Amazon: Regenesis
by Itinerant
edited By Amelia R.
Amazon - Part 9: Dancing Queen
Biographer's Note: This is Nicole's story. It covers those events and people she finds notable in her life and chooses to share. If you have problems with it, take it up with her. I'm just a glorified stenographer.
Monday, February 5, 2001(84/51)
Washington, D.C.
9:00AM EST
The conference room quieted as Carson called the meeting to order. It was a sizable place, with two rows of tables facing the end of the room where two large projection screens hung. The projectors had been mounted on the ceiling and were controlled by a rack of equipment in the back left corner. A camera, mounted above the screen and in the middle of the wall, captured an image that was displayed on the left. A test pattern was displayed on the right where incoming feeds would appear.
The morning had been filled with meetings to filter the raw data from Los Angeles as the mysterious redhead had been found and followed. This meeting was to relay the initial report to the Chairman and consider how to proceed. Carson had come in early this morning to work on a written version of the report he would present this morning so the people at the main facility would have time to consider the information and develop questions.
After the internal discussions, Carson was hovering between relief and disappointment. Based on the initial video and verbal reports, this mystery woman was anything but the man-hating bitch they were looking for. The interactions between the redhead, the brunette, Kathryn Tanner, and Kathryn's boyfriend Alexander, were pretty typical for a college-age couple and their female friend.
The right screen flickered and steadied as an image appeared. The scene was of a similar room; only the faces in the seats differed. The Central Committee Chairman, the Security Officer, and his assistant were present, but to the left of the picture and in the back of the room. Carson gulped, gathered himself, and began his briefing.
"Good morning. Our objective for this meeting is to present a preliminary report based on the surveillance of the subject over the weekend in Los Angeles. She's our only candidate at the moment due to the timing of her hiring at a company known to be partially owned by Artemis. We're still attempting to gain access to the computer systems at that company to determine if there's any useful data, but so far their firewall is proving effective.
"Our efforts to gain information through the vending service staff have been a little more successful. They gathered the data on the subject's itinerary that permitted us to pick up observation on her arrival in L.A., and have subsequently heard that Dr. Michael Wing made the employment offer himself. We're trying to determine whether the offer was instigated by Artemis.
"The initial report from the L.A. office has been received and so far the behavior of the subject is not what we had expected based on the profile we were provided. We will take steps to broaden our surveillance to make sure we're not missing anything, and we will also be identifying and searching her motel room for any clues."
There was a pause before anyone spoke.
"Have you considered more direct access to the WGSS facility? I'm sure there are specialists who could acquire the information if they had direct access to the systems of interest."
"We've considered it, but until we have more reason to do so we'd rather not be that obvious or burn assets unnecessarily."
"And your current evaluation of the situation?" The slightly accented voice of the Chairman forestalled any other questions for a moment.
"Sir, at the moment we don't know enough to make an intelligent decision. The subject, so far, does not act in a way consistent with what the profile lead us to expect. It could be a deliberate attempt to divert attention on her part, so we will be continuing our observations over the entire three weeks she's scheduled to be in Los Angeles. We might have enough data for a preliminary evaluation by next week, but we know she'll be in LA for three weeks and in Fairfax for another four. By the end of that time we should be able to decide one way or the other without guessing."
"Very well. I'll expect updates at this time each week."
"Yes, sir. We'll file reports each Sunday evening, California time or Eastern time depending on where the subject is, and we'll plan on a video conference at this time each Monday."
The Chairman nodded at someone off screen and the video channel cut off.
Carson suddenly realized how tense he'd been as the muscles in his neck and shoulders unwound. He stood at his chair and faced his team.
"Okay, we'll reconvene at one o'clock for the phone conference with LA. In the meantime, make another pass through the video and stills; if there are any clues, we need to find them. I don't want to be following a redheaded herring and leave a shark unwatched."
Los Angeles, CA.
8:30AM PST
The stakeout team had taken over from the first watch at the parking spot that permitted a good view of the only exits from the hotel grounds. The information provided indicated they'd need to be ready to follow the target today; she was here for dance classes, but no one knew where the studio was located.
The teams had requested and received approval for a tracking device that could be mounted on the rental car. The schedule during the week probably wouldn't be a problem, but if she took off during the weekend they needed to be able to keep track of her location. With luck, the device would be arriving by express shipping tomorrow.
"She's on her way to her car. Heads up."
The driver turned the ignition key. They needed to be able to take off immediately. Of course, she took off north out of the parking lot; they had to quickly make a U-turn and scrambled to get back within visual range as she cruised up Beverly.
~I hate stakeouts.~
They finally reached their preferred tailing position, just in time to see their target make a right hand turn. They passed a dance studio and made the same turn they'd seen their subject make. The car wasn't in sight as they came around the corner to Dayton Way. They slowly started down the street and spotted the car making its way down the alley toward the parking area behind the buildings on Beverly.
The man on the passenger side quickly jumped out to follow the subject, as the driver continued down the street. He'd make his way around the block and rejoin his partner.
Los Angeles, CA
8:30AM PST
~New hotel; same old routine.~ she thought.
By now the schedule was familiar enough. The alarm had sounded at five o'clock local time, and, after a cold washcloth to help wake up, Nicole headed for the fitness room for as much of a workout as possible. This morning it had taken a couple of extra minutes to locate the fitness room, which was a bit of a disappointment. There were free weights, rather than the weight machines at Dana Point, and the weight available would be a minimal problem even if a non-Amazon were in the room. Nicole looked around, deciding to limit her weight levels to no more than a couple of hundred pounds just in case someone came in unexpectedly. With the lower weight levels, she chose to run through a longer series of lifts, relying on the longer duration to make up for the weight deficiency. Her morning run was about normal length and speed—higher than most people could manage for the duration, but by no means superhuman.
An hour and a half after she had left her room, she trotted back for a shower and clean clothes.
She had taken some time this morning as she pondered the clothing selections for the day. With dancing class, she would no doubt want to wear heels. There was no point in learning with shoes she wouldn't wear to a dance. On the other hand, there was no way she'd wear heels for almost eight hours of lessons without something to change into for lunch and between lessons.
First, she thought, was the choice of clothing. She looked over the selections, limited though they were.
