Book II Chapter 6

Molly Wu took a quick look around the parking structure, her eyes carefully sweeping it for possible danger, before stepping out of the elevator. The concrete building was cold and harsh, the artificial lighting casting hundreds of shadows between the parked cars that could have hidden a possible assailant. Not that she had any reason to expect someone to be hiding there but she was a cop, and a woman living alone in the big city, so such caution was as automatic as breathing. Still she had been here this late at night many times before, and when she stepped out into the middle of the aisle she did it with a firm confidence. The sound of her boot heals echoed back hollowly from off the walls, following her down the long aisle to the far end of the row where she had parked her Miata.

As she walked Molly moved her head slowly from side to side, rolling her shoulders, luxuriating in both the freedom of movement and the absence of pain. She was thoroughly enjoying the strange combination of languor and increased energy she always got after a visit to Dr. Addams. She’d almost be sorry when the treatments ended, but her back was coming along nicely. She wouldn’t be able to justify the expense much longer, and even the great medical plan that all city workers like her got had a limit to how much acupuncture they would pay for. Still, she could probably qualify for a couple of more sessions, and maybe even afford a few on her own dime. Maybe Dr. Addams could help her with her insomnia problem…

Movement ahead of her made Molly slow her steps but not stop, as a tall figure stepped from around the far corner. It was a little late in the evening, but not so much that it would be unusual to meet someone else returning for their car here. But then she realized that she had not heard his footsteps before, and in this echo chamber of a building she should have, unless he hadn’t been walking. Unless he had been waiting, just around the corner. Maybe waiting for her.

Her suspicions were confirmed, when the tall figure stopped in the middle of the aisle, looking directly at her, and then abruptly stepped to his left and leaned his long body casually against a car. Her car.

Molly came to a slow halt, watching the man before her, as he watched her in return. He made no move at all, threatening or otherwise, and so far not a word had been spoken, but the whole situation was setting off alarm bells in the back of her mind. Then she noticed that the man leaning against her car was wearing gloves, on a night when the temperature was still in the upper seventies. Molly let her hand make its way to her purse, and the .38 revolver she carried there.

“Nice to see you again, Inspector. I heard you were looking for me.”

Molly felt herself stiffen. She blinked, still not knowing who the man before her was, but suddenly positive she had met him before. That voice…?

“Still not quite there, huh? I don’t blame you, we only met briefly. And I was kind of overdressed at the time. Mount Davidson, does that ring any bells?”

Molly drew in a quick breath, her eyes widening. It was him! The man in black, the mysterious, so-called federal agent who had saved her life three months ago. Or was it, she asked herself, cautiously. There had been a small army on Mount Davidson after she had called for backup, including reporters, and her eyes had been blurred from the tear gas. Maybe he had talked to her then, and she just didn’t recognize him now, here in this dimly lit garage. It could be a disaster if she said anything about her rescuer, much less her current investigation, to some guy it turned out worked for one of the local news channels.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, friend. It was three months ago, and I met a lot of people that night.”

The man chuckled, a soft sound that rumbled from the depths of his chest. “Fair enough. You probably even told some of them what really happened that night. But I bet you never told anyone that you went through that entire fight with your tits hanging out and swinging in the wind.”

Molly choked and looked away, her face burning, but she quickly turned back. She stepped forward, letting her hand now slide away from her purse and the gun in there. She took the time to make a more careful inspection of the amused man leaning against her car, his arms now folded across his chest. About six foot one or two, she guessed, and a shade over two hundred pounds. He had sandy blonde hair, cut a little shaggy, with high cheekbones underneath a heavy brow. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, but from his light coloring she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were blue. He had a long, thin beak of a nose, with a crooked twist where it had been broken once upon a time, and although his chin was covered by a thick goatee she could tell that his jaw was square. His clothes were plain and unremarkable, a dark blue pea coat and a pair of faded blue jeans, above a scuffed pair of well used work boots. Nothing really memorable about the man, he could walk down any street in the city and never be noticed.

Which, if he was an undercover federal agent, would probably be a good thing.

“You’re right, I never told anybody about that little fact. So I guess that makes you the man who saved my life, right?”

The man shrugged. “Yeah, probably. Let’s just say the situation didn’t look good.”

