WEDNESDAY MARCH 6, THE WHITE HOUSE - 1800 HRS

“Nowicki?”

As the three newcomers voiced their astonished cry, Gary looked over his shoulder at the startled faces of his friends and family.  He happened to be looking right at Polly when she silently mouthed the name, one eyebrow raised in question.  A tiny grin teased at the corner of her mouth as she covered her amusement by sipping at her drink.

Feigning confusion, Gary turned back to the trio still framed by the doorway.  He gave them his best ‘wide-eyed innocent’ look, pointing at his own chest with the glass of water he had miraculously kept from dropping.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.  “Were you talking to me?”

“I most certainly am!” the man in the admiral’s uniform brusquely informed him.  “Where the hell did you disappear to?  I had my people searching the personnel files throughout the entire system, trying to find you!  The only Nowicki we ever found was some guy who didn’t look a thing like you!”  He stepped in closer to Gary, giving him a conspiratorial wink.  “Was there some ‘hotspot’ they needed you in PDQ?  Was that it?” he whispered loudly.

Gary looked in confusion from the admiral to the young couple standing arm-in-arm behind the officer.  They looked equally confused, having spotted Jake coming over to see if Gary needed help.

“Is there a problem, Gary?” the young banker asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Gary shrugged.  “Um, I’m sorry, sir,” he told the senior officer.  “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.  I’m Gary Hobson, and this is my cousin.  J-Jake Evans.  Are we . . . are we supposed to’ve met somewhere before?”

“Three years ago,” the tall younger officer told him.  “In Chicago.  You, or someone who looked a lot like you,” he added with a sideways glance at Jake, “sorta recruited us to help stop a team of terrorists from blowing up a peace conference.”

“I think I remember reading about that,” Jake replied casually.  “We both live in Chicago, but I can assure you,” he added with a dry chuckle, “that neither of us is this ‘Nowhosit’ you’re talking about.”

“Nowicki,” the admiral absently corrected him, staring from one man to the other uncertainly.  “This is incredible.  The two of you . . . and Nowicki . . . This is . . . I-I don’t know what to say!”

“Why don’t we start with an introduction,” the slender young woman suggested.  She held her hand out to Gary.  “I’m Emily Van Owen.  This is my husband, Lt. Eric Van Owen.  And you’ve already met my father, Admiral Edward Harrigan.”

“P-pleased to meet you,” Gary stammered, awkwardly shifting his glass into his left hand so that he could take hers.  The fingers barely curled enough to hold the glass, but not enough to keep the water from splashing over the rim and onto her gown.  “I-I’m sorry,” he murmured, red-faced.  “Let me . . .”  He looked around for someplace to set his glass.

“No,” she smiled, taking his glass.  “Let me.  You’re injured.  What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“That’s kinda what this evening is about,” Jake chuckled, as he led the way toward the bar.  “Ol’ Cousin Gary, here, helped stop a terrorist attack on the Vice President’s train.  In the process, he had the crap beat out of him, and was shot.”

Admiral Harrigan gave Gary a speculative look.  “That first part sounds very familiar.”

“So what happened to you?” Lt. Van Owen asked, indicating Jake’s sling.

“Mistaken identity,” Jake shrugged.  He tilted his head at Gary, shooting his flustered cousin an amused glance.  “They thought I was him.”

“Really?” Emily chuckled, giving Gary an arched eyebrow look.  “Wonder how that happened?”

Gary was saved from having to respond when the headwaiter announced that everyone should take his or her seat.  The President, of course, was seated at the head of the table, Mrs. Bartlett to his right.  Next to her sat Gary, as the guest of honor.  To his right, was Lois, Bernie, then Jake.  Directly across from them were the Vice President, his wife, the admiral, and the Van Owens.  

It was an uncomfortable meal for Gary, and he found that he had little appetite for it.  The admiral kept giving him sideways looks, as if he knew Gary was lying.  Throughout the meal, the President entertained them with a barrage of historical trivia about the White House and it’s residents.  Trivia that a host of voices kept whispering derisive comments about as Gary tried to eat his soup.

It was a struggle for Gary to maintain a neutral, yet interested expression as he was bombarded with impressions from several different levels.  There were the living people who were speaking to, and around him.  There were also the visible specters who cajoled him to speak up for them, and the disembodied voices making their own opinions heard. 

“Gary?” Lois whispered.  “Are you all right, sweetie?”

With a start, Gary jerked his attention back to the living occupants of the room.  He glanced down at his plate, realizing that he had not touched his main course.  Looking around, he saw that the waiters were already removing the plates from in front of the other diners.

“I-I’m sorry,” he murmured.  “I-I guess I’m still kinda . . . Did I miss something?”

“Just the President telling everyone what a hero you are,” she whispered.  “Seriously, hon, aren’t you feeling well?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

‘If you only knew,’ Gary thought to himself.  Licking his lips nervously, he ducked his head, refusing to look at the grinning specter waving at him from behind the admiral.  He took a hurried bite of his entrée just before the waiter arrived to take his plate.

“Is something wrong with your sirloin tips, sir?” the servant asked solicitously.  “You’ve hardly touched them.”

“N-no,” Gary assured him.  “It’s . . . it’s great.  I’m just . . . just not very hungry, I guess.  Thank you,” he murmured as the plate was removed. 

“You’re not looking very well, Gary,” Mrs. Bartlett murmured.  “Do you need to lie down?”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Gary replied, too softly to be heard by anyone else but the two women to either side of him.  “Honestly.  I’m just not used to all the attention, I guess.  I-I’m really a-a low key kinda guy.”

“As soon as this shindig is over,” the First Lady mumbled, “I want to you to go back to your room and get in bed.  Understand?”

“Th-that’s not necessary,” Gary stammered hurriedly.  That would royally mess up his plans!  “I’m fine!  Really.  It’s just . . .”

“This place is rocking!” Claire chuckled from halfway down the table.  “I’ve never seen so many disembodied auras in one place!  It’s incredible!”  She was looking around in utter amazement.  “Gary, you must be an ethereal magnet!  There’s over a dozen . . .”  She broke off as she caught sight of Gary’s pained expression.

“Bust-ed,” the First Lady murmured softly, without raising her head or moving her lips.  “So much for ‘low key.’”

************

Gary eased down on Jake’s bed with a loud sigh.  Tossing the embossed leather folder onto the bed, he reached up with his good hand to loosen his tie. 

“I don’t even remember accepting that thing,” he murmured.  “Hell, I don’t remember most of the dinner.”  He looked over to where his cousin was carefully removing his sling.  “Did I make a fool of myself?”

“Not at all, Gary,” the banker chuckled as he tossed the sling on the back of a chair.  “You just seemed a little . . . tired.  Kind of, you know, out of it.  Are you sure you shouldn’t be in bed?”

“Jake,” Gary sighed, “I’ve hardly been out of that bed in over a week!  I’m really not in that big of a hurry to crawl back in.”  He looked up at Jake with a tired smile.  “Didn’t Mom look great in that gown?  She was having a ball tonight.”

“So was your dad,” Jake nodded.  He eased his injured arm out of the tuxedo jacket, hanging the garment over the back of the same chair.  He continued to undress as he spoke.  “You know, this trip is going to be the highlight of their ‘golden years.’  They’ll be the talk of the neighborhood when they start showing off pictures of them and the President, the First Lady, the Vice President, etcetera, etcetera, and so on.”  He carefully arranged the tuxedo on its hanger before placing it in the wardrobe.  Wearing only his t-shirt and boxers, Jake turned to face his cousin.  “Look, why don’t you stretch out for a minute while I take a quick shower.  We can talk and I’ll catch you up on what you missed at dinner, tonight.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Gary chuckled.  “But take your time.  You have to be careful to keep those stitches dry.”  He pointed at the bandage covering Jake’s wound.  “Don’t forget to cover that.”