~Jeans are out for today, at least. That's a little too informal without being sure it's appropriate.~ She flicked the hanger to one side and looked at the pantsuit briefly before it joined the jeans.. ~Nope. I want a little more freedom of movement, so it has to be a skirt.~ As she isolated the skirts on their hangers, she considered her reaction.
She finally settled on the gray skirt and white blouse combination; it was as short a skirt as she had—that she'd wear to the studio anyway—and would be comfortable even on this warm day if she left the jacket off. ~Two months and two weeks, roughly,~ she thought. ~Just about seventy-five days and I'm getting there, little by little.~
She stood in the bathroom and leaned over the sink as she put on a little makeup, keeping it to the minimum for daytime. It took only a few more minutes more to put her pantyhose, blouse, and skirt on. She had chuckled as she slid the hose up her legs and recalled the utter disaster of that morning in Virginia; she was pleased that no hose fell victim to errant fingernails today. At last, she took a brush to her hair, smoothing the wild disorder into something easily gathered into a convenient ponytail for the day. She stepped back from the counter and took a good look at her appearance.
~I'd never have imagined it, but,~ she smoothed the skirt with her hands and smiled, ~I really like the way I look.~ She reached for the jewelry selected for the day, grinning at herself as she fumbled a little with an earring. The necklace and bracelet took moments longer; finally, she stepped out of the bathroom into the main area.
She looked around the room one last time as she stepped into her black flats. She'd taken one of the laundry bags and put her heeled shoes in them for later. Grabbing her purse, she reached for the doorknob. She stopped before opening it and turned back to pull the scepter out of its hiding place. It rode securely in an inner pocket of her coat as she finally left the room for breakfast.
~I regretted not having it when I ran across Judith. I guess I'd better learn how to carry it with me.~ She thought for a minute. ~I wonder if I can start wearing one of those coats like they used in the 'Highlander' movies?~ She giggled briefly at the thought of reaching into her coat and confronting someone with—her stick.
~It lacks something in intimidation factor.~ More snickers escaped as she walked down to the restaurant.
Breakfast was tasty; the hot buffet was well stocked, and the selection of fruits was as varied as she'd seen anywhere. One or two of the fruits were unfamiliar and a small sample of each was included as she filled her plate, as were some others that Tom had tried and rejected.
~Who knows how my taste buds will react now?~
Nicole found she still needed to make an effort to restrain the ingrained habits of her male life as she ate. ~Small bites,~ she reminded herself. Tom could take big bites; that wasn't ladylike, so she mustn't.
~Why not?~ The thought wandered in from a corner of her mind.
~Because I AM a woman now, and need to blend in. If not for my own well-being, then for Kate's safety.~ came the determined response. ~Even if it means putting up with looks from the businessmen having breakfast.~ The oddest aspect of that train of thought was her uncertainty about how she wanted to react.
~Am I making my life more stressful than it needs to be? Can I live with the idea of being attracted to women in my head, and my body reacting to men? Can I just relax, accept I'm functionally bi-sexual, and just quit worrying about the plumbing arrangements?~ Her ponytail swung as she shook her head in confusion. It had been weeks since she'd taken time in the shower to—explore, and she was finding herself antsy of late. On the other hand, she was a bit hesitant to find out what kind of pictures would flit through her mind as she tried to relieve the sexual tension that was building.
Shaking off the topic, she watched the news and took time to ponder what the next three weeks held. She'd spend time with Kate on the weekend, probably. She also wanted to get to know Alex a lot better. Kate was in love with him and sooner or later, he'd find out, or need to be told, about the Amazons.
She also paid attention to the antics in Washington, as the new Bush Administration put its list of candidates forward for confirmation. ~What they're doing, I'll have to do before too many years pass. I might as well try to learn from their mistakes. Why can't a new administration avoid making the same stupid mistakes?~
She finished up her breakfast, still bemused by how little she even wanted to eat, and signed the charge slip to place the meal on her room bill before standing and making her way to the lobby. The concierge was setting up for the day as Nicole approached.
"Excuse me; could you help me with some directions?"
The concierge, a young Asian woman about Nicole's own age, looked up.
"Certainly. Do you have an address?"
Nicole provided the information and was informed that the place was less than a mile away.
"It's just north of here on the street out front, which is named Beverly Drive. As you leave the parking lot, make a right turn and keep going until you cross Wilshire. I think the parking is in the rear of the building, so you'll need to go past it and find the parking access off Dayton Way."
The tall woman looked over the map used as a reference. "So I just need to make sure I stay on Beverly until I have to go right and then expect to bear slightly to the left when the road crosses Wilshire. That should be easy enough. Thank you. You've been very helpful." She turned a bright smile of thanks to the shorter woman. The redhead walked out of the lobby, her hair swinging as she remembered at the last minute how she was supposed to walk.
The sky was clear, and traffic was moderate as far as Nicole was concerned. Only a mile separated her from her destination, so there was no hurry as she turned right out of the parking lot, heading north.
There was plenty of parking behind the building, once she found the alley around the corner, and she parked near a line of trees that bounded the southeast side of the lot. A couple of minutes later she found herself in the reception area of the dance studio.
A young man sat at the desk with his attention focused on the computer monitor until her entry rang the chime above the door. The area was clean and bright with the morning light reflected from buildings across the road through the large plate glass windows.
"Welcome to our dance studio. My name is Nick. May I help you?" His voice was a mellow tenor; both his voice and smile were warm, and echoed his underlying emotional state.
"Yes, my name is Nicole Harrison. I believe I'm booked for lessons here for the next three weeks."
He turned back to the computer and clicked a few times with his mouse. "Yes, Ms Harrison. You're signed up for the Full Bronze program for nine dances. Eight have been pre-selected by your company; the ninth is free for you to choose. I have a list here of the available choices, and the list of dances already selected for you." He handed her a sheet of paper.
She scanned the document. "So I will be taking lessons for the Fox Trot, Waltz, Viennese Waltz, Eastern Swing, Quickstep, West Coast Swing, Rumba, and Slow Dance." She gave him a baffled look. "I hope there will be an explanation of what this all means."
He chuckled. "You aren't the first person in that situation. We have a brochure that will help." He handed her a colorful, folded sheet that listed the dances taught at the studio and categorized them.
