The Tree of Life

The Tree of Life: Book 1

2005-10-25T21:46:00.000-07:00

Book 1 of The Tree of Life starts here and stands ready for your enjoyment.

If you've already read the whole thing, I thank you. Any comments or question would be appreciated.

I'll be taking a break from posting here in the hopes that I get some input from the "masses" (all two of you) that I can apply to the next two books (or, if sufficiently compelling, Book 1).

In the meantime, so as to not leave you too wanting, I'll give you a bit of a preview of "things to come".

If you've not yet read Book 1, STOP HERE.

Did you stop?

Okay ... I warned you.

---------------------- Spoiler Alert --------------------

In Book 2, six years have passed and things have settled down for Catherine and Jessica. Jessica, however, is making some startling discoveries about herself and her connection to the world around her. Things are no less interesting for the Danann family, especially for Richard, now a young man. However, as they both separately explore what they can do on their own, they may, together, destroy what has taken centuries to build.

Book I: The Others - Chapter 11 - Time to Leave (Part 4)

2005-10-17T20:27:00.000-07:00

Catherine saw that Jesse was tiring as Zannicus gained ground, forcing Jesse to step back, her legs shaking with the strain. Jesse was about to collapse.

“CATHERINE, GET DOWN!”

Knowing the voice, she complied immediately just as the shot rang out.

She quickly turned toward Zannicus and saw ... nothing but a bloody smear on the railing.

Relief washed over her with such intensity that she thought she’d drown in it. Then she rolled over and saw her daughter sitting on the desk like a doll with her eyes closed.

“Baby? Are you all right? Talk to me honey?”

Jesse’s eyes opened slowly and looked directly at her mother. They seemed far older than any ten-year-old’s eyes had a right to be. Catherine shuddered.

Quietly, with almost no energy she spoke, “Swing your legs around.”

Catherine understood and doing so, watched as Jesse peeled off the tape that bound her legs. Then using a trick that her late husband taught her, she curled her back and backed through the loop her arms made. After much twisting and grunting, she finally stood with her handcuffed hands in front of her.

Catherine looked down and saw that Jesse had closed her eyes again and actually seemed to be sleeping.

“That’s ...” The voice was so quiet she could hardly hear it.

“Mac!”

She ran to where he sat leaning against the edge of the doorway that led to the galley. He held her gun in his right hand seemingly forgotten in his lap. But all she noticed was the blood on his chest and neck and face and finally the side of his head ... where the dent was.

“Oh Mac.” She couldn’t keep the emotion from her voice as she gently cupped his face in her hands.

“That’s quite a girl you have there. You must ...” He struggled as he took a breath.

“Mac, don’t talk. You’ll sap what little energy you have.”

Mac shook his head. He had to get this out. “You must encourage her to use her gift. She must be strong if she’s going to survive.” Mac squeezed his eyes closed from the effort of breathing.

She wasn’t ready to process his request right now so she put it in one of those little boxes in her head for later.

She was no doctor, but she knew enough to understand that it was too late for him. It was a miracle that he’d been able to make it this far. See looked up and saw the crimson trail on the carpet where he’d dragged himself from the stateroom, through the galley, to her purse in the corner, and finally to the doorway. Her tears began to flow freely as he groggily opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Don’t cry,” he slurred. “I’ll be okay. I’m just tired that’s all.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll think I’ll sleep a little.”

Catherine could hardly stand it. She took his left hand kissed it. She held it to her tear stained cheek as he drifted into unconsciousness for what she was sure would be the last time.

As she gently released his hand into his lap, a glint from his neck caught her attention. She reached over and pulled a chain from under his shirt that she’d never seen before. But the pendant was familiar ... shockingly so. She reached down her own shirt and withdrew her own necklace. The two silver pendants were mirror images of each other; both halves of tiny tree.

Curiosity overtook her as she awkwardly removed her own necklace and held her pendant together with his, forming a whole tree. There was an audible click, and as she watched, the pendant glowed slightly and warmed as the seam disappeared. It was now one piece with two chains.

A quiet whimper from behind her alerted her to the danger a spit second before it was too late. Dropping the necklace, she grabbed the pistol and jumped forward through the doorway just as projectiles from Zannicus’ weapon blew a hole in the deck where she’d been crouched, almost taking another piece of flesh out of Mac’s battered body. As she came out of her twisting roll, she faced her attacker and fired her weapon with all the skill and training she could muster.

The first shot glanced off of Zannicus’ weapon, taking it and a finger with it. The second punched into his chest with enough force to drive him back to the edge of the deck and though the gangway opening.

Teetering on the edge, he looked at his missing digit in disbelief. As he over balanced and fell backward Catherine heard him speak with a loathing that only hinted at the darkness within him. “I should have made sure you were dead the first time, bitch.” Then there was a splash.

She cautiously went over to the opening and peered over the edge leading with her weapon. She saw where Zannicus had hung on to the ladder attached to the side of the boat the first time he’d gone over. She could also see where he’d bled on the ladder’s steps as he worked his way back up the rungs.

A sudden splash in the water several yards out from the boat caught her attention. All she saw was the tatters of a black coat, blood tinged water, and frenzied sharks circling the whole chum filled mess.

She hit the railing panel with her left hand hardly feeling any pain, and the gangway door slowly slid shut.

She looked at the swirling activity. “Actually, I am dead you evil bastard.”

She turned on her heel and checked on Jesse. She was fast asleep.

She moved to check Mac but hesitated. She knew already.

Catherine made her way to the bridge and after looking at the controls for a couple minutes, started the engine and drove the boat towards Monterey Bay and the closest dock.

In the hour before reaching her destination, she’d formulated a plan. Mac was, surprisingly, still hanging on by a thread, and by the time she pulled up to the dock, she could hear the ambulance that she’d call on her cell phone.

But before it arrived, she’d gathered all their things and with a semi-conscious daughter in tow, left the boat ... and disappeared.

Moments later the paramedics found Mac on the blood soaked deck of the boat, unconscious and barely breathing, clutching a small silver tree with two chains attached.

End Book1: The Others

Book I: The Others - Chapter 11 - Time to Leave (Part 3)

2005-10-09T16:22:00.000-07:00

Zannicus approached her from just out of view. She sensed him as he knelt beside her and wasn’t surprised when he grabbed her right wrist and expertly twisted it behind her back. Even though she was ready for it, she very nearly screamed out as he wrenched the other arm around and within seconds had her hands securely fastened behind her back with a pair of handcuffs. The fire ants were working hard now. Pain induced tears ran down her nose as he quickly moved to her feet and bound them tightly with several layers of duct tape that he pulled from a pocket.

He turned her over then and tearing a piece of tape from the roll, covered her mouth. As he put the tape away, he commented absently, “I just can’t get over how useful this stuff is.” Then, looking back at Catherine, he chuckled, “You’re free to talk all you want now.” Then he really laughed at his joke for a few seconds.

As Zannicus recovered his composure and walked to the other side of the deck outside of her view, Catherine glanced sideways at Jesse. She was lying on her side. Her breathing was normal, but ... tense. Then she saw it. Jesse was discreetly peeking through the hair that partially covered her face. She looked calm. There was none of the fear that she’d shown before. Something had changed.

As their eyes met, Catherine got a strong impression of ... something, a connection she needed to make. She could see the grimace of deep concentration and focus on Jesse’s face. It was the same face that Catherine showed at the shooting range. Could Jesse be trying to ... communicate? With little to lose, Catherine slowed her breath and as quickly as she could, attained her “shooting calm”. She formed a tunnel directly at Jesse trusting that her intuition was correct.

She was breaking out in a sweat with the effort as she sensed a mental click and in that instant was bombarded with her daughter’s scream inside her head.

“DISTRACT HIM.”

Her mind flared with the power of the message. She nearly cried out but stifled it in time. But as a purely defensive gesture tore her concentration away from Jesse ... and for a split second trained it on Zannicus who had walked in front of her carrying a bucket.

She sensed the connection like before, but this time instead of the pulse of pure energy and light she’d felt with Jesse, here there was only darkness, thick and malignant and sticky and putrid, and as it ever so slightly grazed her mind, she screamed. The tape over her mouth might have muffled the sound of her terror, but Zannicus knew something had happened.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Zannicus yelled. He stepped toward her, violently breaking the connection. “Did you think you’d accomplish something with that little trick? I’ve got more power in my little finger than you could ever hope to muster,” he said as he hoisted her to her feet.

She looked into the bucket and saw a thick mess of blood and guts from their morning fish cleaning. That, combined with the lingering revulsion that she still felt from touching Zannicus’ mind, was too much for her. She felt the gorge rising and didn’t bother to resist. Blowing past the tape over her mouth, she threw up on Zannicus’ shirt, coat, pants and precious shoes as he swung her around to face him.

For a few heartbeats nothing happened. Zannicus just stood there dripping in disbelief. Then his face reddened, and gritting his teeth, he hissed, “That’s it, I’m through with you.” He threw the bucket of fish guts over the side and then turned to grab her with both hands.

She knew now what was in store for her. She’d read stories of several recent shark sightings in the area, and now it seemed that she would be their next meal. She could already see some of the telltale fins breaking the surface angling in on the spreading mass of chum.

He touched a recessed panel in the railing and the gangway door silently slid open.

As he reached for her for the last time, Catherine sensed waves of power coming from behind her. She turned and saw her daughter standing up facing them. She was so pale and still, she could have been carved from stone. Her mouth was wide open as if she was screaming but no sound came out. At the same time she heard Zannicus grunt behind her.

She turned to see his lips peeled back and his eyes water like he was facing down a hurricane. “Oh. No. You. Don’t.” was all he said as he began to resist.

Richie was having lunch with his dad in the big conference room. Although this wasn’t the first time, it still was a treat to be able to sit and talk to his dad in the middle of the day.

They’d just finished talking about a history assignment that Richie was working on when he heard the scream. He gripped the side of the chair to keep from falling off. It was loud, but the terror he felt took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes.

Bob Danann saw the change quickly. “Richie what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to fend off the panic that was coming off of the boy in waves.

Not having enough breath, Richie could hardly speak. “Je .. Je ... Jesse’s ... in ... trouble. Screaming. Mac’s ... dead.” Pulling in a great gasp of air made him cough. He could smell the ocean. Then he got a flash of an image. Zannicus slowly walked towards him like he was battling a hard wind, his eyes watering and his mouth pulled back in pain baring his clenched white teeth.

Richie was barely able to get the word “Zannicus” out before he passed out.

Chapt. 11 - Time to Leave (Part 4)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 11 - Time to Leave (Part 2)

2005-10-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

A split second later what she saw turned that chill into a calm, icy rage the likes of which she'd never felt before. There were three things in rapid succession that her eyes took in. First was her daughter, which he held tightly by the throat in front of him. Then his weapon, which was the same one she’d glimpsed as she lay dying in that alley. And last, his shoes ... polished wingtips, with the stitching of a toe panel recently repaired.

“What do ...” she began, but as the words came out of her mouth, Zannicus interrupted.

“You will not speak.” To bring his point home, he squeezed Jesse’s throat choking her. “If you disobey, the girl dies. If you do not do what you’re told quickly and completely, the girl dies. If you do anything that makes me even remotely uncomfortable, the girl dies. Do you understand?”

Catherine began to answer but quickly closed her mouth and nodded instead.

“Very good.

“Now, I want you to place both hands on top of the table and slowly slide out from behind it.”

Catherine complied. As she slid to the left up against her purse, she could feel the weight of it and the pistol it contained. Her eyes never left her daughter's. She could see that Jesse was very afraid but wouldn’t do anything to force Zannicus’ hand.

As she continued sliding, her mind raced trying to think of some way to save their lives. If only she could get to the gun.

She reached the end of the bench.

“Stop. Now take your purse by the straps and toss it into the corner there.” Zannicus gestured across the room with his weapon.

Catherine was out of time. Without her gun she would be helpless. She must act now.

Her body tensed just a fraction of a second before she would reach into her purse, grab the 9mm, jump away from the table, roll away from Zannicus’ line of fire, recover from the roll, bring the weapon to bear on the man, and fire at his head. But before she even started to move, she heard a choked exclamation from Jesse, immediately followed by a powerful blow to her left arm and shoulder. Her body was thrown violently against the windows behind where she sat cracking one of them. She slid back to the seat in a semi-daze.

“And that was just the stun setting” he said. “Okay, maybe it was a little more than that.” He was smiling.

Catherine looked at her now numb left arm, half expecting it to be gone. It wasn’t, but it was now beginning to bleed where the projectiles had ripped her sleeve and flayed bits of her skin.
“Now, let’s try this again, but this time do it quickly and without thinking about it.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Oh yes, I’ve also dialed up the weapon a bit. Next time will be the last.” He absently but gently caressed Jesse’s cheek with the barrel of the smoking weapon causing her to whimper quietly.

Catherine, feeling totally defeated, eased back toward the purse, grabbed it with her right hand and threw it as directed.

“Very good. Now place your useful hand behind your head.”

She did so. Her other arm, still hanging at her side was starting to tingle, but she still couldn’t move it.

“Now slowly swing your legs out from under the table and exit on your knees.”

She complied, sucking in a tight breath when she jarred her left arm. The pain was excruciating.

Noticing her wince Zannicus smiled, “Yeah ... the pain's only just begun. It’ll build and build. It’ll feel like a thousand fire ant sting you on the inside while a thousand more sting you on the outside. In about 10 minutes you’ll likely ask me to cut it off completely to spare you the agony ... I’ll decline of course.

“Now ... walk on your knees out the door to the deck and try not to drip blood on the carpet, I don’t want to have to clean it up later.”

He followed her awkward “walk” out onto the aft deck of the yacht. “Okay. Now lie on your stomach keeping your hands where they are.”

Catherine flopped down on the deck. With her head turned to her right, she could see those wingtips as they came into view and stopped near the railing.

Catherine could just hear his voice over the wind.

“Now to deal with you, young Jessica.”

Catherine suddenly felt waves of dizziness nearly drive her into unconsciousness. As soon as they stopped, Jessie’s body collapsed on the deck in front of Zannicus.

She nearly screamed out, heedlessly ignoring his warning, until she saw Jessie’s shallow breathing. Relieved, she slowly let out the breath that would have become a scream.

“I admire your restraint. But I must admit I’m surprised. Up until now you’ve been very smart about keeping a low profile, and not venturing out in public. But as is usually the case with your kind, you got over confident.”

He shook his head in seeming disbelief as he spoke. “You were free. All you had to do was get on a plane, and I’d have never found you ... Well, maybe not never, but you certainly would have extended the chase by weeks ... or even months if you were really good ...”

He glanced briefly at the shore and the glints of breaking wave as they relentlessly pounded the cliffs slowly tearing them down one pebble at a time. He respected that kind of patience ... it was almost like torture. Looking back at Catherine, he continued. “... but you chose this idiotic little pleasure cruise in the middle of the ocean. Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here? Anything could happen.”

Looking down at the unconscious form at his feet, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Your daughter is unharmed. Let’s just say that I put her to sleep for the time being while I ... take care of you.”

Chapt. 11 - Time to Leave (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 11 - Time to Leave (Part 1)

2005-10-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

The sea breeze blowing through her hair was liberating. If she closed her eyes for just a moment she could almost forget all that had happened. Almost.

As they raced under the Golden Gate Bridge, she knew that this was her last chance at normalcy before her own race began.

The arrangements had all been made. Their new identities were complete, actually five different sets. Of course, she would use them only until she could make her own arrangements. At that point, she and her daughter would disappear. The money that they would live on was tucked away safely in an offshore account that she’d set up herself. Everything was in place.

But all that didn’t matter right now. Right now she was alone on a small yacht with only Jesse and Mac for company. She felt safe for the first time in weeks.

Turning around, she looked up towards the flybridge and smiled. Jesse was having the time of her life “driving” the boat under Mac’s watchful eye.

Catherine walked back toward the stern and started the circuitous route to join them. She wound her way through the living quarters into the bridge, up a ladder, and finally onto the high, outdoor platform from where Jesse and Mac drove the powerboat.

They hadn’t noticed her yet so she took the opportunity to just observe them for a few moments. Jesse was very happy ... happier certainly than she’d been since before Conner died ... the first time. And Mac ... He was all at once kind and strong, yet mysterious and dark. She was drawn to him, there was no doubt about that, but there was something else, something deeper. It had been bothering her for weeks, tickling her mind. But try as she might, she still couldn’t isolate the feelings. Although, instinctively she knew it wasn’t a bad thing, it was another in a long list of unanswered questions that she was beginning to think might just remain that way.

But now she was hungry and would ask these two what they wanted for lunch.

“I’ll have ham and cheese sandwich and a soda please,” yelled Jesse above the wind.

“Me too, please” said Mac. “And some potato chips.”

“Oh! I want chips too. Please.”

Neither of them had turned toward her, but somehow they’d both known she was there and was about to ask about lunch.

“Ah, okay.” Catherine was a little off balance. “But how ...”

“We saw you look at your watch before you left the bow,” came Mac’s reply. “And I can see you’re reflection in the dials here.” He pointed at the pilot’s console. Sure enough Catherine saw both their face smiling at her through the various dials. She chuckled at the suspicions that she’d briefly entertained, then, shaking her head, climbed back down to the bridge and made her way toward the galley.

