstairs, being sure not to hit the bottom step so that it didn't make the shotgun sound.

Darien reached the top and found Ciara Mackenzie sitting with a pile of papers at the dinette table. She was working her way through a sandwich.

As she saw him, she smiled and pointed to the sandwich. "You've eaten, I assume?"

Darien moved to stand against the counter. "Yes. I'm fine. What are you reading there? Book reference numbers?"

The tall woman got up, shuffling the sheaf of papers together and handed them to him. "Look at that, Legs, and tell me that it's not a definite case against our prey."

He waited until she was seated again and looked down at the papers he held.

Perusing them one by one, he saw the information web that she'd been dealing with. Arnaud De Thiel’s name, the name of another scientist, his own brother's name in connection to the project, Congressman Edgeley's name, and others...many others, including hers. They were all there, in the black and white form of Technicolor.

Without a doubt, it was a pile of dirt that could be cleaned up.

He handed it back to her and frowned. "And I take it that if something goes wrong tonight, you want me to destroy this? Why not use it now and put these assholes away?"

"Because, if we did it now, I'd go down with the ship. I have to have my rowboat."

Ciara Mackenzie, still dressed in the black leather that she'd worn to the Agency office, got up and took the papers she held in her hands to the other side of the stairs.

Right where he had been sure it would be, from the sounds earlier, she pulled a picture away. The safe behind was a small one and he could see that it was the easy kind to crack.

"You're being shown this now because if something does go wrong, you may only have an hour to get back here and get this before that little parasite Jonathan arrives with some goons. Not enough time for even you to raid this thing, Agent Fawkes."

She knew what he'd been before and yet thought nothing of letting him see these things.

Darien walked to her side and observed the workings of the lock. "You think something will go wrong?"

"I can't be sure---it's a gamble we're taking, but in case it blows up in our face, you are to come back here immediately and burn the contents of the safe. These are the last copies of the data Arnaud is looking for." As she put the papers in, she shut the steel door back and whirled the lock's tumblers.

The sound was so familiar, his blood raced at the thought of cracking the thing. When he looked back at her, he saw the serious expression that hardened her features.

"You understand that I want nothing left of the data or the disk that was hacked."

Darien nodded. A horrible thought crossed his mind then and he frowned, wrapping his arms around himself and stepping back a few feet from her.

"You want Harmony dead."

"It's all about containment, Darien Fawkes. She, like you, is a living link to what Kevin was working on and I will not take the chance that she might fall into Arnaud's hands. He wants her for the talent she possesses and he holds the key to her health. She might make another deal with him, in exchange for what the Keeper can’t give her---the serum’s real form."

Her eyes were like steel and her jaw was clenched. This was Agent Mackenzie, the woman who'd assassinated people for the CIA. At the moment, he didn't doubt it one bit.

"I could protect her, keep her away from him..." It was weak and he knew it, taking another step from her.

"You will have enough trouble keeping yourself out of his hands. Once he discovers that the evidence keeping him at bay is gone and the information he was seeking is destroyed, you will be a target." She'd stayed in her spot, in front of the painting that was a strange conglomerate of crayon and watercolors.

It really drew the eyes with its bright shades of blue and red.

"I'll take care of myself, you know. But---Harmony..." He stared at the painting and tried to find a painter's signature. It was very familiar to him and he couldn't decide if it was because he'd seen things painted like it or if it was a valuable piece of art.

She moved then, going away, to the computer that sat close by, at the desk. Turning the speakers on, she looked at a picture of their subject that hung above the desk and smiled before meeting his eyes again. The music that came from the computer was bluesy with a smoking guitar line.

"Harmony will be hunted. The Agency will not protect her. Our friend, the Keeper, will not protect her and the serum being made isn’t what she needs to stay healthy. You will not protect her. Darien, would you see her go on suffering?"

Darien frowned and sat down on the edge of the table closest to his position. "You are calling this a mercy killing? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes. Promise me here---not as an order, but as a man who knows what she's going through, that you won't let her suffer if something goes wrong. If it does go wrong, Darien, she will have to leave and then there will be no one like---to help her with the serum anymore."

Her eyes had softened just the tiniest bit as she skipped over a name that had been on the tip of her tongue---the name of his Keeper. Instantly, they'd gone stony again and he knew that he'd have to say something to her or she might retaliate against him. Darien had to give her something she was expecting to hear.

"Sure." It was like the thing he'd said to The Keeper---the idea of a bullet in the brain wasn't repugnant to him, compared to going insane and killing a friend or an innocent by-stander. But for Harmony? Was she as bad off as that?

"Make the promise on Kevin Fawkes' heart." It was an order this time.

He could hear Hobbes coming up the stairs and he wasn't alone. The Keeper was with him. This conversation was ending now. But to make a promise like that? The emotion of loss connected with his brother rose in him and he nodded.

"I promise for Kevin that if something goes wrong tonight and we don't get what we are searching for, that I will find Harmony and---" His voice caught in his throat. Darien swallowed hard past the dry knot. "Finish the experiment."

@@@

Chapter 16:

(narrated by Darien Fawkes)

"Ipsa scientia potestas est." is something that Kevin used to say to me. In perfect Latin. Now, to the rest of us, it means "Knowledge, itself, is power." Francis Bacon said this and I suspect without a shadow of a doubt that he had never met Agent Ciara Mackenzie, who was proving to be more than any of us had guessed at.

Whatever her relationship was with Kevin, he knew her well. He knew her secret life. He knew her well enough to know what I was finding out now: What ever else she was, she was like the shadow play of a beautiful woman's silhouette that when seen from a new angle, is something else, twisted and disturbing.

If I'd known what was coming, I would have definitely said hell no to the assignment. But, where's the fun in that?

@@@

"Here's your book, Mr. Kevin Roberts." Her voice held the amusement that was void from her face. "You still owe me ten sixty three for it."

She was offering the book to him. Darien sat on the couch and cringed. He didn't have the money now---in a couple of days, when he got paid...

"Here." His partner, digging fast through his wallet, came up with the remainder of the price of the book. "You can pay me back, partner."

Before he could say anything, Hobbes took the book from the hand that held it. They'd been talking with the Keeper and Ciara Mackenzie about the particulars of what they were going to do tonight.

Harmony, coming up the stairs from locking the store, had brought the book on Tantric massage therapy.

It was now in Hobbes' hot hands.

"Uh, you don't---" Darien didn't get it out fast enough. Bobby Hobbes had flipped the hard-back book open half way through the pages and was now staring blankly at what was there. From the angle, it looked like all text.

"Is he the friend it was for?" Harmony stood with her arms crossed at the corner of the crushed velvet couch. She had a disgruntled look on her face at the moment; the book had been taken harshly from her and she wanted to know why.

"I don't think it's his birthday, but---" Darien shrugged and looked back at Hobbes, whose eyes had grown large finally, as his fingers had turned the page and found the pictures for the pages before.

His partner blushed, slammed the book shut, and handed it to him with a sheepish frown.

"Happy birthday?" Harmony's laughter was back, quiet and sardonically hidden in her words. "Now you know what Tantric sexual massage is about."

"I guess I ought to go on and get ready---which one's mine?" Hobbes indicated the two suit bags that lay across the chair with a tilt of his head. The blush was fading now and Darien had to work to hide his own smile; Harmony's was bad enough.

"The one on the left, buddy."

Bobby Hobbes picked up the right one and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. Whatever he'd found out from his insomniac friends on the phone was going to have to wait until they were alone again and could speak freely.

Sitting beside him, the Keeper looked at the book he held and then up at him with a cocked eyebrow. He brought his gaze around to her and mimicked her expression without thinking about it.

"A little light reading or are you trying something else for the meditation?" Her accent slid over the words like water over ice.

"It's better than Playboy." He didn't blink and then let his eyes find Ciara, where she was crouched on the floor, at the table in front of them, wiring a microphone that was so small she held it between two serviceably short fingernails.

"Darien, remember that you're recommended to give your partner time to rest between each new exercise." Harmony moved to sit in the chair; she laid her fingers over her face, covering everything but her eyes.

At that moment, he realized she was referring to Hobbes.

Shaking the thought it brought free of his brain, he went back to watching Agent Ciara Mackenzie.

"You will wear this behind the first button on your jacket." She spoke without looking up. "Far enough away from your mouth to not pick up your breathing so much, but outward enough to pick up the words you want to record."

She laid the tiny nearly clear flat piece on the table and let the hair-thin wires dangle behind it.

"The recorder will go in your inner jacket or shirt. The wires are fragile, Agent Fawkes. Be careful with it." She patted the recorder that was barely big enough to hold his finger, much less a tape. It was shaped and looked for the world like a metal-cased cigarette lighter.

"Will do, Q."

Her smile was quick and thin as she flicked her eyes up at him and then back to the table top. She took a drink from the cup that sat before her. The coffee was still too hot to be palatable, but she showed no sign of being bothered by that.

"Now...we each will have the required earpieces that you will see every security agent wearing there tonight. They are all hooked to each other and to the main security board. We, on the other hand, are hooked not to them at all. Once we get started, I will cut on the other channel and it will be only the three of us. This means, if we get busted, we will not know until they come to remove us by force."

The words gave him pause. It touched him suddenly, the game they played.

"You mean, we might be caught by our own guys?"

"They're not 'our guys', Darien." She met his eyes again and this time, the stare was lingering and hard. "These are men who work for the government second, after their individual employers. Congressman Edgeley's men are the ones we want to avoid. They will be wearing red carnations on their jackets, to hide their own mics."

"So, we have a group of goons with red flowers on them. Should be easy to avoid." He nodded and looked at the Keeper who sat beside him. "Poor Cinderella, she's gonna miss the ball."

"I will not miss a thing, Darien. I'm going to be very busy." She blew on her own cup of very hot coffee.

"Oh, that's right. You're gonna be playing with Lab Rat here." He rolled his head to the side to look at Harmony Corwin who continued to look at him over the weave of her fingers.

It was disturbing to see her like that, mostly hidden from view. Her eyes smiled at him. Her voice was muffled, but he could hear the genuine concern there. "Just make sure you do your job, Guinea Pig, and get back safely with the evidence."

@@@

"Well, we really must go, Harmony." The Keeper stood up and moved across the room, to deposit her cup on the sink.

Ciara had gotten up as well and as she walked through the apartment, she spoke to the Keeper. Darien had a hard time picturing them together---making love on the couch he sat on now.

"I'll be there after we are done. You're going to be there all night?"

A nod shifted the fine-textured hair that had been pulled back and pinned away from the Keeper's strong, coldly sultry face. He still couldn't picture it, but he knew it was all too possible. And Hobbes had gotten it on tape...only to lose it.

Ciara Mackenzie was at the bed now. He didn't need to turn around on the couch to know that she was undressing; the leather was coming off like the outer skin of an orange.

"Be careful, Darien, and have a good time." Claire said. Then, she was gone, down the stairs, to wait for Harmony.

Darien turned his eyes to the painting again, where the safe was hidden. It was a great, modern piece, but he had no idea where he'd seen something like it.

In it's differentiated mediums of crayon and watercolor paints, there was an angel in a long, intensely bright blue coat who had wild, spiky hair and the features were muted from having no real outline. The jaw of the angel had some stubble on it.

The wings were black, smoky-looking, and rose up on either side of the shoulders to fall, still folded, to the bottom of the coat. It wore tennis shoes on its big feet.

It was a very human, desperate-looking angel for a modern age.

In the background, there were buildings with little lights in the windows, glowing yellow. The angel was walking in the picture, down the sidewalk, towards the front. Behind the angel, on the other side of the sidewalk was a fence; tall, broken-toothed slats that rose beyond the top of the painting.

He couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be something peeking through one of the broken places in the wooden slats.

In front of the fence, between it and the angel, stood a child. The child leaned on the fence with a bright red shirt on that had the number thirty-three in white letters. The shirt was so big that it swallowed the waif; but it was not just any waif---it was no big-eyed child from some generic paint-by-numbers job.

No, this child was a person as real as the angel.

Neither male nor female that he could tell, the child was totally engulfed in the shirt that jumped out at him. He'd owned a shirt like it once, as a kid. A jersey of some kind, with the same numbers on it. It was common---most of his friends had owned them as well.

The waif's hair was spiky and light brown, too, and stuck out in curly whorls all over its head. The eyes were not discernable, but the face was just as muted as the angel's appeared to be.