Nicole looked over the brochure and cross-checked the listing with the lessons already selected. After pondering the choices, she looked up again. "I think I'd like to add Progressive Line Dance as the last selection. I can't say I'm a fan, but that covers the Country and Western music world in case I need it."
Nick nodded and made a notation on the computer. "Alright, I have your full schedule set up. You'll be taking six private lessons per day, three in the morning and three in the afternoon, from nine o'clock until four o'clock. In addition, there will be six group lessons in the evening. One lesson is held each Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday from seven-thirty to eight-fifteen. There are two lessons, from seven-thirty until nine o'clock, on Thursday. This week, even though you're just starting, I'd still recommend attending the Advanced Technique class on Wednesday. You can just watch and pick up useful information for next week when you've gained some experience.
"We strongly recommend, though it isn't required, that you attend the dance party that is held each Friday from eight-fifteen until nine o'clock. It's intended for some extra practice in a fun setting."
She shrugged. "I'm across the country from home, so I might as well put my time to good use while I'm here. Do I need to sign up for the party?"
"Yes, but I'll handle that right now." Clickety-click "Okay! You're all set as far as signing in. Now about shoes and clothing, I recommend you dress comfortably for the lessons. Most students manage to fall once or twice early on, so I wouldn't recommend wearing a mini skirt." He chuckled, as did Nicole, at the image deliberately invoked. "I'd really recommend comfortable jeans other than on Friday night. You need to wear the shoes you expect to dance in, whether they're heels or not."
She held up her bag. "I thought that might be the case, so I brought some heels with me."
He nodded and looked up at the clock. "It's just nine o'clock, and time for your first lesson, which is the Fox Trot. If you'd come with me, I'll introduce you to your instructor. Later this morning will be the Waltz and Viennese Waltz lessons. This afternoon, you will have Eastern Swing, Quickstep, and West Coast Swing. You'll work hard, but have fun, too."
The instructor, Abraham Kendall, was a couple of inches shorter than Nicole even without her heels. He gave a brief introduction to the dance and its history, and covered the four steps that would be covered in the class.
Abe started out with a warning. "One thing I don't want is for you to watch your feet. You'll make mistakes, but it's like touch typing—you won't be as good as you can be if you're trying to watch what you're feet are doing. Keep your head up and eyes on me."
The remainder of the class was spent introducing the basic pattern, and trying the step for both leading and following. Nicole found she was able to either keep track of the step, or stay in time with the music. The worst part of the lesson was keeping her head up and seeing the flicker of pain in Abe's face when she stepped on his foot.
At the end of the forty-five minute lesson, he reviewed what she'd done well—being overly generous in her mind—and outlined what was coming up in the next Fox Trot lesson.
"Will you warn the next instructor to wear their steel-toed safety shoes?" she asked with a slight blush.
He grinned. "I also teach the Waltz, so I'll consider myself warned."
Nicole returned the grin and said, "I'll look the other way if you want to run."
"No, I enjoy a challenge. You have the physical ability to perform any of these dances. I have the privilege of showing you how to do them. Now you have about ten minutes if you want something to drink, then we'll get started on the next lesson."
Washington, D.C.
1:00PM EST/10:00AM PST
The LA office had just dialed in. This meeting wouldn't be a video conference, but the multiple mikes made the room ideal for the call.
"I know you've hardly had time to gather new data," Carson began, "or do more useful processing of the information you had, but I want to make these a regular event until the target leaves LA. We've reviewed your video and transcripts. Do you have anything new to add?"
Diego responded for the remote office. "We now know where the dance lessons are being held. We have a team on standby to install a video pickup in the place tonight, so we can keep an eye on things without having to run the risk of putting a face in there that she'll recognize later. We also have a team ready to do a search of her hotel room as soon as the opportunity presents itself."
"Are the investigations into the other people she's come in contact with making progress?"
"We've completed the first pass on each of them. We've compiled the reports and placed them on the server."
"That's good. We'll look them over. Continue with your surveillance, but make sure you aren't caught."
"Trust us, we're good at what we do."
"If there's nothing else, we'll let you get on about your business. If you need some additional resources to complete the background checks, you can call Asok and use some of the people at this office."
"Will do, boss."
Los Angeles, CA
10:00AM PST
The Waltz lesson went about the same as the Fox Trot lesson had. Nicole struggled to get her body moving in time to the music and with the proper steps. ~Just another example of the fact that I still have to work to learn.~
The after-Waltz review was similar to the after-Fox Trot review. There was a lot of work to do, but this was just the beginning.
The Viennese Waltz lesson actually went better than the Waltz lesson had gone. Having been introduced to the basic steps, this second round permitted her to focus more on timing than the step. She found that, despite the faster pace, the extra pass through the steps started to get the muscles accustomed to the moves and pacing of the dance. The second lesson ended with less pain for Abe and less stress for Nicole. She kept losing the timing of the music, but wasn't losing the step as often.
She felt herself relaxing toward the end of the second lesson, slowly becoming aware of the pleasant sensations of physical contact as they practiced the dance steps. She tensed at the reaction and lurched a bit as she fought to refocus on the dance.
She was grateful when the lesson was over, and it was time for lunch. Abe extended an invitation to join a couple of the instructors at a nearby restaurant where they served Italian cuisine. It was a block or two away, but the weather was warm and the walk pleasant.
11:45AM PST
Diego Derbez stood at the window of his office, looking out over the smog-choked city. It had been his home for most, but not all, of his life. He recalled the trip across the border from so many years ago. His family had been locked into the shipping container, and he had seen his parents and siblings sweltering and gasping in the intense heat. His father had sworn that they'd never suffer like that again.
He'd grown up in the dark underside of the Southern California urban society, scrambling for every chance to get a little further away from the raw edge of survival. His parents had demanded, at times with a leather strap, that he attend to his schoolwork.
"I won't have you screwing up like those fools you run with. You'll get out of this hole and make something of yourself if I have to beat you RAW!"
There were still scars from the beatings, but now, with hindsight, he saw they had been right in their insistence on school. He'd actually managed to earn a diploma and then rode an academic scholarship to UCSD.