She had just completed the lunch preparations when she heard the engine noise decrease and finally stop. She glanced out of the port window and saw that they were well down the coastline south of the Bay’s outlet. She could just see sunlight glinting off of cars as they sped along the coast highway.

She heard Jesse’s excited jabber as she and Mac exited the pilothouse and entered the living area . As they stepped into the galley, Jesse was still talking a-mile-a-minute and Mac seemed happy to listen helplessly.

“Why don’t you two seafarers go wash up while I put this grub on the table.”

Without a word they changed direction and headed toward the sleeping quarters and the bathroom ... no ... the “head”, Catherine reminded herself. She smiled at the memory of Mac’s quick lessons in nautical jargon.

She cleaned most of the clutter off the table setting her purse on the bench seat. She put the plates on the table and went back for the drinks. Not standing on ceremony, she sat on the bench, slid behind the dining table and began nibbling on her own chips waiting for their return.

In mid crunch, she thought she heard a loud thump from the back bedroom. As she looked toward the door, there was a quiet squeal that was definitely her daughter and definitely not a happy noise.

She called out, “Jesse ... Mac ... Is everything okay?” as she slid out from behind the table. But before she could fully extricate herself, there was a loud crash as the door from the staterooms slammed open.

The deep voice was menacing and coldly familiar. “Don’t move.”

As the man entered, his dead eyes and sallow skin chilled her. If it was possible, in the daylight, out of the conference room and its fluorescent lights where she’d last seen him so many weeks before, Emmanual Zannicus looked even paler.

Chapt. 11 - Time to Leave (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 10 - Options (Part 3)

2005-09-28T22:06:00.000-07:00

Mac and Catherine spent much of the next three weeks going over both options to the smallest detail. When they weren’t examining the possible avenues that Catherine could pursue at the company, they were scouting dozens of locations around the world where she and Jesse might relocate. When they weren’t working, they talked ... about anything and everything. Catherine would talk about her life with Conner and the many adventures that they’d had over the years, and the more she talked the better she felt. To fill up the spaces in between Mac would regale her, and sometimes Jesse, with wild stories of great heroes guiding historical events with guile and magic.

Also, while they worked Catherine noticed that Jesse was spending more and more time in the rooftop garden. She also noticed that the Danann boy was around more than usual as well. The boy was strange, but friendly. He had a magnetism that Catherine couldn’t quite explain. It was similar to his father’s, but closer to Mac’s. And Jesse certainly seemed happier when he was around. As a matter of fact, Catherine herself, as much as she hated to admit it, felt more comfortable when Mac was lingering nearby.

That’s why, as she sat in the Closet Room, watching him leave the room with the shoebox, she knew it was past time to act.

“Mac.” She called out softly.

He stopped and turned, and seeing her face shift again to a look that he’d seen many times before, came back into the room and sat in the chair next to hers. She’d made her decision.

“Mac, I appreciate everything that you’ve done for Jesse and I. Really I do.” She paused, seeing his face start to fall.

“But ...” said Mac prompting her to continue, trying to shorten the pain ... like pulling off a bandage fast.

“But I think it’s best if we leave.” Now that she’d opened the floodgates, everything that she’d been pondering over the last days and weeks came pouring out. She was trying to convince him, but at the same time herself, that she had made the right choice.

“Mac, you’re no closer to finding the killer than you were a month ago, and I think that the safest course of action for Jesse and myself is to disappear. Just fade away into obscurity in some remote part of the world ...”

Mac interrupted, trying to refute her reasoning, “But you're safe here, there are only three people who even have access to this floor, let alone the security measures for the rest of the building.”

“Yes, Mac, you're right, but what if I want to go outside or take Jesse to the beach or to school or to a play. Mac, you can’t be there to protect us all of the time, and we can’t remain captives of our own fear. As long as we stay here, we are as much a prisoner as Conner was, and that’s no life for a ten year old little girl ... or her mother.”

Mac only nodded with his eyes lowered. He knew she was right, but he didn’t have to like it.
“Take me with you. I can protect you.” His eyes pleaded with her to accept.

Which she almost did, but her resolve hardened even more. “No Mac. Your place is here, working against Blackman and his plans.”

Catherine paused for a deep breath and then went in for the final blow. “Besides, we’ll be safer without you. The Others know who you are, and you do tend to stand out in a crowd. Your presence would only draw attention to us, which is exactly what we don’t need.” She could see the utter disappointment and despair in his face, but she couldn’t break down, she couldn’t reveal to him her own feelings or her own resolve would crumble.

Although Mac was disappointed, he couldn’t fault her logic. She probably was safer in some remote part of the world. Unfortunately, logic had never been his strong suit. His feelings ... his heart ... usually won out in the end.

He looked into her eyes, and knowing the futility of any argument, stood up, still holding the shoebox.

“I will begin making the arrangements. Let’s hammer out the details tomorrow. If everything goes well, you should be settled into your new home inside of a week.”

He held up the shoebox and said, “If you remember anything else about this ...”

He left the sentence hanging and Catherine obliged him with a smile, “... I’ll let you know immediately.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, and turning to leave, said, “I’ll leave you to your packing. Give me a call tomorrow when you’re ready to get started.” He left the room without a backward glance.

Catherine stood motionless until she heard the front door close. She collapsed in the chair suddenly feeling physically and emotionally drained. She just sat there watching the sun go down over the city skyline and continued sitting until it was dark, planning her next moves. The only way she would survive was to lock these new feelings in a little box in the back of her mind, adding it to an ever-growing pile of other little boxes. When things calmed down, she would deal with them one by one, but not until then.

She called out “lights”, and as they slowly brightened, she began packing.

Chapt. 11 - Time to Leave (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 10 - Options (Part 2)

2005-09-26T20:24:00.000-07:00

Bob Danann had been backlit by the window having just moved the game board out of the way.

“I’m here to discuss your options,” he had said. While he spoke, Catherine could only see his silhouette. Something tickled her memory but she couldn’t quite get a handle on it before it flittered away.

By the way he said it, with such finality, she knew he wasn’t going to be especially gentle. Thinking about it, she thought she’d prefer whatever news he had to be coming from Mac. Why would that be? She didn’t have time to answer her own question before Bob began his “discussion”.

He walked forward and sat down on the chair to the right of the bed. As he sat she noticed a manila envelope in his hand. “Catherine, here’s the situation,” he began. “As you know, officially you were killed in a botched mugging. Under the circumstances, we felt that that was the safest action for you and Jesse considering the situation.”

He paused, expecting some reaction from her. Not getting any, he continued.

“Our investigation shows that you and Conner were attacked with a very special weapon.

Although it looks and acts like a conventional handgun, the projectile inflicts massive targeted and collateral damage but leaves no obvious trace. Your husband was the target, and you were the collateral.”

From the envelope he pulled a stack of papers. He handed the photo on top to Catherine and set the rest on the Monopoly board.

“This weapon is only used by Blackman’s organization. It takes special and reportedly, very painful training to master its ... idiosyncrasies.” She could hear the revulsion in his voice. As he talked, Catherine looked at the photo.

In the photo was what looked like a standard semi-automatic handgun, and next to it, a round ball with some wires hanging out of it. They were sitting on a table with a piece of paper with the letter ‘A’ written on it. She recognized this as an exhibit for a court case. As she looked closer, she saw subtle difference from a regular gun ... it seemed organic, smoother. She didn’t know why, but looking at it made her a little queasy. She looked closer at the ball but couldn’t make out the markings.

Bob continued. “After months of various surgeries and mind conditioning, each weapon is physically and psychically grafted to its owner. The owner’s eye is replaced by an implant that provides targeting assistance and also administers a counter agent for the poison that is released from the grip of the weapon when it is held. This antidote prevents death, but the intense pain of the poison remains. It is powered by and its ammunition is a physical manifestation of this pain and the hate that goes with it. If a stranger attempts the use the weapon, he will be killed by it.”

She looked back at the photo and saw that the ball was in fact a prosthetic eye. She was definitely feeling sick now.

“Judging by your recollection of the attack, Conner was killed as his memory block was failing.

This suggests that someone was expecting this to happen. Since up until that time, he was a trusted courier for Blackman’s organization, and we assume that what facilitated his breakthrough was your intervention, we can only assume that it was you who was followed and not Conner.

“As we see it, you have ...”

“Why?” She interrupted his train of thought, causing it to stumble bit.

“... two ... Uh, pardon me?”

“Why?” She was trying to approach the problem logically. “Why would anybody be following me? You had already determined that Conner’s block was unbreakable.” She felt the bitterness and anger build as she thought about the events leading up to the attack and everything that she’d been through since.

“According to your report, a confrontation should have done nothing.” Her mind raced with images of a young Conner teaching her to shoot, Conner swinging baby Jesse in circle under a tree, Conner as he left her for that last time to start his undercover assignment, and finally his last words before it all went black ... “I love you so much.” Then, like watching a movie in reverse, everything backtracked to the moment she’d opened the letter that started it all. As much she tried to control it, her anger welled up in a flash and burned away everything, leaving only rage.

She lunged forward and grabbed Bob’s arm pulling him out of his chair. She pulled him towards her forcing him to look her in the eyes.

Through clenched teeth, she said, “This is all your fault! You brought us here. You said we’d be safe ... and now I’m ... DEAD! You son-of-a-bitch!”

Bob could feel the rage radiate outward like a shockwave. It singed his mind before he could protect himself. He was shocked by the power of it, but recovered quickly.

For Catherine everything slowed down. She looked into his eyes and saw only calm. Looking down she saw his arm where she held it. She could feel his blood pumping ... slow, regular. She saw her knuckles turn white with the strain and his flesh turn red around her grip. Then she saw the smallest trickle of blood flow from where her fingernails punctured his skin. With a start, she released him.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” Her anger faded as quickly as it had come. She looked back at his face and saw only calmness and serenity.

“It’s alright,” he said as he withdrew a little, rubbing the circulation back into his arm and reached for a tissue to dab at his wounds. “Just lie back and calm down.” He sat down as well.

Bob spoke again in even, soothing tones. “Catherine, everything you said is one hundred percent correct. We had no right to interfere in your life. However inadequate it is, we ... “ He paused, breaking eye contact with her. With a sigh he continued, “No ... I apologize. I take full responsibility. But since I can’t change what’s happened, I’ve put all of the resources at my disposal toward finding out what happened and making sure that you and Jesse are well taken care of.”

Not yet completely calm, Catherine spoke with a tense voice, “You still haven’t answered my question ... Why was I followed?”

“Well, Catherine, we just don’t know. By all accounts you should have been talking to a stranger when you confronted Conner. Emmanuel and Mac are looking into it. I should have their results in a few days.” He paused. Looking at her, he could see her tension decrease even more, especially after he mentioned Mac’s name. He filed that away for later.

“So ... my options?”

He settled back into the chair, silhouetted against the windows. Catherine again felt a tickle of memory, but she ignored it as Bob continued.

“Your options ... As we see it you have a couple options available to you. The first alternative would have you and Jessica remain here and work with us in our struggle against Blackman and his organization. We would, of course, provide you with whatever you’d require and all of our resources would be at your disposal. There are other benefits as well, but I can not discuss them with you unless you agree to stay.”

He paused trying to gauge her reaction, but as usual she made no indication as to her feelings, one way or the other.

She spoke up. “And the second alternative?”

“The second option ...” This clearly wasn’t his favorite. “We will provide you with a new identity and a sum of money deposited in an off-shore account that should allow you to live comfortably anywhere in the world for the rest of your lives. If it is your wish, we will provide for you the means to effectively disappear from Blackman’s prying eyes ... and our own.”

He stopped talking and just looked at Catherine for a few heartbeats, letting what he just said sink in. As he stood, he said, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

He was about to leave the room when she spoke up. “I’ll need more information before I can make a decision.”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Mac will answer what questions he can.” With a final look, he turned again and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Chapt. 10 - Options (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 10 - Options (Part 1) (vers. 2)

2005-09-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

Her suitcases were nearly packed, but there was still some skirts, shoes, and other personal items scattered on the floor and on the small table in what she’d come to call the Closet Room. A wooden cane leaned against the table and one of the chairs. It seemed to glow slightly in the darkening room.

She sat at the table lost in thought ignoring the perfectly framed view. The early evening sun reflected off of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance with a few wisps of fog gently nudging the tops of its orange towers. Instead, she stared intently at a single shoe sitting on the table next to a dusty box that held its mate. It was a black wingtip.

“Must be a very special shoe to illicit such intense study...”

Catherine startled, squealed a little. She jumped to her feet, grabbed the shoe in her hand as if to use it as a weapon, and turned around to face the intruder.

Mac stood in the doorway leaning on the door jam apparently at ease. For a split second he tensed slightly ready to defend himself if the need arose.

“Mac!” She let out a pent up breath. “You scared the hell out of me! I thought ...” Without finishing the sentence, she sank back into the chair as the brief burst of adrenaline-fueled energy drained out of her.

Mac could see where the recently healed wound on the left side of her head reddened with her exertion as the rest of her face went pale. He actually saw the transition in her face as it became wan and waxy before his eyes. He looked at her more closely. Even though she was weak now, he could see that she was healing nicely ... in both body and mind.

“What did you think?” Mac sat down on the chair across from her.

“What?”

“You looked like you were ready to lay me out with that shoe.”

She was slowly calming down, most of the color had returned to her face.

“I thought that you’d come to kill me.”

Mac sat there and just looked at her for a few moments not knowing exactly how to respond.
Catherine, seeing his reaction, continued, “Not you specifically, but someone else.” She held the shoe up in front of her. “Someone who wears shoes like this.”

She’d found the shoebox high on one of the shelves. Ever the curious one, she climbed up on one of the chairs and retrieved it. As she opened the box and pulled out one of the shoes, details that she hadn’t remembered from that night rushed out of the darkness and forced her to sit down, stunned. She had been in the middle of that daze when Mac walked in.

She told Mac of her new memories. How Conner recognized her at the end ... how he had responded to her mention of their daughter. Then she told him about the shoes.

“He wore shoes like these, except the toe panel’s stitching was coming off.”

“Well,” he said in a soft comforting voice, ”they weren’t these shoes.”

He gently took the shoe she held and placed it back in the box and closed the lid.

“As you can see, they’re in fine condition ... just the way I left them when I used to live here.”

“These are yours?” she said, off balance.

“Indeed they are.” His eyes sparkled in that special way that made her fell like everything was going to be okay. “And I thank you for finding them for me.”

He took the box and departed leaving her to her thoughts.

Catherine knew how short on clues they were. Bob had made that clear during their discussions. All they really knew was that William Blackman and his followers, The Others, were behind Conner’s and her own assassinations, and that she had to make a decision ... a decision that would change the lives of her and her daughter.

Chapt. 10 - Options (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 9 - Stirrings

2005-09-22T20:23:00.000-07:00

In the garden on top of the Danann Building Jesse was flitting about touching all the plants, enjoying their purity and imparting a bit of her own if it was necessary, and Richie, Mr. Danann’s son, was, as usual, doing some sort of silly homework.

Richie was very smart. One time, she’d asked him what he was doing, but the explanation was too complicated to remember. But for all that, he wasn’t mean or stuck-up like other kids she’d known back home. As a matter of fact, she liked him ... quite a lot actually ... which was a bit silly considering he was a boy and everything.

She was administering to a particularly sick rose bush that had become something of a special project for her. Mrs. Mason said that they were probably going to throw it out, but Jesse wouldn’t have it. So now she was focused pretty heavily on the plant, which was in fact showing some signs of improvement.

“I ... she’s ... over ...” came a voice faintly from ... somewhere. She looked up and around and only saw Richie looking at her from the other side of garden where he liked to work.
“What did you say?” she called to him.

He looked surprised, even startled. “Uh ... Nothing.” He called back as he quickly gathered his books and left.

“Boys,” she said to herself, a little vexed as she turned her attention back to the bush.

Richie had been watching her for a couple minutes entirely ignoring his homework. They had him studying European history, which, as far as he was concerned, was totally useless. When would he ever use it? He was just beginning the Inquisition ... what little he’d read made him nauseous.

So his attention wasn’t entirely focused on the book when he was distracted by something out of the corner of his eye ... a green sparkle coming from Jesse’s direction.

When he looked up, all he saw was the girl hunched over a dying rose bush across the garden. He only actually talked to her a few times. She seemed nice.

He didn’t see the flash again and assumed that it was a reflection of the water in the bay, which he could see in the distance.

“I wonder what she’s doing over there?” he thought, intrigued by the attention that she was paying the rose bush.

At that moment she looked up and focused her attention on him. When their eyes met, he felt a strange warmth in his mind and body. Not painful ... just warm ... soothing.

“What did you say?” she called out. When she spoke the feeling intensified.

He jerked back, startled. When she spoke it was as if she were right next to him speaking in his ear. In his confusion, he didn’t know what to say or do.

“Uh ... Nothing” was the best he could do as he picked up his books and headed for the elevator.