“Right,” the banker sighed.  He had forgotten.  The arm had hardly bothered him the entire night.  It seemed silly, to him, to make such a fuss over what, in light of Gary’s injuries, amounted to a scratch.  Still, if he let it get infected, Joanie would have a fit.  “Thanks for the reminder.”  He pulled out a role of plastic wrap Polly had given him and, with Gary’s awkward assistance and a few pieces of tape, soon had a water-tight cover in place.  “I feel like a leftover rib roast,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  “Be out in a few minutes.”

The moment the shower started, Gary went into action.  Biting his lip, he quickly stripped off the tuxedo, all but the pants, and slipped into one of Jake’s pullover shirts and a sports coat.  He knew Jake’s idea of a ‘quick’ shower was at least twenty minutes.  That should give him a decent head start.  It had taken him almost ten, however, just to make the change with only one hand, cutting his lead in half.  By the time he was ready, his hair and brow were soaked with perspiration.  Grabbing Jake’s security pass off the nightstand, he eased out the door, closing it quietly behind him. 

Gary had made sure, before the dinner, to have everything he needed tucked into the various pockets of his tux.  It had been the matter of only a moment to transfer the large wad of cash from one jacket to another, plus his watch and wallet.  Clamping Jake’s pass into the jacket’s lapel, he stuck his left hand into the pocket, for support.  He had no intention of standing out in a crowd by wearing that sling.

Careful not to be seen by his parents or any of his friends, Gary took a slightly circuitous route to the front entrance.  A pretty brunette at the security desk took Jake’s pass and called a cab for him.  Smiling, she told him it would be there within twenty minutes.

“B-but I have to get to the airport now!” Gary insisted.  He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to call a cab earlier.  In all fairness, he really hadn’t been alone long enough to make the call.  Plus he had been bombarded by that ghostly tirade all through dinner.  It was a wonder that he even had sense enough to have gotten this far!  “Please?” he begged the young intern.  “I need to catch the red-eye back to Chicago, and with all these new security measures, I have to be there at least a couple of hours before it takes off!”   He gave her his most pleading, puppy-dog-eyed look.  “Isn’t there some way you can help me?”

The young woman gave him a helpless little smile as she shrugged and shook her head.  Secretly, she was hoping the taxi would have a flat.  Anything to keep this handsome specimen pacing anxiously within her sight!

“You could share our limo,” a familiar voice offered. 

Hesitantly, Gary turned to find Emily Van Owen smiling at him, her arm linked with that of her husband’s.

“We were just on our way back to the townhouse,” the lieutenant shrugged.  “It’s no problem to make a detour.”

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” Gary stammered uncertainly.  “C-could I?  I-I mean, it’s miles out of your way.”

“It’s no problem,” Emily assured him.  She took him gently by the left arm, pretending not to notice when he stifled a wince, and steered him down the steps.  Much to the obvious disappointment of the young intern.  “Besides, I think that young woman was stalling you,” she giggled.  “She was enjoying the view way too much to let you get away in a hurry.”

Blushing, Gary quickly squelched an urge to look over his shoulder at the pretty brunette.  He allowed the Van Owens to escort him down to the curb and assist him into the waiting limo.  To his chagrin, the Admiral was already occupying the seat directly behind the driver, facing back towards Gary.

“So glad we could be of assistance,” the senior officer smiled.  “Lt. Nowicki.”

“Ho-boy,” Gary murmured.  “H-hello, A-Admiral.”   As the car pulled away from the curb, he sank back with a weary sigh.  This was going to be a long night.

**********

Jake took his time in the shower, secretly hoping that Gary would fall asleep waiting for him.  He was worried about his cousin, having noticed how distracted and worn-down the barkeep had been looking all evening.  Jake had to wonder if his ‘twin’ was suffering flashbacks.  Dr. Griner had told him that people who survived the kind of torment that Marley had dished out often found themselves reliving it.  That the most innocuous things could trigger a powerful, vivid memory. 

Finally deciding that he had been in there long enough, Jake turned off the water and began drying himself off.  To his chagrin, he heard movement in the next room.  Either Gary wasn’t as tired as he had appeared to be, or he had the stamina of a racehorse!  Starting to wrap the towel around his waist as he stepped through the bathroom door, Jake prepared to chase his obstinate cousin off to bed.

“Gary,” he said, “it’s getting kinda late.  Do you mind if we oh my Lord!”

“Eeeeeeek!”

It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Jake . . . or the maid who had been stripping the bed.

************

“You didn’t really think we’d buy into that ‘just one of those faces’ excuse?” the admiral chuckled.  “Or that it’s just a coincidence that you happened to know about a terrorist attack on the VP that even the CIA hadn’t caught wind of?  Now, tell us the truth.  Where are you really going?  Some ‘hotspot’ in the Middle East?  Afghanistan, maybe?”

“I-I’m afraid you have me mixed up with my cousin,” Gary stammered nervously.  “I’m Jake Evans, the banker.  The riskiest thing I deal with is market analysis and the occasional audit.  And Gary?  H-he runs a bar downtown.  M-McGinty’s on Illinois and Franklin.  The farthest he’s been from home in the last six years was a trip to ‘Vegas last November.  P-poor guy has this . . . this knack for landing up to his neck in trouble.”

As they talked, Gary glanced nervously out the tinted windows of the limousine.  So far as he could tell, they were headed in the general direction of the airport. 

“He could be telling the truth, Dad,” Emily commented, watching Gary closely.  “The resemblance between them is absolutely uncanny.  What bank did you say you work for?” she asked Gary.

“Union Securities.”  The name rolled naturally off of Gary’s tongue, as well as the address of the main Chicago office, the name of Jake’s secretary, whom he’d met on several occasions, and the name of his immediate superior.  For the next several minutes, he glibly answered questions with what little he knew of Jake’s life.  What surprised him was just how much he actually knew.  “N-no,” he replied to Eric’s question, asking if they had grown up together.  “We, um, we met last October.  He and Ms. Gannon, and a couple of other cousins . . . th-they came into this huge, um, reward.  They wanted to do something . . . positive with . . . that much money, so they came to my bank.”  He managed a dry chuckle at the memory.  “I’ll bet it was Simmons, at the front desk, who sent them to me.  Imagine walking into your own office and coming face-to-face . . . to face with three guys who look just like you!  Let me tell you, it’s not easy keeping your cool in a situation like that.”

“Uh-hunh!  Three.  Right.  And how did your cousins earn this . . . reward?” Admiral Harrigan asked, his skepticism evident.

“By staying alive,” Gary answered grimly.  He really didn’t want to go into the details.  Too many things were still way too fresh in his mind.  More was lost forever . . . he hoped.  He had no memory of the two times he was ‘put in touch’ with the consciousness of the comatose ‘soldier,’ Tony Greco, and had no wish to.  Nor did he have any clear recollections of the young Mafioso’s passing.  Only a sense that he had found the peace that had eluded him in life.  “S-see, um, there were these, um, a-a team of assassins.  G-Gary had witnessed a, ahm, a murder wh-while looking for his cat.”

“His cat?” Emily exclaimed in disbelief. 

“Y-yeah!” Gary stammered.  “Oh, you’d love this cat.  Great cat.  Smart as a . . . a-anyway, the cat went missing and ol’ Gary, h-he can’t stand the idea of anything happening to, um, so he goes looking f-for his cat . . . in this warehouse . . . in Chinatown.”

“Wait a minute,” Eric interrupted.  “He lives above his bar on Illinois and Franklin, which is in downtown Chicago, yet he goes all the way to Chinatown to look for his cat?  Are we really supposed to buy that?”

“I don’t care what you buy,” Gary shot back.  “I’m just going by what I’ve been told.”  ‘Keep it cool,’ he reminded himself.  ‘You’re Jake, not Gary.’  “Do you wanna hear this story, or not?”  The admiral waved him to go ahead.  “S-so G-Gary goes into this warehouse ‘cause he thought he heard his cat, b-but he finds this little girl instead.  Sh-she, um, she was . . . a-anyway, he also heard these guys arguing . . . in Chinese.  H-he can’t understand a word they’re saying but it doesn’t sound good, s-so he figures he better get that little girl out of there.  Th-then . . . the shooting started and, um, h-he doesn’t t-talk about the rest of it.  I get the feeling that he’d much rather forget it ever happened.”