He'd pursued a business degree, with a history minor, and had signed up with a small company in Los Angeles during the economic boom of the 1990's. Unfortunately, his company had lost several major, lucrative contracts later in the decade. He'd blamed the losses on the fact that the other company's CEO was a woman, overriding his firm's superior bids.
During a late night visit to his favorite bar, one of his local drinking buddies mentioned someone who might be able to help get a little back from the arrogant bitches who were making his life miserable—who had cut his bonus to nearly nothing that year.
Three weeks later, he had begun his career with Hunter Security.
He grinned as he looked outside. The job had turned into a perfect match for his skills and drive for revenge. The early days of the 'dot-bomb' had, supposedly, disrupted that former competitor. She'd never figured out who had tweaked the contents of that financial report.
She'd be out of prison in another four years, maybe less with good behavior.
His chuckle echoed quietly in his office as he savored the memory.
1:00PM PST
Nicole returned to the studio ready for the afternoon's first lesson on Eastern Swing. Abe was replaced by Kent O'Neill for the three afternoon lessons; he proved to be as resilient as Abe, but was a bit more intense and focused on the task. Kent also emphasized the need to keep her attention up at her partner from the beginning. He led her slowly through the steps, gradually increasing the pace until she managed three correct executions of the steps at full tempo. He moved on to the next part of the lesson, repeating the process for each new increment.
He followed a similar plan with the other afternoon sessions, as he covered first the Quickstep, and then West Coast Swing. At the end of the afternoon, Kent and Abe sat down with her and reviewed the day's successes and problems.
Kent nodded as he closed the day. "Overall, you're making good progress. Your coordination is excellent, and you seem to retain the required footwork. You need more practice to smooth out the dances, and you have more to learn, but I think you'll easily complete the course in the time available. The only caution I'd make is that you need to work on not getting distracted until the steps become automatic."
Nicole fought the blush that heated her cheeks as she recalled the reason for her 'distraction'. "I'll try harder to focus. Tomorrow's new dances will be Rumba, Slow Dance, and Line Dance, right? Then we go back to the first three from today?"
Abe nodded. "I'll have you tomorrow afternoon and we'll do a quick review before starting in on new material. Kent will be handling the morning lessons."
She shook hands with the two men and waved to Nick as she headed out the door.
The team sat quietly in the car as they waited for their relief or the reappearance of the subject.
Finally, just after four o'clock and just when their replacements had appeared, the tall redhead exited the building and made her return to the hotel. The two teams scrambled to follow, and finally had time for the formal hand-off after she disappeared into the lobby.
Nicole made her way back to the hotel without incident, other than an interminable wait for the traffic to clear long enough for her to turn into the hotel parking lot. As she finally locked the door to her room, she collapsed onto the couch. Her shoes dropped to the floor and she tucked her legs up onto the couch, rubbing the ache out of her poor, abused feet.
~I'm not sure I'll live long enough to get used to those high heels.~ She moaned a little as she hit a particularly sore spot.
The late afternoon was a nice break from the physical activity of the day, and Nicole had time to relax before the restaurant opened for dinner at five. The veal was tender, though not in the same league as the meal she'd had with Judith. She found herself thinking back to her visit to England and wondered what Judith would do about the call she'd received.
The sun was dropping quickly toward the horizon as she reentered her room. ~I should leave by seven, so I have maybe an hour and a half.~ She looked longingly at the bathtub. ~If I set the alarm, I could soak for a while.~
A few minutes later, she lowered herself slowly into the tub. Her travel alarm was sitting on the counter and far enough away that she'd have to actually get out of the tub to turn it off. The water was on the verge of being too hot, but the heat quickly soaked into her aching feet and legs and began to relieve the discomfort.
Nicole lay there, soaking in the heat and drifting in the haze at the edge of sleep until the alarm began its annoying, high-pitched 'beepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeep'. Despite the death glare she sent its way, it stubbornly refused to go silent or disintegrate. She reluctantly dragged herself from the warm comfort of the tub and grabbed a towel, resisting the temptation to smack the noisemaker into oblivion.
She slipped into her panties and bra, then grabbed her jeans from the closet and slid them on. They were joined shortly by the light-green blouse she'd worn on her shopping trip with Kate. The little voice in her head that sounded like Kate stopped her as she prepared to tuck in the garment. With a sigh, she tied the garment in a midriff-baring fashion; at least it was warmer today.
The evening went somewhat as expected at the group lesson for beginners, and the imbalance in numbers between men and women required an unconventional pairing or two. Kent O'Neill was conducting the session and ended with Nicole and another young woman after pairing the available men. His hesitation was visible as he contemplated the potential damage to a profitable contract if he mishandled the situation, but the redhead was much taller than any of the available men.
"Nicole? We have more women than men in this class. Are you willing to be paired with Kim for the evening?"
The 'Kim' in question was an Asian woman who could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five years old. She was easily a foot shorter than Nicole, which was likely to be a problem given where her face would end up. The tall redhead looked for a moment at Keith, then at Kim who looked a bit uncertain herself.
"We'll give it a shot. If it doesn't work, we can try something different."
Kim was still looking worried, but Keith made sure to circulate by the pair more frequently during the lesson; he also made a point of switching the leading role from time to time.
"Nicole, you're tall enough that you will inevitably find yourself dancing with someone shorter than you are in heels. This is a good chance to learn how to cope with that situation."
Kim gradually relaxed as the time passed; Nicole found her mind was all-too-frequently short-circuited by the utterly necessary touch of a soft, warm hand on the bare skin of her back or side. The only good side was that, by the end of the lesson, she was less affected by the contact. There was still an uncomfortably moist feeling between her legs, however. The situation wasn't helped by the speculative looks from her dance partner.
She didn't spend much time socializing after the lesson; the jetlag was still a problem as she forced herself to stay awake as long as possible. On top of it all, her reaction to having Kim in her arms during the dancing left her struggling again. She was able to relax enough to get to sleep, but only well after the light had been turned off.
The late afternoon watch had been dull. She had stayed in her room, taking only a short trip to the restaurant to eat, then, at about seven o'clock she left again. She returned to the dance studio where she stayed until about eight fifteen, returning directly to the hotel. She was followed by the new shift of watchers that had come on duty at eight.
"She's dragging a little tonight."
"She just got back from a week in London. She's not doing badly considering."