They ate their lunch on top of the building. In the week since his encounter with her, Richie had decided that the whole thing was just his imagination ... although it took him a couple days to get up enough nerve to come up to the roof garden when he knew she’d be there.

But now everything seemed normal and that suited Richie just fine.

For his lunch, Richie had his favorite sandwich: peanut butter and grape jelly. It looked liked Jesse had macaroni and cheese which he was also very fond of.

As Jesse glanced away to take a soda from a nearby cooler, Richie thought, “I wonder if she’d like to trade.”

“Sure.” She turned back to face him. “What do you have?”

Richie had just taken a drink of his own soda and nearly choked on it in his surprise.

After recovering somewhat, he spoke. “Why did you ask me that?”

“What do you mean why?” she responded, “You asked if I wanted to trade, and I said what do you have? ... What’s wrong with you?”

That soothing warmth flooded him again, but this time he didn’t run away ... even though he wanted to.

“Well for one thing I didn’t say anything ... out loud.”

He just stared at her for a second, and before she could say anything else, he spoke in his mind. “I ... have ... peanut butter ... and ... jelly.”

As her eyes widened so did his smile. He knew she’d “heard” him.

She was stunned for a couple seconds and then spoke up. “That felt ...”.

“Talk in your head,” Richie said silently.

He could see her concentrate a little, but when she came through it felt ... natural.

“It feels ... warm. Nice.” She thought.

“I know. Have you ever done this before?”

“No. Never.”

“Huh. Me neither.”

He reached down and tore his sandwich in half. As he took a bite out of one half, he handed the other half to Jessie.

While he chewed, he sent a thought, “This is fun. Now I can talk with my mouth full.” And being a ten-year-old boy, he opened his mouth to prove it.

She laughed so hard she fell off the bench. They also found the first limitation of their new way of talking to each other ... laughing out loud was much better than laughing on the inside.

For the next few weeks they never spoke to each other out loud except when grownups were around. This was their secret ... their private talking.

As they used it more, it only got stronger until finally Richie could talk to her when he entered the building and she was in the rooftop garden.

Chapt. 10 - Options (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 8 - An Ending (Part 3)

2005-09-18T15:16:00.000-07:00

After five weeks of pretty constant physical therapy, Catherine was finally beginning to recover from her injuries. She could stand with only a little dizziness. Walking was still a problem, but she was steadily improving. Her emotional health, however, was a different story.

At first her emotions ran wild. Seemingly without warning she would jump from deep depression to blinding rage to whole-body sobs and back again all in the span of minutes. But as time progressed, she began to level out to a general sadness as she mourned the loss of her husband for the second time with fewer and fewer “fits”, as she had come to call them.

Mac was sitting with her and Jesse as he had come to do almost every afternoon since the incident. They were gathered around Catherine’s bed, deep into a game of Monopoly.

“Okay, Mac it’s your turn.” Jesse was very happy with the way things were going with the game ... and with Mac and her mother. Mac was about to land on Boardwalk that also happened to be covered by her hotel. She would only give one of the dice a little mental nudge to make sure it hit on the right number. Some might have looked at this as cheating, but since the ‘pull my finger’ incident with Mac, she felt she owed him one. Of course her mother had no idea what was going on.

Mac rolled, she nudged, and the dice landed ... but to her surprise, instead of putting him on Boardwalk the total allowed him a free ride through to land on one of the purple properties. She looked at him and saw a sly grin on his face and his usual mischievous sparkle in his eyes. And to top if off, as the banker, she had to give him his $200 for passing GO.

He whispered just loud enough for Jesse to hear. “Always remember ... there are two dice ...”
“What was that, Mac?” Catherine picked up the dice to take her turn.

“Oh nothing,” replied Mac. “I’m just glad I didn’t land inside Jesse’s little empire.” He tousled the girl’s hair.

While Catherine rolled the dice and moved her piece, Mac spoke without taking his gaze from the game board.

“Hello, Bob. Welcome to our little example of cut-throat capitalism.”

Startled, both Catherine and Jesse looked behind were Mac sat to see Bob Danann enter the bedroom. He was dressed more casually then normal in a short-sleeved polo shirt and slacks.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. I just wanted to come down and talk with Catherine for a little while.” Bob gave Mac a meaningful look.

Mac spoke up, “Hey Jesse, why don’t we put this game aside for a while, go up to the garden, and let Bob and your mom talk.”

Jesse looked at her mother, who although puzzled, nodded her ascent.

Jesse held her hand out and they both left the room hand-in-hand.

Bob very carefully moved the rolling table that held the game board aside and pulled up a chair.

More than a little impatient, Catherine spoke first. “So what brings you down here to interrupt a fine afternoon with my daughter ... and Mac.”

“Well, Catherine, I know you prefer straightforward conversation, so I’ll come right to the point ... I’m here to discuss your options.”

Chapt. 9 - Stirrings

Book I: The Others - Chapter 8 - An Ending (Part 2)

2005-09-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

He had nearly been too late to save her. When he arrived, all he saw was the blood and the fact the Catherine had stopped breathing. He couldn’t immediately tell exactly where her injuries were because she was covered with both her’s and Conner’s blood. He knelt beside her as he rolled her onto her back and gently placed his right hand on her chest. He closed his eyes in intense concentration as he searched for any shred of life that might still remain. But there was nothing there, nothing for him to grab onto.

He opened his eyes and stared up into the drizzle that was beginning to fall. His control broke as the tears flowed down his cheeks. He screamed into the night sky, “NO! THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!”

His eyes fell back to Catherine’s body and his resolve hardened as he whispered, “This won’t happen.” He said it with a finality that left no alternative.

He leaned forward over her once again and opened her blouse placing his hands on both sides of her ribcage. Closing his eyes again, he remained motionless. In seconds the air around them began to crackle. As the city lights above and around them begin to dim, an invisible sphere of energy expanded, surrounding Mac and then Catherine as it grew. Mac’s hair slowly began to stand on end, and if he’d been paying attention, he would have tasted ozone in the air. As the rain hit the sphere, it sizzled slightly and jumped away. Not a drop fell on the two within the ball of energy.

With a great convulsion, the sphere collapse into Mac, and Catherine’s back arched as arcs of electricity passed between his hands.

Visibly shaking from the effort, Mac again felt for a spark of life knowing that this was her last chance. His hand touched several points along her body, starting at the top of her head and moving along it, laying a hand on her forehead, throat, chest, stomach, and groin. Still nothing.

He was desperate now. “Come on Catherine. Don’t give up now. Think of Jesse. Fight it! Fight it with every ounce of your being!”

His whole body shook on the edge of total exhaustion, but not knowing what else to do he worked his way back up her wet body. Then he felt it -- the smallest of sparks. He focused on the area above her heart. It was getting stronger.

He let out a sob of relief. He whispered both to himself and Cat, “That’s good. Keep going.” He knew that although she wasn’t technically alive yet, at least he had something to work with. He redoubled his efforts, trying to nurture that little bit of life toward him, toward the living world.
He breathed into her mouth as he sensed the tiniest thread of a heartbeat.

In her ear, he pleaded, “Come on Catherine, you’re almost there. All you have to do is breathe for me. Just one breath. For Jesse. For me. Please.” He was on the edge now, begging for her life and about ready to pass out. This was it. “Breathe. Now!”

And she did.

With a great cough, she began to breathe on her own. It was shallow but regular. He turned her on her side to allow any fluid to drain out of her mouth.

Before he collapsed into unconsciousness, he heard the sirens arriving. They found him on his side next to Catherine. They were both unconscious, but her hand was under his head, propping it up, keeping it out of the growing puddle of water and gore that surrounded them.

Chapt. 8 - An Ending (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 8 - An Ending (Part 1)

2005-09-14T20:40:00.000-07:00

It really was a good day for a funeral. The sun was shining and a cool breeze blew through the trees. Every so often a shadow of an afternoon cloud would scud across the cemetery keeping the gathered mourners cool in their dark clothing.

A large bouquet of flowers and a photograph of the deceased sat atop the single casket. Only a few people gathered around the grave as the priest closed the ceremony.

“... and the blessing of God almighty," he prayed, "the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.” The priest raised his head from the prayer and nodded to Jessica.

Holding Mac’s hand, with tears streaming down her small cheeks, she walked forward to place a single rose upon her mother’s coffin. Mac followed suit, and they both walked away to a waiting car. Behind them came Bob Danann, who was accompanied by a woman and a boy about Jessica’s age. Linda Mason and her husband followed them, and finally Marcus O’Donovan came forward holding hands with Jaime, his receptionist and wife.

As the last mourner left, the coffin was lowered into the ground to reveal a dark marble headstone:

Catherine Seamus Lochbairn-Connely
B. February 14, 2006
D. June 23, 2041
Beloved Mother and Wife

The television screen went black as Jessica stopped the recording of the funeral.

“You see how good I was?” She was very proud of herself. “I didn’t forget anything.”
She sat in a chair next to a hospital bed.

“Yes, you did very well. I’m so proud of you.” The woman in the bed held her arms out toward the little girl. “Come up here and give your mum a hug.”

Jessica jumped up from the chair and jostled the bed a little when she climbed on.

“Gently dear. Momma still hurts a little.” Catherine, enfolding Jesse in her arms, held her daughter for a long time thinking about all that had happened in the last few weeks.

When she woke up for the first time after the shooting, the initial thing she noticed was the lack of feeling or more precisely the lack of sensation, and this, needless to say, scared the crap out of her.

She opened her eyes, but could only see out of the left one. It was enough to see that she was on her side in a hospital bed. She looked beyond the chrome safety bars and recognized the view out of the window ... she was in her own bedroom in the Danann building and the windows were darkened. In the shadows, she saw someone in a chair near the foot of the bed. It was Mac ... sound asleep with his head tilted back, mouth open. He looked like he ought to be snoring but she couldn’t hear anything. She tried to turn onto her back but she couldn’t move.

“This just gets better and better,” she whispered. She couldn’t hear the sound of her own voice. Not even on the inside.

She wasn’t sure what was happening. She spoke up hoping that it was loud enough for Mac to hear. “Mac!”

His head snapped up so quickly he nearly fell out of his chair. After he regained his equilibrium, he saw her staring him ... with tears of fear in her eyes.

He gave her a reassuring smile that almost made her feel reassured. He started to say something, but all she saw was his lips moving.

“Mac, I can’t hear what you're saying!” She was probably screaming, but at this point she didn’t care. “I can’t feel anything! What’s going on?”

Mac, looked confused for a second then held up his hand, signaling for her to wait. He then walked around the bed out of her field of view.

She sensed some movement, and then she saw that she was being rotated onto her back. Mac came into view at the head of the bed. He held a control pad in his hands.

He tapped the pad a couple times, and the bed changed shape, bringing her to a semi-sitting position. He tapped the pad a couple more times and, looking at her, began talking while slowly sliding his finger from the bottom of the display toward the top.

As she watched his finger move, she slowly began to hear him speaking to her.

“... slowly removing the aural block. Just let me know if you can hear me ... Catherine, can you hear me?”

“Yes! Yes, loud and clear thank God.” She breathed a sign of relief. “I don’t suppose you can restore the feeling in the other parts of me?”

“Well, we’ll have to let the doctors look at you and make sure you’re able to handle it.”

“Handle it? Handle what? Mac, just level with me, what’s my condition? The last thing I remember is ...” She look puzzled for a moment. “The last thing I remember is ... running out of here to go find Conner ... Then I was at that pub where he hung out ... I followed him into the alley ...” She paused again struggling to put the fragments of her memories back together.

“Catherine, don’t force yourself. They’ll come in their own time. Just rest, and devote your energy to getting ...”

Catherine’s eyes snapped up to meet Mac’s, and he could feel the mental energy of her realization and see the tears beginning to well up. “Oh my God, Mac! He remembered me ... and Jesse. He knew me, Mac. He remembered ...” She started breathing heavily, becoming seriously distressed. “Mac, he remembered, and then they ... “ She let out a gut wrenching sob. “They killed him, Mac! They killed him!”

Catherine broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Mac couldn’t stand it any longer. He manipulated the control pad again. “Catherine you need to rest now ...” Catherine’s puffy eyes began to droop.Mac went over to her, tenderly moved the hair out of her eyes and brushed the tears from her face with his thumb. Just before she finally fell asleep, he whispered, “You’re wrong about one thing ... they killed both of you.”

Chapt. 8 - An Ending (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 7 - Conner (Part 4)

2005-09-12T20:02:00.000-07:00

“Who the hell are you?” Conner’s voice was calm but menacing. His Scottish accent had only slightly dulled in the year since his disappearance. She recognized the voice but not the tone. It was rougher, meaner. It scared her.

“Uh ... my name is Catherine ... Catherine Connley.” She searched his eyes for even the slightest flicker of recognition. This was the moment that would decide everything.

She saw in his eyes only the cold reflections of a nearby streetlamp and nothing else.

“Do I know you?” he inquired. “Do you work for Smitty?”

Taking a chance, Catherine decided to try to draw him out. “Do I remind you of someone? Someone you used to know. My name is Catherine or maybe you’d remember Cat.”

He was clearly confused but still held the gun rock solid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’d better get out of here before I have to do something we’ll both regret.”

She pressed on with one final effort. She pulled out the photo of Jesse and her father under the tree and showed it to him. “What about Jessica? Do you remember her?”

She could almost see the thoughts whipping back and forth, the memories struggling to surface.

His gun began to waver with his concentration. He struggled to form the words; fighting an internal battle that actually raised beads of sweat on his forehead. “Jesse?” he whispered.

His eyes were glued to the photograph hungering for every detail feeding a chain reaction of memories.

A veil seemed to lift from his eyes as he finally focused on Catherine. “Jesse.” The gun clattered on the ground as it dropped from his limp fingers.

“Conner?” Catherine began to weep as she saw the recognition in his eyes. “Are you ... you?”

“Cat ... I ... I don’t understand. What’s happening to me? Where am I?” He started to lean to the side as if he was going to fall, but before he could, she caught him up against the wall of the alley and embraced him.

She could hardly speak as tears of joy and relief coursed down her cheeks onto his shoulder. “Oh, Conner. Conner. I knew it. I knew you couldn’t leave me.”

He held her just as tightly and wept along with her. “I love you so much .. so much. I felt so empty in that prison. Then there was the light ... so bright ... it seared and it froze.” He paused for a second and looked her in the eyes. “Oh Catherine, I love you so much.” He kissed her lips over and over again as if trying to make up for lost time, and she was right there with him.

“... so much ... Cat ... Jesse ... Jesse”

“I love you I ... missed you ... ” she squeezed in between kisses.

He stopped and embraced her again.

“Jesse ... where’s Jesse? Is she ...”

He jerked suddenly in her arms and wash of warmth flowed over her neck and shoulders. “Conner? What’s wr ...” She turned her head and saw that half of Conner’s face was missing. Before she could scream, something slammed her head and body against the wall.

In some distant part of her mind she marveled at the fact that even after a traumatic gunshot wound, which could be the only cause of all of this painful numbness, she could still process enough information to notice everything was sideways ... including the pair of wingtips. She found it amazingly funny that someone with enough style to wear those shoes would not bother to repair the loosened stitching around the toe panel.

The wearer of the shoes knelt down near her. His left hand held a handgun of some kind and the other was checking for vital signs. She made a feeble attempt to reach for the man, but he deflected her hand easily before she could touch him. She saw smoke flow slowly from the barrel of the weapon.The man stood up and turned to leave. As his shoes walked out of her field of view, she closed her eyes; her breathing slowed, then stopped.

Chapt. 8 - An Ending (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 7 - Conner (Part 3)

2005-09-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

Catherine chuckled at the memory as she changed into some loose fitting, dark clothing. She also remembered that after a brief ceremony of placing her diaphragm in a seldom-used drawer in the bathroom, Conner fulfilled his debt. Four times.

Unfortunately, getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as that. They tried for a year without success until finally they consulted a fertility clinic. After weeks of testing, they found that although both her eggs and Conner’s “little solders” (as he like to call them) were healthy, they just wouldn’t come together. Conner said it was because her eggs were just being stubborn, and, of course, Catherine blamed the “general” in charge of the “little solders”. Finally, they opted for artificial insemination, and nine months later, Jessica Lynn Connley was born.

Walking back into the bedroom, she noticed a paper bag sitting next to the wrapping paper. She opened the bag and pulled out a small, waistband holster and a new concealed weapons license for the state of California filled out in her photograph, name, and signature.

She shook her head in wonderment, “Who are these people?”

At this point she really didn’t care about the answer. She attached the silencer, put the gun in the holster and attached the holster to her belt at the small of her back. She grabbed a long black leather coat from the closet.

Catherine briefly looked at the bright lights of the city through the closet window and wondered what she was doing. Not waiting for a definitive answer, she grabbed some cash from her purse and headed for the elevator. Once inside, she pushed the button for the ground floor.

As the car arrived, she was through the doors as soon as she could fit through. She quickly passed the security guard.

“Good evening, Mrs. Connley ... Mrs. Connley? Do you have an escort? ... Mrs. Connley!” The guard stood at his station trying to get her attention, but she acted as if she couldn’t hear him. Before he could stop her, she was through the revolving doors and into the street. The guard picked up a phone and started dialing.