“Yeah, right.” Molly’s lips quirked wryly. “Whatever, I’m grateful, and I owe you. So what are you here for, to collect on that debt? And by the way, how did you know that I’d be here tonight. Are you people following me?”

“No, we’re not following you. But you have a standing acupuncture appointment every two weeks with Dr. Jill Addams on the fourth floor here. Your city employee’s insurance pays for it, and I’m a Federal agent. You do the math.”

Molly frowned, but then dismissed it. There was no sense in getting angry about somebody poking into her private life, not when you consider that she spent all day doing the exact same thing to other people.

“That’s something else we have yet to verify. You say you’re a federal agent, but all I’ve got is your word for that. We spent the last couple of months talking to every alphabet soup agency there is, DEA, FBI, CIA. Everybody who uses undercover investigators, but not a one of them say that they have a team like yours working in our city. So do you want to tell me just who you really are now, or do you want to do it after I haul your ass in and charge you with impersonating a federal officer?”

The man on her car threw his head back and laughed, obviously not very impressed by her threat. “Oh come on now, Molly. Are you going to stand there and tell me with a straight face that the SFPD hasn’t been kept out of the loop before? Federal Agencies don’t like to share with local law, you know that. And how hard did your Lieutenant actually ask?”

She thought about that, but wryly concluded he was right. She hadn’t worked with the Washington types too often, but she had experienced some of the one-sided exchange of information they liked to practice, and she had heard a lot of tales from other cops, too. And without a specific agency to question, she was pretty sure that Lt. Burke wouldn’t have pushed too hard, either. It was entirely possible; she now realized that this man before her really was some sort of government agent.

“Okay, I’ll admit, grudgingly, that it’s just possible you are who you say you are…”

“Gee, thanks,” came the wry reply.

“And I accept the fact that you risked breaking cover to save my skinny little oriental ass, and I’m grateful. Did you get into any trouble for that?”

“A little, but not much. Especially after it all seemed to blow over without any mention of me or my team. But that’ll probably change, once Washington hears about your new investigation.”

Molly had the grace to feel guilty at those words. She cleared her throat, then said “Look, I am sorry about that, too, but you know how the game is played. I had to report you to my boss, and he had to find out who you were. And damn it, he’s got a right to! A Federal Task Force from an unknown agency operating in our city, we have a duty to ask questions. Just who the hell are you people, anyway?”

The man in the pea coat looked at her for awhile, his eyes hidden behind the mirrored lenses, making his thoughts totally unreadable as the silence dragged on. Molly stood her ground silently. Guilt was warring with anger in her, but her own stubbornness made her determined to win any waiting game the mysterious ‘agent’ wanted to play. Finally he shifted, seeming to come to a decision.

“You don’t need to know the name of our little family, Molly, so I’m not going to tell you. It’s just another three letter alphabet anagram anyway, totally meaningless outside of context. What I can tell you is that we were formed after the events of September eleventh, 2001. We were part of the response that followed the attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Our primary purpose is, and will always be, protecting America and its citizens from acts of terrorism from all sources, both foreign and domestic.

“My team and I are what’s called a JIC unit. Don’t bother trying to figure that out, it’s spook slang for ‘Just In Case’. Basically we’re here to keep an eye on a situation and the people involved in it, and to respond appropriately should anything happen. That’s what we were doing the night you got snatched at the Galleria.”

“I remember. You said you were planting surveillance on someone, which only halfway explains the freaky ninja outfit you were wearing. But what about that flash-bang that was thrown at the Galleria? Was that your people, also?”

“Guilty. That was my driver, actually. We were in the parking lot when everything went down, and we saw an opportunity to help when things went south, without endangering the integrity of the mission. So we took it.”

“‘Integrity of the mission’, huh? Alright, I can see protecting your cover. But that doesn’t explain away everything. You were there, so you must have been following me in that van for almost half an hour! You had me in sight all that time, but you never called it in, you just left me there. How do you justify something like that?” The fear that still sometimes woke her at nights was making Molly flush with anger now, as she thought about what could have happened to her that night. This man might have saved her life, but he had also endangered it, by leaving her in the hands of those killers so much longer that they needed to. She felt her resentment beginning to flair, bright and hot at the thought.