The passenger side door opened briefly. "I'll watch the room light and give you a yell when it goes out. Do you want over or under on nine o'clock for the coffee tonight?"
"I'll take over. She'll try to force her adjustment to the time zone before the weekend."
"I hate to give it to you, but I think you're right. You like your coffee black?"
Tuesday, February 6, 2001
Los Angeles, CA
12:30AM PST
The dance studio had shut down for the night hours before, and the little shops next door had finally gone dark and silent.
The team moved in with practiced efficiency through the warm Southern California night; they climbed to the roof to avoid discovery by passers-by, and the security system was bypassed in seconds as they entered the top floor storage area. They were professionals, and there was an economy of movement that reflected their experience.
It took two hours to make the installations: two cameras in each of the private lesson areas, plus two more in the main dance studio, would provide complete coverage. They also added the compression and transmission equipment and their wiring to an obscure junction box for power. They took time to check for any other rooms that might be of interest, but found only office space and restrooms.
As the video team worked, a second team managed to pull the lesson plans for Nicole Harrison off the computer system and copy them to a floppy. Having a schedule would be helpful in planning their operations.
Tomorrow they would have a lot of video to watch, but there would be no guesswork about what was happening inside the building.
Fairfax, VA
WGSS Offices
9:00AM EST
"Alright, everyone. Let's get started." Joanne Bankhead began.
She had been appointed as the CEO of Wing several years before, and had never liked meetings that started late or ran longer than absolutely necessary. She'd been hired in through the teams and had been quickly dragged, fighting hard at times, into positions of responsibility. Dr. Wing himself had finally 'invited' her into his office and forced her into a choice.
"Joanne, I can find people to staff up the teams at any good university. A good portion of those will function reasonably well as team leaders. You, on the other hand, have a gift for leading that is rare. You were chosen early on as someone I wanted to run this company, and I admit I pushed you hard to develop your skills. It's your choice, but you'll be wasting your talent if you say no."
She'd wrestled with the decision for another week, but finally accepted the new position and quickly put her own unique stamp on the operation. The demand for prompt and efficient meetings was only the first.
The agenda was pre-published and adhered to; if there was something new to cover that wouldn't fit in the allotted time, a new meeting was scheduled and all pertinent information distributed ahead of time.
Amelia wrapped up the meeting with her department's monthly report. "... so based on the current growth rate of storage requirements, we have time to start our procurement process and have the new equipment in place before our worst case need date." She checked the item off her list of topics to cover.
"Regarding the security concerns about the continuing attack on our firewall, we've managed to track back to a second layer of controlling systems, but they're still in the same countries as the first set. Our defensive measures are working, and so far, we've managed to maintain normal communication with our field teams.
"We still don't know who it is, or why they're doing it, but we're looking."
Joanne inquired, "Is there anything one of us could do that would help nail down the guilty party? Any extra resources or contacts you need us to pull in?"
It took only moments for Amelia to begin shaking her head 'No'. "We've talked about it within the department, and we've used some—unofficial channels—to try to ID the problem source. If the situation changes, I'll let you know. For now it would be wasted effort."
Joanne nodded. "If anyone comes up with an idea, talk to Amelia and don't wait for the next meeting. If there's nothing else, then I'll see you all next month."
David Sterling closed on Amelia as they left the room. "Amelia," David began, "are you sure there's nothing we can do to help? I still have a few contacts from my younger days."
"I'm not even sure it's more than some 'script kiddies' running amok, but if you want to pass the raw data along you can have it. I'll drop you an e-mail with the info attached."
A little later, David was making a phone call to an old friend. "Gerard! David Stirling. It's good to speak with you again. How are Anna and Melissa? ... Good. Gerard, I have a couple of things I'd like you to check out for me, a little special project, if you have a little time, of course...."
Los Angeles, CA
8:40AM PST
The first daylight watch was settled into their place—northward bound this time—as the now familiar Grand Prix headed out with its red haired driver at the wheel. They waited before pulling out into the flow of traffic about a block behind.
Today was lower stress; at least they were starting in the right direction and had a good idea where she was headed.
Once again, they ended their travel at the dance studio, and took up watch in the parking area. With a flip of a switch, they activated the video feeds in the studio and the recorder in the car. A small screen hung between the seats allowed them to watch the split screen feed and keep an ear on the audio. The two settled in for the remainder of their shift, watching as their subject began the day's lessons.
Los Angeles, CA
9:00AM PST
Nicole greeted Nick, who again sat at the desk, with a smile and wave as she walked in. She wasn't as tired as she'd expected after the hard time getting to sleep last night and was looking forward to the classes today.
Kent was ready to begin promptly on the hour, and began the first lesson for the morning. By the time the first half-hour had elapsed, Nicole was convinced that the rumba was God's gift to dance. The combination of energy and eroticism was heady as she assimilated the basic figures and the underarm turns.
Nicole's nerves were singing by the end of the lesson, and Kent actually smiled as they reviewed what had been covered and the lessons to come.
"You seem to have enjoyed this dance," he said, "and it showed. If you show the same enthusiasm for the rest of the dances, you'll finish the work a week ahead of time."
She shook her head. "I know you've had dances that just seemed natural for you from the first step. I don't know why, but the rumba just seemed to flow for me like walking or breathing." She inhaled deeply, expanding her chest in a fashion that, quite unintentionally, rattled Kent's equanimity. "I know I have to move on to the next lesson, but I really could do that dance all day."
At ten o'clock, Kent began instructing his tall student in the slow dance, which proved to be much easier on the libido. The basic figure was well in hand by the end of the lesson; he covered the reverse basic as time ran out. The slow dance was rather boring after spending time on the rumba, and Nicole settled on using it as a reward for herself for working hard on the rest of her lessons.
Kent, eyeing the six-foot four-inch height of his high-heeled student as they wrapped up the review, commented that the underarm turns were likely to be difficult unless he found a taller instructor for a day or so. His five-ten would force an awkward reach to even emulate the turn.
She looked down at him, amused at his dilemma. "Shall I ditch the heels for that lesson?" she asked, giggling a little at the frustrated glare the question earned.
The progressive line dance was—okay. It didn't seem a huge challenge, and country music would never rank high on Nicole's personal 'Top 40', but at least she'd be able to mix effectively in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.