She hailed a cab and gave him an address. Within minutes she arrived at her destination ... a small, non-descript pub in a darker part of the city.

Across the street, a little park was struggling against the encroaching city. Catherine crossed and stood in the dark shadow under the only tree in the park waiting, watching.

After an hour and right on time according to his file, a cab pulled up in front of the pub. A man got out and stood in the shadows looking around. When he looked in her direction, the meager light caught his face. It was Conner. She watched as he walked around the corner into the alley.

Taking a deep breath, she followed. So ... this was the plan. It was crazy, dangerous, and possibly deadly, but she had to know for sure, see him with her own eyes, before she’d believe he was “unrecoverable”. She entered the alley just as he slipped around another corner.She picked up her pace a little as she approached the corner so she wouldn’t lose him in the darkness. She rounded the corner and almost ran into the silenced pistol that Conner aimed at her head.

Chapt. 7 - Conner (Part 4)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 7 - Conner (Part 2)

2005-09-08T21:48:00.000-07:00

Catherine stood there for a moment not sure where she was going. “What floor please?” intoned the friendly elevator voice.

Not knowing what else to do at the moment, she stuck her key card in the slot and stood there staring at it.

Catherine wasn’t sad. Nor was she angry. She was empty, and that scared her. She thought she should feel something ... anything.

She pushed the button for her floor.

Moments later she was walking into her suite and back to the bedroom. The place had an eerie emptiness that made her uncomfortable, but then she remembered that Jesse was still on the roof with Mrs. Mason. She smiled, recalling the way Conner and her daughter together could fill a room with so much life and vitality that she almost saw the air shimmer around them. As she entered her bedroom, she noticed a package on the bed with a note attached. She picked up the note and read it.

“Catherine, I’m sorry. I hope you’ll wait for me, but knowing that you probably won’t, take this and be safe.”

It was signed simply with an “M”.

She reached down and lifted the package knowing what it was before she opened it.

Removing the paper revealed a twelve by eight inch wooden box with a single latch on the front. She put the box back on the bed, thumbed the latch and opened the lid.

Embedded in red velvet was a brand new Walther P99 semi-automatic pistol, a detached silencer, and two full clips. She smiled as she expertly lifted the weapon in her right hand and a clip with the other. In what seemed like a single fluid movement she slammed the clip home, chambered a round, and thumbed the safety. This was the same make of gun that had been aimed at Mac from under her desk at the university. She took the weapon to the table in the “clothes room”, unloaded and disassembled it making sure that everything was in working order. She remembered a time when even seeing such a weapon made her uncomfortable, and the idea that she could take one apart and put it back together again in less then one minute would have been inconceivable.

She hadn’t really seen it coming, this affinity she had with handguns. Growing up in London where not even, at least back then, the police cared guns; she didn’t have any exposure to them. That was until she married Connor.

About a year after they were married, he was promoted to the anti-terrorist unit and as a consequence was allowed some leeway in carrying a personal weapon. It didn’t take long for Conner to notice that Catherine always seemed uneasy around his gun whether or not he was wearing it. In his eyes the only way to resolve the problem was to educate her about the weapons, how to use them safely, how they were not to be feared.

At the police firing range Conner took her through the basics, firing off all but one round at the target. “Now you try.” He said, handing her the gun.

Catherine was nervous at first. She didn’t feel comfortable with the weight of the weapon, the noise of the shooting range, or the glasses and ear protection that she wore.

“Just ignore all that.” Conner yelled in her ear. “Focus on the target. Imagine a path along the barrel, through the air, straight to where you want the bullet to go, and squeeze the trigger.”

Not quite believing the simplicity of it, she took his advice. She blocked out the noise, the pinching glasses, and the binding earpieces. She picked a spot on the man-like silhouette ten meters away, lined everything up and squeezed the trigger.

Conner pressed a button and the target slid toward them on a cable. His grouping was in the middle of the torso with only a couple of strays. He saw that Catherine’s shot was low and mentioned it.

“Actually, that’s just where I aimed.” With a smile and a raised eyebrow, she reached behind the target and put her finger in the hole she created ... about three centimeters above where the silhouette man’s legs met.

Conner chuckled as Catherine twisted her finger around a little. “You’re dirty.”

“That’s why you love me.” She wrapped her arms around him and drew him close.

“Only one of a million reasons.” He leaned down and kissed her. She responded in kind and surprised him with a quick dart of her tongue before she pulled back. “We should do this more often,” he said a little out of breath.

“What? Kiss?” She said playfully.

“Well, that too, but I was talking about shooting. It seems to have a positive effect on you.” He pulled the target off the cable. “This is a great shot.” He gave her a teasing glance. “But it was probably a fluke.” He started to roll the paper target. “Are you ready to go?”

“No, I’m not ready to go. Put another target up there. I’ll show you it wasn’t a fluke. I’ll bet you I can do it again. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet I can make any shot you can.”

“Are you sure about that? You’ve only fired one bullet. Are you really that confident?”

She really wasn’t, but it was too late to back down now. “I certainly am!”

“Okay. What are the stakes?”

“Let’s see.” Catherine thought for a few seconds. “If you win, I will buy you football tickets for the entire season.“ She had actually already bought them for his upcoming birthday, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Wow! That’s sounds great! I can hardly wait.”

“Not so fast.” Now she had him. “If I win, we start trying to have a baby.”

She watched his face for any negative reaction, but all she got was a big smile and a handshake as he said, “Done!”

He replaced a fresh target in the clip and pressed the button to return it to a point one-third the way to the other end of the range, and they began.

It went on and on. She matched him shot for shot. They shot for accuracy, speed, pattern, and combinations of each. It seemed she was a natural, and with every round she shot, she was getting more comfortable with the weapon and herself.

Finally, it was down to a single shot and she was last to go. The target was at the opposite end of the range, a full 30 meters distant. Conner was ahead on points and in order to beat him, Catherine had to hit a spot only slightly larger than the bullet itself.

By this time, their little competition had attracted a bit of a crowd, mostly other cops. At first there was the normal boisterous support that this sort of event fosters, but after an hour things became quieter as the crowd realized the level of skill and the stakes involved.

Catherine was settling into her shooting stance and cleared all of the distraction from her mind. She could barely make out the black speck that was her target, but she knew where it was. Her breathing slowed as she focused on the speck. It seemed to grow in her vision. She imagined a tunnel connecting the end of the pistol to the target through which the bullet would travel ... through which it must travel. When the path was complete, she slowly exhaled, closed her eyes and gently squeezed the trigger.

There was a cheer from the crowd at the results of the shot. She didn’t have to look; she knew that she’d nailed it.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Conner. He was smiling. “I humbly bow to your greatness.” And much to the appreciation of the audience, he did.

Chapt. 7 - Conner (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 7 - Conner (Part 1)

2005-09-06T21:27:00.000-07:00

As they arrived in the conference room Catherine immediately noticed that the mood had changed and not for the better.

Bob was seated at the foot of the table in his usual place. A file folder was placed directly before him with his hands, palms down, on either side. He seemed troubled.

Catherine sensed only the usual chill from Zannicus who also sat in the same chair as before.

Catherine sat down in her chair. “What is it? What has happened?” she said, not sure she wanted an answer.

Without a word Bob slid the file folder to Catherine. As she reached for the file she saw ‘Connley, Conner’ written on the tab. She hesitantly opened the file where it had stopped sliding, within reach.

There was a single piece of paper, a memo addressed to Robert Danann, and as she took it and began to read it, her heart sank.

To: Robert Danann
From: James Waxman, Team Lead, Recovery Unit, S.F.
RE: Recovery Potential of subject - Conner Connley a.k.a. Mathew Banks
Sir,
After analyzing the data and directly examining the subject, my team has calculated the odds of the following outcomes should recovery be attempted:
Fatality 80%
Debilitation* 90%
Complete memory recovery 2%
* - refers to mental retardation, loss of motor control, and other stroke-like defects
Recommendation:
Sir, given the minimal chances of even partial success, the recovery team recommends that we DISCONTINUE the recovery operation IMMEDIATELY.

Catherine sat silently reading the memo one more time. She slowly laid the memo back in the open folder and closed the folder. She leaned back in her chair, for a moment at a loss for words.

Not wishing to intrude on her thoughts, Bob and Mac remained silent. Zannicus didn’t seem to care.

Finally, she spoke, “Is that it? You brought me all the way out here for ... nothing? Nothing.”

“I’m sorry Catherine, I really thought that he could be recovered. But sometimes the reprogramming is just too complete and there’s nothing left. All we needed was a kernel, but it doesn’t seem that there’s even that. Emmanual’s team is the best in the business. I’m sure they have considered all of the options. I’m very sorry.”

Catherine slowly stood up. Her hands shook as she self-consciously straightened her blouse and said barely controlling her shaking voice, “I’m going to my room.”

As she turned to leave, Mac stood up to follow.

Without looking back Catherine raised her hand. “Mac, stay here. I can find my way, and I need to be alone right now.”

“But ...”

“Mac. Please.”

Mac’s face and eyes reflected the deep concern he felt for her as she walked out of the room. “If you need anything let me know,” and she was gone.Mac sat back down and the room was silent. The ding of the elevator could be heard in the distance as Catherine stepped into the car.

Chapt. 7 - Conner(Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 6 - The House of Danann (Part 3)

2005-09-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

Bob Danann paused for a few moment in his “presentation” to drink from a bottle of water on the table. Catherine watched as he studied the bottle before setting it down. She sensed that the irony of that bottle was not lost on the man.

“From time to time over the years a more direct approach has been required, and now is one of those times.” Danann again pointed his remote at the screen, and another picture of Blackman.

“This is the enemy of all of us and the leader of who we call The Others. Given the information that we’ve gathered, we’ve projected that without intervention William Blackman will seize total control of the world in less than ten years. We intend to stop him. Currently, we’re gathering data and preparing for the final confrontation. But while we’re doing that, we’re indirectly irritating Blackman’s organization. Not so much that it points to us, but enough to be an inconvenience.” Danann gave Catherine a satisfied smile, “And that, Catherine, is where you and your husband come in. By removing Collin from his position as a courier, we block – at least for a little while – a major conduit for weapons, drugs, cash, and much more ...”

Catherine interrupted, “But how did you find me in the first place, especially since even Collin thinks he’s someone else.”

Bob looked at her with a slightly pouty smile, “Catherine, do you want me to give away all of the family secrets?”

“No, just this one.” She wasn’t amused.

He looked at her for a few heartbeats as if he was trying to decide whether or not to divulge whatever little secret he was keeping.

“Oh, all right. It not that complicated really. We just obtained a DNA sample and traced it back through the prison records, Scotland Yard’s database, and finally to you.”

“But all of those records are sealed. How could you get access to them.”

Danann again smiled, this time with more than a little pride, “You’ll find, Catherine, that most of the United Kingdom’s and Ireland’s government records are archived and stored by a single company based in London, which as it happens is a recently acquired, wholly owned subsidiary of Danann International.”

She sat back for a moment, not nearly as shocked as she felt she should be. “Mr. Danann, I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“So are we, Mrs. Connley, so are we.”

Bob Danann looked at his watch. “Catherine, I have another meeting to attend. Can we continue this after dinner? I’m sure you’ll want to get you mind off of all this for a couple of hours.”

Catherine knew that the question was only meant as a courtesy so she stood up and extended her hand. “Of course. After dinner then.” Bob took her hand and grasped it.

“Maybe you’d like Mac to show you and Jesse around the city for a couple of hours? There’s plenty to see and great places to eat, and then Mac can let me know when you get back.”

The sunset was breathtaking from the garden atop the Danann building. Jesse ran around checking each flower, plant, and tree making sure all were healthy and happy. Watching her perform her duties, Mac and Catherine sat on a stone bench admiring the view.

Although Mac was an excellent tour guide, and Jesse was having a great time, Catherine just couldn’t get her heart into their little adventure into and around San Francisco.

They drove all around in Mac’s convertible going from the piers, to Ghirardelli Square, Ocean Beach, and Coit Tower to end up in North Beach for dinner. Catherine supposed the food had been excellent, but she was so caught up in reviewing the day’s events in her mind that she hardly remembered eating.

Mac apparently couldn’t help but notice her introspective mood and suggested that the roof garden was a perfect place to foster that kind of thinking. So back they went and as luck would have it they were just in time to watch the sunset.

Catherine sat there still lost in her thoughts. What was she going to do? Was she going to buy into this conspiracy theory? She wasn’t sure yet. What she was sure of, however, was that she was going to do everything she could to recover her husband so they could all go home as a family.

The fog was just now beginning to encroach on the city in its normal summer pattern, but it made a beautiful contrast with the red and orange wispy clouds higher up.

Breaking her silence, Catherine spoke up, “Does it look like this every day?”

“Not every day,” he replied. “Sometimes it’s even better.”

Linda Mason was just arriving when Mac glanced at his watch. “It looks like it’s about time for us to get back downstairs and finish up. Linda can watch Jesse until we’re finished.” He looked at Catherine for a couple of seconds. “Are you ready?”Catherine was feeling overloaded, but the next few hours would be the most important yet. She would find out more about Conner.

Chapt. 7 - Conner (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 6 - The House of Danann (Part 2)

2005-09-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

Now to the outside world, Danann International is exactly as it appears, a successful international philanthropic organization.”

They were back in the conference room. Everyone sat in their same seats including, much to Catherine’s disappointment, Zannicus.

Bob continued, sitting down at the head of the table, “But for all its success and its size it’s always been a family business.”

Bob Danann’s family history started very humbly. What historical account that they were able to uncover suggest that they were the only surviving members of the Taurisci, an ancient Celtic tribe that had settled in what is now Austria. Sometime around 14 BC, the Romans decimated them. The extended Danann family somehow survived the slaughter and started migrating.

Always moving generally westthrough what is now Switzerland, they wandered for years until they finally settled in a small, nameless village in France. As they established themselves in their new home, they took it upon themselves to help those in need as they were helped during their travels.

As the years went by, news of their generosity and resources spread beyond their village. Farmers and craftsman were enlisted to provide assistance when the need arose in return for the promise that should they need assistance in the future, the Danann’s would provide that assistance.

Within six generations the family was fairly well known throughout the region, a little too well known in fact.

The newly formed Catholic Church was just coming into power in the region. They didn’t appreciate the competition for the attention of the peasantry that the Danann’s were providing. At first the encounters were small, unorganized, and mostly harmless, but as the years went by, the Church began spreading its power and influence into the remote regions of France. Soon aggressive, organized attacks began to seriously affect the ability of the Danann family and their partners to provide the same level of aid that many in the region had come to depend on.

Finally, the Danann’s system of storage facilities was fired, killing several dozen innocents in the processes.

Finishing this part of their story, Catherine saw that Bob’s eyes shined with unshed tears. She was surprised by his emotional connection to such distant events.

Regaining control of his emotions, Bob continued. “We haven’t been able to recover any accounts of them for about the next two to three hundred years or so. We’re assuming that they went into hiding to avoid any further persecution.

“They resurfaced in Domrémy, France in 1400 or so and began reestablishing their business, but this time in secret. They were active all through the Spanish Inquisition providing protection and escape to alleged “heretics” and eventually expanded to include all of Europe and Britannia. They indirectly funded much of the early exploration of the New World and consequently expanded their operations.

“The Danann International of today is the result of that expansion. Our income comes primarily from manufacturing Dumai Scrubbers and other related equipment. Much of the profits are reinvested in the company or fund our philanthropic endeavors. However, a significant portion is used to support a somewhat less visible arm of the organization.”

Danann International had at least one office in every country in the world and in some as many as a dozen. They collected daily regional reports from each office, which were compiled and analyzed for possible trouble spots. They could respond to most crises within four hours with on site aid in not more than twelve hours.

The first time that they realized the power of the information that they gathered was in 1927 when one of their analysts gathered a sizeable amount of data that, in his opinion, predicted a worldwide stock market crash within three years. They found that this kind of global coverage gave them the opportunity to collect other types of information as well, and with such a wide perspective they were able to connect events and behaviors that other intelligence-gathering agencies may miss.

In this way they could always prepare for an event ahead of time. They were always one step ahead of the latest war, revolution, or police action and could add or take away their support as necessary. The survival of The Family was always the number one priority. If they could lend resources or support without jeopardizing their safety and security they would. Otherwise, they would withdraw quietly to a safe distance and observe and collect.

With a half smile Bob Danann said, “We are like shadows in the moonlight -- not easily seen except at the periphery.”

Chapt. 6 - The House of Danann(Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 6 - The House of Danann (Part 1)

2005-08-31T20:27:00.000-07:00

The elevators opened onto a small atrium that then opened into what Catherine could only describe as a park in the sky. The centerpiece of the setting was a large stone gazebo that doubled as a fountain. The water shot out of the top of the structure, splashed down on the roof, and fell in curtains around the sides, feeding a system of streams that threaded their way throughout the little park. Stone overhangs on the roof of the gazebo provide openings in the curtain of water for people to enter and sit on the benches within.

The rest of the roof garden was made up of rolling mounds of grass and flowers and a number of large potted trees. Several paths wound their way through the setting, starting at the perimeter and ending at the gazebo. Where the paths and streams met, small Japanese style bridges were constructed over the flowing water.