But the man leaning against her car was shaking his head. “Molly, you’re jumping to conclusions again. We never had you in sight. From the time you were grabbed to when we threw that grenade, almost five minutes had passed. You were long gone before we even got out of the parking lot. We were tracking the signal from your wire.”

Molly blinked, unsure now. “The wire…?

“We have better equipment available than the SFPD, but even we couldn’t pinpoint a moving radio source with the kind of hills that you’ve got in this town. We were trying, but the signal kept fading in and out. One of my people finally figured out from what those guys were saying that they might be taking you to Mt. Davidson, but that’s it. It was a gamble, but we had nothing else to go on, so we headed there. Believe me, if we had had anything concrete, anything at all, we would have broken cover and notified your people immediately. As it was, we were all very lucky that it turned out the way it did.”

Molly felt a shiver run down her spine, as she realized how much the man said was true. She had been very lucky that night!

“Okay, if I didn’t say it before, then thank you for saving my life. And I’m sorry that I jumped all over you just now. But I still need to know who you people are and what you were doing at a police stakeout in the first place.”

“I’ve already told you who we are, Molly, or at least as much as I intend to. And as for what we were doing at the Galleria that night, I would think it was obvious. We were watching you.”

He held up his hand to forestall her next question. “No, not you personally. We were watching your operation. We had finished up our assignment that night, and we had nothing better to do, so we decided to check it out. That’s it.”

Molly was stunned. Her life had been saved because this man had nothing better to do on a Friday night? Before she could respond, before she could even process this new thought, the man continued.

“Look, Molly, my team and I have a problem. It’s what happens when you take a group of highly trained, highly motivated men and woman, and you make them sit on their asses for almost two years. In all that time, we’ve done nothing more exciting than follow some people around who might or might not be enemies of our country. We’ve logged who they’ve met, gotten pictures, fingerprints and DNA samples where possible, and when we’re not doing that we’re training. Trying to stay in shape and be prepared ‘just in case’ something ever does happen. Believe me; morale in my unit was in the pits.”

The man leaning against her car looked Molly straight in the eye now, from over the rim of the mirrored sunglasses. For the first time that night she saw that his eyes were a deep, bottle glass green, not blue, as he continued in a more subdued, intense voice.

“But then we ran into you. For one night, my team and I got to be cops again. And we swore we weren’t going to just sit on our asses for another two years.”

Molly blinked, as the pieces began to fall together in her mind. “Wait a minute..! The vigilante incidents, they really were your people, weren’t they? That’s what you mean, you’re sending your agents out to take the law into their own hands, and all because they’re bored?!”

“We did it because we had lost our edge, not because we were bored” the man snapped, and Molly felt herself brought up short. She was instantly aware of something, of an indefinable presence that her visitor had. An air of authority he hadn’t shown before. Now she saw it, and almost she could believe that this man was the leader of a crack undercover team.

Then he turned it around, losing the snarl and holding up a conciliatory hand. “Look, my people are all highly trained intelligence agents and experienced law enforcement personnel. We did nothing more than what you would expect us to do if we happened across a crime while off duty. We just didn’t stick around to fill out the reports, that’s all.”

Molly shook her head, turned as if to pace, but then stopped. She said, “I can’t believe that your superiors are allowing you to get away with this. Do they even know what you’re doing?”

The man in the dark blue coat raised one gloved hand and made a rocking motion with it, signifying that the answer was both yes and no. “The people I report to are probably aware of it, but not officially. You know how it goes, if nobody hears about it and there’s no trouble, all is well. But if there IS trouble, they’re innocent and I’m the one who takes the fall. Isn’t that the way it works in your organization?”

Molly grimaced, remembering similar situations. “Sometimes. You’re playing a dangerous game; you know that, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah, we know. If our own bosses don’t crucify us, your people and the press will. Which is the main reason for this little meeting tonight.”

He uncrossed his arms and stood, reaching into the depths of his coat pocket, and pulling out a clear plastic bag. He unsealed the bag and drew out its contents, a large manila envelope, holding it carefully between his gloved fingers. He leaned forward and handed the envelope to Molly, who noticed that he kept the plastic bag and carefully folded it back into his pocket. She studied the envelope wryly.