~Bleah!~
The surveillance team quickly found themselves shifting uncomfortably in their seats. The lithe athleticism of the woman they were watching made the rumba lessons a ... stimulating experience. She was obviously enjoying the lesson, based on the expression on her face.
The slow dance lesson wasn't much better, but it at least wasn't quite so expressive, and the line dancing lesson was mild in comparison, finally giving them some relief from the visual stimulations.
The noon shift picked up the chase, as the redhead joined the pack of dance instructors as they made their way to a nearby restaurant for lunch. The in-car video camera was called into service again as they gathered information, while wishing they had the freedom to use a parabolic mike to pick up the conversations. Fortunately, even the facial expressions of the group had proven useful in gauging the general trend of conversation.
The group chatted, amiably it seemed, as they consumed their meals before gathering themselves for the walk back to the studio. The watchers followed to make sure of the final destination and settled in for an afternoon of watching.
The first lesson was a step neither of the automobile's occupants was familiar with. The last two, as far as they could tell, were waltzes of some sort. It was obvious that she was a beginner as there was a cry of pain once or twice from her partner.
They chuckled at the mishaps as the lessons continued.
The 'lunch-bunch', as Nicole was coming to view them, returned from the local pizza shop and dispersed to their duties. Nicole and Abe began the afternoon with the scheduled Fox Trot lesson, which went surprisingly well.
The waltzes, on the other hand, were still a work in progress, and Abe found his feet the unwilling target of Nicole's errant footwork at times.
5:30PM PST
Nicole was settling in to check her e-mail after a quick meal at the restaurant when her cell phone warbled.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Nicole!"
The redhead grinned at the sound of her sister Amazon, and dear friend, Kate. "Hey, Kate! It's good to hear from you. What's up?" She dropped onto the couch, curling her feet up under her as she got comfortable.
"Mom was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow."
"I have an evening lesson at seven-thirty. If that isn't a problem, I'd love the company; what time should I be there?"
"Around five-thirty. I'll be home by then, and Mom works from home, so we can lend a hand. Dad has a Toastmasters meeting, so he's eating out. Oh! A week from Saturday, the seventeenth, is the monthly get together at the Key Club. You're welcome to come again if you want."
The two chatted until Kate was informed that she was needed - NOW - in the kitchen.
There was an 'Eeep!', followed by a 'Bye!', and Nicole was left chuckling and listening to a dial tone.
Wednesday, February 7, 2001
Los Angeles, CA
As on the previous day, the pretty young woman left the studio after her last lesson at four o'clock and made her way back to the hotel. The teams were talking about combing through each shift's video and stills for a 'Best Picture' competition.
They'd have to be professional, but there was no reason not to have a little fun as long as it helped focus their attention on the subject of interest.
5:30PM PST
Nicole stopped her car in the driveway, parking behind Kate's little Saturn. She was in her jeans and blouse, topped with a jacket to ward off the occasional rain that was pelting the city. Scampering up to the doorway, the redhead sheltered under the archway as she rang the doorbell. Kate pulled open the door and soon the three women were in the kitchen, with Nicole giving her hostesses a quick update on how the week had gone.
The menu made heavy use of the seafood that was so readily available, and reasonably fresh, in the area. Marie had steamed some fresh vegetables, and they sat down to a perfect California meal.
"So, Nicole," Marie said as they began eating, "I'll bet you're looking forward to getting back and settling in at home for a little while. All this traveling must be wearing on you."
"I suppose." She shrugged, picking at some broccoli. "I only moved into Fairfax the day before I reported to work, so I don't know anyone there, yet. I am getting travel-weary, but for now it's just the way it has to be. I guess I should be grateful I don't have a family to complicate the situation." The smile she put on her face was unconvincing.
Kate raised an eyebrow. "And just what am I? Chopped liver?"
Nicole looked over at her, noting Marie's attentive gaze at the two of them. "Kate, I've told you before how I feel about you. I was thinking of being married and having a spouse and children and the impact all this travel would have on them. After all, how would Alex feel about having you away from home for six weeks or so?"
Kate stopped chewing as she considered the question. "I'm guessing he wouldn't like it, any more than I would."
The redhead nodded. "Long trips, or even a lot of shorter trips that add up, can be hard on a relationship."
"You sound as if you have some experience with that situation, Nicole." Marie broke into the thread of the conversation. She was focused on their guest.
"Remember what I said about my father being in the Navy? That's a perfect example of what I mean." Marie and Kate both nodded. "It's a question of whether you're willing to pay the price for the work in your relationships. You're lucky, Kate, that you've had a lot of time to build a solid friendship with Alex. That will help, but won't solve all the problems."
"So much wisdom from one so young." Marie mused quietly; she returned the quizzical looks from her daughter and guest with a calmly thoughtful one.
"So," Kate broke in to change the subject, "what are you up to for the weekend, Nicole?"
Grinning, the redhead replied, "I don't have any plans—or do I have some that you just haven't gotten around to telling me about?"
Kate suggested a shopping trip to equip Nicole for the monthly group visit next week. "We can also make an appointment for us at the salon to get our hair done. I know you haven't had a chance with all the traveling you've been doing."
The arrangements were made to meet between nine and nine-thirty at the Tanner house as the three finished their meal. By the time they were done, and cleanup was complete, it was time for Nicole to head off to the evening's class. A quick round of farewell hugs later, she was out the door.
7:30PM PST
The day had gone normally, with the morning and afternoon lessons broken only by lunch with the staff and a visit to the Tanner home. Unlike the previous evenings where she took the group lessons in stride, the techniques this evening seemed to leave her a little dazed and confused.
Nicole stood by the side of the studio, at first. The group lesson for the evening was 'Advanced Techniques', and she just stood back and listened as conversations flowed between people who obviously knew each other. The terminology was as opaque as a wall.
Abe and Kent were both in attendance this evening, and spent the first few minutes arranging the students in pairs. They began the class with a demonstration of the evening's techniques, then started the students working in their pairs.
Nicole found herself looking up, in heels, for the first time. Abe had looked around for a couple of minutes when she walked in, spoke briefly to Kent, and then had introduced her to her lesson partner.