It was a mostly dark picture, with its sky full of stars that looked real enough to twinkle. The streets were dim and the fence was dark and the windows were the only real source of light.

Yet, the two figures jumped out at him, the angel in that not-quite cobalt blue trench coat and the little kid in the red jersey. Their colors were very real.

"You like the picture?"

Harmony broke in on his thoughts. It had been only seconds since the Keeper had left, but he'd been sucked into the picture. He didn't think it was a famous one, but it was a real piece of art and no forgery. He only recalled seeing one or two other paintings like it in his life---one was a piece by Jack Kerouac and he knew what it looked like---this wasn't it.

The other had hung in Kevin's private quarters in the compound where they'd implanted him with the gland.

It wasn't exact, but it was of the same artist...he was sure of it. The angel and the kid were only slightly different, but they'd been in the one his brother'd had, too.

"Yeh, actually I do. I was just remembering the one that Kevin had. It had the same---"

She chuckled to herself and turned to follow his gaze to where it stayed on the painting.

"I did those when I was nine, I think...trying to work through the aggression." Her words were self-deprecating, as if she didn't really want to tell him this, but felt it was necessary that he know. "Kevin thought it might help. It didn't...not much, anyway."

"They're beautiful." It was a statement. He couldn't believe what he'd found; a piece of his brother's life that had meant so much to Kevin that he'd hung the artwork up like it'd been done by a family member. He wondered what his brother had kept of his that had never been known to anyone as something belonging solely to Darien Fawkes.

"They're the product of a warped mind." When she turned to look at him, her mouth was twisted downwards.

"I don't think so..." Darien made to protest and she closed her eyes to ignore his words. When she opened them again, she had a change of topic.

"Did you get a copy of last night?"

She knew! Darien's jaw fell and he quickly collected himself. "Hobbes got it and Keep confiscated it, so no...we don't have a copy."

"S'kay. The apartment’s monitored by a security camera. It was all recorded digitally on my computer. I can burn you a copy, if you like." Her grin was sly and wicked.

She was a bundle of odd impulses and facets. One moment, she was painfully shy and mournful and the next minute, she was devilishly offering him a tape of two friends having sex on the couch while she slept on the bed in the background.

"You knew about last night?"

Behind him, he could hear Ciara Mackenzie as she moved around the closet, getting ready.

"Of course---how could I not? I don't sleep like a corpse." Harmony Corwin had leaned forward, over the table where the microphone and its tiny recorder lay alongside three little earpieces.

"You were drugged!" He leaned forward as well, to minimize who might hear their half-whispered conversation. On one hand, it was terribly funny, like a sitcom episode gone wrong. On the other, deeper level, it was scary---she was never completely at rest if she'd heard last night's conversations and the aftermath...for who could doze like she had and not get any relief from it?

"So---noise gets through."

She rose then, still dressed in her work clothes. The sweet, youthful face complimented and added to the picture of healthy, normal she presented to the world.

"How asleep were you while we were here?" He had to know what she might remember. Darien Fawkes stood up and moved towards her, stopping halfway across the floor.

Harmony Corwin walked to the top of the stairs and stopped, at the banister, to look at him. With her hair gently falling, wisping down around her face, she was as child-like as she'd been the night before, resting on the Keeper's knee.

"If I told you, I'd have to remove your lungs with a spoon."

Then, she was gone, to let the Keeper run the tests that might lead to a better fix than the one they had.

@@@

From the look of it, Hobbes had been hiding in the bathroom, for once she was gone, his partner came out. Darien couldn't be for sure, though, because it certainly looked like he'd used every moment of the time.

And it really hadn't been that long, anyway, when he thought about it.

Ciara Mackenzie came from the closet area on the other side of the large apartment and stood beside Darien. Both of them looked at Bobby Hobbes.

Cupping one hand under his chin and tilting his head to the side, he stared in blatant amazement at the subtle transformation. It wasn't much of an obvious change, but it was certainly eye-catching.

His partner's form was accented in the tuxedo. It was as white as a dove's underwing and the waistcoat shone like a pearl. His shoulders looked a little broader and the cut of the coat showed how trim and fit Agent Hobbes had kept himself.

The jacket only came to the waistline, cut in a matador's style, but it was very handsome. The trousers were baggy, tapering to the tops of the shoes; the cuffs lying silkily against the leather.

Bobby Hobbes looked like he'd stepped off the pages of GQ.

Ciara Mackenzie stood beside him, in her white silk dress, with her feet planted. She'd taken, unconsciously, the same stance of studying the agent who'd come out of the bathroom's interior. Her chin was cupped in a similar manner.

"Kid, your Keeper really knows Armani." Hobbes tugged on the pegged lapels of the snowy white jacket, nearly glowing. From the top of his balding head to his feet, he was very proud looking.

"Damn." It was all he could think of to say.

"Damn." The agent beside him echoed.

"Okay..." Hobbes' glow faded a little, slowly, as he realized how hard he was being stared at. "We're wasting time here."

"I guess I should go dress, then." Darien fumbled, coming out from under the spell.

Ciara Mackenzie came alive next to Darien and stepped forward, dropping the hand from her jaw. "Agent Hobbes, would you zip me up?"

Without missing a step in the heels she wore, she turned to present her back to the smaller man. Hobbes' face flushed just the tiniest bit, but he covered it with a hooded expression that would have made James Bond green with jealousy.

"I'd be happy to, Agent Mackenzie."

The dress looked dangerous. It was made of silk and low cut at the front and the back, exposing her lightly freckled skin in all the right ways, despite the fact that she was nearly flat chested. There was a strange mark on her upper breast, one that was the same color as her freckles.

The silk was flounced from hip to hem, just enough to conceal a weapon, he guessed. It rose to mid-thigh, showing her long, shapely legs that were proof of her physical prowess; they were muscular and lean.

Ciara Mackenzie was going to draw attention with her body tonight and it might be exactly what they needed---it was obviously a deliberate action on her part to use her assets to protect them all; who would notice him or Hobbes when they had her to stare at?

Darien watched the two of them as he gathered his own tuxedo, still in its bag, and started past Hobbes to go into the bathroom to get dressed. His partner was enjoying the chance to cater to this well-built woman who seemed to enjoy his company so much, no matter how much she unnerved him. His face showed only a little of the nervous energy and worry that he'd carried openly in the car.

Finishing with his own wardrobe, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out to find the two experienced agents waiting on him, side by side.

They both wore brazenly admiring looks on their faces. He had no idea how he really looked. The mirror in the bathroom didn't show all of his form. Darien had to admit, though, the tuxedo had looked good.

His Keeper had managed to find trousers long enough to fit his legs and yet keep the tapered, trademark Armani style. Whatever they were paying her at the Agency to keep her, it was far more than he made---she'd taken this from her own pocket, no doubt, because the Official would never have sprung for such expensive clothing.

Darien had stood and looked at the jacket for a long time. It was further proof that the Keeper knew him a little too well.

It was lapel-free. The collar stood up only two inches and was fashioned in the Nehru style of Armani. The jacket fell to mid-thigh on him, tucking at the waistline and flaring over his hips in a very old-fashioned way. It covered the pearly waistcoat and starched white shirt in a flattering way.

He had to admit again, to himself, the Keeper had taken good care of him.

"Now, don't we make a pretty threesome?" Ciara's voice broke the silence. The music had been turned off while he was in the bathroom. It was deathly quiet.

In her hand, she held the bug and the recorder.

Darien let her plant the tiny microphone behind the button it was meant for. Raising his arm, he allowed her to lace the wire up the inside of his jacket, to his inner body. Her hands were gently firm and warm.

Against his ribs, she attached the recorder. As long as he didn't yank the wires free, he was ready. He let the side of his jacket fall back into place and smiled at her. Agent Mackenzie's face was all business now, but she had a gleam of excitement in her gray eyes that made him think of Hobbes when the experienced agent was preparing to really go to work with what he knew.

The three of them stood, together, silent for a moment longer. His partner broke the quiet.

"Are you gonna do something about your hair or what?"

He ran a hand over his head, letting the end slip through his fingers. Darien knew it was sticking out worse now, but it seemed right.

"Why, is there something wrong with it?"

@@@

Chapter 17:

It was definitely a party for boring, rich people. Darien felt right at home. He'd worked a few parties like this before, in his old life. He'd take a job as a caterer or a server and work the crowd.

He could generally make out good; hauls at functions like this were generally more than decent. These people could be so careless with whom they trusted completely when they had been mixing alcohol with stupidity.

Tonight, though, he was one of the good guys. At least, he thought so. With all the people in the white tuxedos, some with red carnations over their hearts, it was difficult to believe that they were all willing to forgo justice for the sake of money or power.

But, then he couldn't be so sure his head wouldn't be turned by such things. After all, his price had come to be a needle in the arm. There was no reason why he wouldn't still understand the value of greed and wastrel power.

And Darien did. He understood.

On the way over, Ciara Mackenzie had told them, when Hobbes expressed his thoughts on her being there among faces who might know her---who might blow the cover, that few people who saw her remembered her later...and she'd an idea who would be at the party at the Hotel Rimbaud. Few would know her there tonight.

Chances were excellent that no one would pay the slightest bit of attention to the two male agents, as it should be. She was a decoy, more than anything.

"You mean, you're mostly here to put yourself out as bait to be caught?" Darien had leaned over the seat into the front where his partner and Ciara rode side by side, as comfortable with each other, once more as they'd been the night before, when they'd reached an understanding. The time alone, together, while he readied himself must have done the trick.

"That's right. I don't think they suspect that I might know what is going down tonight, but if they do and they spot me, they'll pay attention to what I do and not see you so much." Her voice had been inflectionless, bland, and attempting to soothe him.

It hadn't worked.

"You're talking suicide, you know. If they catch you---" He'd faded then, seeing her face as she looked at him, with her head only half turned. Out of the corner of her eye, she'd smiled.

"They will try to catch me. I've never been caught yet."

Darien had thought about that; it was true, according to what information they'd found on her. The only time she'd been busted for anything was the time she and Kevin had deliberately set it up to be that way.

Kevin...pulling a con. Now, there was something he was going to be wondering about for a long time to come. He'd be thinking about it, wishing he could just call the guy and ask him---'did you really do that, bro?'

It made sense, in a twisted way. He'd been pulling cons and jobs since he was old enough to...and Kevin had always warned him about it, about the risks. Now, he knew that his big brother had been just as capable. He'd been no innocent.

It made him feel better, somehow. Vindicated, maybe.

Arriving at the Hotel, Hobbes had pulled into a lot where a large, fancy sign had been set announcing it as security officers' parking. Getting out, they had all three pulled out their earpieces and held them.

At the front lobby, they'd been ushered, upon giving their names, to a room where they were given the frequency that the security was using to communicate. It was a plush, rich room---a powder room of some sort, transformed for the evening into a command central.

Inside the party, they'd stuck together long enough to get into a corner and Ciara Mackenzie had switched the frequency for their earpieces. The mouthpiece that went with it was placed at the top-most possible corner of the men's jackets. Now, they were wired for sound.

"I'm going to work my way through the floor down here. I'm less likely to be known on this level. Hobbes, why don't you take the second floor lobbies?"

Her voice brooked no argument. Hobbes moved off and as he reached the second level, he spoke to a server, to test the microphone. His voice came in clearly through the earpiece.

"Now that we know that we're going to be able to stay in contact, you need to get to that third floor." She'd looked darkly around at the people who socialized with drinks in their hands, before meeting his gaze. Her pale eyes had pierced him and he remembered what he'd been told about her; what he'd read about her.

She was as dangerous as Harmony Corwin could be. She'd worked as a killer and as a diplomat. She was cold, calculating, and a patriot of the oldest sort---one that really meant business and she couldn't be bought cheap.

If everyone had their price, chances were excellent that only a few, select people knew what this woman's price was or could possibly reach it. She would never settle for gold or diamonds. They weren't in her class. Darien Fawkes had an idea that her price was at the lab in the sub-basement of the Federal Annex D.

And it wasn't wearing a lab coat.

Nodding, he moved off, in the direction of the stairs. They were huge, marble, circling in two directions, to create an open, airy space that went all the way to the ceiling on the third floor, which was all there was of the main building.

On either side of the open air that went up three flights, there were other stairs that led to wings of the hotel. It was a grande belle of a place; just right for some surveillance-spy work.

Darien Fawkes climbed the stairs, taking his time, in order to look like he knew where he was going to. He had to look the part or risk being the one that blew the lid on the plan. There was no way in hell, he decided, that he'd be the one who made the mistake that would end up ruining the assignment and costing Harmony Corwin her life.