“Just a little paranoid, aren’t we? What did you think I would do, send it to forensics?”

He grinned again. “Just taking precautions. As you pointed out, it’s our careers if this ever gets out. There are too many people who know about us already.”

“Just myself, my Lieutenant, and our Captain, as far as I know,” Molly answered, preoccupied by the envelope’s contents. Computer printed reports and surveillance photos, it looked like. What…?

“Just the three of you, right? Is that what Burke told you?”

She looked up, to find herself the object of a hard stare. She blinked, suddenly having the uncomfortable feeling that she was under a microscope.

“I…can’t guarantee that. My lieutenant only told the Captain, and I can’t vouch for who he told.”

“I can. Your Captain didn’t tell anybody. Because Burke never told him.”

A frown. “No, you’re wrong; Burke would have had to tell him. It’s policy, the Captain has to know about all investigations in his division.”

“And he does. Every morning like clockwork, your Captain comes in, logs on, and then reviews all ongoing investigations on the board. Every day. And yet he’s never once opened the files you’ve been making on me. Care to explain that, Inspector?”

Molly could only return his scrutiny with her own puzzlement. All these weeks working this investigation, and the Captain didn’t even know what she was doing? It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know, I... can’t explain it. There must be some explanation, though. I’ll ask the LT tomorrow, alright? But back to these reports. Just what are they?”

“It’s what your Narcotics and Gang units have been looking for these last three weeks. The crack lab and stash house in the Richmond. We’ve been watching it for the past couple of days, there ought to be enough evidence to get a warrant. Call it a gift. And just maybe the start of a partnership.”

She looked up from her reading, eying him, her lips slightly pursed. He waited, and this time it was her turn to fold first. “Partnership?”

“We have free access to a lot of information that the SFPD either doesn’t have, or can’t get at easily. And we can get a lot more. For instance, we found that crack lab within twelve hours, the same one that you’ve been trying to find for almost a month. We’ve got technology most police departments won’t even see for at least another ten years, plus the Patriot’s Act gives us much wider powers of discrimination as to who we can and can’t investigate.

“And we can also provide limited tactical support. We’ve outlined an operations plan in there that show what we can do to help when you take down that lab. I suggest you take it seriously. That place is a fortress, and the Trojans are about as crazy as they come. With our help you’d stand a good chance of doing it without any bloodshed.”

“And afterwards? I take it this isn’t just going to be a one time thing. What exactly is this partnership you’re talking about? And what’s it going to cost us?”

“I told you, Molly. For us this is actually nothing more than a training exercise, something to help keep my unit and I sharp when things are slow. We’ll be conducting some of our own investigations, but if you have anything you want us to look into, we’ll listen. No promises, but we’ll listen. And occasionally we might ask for your help, too, although that’ll probably be more along the lines of exchanging information.”

“It sounds like a lot to offer us on a silver platter, but I can’t help having my doubts. If I’m hearing you right, you’re offering to investigate, what, all sorts of major crime in this city, and then turn the evidence over to us? You claim the Patriot’s Act will make anything you give us admissible in court, but how do we know that? Evidence is nothing but crap if it gets thrown out on a technicality.”

He grinned at her, spreading his hands in an I-don’t-have-anything-to-hide-officer look. “All the more reason for you not to look too closely at us, isn’t it? As long as you don’t know for certain that we’re law enforcement, then you have no reason to question how we obtained all this valuable information, do you? We’re just another ‘confidential informant’, like a thousand other snitches you guys use.”

The nameless Federal Agent straightened and rose from his resting place on the hood of her car. He turned then, and started walking back the way he had come. Over his shoulder he was saying, “Talk to your Lieutenant, let’s see what he thinks about all of this. I’ll be here tomorrow night, same time, if he wants to meet.”

“Hey, wait…” Molly called, trying to gather together the file she was holding and follow him at the same time, all without dropping any of the precious report. By the time she got moving he was already turning the corner and disappearing from sight. She was barely more than five seconds behind him. But when she too turned the corner, he was gone.