“What happened to the little girl?” Emily murmured.

“He, um, he managed to get her out before it all went sour,” Gary shrugged.  “She never saw a thing, so these . . . these guys never figured her as a threat.  She was scared, but . . . but o-okay.”

“And they hired these . . . assassins,” the admiral mused, “to eliminate the only reliable witness.  Is that what you’re saying?”

“Y-yeah,” Gary nodded vigorously.  How far was it to the airport, he wondered?  The ride seemed to be taking forever! 

“They weren’t, say, taking out the competition?” the senior officer speculated.

That hit Gary from ‘left field,’ confusing him for a moment.  “I’m sorry,” he replied hesitantly.  “I don’t think I understand what you mean by that.”

“Oh come, now, Mr. Evans,” Admiral Harrigan chuckled.  “If you truly are Mr. Evans.  They don’t hire international assassins for a bartender!”

“They do if all the local talent failed,” Gary snapped, irked at the other man’s tone.  “And Gary is a bar owner not a bartender, unless someone gets sick!  Look, I appreciate the ride, and all, but if you only did it to interrogate me, then you can let me off at the next corner.  I’m with United Securities, not ‘Her Majesty’s Secret Service.’  Jake Evans.  Not James Bond.  I drink my martinis stirred.  With an olive.  And I don’t like vodka!”

“Easy!” Emily chuckled, trying to smooth his ‘ruffled feathers.’  “We’ve just been very curious about the way ‘Lt. Nowicki’ disappeared so suddenly.  Without waiting for so much as a thank you.  Very mysterious.”

“From what you just said,” her father added, “your cousin managed to elude the best of the ‘local talent’ and capture two well connected international assassins.  Quite a coup for a bartender.”

“Barkeeper,” Gary corrected with a frustrated sigh.  “And he was just the bait.  He told me that, if not for the CPD and a local PI, he would’ve been dead ten times over.  He doesn’t like to talk about this, and neither do I, but you have to understand my cousin.  He doesn’t like attention.  Not because he’s some ‘top secret’ whatever, but because he just wants a normal life.”

“Yet your Mr. Hobson leads such an exciting life,” Eric commented dryly, “for a barkeep.”

“N-not at all,” Gary stammered, thinking he may have overplayed his impersonation.  “L-like I said.  Things just keep . . . happening to him.  Th-that’s . . . Oh, look!  There’s the airport exit!  I really appreciate this, guys.  M-Mrs. Van Owen.  My boss was adamant that I be at this meeting in the morning.  You’ve saved my life.”  ‘I hope.’

The driver helped Gary out in front of the United Airlines entrance.  He was still trying to conceal how useless his left arm was, as Jake had not had any trouble slipping his out of the sling from time to time during dinner.

“We’ll look you up when we get back to Chicago,” the admiral promised.  “Your cousin, too.  Have a good flight . . . Mr. Evans.”

As they watched their passenger hurry inside, the admiral turned to his daughter and son-in-law.

“Did you buy any of that?” he asked them, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Not a word,” Emily replied.  “But it really was an incredible story.”

Gary hurried inside and stood in line at the desk, watching until the limo had finally pulled away.  He was pretty sure the admiral had been watching to see which airline he actually took.  The moment the big car was out of sight, he hurried to the arrivals gate and snagged the second taxi in line.  He quickly gave the name of the train station where he had already booked a seat on the next train bound for Chicago.

**************

“Wh-wh-what are you doing here?” Jake stammered, quickly tying the towel around his waist.  He reached behind the bathroom door and grabbed the terrycloth robe hanging there.  As he struggled into it, the maid fought to regain her composure.

“The front desk said you had turned in your security pass, Mr. Evans,” she replied.  The young woman bit her lip to hide a smile.  Now that the shock had worn off, she was obviously enjoying herself.  Her eyes seemed to be memorizing every inch of him.  “I thought I’d go ahead and straighten up tonight.”

“W-well,” Jake huffed, tugging the robe a little tighter, “as you can see, ‘Mr. Evans’ is still very much here.  S-so if you don’t mind.”  He waved his hand in a shooing motion. “I need to get dressed so I can get to the bottom of this mess.”

“Very well, sir,” the maid replied, giving him one more lingering glance as she backed out through the door.  “Call if you need anything.  Ask for Laura,” she added, giving him a suggestive wink.  Her eyes were still ‘checking him out’ as the door clicked shut.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jake collapsed on the bed. “Joanie is never gonna believe this,” he moaned.  “Gary, what have you done?”  He recalled how guilty his cousin had felt that day after the shooting in the rose garden.  Had he really gone off to draw out the terrorists?  To divert their attention from his family and friends?  “Hell, yes,” Jake grumbled to himself.  “That’s exactly what you did!  Using my security pass!  Crap!”

For Jake, it was only a matter of minutes to get dressed and rush to Gary’s room.  He found Lois and Bernie talking with the President, First Lady, and those two guys from the NSA or NSC, or some other letters of the alphabet.  “Is Gary in here?” he asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.

“We saw him go into your room about an hour ago,” Lois told him.  “Wasn’t he with you?”

Jake quickly explained about Gary leaving while he was in the shower . . . with Jake’s pass.  “I’m also missing one of my shirts and a dark blue sports coat,” he added.  “I think our wounded pigeon has flown the coup.”

The President grabbed the phone and was instantly put through to his chief of security.  It took several minutes, but they soon knew that Gary, passing himself off as Jake, had been given a ride to the airport by Admiral Harrigan and his family. 

Jake had not waited around to hear any of this.  The instant he had delivered his alarming statement, the young banker was bolting for the front entrance.  He approached the same young lady who had been so helpful to his cousin.  She seemed startled to see him.  Yes, she remembered ‘Mr. Evans.’  Yes, she had called him a cab to take him to the airport.  No, he seemed in a hurry, so he had accepted a ride with the admiral and his party.  She sounded rather disappointed about that. 

“I need you to call me a cab,” Jake told her.  “How soon can you get one here?”

“It usually takes about twenty minutes, sir,” the young intern replied.  “Who shall I say it’s for?”

“Jake Evans,” he replied distractedly.  He had grabbed a phone book from her desk and was rapidly thumbing through the Yellow Pages.  ‘Train stations,’ he thought to himself.  ‘The airport’s too obvious.  And Gary’s in no shape for a long bus ride.  That leaves . . .’

“I’m sorry, sir,” the young woman was saying.  “You can’t be Mr. Evans.”

It took a moment for this to sink in.  “Excuse me?” Jake asked, astonished at this girl’s bald statement.  “Why can’t I be me, um, M-Mr. Evans?”

“Because Mr. Jake Evans signed out about forty-five minutes ago,” was her prim reply.  She turned the security log around for him to see ‘his’ signature.  “So, you can’t be Jake Evans.  I mean you could, you look so much alike.  But you couldn’t because he’s already signed out!”

Jake was getting confused just listening to her.  “L-let me get this straight,” he ventured.  “I can’t be Jake Evans, because this guy who looks just like me said he was Jake Evans.  And he’s already left the building, correct?”

“That’s correct,” the girl replied, flashing him a brilliant smile.  As if to say, ‘See how easy that was?’  “You can’t be Mr. Evans, therefore, you must be someone else who’s a guest of the White House.”

Jake was getting a headache.  He rubbed vigorously at his temples as he tried to follow her convoluted logic.  “And just who would you suggest that I might be?” he sighed patiently.

“Don’t you know?”

Jake braced his arms on the desk and let his head droop.  ‘Yep,’ he told himself.  ‘This is gonna be a real skull buster.’