"Nicole, this is Richard MacLeod. He's been taking lessons here for a few months and will be your dance partner for tonight. Richard, this is Nicole Harrison. She just started her lessons this week."
Richard looked down at the slightly shorter woman with a grin. "I'll consider myself warned, Abe." Holding out his hand, he addressed his partner for the evening, "I'm pleased to meet you, Nicole. I usually go by 'Rich'."
He was easily six and a half feet tall, with black hair and facial features that looked as if they could have been carved by a sculptor. He was dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved, turquoise dress shirt. His dark eyes seemed alight with humor. "Shall we?" he asked, extending an elbow to lead her to the floor. She twined an arm in his and followed him.
He stopped in an open area, and they took their position for the first part of the lesson.
"I'll have to apologize in advance for the pain in your foot," she said. "Poor Abe has tried to get me to the point where he doesn't get hurt, but we aren't there yet."
His smile was warm, and full of confidence. "I'm sure you'll do fine, and if not," he shrugged, "I'm a big boy."
She couldn't resist the warmth and good humor he radiated; he had the feel of a long time friend. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh?" she said with a little smirk.
The faint tinge of a blush rose briefly on his cheeks, but he still returned her smirk with a grin. "Ahem! Behave yourself; it isn't nice to embarrass your dance partner! It can be hazardous to your toes." He made a show of stepping on her toes, and she squeaked as she pulled the target out of range.
Nicole's response was cut off by the beginning of the lessons.
The forty-five minutes evaporated, it seemed. Nicole had spent the entire time with Rich, and it had been a joy and delight. The first fifteen minutes were a bit rough as they adjusted to each other's movements, and as she tried to figure out how to keep her feet off his, but by the thirty minute mark they had made enough progress to attract a smile of approval from Abe and a nod from Kent.
Their confidence in each other grew quickly, and they were moving together quite smoothly by the end of the class; Nicole glared at the instructors as they called the lesson to a halt.
"Very good, everyone. We'll see you all next week!"
Nicole's shoulders slumped a little in disappointment. She had had such a good time that she'd lost track of the clock. The sudden end of the class left her wanting more time on the dance floor, despite the slight ache from all the time in heels.
Rich's soft chuckle drew her attention. "I had a good time, too; I wasn't ready for the class to be done either." He stepped back a little, removing his arm from her waist and sliding it down her arm. He stopped with both her hands in his.
Nicole shivered slightly at the sensation of the touch, and blushed at her own reaction and his quiet snicker. "I suppose we're even, now." she said, looking up at his face and dropping her hands to her sides.
He nodded, and the two just stood and chatted quietly as the other students gathered their belongings and departed. He was a stockbroker—struggling now to deal with the impact of the economic slowdown and the bursting of the tech stock bubble—and a sometime extra in the movies when they needed an authentic American Indian. He'd migrated west to California from the Cherokee tribal lands in Oklahoma.
Nicole related the short version of her official history, touching on the traveling she'd done in the last month. She reluctantly picked up her gear in preparation for leaving.
"It's been a real pleasure this evening, Rich. Will you be here next week?"
"I'm actually planning on being around Friday evening for the dance party. Will you...?"
She smiled, "I'll be there for the lesson and the party. See you there?" She stuck out her hand.
"I'm looking forward to it." He took her hand, and with a gentle shake, they parted for the evening.
The video feeds displayed the interior of the studio. The instructors had finally paired her with the tallest of the male students, a black-haired man with distinctive American Indian features. He was the first man she'd danced with who had the size to make her look at all petite. Several times he or she flinched as she made a misstep, but by the end of the forty-five minute session, they were moving more smoothly together.
They lingered for a few minutes after the session and chatted amiably. Finally, the two shook hands and she departed.
"This is a man-hating Amazon queen? Why are we following this gal again?"
"Because the boss will have our heads if we don't."
Los Angeles, CA
11:30PM
As expected, the express shipping company had delivered the tracker that morning. Similar to the devices used by theft recovery companies, it was battery powered and used a custom frequency. It took an additional step to conserve battery life by keeping the transmitter off until queried by a coded message from a station that powered up the built-in GPS receiver. The location was identified and transmitted to the command system; an alternate response was used to indicate a GPS problem and allow triangulation of the tracker.
The installer stealthily made his way to the vehicle and found a hidden nook on the underside where the device could be secured. He kept the car team posted on his progress as he placed and verified the device's operation.
"Okay. The scanner indicates no activity on either of our default frequencies. Switching on the unit ... it's powering up ... and passed all internal tests. Running GPS test ... the receiver is picking up the signals ... and we have a lock on four satellites, so you'll get velocity data, too. Checking the precision channel ... key is entered ... okay, we are in the hi-precision mode and the location is correct. Stand by for the transceiver test."
"We're ready."
"Okay. Run your query."
The watcher's vehicle had a portable terminal with a moving map display that would provide the vehicle's current location in a useful format.
"Okay, we have a good location on the target. Good job; you can head back to the barn."
"Thanks. See you after your shift."
~At least now we can hang a little further back.~ thought the man in the driver's seat.
Thursday, February 8, 2001
Los Angeles, CA
The friendly competition between the teams continued, as the full capabilities of the digital still camera were pushed to get just the right picture. Today was going to be a problem with the rain; no one expected the redhead to be out as much on a day with that kind of weather. They still got a couple of nice shots of her in her braid look, though.
The tracking system was going to be a help, too, as the morning team put it through its paces on the drive to the studio. The precision GPS mode worked well, and they were able to follow the track of their subject from out of sight during their run.
Another team had managed to gain access to her hotel room. It turned out to be the least interesting search they had conducted for months; nothing was found other than the normal items expected for a woman traveler. As audio-visual bugs were planted in the room, along with a tap on the telephone, a man with latex gloves pulled Nicole's laptop from its case and began cloning the hard drive.
The evening, too, went as before. A late group lesson, covering the waltzes and similar dances, lasted from seven-thirty until quarter after eight. It was followed by a second lesson on dances similar to the rumba from eight-fifteen 'til nine o'clock.
After she returned to her room this evening, the 'over' bet won. The light went out at nine thirty, and the order for 'coffee with two creams' was accompanied by a satisfied grin.