*****

“So do you think he’ll go for it?” Holly Reisbach asked, watching from her seat on his bed. “Her Lieutenant, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Tom replied, as he bent over and stepped into the parachute harness. He rose, pulling it up over his body, drawing the straps over his shoulders. He buckled the main strap across his chest, then started checking the fit of the others around his waist and upper thighs. “I’m pretty sure Molly is sold on us, but we’ve got absolutely nothing on Burke to base an opinion on. We don’t even know why he hasn’t told his own boss’s about me, and from her reaction I don’t think Molly knows, either. I think we’ll just have to wait and see what happens tomorrow.”

Holly rose from his bed, her movements smooth and distracting. Like himself, she was wearing all black clothing, although he had to admit she looked a lot better in them than he did. She stepped up and began helping him to adjust the harness, which was a lot looser in some places and tighter in others than it had been several months ago, when he had first donned it in Mike’s garage. Between Holly’s killer workouts and Dieter’s training, plus all the exercise he got from his ‘hero work’, Tom was now in the best shape of his life.

“Yeah, I guess Poppa was right. It looks like this guy has his own agenda. But, since there’s nothing we can do about it tonight,” she said, grinning wickedly, “I think we should just shelve it for now and get on with having a little fun.”

Tom chuckled, and pulled her into his arms. Her hands locked behind his neck and pulled his lips onto hers, as her body seemed to melt against his like warm wax, filling in all the cracks and curves until they both fit perfectly together. As their tongues danced he let his hands roam over the soft steel muscles of her back, sliding down to her waist to rest on the slalom harness that she was wearing. Holly had found it in a store that sold wind-surfing equipment. The harness had been modified only slightly for their purposes, and looked like the bottom half of the full body parachute rig that Tom was wearing.

Tom pulled away first, gasping just a little. He felt the blood as it surged throughout his entire body, and from the flush on her face he knew Holly was feeling the same. “Mmmm, you sure you want to do this tonight? I can think of other ways to spend our time.”

She laughed as she pulled away, a deep and throaty sound that did pleasant things to his stomach. “No way, you promised we’d try this. New finish getting dressed, Blackwood, and meet me outside. We’ve got places to go.”

She dug a sharp knuckle into his ribs for emphasis before flouncing out, leaving him grinning. He got on the rest of his gear in just a few minutes, and was soon joining her out on the roof.

The outfit Tom now wore was similar to the one that Mike and Murray had tricked out for him, although of a much simpler design. Instead of the Spectra cloth cargo pants and the modified wrestler’s boots, he now had on a pair of black jeans and running shoes. He was again wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, but instead of the ballistic cloth and titanium mesh it was merely plain cotton. There was no sign of the bandoleer and its cargo of high tech gadgetry, and the eyewear was only a simple pair of ski goggles, without the mask.

Holly had donned her own pair of goggles, and a midnight blue ski jacket to go with them. She had left the jacket open, as she bent down now and flipped a switch. A ten foot square section of the roof was suddenly outlined by a string of tiny purple Christmas lights, creating a miniature landing pad on the top of the darkened roof. Tom wouldn’t require the lights when he left, but he would need them on his return, especially as he would not be using his usual instruments to land.

Without a word Tom turned his back on Holly and flexed his shoulders, pulling the fabric of the sweatshirt tight across his back. Sewn slits like four oversized buttonholes appeared, and through them the glint of metal. Holly reached out and pulled the D-rings attached to the parachute harness through the slits. She used the rings to attach two long loop straps at his shoulders, and the two shorter straps hanging from her own harness were clipped to the rings at Tom’s waist. She gave all four straps a strong tug to check the security of the connection, then punched her amazing boyfriend lightly on the back.

“Check, check, check and check. All ready, Flyboy.”

“Then please fasten your safety belts and bring all trays to their upright position, Mata Hari. Thanks you for flying the Blackwood Aerial Express. Now hang on.”

Tom lunged forward, kicking his legs back, and pivoting in mid-air. Holly giggled in delight, as she suddenly found herself riding on the small of Tom’s back as he floated three feet off the surface of the roof. She shifted her seat, slipping her hands into the shoulder straps and wrapping her legs around his waist, and then squealed softly as she realized they were moving. Not just moving, but rising into the darkened skies.