“Sign me out as Gary Hobson,” he told her, speaking very slowly.  “I left my pass upstairs, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem because I am leaving, not entering, this august edifice.  Now, will you please . . . call me . . . a cab?”

“Of course, Mr. Hobson,” the girl replied stiffly.  Her tone clearly said,  ‘Grouch.’  “If you’ll wait by the entrance, I’ll page you as soon as it arrives.”  She picked up her phone and began dialing.

“Thank you,” Jake sighed.  “In the meanwhile, is there a phone I can use?  I need to make a few calls.”

Pointing at a courtesy desk closer to the entrance, she paid no further attention to him as she spoke to the dispatcher.  Too bad, she told herself.  So nice looking, but such a grump!

***********

Gary made his train with half an hour to spare.  There was some deal about a special baggage car being added on at the end.  It was causing some problems.  Something about a Tyler mount?  Wasn’t that for news cameras, he wondered?  God!  He hoped he hadn’t stumbled into some media circus event!  He had been hoping to slip away quietly.

No, the conductor assured him.  It was just some company using the train as one of the locations for their movie.  A five minute action sequence that was taking three days to shoot.

Feeling a little more at ease upon hearing this, Gary settled into his seat with a sigh.  His shoulder was throbbing like a sore tooth, the absence of the sling beginning to tell on him.  He was almost wishing he had worn it, after all. 

Soon enough, the train pulled out from the station.  The minute, but rhythmic, vibrations of the conveyance quickly lulled him into a false sense of security.  Laying his seat back, Gary made himself as comfortable as possible for the long ride.

In minutes, Gary was sound asleep.  Thus it was that he did not see the woman seated near the back of the car, whispering into her cell phone.

*********

By the time his cab arrived, Jake had found the station where Gary had purchased his ticket.  The agent told him it had been held in the name of Jake Evans, secured by one of his credit card numbers.  The party picking it up, however, had paid in cash.  No, sir.  The train was leaving the station within the next few minutes.  No, sir.  There was no way they could delay the train any further.  It was already almost an hour late due to a movie company adding on a special car. 

“Then what’s the next stop on the line for that train?” Jake asked, just as his, or rather Gary’s, name was called.  He quickly wrote down the information, thanking the agent profusely as he hung up.  He ran out the door and jumped into the taxi before the driver could open the door for him.  Jake handed the piece of paper to the cabbie, saying that he had to be at that station in less than two hours.

“Are you nuts?” the hack grumbled.  “That’s way outside my zone, pal.  I’ll get docked a month’s pay for a trip like that!”

“Two hundred if you get me there in ninety minutes,” Jake offered, holding out four fifty-dollar bills.  “That’s over and above whatever the meter shows.”

“Fasten your seatbelt, Mac,” the cabbie replied.  “You’ve got a deal.”

As the taxi pulled out, Jake settled back in his seat.  The minute they hit the main road, he knew, the cabbie would be going for new land speed records to get him to his destination.  Now, if only they were lucky enough to avoid being stopped for speeding!

So engrossed was Jake in trying to plan what he was going to do when he caught up with his errant cousin, he failed to notice two men racing down the steps of the White House.  Parker and Donovan halted at the foot of the stairs, cursing in frustration as they watched the cab speed away. 

*********

Gary gave a start, wincing as the sudden motion sent a shaft of pain radiating from his shoulder and into his arm.  Biting back a groan, he looked around to see what had awakened him.  To his bewilderment, the train was not moving.  Other passengers were also looking around, wondering at the cause for this unscheduled stop.  The only one still sleeping was a middle-aged woman near the back of the car.

“Excuse me,” an older man asked a passing conductor.  “Is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” the conductor assured him.  “Just a slight delay.  A maintenance vehicle was left on the tracks, and we’re having to wait until it’s been removed.  It’ll only be a few more minutes.”  Having imparted this information, the attendant continued on his way.

Gary had to wonder, as did several others, what a maintenance vehicle was doing on the tracks that late at night?  On impulse, he levered himself from his seat and followed after the conductor.  He passed by the sleeping woman, paying her no more attention than he would any other stranger.  It was in the next car that he finally caught up with the railway employee. 

“E-excuse me.  Sir?” Gary said.  “Is there anyway I can upgrade my ticket to a roomette or a berth?  I’ve been a little under the weather, a-and I’d really like someplace I could stretch out.”

The conductor took one look at Gary’s pale, sweat-beaded face, and nodded his understanding.  He led the younger man to an empty roomette and told him not to worry.  They could take care of everything when they got to the next station.

Gary stretched out on the seat with a grateful sigh.  This offered him some measure of concealment and, hopefully, a chance get a little real, drug free sleep. 

A short time later, the train pulled into its regular stop.  Gary was just starting to drift off to sleep when something landed on his stomach with a low growl.  Struggling against his own body’s desire for rest, he opened his eyes to see a familiar striped face just a few inches from his own. 

“We have got to do something about your breath,” Gary murmured, setting the tabby aside with his good hand.  Sitting up, he ran his hand over his face, trying to wake up a little more.  Looking out the window, the fog in his brain was quickly dispelled by a much too familiar face. 

Marley!  The terrorist was standing on the platform, flanked on each side by two more bruisers.  Where did he keep finding these hairless gorillas, Gary wondered?  Each of the four henchmen looked like they bench-pressed Volkswagens!  No way was he going to sit still and let them get their hands on him!

“C’mon, cat,” he murmured.  “It’s time we found other transportation.  How do you feel about hitch-hiking?”

As Gary was about to leave the roomette, he saw the five men separate, one going to each of the three passenger cars, and the two sleepers.  Panicked, he looked around for someplace to hide.  The tiny cubicle offered him no solutions.  Going out into the corridor would only lead him to one goon or another.  What could he do?

A faint noise just outside his door caused Gary to freeze, his heart pounding.  He was trapped!

****************

Jake snatched his ticket from the agent and ran for the platform.  He had been sweating bullets, praying that he would make it in time.  Luck had been with him in that the train had been delayed for some reason, giving him a chance to jump aboard just as it was pulling out of the station.  He leaped up the steps into the first car, a sleeper.  This time of night, there were not many people in evidence, most having either retreated to a berth, or a cubicle if they had one.  Gary’s ticket put him in the first passenger car, not the sleeper.

The young banker worked his way through the first car, checking each compartment.  No sign of his errant cousin.  He tried explaining to the conductor that he was looking for a man who looked exactly like him, but who might not be feeling well, and having trouble with his left arm.  The conductor wanted to know what kind of games he was playing, before shaking his head and going off to help a woman with a cranky child.

Jake could sympathize.  He was getting a little ‘cranky’ himself. 

**********

The door opened and the thug stepped into the cubicle.  He opened the closet, looked into the overhead bunk and then left.  A few minutes after the door closed, the bench seat rose up a couple of inches.  Two mud-puddle green eyes peered cautiously through the narrow gap.  Gary made sure the coast was clear before he emerged from his hiding place.  It had been a tight squeeze, but he had managed to wedge himself into the space beneath the padded seat before the goon had finished picking the lock.  He had, at one point, considered the fold-down bunk, but couldn’t think of a way to pull it shut with him in it. 

It was the cat that had clued him in to the fact that the bench seat was not bolted down.  His furry guardian angel had come through again.  Now, if only he could vanish as easily as the enigmatic feline!

Gary straightened his, or rather Jake’s, jacket as best he could with only one good hand, then eased the door open just a crack.  He could see the thug heading toward the back of the train, which had started moving while he was stuck in that tiny hole.  Thinking the coast was now clear, Gary slipped silently into the corridor and turned toward the front of the car.  His plan had been to go from car to car, if need be, to find the conductor and enlist his help. 

His plans changed dramatically when he glanced through the connecting doors, and spotted Marley grinning at him from the next car!  Gary spun on his heel and bolted back the way he had come, ignoring the startled looks from the few other passengers occupying the car.  Behind him, he could hear the sounds of pursuit as Marley and company crossed the gap to his car.