Throughout the park, stone tables and benches were set to allow visitors to admire the view of the park or the entire Bay Area. From the fog shrouded Golden Gate Bridge to the north, to the city surrounding them, to the sweep of the Bay around the city, every vantage was breathtaking. She knew it should be cold and windy on top of the build, but instead the sun was pleasantly warm and the breeze light and soothing.

“Momma! Isn’t this great!” Catherine’s attention focused on Jessica who was sitting with Linda Mason at one of the perimeter tables.

“It sure is, Hon,” Catherine called back.

As Catherine and Mac approached, Jessica continued, “Mrs. Mason said that if it’s alright with you, I can come up here any time I want. Can I Momma? Can I? I’ll be careful. Can I?” She was so excited she could hardly hold still.

“We’ll talk about it later, dear. But first it’s time for us to have some lunch.”

Mac spoke up, “What would you like? I can have something sent up?” He took out his phone and started dialing.

“Actually, Mac we’d like to go back to the rooms for a little while if it’s okay. I can put something together for us, but I just want to have some quiet time for Jesse and me.”
“That’s fine.” He hung up, and glanced at his watch. “If you could meet back at Bob’s office in say ... two hours?”

Catherine nodded her head and held her hand out to Jesse, “Okay, you little monster, let’s go get something to eat.” Jesse grabbed her hand, and they both left.

Watching Catherine enter the atrium, Mac stayed back with Linda. “So what do you think of little Jesse?” he asked.

“She’s a beautiful little girl.” She eyed Mac slyly, “just like her mother.” Mac absently nodded still staring at the closing atrium doors.

He shook his head and focused on Linda, “Did she do anything ... unusual?”

“Oh, nothing much ... We walked all over the garden, and wouldn’t you know it, every flower that wasn’t blooming before was blooming as we walked by them. And the one’s that were flowering seemed to be trying to pull themselves out the very ground just to get her attention. I tell you Mac, we’ve got ourselves a powerful one here, more than I’ve ever seen that’s for sure.”

Mac rubbed his chin as he spoke, “I thought as much. Maybe we should arrange a spontaneous meeting between her and the boy, and see what happens.”

Linda shook her head slightly, thinking to herself before she replied. “I don’t know. It might be a little early for that. I say we should wait a while first, see how mom takes all of this. It may turn out that we’ll have to let them both go.”

“That would surely be a shame.”

Linda knew he was referring to more than the loss of a gifted little girl.

Jesse had started another drawing while she munched on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the kitchen table. Catherine was dialing her cell phone.

“Marcus O’Donovan Investigations. How may I direct your call?”

“Jaime, it’s Catherine Connley, can I talk to Marcus?”

“Oh, Mrs. Connley, thank goodness you called, Marcus has been beside himself wondering if you were okay. I’ll connect you ...”

There was a click and Marcus came on the line. “Catherine, thank God you called. I didn’t hear any news of a plane crash or anything else mysterious but that didn’t make me feel any better. How are you? Is everything going okay?”

“Well to tell you the truth, Marcus, I’m a little overwhelmed. I can’t really talk about it over the phone, but so far we’ve been treated well ... very well actually.”

“Well be careful. I did some more digging, and found some unexpected shadows associated with Danann International. I’ll keep ...”

“Marcus, I appreciate your initiative, really I do, but I think that if you dig too deep, you may attract the wrong kind of attention for yourself and by association, me and Jesse. Please don’t do anything until I give you the go ahead. If things go as I suspect I’ll know more by tomorrow. I’ll call you then.”

“If you say so, Catherine. But you know how I love to dig up this sort of thing ...”

“Marcus, I’m counting on your self control. Please.”

“Okay. Okay ... We’ll talk tomorrow then?”

“Yes. Until then.”

Catherine hung up, hoping that O’Donovan would heed her advice.

Looking at the clock on the fridge, she noticed the lunch break was nearly over. “Jessica would you like to stay here and draw?”

“Yeah, okay.” She was concentrating on her latest masterpiece.

Catherine picked up the phone and pressed ‘1’. After a few rings Mac picked up. “Mac could you stay here and watch Jessica while I return to the meeting?”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll be right there.”

Catherine hung up and headed for the door. There was a knock just as she reached for the knob. When she opened it, Mac was standing there.

“So, did you check the peephole?”

“Shut up, I knew it was you.”

“How so. I could have been anyone.”

“Oh yeah. Anyone with cardkey access to a floor that can only be accessed by using one elevator out of a dozen in a building that’s guarded twenty-four hours a day?”

“Hey, it’s within the realm of possibility. I just want you and Jessica to be as safe as possible, which means only open the door for people that you know, and the only way to check is by using the peephole. Understand?”

She put her hands up in mock defense. “Yes, I got it. I’ll start using the peephole.”

Mac smiled as he watched her enter the elevator. As the doors closed, he saw her smile back.He closed the front door of the apartment and went to see what new things Jessica would surprise him with.

Chapt. 6 - The House of Danann (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 5 - The Meeting (Part 4)

2005-08-29T20:57:00.000-07:00

Bob Danann clicked his remote and the picture changed from a group shot of the World Council circled around the Council Seal to a publicity photo of the now well-known William Blackman. He was tall and thin with dark hair and an olive complexion. His smile never touched his eyes, which were mostly hidden in shadows behind a pair of small wire-rimmed glasses.

He continued, “The High Honorable Blackman has, for the last ten years led the Council in dispensing sweeping justice that, according to the propaganda, has effectively erased terrorism and most other so called ‘High Crimes’ such as drug trafficking, child exploitation, murder, and sexual deviancy. There are rumors that the definition of these crimes as ‘High’ is outlined in the Council’s Code of Ethics, also known simply as ‘The Law’.

“It is also rumored that the highest law, even above the Council’s Code of Ethics, is the word of the High Honorable Blackman himself.”

None of this information was new to Catherine, and she was still wondering how Danann International and her “dead” husband fit into all this.

Bob continued, “It’s likely that none of this information is new to you, especially for someone in your position at the university, and you’re probably wondering what all this has to do with you and me ... and your husband.”

Catherine was mostly successful in hiding her surprise at this minor act of apparent mind reading.

“William Blackman is not the moral and ethical man that he projects to the public.”

The picture on the wall shifted again to show a video of William Blackman dressed in some kind of ceremonial robe presiding over a couple of hundred similarly dressed individuals. Behind him on the raised dais was a large bon-fire burning below an elevated symbol of a square inside a circle that was struck though with three diagonal slashes from right to left. In mid-speech, he spoke with such fervor that he sprayed the first row of the group with his spittle. The firelight reflecting off his glasses made it seem that his eyes were glowing red. The cameraman seemed to be hiding above and behind the assembly in some sort of balcony.

Blackman’s voice could just be heard, “... are sheep to be gathered and led. They do not know the path, and it is we few here who must make them follow. The weak will fall, as they should, to be devoured by the wolves of our righteousness. But the strong will survive and flourish to become stronger.”

Blackman paused dramatically and gazed almost lovingly at the congregation.

“I am here to lead you, the strong and the righteous, to victory at whatever the cost. Now go out into the world, gather the flock and cull the weak. Our preparations are nearly complete ...”

There was a commotion and the camera veered sickeningly sideways and just caught a glimpse of a fast approaching robed figure before the recording ended in static.

“The man who took this film barely escaped with his life.” Bob pointed his remote again, and the view changed to show a man in a hospital bed with both arms in casts and his face one big bloody mess.

“We refer to Blackman and his followers as The Others. To put it simply, Catherine, we’re here to put a stop to him and men like him, and my family has been doing it for more than two thousand years.”

Catherine just sat there not knowing quite how to respond to the implications of what she’d been told.

Bob looked at his watch. “It looks like it’s about time for lunch. Mac, why don’t you take Catherine up to the roof to see the garden, you can order lunch from up there.”

Mac stood and came around the table and stood behind Catherine who hadn’t moved from her chair.

“Catherine, if you’ll follow me ...”

“Yeah ... okay.” She slowly stood using Mac’s arm for support. “Did he say two thousand years?”
“We’re a very old family.”

Regaining her composure, she smiled at him. “You don’t look a year over thirty-five to me.”

He returned her gaze without expression, “You’d be surprised.”

But she could already read his eyes and see that he was joking ... maybe.

Chapt. 6 - The House of Danann (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 5 - The Meeting (Part 3)

2005-08-29T20:49:00.000-07:00

Catherine was about Jesse’s age when the epidemic wiped out nearly thirty percent of the world’s population. The disease, it was eventually reported, was a mutation of the common flu that, if not addressed within twenty-four hours after the symptoms appeared, was untreatable and terminal within another day. Her mother had told her that she had almost died from it, but she couldn’t remember anything except disconnected images.

It was a hearty virus that was initially carried through contaminated water and food supplies, but quickly mutated to be able to survive as an airborne pathogen as well. Hardest hit were outlying communities in third world nations. Before help could arrive entire villages were decimated.

The source of the initial contamination was discovered too late as a distributor of humanitarian aid in the U.S. that transported water and foodstuffs throughout the world. Millions of tons of contaminated material were shipped before it could be contained.

The simultaneous international outbreaks happened too quickly to stop. Within a week of the first documented cases, the Centers for Disease Control issued a statement describing a preliminary course of treatment that could be administered until a vaccine was developed. Thirty million people died that first week. In the second week over fifty million more succumbed.

In the third week, the CDC and their partners around the globe began mass production of a vaccine. Even with an unprecedented amount of international cooperation it took another three weeks to vaccinate eighty percent of the surviving population. Just after the sixth week of the epidemic, it was estimated that more the two billion people died of the disease, although it was probably more.

Disposing of the dead became a global issue, as the only way to decontaminate an infected body was cremation. This requirement not only had religious implications around the world but logistical ones as well. Many countries didn’t have the capability to cremate so many and those that were capable didn’t have the capacity. Any installation that could produce the required heat was converted to handle the task. This created an entire industry, in some countries an entire economy, dedicated to the cremation of the dead.

Then pollution became a major concern. Luckily, out of nowhere, an industrious chemical engineer in India came up with a device that would completely ‘scrub’ the output gases of all contaminates. The remaining waste, completely biodegradable and nutrient rich, was incorporated into crop fertilizer. Now that the ‘Dumai Scrubber’, named after its inventor, was out of the bag, within fifteen years every exhaust-belching factory, truck, and car was fitted with the device thereby eliminating ninety-eight percent of the world’s polluters. Some said the price tag for cleaner air was a bit high.

During the epidemic, most of the world’s countries turned inward in order to take care of their own problems. This caused many international organizations including the United Nations to collapse from lack of support and in some cases lack of participation.Then, without warning, fifteen years after The Outbreak all the countries of the world without exception collaborated to form The World Council. This new council would be lead by William Blackman, the “Voice of Reason” for The New World Order.

Chapt. 5 - The Meeting (Part 4)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 5 - The Meeting (Part 2)

2005-08-25T20:20:00.000-07:00

They entered the spacious corner office of the President and CEO of Danann International. Catherine was surprised by the austerity of the space. She thought that with as much power and history as Robert Danann and his company apparently had, he would have injected more personality in the room’s decor. There were only two embellishments that weren’t what she’d call Standard Corporate Executive Decorations. Hanging on the wall, she noticed a remarkably life-like painting of a large oak in the center of a garden or a park. Closer examination revealed the painting as a fantasy work as there was a peopled stairway spiraling up the trunk giving the tree an impossible scale. The other apparently personal addition was a miniature bonsai tree on a small table in the corner of the room behind the executive’s desk. It grew in an amazing likeness of the tree in the painting.

Robert Danann was behind the desk looking over some paper work. He looked up as they approached and gave Catherine an expressive and seemingly genuine smile. He didn’t give her any of the odd, slippery feelings of the night before. She chalked up the previous night’s experience to jet lag.

“Good morning, Mrs. Connley. I hope you slept well. Did you find everything that you needed?”

“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Danann. Everything was fine. As a matter of fact, I slept better than I have in a while. I seem to have gotten over my jet lag, which is surprising.”

He smile and nodde as he stood up. He motioning toward a door to his right and said, “Why don’t we go into the conference room?”

While Mac led her into the room, Danann pushed a button on his phone and after a moment or two there was a manly “Yes?” to which he replied, “We’re in the conference room.” He then pressed another button and went through the doorway while Mac held the door.

“Please Mrs. Connley, sit anywhere that you wish.” He motioned to the chairs around a long conference table.

She sat down at the table with Mac sitting across from her. Danann stood at the end of the table, opposite the windows. She’d prepared for this all morning. She had the same feelings as when she argued a case before a hostile jury. She was ready for battle.

“Mr. Danann,” she began setting Conner’s file on the table, “I’ve read through the file as you requested, but I’m not sure what to make of it. There are a lot of holes that I need you to fill before we continue. First of all, what’s the big picture? I’m sure that you didn’t bring me here out of the goodness of your heart, however good it might be. Second, who or what is this secret organization that took my husband, and why? Thirdly, what is your part in all this? And finally, what do you want from me?

“Don’t get me wrong. I do appreciate the lengths you’ve gone to get me here. Mac has been very generous with his time, and Jesse seems to like him, and she’s a pretty good judge of character. However, I think I’m entitled to know the whole of it. Otherwise, I’ll thank you for your hospitality, and go find Conner myself.”

Danann stood there for a moment then looked at Mac who only shrugged.

Danann began to pace, “Mrs. Connley, I appreciate your candor and quite understand your reluctance to entirely trust us. This is exactly the reason for this meeting. I wish to personally answer all of your questions and hopefully allay any fears that you might have concerning us and what we do.”

He stopped for a moment, looked directly at her and smiled, putting her somewhat at ease. “Considering what we’re about to talk about, I think you can call me Bob. May I call you Catherine?”

She nodded.

“Okay. First off, the things that we’re going to talk about probably shouldn’t leave this room. Partly because no one would believe you, but mostly for your own safety.”

He took a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button. The lights dimmed, the windows darkened, and a panel in the wall behind him lowered to reveal a large screen.

Before he started talking again a door opened, and in walked a shadow of a man. He was tall and thin dressed in black, but Catherine couldn’t make out any details in the gloom. Looking at the man gave her a chill.

“Ah, Emmanuel, thanks for coming. Have a seat. We’re about to start the show.” To Catherine, he said, “Catherine, this is Emmanuel Zannicus, my chief of security, and the person responsible for compiling most of the information about your husband.” Then to Emmanuel, “Emmanuel, meet Catherine Connley.”

He reached over the table to shake her hand. “I feel as if I already know you.” He paused slightly longer than normal. “I’m glad to finally make your acquaintance.”

All Catherine could see were the whites of his eyes as he leaned forward, and the sound of his voice gave her more chills. She hesitated, not wanting to touch him, but finally she leaned forward and took his hand. “Likewise,” she said releasing as soon as she could.

Sitting across from Catherine, Mac witnessed the exchange, and noticed her hesitation. He filed it away for later.

“Okay, now that we’re all here, we can continue.”

Bob Danann pointed his remote at the screen and it displayed a newspaper from thirty years before. The headline read, “THE UNITED NATIONS COLLAPSES!” and immediately underneath “Hundreds of Millions Die in Worldwide Outbreaks!” and “’No Cure Yet’ says the CDC!”

“As near as we can figure it,” he said looking at the screen, his face scowling in profile, “they arrived on the scene right in the middle of all this turmoil when no one would notice a few new faces poking around the international arena.”

Chapt. 5 - The Meeting (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 5 - The Meeting (Part 1)

2005-08-23T19:49:00.000-07:00

As Catherine sat on the living room sofa, she could hardly believe what she was reading.

The documents that she read outlined the chronology of events in the life of one Mathew Banks. He was happily married to a young wife who was six months pregnant with their first child. They lived in an unremarkable upper-middle class neighborhood in South San Francisco.

There were several photographs that were taken over the last three months. Most were mundane in nature. He was walking in a park or down a street, sometimes with and other times without his “wife”. But all of them held the image of her deceased husband Conner.

Looking through all of the information, she felt remarkably calm. Maybe it was the fact that basically, she was reading about someone else’s life, not her husband’s ... his twin brother maybe. The person that was her husband died more than a year ago, and though the memory was still painful, it was more of a dull ache that she could forget about some of the time. She had finished mourning him and was ready to move on, at least until now.

Now she didn’t know whether to be happy because of the possible return of her husband who is not her husband, or pissed off because he was married to someone else with a baby on the way, and she still had no idea how to tell her daughter what was going on. As far as Jesse knew, “Momma was doing some business before their vacation started.”

With her thoughts turned toward Jessica, she got a slight twinge from what she called her Jesse Radar that indicated there was something going on in the kitchen. “Is everything all right in there?” she called out.

She heard Jesse speak up, “I was just helping Mister Blythe with one of his plants. Do you want to see?”

“Maybe later, honey,” Catherine said as another photo caught her attention.

In the photo, he was standing in a dark alley waiting for something, but what caught her attention was his expression. After ten years of marriage she could still read him. He was enjoying the hell out of whatever it was he was doing. He used to get the same look before he went out on a raid, whenever he could exact a little justice and “take down the bad guys” as he used to say. But now, it seemed he was one of the bad guys.