Holly shivered, but more from delight than from the cold. The San Francisco night sky was crisp and clear, and the lights of the city falling below them were as sharp and bright as diamonds. Rising above the stench of the city, she caught the clean salt scent of the bay, and somewhere off to her right she could hear the startlingly close sound of flapping wings. She felt like laughing out loud with the joy of it, and so she did, reveling in the incredible thing that they were doing. Flying.

They were actually flying!

They weren’t rising very fast, only a fraction of the speed that she knew her boyfriend was capable of, but still she found her legs tightening around his waist. When he spoke, she had to strain to hear him over the sound of her pounding heart.

“I know it’s kind of cold, but hang on a bit. There’s a thermal layer up here that’s a lot warmer. Ahhh, there, feel it?”

“Yes, you’re right. It is warmer. Wait, what happened to the wind? It stopped blowing.”

“No, it didn’t, I just stopped fighting it. Just like in a balloon, no resistance. We’re floating, letting the wind take us wherever it’s heading.”

“It’s so quiet,” she murmured in awe. “Tom, I never would have imagined that it would be so, so peaceful up here.”

“We’re lucky, it’s a calm night. I’ve been out when it got bad sometimes, and I’ve gotten tossed around like a leaf. When that happens I usually just rise above the clouds, and then head for open weather. I’ll show you what that’s like sometime. It’s a beautiful place, Holly, that area between the clouds. The most beautiful place you’ll ever see. Here, hold on.”

Beneath her Tom slowly began to come upright in a move they had practiced inside the spacious loft. Holly responded by leaning forward, letting the harness around her waist take of her weight. She slipped the straps down her arms until they settled into the crooks of her elbows, which gave her the slack to cross her arms around Tom’s chest. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him close, sighing at the beauty of the city laid out below them.

They were out for over an hour, although the time seemed to pass much quicker. Tom showed her what it was like to slip through the canyons of the high-rise financial district, and to play hide and seek in the tangle that was the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge. He introduced her to the mysterious world of the night time rooftops and their strange inhabitants, and the sharp, brightly lit contrast of China Town after dark. The people below never saw them, and wouldn’t have even if they had looked up; the dark clad pair was totally invisible barely a dozen feet above the nimbus of the city lights. They spied on the bats that hunted at night in most of the many parks that dotted the city, and flew close enough to a lone owl that she could see the gleam of moonlight off its curled talons. It was a whirlwind tour, full of the magic and mysteries of Tom’s new existence, and she was acutely aware that she was the first person to ever be invited into his world.

It was almost inevitable, then, that she would do something foolish to end it.

They were slipping smoothly through the sky a thousand feet over the bay, having just come back from a tour of Alcatraz Island. Tom was bucking a light headwind but not pushing it too hard. As he had explained to Holly before they started, there was only about seventy pounds difference in their weights, which meant that after countering for her mass he only had about a third of his normal lifting power. Holly understood, but she still could not help wanting to go faster, to push the limits that she didn’t really understand. Tom had just told her that they were about a thousand feet above the waters of the bay, when he felt her shift her weight on his back. Over the light rush of wind, he clearly heard the sound of the harness clips being unsnapped.

“What…? Hey, what’re you doing?” he cried, as he felt her swing her legs up and come to her knees on his back. He felt a blade of panic knife through his gut, as he realized that Holly was no longer tethered to him, and that the slightest slip or wobble and she would go plummeting to her death.

“Relax, I’m just going to try something,” she shouted, and with a shock he felt her do a little hop that brought her feet underneath her. In another few moments the pressure from her hands on his shoulders disappeared, and to his horror he realized that she was now standing upright on his back, riding him like a human surfboard, a thousand feet above the waves.

“Holly…” he began, trying not to startle her, trying to keep the heart-stopping panic out of his voice. “Holly, please, you need to sit back down. Right now. Holly, this is crazy. It’s way too dangerous.” As he was talking Tom kept his body as rigid and unmoving as he could, all the while letting gravity once again pull him downwards, sinking just as rapidly as he dared.

“Stop worrying so much, Tommy, you sound just like my Dad. Look, you know what I do on weekends, I’m one of the best street thrashers in San Francisco, and you’re a hell of a lot bigger than my long board. Relax, it’s going to be fine.”

Street thrasher? Tom swore through gritted teeth, feeling a burst of anger fueled by his fear. She’s comparing me to a fucking skateboard?!