He didn't want to have to be the one who looked her in the eye and pulled a trigger, putting an end to one of his brother's friends.

Not on his watch.

Realizing he was starting to sound gung-ho, he silenced the thoughts and smiled sourly at the idea, cocking a mental brow. Getting serious about the job? Not him.

He passed groups of people gathered in small clumps, talking everything from politics to sports. From what he'd gathered, this was a fund-raiser of some sort, for a charity.

Darien had suspicions that the charity was in fact one of Congressman Edgeley's pet projects, like Arnaud's works or the mysterious others that Ciara had mentioned.

By the time he got to the third floor, he'd found the elite. He'd taken his time, and had counted that it had to have been about a half hour or more since they'd arrived.

No one had noticed him yet, but he saw, with a cursory, quick glance, that he was the only white tuxedo on this floor that wasn't sporting a red carnation.

Trouble. He'd walked into the lion's den.

Making his way along the upper tier's wall, he kept his left side blocked from the view of the room. Darien looked out over the edge of the marble that separated him from open space and sought out a white silk dress with a tall, lean body in it. She'd be hard to miss, he knew. Even if he found more than one white, low-cut dress, her leonine mane of hair would give her away.

She'd worn it loose, hanging down on her shoulders. The tawny red blonde of it was full of a natural curl that suggested it couldn't be tamed and was probably frizzy when unkempt---a good proof of it's mistress' personality.

There. He'd spotted her as she moved through the crowd like Red Death, cutting a small path in front of her before she even stepped.

By him, there was a large potted plant that was taller than he was. He stepped into it's shade and looked nonchalantly around behind him for a long time, letting fifteen minutes pass as he sought the face he'd come here to see.

"I'm alone. All red flowers." Darien looked around again, trying to seem like he belonged, to melt into the scene. Everywhere he looked, red carnations were riding on the hearts of white tuxedos. He could see many black tuxedos, too, being worn by men who looked hard and weathered by shady deals.

"Edgeley?" Her voice crackled over his earpiece, sounding tinny and cool, breaking ice on some artic plain.

Darien turned to rest his elbow on the marble wall and studied the floor in front of him, letting his eyes carefully move upwards at a snail's pace. To look without looking as Hobbes called it.

"Down here." Hobbes' words hissed into his ear unexpectedly, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

"Second?" He tried to keep his voice down. Darien's heart was pounding hard, making his head hurt with the same drum-noise.

"Come left when you get down." The voice was even quieter, nearly a whisper. Hobbes sounded like he was onto something.

"Gotcha." Darien slowly made his way back towards the wide marble stairs. Once he reached them, he didn't look back. He worked on calming his heart which was making the blood in his veins roar through him, drowning the hearing in his ears and making his head hurt worse.

Everywhere he looked, there were people on the second tier. Turning left, Darien Fawkes slipped along the wall again, keeping that side out of sight, pressed to the marble without touching it.

It was only a few moments and he'd spotted his partner farther into the second floor balcony room. The shorter man was standing in some shadows with his hands behind him, looking handsome and dignified and very much in the open.

Searching the room as he started across it, he realized why his more experienced partner was in plain sight, next to a pillar that was as wide as the muscular, older agent. Here, there were less red flowers. Many of them were in similar positions, at various points.

Federal boys, Darien thought. He was starting to recognize the stance and the attitude. It was becoming unmistakable; they gave themselves away so easily.

Not that he was complaining, he actually appreciated the way they let him know immediately who and what they were, needing only a look. It made things so much easier, meaning his concentration could stay on paying attention to everything else.

"What's there?" Ciara Mackenzie's voice came, low in his ear.

He reached Bobby Hobbes' side and assumed the stance with attitude. It worked for two agents as well as one. They were Mutt and Jeff without the funny, at the moment.

"He went in there." His partner's voice was so soft that he nearly missed it over the classical music that played close by, from some unseen speaker. Darien followed the dark eyes that moved, in a straight line, to a pair of French doors not very far away.

"Legs? You with it?" She was speaking to him now, indicating that he should move in and attempt to see what was beyond the door. It meant that it was show time for the gland.

"I'm gone." He watched the floor for a few moments and when he knew no one was paying any attention to the Odd Couple in white tuxedos, he stepped behind the pillar.

Taking a deep breath, he slowed his heartbeat and found that silent spot in his head, where the gland responded.

The cold, slick quicksilver slid out and over him.

Darien Fawkes moved past his partner and resisted the urge to touch the man on the shoulder, to let Hobbes know where he'd been. He would have to hurry. A thirty-minute countdown had begun.

Slipping through the wide hallway, he moved around bodies quickly and silently. It was what he did best. Taking care as he rounded a large group of people chattering loudly above the music, he reached the door in only a minute.

The double doors stood open. Two red flowers were there, on either side of the frame. He went right by them, once again resisting the urge to make his presence seen or felt.

Inside, there were a group of men sitting around a boardroom-type table.

Congressman Edgeley headed it. Stealthily, Darien crept up the length of the room and got within two feet of the politician. Studying the man for a moment, he lifted the edge of his jacket and thumbed the switch on the recorder. This meeting was exactly what he'd come here for.

The names of Arnaud De Fehrn and a scientist whose signature had been on the papers Ciara had shown him was all he needed to hear to start recording the conversation.

He stood as quietly as he could. Darien knew what was really riding on this, now. It'd been laid out to him; if they failed, Ciara Mackenzie would take the rap and Harmony would die at his hands.

If he failed, they'd be lucky to live long enough to do either.

The things said were condemning evidence---once this reached the Official, charges could be brought up for the dirty Congressman. And maybe, in the conversation, he'd get the knowledge of where the Swiss scientist was hiding.

Once he had that---he'd make a personal trip and rub the smirk off the man's face. If Ciara Mackenzie or Harmony Corwin wanted to help, he'd welcome the company.

Between them, they could open the door to a whole new universe of pain for the little creep that had taken Kevin's life and work, destroying them.

Ten minutes went by and he realized he'd gotten more than enough dirt. The guy was giving it all up here, to a group of cronies who were backing him politically and financially.

Darien Fawkes watched the smug face of the Congressman and thought about this man's involvement in the mess, going all the way back twenty years. He'd been one of the committee who'd signed the papers giving permission to start DNA experiments on an infant. He'd been one who'd signed the death warrant for the child who'd lost control over her own mind and body.

Congressman Edgeley had been behind the termination kill orders, even when they knew that Doctor Kevin Fawkes could have a solution to the problem that didn't have to end in execution of a ten year old.

He became angry then, thinking about the papers he'd seen, given to him by the female agent who'd asked for his help, despite the acknowledgement she'd been the primary suspect before they’d talked. Those papers outlined the plan that had set the Quicksilver experiments in motion. Edgeley's signature had been on them, too.

All along, the man had been a major factor in the invisibility experiments, for twenty years. More than that, though, his name had been put to a paper that detailed Arnaud's hostile take-over plans for Kevin Fawkes' federally-funded laboratory and had ordered death for the doctors there...all to cover up a coup that would take the power of quicksilver out of the experimental stages and put all of it in the hands of a few men who desired to sell it for personal gain---to the highest bidder.

Edgeley had been behind and at the head of some of it. He didn’t need to know the wheres and whys.

The recorder went on, taping digitally, the damning plans that Darien heard being made. All he needed now was the location of a certain scientist and he'd go.

It was a personal vendetta, he knew, but since he was here, why not find out what he really wanted to know?

He searched the papers in front of Edgeley, leaning closer than he knew was safe. Nothing there. He was out of luck in the front and tops of those pages he could see.

"Fawkes?" It was soft in his ear; his partner whispering to him, having kept time for him while he was invisible. "Party's over."

He longed to say it out loud---no, it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. He might have to walk out of here right now, but he'd find this man again and he'd have a few things to say; preferably with bars of steel between them.

This time, though, he wouldn't be the one serving time for theft.

Edgeley was a bigger thief than he'd ever dreamed of being. Small stuff, petty things was all he'd ever taken in comparison to this man who was supposed to represent the people of the United States.

Darien frowned then. He was really spending too much time with Bobby Hobbes. Between his paranoid, Agency-minded partner and patriot Ciara Mackenzie, he was starting to think about the big picture---which might not be so healthy for him.

He slipped away then, headed to the door. It was drawing close to twenty minutes. Already, he could feel the headache he'd been nursing begin to change. The twinges weren't the same; soon, it would be like his head was splitting open and the descent into quicksilver madness would begin.

Keeping to himself, he concentrated on getting out of the room.

"Robinson---close the doors."

Edgeley's voice stopped him cold for a second and then he put his feet into motion. He had to get out now---now. If or when he didn't, he was going to be stuck in this room with these filthy-handed men whose sideline was killing people the slow way...going quicksilver crazy and worse.

One of the red flowers closed the doors. Oh, shit...shit..shit...shit! Darien came to a halt on a dime at the French doors that had just shut. His nose was only millimeters from the oak wood with its brass designs. He was trapped!

"Hold on, Legs." Her voice was British-flavored ice milk, cold and silky, in his ear. "Step back."

Darien, his nerves jittering, did as she instructed, moving to the side of the door. He was confused; what was she going to do?

The doors opened fast, propelled by a large body that slammed into them.

"Now, kid, get the fuck out of here." Her voice was louder.

It wasn't in his ear, but in the immediate vicinity. Darien blinked and saw her as she came through the door behind the body of the red flowered tuxedo she'd bowled over.

Pandemonium broke out and he knew what she'd done. Things were going down badly and she was doing what she'd silently said she would by mentioning a decoy action---given him and Hobbes a chance to get out before it was too late.

She met his invisible gaze, and in a crazy moment, he wondered how she knew where he was. Then, she spoke to him again, giving her last order on this assignment.

"Get the fuck out and do your job, kid!"

As she went past him, she brought her knee up and around to smash into the chest of a red flower that was headed in their direction. She sidestepped, taking another man with a backward-moving sidekick. As she came back around, she planted her elbow in the throat of a mountain that rushed at her. In a whir, he saw her fist come up and blood flew through the air, hitting her face and dress.

Darien ran. The last thing he saw of Ciara Mackenzie was of her warrioress' face and the perfect, white silk of the dress as blood splattered across it, in a soft, vivid arc that was poetry in brutal motion. She'd found her battle.

Skidding to the top of the stairs, he saw below him complete mania, as red flowered white tuxedos moved, headed towards him. On the bottom floor, caught in a crush of bodies that moved too fast, was Bobby Hobbes, who'd stopped running---waiting for his partner and the female operative they'd come with.

Taking the steps two at a time, he became aware that he was visible. People moved for him and several red flowers eyed him closely, trying to ascertain his identity. He couldn't remember the moment the quicksilver had melted, shattered, away from his body, but now he was seen and that meant, he could be identified and maybe shot---

Hobbes below was searching the stairs with his eyes frantic. The body crush was flowing away now; how the smaller man had kept his feet in the press was a mystery or a miracle. Now, definitely wasn't the time to find out.

Hitting the bottom of the marble stairs, Darien caught his partner by the sleeve and hauled him free of the last bodies that threatened to knock the agent down.

"Fawkes, what the hell---" He didn't get to finish. Darien pulled him through the archway doors and out into the lobby of the hotel.

"Come on---we've gotta go." Barely able to catch his breath, he slapped at the hand that tried to slow him, stop him. Hobbes wasn't cooperating. "Now!"

Through the door and across the gardened front lawn, he dragged Bobby Hobbes.

"Fawkes! Wait, Mackenzie's back there!" It was all that his mystified partner got out before they reached the parking lot where they'd left the unmarked, dark car.

"I know! Come on! We gotta get outta here---" He skid across the front seat and unlocked the passenger door. Hobbes opened the door, banging it into the car that sat next to the Agency vehicle.

"We can't leave here yet, Darien!"

His first name, from his partner, made him stop as he jammed the key into the ignition switch. His head pounded with the rush of impending quicksilver madness through his veins. He had to get somewhere---but where? Oh, yeh....he'd promised. He'd promised on Kevin.

"Yes." He turned the engine over and slid the car into reverse. It pulled out backwards and he slammed it into drive. "We can and we damn well are. Now."

Out on the freeway, he let Hobbes curse him loudly for a while. The man's nerves, already tight from the assignment, were now on the thinnest point and threatening to snap.