By day, he was a fairly successful investment banker who carpooled to work everyday and on occasion ate lunch at a pub near where he worked. By night, according to the final page of the papers, he was a courier for an unspecified organization whose aims were not entirely in the best interest of the world at large.

There were few details concerning the organization. They were referred to only as The Others.Now she was even more conflicted. She decided to go through the data one more time in case she missed something.

A phone rang in the kitchen and was quickly answered. Catherine heard one end of a muffled conversion. It started to get clearer as Mac approached with a cell phone in his ear.

“Sure ... I’ll ask her.” He pulled the phone away from his mouth and spoke to Catherine. “Bob can’t make it down here, but wonders if we could all go to his offices downstairs?”

Not particularly caring one way or the other, Catherine shrugs her shoulders, “Okay.”

Back into the phone, “She says okay.” He listened for a few more seconds, said, “Will do,” and hung up.

“He suggests that we go down right now, if that’s okay.”

Catherine stood up taking the papers. “We’ll have to bring Jesse with us.” She wasn’t asking.
“That’ll be fine.”

Catherine gathered the pile of papers in a folder and stood up, ready to leave.

Turning around he led Catherine into the kitchen were she saw Jesse’s drawing already posted on the refrigerator. Jesse was looking intently at a little potted plant. There were several healthy, mature plants growing in it.

“Jesse, let’s go. We’re going downstairs to talk to Mr. Danann.” Jesse climbed down off her chair, “Okay.” She pointed to the little pot and said, “Look what Mac gave me! Isn’t it neat?”

“It sure is dear. Just make sure you take good care of it.”

Mac led them out to the elevators, and they got in. As the doors closed, she looked sideways at Mac, again trying to figure him out. He smiled, seeming to know what she was thinking.

When the elevator doors opened again they stepped out into fairly standard looking office setting. People were bustling about as if they were late for wherever they had to go. Others were animatedly talking on phones, waving arms and nodding heads, oblivious to how silly it looked. There was a tension in the room that reminded Catherine of finals week at the university.

Mac steered them to the right and down a short hallway toward a more peaceful section of the floor. The hallway opened up to reveal a comfortable looking sitting area. Seated at a large desk, lording over the entire room was Robert Danann’s executive assistant. With a mere look she sized up the small group. The look said that they’d passed some unknowable and probably critical test and would be allowed to pass. Catherine knew that with only a small shift of the eyes, that same look could whither the largest egos of any who dared enter her domain without authorization.

Then Mac turned on the charm and the stern middle-aged lady turned into their favorite aunt.
“Good morning, Mrs. Mason. Seeing you, I think my day just got a little brighter. As usual, you look stunning.”

As he talked it seemed that the matronly lady did actually become slightly more attractive.

He continued now with a little sadness in his voice, “I suppose you’re still happily married to the supremely lucky Mr. Mason. You know I could make you a very happy woman.” He got down on one knee and grabbed one of her hands. “Let’s go away together, just you and me.”

Mrs. Mason looked down at him for a second as if deciding if she might just go away with him. Catherine was sure this was an oft-performed drama between the two.

“I’m sorry Mac, you’re just too much man for me,” she said in a bored monotone. “I just don’t know what I’d do with you.”

With a passable Groucho Marx imitation he replied, “Little lady, I could give you a few suggestions ...”

Mrs. Mason smacked him on the head good-naturedly. “Get up you rogue. You’re embarrassing yourself.” She looked over at Catherine and Jesse who was giggling at the spectacle, and shoved Mac out of the way as she stood and approached the two with her hand extended.

“Hi there. I’m Linda Mason, Mr. Danann’s assistant, you must be Mrs. Connley.” She shook Catherine’s hand and then bent down in front of Jessica, “and you must be Jessica.” She shook Jessica’s hand as well and stood up. “I’m glad to meet you both.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Mason,” Catherine replied at ease with the woman.

“Oh please, call me Linda.” Then see looked down at Jessica. “I hear you like trees and plants and stuff.” Jessica nodded her head. “Well, if it’s okay with your mom, how’d you like to see the trees and plants that we have on top of this very building.”

Jessica’s eyes lit up. “Oh can I Momma, please?! Pleasepleaseplease!?”

Catherine looked at Linda. “She can be quite the handful...”

“Oh please, Mrs. Connley, I’ve raised three little handfuls of my own. I think I can handle this little one.”

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she questioned why she should trust this woman, but the feeling was quickly overwhelmed by another part the “knew” that Linda Mason was someone to be trusted ... even with her daughter. “Okay. In that case call me Catherine, and good luck.” She shifted her gaze to her daughter and gave her the Mom Look. “Jessica, you mind what Mrs. Mason says, and don’t break anything.”

“Okay Momma. I’ll be careful.”

Linda, holding the girl’s hand, went to the elevators. Before the doors closed, she called out, “if you finish before we’re back have Mac bring you up. It’s really quite beautiful.”

“Okay, I’ll do that.” Catherine managed just before the doors closed.

Catherine turned around and was surprised to see another woman sitting at the assistant’s desk fielding phone calls.

Mac spoke up beside her with a hint of sarcasm, “Can’t leave the Inner Sanctum undefended you know.”

He ushered Catherine past the woman and through the double doors behind the desk.

Chapt. 5 - The Meeting (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 4 - Jesse (Part 3)

2005-08-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

While Catherine sat on the couch reading the papers that he’d brought, Mac sat at the small, round kitchen table happily eating the cold cereal that Catherine prepared for him. He watched as Jesse concentrated on her latest drawing.

As the picture took shape, he could see that it was a large oak tree. A garden or a park full of flowers and streams surrounded the tree, and there were several people walking around seemingly enjoying themselves. As she added more detail the tree took on an immense scale. A small stairway wound up the tree’s trunk with people walking on it almost too tiny to see.
Mac smiled to himself. This was one more indication that Jessica was more than what she appeared.

“Jessica, that’s a pretty drawing. What is it?” he asked.

She gave him a funny look, “It’s a tree silly. What does it look like to you?”

He smiled back, “I know it’s a tree, I was just wondering if it’s a specific tree. Have you seen it before?”

“Oh yes, this is the tree that my daddy and I used to play in.”

“It is?” He stood up and moved his chair closer. “Then who are those people?”

“I don’t know. Just people I guess.”

“And what is that thing?” He pointed at the staircase spiraling up the tree’s trunk.

“I guess it’s just part of the tree.”

Though she probably didn’t know it, the tree that she drew with such unerring detail was not a figment of the ten-year-old’s imagination or even a dim memory. It was a real tree in a real place. A place that Mac was certain the girl could never have been. There was only one more test that would confirm his theory.

He stood up and called into the living room, “I need to get something from my room. I’ll be right back.”

Jesse wasn’t paying attention and Catherine absently waved from the living room still immersed in the documents.

The front door hadn’t even closed completely before Mac was coming back into the room holding a little clay pot in his hand.

He sat down at the table and, placing the little pot in center of the table, said, “Jesse, I was wondering if you could help me.”

The little girl looked up from the nearly completed drawing.

“Ah ... sure. I guess. What do you need my help for?”

“Well, I have this little plant.” He pushed the pot closer so Jesse could see it better. It held an old brown twig of a plant. If it wasn’t dead, it was close to it. He continued, “I think it might be sick, but I just can’t seem to make it better. Do you know what I should do?”

She looked puzzled for a second, and reached out with both hands and took the pot, cradling it in her lap out of Mac’s view.

She concentrated very hard and soon her little tongue started poking out as she concentrated even more. A green glow rose out of her lap casting deep shadows on her face. Then as quickly as it appeared it was gone. She put the plant back on the table, but her head was still down, looking into her lap.

When she finally looked up, there were tears running down her face. “I’m sorry, Mister Blythe. I couldn’t save her. She was too sick. All she wanted was to save her babies. So I helped.” Jesse’s face brightened a little. “I could help the babies.”

Mac was perplexed, “Babies?” He pulled the clay pot towards him and saw six tiny but healthy little sprouts surrounding the now completely desiccated adult plant.

“You’ve done very well. I’ll make sure these get the proper attention so they can grow big and strong.” It was rare for him to be surprised by anything, and he welcomed the sensation.

Jesse was happy with his approval although her eyes still held some of the sadness. However, Mac wasn’t sure the sadness hadn’t already been there.

With senses honed by motherhood Catherine spoke up from the front room, “Is everything all right in there?”

Jesse spoke up, “I was just helping Mister Blythe with one of his plants. Do you want to see?”
“Maybe later, honey,” Catherine said absently, returning to her reading.

Jesse started working on the drawing again.

Mac looked over at Catherine and was wondering how well she was absorbing the information on the pages she read.
Chapt. 5 - The Meeting (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 4 - Jesse (Part 2)

2005-08-16T21:10:00.000-07:00

The telephone rang as she poured her second cup of coffee.
“Hello?” she answered.

“Mrs. Connley, this is Mac, I was going to order up some breakfast. There’s an excellent bakery across the street that makes a great popover. Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, Mac, I don’t usually eat breakfast and Jesse’s just sitting down to some cereal. I think we’re all right. If you want I could make something for you ...”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose ...”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition. It’d get my mind off things for a while.”

Mac thought for a second, “Well, I do have some papers here that Bob wanted you to see before your meeting ...”

“Well, there you go.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Catherine heard him hang up the phone, and just as she hung up herself there was a knock at the door.

Chuckling to herself she called to the door, “Come on in, Mac.”

After a couple of seconds there was another knock at the door, and she called out the invitation again but a little louder this time.

Still nothing. Then the phone rang and she answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Connley.” It was Mac. “You’ll need to open the door.”

Holding the cordless phone she headed for the door.

Mac continued, “I don’t have a working key anymore. Regardless though always remember to ... “

She opened the door to see him talking into a cell phone. He smiled as they looked at one another with the phones in their hands. He continued, “... check through the peephole before opening the door to anyone.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mac, but there’s someone at the door. I’m looking through the peephole now.” She stared right at him daring him to play along.

“Well, ma’am, just make sure you don’t open the door to any disreputable characters.”

She stood there for a moment, obviously sizing Mac up, her eyes moving from his head to his toes and back again. “I don’t think you have to worry, he looks harmless enough to me. I think I’ll let him in.”

“Well, if you say so, but be careful, the harmless looking ones have a way of surprising you.” He hung up the cell and gave Catherine a sly look, but he stayed where he was.

She looked at him for a moment trying to figure him out. Finally, she hung up the phone and walked back to the kitchen talking over her shoulder, “Get in here.”

Mac walked through the doorway, “Yes, ma’am.” He was halfway to the kitchen when the doors closed silently behind him locking automatically.

Chapt. 4 - Jesse (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 4 - Jesse (Part 1)

2005-08-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

Catherine awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, and after a couple seconds of disorientation, she remembered where she was. She got up and surveyed the room in the light of day.

The windows were tinted slightly to keep out the morning sun.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made such a quick recovery from jet lag, but she was glad of it. She would have to be on her toes for the coming meeting with Danann.

She got out of bed being careful not to disturb her daughter.

The suit that she wore was hopelessly wrinkled from sleeping in it all night. She chastised herself for not at least getting partially undressed before crawling into bed.

She picked up a couple of suitcases and muscled her way through the door to the bathroom/closet area.

The room was dark when she entered. Talking to herself, she said, “Where are the lights ... “ At which point the lights came on. They were dim at first, but slowly brightened. “... in ... this ... place.” she said, slowly finishing her sentence. There was a double sink vanity directly in front of her with a large wall mirror above it. Looking at herself, she was surprised to see that she didn’t look half bad for having been in the air for eleven hours then sleeping in her clothes all night.

There weren’t even any of the expected bags under her eyes that she usually had to contend with.

She turned to her right and walked into the closet. The lights turned on automatically this time.

She was surprised again. This was less a closet than a room for clothes. There was even a wall of window, a small table and a couple of over stuffed chairs. Not only that, there were clothes hanging all around her and shoes lined up on the floor. Every possible style was represented from jeans and t-shirts to a number of formal dressing gowns each worth, in her estimation, several thousand pounds. A quick examination showed them to still have the tags on them. They were also in her size.With more than a little disdain, she shoved aside one group of clothes and began unpacking her own belongings.

Chapt. 4 - Jesse (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 3 - Arrival (Part 2)

2005-08-01T21:30:00.000-07:00

“Nice isn’t it,” Danann responded.

The room was on the corner of the building. From this vantage point they could see both towers of the Golden Gate Bridge poking up over a hill and Alcatraz through the north-facing windows. She followed the sweep of the bay as it wrapped around the city, all the way to the Bay Bridge framed perfectly in the last east-facing window.
“All of the rooms have a control panel similar to the first one I showed you. The master bath and closets are through those doors there.” He pointed to the left.

“That’s about it. Do you have any questions?”

As Catherine ripped her gaze away from the view, she saw that all of her luggage was stacked neatly in the corner of the room.

“How did our luggage get here so quickly?”

“You’ll find Mrs. Connely, that the Bay Area’s freeways are not the fastest way to get from point A to point B.”

She reoriented on Danann again. She found it hard to concentrate on him without being distracted by something. It was like her attention couldn’t stick to him, but she found if she didn’t look directly at him the effect was reduced somewhat.

“Mr. Danann, you seem to have provided us with everything we could possibly need. It seems that we would never have to leave.” She paused, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. “Are we free to leave, Mr. Danann?”

He was startled by her question. “You know you’re right. I almost forgot.” With a flourish he produced a keycard like the one Mac used. “This will allow you to come and go as you please. Just make sure that you don’t venture out without letting Mac or one of the security personnel know. This is for your protection. Walking around in the city can sometimes be dangerous.

“Also, when you return, make sure you take the green elevator as it is the only one that will stop at these rooms. All you have to do is put the card in the slot and press fourteen. If you don’t put your card in ...”

Finishing Danann’s sentence she said, “You get an under construction message.” She glanced at Mac with a sly smile. “Mr. Blythe was kind enough to demonstrate that on the way up.”

Danann gave Mac an appraising look. Mac shrugged in return.

“I’m sure that he did.” Danann glanced at his watch. “Anyway, if that’s all the questions that you have this evening, I have a meeting that I must attend. If you need anything else, Mac can help you.” He captured her gaze, “In the meantime, get some rest. I’m sure you’re very tired from your flight. I will call on you tomorrow at ten, and we can discuss the next steps we need to take in ...” He glanced briefly at Jesse who at the time was pressing her forehead against the windows trying to look down the side of the building and then turned back to Catherine with a questioning look. Catherine shook her head and Danann continued, “... in our work here.”

He walked briskly out of the room with Mac in tow. They had a few words in the living room, and he left. Mac returned shortly to find Catherine a bit dazed.

“If you need anything, I’ll be staying in the room just on the other side of this wall,” he said, pointing towards the bathroom. “All you have to do is pick up the phone and press ‘1’. Otherwise, you can press ‘0’ and the operator will direct your call. Will there be anything else then?”

Catherine groggily shook her head. “All of a sudden I feel really tired.” She looked around and saw that Jessica had come away from the window and already curled up on the bed.

“Well, goodnight then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll just let myself out.” And he did.

She didn’t have the energy to send the girl to her own room. All she needed was a couple of minutes rest before she unpacked.

Barely making it to the bed, Catherine collapsed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapt. 4 - Jesse (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 3 - Arrival (Part 1)

2005-07-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

“Ma’am, would you like any more refreshments before we land?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

Catherine enjoyed riding in first class, the seats were huge and the food excellent. She closed her eyes for one final bit of rest before landing.

The flight attendant’s voice came on the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelt and return your seats and tray tables to their upright position.”

“Momma what’s that?” Jesse tugged on her sleeve.

The flight attendant continued her spiel, “As we swing around for our final approach into San Francisco International Airport, the flight attendants will make one final round through the cabin to collect ... OH MY GOD!”

Catherine looked out the window at what Jesse pointed at and saw a streak of light approaching the plane though the clouds. It hit the engine and exploded. The flames raced towards her window and then a secondary explosion rocked the aircraft as the fuel tanks ignited.

She was violently yanked forward and then pushed back into her seat as the plane plummeted to the ground. She reached over to grab Jesse’s hand, but encountered only twisted steel. Her daughter was gone and she was falling. As she closed her eyes, screaming her daughter’s name, another voice intruded.

“Ma’am. Excuse me, ma’am?” She felt something shake her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see the flight attendant standing there with a pile of blankets and pillows in her arms.

“Ma’am, we’re about to land. You’ll need to raise your seat up.”

Catherine looked around still a little frantic. Everything was as it should be. She heard a roaring noise from the back of the plane.

“What was that?!” She twisted around trying to see to the rear of the plane.

“Ma’am, the captain has just lowered the flaps ... Are you feeling alright?”

Relieved, Catherine nodded her head “Yes. Yes, thank you.”

She wiped the sweat from her face and turned to look at her daughter seated next to her.

Jesse was staring out the window. “Look, Momma, look!”