Gary never slowed as he burst through the door leading to the platform, snatching the next door open and barreling into a large obstruction.  Before he even realized that he had hit someone, Gary was through and flying down the narrow hallway.  He only spared the man he had knocked down a muttered “Sorry,” and a quick glance.  The words stuck in his throat as he recognized one of Marley’s henchmen scowling up at him.  Gary ran faster.

*********

Jake heard a startled cry up ahead.  Increasing his pace, he was sure he recognized the broad back disappearing through the connecting door as having boarded the train while he was still buying his ticket.  ‘Could that be one of Marley’s people?’ he asked himself.  ‘If it is, I better not let them see me.  One case of . . . Wait.  Why is he running?  Oh, God!  They’ve cornered Gary!’

He put on a burst of speed, now trying to catch up with the men he most feared to run into.  An idea occurred to him when he spotted the end of a briefcase just barely sticking out into the aisle. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to the smartly dressed woman occupying the seat.  “May I borrow this?  It’s a matter of life and death.  Seriously.”

“Lose my research,” she told him, “and I can guarantee it.  Other than that, be my guest.”

“Thank you,” Jake murmured.  He snatched the aluminum case up and ran for all he was worth.  Slowing as he came up behind the last man in line, Jake waited until the others had already gone through the opening, then brought the briefcase down on the thug’s head in a crushing blow.

The big man turned in slow motion.  Upon spying his supposed quarry, his eyes widened in surprise, before rolling up into his head.  The stunned behemoth then collapsed at the banker’s feet. 

Jake set the case down, letting his breath out in an explosive sigh of relief.  He’d thought he’d blown it there, for just a second.  Grabbing the huge man by the ankles, Jake dragged him into a cubicle and used the thug’s own belt to tie his hands behind his back.  The young banker then locked the door and hung a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the handle.  Grabbing up the briefcase once more, he continued to follow the sounds of pursuit.

************

Gary ducked into the nearest bathroom when he heard footsteps thumping rapidly ahead, coming from the direction he had been heading.  A few seconds after pulling the door shut, he heard what sounded like a small elephant go thundering past.  Gary didn’t even wait for the echoes to die before he yanked the door open and bolted for the flexible corridor linking the last day coach with the dining car.  The door leading to the platform had barely opened when he heard a shout behind him!  Gary yanked the portal shut, jamming the handle of a plunger he had found in the bathroom under the lever.  He knew it wouldn’t hold for long, but it might give him a bigger lead.  Perhaps even a chance to hide.

Gary ran through the empty dining car, and on through to the galley, his pursuers curses ringing in his ears as they finally overcame his minor obstacle.  He ripped the cap from a bottle of cooking oil and slung it across the floor behind him, not stopping to witness the results of his handiwork.  The contents of a bag of rice soon joined the mess, along with some dried beans. 

Cries of surprise and loud curses, followed by a cacophony of crashing pans and dishes, testified to the success of his tactics.  Gary didn’t think it would be prudent to stand around and gloat.  He ran for the next car as if his life depended on it.

A most accurate assessment.

*********

Jake heard the racket up ahead and figured he must be closing in on his cousin.  He paused, in the junction between cars, to set the briefcase aside and grab a small fire extinguisher.  He wasn’t sure how much damage he could do with it, but it was heavier than the briefcase.  He almost fell for Gary’s trap as he ran into the back of the dining car, but managed to keep his feet under him.  He had just reached the end of the compartment when he thought he heard a pained cry from up ahead, almost drowned out by the clatter of wheels as the train sped along its tracks.  He bolted through the adjoining doors, ignoring startled cries behind him. 

Next was a crowded baggage car.  It was full of the regular passengers’ luggage and a few large trunks and crates.  But no goons and, more importantly, no Gary. Cries of alarm and consternation drew Jake’s attention to the fact that there was another car beyond this one.  Hands tightening on the fire extinguisher, he quickly navigated the narrow space between the stacks.

With a loud cry, the banker burst through into the next car, hoping to surprise Gary’s attackers.  His shout died in his throat at the astonishing sight before him!

In the narrow confines of the baggage car stood Gary, a long pry bar in his good hand.  He was squared off against Marley and three more WWF rejects, his left arm dangling uselessly by his side.  The look on his face was one of sheer panic and determination.  His four opponents, while seeming to take up all the available space in the unusually wide car, also seemed hesitant to brave his puny defense.

A fact that was probably explained by the bright lights, the cameras, and the group of people staring in fascination at this grim tableau.  One man, apparently the director, began yelling that they were not on their marks!  His words were almost drowned out by the train noises crashing in through the open cargo door.  The cameramen at each end of the car were trying to keep the four men in focus, without filming each other.  There did not seem to be a sound crew in evidence.  Apparently, background noise and voices were to be dubbed in later.  Behind the director, a tall, dark-haired man with lean, swarthy features, was rifling through a multi-colored sheaf of papers. 

“Was this in the blue pages?” he muttered in a soft foreign accent.  The actor turned to the prop man next to him.  “Did you know about these changes?”  The prop man just shrugged helplessly.

“K-keep away from me, Marley,” Gary stammered.  His attention was locked on the four men in front of him, any one of whom could break him in half!  He seemed totally unaware that anyone else was in the car.  “I’m no threat to you!”

“Your very existence is a threat,” Marley growled.  “Your blundering around, trying to save people from their own follies, interfering where you don’t belong . . . It got my father killed!”

“Your father got himself killed!” Gary retorted.  “He was given every chance to surrender!  A-all I did was try to stay alive!”  He took a hurried step back, brandishing the pry bar like a sword, as one of the goons made a quick feint to his left.  “Stay back!  I-I’m warning you!  I didn’t ask to get mixed up in that mess!  Your father needed a patsy and I was handy.  That’s all!”

“Are we getting all this?” the director whispered to one of the cameramen.  He was answered with a quick ‘thumbs up.’  “Good.”

“I don’t think I have these changes,” the handsome actor was saying.  “Am I missing some pages?”

One of the goons lunged at Gary, who jumped back almost out of reach, bringing the pry bar down in a vicious blow across that broad back.  It hardly phased the larger man, who grabbed at Gary’s ankles, trying to bring the smaller man to the floor.  Gary danced back a step and kicked the big bruiser in the chin.  This maneuver put him a little closer to the open cargo door, but accomplished little else.  The wind from the broad opening whipped at his hair and clothing, stinging his eyes.

Jake chose that moment to act.  He ignored the stunned looks of the movie crew as he sprayed the nearest goon with the fire extinguisher.  He then used the canister as a club, smashing it across the behemoth’s face as he turned to confront this new factor.  To Jake’s astonishment, this hardly seemed to phase the big man, who shook his head and snarled at the banker.  Swallowing nervously, Jake backed up a step, holding the canister in front of him like a shield.  Smiling menacingly, the hulking thug took a slow step forward, his arms spread as if to give him a big hug.  Jake was pretty sure he didn’t want those tree trunks anywhere near his ribs.

There was a loud ‘clang!’  The thug in front of Jake rolled his eyes up into his head and dropped to the floor. 

“I didn’t like his face,” the swarthy actor shrugged, tossing aside the metal folding chair he had used as a club.  “Are you hokay?” he asked Jake. 

“I-I’m fine,” Jake stammered.  He looked around for the other goon.  To his amazement, Parker and Donovan had appeared as if from nowhere, and were trying to wrestle the leviathan to the floor.  They weren’t having much success.  The broad shouldered giant was slinging them around like dolls!  Finally, Parker managed to bring his knee up in a crippling blow that left the giant pasty-faced and gasping for air. 

All this time, the third bruiser had still been trying to trip Gary up, or at least drive him closer to Marley.  Jake had seen that his cousin was rapidly tiring.  He was really in no shape for such an encounter.  Several times, he almost lost his footing, narrowly missing capture by less than a hairsbreadth! 