"We just left a man! Dammit, Fawkes---you never leave a man behind!" Bobby Hobbes was wringing his fingers together into knots. His face was a mask of horrified and indignant fury.

"She told me that this could happen and she just saved our fuckin' lives, man!" Darien thumped the steering wheel hard with the words and groaned out a string of obscenities. "She fuckin' knew---and she made me promise!"

They sped towards the suburbs, towards The Neon Silence. He was getting closer, but he knew he could keep a tight hold on the madness. Darien Fawkes still had work to do, despite the fact that when he made the promise, he'd not known he'd really have to go through with it.

Pulling into the gravel lot across from the store, he put the car in park. He pinned his partner with a dark, deadly look and laid a hand on the smaller agent's arm, to restrain him.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

Jogging across the street, he made the sidewalk in seconds and was down the side of the building like a shot. He jumped for the fire escape ladder, pulled it down, and flung himself up it as fast as he could go, mindless of what it was doing to the Armani he wore.

The window was open, as he had known it would be. Ciara Mackenzie, with her obvious sense of intuition, had figured him out---she'd gotten his number, had named his modis operandis. She'd known he'd use this way faster than trying the door---she'd left the window open this time for him on purpose. She'd known he would keep the promise that he’d made on his brother, even if he destroyed himself in doing so.

She'd known it would probably go down bad. And now, she was dead---she had to be either dead or on her way to being dead. Edgeley knew her face, her name. He knew who she was, what she represented. There'd be no jail time for CIA Agent Ciara Mackenzie---only a bullet from a silenced gun in a room with a locked door.

Hurrying through the almost completely dark apartment, he passed the bathroom, with it's light on. The lamp on the desk was on. There was enough light in the room to work by; no flashlight was required.

Pushing on his white sleeves, he took the painting down and laid it to the side quickly. Darien cracked his knuckles and bent his ear to the job, casually, unconsciously, holding his breath as he heard each tumbler fall into place.

It was a simple safe; one of the easiest ever made. Never meant to hold the kind of documents he was now in search of---never meant for anything but a few trinkets of mostly sentimental value.

The safe gave way and he swung it open. The door slammed into the brick wall, resounding loudly in the silence that was only marred by his hard breathing.

Darien Fawkes used a single hand and gathered everything in the safe. There wasn't much. A bundle of envelopes, the papers he'd seen earlier, and a disk inside of a translucent blue jewel case.

He flopped down in the chair at the desk and laid the handful down. First, he'd tear up and burn the papers...then he'd ruin the disk that bore the name Neon Blue across it's shiny surface in bold calligraphy.

The left corner of an envelope was visible, at the bottom of the stack. It was directly in the glare from the lamp.

Darien Fawkes, squinting, swung the gooseneck around to bring the full circle of concentrated light onto the pile of envelopes. His brother's name and an address...

He pushed the papers and the disk aside and looked at the envelopes. There were a number of them. Mostly thick ones, probably holding up to six sheets. They all had his brother's name in the return address spot. Some were from different places in the world, but the last ones, the last three...

Knowing he had no time, he pulled open the slit end and pulled the pages out. It wasn't just one letter---it was six stuck in one envelope. Had they all been sent at the same time or had Ciara Mackenzie economized by getting rid of the envelopes?

He laid it aside and looked in all the envelopes. They were all like that, containing more than one letter---some, the thicker ones, contained five and six and seven letters of one, at two pages each.

Kevin had kept constant contact with the missing agent and never told anyone. He'd kept constant contact with the child he'd saved.

Staring at the familiar, scrawled handwriting, Darien felt a chill go up his spine. Letters from a dead man. Letters from someone who'd gotten himself killed for his younger, convict brother.

He sighed and scrubbed at his head, fighting the headache, with the heel of a hand. What could he do with these letters? He shouldn't read them---they weren't his. But, he'd been ordered by Agent Mackenzie to destroy the contents of the safe. That meant these letters, too.

But, she was probably dead now. Dead like Kevin.

And it had been so long since he'd had a chance to read anything in that handwriting.

Darien Fawkes looked up at the clock that sat on the desk. He had thirty minutes before the goons might start showing up---on the safety side of things. He could always go see-through and get away with the stuff if they showed up.

He opened the last ones, post-marked for only a day or two before his brother had died. It was probably the last letter Kevin had ever written to Ciara.

Hurrying, rushing through the letter, he caught his brother's voice in his ear, speaking the words as he saw them.

It was all there---chronicled by Kevin's hand. The love, respect, and trust Ciara had been given by a man, a doctor, who was supposed to be one of the smartest minds on earth but who'd never stopped being humble and good-natured.

It was right there in the letter...he called the young woman 'our girl', in a figurative sense.

Darien read his brother's words of love and compassion and understanding for the young woman who'd been his first real experiment. How was she? Had she gotten over the flu she'd been suffering from yet? Had to be careful and not let her get any worse...if the fever went over a hundred five, the hormone would help cook her, cause a seizure, make her cycle speed up.

He read on and on, through that last packet of letters, three months worth of notes. There was one for every two weeks---Kevin had engraved his heart and soul into paper somehow and managed to say volumes in only a few pages.

Heart aching, Darien finally slid the letters into his jacket pockets and picked up the disk and the papers that would incriminate Edgeley of his crimes.

What could he do? He could destroy them here or take them with him to the lab. He could forget all of it and go home, get some sleep---if he could sleep.

Darien looked at the disk with it's lettering. Neon Blue. She was Neon Blue and it was his job to terminate the experiment. Neon Blue was a hacker's handle but there was a warm-blooded person behind that name---someone whose name was music, as Kevin had written in the letters. Her very name was music.

He slowly slid the disk and the papers, folded up, into the other pocket of his white jacket. Darien looked down, disjointedly, and saw that there was no blood on him; he'd been so close to Ciara when she'd smashed that man's face in and he'd not gotten blood on him at all.

The image came back---of the tall, lanky female agent throwing her fist backwards as she stepped around sideways into the red flower guard. She'd broken the man's face with only a single backwards slice of her wrist.

It was time to go to the lab. He'd figure out what to do with the evidence and the letters when he'd taken care of Harmony.

He'd closed the safe and put the picture up in its place again. Staring at it, with his head laid sideways on his shoulder, he decided that he'd take it. It reminded him of what Kevin had said about good and evil and the human spirit that was beyond science's domain.

Pulling it back off the wall, he went to the window, and one-handedly climbed down the fire escape.

Back in the car, in the passenger seat this time, he said nothing about Hobbes having gotten behind the wheel. Instead, he slid the painting behind the seat, into the floorboard of the back, and pulled out the gun he knew was under his seat.

He'd not stay---he'd quit, even if it did make him insane and probably kill him. Darien checked the chamber. Loaded. He slid it into his pocket, where the letters were. His hands grazed over the paper his brother's hands had touched so lovingly.

Drawing a bundle out, he flicked the overhead light on and began to read.

The car hadn't moved.

"What the hell do you wanna do---?" Hobbes voice interrupted him. "You need a shot or not?"

He nodded without looking up. Darien Fawkes read the words of his brother and listened to the beating of his heart. "Yes, I do."

@@@

Chapter 18:

Moving through the building, he was glad Hobbes said nothing more for the moment. Darien didn't want to have to think right now---he didn't want that responsibility. He'd promised to make something happen, to relieve some pressure and pain, and now it was time to pay the piper.

His partner jogged along beside him, mouth shut, trying to keep up with his long-legged strides.

He'd stood still only while in the elevator. As it went down, he imagined it was descending into the very bowels of hell. It might as well be, for the feeling he had in his gut.

Quicksilver madness was there, at the edge of his brain. He was losing it; thoughts, random and electrifying, flashed through his mind. And in the rational, still part of him, he knew it was destined to happen this way.

It was fitting, really. To kill the young woman who shared more in common with him than any other human on earth while in the state of mind that she was unable to approach right now. She'd had the shot of serum. She wouldn't need another one until the next hormone flux happened.

She was still deadly, but without the madness, she'd think twice, right? Twice was all he needed her to consider it and he could have her dead without blinking.

He'd have fulfilled the promise and----

Out of the elevator, he stalked down the last hallway and used his card to swipe into the lab. Bobby Hobbes, on his heels, took a deep breath as if preparing to speak and never did.

Inside the lab, it was cool and dim. Nothing was out of place, except the Keeper.

She wasn't there. Good. This shouldn't have to be seen by the woman who'd been his Keeper for months.

Harmony lay on the chair, her head flung back. Her brown hair flowed free down over her shoulders and onto the leather of the reclining back. Darien could see how tiny her feet looked, with high arches that looked really too small to walk on.

She was only half-dressed. Wearing a white sports bra and a pair of white boxer shorts, she was fragile looking where she lay with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open just the tiniest bit, like a little girl sleeping.

He moved to stand in the middle of the room.

She was covered in electrodes that were attached to wires that ran to a machine that was making no sound. Lights on it flashed in time, keeping a rhythm sacred to her body.

The electrodes were white and pale blue splotches all over her body, at every pressure point and every major artery's high point. The little steel nipples shone in the soft light.

Harmony looked to be asleep, resting easier than she probably had in a long time. Had her life in a lab made it impossible for her to sleep normally anywhere else? Darien could guess that she'd probably missed the sterility and the cold, stainless steel fixtures for a long time after leaving them behind.

It was like leaving your mother---scientists had been her semi-brutal, dysfunctional family and the lab had been the only home-life she'd had as a child. It would probably be the only place she'd ever feel safe and the only place she'd ever really feel fear or pain.

It was the ultimate love-hate relationship.

"Hi, Darien...Hobbes. How was your night?" Her voice was drowsy, slurring. He watched as she turned her head to look at him and those eyes, behind heavy lids, opened only a little bit.

Hobbes once more began to speak, to take control of the situation. Before he could, Harmony gingerly sat up, being careful to not disturb as many of the colored wires as possible.

"You need a shot." The eyes never really opened, staying at half-mast, with the sleepy, soft-gazed way that near-sighted people saw the world without their glasses. "You also don't look like you're here to talk to me."

She didn't reach for the glasses that lay on the steel tray close by. Instead, she moved a finger in a circle where it lay on the chair's surface and grinned slowly at him; she wasn't drugged, but he would bet she was in a trance of some sort.

"In fact, I'd say we're in trouble. Am I warm?"

The tiny movement of that one finger caused a warning beep to start on the machine that sat by the chair. She'd set something into motion.

Harmony watched him as he watched her, his hands down by his sides. He could feel Bobby Hobbes behind him, standing very still. After the silence in the car, his partner had taken the wise route of saying nothing and seeing everything.

They stared at each other. Finally, he blinked. The redness was there, making his eyes feel different. He'd come to a familiar level of the madness. If he could see himself in a mirror, he knew that his eyes would be completely blood-colored.

"You blinked. You lose." Her voice was lower, more dangerous. Her words came out a lazy drawl that had no accent to it at all. "You know, Darien, you look nice tonight. I love the jacket."

The Keeper came in then, carrying a small, box-like machine with a cord that dangled.

"What did you do to it this time, Harmony?" She set the load down and brushed at her hair, which had fallen into her eyes from the effort of maneuvering the monitoring device. "You will never get away from those wires if you can't lay still long enough to get an hour's reading on your calmative state."

"I really don't think calm is what she needs to be right now, Doc." Hobbes spoke then, moving towards the woman.

Her eyes, having just then found the two men in the room, widened.

"Back already? Is Agent Mackenzie with you?" She wiped at her forehead again with the back of her wrist and moved towards Darien, only to be intercepted by Bobby Hobbes.

"We need a shot and now, do you understand?" His voice was a growl. "He's gonna crack in a minute and not a damned one of us is gonna be calm, then. "

"Calm down, Hobbesy, baby." Harmony's words were an order, spoken without shifting her blue-eyed gaze from Darien. "You're not helping him any."

"I don't want his help. I brought that evidence you wanted, Songbird." The name, unbidden, rose from within him. He couldn't remember where he'd heard it, but it was hers.

Harmony came off the chair then, sliding to her feet. "Well, let's have that shot and take a listen to what you got on the assholes."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Keeper, his Keeper, preparing a shot of counteragent. Hobbes, by her side, was anxiety made human. His dark eyes were wide with fear and an emotion somewhat related to anger. The man was staying silent, watching the proceedings, urging the woman with the syringe to hurry with hands that twitched.