Not entirely sure she wanted to, Catherine looked out the window and saw downtown San Francisco lit up for the night. It was quite breathtaking. “That’s very pretty honey. Now why don’t you sit back and tighten your seatbelt. We’re about to land.”

“Okay.”

They landed without incident, although Catherine thought that the noises were a little louder, a little more grating than usual. She was never more relieved to be on the ground.

As they walked out of the gangway, she saw a red and gold baseball cap over the crowd coming her way. When he finally broke through, she recognized the man as the same one who delivered the letter back in Oxford.

He approach them holding out his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Connley, Jessica. I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced. My name is ...”

“Macabe Blythe,” she finished for him as she shook his hand.

Without skipping a beat he leaned down and extended his hand to Jesse. “I actually prefer Mac ... sometime even Big Mac,” he said with a wink. Jesse took his hand and giggled.

“Here let me take those bags for you. The limo is waiting.” He led them away from the rest of the passengers through a door mark “Authorized Personnel Only”. Looking over his shoulder he said, “The rest of your luggage will be brought directly to your rooms.”

They went through another door and came out on the tarmac behind the terminal. As Mac promised, a black limousine was waiting with the engine running.

The chauffeur took the bags from Mac while another man held the door open for them. Mac motioned Catherine and Jesse into the car and climbed in behind them. The door closed and within seconds the car accelerated away from the terminal building and through a gate to an access road out of the airport. In a few minutes, they were on a freeway and heading into the city.

Mac played the tour guide pointing out the sights as they passed them, much to the enjoyment of Jesse, but Catherine was hardly listening.

Within only a few minutes they entered the city proper and soon turned into an underground parking garage. The car stopped near a bank of elevators, and the group exited. Mac grabbed the luggage and ushered his two charges into an elevator.

He pushed a button and a mechanical voice came over the speaker. “We’re sorry. That floor is under construction. Please select again.”

“Oops. Forgot,” he said. Mac searched his pockets and finally came up with a card, which he inserted into the slot below the floor buttons. Catherine watched him press number fourteen then remove the card. The elevator began to climb with a mechanical “Thank you”.

The lift came to a stop with the usual “ding” and the door opened onto room with two identical unmarked doors to the left and right and a set of double door straight ahead all with keycard activated locks.

Mac exited the car first and motioned toward the double doors. “Here we are ... Home sweet home.”

He walked to the double doors and slid his card through the slot. There was an audible click, and he opened both doors revealing a formal entryway tiled in white marble.

As they passed through the doorway, a man appeared at the other end of the short hall, “Please come in and make yourselves at home. I’m Bob Danann.”

Mac set their bags down and closed the door. After a second or two Catherine heard the mechanical lock engage. She was starting to feel a little trapped.

Danann spoke up apparently seeing her concern. “The locks are for your security. They will disengage as soon as you turn the handle.” To demonstrate, Mac turned the handle and the door opened.

“Please come in, let me show you around.”

As Catherine and Jessica entered the living room they were treated with a view like none other.

Danann began his tour. “We’re on the forty-third floor of the Danann International office building. The next floor up is the penthouse where my family and I stay on occasion. This apartment is set aside for visiting guests and you are welcome to use it for as long as you wish. If you look out of the windows here, you can see the Bay Bridge and Treasure Island.”

He walked over to a panel on the wall. It lit up as he touched it. “From here you can control the environmental settings for the entire apartment including heating, cooling, lighting, and the windows.” He slid his finger across the panel, and the windows turned black. He made another adjustment and they were transparent again. “The controls are self explanatory, but there’s a help button if you need it.”

He walked across the room into the kitchen. “The kitchen has all of the normal equipment if you feel like preparing any meals.” He opened the refrigerator. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. However, if you need anything else, simply make an entry on the fridge’s control panel, and it will be delivered within the hour, day or night. Also, all of the items here are inventoried automatically, and if they’re used, will be replaced with the next morning’s delivery.”

Under her breath Catherine said, “Gee, does it cook for me too?” Jesse heard her and started to giggle. She looked at Mac and saw his eyes were bright with mirth. If it weren’t for his silence, she’d swear he was laughing at her joke as well.

Danann paused his tour as he thought for a couple of seconds, mentally checking things off a list. “I think that about covers the kitchen. That leaves the bedrooms and bathrooms.”

He led them down a hallway, opening a door on the left as he went by. “That’s the bathroom. I don’t think I need to explain what to do in there.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“There are two smaller bedrooms on the right,“ he said, opening the doors as the group passed. “And the master suite is at the end of the hall.” He dramatically opened the double doors leading to the master suite.

“Oh my God!” was all that Catherine could say.
Chapt. 3 - Arrival (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 2 - Corroboration (Part 2)

2005-07-18T21:20:00.005-07:00

They arrived at the pub just before noon. The sign above the door read “The Tipping Stein” with a picture of a large mug spilling foamy ale. They entered the doorway and paused a moment to let their eyes get used to the dim interior.

“Ah, Ms. Connley ... and little Jesse ...”

The voice came from the rear of the pub. Catherine could just barely make out Marcus in the shadows. He continued his greeting, “You’ve arrived right on time. Let’s go up to the office. I’ll have Billy bring lunch up to us.”

He nodded to the barkeep and led them through a door and up a narrow flight of stairs. At the top was a hallway with several doors leading to different offices. They followed Marcus to the end of the hallway where he opened a door and beckoned them into the room beyond.

The room was small with two doors leading to the left and right. There was a desk in the middle facing the door, and behind the desk, Jaime, Marcus’ assistant, sat doing some paperwork. She looked up and smiled, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Connley, can I get anything for you or Jessica?“

“No thanks, I think...”

“Momma, can I go play with Reggie! Please!” Jessica interrupted, unable to hold it in any longer.

“If it’s okay with Mr. O’Donovan.” She gave a questioning look to the investigator who was just closing the door.

“Sure, he’s getting restless anyway.”

Before the words were out of his mouth, Jesse bound toward the door on the left.

Catherine quickly called after the girl, “Jesse! What do you say?!”

She was already through the door when the words “Thank you!” drifted back to the adults. Then there was a cacophony of girly giggles and barking coming from the other room.

Catherine shook her head. “I think the only reason she wants to come here is to play with that dog.”

Marcus rifled through some envelopes picking out all of the pink ones, “Believe me, Reginald seems a much happier dog while she’s here.” He gave the pink ‘Payment Due’ mail to Jaime who gave him a dirty look in return and held on to the rest.

The phone rang loudly making Catherine jump a little. “You need to relax”, she thought to herself as she took a deep breath.

Before she picked up the receiver, Jaime flicked a switch and loud office noises emanated from a pair of speakers on her desk. “O’Donovan Investigations. How may I direct your call? ... I’m sorry he’s in conference with a client right now, may I take a message?”

Marcus motioned to the door on the right, “Why don’t we go into my office where we can talk.”

Catherine heard Jaime hang up the phone and turn off the noise. “You know, that recording’s much more convincing than your old one. When you called this morning, I was almost convinced that you had an actual staff, and I know better ...“

Marcus closed the door behind them and motioned for her to sit. He waited for Catherine to be seated before he did likewise.

“I’m glad you approve, especially since it was your idea in the first place.” They chuckled together for a moment or two.

“Anyway, let’s get down to business. Did you bring the letter and photograph with you?”

She nodded and handed them over. He took a seemingly identical set out of a desk drawer and set both sets on the desk.

“Good. Good. They both say the same things and the photos are also duplicates. Parts of your letter seem a bit faded, but that’s consistent with how long it’s been exposed to the air.

"I’ve done some discrete checking on our large friend with the unruly hair. His name is Macabe Blythe, and he does in fact work for Danann International, which is the source of these letters. He also provided me with the name that your husband has been living under for the last year. I pulled some records and even called a colleague in San Francisco to confirm the timing, and everything checks out.

“I also did a quick backgrounder on the corporation itself and came up with some very interesting information. It seems that the Danann family has been in one business or another for the last two hundred years. At least that’s as far back as I could track. Over that time they’ve built up a reputation for generosity and fair dealing. There were a few blurry parts to the history, but nothing you wouldn’t find in any other successful corporation.

“As facts go, they’re pretty solid. As it stands, I can’t see any reason for, or evidence, of deception on their part. There is nothing here to cause any suspicion ... which, naturally, makes me especially suspicious.” He stopped as if thinking over the data one more time.

Catherine watched him think for a second, “So what do you think I should do?”
He thought a little more. “Well, that’s a good question. Their offer seems genuine, and judging by the money they paid me and the upgrade of your plane tickets, they are certainly making it worth your while.”

He shifted in his seat, thinking for a moment. “I’d say let’s do it, but we’ll add a few rules of our own. You should be fairly safe as long as you’re careful. I suggest daily calls here to the office to confirm your whereabouts until you feel comfortable with them. They’ve made enough noise that it’s unlikely anything will happen to you without raising a whole lot of attention that they probably don’t want. Besides it’s not like they’d blow up the plane or something ...”

Chapt. 3 - Arrival (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 2 - Corroboration (Part 1)

2005-07-14T20:50:00.000-07:00

She was just getting breakfast on the table when the phone rang.

As she picked up the phone, she called into the next room, “Jesse, get in here. Breakfast is on the table”, and then into the telephone, “Hello.”

“Hello, Ms. Connley? This is Marcus O’Donovan…”

“Marcus! I was going to call you after breakfast.” She smiled as she heard the usual busy office noises in the background. “Sounds like a busy day today ... and on a Saturday even.”

“You know me ... We never sleep here at O’Donovan Investigations.” He paused for a second, “The reason I’m calling is that I just had a very odd visit by a large American with a hat and knapsack. Does this ring any bells with you?"

“Why yes it does. What did he have to say?”

“Well, he provided quite a bit of interesting information along with a hefty retainer. I was wondering if we could get together around lunchtime to discuss it? If it’s convenient for you, we could meet in the pub downstairs from my office.”

“That would be fine, Marcus, but what do you think of all this?”

“I’d rather not discuss it on the phone, but I should have more information at lunch.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Connley” and he rang off.

Catherine gave the phone a puzzled look and hung up.

Turning around, she saw that Jesse was still not at the table. She stepped out to the living room. “Jesse, didn’t you hear me? I said that breakfast was ... “.

Stepping out of the kitchen, she saw her daughter kneeling in front of the small table near the front door. Jesse was holding the small potted plant in her left hand and was gently stroking the leaves with the other. “... ready,” she said, finally completing her sentence.

Jesse put the plant down and stood. “I’m coming,” she said and happily skipped into the kitchen.

Catherine looked at the plant. It seemed ... healthier somehow. She shook her head dismissing the thought and went back to finish breakfast.
Chapt. 2 - Corroboration (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 1 - The Letter (Part 3)

2005-07-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

Catherine changed into her Oxford U. sweats and relaxed on the couch, unwinding from the long day ... actually the long year. She paged through a scrapbook that sat on her lap while drinking a well-deserved glass of wine.

The pages of the book were creased and worn from many such sessions. There were photographs, newspaper clippings, and several awards chronicling Conner’s rise through the ranks of Scotland Yard’s Anti-Terrorist Unit.

When he’d told her that he would be going undercover in Belfast’s Prison system, she was afraid for him. But his enthusiasm for the assignment and assurances that it was a simple operation somewhat quelled her anxiety.

She turned to the last pages of the book and gazed at a letter there, among the last he’d written before his disappearance. No ... whom was she kidding? ... His death.

She began to read the letters that he’d sent.

[click to enlarge]

But it didn’t end in two week or two months. A breakthrough in the case introduced some new questions that could only be answered from the inside, and since Conner was already there ...

Catherine paged through more letters. As the weeks went by they become shorter and shorter but still remained upbeat. Until the final letter, dated one year ago.

She wept as she reread it.

[click to enlarge]

The God Damned World Council, as Catherine had taken to calling them, took him the very next day. They called it a criminal cleansing ...”Out with the bad” so to speak. And no amount of pleading to the “authorities” would undo the mistake.

The letter that they sent her was a joke. It was on the last page of the scrapbook.

Dear Mrs. Connley,

Please know that we are extremely sorry for your loss. However, there can be no undoing what has been done. We must all look forward to the better world that is being created, and we all must be prepared to make sacrifices to ensure that that World comes to pass.

Your husband was a hero of the highest caliber and recognized the need to make certain sacrifices to the greater good.

In honor of his and your sacrifice, he will be posthumously knighted in a closed ceremony within the week and shall heretofore be know by the title of Sir Conner Connley. You and your family, of course, will receive all of the compensation due a member of the Royal Court. However, for security reason, his mission and knighthood must be kept secret.

Details of the ceremony will follow shortly.

Sincerely,
Sir Richard Deviroux Blumburg III, esq.
3rd Magistrate to the World Council

Needless to say Catherine wasn’t overly impressed.

She’d even funded a private investigation, but it didn’t turn up anything new. Over the year she had exhausted every resource that was available to her through the University and beyond, but always came up empty. She was ready to give up and move on.

She put down the book. Her tears were dried by her anger.

She stood to open a window, trying to cool off and knocked her briefcase to the floor from its perch on the coffee table.

She sighed at the mess and bent over to put the case back on the table. She noticed a letter on the floor. It was the letter from the strange American.

Her curiosity was piqued when she saw something that she hadn’t noticed in her office. The letter was sealed with green wax. Imbedded in the wax was the likeness of a single tall oak tree.

She broke the seal, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and read the words:

Dear Ms. Connley,

First, let me apologize for the over-dramatization that very likely accompanied the delivery of this message. My brother-in-law has something of a theatrical flare that shows up at the most inappropriate times. It does, however, somewhat underline the importance of my words.

First, if you haven’t already done so, please look at the enclosed photograph...

She pulled a photo from the envelope with the back facing her. She turned the picture over and gasped, and dropping it on the table, she sat down heavily on the sofa.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the picture. There, smiling into the camera, as if posing, was her husband. Her Conner. There was a large stone cross behind him, but beyond that, she couldn’t tell where he was ... the photo was dated the previous week.

He was alive? Alive after so many months of searching! Tears of joy began to well up in her eyes as she held the picture to her chest. Alive and ... posing? She took a closer look at the photo. He looked happy.

She glanced at a framed photo on the mantle of the fireplace. He was lifting Jesse up in the air. He had the same look on his face.

Where was he? What was he doing there? ... Who was taking the picture?

With a shaking hand she picked the letter off the floor and continued reading:

I realize this must come as something of a shock after so many months, but it is true. Your husband is alive.

She went back and read that last part again.

Your husband is alive.

... alive.

She continued.

However,

She cringed. Here it comes.

However, he is not the same man as he was when he was taken from you. Those who took him have changed him. He remembers nothing of his life with you or your daughter, Jessica. For the last year he has been living a different life and working toward the agenda of the opposition.

I do apologize for the abruptness of this news. But I have found that it’s usually better to get the bad news out of the way first.

“I’ll bet.” She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

But fear not, there is still hope. We (meaning my organization) have the resources to retrieve him, and with your help and more than a little luck, we can recover his memory, and bring him back to you.

Your assistance is vital to this undertaking.

It is fortuitous that your vacation will bring you to San Francisco, because that is exactly where we are to begin.

“How did he know about our vacation?” Her confusion was quickly put aside as curiosity drove her onward.

We have taken the liberty of upgrading your airline tickets to first class. Simply confirm the reservations and we will move forward. Also, enclosed you will find a cashier’s check that should cover any expenses that your preparations may incur.

I ask nothing of you except your participation in your husband’s recovery. However, there is an additional proposal that I wish to present to you but not until he is fully recovered, if he can be. Please understand that you are under no obligation whatsoever. However, I hope that my actions and those of our group will speak in our behalf.

I understand that you will want to confirm as much of this information as possible. I would expect nothing less. Please feel free to contact your investigator for any confirmation that you require. At his request, my contacts in London will present any required documentation. However, for security reasons certain portions of this message will become illegible within twenty-four hours after it is exposed.

I look forward to making your acquaintance,

Robert James Danann, President and CEO
Danann International

Chapt. 2 - Corroboration (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 1 - The Letter (Part 2)

2005-07-07T16:51:00.003-07:00

Catherine arrived at her flat at nearly midnight having waded through all of the remaining papers. She quietly let herself in and walked to the living room where the tele was on with the volume turned down. A young woman sat on the sofa with a little girl in pajamas curled up next to her snoring quietly. Catherine breathed a deep sigh, dropped her briefcase on the carpet and placed the sick looking vine on a nearby table.

“She wanted to stay up to see her mum when she got home”, whispered the sitter.

“Thanks for staying late. I was able to finish the papers so now Jessica and I can have the whole weekend to ourselves to pack.”

“That’s alright. She’s a dear. No trouble at all.” The young woman gathered her books and bag preparing to leave for the night.

“Tammy, I really appreciate all your help this last year. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I’m glad I could help, Mrs. Connley. I know it’s been a tough year for both of you.”

Catherine opened the door, smiling. “You know I’m sure that I’ll need some help next term. Do you think you’d be up for it?”

“I’d be happy to. Just give me a call when you get back.” She started down the hallway talking over her shoulder. “I hope you two have a great holiday! Bye now.”

Catherine closed the door and leaned her forehead against it exhausted. She stayed that way for a few heartbeats.