“Call off your dog, Marley!” Gary cried, having finally seen his rescuers.  “You’ve lost!”

“Not yet, I haven’t,” the assassin snarled, lunging at Gary, and missing.  “To win . . . all I have to do . . . is kill you!” 

Gary dodged another lunge by the henchman, bringing his club down in a blow that connected solidly with the man’s head, laying him out on the floor, unconscious.  That left him facing only the ring-leader, Marley.  It also put him directly in front of the gaping door.  Panting, he stood his ground, looking for some way past the enraged assassin.  The others were just wrapping up their fights, too far away to help him, as yet.  Still, what could Marley do?  Even if he killed Gary, at this point, he could not hope to elude capture.  What was the point of all the posturing?

“Give it up!” he yelled, trying to make himself heard above the roaring of the wind.  “You don’t have to do this!”

His face twisted in an insane mask of rage, Marley lunged forward, knocking Gary through the door!

Jake cried out in horror as he watched the two figures disappear into the darkness.  He lunged forward in a futile attempt to save Gary, only to be brought up short by several pairs of arms. 

“It’s no good!” someone shouted in his ear.  “They’re gone!”

“No!” Jake snapped, driving his elbow into someone’s ribs.  “Let me go!”

“It’s too late!” Parker told him, stepping in front of the distraught banker and placing both hands firmly on his shoulders.  “He’s gone, Evans,” he added more gently.  “There’s no way he could survive a fall at this speed.”

“You don’t know that!” Jake grated out between clenched teeth, his voice almost a sob.  “You don’t know Gary!”

“I know that hitting the ground from anything traveling at better than fifty miles an hour will kill you,” Parker replied dismally.  His stomach twisted into knots as he envisioned a replay of that grim scene in the Critical Care Unit.  Of Lois and Bernie Hobson once more giving their son permission to die.  Only now, he wouldn’t need it.  “I’m sorry, Evans.  I know you two were . . .”

“H-help!  Help me!  Please?”

Stunned, the restraining arms fell away, leaving Jake free to throw himself to the floor in front of that menacing maw.  He craned his neck to peer cautiously toward the back of the car.  It was too dark to see clearly, but he was sure that the figure clutching the inspection ladder with one hand was Gary!   

“H-hurry, please,” the figure begged, having to shout to be heard above the racket of the train.  “I-I can’t h-hold on . . . m-much longer!”

Fire burned the length of Gary’s arm as he clung desperately to the metal rung.  His feet scrabbled helplessly for the slightest toehold to ease the strain.  His breath caught in his throat, slammed back by the force of the slipstream as the train sped towards its destination!

“Hurry!” he repeated.

Jake turned back to the dumbfounded agents.  “Hold my legs,” he told them.  “Hurry!  He hasn’t got much time!”

Shaking off their shock-induced immobility, the two agents each grabbed a leg and hung on.  Jake slid his body forward through the opening, keeping as close to the rear edge as he could, until he was in serious danger of falling, himself.  Stretching his hands out, he tried to grab onto the jacket that Gary had borrowed.  He could just barely touch the shoulder!

“Gary!” he screamed, trying to make himself heard.  “Give me your hand!  Reach for me!  Now!”

With what felt like superhuman effort, Gary tried to bend his left arm; raise it just enough to reach out for his cousin’s outstretched hand.  Pain shot all the way to his neck and into his head, threatening to weaken his already shaky hold on consciousness!

“I can’t,” Gary screamed back.  “It won’t move it that far!”

“Try, dammit!” Jake snapped.  “Try it, or you’re dead!”

Jake could hear Gary cursing, even over the noise of the train, as he strained to move his useless appendage. 

Bile rose in Gary’s throat, choking him, as he tried to make his injured arm obey his command.  Sweat broke out on his face and body, soaking his shirt, only to cool instantly in the freezing air.  If he could only make the damned thing move!

“It’s no good!” he finally called out.  “I can’t move my hand!”

“We don’t want your hand, you idiot,” an accented voice snarled.  “We just need your arm!  Can you raise it far enough for us to reach it?”  Startled, Jake looked up to see the actor strapping on a safety harness.  Kneeling next to the banker, he stretched out his hand.  “Can you do that much?”

“I-I’ll try,” Gary stammered.  They could almost see him biting his lip as he brought his left arm up with agonizing slowness.  A muffled groan escaped him as he stretched it up to his rescuers.  With a choked sob, he pressed his hand firmly against the wall of the car, forcing it to crawl up toward the desperate grasp of his rescuers.  Two pairs of hands, Jake’s and the actor’s, clamped around the upper part of his arm, hanging on with a strength borne of desperation, as other hands pulled the rescuers back into the baggage car.  There was a bad moment, when all of Gary’s weight was on his injured arm, wringing from him an agonized scream before he went completely limp in their grasp.  They finally managed to snag his right arm, dragging his unconscious form to safety.

***********

Pain.  A deep, burning sensation that radiated from both shoulders and into his arms.  It was ten times worse in the left, than in the right.  The salty, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he licked dry, torn lips.  He dimly realized that he had bitten deeply into the lower one.  A band of fire ran along his left ribs, along with a feeling of wetness.

“He’s coming around,” someone murmured, sounding close by.  “I think he’s going to be okay.”

“Y-yeah,” Gary mumbled, trying to will away the darkness. “M’ okay.”  He blinked his eyes several times, forcing the fuzzy pink blobs hovering above him to take on their normal clarity.  At least a dozen faces were peering anxiously, relaxing into relieved smiles as he opened his eyes.   Slowly craning his head, Gary saw that he was on the floor of the ‘baggage car,’ the movie crew making up a large part of his audience.  “Wh-where . . .?”

“We’re still on the train, Gary,” Jake told him.  He looked a little worn, but otherwise okay.  “You scared the hell out of us for a few minutes.  Everyone thought you’d . . . I mean . . . wh-when you and Marley f-fell . . .”

“S’ okay,” Gary murmured.  He gave his cousin a weak smile.  “Not the first time I’ve come back from the dead.  H-how’d you . . . I didn’t think . . .”

“That part was obvious the minute you took off on your own,” Donovan snorted.  He was pulling Gary’s shirt up, having noticed a red stain seeping through.  “I don’t suppose you stopped to consider what might happen?”

“They shot Jake,” Gary sighed, averting his troubled gaze.  “C-couldn’t let that . . .”

“I knew it!” the banker snapped.  He shot the two agents an angry look.  “I told you he wasn’t running!  He was playing decoy!  Gary, it’s not your fault that we look so much alike.  Quit taking responsibility for something you had nothing to do with.”

“But Marley . . .”

“Could just as easily have latched onto one of the twins, if they had been here,” Jake reminded him.  “Like Neff’s gorillas did with you in ‘Vegas.  Did you once blame Clay for any of that?  No!  So why should I blame you for Marley?”

“I dunno,” Gary sighed, “but gimme a minute.  I’ll think o’ somethin’.”  He tried to raise his right hand, to rub at his aching head, but it hurt too much.  “Ever’ one else okay?” he asked.  “No one hurt?”

“Just you,” Parker grumbled.  Digging into his pocket, he handed Jake a folded bill.  “Do you always do that?”

“Hmm?” Gary murmured.  He gritted his teeth as Donovan stripped away the bandage over his ribs.  “Do what?” he grunted.

“Never mind,” the agent sighed.  He was looking down at the row of busted stitches.  “Ow!  That has to hurt!”

“I-it does,” Gary grunted as the black agent applied pressure to the wound.  “Ya wouldn’t have any Tylenol or somethin’ handy, would ya?”

“We need to get him someplace more comfortable than this floor,” the swarthy actor commented.  “He can use my compartment, if he wishes.  It’s just past the dining car.”

Jake and the two agents exchanged anxious, but amused glances.  Gary’s ‘delaying tactic’ was still scattered all over the floor of the galley.  The banker suggested they lay some heavy mats or blankets over it until someone could clean it up.  While Donovan went in search of the appropriate ‘counter measures,’ Jake and Parker helped Gary to stand.  It took one to each side, grabbing him by the belt and under the shoulders, to help him to his feet.