Tom kept arguing with Molly, pleading with her, sometimes threatening, while at the same time dropping steadily lower to the bay below. It was difficult to tell their exact height without the altimeter built into the rest of his equipment back at the loft, but months of experience allowed him to make a pretty good estimate. They were still over six hundred feet up when the tall blonde girl got angry.

“Look, I am sick and tired of everybody telling me that the things I like to do are too dangerous. Poppa, my grandma, Uncle Pablo, and now you. Dammit, I’m not stupid, Tom, I know the risks. But this is my life, and it’s my right to live it as I choose! I never asked any of you to be my guardian angels, and to look over me like a bunch of old lady mother hens. Poppa with the GSG-9, Pablo with his explosives, and you with your ‘hero work’. Who the hell are you to tell me what’s too dangerous!”

She kept up in that vein for several minutes more, while Tom bit his tongue and kept dropping. At three hundred feet he spotted his target off to the left, and began angling towards it.

“Hey! Dammit, Tom Blackwood, are you even listening to me?” Holly said, as he felt her weight shift as she leaned forward.

“Yeah, I’m listening to you. You’re screaming in my ear like a spoiled little brat, I can’t help but hear. And since you don’t seem to appreciate me and my company any more, why the hell don’t you just get out and walk!”

Suddenly Tom twisted, spinning, and with a squawk Holly found herself plummeting through empty space, and into he frigid waters of the bay ten feet below.

Tom watched dispassionately as Molly struggled to the surface, listened to her sputtering in shock and outrage. When he judged the moment was right, he swooped down and grabbed her with one hand hooked in her collar. With increasing speed he dragged her, struggling, fifty feet through the choppy waves to the side of the channel marker buoy. Still pulling on her collar, he provided the lift to help her scramble onto the buoy and then to her feet. When she was finally upright, spitting salt water and trying to swear, he shoved her hard against the corroded metal tower of the channel marker light. He was in no mood for any more nonsense.

“Not a word, not one more word! You will clip yourself to my harness, you will climb on my back, and you will keep quiet all the way back to the loft. And if you don’t do exactly as I say, then I will leave you here for the Coast Guard to find, ¬in the morning!”

Tom spun around, presenting his back to Holly, too furious to even look at her. He waited, saying nothing, until he felt her lean against him. With jerky movements she attached the clips on her harness to the D-rings on his own, gave them a hard tug to check the connection, then slipped her hands into the shoulder straps. When he felt her tug on the straps and start to put her weight on them, he pivoted under her and took off, making her scramble to find her seat on his back. When he was sure she was firmly on he rose swiftly, gaining altitude and heading in a straight line back towards the loft.

There was no hesitation now, no gentle and careful ride this time. Instead Tom pushed his power as hard as he could, ignoring the wind and the shivering wet passenger he carried. By the time he settled into the purple lit square on the roof of the warehouse, Holly was shaking so badly that she couldn’t undue the harness clips that bound them together. Tom had to reach under his sweatshirt and unfasten his own harness, letting it and her fall to the rooftop with a thud.

As he had expected Holly threw a punch at his head as soon as she was out of the rig, but the blow was slow and awkward. He easily avoided it, and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck as she stumbled by. Using that grip he forced her to come, frog marching her into the loft, down the hall way and into the master bathroom. As he pulled the wet ski jacket from her he noticed clinically how her teeth were chattering, and that her skin had taken on a decided blue tinge. He stripped the rest of her clothes off of her, until she was down to just bra and panties, then turned away and opened the shower door. He turned on the shower, waited until the water ran warm but not hot, and then picked the shivering girl up and placed her under the spray. Holly gasped at the shock, but almost immediately the shaking of her body began to ease.

Tom turned away and picked up Holly’s sopping clothes, wrapping them in a towel so that they wouldn’t drip on the floor. When he turned back around he saw Holly glaring at him from the shower. The look he returned it with was as cold as the waters of the bay.

“When you’re done, go to my room and put on some of my clothes. As soon as yours are dry, you’ll put them on and then you’ll leave. And you won’t come back. You’re out of the committee, Holly.”

He turned around and strode out of the bathroom, feeling her shocked stare on the back of his neck long after he was out of her sight.