"I think I really hate having your buddy Ciara tell me what I oughta do." It was a knife, slicing through the air and cutting at the girl who stood, in the same stance he was in, waiting for the attack she obviously knew was coming.

"Ciara only gave that order in case that something went wrong and you didn't get the evidence, Darien." Harmony had stepped free of the chair now, only held back by the wires that were snapped into place onto the electrodes that had been stuck on her body.

Every light on the machine was moving faster, except for one. Even in his maddened state, he recognized the heart monitor. Her heart rate was not rising; she wasn't afraid. She didn't fear him at all.

"Something went wrong, Songbird. Ciara's dead." He used his hands without looking down to remove the microphone and the recorder that had been attached to his shirt, against his ribs.

He let it drop to the floor and it clattered away from his feet.

"Ciara isn't dead, Darien." Her voice remained calm and serious and the monitor showed that she believed it.

"She’s not?" Darien snorted and grinned at her, feeling his lips pull back from his teeth in a feral way. "I saw her last and she couldn't have made it out alive."

Letting the madness run through him like fire, he moved towards her at last, seeing her as if in some altered state, doing the same thing. She met his body with the force of a small locomotive. The lead wires snapped and flew away from her body as she landed on him.

Her feet swept him hard and she went down with him, rolling. Darien struck his head on the concrete floor and went dizzy for a moment. As his sight cleared, he saw Ciara Mackenzie as she came into the room, her face ashen in shock and cold anger.

"Harmony, stop it!" The agent's voice roared in the silence that was only broken by the sound of two pairs of lungs dragging in air.

She had him by the neck, but instead of throttling him and bashing his head into the hard concrete, she moved her hands in a nearly sensual way at the back, just below the tiny scar that the surgery had left behind.

In the soft spot at the base of his skull, she rotated her thumbs inward on him before he could get his balance back. The little thumbs hit a nerve at the top of his spinal column. Right over the place where the gland sat.

Suddenly, there was no more pain. There was also peace.

Darien fought to get to his feet, to get out of her hands. He couldn't imagine why he would not want to. She'd been ready to kill him, but he suddenly didn't care about that anymore. He lay, sprawled against her. He looked up at her and saw compassion. A distant, cold-blooded understanding came to him that she held his life in her hands, even now, instead of the other way around.

"Let him go, Harmony---he was only doing what he promised." He watched silently as Ciara bent and retrieved the recorder and the wired microphone. She set them on a countertop and then took the syringe from the Keeper, who stood white-faced beside Hobbes, whose eyes were calculating the shot he was going to make.

His partner had taken out his gun and was now aiming directly for Harmony's head.

His own sleeve was pushed up by force and his watch flipped down roughly.

"My, my...we are in trouble now, aren’t we?" Harmony's mildly French-accented words struck him. Darien looked up to meet her gaze, surprised at the sound of her voice now. She let the watch go and laid that same, warm hand against his neck. "He's just pushed himself too hard tonight. He'll be fine. Won't you, big boy?"

That hand began to move, against his skin in a gentle, rotating manner. It felt so good. Up and down his neck the fingers moved, going from jaw to collar. Then, he felt the fingers unbutton the collar on his shirt and loosen it, moving it away from his collarbones.

"Harmony, you have to let him have this shot." The Keeper's order came out, sounding friendly enough, though he could see the worry in her eyes. What was it that frightened her so much? He didn't hurt and the madness seemed to be receding.

"Give it to me, I'll take it to him." Hobbes held a hand out but the gun never dropped.

"She'll kill him if you push her now, don't you see that?" Ciara Mackenzie's words were harsh, biting.

"Bullshit. I can make the shot." Bobby Hobbes steadied his gun hand by wrapping the other hand around his wrist and forearm. "Dr. Fawkes' Frankenstein ain't gonna kill nobody here."

He could see the look Harmony shot Hobbes. It was a low-grade distaste that warned his partner to stay away. Everyone had to stay away.

Her hands massaged and worked over his throat and face as she held his head and shoulders on her lap. Darien stared up into Harmony's face and smiled. He knew what she was doing. He'd have done the same thing for her, if not for the madness.

When she looked down to smile back at him, he could see his eyes reflected in hers. Within the blue-tan depths, he saw the red-black of his eyes staring back at him. It wasn't her; only a reflection of his own madness.

"The worst thing about us..." It was a whisper. Her eyes never shifted and the hands never stopped moving, from collarbones to temple and back down. "Is how they think they can save us from ourselves, like we asked for this to happen. They believe they know what is best for the freak show, when they don't know what it's like to be one of the freaks."

"I know." His voice came back, just as quiet and breathy. "It's worse when they love us."

"Yeh."

"Harmony, I'm going to slide this syringe and an alcohol wipe across to you. I want you to administer the shot. Will you do that?" The Keeper had gone into a crouch and the syringe with a tiny square of cotton wrapped into the plunger's thumb hole came across the floor with only a sigh of noise.

He couldn't see it, but he was pretty sure it was lying against Harmony's leg.

"I could make it easy for you, Darien. I could end the pain right here. You feel no pain now, right?"

"No pain." He admitted. It felt pretty good to feel no pain. He smiled again.

"I've done nothing more than put one of the base nerve centers in the top of your spinal cord to sleep for a little bit. It can't hurt you. You can actually move, if you like, but you have to convince your body that it's not being shut off from the brain. It gets confused, poor thing."

She laughed a soft, humming chuckle. When she spoke again, it was with a more serious tone, but no less friendly.

"From here, I can administer the counteragent that we've been given...or I can take your head in my hands and lift it free from your spinal cord."

The way she said it was so calm, so sweetly normal, that if not for the danger behind her words' meaning, she might have been suggesting a new way to tie his shoes or make a telephone call.

"Can you do that?" He felt her hands warm against his forehead, where they rested.

"I can do much more than that. I can make the pain stop instantly or I can draw it out so that you'll die in a couple of days from the stress of the pain." Her eyes were like two, very still pools of water that showed him his own face with the reflection of madness still there.

His thoughts were still muddled, but for some reason, the buildup of quicksilver in his blood wasn't hurting anymore. The headache was gone.

"What does that feel like?" It was a sigh coming from his throat.

"Like I'm skinning you alive without laying a knife to you." She whispered back to him, in the tones of sharing a secret.

The hammer went back on Hobbes' gun.

"No, dammit, she'll kill him before you even get the shot off, Agent Hobbes!"

Darien found that he could turn his head just to the left to see his partner's eyes wide with fear and disgust. Ciara Mackenzie, beside him with her deathly still expression, was not stopping Hobbes, but the shot hadn't been fired yet.

The red that soaked the silk of the dove-white dress captivated him momentarily. It was starting to turn brown and in his sight, it was like the blossoms of some exotic, hothouse flower had sprung up over her body, from top to bottom.

His Keeper stood, with arms folded, worried but solemn. He knew then that she had the truth on her side---Harmony could do what she'd whispered. The Keeper had seen it happen, just like Agent Mackenzie had seen it before.

"The ball's in your court, girl." Ciara's coldness chilled the air in the lab by twenty degrees. "What will you do?"

"No--it's not." Hobbes moved then, preparing for the shot.

Before he could get the trigger pulled, the tall woman in her white silk with the red blood blossoms put his partner on a brick wall. He struggled, under her hands that held him by the front of his tuxedo jacket.

"You will not force her hand, Bobby Hobbes, understand?" It was a low, threatening sound. "She can kill you more ways than you've dreamed are possible! If she kills him, I'll make sure you're locked in a room alone with her next!"

Before the older agent could speak, the gun was taken from his hand, and she'd leaned in close to him, her eyes narrowed and hard. Against his ear, she whispered so low that it couldn't be made out.

Whatever she said, Hobbes' face went completely lax and he stopped fighting. When Ciara Mackenzie let him go, he slid down the wall the last foot and didn't move away from the wall for a long moment, but stood very still.

"Why don't we go to the other room and let Harmony and Darien handle this?"

The Keeper spoke authoratively and Hobbes started to speak against the suggestion but then Ciara turned and looked at him again. Darien watched his partner shut up under that dark silver glare. The smaller man walked away, leaving the lab, followed by the two women.

Once they were gone, Harmony picked up the needle, examined it, flicked it gently, and pushed the last squirt of air out of the barrel, losing only a few drops of counteragent.

"Give me your wrist."

He lifted his hand, carefully, to face upwards, exposing the bare flesh there, above his snake tattoo monitor that was covered by the watch again. With a careful movement, she wiped the skin of his wrist with the damp cotton and discarded it onto her lap, near him somewhere.

Before he knew that she was going to inject him, the needle had slid quickly and efficiently into one of the large, exposed veins of his wrist. It came out clean and easy. She used the same piece of cotton to wipe the puncture wound. Both syringe and cotton disappeared.

"Darien...do you want me to take the pain away?" The voice caressed him as the hands rested on each side of his head. He looked up into her face again and saw understanding, compassion, and the love she felt.

Her hands moved to the back of his head; slowly they'd slid around to cup at the base of his skull, massaging that tiny point she'd twisted in on before. He felt the inside of his head pop and his heart skipped a beat to hear it, feel it.

Her hands moved again, around and downwards, to take his fingers where they lay on his chest. She rubbed them carefully, moving her smaller hands down over his and then between the fingers themselves.

"I wanna ask you something first, Songbird." His voice was louder; now that they were alone, he could do this---speak without fear of pushing the wrong buttons. His partner had been so close to killing this young woman who, instead of killing him, had brought a sense of safety to his mind. He felt safe now.

"I'm listening." It was like lying in between the lion's paws. He knew she had the ability to kill him and yet, she didn't seem hyped to the idea. In fact, she seemed quite content where she was, with what she was doing. She'd relieved his pain and given him his counteragent.

She could snap his neck so easily, but she was choosing to comfort him. Harmony had offered to do what no one else would; end the pain by letting him go. Darien knew it had to be because of what she was. He'd only been going through this for months...she'd been dealing with it for ten years, for her whole life, actually.

"Do you want to die, Songbird?" He knew then where it had come from...it was Kevin's name for her. The private nickname he'd given the child. In the letters, somewhere...

"No." She shook her head, her hair falling down over her face, cupping the soft-looking cheeks. "I want to live forever. It's just the pain I hate."

"Why did you offer me a chance to escape and you won't do the same--you must hate this life." Darien raised his hands to touch the hair that hung over his face. Her hands came with his, brushing at the strands of brown.

"I want to live because of Kevin's faith. Does that make sense to you?" Her smile was like an angel's leaning over him. An Angel of Death.

"Kevin's faith? What're you talking about, Harmony?" He didn't understand and shook his head at her.

"It all comes down to what he believed about us. He once told me that you were a good man, Darien. He saw your faults and loved you. He said I was a good girl, he knew what I could do, you know---he saw me do it and loved me as his friend anyway." Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "He had faith in us. I had faith in him and what he thought. I’ll live for that."

"Harmony, Kev's dead." It was a whisper; he feared to say it any louder and didn't understand his own fear---what did he have to be afraid of in that statement?

"No, he's not. Not as long as we live. Not as long as the Keeper lives. Not as long as Ciara lives...Kevin will live forever, I believe." Her voice had gotten louder, stronger, as she spoke her faith out loud. "It all comes down to if."

"Why if?" Puzzled, he'd shifted on her lap and now saw her from a new angle, one that didn't require him to view her upside down.

"If we believe, then it will be." She laughed then, an easy sound that came from her gut. "That's what he used to tell me."

Darien's heart ached again, thinking of those old letters in his pocket. The madness was completely gone. And he remembered If.

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings..."

It hung in the air between them. Then, he saw the tears disappear from her eyes without ever being shed.

"That's faith. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone."

Between the two people hung the words to the poem that his brother had given to them both; unspoken and yet heard.

"And so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them 'Hold on'." Darien couldn't resist whispering it, finishing the line she'd begun.

"Don't you want to find out what you can do with what he gave you?" She spoke as he stopped whispering, her voice louder and nearly a challenge.

Darien felt a moment of panic; this girl, a woman with some of the deadliest gifts in the world, had the faith he'd refused. And still refused. He didn't have it in him to hold.

He ran a hand down her arm and touched one of the electrodes on her. It was stuck to her skin, with its little metal running through the plastic. He slowly pulled at it, peeling it from her arm carefully.

Looking up, he saw her grinning broadly. She whispered. "Lab rat, huh?"

"Hey, I'm the guinea pig, don't look at me." He rolled over and sat up, staying near.