Swaying unsteadily, Gary looked over at the yawning gap of the cargo door.  The pitch black was broken only by the occasional flicker as nearby scenery reflected back the lights being used by the movie crew.

“I didn’t hear him hit,” Gary murmured softly, his words hardly more than a whisper.

“What’s that?” Jake asked, one arm encircling Gary’s back to support his cousin.  “Didn’t hear what hit?”

“Marley,” Gary mumbled tiredly as he let them lead him back toward the dining car.  “I didn’t hear it . . . when he . . . when he hit the ground.  I-I think we were on some kinda bridge, or somethin’.  Wh-when he fell, he . . . he screamed, but I never heard . . .”

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker grunted, supporting him from the other side.  “We’ll send a team back to search for the body.  No way he’s gonna come out of this alive!”  He stepped gingerly onto the coarse matting that Donovan had tossed onto the floor of the dining car.  “You’ve seen the last of Mr. Marley.”

********

Gary insisted on staying on the train until they were safely in Chicago.  Marley’s four henchmen were turned over to the police in Wheeling, West Virginia, where Donovan stayed to press charges.  He promised to meet them in Chicago the next day.

To Gary’s chagrin, his parents and Polly were waiting for him at Union Station.  They must have caught the plane that he had lied to the admiral about.  The look his mother gave him as he was helped down the steps, while promising a series of long, irate lectures, was nothing compared to the one leveled at him by the fuming tech.  If looks could kill, she could have depopulated half of the State of Illinois!  Her left arm was hugged tightly to her side, while she rubbed vigorously to ease the pain in her left shoulder.

“You will explain to us why you chose to pull such a harebrained stunt,” she growled.  “Correct?”

“S-sure,” Gary stammered.  “Could we, um, hold off until I get these . . . these stitches repaired?  I promise to tell you everything.  B-but I think you’ve probably figured it out, already.”

“I’m sure we have,” Lois grumbled.  “Gary, I can understand your motives, and I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but if you ever pull anything like this again, your father and I will lock you in your loft, weld all the doors and windows shut, and feed you through a hole in the wall!  You scared the life out of us!”

Gary was almost relieved to be loaded into the waiting ambulance. 

**********

FRIDAY, MARCH 8, CHICAGO - 1130 HRS

“It feels good to be home,” Gary sighed as he eased onto the barstool.  “So, Marissa.  How was the honeymoon?”

“Wonderful,” was his partner’s wistful response.  Then her expression sobered, became almost grim.  “It would’ve been perfect if we hadn’t come home to learn you were in another hospital.  In Washington, D.C., no less.  Gary, what are we going to do with you?”

“Not you, too!” Gary groaned.  He propped his right elbow on the counter and rubbed his hand across his face.  “I’ve been getting one lecture after another since I got back!  Everyone from the President on down to the nurses at the hospital has had a crack at me.  How many times do I have to say ‘I’m sorry!’  I know it was a stupid stunt!  I know I could’ve been killed!  Believe me, I know!  I’ve only heard it sixteen times since getting off that train the other night.  I just couldn’t think of any other way to end this!  So long as Marley and crew were out there, I couldn’t show my face!”

“And neither could Jake,” Marissa nodded, seeing his point.  “Yet Lois and Bernie could come and go as they pleased.”

“Only because Marley hadn’t caught on that they were important to me,” Gary shrugged, wincing slightly.  Both shoulders were feeling much better, now.  The right had been sprained when he’d grabbed onto the rung of the ladder.  It was stiff, but mobile.  The left still hurt like a son of a gun, but was responding well to treatment.  He already had more strength and flexibility in his hand.  The doctors had assured him that he would be back to normal within a month. 

“Are they sure he’s dead?” the sightless woman asked.  “That Mr. Parker said they never found the body.”

“They seem to think so,” Gary sighed.  “I wish I could be as positive about it, but . . . I don’t know.  Part of me wants him to be gone for good, like his father.  Another part of me . . . Wh-why should someone have to die for me to feel safe?  I just wanted him caught, not dead!”  He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.  “All I’d planned on doing was force him to follow me back here, where I knew the territory as well, if not better, than he did.  I wanted him caught, not killed!”  He shook his head, lying it on his forearm with a sigh of frustration.  “Oh, God!” he groaned.  “I screwed up so bad!”

“You did what you had to, Hobson.”

Gary looked up at the two men standing by the entrance.  Parker and an older man he had never seen before stepped up to the counter.

“You stopped a terrorist plot that would have had a devastating effect on our country,” the bearded man told him in a deep, vibrant voice.  “Because of you, we have four men in custody who have already given us contacts in two other cells in Europe and the Middle East.  They even hinted at a group operating out of South Africa, although they’re a little ambiguous as to that group’s agenda.  Bradley Talmadge,” he said by way of introduction, extending his hand.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Hobson.”

Gary stared at the hand for a moment before hesitantly reaching out to shake it.  “I-I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he murmured.  “Are you . . . are you part of th-that, um, that ‘committee’ Parker was telling me about?”

“No,” Talmadge assured him.  “But, like Mr. Parker, I answer to them.  Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Gary shot Parker a quick glance, receiving a noncommittal shrug, before leading the way to his office.  Easing down into the chair behind his desk, Gary turned to face the two men, who each took a seat on the sofa.

“Before you say anything,” Gary told them, holding up his, well, least injured hand, “let me save you some time.  No.”

“No?” Talmadge murmured, puzzled.  “No what?  I haven’t asked you anything, yet.”

“I’m not going back to . . . wherever your project is located,” Gary elaborated.  “I don’t need your ‘committee’ dictating my actions.  I have enough bosses as it is, thank you.  And I don’t want your protection.  I’ve been that route before, and they’ll only get in my way.”

“You don’t know what we can offer you, Mr. Hobson,” Talmadge persisted.  “Not just protection.  Together, we can accomplish so much more than you can on your own!”

“But will you?” Gary retorted stiffly.  “I’m the first to admit that I’m not perfect.  And I certainly don’t have the kinda training Parker and Donovan have had, but I get out there everyday and do the best I can.  For everyone!  I didn’t sit on my hands last September and say, ‘Let’s see.  No world leaders get killed, or anyone else that the country, or the world can’t live without.  Too bad about the rest, but we‘re gonna sit this one out.’  I tried.  Almost got my head blown off, but I tried.  You had the power to stop it!  And you did nothing!  Not a damned thing because your committee said ‘hands off!’  I can’t live with decisions like that.  I can’t, and won’t, be shackled to a bunch of bureaucrats who can.”

Talmadge sat back with a sigh.  Parker had warned him of Hobson’s firm stance on that particular issue.  Truthfully, he had not been happy with the committee’s decision, either.  None of the Backstep team had taken it well.  Even Ramsey, who was so ‘by the book,’ he wouldn’t question his own execution, if it came to it, had pitched a desk lamp through one of the security monitors.  Parker, predictably, had chosen to get ripped and, with Donovan’s help, trashed a bar in Reno.

“They’re not going to be happy with your refusal,” he grumbled.

“You say that like I should care,” Gary snorted.  “I don’t.”  He tried to lever himself up from the chair, his movements hampered by his injuries.  “If that’s all you have to say, guys, then . . .”

“Easy, Hobson,” Frank chuckled, leaning back into the cushions.  “We can’t just sit and visit awhile?  Catch each other up on what’s happening?  We, um, we found the spot where we think Marley must’ve fallen.”

Gary slowly sank back down, his posture tense, wary.  “Wh-what did you . . . I mean, did you find h-his . . . body?”

“No,” Talmadge sighed.  “A pity, really.  I’d like to close the book on this one, but he apparently fell into a river.  His body may have been carried downstream for miles.”