“Momma?” said a tired little voice behind her.

She walked over to the girl and with a grunt lifted her up. “Now Jesse, ten year old little girls should be in bed, asleep at this time of night ... Actually, so should big girls like your mum.”

“But I wanted to show you my picture. I drew it today.”

“Well, okay. Then it’s right to bed with you.”

Catherine put the child down and ushered her to her room. Jessica got into the bed, and her mother pulled up the covers.

“It’s over there on the table.” Jessica said, pointing.

Catherine took the picture from the table and sat down on the bed next to her daughter and examined it.

“This is beautiful.” And it was. Jessica was getting better and better with every piece. She could use almost any medium with a level of skill that surpassed many adults.

Catherine could see that this was a special drawing, and she knew exactly what it depicted. It was their last outing as a family before the bottom fell out of their lives.

“See that?” Jessica pointed at a large, detailed oak tree in the center of the drawing surrounded by a meadow with high peaked mountains in the background. “That’s the big tree that daddy and I climbed. Remember?”

“Yes, Jesse, I remember.” She was looking at the man standing under the tree, rendered with such surprising detail. Her Conner. He was a fine man. A loving husband and father ... At least before all that IRA business.

As the memories and the bitterness welled up inside her, she struggled to keep a reign in her emotions.

“Are you okay Momma?”

“I’m fine dear. This is a very good drawing. Why don’t I put it on the wall with the others?” She stood up and started walking toward the opposite wall that was covered with all manner of art on every subject, but mostly trees and meadows.

“No. Not yet. Could you just leave it here on the night stand?”

“Okay.” Jesse’s mother returned to the nightstand and propped the drawing up against the lamp.

“Now, it’s time for you to go to sleep young lady.” She turned out the light and leaned over and kissed Jessica on the forehead.

She moved out of the bedroom and began to close the door and said, “Sleep tight.”

Jesse called out from under the covers, “Keep it cracked.”

“How’s that”, she said making a small adjustment.

“A little more ... more ... right there. G’night.”

“Night li’l one.”
Chapt. 1 - The Letter (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Chapter 1 - The Letter (Part 1)

2005-07-06T09:28:00.008-07:00

Even for a Friday the halls at Wadham College in Oxford were empty. Not only had most of the teachers left for the weekend, but the spring term had just ended and most of the students had left for the summer break. However, midway down one particular corridor, a dim wash of yellow light shown on the newly polished floor as it escaped through an open doorway.

Catherine sat at her desk in the room making her way through a pile of under-thought, over written freshman final essays. Her desk lamp was the only light source in an otherwise dark room.

She looked up briefly from a page seemingly covered with red ink and rubbed her eyes ... it was going to be a late night. Her gaze passed briefly over a potted vine on her desk. The poor thing was wilted and sad from lack of water, lack of sunlight, lack of attention ... from just plain lack. Frowning, she looked around and noticed an old soda cup that had some water in it where the ice had melted. She grabbed it and poured the water on the plant knowing that it was too little too late.

Looking down again at the paper, she shook her head, wrote what she thought was a generous grade at the top of the page, and put it aside on top of a pile of already graded papers.

As she surveyed the even higher pile of un-graded essays, she smiled slightly when her gaze passed over a framed picture sitting on the corner of her desk. In the picture the smiling little redheaded girl blew bubbles in a park. There was a small, homemade card taped to the frame. She reached over and gently opened the card and mouthed the words as she read them. “Happy Mother’s Day. Love Jessica”.

“Excuse me. Professor Connley?” She jumped slightly, startled at the sound of a deep male voice.

Angry that someone could sneak up on her like that, she was more abrupt than usual. “Student conference hours are from one to three. Please come back then.”

Squinting past her desk lamp, she could only see a shadow in the doorway. He was very tall and very broad. His hair stuck out from under a baseball cap. She shook her head … an American. Something seemed familiar about him though, but as she tried to hold on to the thought, it skittered away, back to wherever it came from.

“What do you want? You’re not a one of my students.” She surreptitiously reached under her desk and grasped the handgun that was mounted there with her right hand.

“I apologize for intruding Ms. Connley, but I have an urgent message that I must deliver directly into your hand.”

He pulled a small backpack off his back and put his hand inside, rooting around for something. Her eyes narrowed at his seemingly innocent actions, and her finger tightened slightly on the trigger.

“I’m sorry ... I can’t seem to ...” Still rummaging and a little embarrassed, he placed the sack on the floor, knelt down on one knee, and used both hands.

“Ah. Here it is.” He straightened up and pulled something from his bag. He came forward into the light and held a standard, business-sized envelope over her desk waiting for her to take it. She looked into his face as it caught the light from her desk lamp and she was captured by his eyes ... his incredibly blue eyes. She felt suddenly warm and safe. Then, just as suddenly, the feeling was gone as the man moved his head back into the shadows.

The letter was only slightly rumpled with a corner or two bent. She slowly took the letter with her free hand and studied it closely, holding it up to the light. He took a step back and picked his pack up off the floor.

“Please read the message as soon as possible. The timing is critical.”

“Timing?” She eyed him and the letter suspiciously.

“Everything is explained. I must be going now.” The man turned to leave her office.

He paused in the doorway. “And Ms. Connley?” he said without turning.

“Yes.”

Turning his head slightly, he said, “You forgot to release the safety", and dissappeared into the shadows.

Catherine jumped up and reached the door in two steps. She looked in both directions and saw only the darkened corridor. The man was gone. The door at the end was just swinging closed.

She turned back into her office shaking her head. When she passed by the door, she briefly focused on the lettering on the glass:

Professor Fellow Catherine Lochbairn-Connley
International Law and Society

“I really need to have that changed”, she noted softly to herself as she close the door and walked back to her desk.

When she sat down she looked at the letter and again shook her head. She absently tossed the letter into her briefcase, and went back to slashing the essays with her red pen.

Chapt. 1 - The Letter (Part 2)

Book I: The Others - Prelude (part 4)

2005-06-14T19:19:00.000-07:00

The next afternoon the new family settled into their apartment. Catherine and Conner had just put the baby down and were coaxing her to sleep when his phone vibrated on his hip.

Conner quickly stepped out of the room to answer it. Catherine only heard a few hushed words as she was focused on the baby and not paying attention to anything else.

A few minutes later he came back in and slowly walked toward the crib. Catherine looked up and was startled by the look on his face. “Honey, what wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, more than a little afraid.

The color had drained from his face. He had an expression of fear, wonder, and confusion all rolled into one.

“That was the commander.” He spoke haltingly still moving in slow steps toward the crib. “There was a raid on an apartment on the northeast side of Regent’s Parc. The place was booby-trapped. All of our men in the building were killed, and most of the rest were injured by the blast.”

He reached the crib and stared down at the baby. She was looking back at him, still sucking on his badge.

“Oh my God!” Catherine sat down on a nearby chair, distraught at the news. These were likely men and women that she’d known. Many of them had attended their wedding.

“That’s not even the good part” replied Conner still in a daze.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I’d been at work today like normal ...” He reached down toward the baby and grasped the black leather badge. He pulled on it, and the baby released it without any fuss. “... I would have lead the raid and would very likely have been killed.”

Both Conner and Catherine stared at the baby in silence as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Chapt. 1 - The Letter (Part 1)

Book I: The Others - Prelude (part 3)

2005-06-12T14:16:00.001-07:00

The pendant, its chain slightly off center on her chest, stood out starkly on the red-haired woman’s slightly flushed skin. A soft image of the small, silver tree reflected from the pendant onto the forehead of the new born baby that was suckling at her mother’s breast.

“Catherine, she’s beautiful. Just like her mother,” said a man as he leaned over the bed and kissed his wife tenderly on the lips. As he went to stand, the baby girl, distracted from her meal, reached up and grabbed the Metropolitan Police badge out of her father’s pocket and held it tightly.

The “SO13” was clearly visible above the chrome eight-sided star shape topped with a crown. “New Scotland Yard” was printed in a circle inside the star, and the letters “ER” were at its center. Special Operations Unit number 13 was also known as the Anti-Terrorist Branch. The name “Conner Connely” was embossed in gold below the star.

“Hey, now … if you take daddy’s badge, he can’t go back to work.” Conner tried to retrieve the badge, but the baby had a strong grip and wouldn’t relinquish it.

Catherine was amused, but also felt this to be a little odd seeing how all her parenting homework suggested that newborns couldn’t focus on much of anything let alone grip something hard enough to matter. None the less she reached in to intervene. “Let me try,” she said, grasping the wallet. “Come on honey, give daddy the badge.”

With all three of them holding the badge, it looked like some sort of strange tug-of-war. Catherine watched the baby look back and forth between the two adults with what seemed to be an anxious expression until she finally focused on her mother.

“Conner? ...” Catherine spoke softly still staring into the baby’s eyes. “Let go.”

“But ...”

“Just let go.”

Looking puzzled he released the badge, and immediately, the baby let go leaving Catherine holding the badge.

With a puzzled look she handed the badge back to Conner, but as soon as he reached for it the baby screamed ... loudly. As soon she withdrew the child calmed down.

She tried again with the same result. And again.

“Conner, try to take it from me.”

As soon as he came close, the baby screamed again. It wasn’t that she was crying or anything, she was just making herself heard ... by everyone.

“Okay. Let’s try this.” Catherine placed the badge on the bedside table. “Try again.”

But the result was same only louder.

She grabbed the badge of the table and gave it back to the baby who promptly began sucking and gnawing on the corner.

“Well. It looks like you’re not going to work today.”

Poor Conner looked at them both staring at him ... daring him to deny the obvious. Defeated he grabbed his phone and dialed. “Just what I need, a house full of stubborn women.”

He spoke briefly into phone and rang off.

He looked crestfallen. “I have some bad news.” He paused as he put the phone back on his belt. “The boss said that I’ll be fired if ... “ As he raised his head, there was a twinkling in his eyes that Catherine knew and loved, “... if I come back to work in less than two weeks.”

“Yay!” Catherine was happy, but her eyes started to droop as she suddenly became very tired. “I think I’m going to take a nap now.” She held the baby up toward Conner. “Why don’t you hold her for a bit?”

Conner took the child in his arms and as a token attempt tried to retrieve the badge. He got a baby-scowl and no badge for his effort.

Prelude (Part 4)

Book I: The Others - Prelude (part 2)

2005-06-10T20:23:00.001-07:00

As the doctor and two nurses rushed to Room 12, they saw that the glass door to the room was wide open.

Quickly, the doctor rushed to the opposite wall, broke through the protective glass with his elbow and punched the recessed button. Immediately more, louder alarms sounded and the doors into the ward locked and sealed.

From a case next to the alarm button, one of the nurses pulled loaded syringes for each of the three people in the room, and she injected herself before proceeding to the other two.

The doctor picked up the wall phone and punched some numbers.

After a few seconds he spoke. “This is Doctor Walter Simons. We’ve had a containment breach in Terminal Isolation ... Yes, the antidote has been administered.” After listening for a couple seconds, he hung up.

Talking over the alarms, he spoke to the others. “They’ve closed off the node, and it looks like only one other person was there.” The alarms finally stopped and all of them visibly relaxed. Speaking softly, he continued. “They’re sweeping the node just to make sure. It’ll only take a few min…”

“Doctor!”

The male nurse had entered the chamber to examine the girl. He held her wrist, taking her pulse.

Simons entered alone. The space was already over crowded with the two men and all the equipment. “What is it?”

“Her pulse ... It’s stronger ... Much stronger ... and look at this.” He motioned to one of the instruments. “Just before they flat lined there was a spike across all the signals ...”

The Doctor looked closely at the girl, who seemed to have slept through the entire event.

“Ah. Here’s the problem.” He held up a hand full of wires. “She probably just pulled these loose in her sleep ... then they shorted out causing the surge.” The nurse wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t matter, because it was the doctor who would sign the incident report.

Several people came in the doors to sound the all clear as the nurse re-attached the probes.

A reflection on the floor caught his attention. He bent down and picked up a pendant of a small tree. Assuming it belonged to the girl, he placed it on the bedside table and continued his work.
Prelude (Part 3)

Book I: The Others - Prelude (part 1)

2005-06-08T21:23:00.003-07:00

Christmas Eve at St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in central London was quiet, for the most part. The rain had just slacked off after coming down hard all day. A clock on the wall in the main lobby clicked over to 11:45pm ... the graveyard shift was about to begin. Everyone who was able looked forward to leaving for the night. Some would take the next day off to celebrate Christmas with their families and busied themselves in an effort to wrap up as much as possible before they left. Others, though, would be coming back in just over eight hours, while a few of the interns wouldn’t be leaving at all and were already exhausted.

Wrapped up in their own jobs and lives, no one noticed as two men entered the busy hospital. The shorter of the two wore a tailored suit that accentuated the masculine lines of his body from his shoulders to his narrow waist. He was clearly the leader as they moved through the lobby. His companion was a full head and a half taller and proportionally wider by comparison. He was dressed casually compared to the leader wearing a slightly wrinkled black polo shirt and jeans. He had no need of fancy tailoring to show off his physique. His shoulders were so broad, he had to go through most doors sideways. He walked with a visible tension that suggested a constant readiness for whatever came his way be it an errant wheelchair from a side corridor or a pair of armed security guards. But for all that, his gentle eyes and tussled, reddish hair engendered trust in everyone he met. He absently held a red and gold baseball cap in his hand as they made their way out of the hospital’s front lobby and deeper into the maze of corridors lined with colored stripes to guide the way. They took the yellow elevator to the sixth floor, followed the green-red lighted floor stripe to Hematology/Oncology, and finally the red stripe to the Isolation ward.

They made almost no impact as they walked the halls. There was always a strange hush around them, a bubble of separation that followed their movements through the labyrinth. As they approached from around a corner or behind a door, whoever might be there suddenly felt the need to be elsewhere. It wasn’t a bad or foreboding feeling; it was just that at that moment it was vitally important that they to do something somewhere else. As it was, nobody saw the two men enter though the door marked “Terminal Isolation” that opened off of the main nurses bay for that ward.

The dimly lit room contained twelve glass chambers, all dark, except the one at the far end. A small fluorescent fixture cast cold light over the head of the bed. The rest of the enclosure was in deep shadow. The harsh light completely washed out the color of what would otherwise have been a fan of brilliant red hair beautifully spread across the white pillow. The little girl seemed to be asleep, but she was almost too still. The only indication that she lived was the incessant but comforting beep of the nearby heart monitor. The time between beeps was abnormally long.

“I can help her,” said the larger man. “I don’t think she’s going to make it through the night. If I go in now she might survive.” Although he was speaking in low tones, the emotion in his voice was evident.

His companion spoke calmly, but with authority. “That’s not why we are here. We are not in a position to interfere. We watch as we have always watched.” He paused long enough to focus his full attention on the big man. “You know this.”

“Then why did you bring me here. Just to torture me? To make me watch all of our hopes just fade away? The Great Tree forgive us ... we’re as responsible for this as anyone. So many lives ... just ... gone.” He leaned his forehead on the glass nearly weeping.

The well-dressed man placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder and spoke the same words he’d repeated so many times before. “The Great Tree holds all life in her limbs with love and tenderness. If this one must go to her now, we will not interfere. We are not responsible for the actions of those that brought her to this place. There was nothing we could do then ...” he paused, squeezing his companion’s shoulder tenderly, “... as there is nothing we can do now. Whether or not she lives through the night, her fate has been decided. We have no right to change it ... and you know it.”

As the well-dressed man turned to leave, he whispered, “We must leave now. The shift is changing.”

With his head still against the glass the other man whispered, “It’s not right.” As he spoke the words, he placed his palm on the glass as if trying to make contact with the sick little girl in the hospital bed. “Not right,” he repeated.

As he turned away, the tiniest voice spoke from the glass room. “Daddy is that you?”

He turned and saw the girl looking at him ... through him. Looking into her eyes, he spoke softly in his mind, “Catherine, can you hear me?”

To his surprise she answered in a barely audible whisper and for the briefest moment her eyes focus on him. “Who are you?” Her eyes were already drooping as she began slipping back into unconsciousness.

Did she sense his thoughts? Or was it luck? There was no way to tell. There was no time to tell.

He couldn’t stand it. With a tear running down his cheek he replied, “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

Another voice intruded on his thoughts. “We’ve got to leave now before they notice us!”

“I’m right behind you”, he responded in thought.

They exited the wing without incident, the well-dressed man in the lead, keeping to the shadows, but as they again passed the nurse’s station, alarms sounded, and doctors and nurses appeared from nowhere to answer the call.

“What’s the problem?” called a doctor on the run, heading through the doors to the Terminal wing.

“Doctor, we’ve got a flat line on number twelve ...” answered the nurse as he fell in step beside the physician.

The rest of the conversation was lost in the din of activity, and, as the well-dressed man turned to discover, so was his companion. “Where are you?” he called out with as much energy as he could. Silence was the only reply.

The well dressed man smiled to himself as he continued out of the building alone.

Prelude (Part 2)

Fatality	80%
Debilitation*	90%
Complete memory recovery	2%
* - refers to mental retardation, loss of motor control, and other stroke-like defects