She continued to sit with him, cross-legged, as he began to pull the electrodes from her body, one by one. The skin behind them was sticky from the glue, but it would come off with time...it was just something that had to be done.

"You know what? I think I have to pee." Her eyes narrowed down into a squint as she grinned, embarrassed.

He grimaced at her, mimicking her squint. "You know what? I'm hungry."

"Well, what're we doing down here in the damn basement when we could go get a burger or something? Are we losers or what?" Her voice cracked and she started laughing.

"What?" Darien fought for a moment with the jacket he wore. Getting it off, he draped it around her shoulders.

"Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, and---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son." Her voice, dipping slightly deeper than her natural pitch, changed in accent and rhythm. She sounded like Kevin suddenly, a good imitation.

Darien stared at her blankly for a long moment and then began to laugh with Harmony, until they were both sitting bent over, knee to knee, with their head pressed together at the top, sharing the memory.

"Kipling..." It came from behind, at the doorway. Darien wiped at his face and turned his head to see Hobbes standing there in front of the two, taller women. His partner's hands were on his hips and his jacket was gone. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down and hung open.

The agent looked like he'd been to hell. Darien fought the urge to ask him what they'd been doing in there, so quiet.

Hobbes knew Kipling? Now, that was another facet of his partner he needed to find out more about.

"So, have the two of you come back from the dark side, yet?" It was sarcastic and a total reversal of how he'd been when he'd been escorted out of the room.

Moving past the frazzled-looking agent, the Keeper and Ciara came at them, with wariness in their faces.

"Don't worry, buddy, I still prefer you for a partner." Darien couldn't resist a small victory over his partner, even if is was a tiny one. "I mean, if not for me, you'd probably get stuck with Agent Mackenzie."

"Yeh, well, I can see why you prefer someone who knows what the hell they're doing. If you took Harmony as a partner, nothing would ever get done. You'd either kill each other or Mickey-Mouse it to death!"

Hands lifted Harmony away from his side, still in his jacket. She let Ciara walk her away without a complaint.

His Keeper was hovering near, squatting by his knee, checking his eyes and monitor. He wanted to shake her off, but instead let her do her job. Darien watched as Ciara passed Hobbes and ducked her head to whisper to the young woman she had by the elbow.

Harmony shook her friend off and turned around to look at Hobbes. She walked towards him, in a sideways manner, eyeing him. In the jacket that went down to her knees, she looked very funny to Darien, who suppressed another snicker at the expression on his partner's face.

It was going to be a long time before Bobby Hobbes trusted Harmony; he'd seen too much without knowing the person inside the body.

"You know what I want?" She stopped walking towards him when he involuntarily bumped into the wall behind him.

The Keeper looked up then, over her shoulder, in askance.

"I loved my fun time with Darien, but do you think my next play date could be with you?" Harmony’s tone was childish. "Say yes. Please? In a locked room? Say on Saturday at noon? You're not doing anything then, are you?"

He couldn't stop himself from snorting this time; Darien quietly laughed at the look on his partner's face. Hobbes gathered his nerves up and stood straight, looking down at the girl whose face was glowing with the need to laugh.

"You don't bite, do you?"

She grinned slowly, then, exposing every tooth that was available. In a sweet, little-girl voice, she spoke, looking up at him from under her lashes. Trying to make him laugh. "Only if you ask. I promise to play nice with you. I don't normally break my friends’ toys, Agent Hobbes."

Darien saw the man's expression change from an angry fear to one that was mirrored by Ciara Mackenzie. They both looked highly amused. Harmony walked on, headed to the other room. As she got to the doorway, she turned and looked at him, where he still sat, cross-legged, in the floor.

"Hey, Guinea Pig."

Everyone looked at her, including Agent Mackenzie, who'd stayed beside Bobby Hobbes, her arms folded behind her back in that all, too familiar Federal Agent way.

"What's up, Lab Rat?" He looked around his Keeper's shoulder.

"Never forget what they did to you, but don't let them know you remember it. They'll use it against you every time." The young woman's face was worn and tired, but happy-looking. "That goes for the good and the bad."

He nodded and watched her leave, to get dressed. Once she was gone, he met his Keeper's eyes.

"What did you two talk about, Darien?" It was not entirely a worried question; there was a quiet emotion coming from his Keeper---respect.

"I just reminded her of what she is and she reminded me who I am."

He started to elaborate on it, but a voice yelled from the next room, excitedly.

"Oh, hey--are we still on for dinner? You guys like Chinese?"

Ciara Mackenzie looked down at Hobbes, who looked at Darien and the Keeper and the rumpled agent smiled, starting to button his shirt up.

"It's someone else's turn to pay---I had to pay for the book."

@@@

Chapter 19:

"Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome." I have to say, my childhood was fairly uneven and sort of different from most kid's, but I had nothing on the young woman I'd come to understand and I know how corny it sounds, but I was even thinking of her as possibly some new form of family. Perhaps we were replacing Kevin for each other.

She'd overcome a lifetime of abuses; needles, prodding, and stainless steel beds where surgeries had been performed, changing her forever---taking any chance at being normal and tossing it in the file with the physical evaluations and psychological profiling.

Harmony Corwin was a child that, despite her being able kill without conscience, had learned the lessons I'd once believed were nonessential. To her, faith was my brother's gift to us. I sincerely believe in making my own destiny---but I had an idea that destiny had a few tricks up it's sleeve for both of us, courtesy of my brother, who had caused us to become related through our experiences. He had a lot of secrets, you know.

We weren't just experiments, we were people who had been given a chance to make a difference, like the Keeper had said from the beginning of our relationship. That's right out of Disney, right?

Well, I hadn't solved the whole puzzle yet---the binders in the bookstore had been explained, but somehow I didn't believe the ISBN story.

It had something to do with Neon Blue, I was sure---maybe the bigger money she'd been using to pay for the serum's creation had been coming from hacking.

I also guessed I would never understand why Harmony Corwin hadn't killed me, as she said she would in the lab last night. Maybe that's the faith part. Maybe it's because she equated me with Kevin, now, and couldn't hurt me if she wanted to. After all, she wasn't Ciara Mackenzie, whom I believed could kill any of us if called to do so---even the Keeper or Harmony.

Ciara Mackenzie seemed so very much older than she appeared to be---only the way she talked gave her away as being more than she masked herself to be. She talked like the agent she was; many long years of service and belief in the government she worked so hard for. But, she looked like she was almost my age, unless I thought about her eyes.

In the moment she'd appeared in the doorway at the conference room in the Hotel, saving my butt---at that moment, she'd looked ageless and, thinking back on it, I can't help but believe that she did die in that room after I ran. I don't know why I think so---but I do.

Harmony had been the case where Ciara's loyalty to that government had been tested and she'd passed a different kind of test; one of the heart. Agent Mackenzie's secrets were still part of the mystery and I really wanted to know what she was--no one should stay the same for over ten years. Was she an experiment that had never been disclosed? I had to talk to Hobbes still yet and find out what his happy hacker had found.

Harmony's ability as a computer hacker was known---she was on file as being one of the best, but she'd deliberately left tracks in order to call down the Agency on her activities. She'd been asking for help without saying a word. In a way, it had been calling home for someone to come give her a hand out of trouble.

And the Official had known, somehow, that this was what was going on; he'd sent us, knowing what I would do beforehand, and knowing that once Ciara Mackenzie had found us, she would put our assistance to use, drawing herself back to the Agency service she'd left behind.

The fat man had used us as bait, like a calling card. He'd made the whole thing up about the others in that file, the subversives and the crazed hippies that visited the bookstore. We'd found that out last night, from both women, over a really good meal of Chinese food.

He'd given us red herrings to look at while we staked out the mysterious agent and her friend. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. What he had wanted us to do was get the truth from the resurfaced missing agent and let her decide what to do with the new, available chance to work for the government again.

It was a dirty trick, but it had worked.

I read those letters again, once I was alone at home. I stared at the painting, where I'd placed it against the wall. I gave thought to what they said about the Kevin that written those thoughts down in his own hand.

And I made the decision that these two women couldn't walk out of my life. Even if the case was over and the bad guys were caught, I had to make sure that I never lost track of them the way I'd lost track of Kevin over the years.

With those thoughts, I'd gotten some rest and prepared for the next day, when we would be debriefed for what we'd learned...and maybe I'd find out how Agent Mackenzie had managed to escape the Hotel Rimbaud when I'd been positive she'd not gotten out alive.

Some of the answers to my questions were at my fingertips and I didn't even know it.

@@@

"So, what did your friends find out about our buddies at the bookstore?"

Hobbes leaned on the hood of the van and the words took their time sinking in. When the older agent looked up, he was frowning. He crossed his arms on his chest.

Darien stepped around the van's rust-ridden quarter panel and went to stand against the grill like his partner.

"Well, Neon Blue's activities are centered on that shop. She's like a big avatar in the world of hacking files around here, selling disks of information to gamesters."

"Gamesters?" Darien shook his head, the word meant nothing to him.

"Yeh, hotshot. Computer game codes. Neon Blues' recent, main revenue comes from hacking codes in computer games and little stuff like that. She sells it to teenagers who come to her shop. Apparently, she hacks the information and burns it to disks. Then, the kids come to The Neon Silence and get the stuff." Bobby Hobbes' eyes narrowed as he looked around, watching the street.

"Good money in that?" Darien wasn't surprised. It could explain the binders full of columns of numbers.

"Hell yeh. She makes great money at that. According to what I was told, she makes upwards of fifty to a hundred for every disk she burns with the codes." Hobbes turned to face him, a little sarcastic smile on his face. "We knew she was doing something illegal---she was hacking government files from the Agency, but that small stuff's not enough to even consider taking her down for."

"We're not taking her down for it. I think she's been paying for her shots with that money. You know that stuff can't be cheap and the Agency doesn't have the funds for my counteragent half the time, the serum she needs would be out of the question." He scratched his arm, deep in thought.

After going invisible, his skin always got dry and he needed some more of the lotion that the Keeper kept on supply for him; he'd have to make a trip to the lab after the debriefing. It helped with the dryness, but enhanced the opening of his pores for the quicksilver.

"Makes sense, Fawkes. If they give you a hard time over the counteragent, then the Keeper would definitely not be able to easily write off a series of shots and time spent working on Harmony Corwin." His partner stared at the street again, seeming to be watching for someone paying too close attention to the two agents who were hanging out in the parking lot.

"I think she was working mostly on her own time."

"Yeh, Agent Mackenzie told me yesterday that she gets a shot every cycle, like the boosters you need and then gets a big one every two weeks, trying to keep the build-up from happening."

Bobby Hobbes looked at him and the look in his eyes was concerned. When he spoke again, it was gruffer, but full of that emotion.

"So, are you sure you're okay, now? She took you down hard last night. I heard your head hit the floor. Nothing broken?"

"I'm fine, man. I think I understand it now." Darien looked at his arm, which he'd been scratching. He was going to take the hide off of himself with all the digging he'd been doing since last night. "What did they say about Agent Mackenzie?"

"Oh, now...that's a good story. You ready for this crap? She really was a test subject for your brother's quicksilver experiments at one point. She willingly let him inject quicksilver into her, to test its viability--you know, to see if it would poison the blood."

"Okay." Darien nodded, pursing his mouth in thought. It made sense, even if it was suicidal of the woman. "But what is she, Hobbes? Did they find that out?"

"Hold on now." His partner chuckled. "You're getting ahead of yourself. Agent Ciara Mackenzie's service record seems to be really high classified, you know? My hacker friend said there’s not much to be found past what I gave you yesterday. She’s a kite agent for the CIA and seems to have a penchant for dead partners…"

Looking at Hobbes, Darien's scalp prickled at the words.

"I bet the boss knows more than he'd ever tell us." Darien was speculative. Had Kevin known all this and more? It was a good chance that his older brother had known more than anyone else about the agent who'd willingly let him test quicksilver on her body.

"You can bet your next paycheck on it, if you want. Tomorrow's payday. You owe me, anyway, why not hand the whole thing over as well?"

Darien turned to give his partner a dirty look. At that moment, the familiar sound of a motorcycle approached. They both looked up in time to see it turn the corner, shining like black water under the sun's glare.

Ciara Mackenzie had shown up for the debriefing and Harmony was with her.

Pulling up to the front of the van, the Harley thrummed and raced momentarily as the agent gunned the engine.

With a booted foot, the kickstand came down and the brutal motor was shut off.

The smaller woman on the back took her hands away from her friend's leather-clad ribs and proceeded to remove the helmet she wore.