Gary let out a huge sigh, closing his eyes as he practically collapsed against his desk.  “I almost wish you’d found him, ” he murmured.  “Dead, he’s out of my life forever.  At least, this way, though, there’s still a chance for him.”

“Excuse me?” his two visitors chorused.

“You sound like you hope he’s alive!” Parker grumbled irritably.  “Hobson, we’re talkin’ about the guy who tried to kill you!  Who carved little pieces off of you and fried you like a chicken!  He tried to wreck the Vice President’s train!  And he almost killed your cousin, thinking he was you!  Have I left anything out?”

“Well,” Gary murmured, “no.  For the sake of my family and friends, plus anyone else he might’ve set his sites on, I hope he’s roasting in Hell right now.  B-but some . . . small . . . tiny part of me does hope that he’s still alive.  I-I just think he’s entitled to his day in court.  Call me crazy . . .”

“That’s a given!” Parker snorted.

“But I still believe in justice,” Gary continued, ignoring the interruption.  “I know the system can be manipulated.  God, do I know that!” he added with a shudder.  “I just . . . I-if anyone ever deserved the death penalty, it’s Marley.  I just don’t feel comfortable with . . . I mean, I can live with what happened on the train.  I wasn’t trying to kill him, but I wasn’t in a position to save him, either.  It goes with what I’ve been trying to tell you guys all along.  Every life matters.  Even his.”

Parker nodded thoughtfully, remembering the look on Hobson’s face when that one man had died on top of him.  A man who had been involved in his kidnapping and torture.  Was there anything this man couldn’t forgive?

“You trying out for a role in ‘The Second Coming?’” Parker grumbled.

It was Gary’s turn to look confused.  “Run that by me again,” he suggested.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t you hold any grudges?” the agent asked.

“Sure,” was the quick reply.  “Put the bastard here in front of me and give me a TASER.  But, once the score is settled, what’s the point?  It’s not up to me to decide if Marley should live or die.  That’s what we have courts and juries for.”

“You are a most unusual man, Mr. Hobson,” Talmadge chuckled.  He held out his hand as he rose to go.  “It’s been a privilege to have met you.”

Gary took his hand in a firm grip, giving the man a fleeting smile.  “I’m just your average Joe,” he shrugged.  “Nothing special.  Why don’t you guys stick around for a while.  My folk’s ‘ve been asking about you, Frank.  They didn’t get much of a chance to talk with you the other night.”

“No,” Frank shuddered.  “They were too busy raking you over the coals.  Are they here?”

“They went to pick up my Aunt Rose at the airport,” Gary replied.  “She’s flying in from Santee, California.  They should be back any minute.  And Jake is bringing someone over for lunch.  That actor from the train, I think.  He mentioned something about a release.  God!  I wish I’d been paying more attention!  I’ve been trying to remember where I’ve seen that guy before.”

Frank looked startled at that.  True, Gary had been suffering a mild case of shock, at the time, but surely he had to have recognized such an internationally known celebrity!  Before he could say anything, there sounded a knock on the office door.  As Gary struggled to rise, the door was flung open and two tiny tornadoes swarmed into the room, knocking him back into his chair!  He barely had time to recognize the two-year old twin children of his best friend, Chuck Fishman, before the aforementioned friend poked his head into the room.

“Oh, there you are,” he said with an impish grin.  “You don’t mind watching the kids while I take their mom out to lunch, do ya, Gar?  There’s a pal.  See ya.”  He started to back out the door.

“Chuck Fishman!” Gary laughed, “get your sorry butt back in here!  Don’t you tell me you flew a coupla thousand miles to find a babysitter!”  He tried to lift little Alexandria onto one knee, only to have to look to Frank for help.  The agent was only too happy to oblige, taking the squirming child onto his own lap, giving Little Gary unimpeded access to his ‘uncle.’

Frank realized his mistake as he resumed his seat on the couch, where Talmadge smiled at this rather domestic scene.  As soon as the little boy had settled into Gary’s lap, the barkeep’s face took on a strange, faraway look, his smile becoming tight-lipped, strained.

Gary settled the wriggling toddler on his knee, hampered by having only limited use of his arms.  In truth, Little Gary didn’t look all that much like Geran, but that didn’t matter.  Big blue eyes looked up into his mud-puddle green ones, and the effect was like a sledgehammer to his gut.  For just a moment, he was back on the gravel bed of that train yard, looking up into eyes that mirrored his own.  He hugged the child closer, resting his chin in the soft blonde hair, and sighed wistfully.  Chuck, having had his fun, had followed the children into the office.  He took one look at Gary’s face and knew that something was not right.

“You okay, Gar?” he asked in concern.  “Is the kid too heavy for ya?”

“No,” Gary murmured.  “He’s fine.  So, um, what brings you guys in from the coast?  Another movie deal?”

“No, you big lug,” Chuck grumbled.  “I heard you were makin’ the rounds of the hospitals . . . again.  Thought I’d see how many bones you broke, this time.  Besides, Jade wanted to visit a few old friends.  The legit type.”

Gary had to grin at the hurried modifier.  Jade’s past was a little . . . murky, to say the least.

Marissa poked her head around the open door just enough to be heard clearly.  “Your other guests are here,” she murmured with a note of awe in her voice.  “Gary, why didn’t you warn me!  We could’ve had Carlos fix something special!”

“Warn you about what?” Gary asked, bewildered by her tone as much as her words.  He coaxed a disappointed Little Gary back to his father.  Little Gary wasn’t the only one frowning.   “He’s a guy I sorta met on the train.  He helped save my life and I’ve already told Carlos to fix something special!  Are Mom and Dad back yet?  I wanted them to meet him.”

“Not yet,” she replied.  “Gary, don’t you know who this is?”

“I don’t think he does,” Frank chuckled.  He set Alex down and gave Gary a hand getting up.  “He’s about to find out, though.”

Gary wore a suspicious look as he stepped through the office door, as if he thought his friends were pulling his leg.  He saw Jake standing over by the main bar, talking with a tall, slender man with his back to Gary.  The two were chuckling over some joke or chance remark while Jimmy was trying to pour a couple of beers without spilling them.  He wasn’t having much luck.  As Gary and his two visitors from Project Backstep approached, the front door opened to admit his gaily chattering mother and her older sister.  Bernie was bringing up the rear with a martyred look on his face.  Jake and Lois spotted Gary at the same time.  The banker waved his cousin over, turning to say something to his guest as he did so.  The actor turned, giving the young proprietor a warm smile.  Gary froze as he, at last, recognized his rescuer, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to think of something to say.  Something coherent, at least.  Lois and her sister stopped dead in their tracks, mouths falling open as they were struck speechless.

“Gary,” Jake said, flashing his stunned cousin a wicked grin, “let me introduce you to the man who saved our bacon the other night.  In spite of our having ruined a week’s worth of filming.  Gary Hobson, Frank Parker, Chuck Fishman, say hello to . . .”

“Antonio Banderas!” Aunt Rose cried.  She stood, transfixed, just a few feet away, her hand clutching at her breast.  “Oh, my Lord!” she exclaimed breathlessly.  “I loved you in ‘The Mask Of Zorro!’  And you were magnificent in ‘Original Sin!’  You absolutely took my breath away!”

“And ‘The Body.’  You were wonderful in that,” Lois sighed, her expression completely star struck.  “We’ve watched all of your movies, Mr. Banderas!”

Both women descended on the gently smiling man, pleading for autographs, and talking a mile a minute.  Banderas glanced at Jake, then Gary and gave a helpless shrug before giving Lois and Rose his full attention.

Gary waved the two agents over to a table, where Jake and Bernie soon joined them.  The young proprietor’s eyes were crinkled in amusement as he watched the two women fawning all over the man who had so obviously captured their hearts.  It would be a month before they’d be able to talk about anything other than this moment! 

“We might as well get comfortable,” he told the others, as he sat down.  “This may take awhile.”

**fin**

Email the author: Polgana54@cs.com
 

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