Darien grinned as it came off, revealing a happy Harmony who wore her long, brown hair in twin pigtails, like a small girl might wear. Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled tight against her round skull back into the two wavy-curled ponytails that stuck out behind her ears.

She looked like a schoolgirl. Swinging off the massive, black motorcycle, she spoke to him.

"Hey, Guinea Pig---did you get a chance to see the Keeper yet? Is she in?"

Darien shook his head and stared at her, the grin still plastered on his face.

She was dressed in a thigh-length skirt that flowed like satin over her bare legs. It was the same color of intense, bright blue as the coat the angel wore in the painting she'd done---the one that still sat against the wall in his apartment.

"I decided to try the tests again today, while you guys are in getting your asses chewed out for blowing the cover last night." Her eyes twinkled blue in the sunlight and he was momentarily back in the lab, removing the monitor pads from her body, reciting a poem with her.

The pink shirt she wore made her eyes look even wider and the ocean in them was winning its battle over the storm colors, blue over tan. The spandex shirt was form fitting and tight across her middle, showing a thin line of her belly and ribs.

She didn't look like any librarian he'd ever seen now. She looked her age; a twenty-year old kid who was supposed to be in school at some college overseas in Switzerland. Harmony looked about as dangerous as a ball of cotton candy.

"Well, I guess the Keeper does need that hour of calm from you. If you can lay still long enough---"

Her laughter was infectious. He chuckled as she covered her mouth to hide the wide-open loudness of the sound.

He guessed, by meeting her eyes that she was wearing the contact lenses she'd said last night, with a sound of mild contempt, made her look like a baby---the peaches and cream face that he was looking at was devoid of glasses and looked innocent, like a child's should.

A spy or soldier like Harmony would be deceptive; she could fool anyone into believing the mask she wore---unless she was seen in action, no one would believe that the young woman could do anything malicious or dangerous.

"Well, she says she needs that control of an hour at calm before she can start running the other parts of the stress test. I guess I'll just have to find some way to lay still for an hour, that's all." She put her hands behind her and shuffled her feet. She was wearing the mary jane shoes again.

She really did look like a little girl and he knew it was all part of the act---or was it? Was this the real her and the serious, professional woman in the bookstore the con's mask? He had a feeling he'd never know.

He'd seen and felt her hands in action and knew what she was and still, he couldn't help but admire that mask. She was beautiful, in a round-cheeked, girl-next-door way, and it wasn't just the genetic roulette that had made her body and face so easy to look at. It went deeper than the ability she had to take a person apart at the physical seams without a qualm or breach of conscience.

Ciara Mackenzie had parked the bike and was now standing in front of Bobby Hobbes with her crooked smile, having removed her own helmet to reveal her long, angular face with it's freckles and a tight braid that ran down past her shoulders. They had spoken, softly, to each other, in greeting. The black leather was back in place and she looked trim and dangerously at ease.

Darien was desperate to find out what the secret was that the two agents had shared.

"I guess it's time." Hobbes looked at his watch. "The boss said eleven and it's not quite an hour til then."

"Well, why don't you take Harmony on down to the lab and make sure she doesn't bite or scare anyone before she gets there, Agent Hobbes? That shirt could blind Eberts, I believe, if you run into him." The smirk on Ciara Mackenzie's face as she met Hobbes' eyes was sarcastic.

"Oh, sure. You want me to babysit for you now. I thought you were her Keeper. Come on, kid, let's go." Bobby Hobbes stood up straight and unfolded his arms. "Be sure to get Fawkes to the meeting on time."

Darien watched as the two walked away, trying not to laugh out loud at the scene. Hobbes made his way down the parking lot and across the street with his hands in his pockets, his attitude obvious in his strutting gait.

As the agent walked, Harmony edged closer to him, making Hobbes change his step as he moved sideways to avoid the girlish young woman who was the same height.

She continued to edge closer to him, making Bobby Hobbes step sideways over and over. Finally, Harmony got next to him and wrapped a bare arm around the older agent's waist in an overly friendly manner and the pig-tailed head had gone down on his shoulder.

Darien began to laugh as he saw Bobby Hobbes step out from under the slender arm that had been flung around him. Harmony came around on him, stopping his stride, and what she did made Darien lose his breath where he stood as he couldn't stop laughing.

Harmony's hand came up faster than the eye could see and tweaked Agent Hobbes' nose. Then she took off running, her feet fast and kicking up the ends of her skirt as it flared on her thighs, as she rounded the corner of the Federal building.

As she cornered, there was a Charlie Chaplin moment where she skid in her shoes sideways and caught herself on the light post before being propelled into the open street.

"Hey, you better run, kid!" Hobbes' shout was indignant. "You better run and hide! This is Bobby Hobbes you're fooling with!"

Turning his head away from the comedy in progress, Darien Fawkes met Agent Mackenzie's eyes and saw the same amusement there.

"She likes him." The accent thickened for a moment. "As long as he keeps it up, she'll play with him that way."

"Can I ask you a question that only you can answer?" Darien looked at his watch and then at her, where she'd taken his partner's place against the van.

"As long as it's not classified, I'll answer." The laughter in her face changed to a more guarded smile.

"What did you do when you went to get Hobbes to come to the office yesterday? He was really shook up by it."

"Come on, I'll show you." She used her head to indicate down the side of the van.

@@@

Chapter 20:

Going with her, he opened the back of the van when she reached it. Inside, the air was baking from being closed up.

"Did you think I wouldn't guess about the bug on the desk in the office?"

Her words made him cringe. Darien shrugged as they got into the van's anterior and shut the doors.

"I removed it this morning as well as checked the security tape for the apartment. The camera your partner planted is gone, so my privacy is once more in no danger."

"You saw what I did last night, right?" Darien sat down at the soundboard.

"Yes. Did you bring the evidence with you from the safe?"

He nodded and patted his leather coat's pocket. "I've got the papers and the disk. The letters are at home."

"Good. You keep them. I've got them memorized. If Harmony ever wants them, she can ask you. She said you can keep the painting, by the way." Her eyes gleamed like steel in the dimness of the van. "Harmony said you needed it."

"She might be right. Thank you for the letters. You knew I'd find them last night." It was a statement. He was thankful for the things he'd found in the letters that Kevin had written to this woman and to Harmony while apart from them.

To him, Songbird was more than real now---she'd just skipped around the corner of the building that could be considered home now. To him, Ciara Mackenzie knew more about his brother than he did---a sad thought until he realized he had time to find out the secrets, if he stayed on her good side.

"I knew you needed them. The same way you needed the painting. Harmony saw the security tape with me---she's begun a new painting for our wall safe."

Ciara's mouth had gone upwards, in her odd, sideways smile. She brushed at the braid that hung down her back with a leather-gloved hand, pulling her hair from her face. "Kevin would be very proud of her, you know. The way she’s accepting the change in her life."

Her face grew sad as she said Kevin's name, the smile turning inwards towards memory.

"Tell me what you did to Hobbes." It was time to change the subject, while they had time to make the meeting in the Official's office.

"You're not the only one who loves to plant bugs. I knew you were watching us, but I decided to make sure you understood that I trusted you to never show the tape you got from my apartment." Her words held an unspoken threat.

"No need. The Keeper has the incriminating evidence---when Hobbes realized what he had, he edited it out of what we had to have for the boss."

"He won't see it. None of it. It's not important to him. Only what we did last night will be important to the Official." Her threat was still there. The air seemed even more stifling suddenly as Darien realized he was really alone with this semi-retired assassin.

"Hobbes edited the tapes to get what was important. I think it boiled down to only a few hours of tape. We got the conversation and the thing you did with the evidence yesterday morning." He tugged at the end of his tee shirt where it lay under his jacket and wondered why he was feeling his heart race. This woman had proved herself to be a competent agent of the government and to be something of a friend. Why was he so nervous?

"Good. Bring it to the debriefing. Along with the audio from the office. Now," Her smile was back and the look in her eyes melted from stony ice to silver fire with a mischievous wink. "You can see what Agent Hobbes got to experience first hand."

She stood up from her place on the stool and moved to the front of the interior. With her long, leather-clad fingers, she removed something that hung in the corner that he'd not noticed. She laid it down on the soundboard's counter and then removed a disk in a jewel case from a pocket, where it had been riding against her waist.

"That is a digital camera like the one Hobbes planted in my apartment. It has full sound and visual. Would you like to see what it taped yesterday on the computer's hard drive security scanner?" She waved the disk at him, her eyes still full of mischief. One eyebrow had quirked upwards.

He nodded and she stepped closer, moving past him. Turning on the monitor, she slid the disk into the drive they'd acquired through haggling for some more equipment.

She took her place behind him, standing with her feet planted. Darien looked at her, wondering again how she could dress in black leather that covered every inch of her long body from neck down and not sweat. He was dressed in trousers and a tee shirt with his jacket and felt like he was roasting in the van.

The screen of the monitor lit up and showed him the interior where he now sat.

At the board he was at, Hobbes sat with his head down on his arms. The speakers played the sound of his gentle, quiet snores.

"He fell asleep on duty." Darien grinned. "I can't believe the guy fell asleep. Wait until I tell him about that---he's never going to live it down!"

"Watch." Her word was an order. "You have only touched the tip of the truth."

As he watched, Hobbes slept peacefully as the monitor he sat at played out a picture of Ciara Mackenzie moving out of sight, dressed as she was now, leaving the apartment.

Then, in a few moments, he saw Ciara Mackenzie enter the van quietly.

"I can't believe you managed to sneak a camera in on us---how did you do it?" He looked at the monitor as he spoke.

"You went for lunch, Darien Fawkes, and locks are a trick of the trade for people like me, just like they are for thieves."

Without turning to seek her expression, he smiled. She had a point. It wasn't as if assassins were normally invited in.

On the monitor, he watched as the woman took Hobbes' handcuffs right off of him without so much as making the man shift in his sleep. The long, black-gloved hand dipped into the agent's jacket pocket and came up with the handcuffs.

"I just can't believe he didn't hear you---he's so tightly wound."

"He's tightly wound, alright. He proved it, too. I think he was having a really good dream." She chuckled behind him, the sound really pleasant in the closed interior of the van.

He saw on the screen as the tall woman used the handcuffs to very quickly incapacitate his partner. Hobbes fought as his hands were taken behind him and pinned with the metal rings. Darien started laughing at the things Bobby Hobbes said.

"He was really pissed, wasn't he?" He shook his head and continued to watch in amazement. "I can't imagine what he might have thought---he must have believed he was a dead man."

"As well he should have. He knew what I was capable of. He didn't wet himself, though, and I admire that in a man who's just been taken. I've seen the best break down and cry, kid, and Bobby Hobbes handled it better than the best." Ciara's voice was full of respect and admiration for the agent she'd caught yesterday.

On screen, Ciara Mackenzie turned Hobbes and slammed him into the wall of the van, very close to the tiny camera. The faces and forms of the two government agents filled the camera's angle.

Silent, Darien listened to the conversation that had taken place while he was at the office the day before.

'What the fuck are you doin', Mackenzie? Shoulda known you'd do this---'

'Shut up, Bobby. The boss wants to see you in his office now.' Her voice was soft and dangerous in the monitor's speakers.

'Who's boss---yours or mine?!' Hobbes struggled to get free from the body that had pinned him from behind.

The picture was amazing. Hobbes, pressed to the wall of the van, under the black-leathered body of the lanky, shapely form of Agent Mackenzie. Darien couldn't help but stare. It would have been funny or even sexy if not for Hobbes' panic that was slowly being put under control on that familiar face, so close to the camera that they'd not even known was there.

'You're gonna be working with me for awhile, so you ought to relax and let me check you out here.'

One black-gloved hand moved efficiently over Hobbes' body, searching for weapons. Bobby Hobbes groaned in horror and closed his eyes, gathering his control. When they opened again, it was with a sudden movement, and he was calm on screen. His eyes were wide as the hands moved down on him.

'My, my---what do we have here. We're packing more than standard Agency firepower, aren't we?'

'The gun's in my pocket, lady.'

'Not exactly regulation to walk around with that, is it? What was going on in here? Dreaming of what you caught on tape last night? Enjoy that, did you?'

Hobbes' eyes widened and his mouth opened to speak but all that came out was a low, animal sound somewhere close to a whine of torment. His head shifted under the hand that held his face down on the metal wall.

'I'm not taking your piece from you, Bobby. You can keep that .9 you're carrying, but this...'

Silence on the tape as the black leather form moved against his partner's back. The gloved hand never shifted where it had been placed on the front of Hobbes' trousers.

'I think you need to remember something, Agent Hobbes. What's good for the goose is also very good for the gander. The next time you want to get your rocks off, remember what I did to you. Very instructive, don't you think?'

'I doubt I'm gonna fuckin' forget.' The sarcasm in his partner's voice didn't match the worried look on his face. 'Does Fawkes know you're doin' this?'

'Of course not. When the Official called, I promised I'd bring you in with me. Without the handcuffs, unfortunately, so I'm gonna have to let you go now.'

The hand was removed and dipped into the jacket pocket again, coming up with the tiny, silver key. With a clicking sound, the handcuffs were removed and placed back into the pocket before she moved away from the hold she had on Hobbes' body.

Still pressed to his back, she leaned closer to his ear and smiled in a seductive way. It was enough to make Darien shiver---her face laying against his partner's head and her words took his breath away.

'Next time, it's your turn, but now we have to go see the Official, so we don't have time to play anymore.'

Letting him go, she stepped back and moved quickly out of his way as Hobbes whirled around. The rumpled agent smoothed himself down and glared at her, twisting his handsome face into a snarl.

'There won't be a next time, you can bet on it.'

'Come on, Bobby, you'd like to play that game again, admit it---but now, we have to go to a meeting. Let's move.'

The expression on Bobby Hobbes' face changed and became questioning. 'Next time, you're serious? You got problems, lady.'

The smaller agent had begun checking his pockets, making sure everything was in place.

'Everyone's got problems, mine are just more fun to play with. My bike is waiting around the corner.'

'Let's take the van.' Hobbes had satisfied himself that nothing was gone.

'Are you kidding? I wouldn't ride in this heap of shit to Charlie Borden’s funeral, much less to see him about the assignment we're gonna be on tonight.'

'You got a point.' A smile played on Hobbes' face, and Darien wondered if it had to do with the idea of the Official's funeral, the offered chance to ride the beautiful Harley, or at the concept of another time of playing with handcuffs where the woman was concerned.

The two agents left, slamming the van's door, leaving the interior in darkness.

Darien stopped the disk and removed it. Slipping it back into the jewel case, he turned and offered it to the woman who stood, her face dead-pan, still behind him.

"Keep it, if you like. I've got a copy. He's fun to play with." The sly smile threatened to slide onto her strong features.

He put the disk on the soundboard counter. "I'm gonna leave it for him. It really should go to him---he never even knew he was starring in a little S&M film."

"Whatever." Lifting his wrist then, she'd looked at his watch and the serious look was cemented. "We gotta go, Legs."

@@@

"You destroyed that room, let Fawkes get close to quicksilver madness, and blew your cover, Agent Mackenzie. You're a better agent than that. How do you account for having let the assignment get out of control?"

The Official's voice was cold as he stared, his blue eyes hard, at the woman who'd put her feet on his desk again. The debriefing had been going on for some time, having covered the basics of what they'd done and what they'd found out, leaving out the aftermath of what had gone down in the lab. Now, the other aspects, such as blame for the screw-up, were being handled.

"Would you have let me put Agent Fawkes' life at risk? He was trapped and I wasn't going to let him go past thirty minutes." Ciara Mackenzie's tone was as frigid as the boss' voice.

"You got the evidence, but now Congressman Edgeley knows we were there last night. There was a telephone call made from that conference room to an unknown number. We believe he called Arnaud---or the others in this association."

"Dammit." It was all she had to say in response. "When I catch up to Arnaud, I'm gonna twist that little asshole's guts up so bad that he can't eat much less take a shit."

"You said you could give us both of them, Edgeley as well as Arnaud." The Official leaned across his desk and stood up, his bulk moving slowly. He was angry and it showed; his normally sphinx-like expression was disturbed.

"That evidence gives you Edgeley, sir." Eberts, trying to defuse the situation, spoke, indicating the tapes and the papers that lay in the cardboard box on the desk in front of Ciara Mackenzie's booted feet.

Darien and Hobbes looked at each other, thoughtfully. In a way, it was nice to let someone else take the heat for a screw-up, but this was starting to look like the female agent was going to get popped for something out of her control.

"It not only gives you the politician, boss, it might give you Arnaud, once we have him in custody." Bobby Hobbes shifted in his seat and crossed his hands in front of him.

Darien looked at him, remembering the disk's contents and desperately wanting to be there when his partner found it in the van.

"It does, huh?" The Official looked at them now, breaking the staring contest that had been going on with Ciara's ice-humored eyes. "Well, you're not going to bring him in. It's not your case."

"Well, if we're not gonna find him, why are you so pissed over this? We could do find the sneaky son of a bitch, you know." Darien looked at his partner, who shook his head and frowned.

"You have other work to do." The boss turned and looked at Eberts. "I want that file on my desk first thing after lunch. These two need to get started on it."

"Yes, sir." Eberts' face never changed expression as he stared ahead, staying out of the line of fire for now.

"So, you're just gonna let Arnaud go---just like that?" Darien, getting slightly upset, used his hands to cut the air in front of him as he snapped his fingers.

"Did I say that?" Under the boss' stare again, Darien Fawkes shrugged.

"I'm gonna find that prick, even if it kills me."

Her voice was like a vicious and quiet knife slicing through the pressure in the room. Both Hobbes and Darien turned and looked at her, where she sat, staring at the picture she held in her hands. It was an old shot taken of her prey shaking hands with Kevin Fawkes, years before. Both men smiled in the picture.

Ciara Mackenzie looked up at the Official and her smile was old and tired, odd to see in her youthful face.

"Where is she?" The boss' words were gentle now, aimed at the agent who'd spoken her malicious need for revenge so plainly.

"In the lab downstairs. Running a stress test with our Boy Wonder's Keeper." Hobbes interrupted the moment of understanding that had been going on. "I took her down there and she said she'd stay put until Agent Mackenzie came for her."

"Good. When we're finished, I want to see her." The Official's voice was all business again. "I want to talk to Harmony Corwin about her job."

He turned his laser-blue eyes back to the female agent who sat slouched in her seat with her crossed feet propped on the corner of his desk.

"You have the research and the researcher you need, but in exchange, you two work for me."

Darien sat up, alarmed. Agent Mackenzie was placing herself into the hands of the Agency again, as an operative and it sounded suspiciously like Harmony had just been hired against her will.

"Just like we agreed. As long as Harmony pays for the serum and the research, it's not a problem. I know how it works here, old friend. Money is always tight for this place. I want the best for her and I will have it." The threat was obvious in her words and the expression of hooded concentration on her face made Darien think of a snake suddenly.

"What she does on her own time is her business. You are her Keeper. Make sure she doesn't chew the leg off of some gullible suspect on the job, okay?"

There was something not being said here. Darien looked at Hobbes again and saw the same thoughts playing on his partner's face. Before he could ask the question, the more experienced agent voiced it.

"Am I hearing this right? Harmony is Agent Mackenzie's partner? As a hacker or as a field agent?"

"That's correct, Agent Hobbes. Working in the field as an operative was one of the reasons she was trained in the first place as a child." Eberts was now leafing through the box with his fingers, examining what the papers held.

"Her skills are sorely needed at the Agency. The Department of Fish and Game believe what they want to believe and then there's us, who hold the cards on this deal." The Official sat back down and took the box from Eberts, who stepped back into his spot at the back of the desk.

"You're gonna use them in exchange for the chance to research the work the kid's brother was doing?" Hobbes continued, scooting around in his seat, taking a glance at Darien and then at Ciara Mackenzie. "She's paying for this and you're putting her in the field? No wonder I can't get a calling card or a vacation."

"The money Harmony Corwin gives to the Agency is to create the serum she needs to stay balanced. The hours put into the work of research need to be paid for, too. That's why Agent Mackenzie and her partner are coming to work for us." Coming to the disk in the box, the boss took it out and looked at it carefully.

"Neon Blue's involvement with the Agency's as an operative will cut down on man hours spent in leg work gathering information. She might even become a really valuable asset to us, choosing to stay with us after the research is done."

"It's a fair trade, boys, believe me." Ciara turned her head to smile at them, sarcastically. "But, I don't see her staying after the serum is improved or the need for it is erased."

"Unless she has a reason to stay, right?" Darien tilted his head and smiled back, knowing that he'd just fumbled the ball by bringing this woman back into the life of being an operative, which she hadn't wanted.

She seemed content with it, though, and so it was perhaps not such a bad thing. She liked her work and Harmony needed the help that the Keeper could provide for her. Maybe it wasn't such a bad trade, after all.

"Boys, I need to talk to Agent Mackenzie alone, about her assignment. Be back here at two thirty; I have new work for you to do." The Official nodded, dismissing them from the room.

He stood up, followed by Hobbes. They could make the trip down stairs to the lab, go grab a bite to eat, and be back in time to get the new assignment.

Ciara Mackenzie stood with them, walking to the door, quietly making her excuse to the Official. "I'll be back, chief."

Outside, with the door closed, Darien leaned on the wall and ran his hands through his hair, bothered with how it had gone down.

"He's gonna ream you for letting it get out of control last night, isn't he? He only stopped in there because he doesn't want us to hear it." Hobbes, with his hands tucked into his pockets, rocked on his heels for a moment and stared at the floor. "I guess I should say congrats for coming back on board."

"Thanks, Bobby. It'll be nice working here again. It's better than the other boy's club any day. I never was too fond of the Federal Bureau of Irritation and he's a better boss than most for what I do outside of the Agency, if you have to have a boss." Ciara rubbed her chin and smiled crookedly at the smaller man. "I shouldn't be long in here. Check on Harmony for me and you're both invited to dinner, if you're not working."

Darien looked up then, having exhausted his disgust for having blown the debriefing. "You're not gonna really come back here every day like us and work for that slob, are you?"

"I am. He's got a point about this. I'm not only a killer---I'm not too bad with the surveillance bit, you know?" Her eye winked at him, reminding him then of the disk that lay in the van. Once Hobbes saw it, he was going to be eating crow from Darien for a long time.

"Not to mention, I can scare the hell out of people with the proper smile, and that's a valuable thing to be able to keep control of." Ciara Mackenzie lowered her own head and favored them both with a laugh. "So, you go on and make sure Harmony hasn't torn the lab up and tonight, we can eat dinner at our place. Darien left his book there last night---he needs to come get that at the very least."

Darien saw Hobbes' blush before the man turned and strolled down the hallway. Turning back to the tall woman with the metal-colored eyes, he shrugged.

"Let's not make this like a family thing, okay? I mean, that's corny, alright?"

"You're not family, Darien. You're a friend and sometimes it's better than being family." Her eyes crinkled at the edges, turning upwards. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I'm sure Harmony would be disappointed if she couldn't torment your partner some more. She's really becoming fond of him. We won't see much of you while working."

"Yeh, well he's a fun guy to hang around." The grin he'd been hiding crept out and he started down the hallway, after his partner. It was time to go; he was stalling her from getting the ass-chewing they both knew was coming.

He turned at the corner, to find her standing motionless, head tilted sideways, with her arms crossed over her black leather-covered breasts. Ciara Mackenzie wore a gentle smile on her face as she watched him, suggesting that she was caught in a moment of memory, somewhere from her past.

"Don't let him get too loud. I don't wanna hear him all the way downstairs. It'll ruin my appetite." With his hand on the corner of the wall, he dead-panned, breaking her memories free.

The gentle look on her face became devious and she unfolded her hands to take the doorknob.

"Don't worry, Darien Fawkes. I've dealt with worse than him and survived. Anyway, if he gets too loud, I'll just de-bone him." Her deviousness curved the beautiful face into a sly smile. "It's what I do best."

"I'll bet." Darien slapped his palm on the wall. "Well, give him one for me, okay? I gotta go."

He watched her walk into the office, heard the door shut, and smiled. Friend, indeed. She was dangerous enough to be a threat to even her friends; he hated to think what she could represent to an enemy.

Darien Fawkes turned again and left, headed towards the labs where by now, Hobbes was probably pinned to a wall, being tortured by a gleeful young woman with electrodes on her body, while the Keeper was exasperatedly asking her to leave Agent Hobbes alone and let her finish the stress tests.

It certainly had become interesting suddenly to be working at the Agency and he knew he could bet his paycheck on the fact that it would continue to be that way from now on.

He couldn't lose. It was a sure thing.

END???