Friday, February 9, 2001
Los Angeles, CA
~Typical day.~
The driver was tapping his fingers in boredom on the steering wheel; he stopped when he noticed the glare of his partner in the other seat.
The daytime shifts had seen nothing of interest, and this evening would be more of the same in all likelihood.
The student count was higher tonight for what the instructor called the 'Social Dancing' lesson, and there seemed to be a variety of skill levels present. The interesting part began when the group lesson ended. After the early session, a second session began called the 'Dance Party' on the schedule they'd received.
She had dressed up for this evening. Despite the cool temperatures, she pulled out her camel colored skirt and white blouse, relying on her coat for comfort during travel. For the evening, she chose her silver necklace and earrings. She wasn't even aware of the extra care she had taken as she carefully applied her makeup and brushed her hair until it glowed like burnished copper.
The social dancing lesson went okay, but it lacked any excitement. Nicole caught herself looking at the clock a few times as she willed the lesson to be done and the party to begin.
When the time finally arrived for the party, she looked around to see where Rich might be. As the music started, she was disappointed to note his absence, despite the fact she didn't know the steps. The first dance came to an end, and she found she'd migrated slowly toward the entrance. She found herself wondering if he'd changed his mind about coming. Her face brightened into a smile as he walked into the studio.
He was dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, and a white polo shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and exposed well-muscled arms. She took in his appearance and noted a tattoo—an eagle, globe, and fouled anchor—on Rich's right forearm. A smile rose on his face as he approached her.
"I was beginning to wonder if my dancing had scared you off." Nicole looked him over, smiling. "It seems you got the dress code memo for the day, at least."
He gave her a puzzled look. "Memo?"
Her smile turned into a grin. "Look at the colors you're wearing, then look at me."
He looked at her in confusion, then at himself. The light bulb went on as he finally made the connection. He smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand as he went "Doh!" in a very poor Homer Simpson imitation.
Giggles erupted from the redhead. "It sounds like this dance is over; are you ready for some fun?"
He laughed. "Yes, as long as you don't use those heels on my toes." Taking her hand, he led her to the floor as the next dance, a waltz, was announced.
She and Rich took their places and swept into the dance as the music began. The tune, 'Last Waltz', was one she remembered from its debut in 1967, and she found herself quietly singing along. Focusing on the music, she found herself and her dance partner moving in reasonable synchronization.
"I find it hard to believe that you've only been at this for a week. You hardly missed a step, and I enjoyed your vocal accompaniment, too," Rich commented.
"The two waltz lessons are helping. The timing is different, but they're similar enough to amount to double practice." With a blush she continued, "I enjoy singing, but I find I don't have time for more than an in-car sing-along."
"Your voice reminds me of my grandmother's, at least as far as your vocal range."
The music continued to vary from waltzes to tangos—even a line dance that Nicole took part in as Rich watched from the sidelines.
As the evening progressed, their coordination improved, though Nicole found herself working at times to get her feet moving properly.
The last couple of dances were waltzes again, and Nicole found herself sweeping around the floor in the arms of her tall companion. The only problem during the party was that she found she needed to make a visit to the ladies room between the last two numbers; she had begun to feel awfully damp -- ~down there,~ she thought, and blushed—as the night progressed.
The party finally came to a close, and Nicole found Rich holding her coat as she put it on after changing out of her heels and into flats. He grabbed his own jacket, and the two walked out toward their vehicles.
The music had varied over a wide range of styles, some of which they hadn't seen covered so far. For the first couple of dances, which were styles she hadn't learned as far as they knew, she stood back and observed. As the second dance began, the tall man from the previous evening arrived. He seemed to look around briefly before spotting the redhead. They spent the remainder of the class swirling around the room as if they'd been dancing together for years.
There were long stretches where her face reflected intense concentration on the mechanics of the dance; the man had similar moments, but frequently slowed the pace just enough to allow his dance partner to keep up. Later, as the music changed back to waltzes, it seemed they both relaxed and flowed around the room in nearly flawless synchronization.
9:10PM PST
They waited, secure in the cloudy darkness. They had been hired by someone—they didn't know who and really didn't care—to steal a redheaded woman's purse. They had been chosen for their size and strength. Both were well over six and a half feet tall and muscular; in their line of work, it had kept them from having to work too hard, as most of their victims rolled over rather than face the inevitable pounding that would follow resistance.
It seemed like a stupid task, but the pay was good and the risk minimal. The information on her whereabouts had been accurate, as they'd watched her go in. They waited in the deeper shadows of a tree.
What they didn't see was one of the surveillance team members in a secluded corner. He had a low-light video camera and a parabolic microphone that were poised to capture the impending encounter.
As the couple walked toward their cars, their quiet conversation barely audible beyond a few feet, the hired muggers moved out of the shadows.
"Give up the purse, and no-one gets hurt." said the taller of the two thugs. His partner moved out to his left, flanking the intended victims and cutting off an escape route.
Nicole was listening as they walked slowly toward their cars, and Rich described his early years in the Marines.
"I got bored in Oklahoma. More school just didn't sound attractive, so I decided to enlist. I wound up at Camp Pendleton for boot camp, and got to ride around the Pacific during my four-year hitch. It was interesting visiting some of the places we stopped, but I decided it wasn't really for me. The last year, they tried to get me to stay by keeping me as an instructor at Pendleton, but...."
He broke off as Nicole stopped abruptly, turning her attention to two figures moving out from the shadows. He watched from the corner of his eye as one of them moved toward their escape route, and he felt himself dropping into combat mode. The anger he felt at the disruption of his evening was draining away, and his mind shifted into a cool, detached state. He waited for the thugs to speak or act.
When the demand came for Nicole's purse, he noted her movement to relinquish the item. ~She's doing the right thing for most situations, but not this time.~ He felt her hand on his shoulder and reached out to stop her.
A long moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of cars passing on the street beyond the buildings, passed. The woman placed a hand on her companions shoulder and started to remove her purse from her shoulder. A restraining arm held her back as the man spoke.
"Back off. You've screwed up a good evening, and if you don't leave now I'm going to take my frustrations out on you both." His voice carried tones of irritation and utter confidence.
It was hard to tell whether the expressions on the muggers, the woman, or the cameraman were more comical. The only certainty was that the woman's companion was poised to attempt to carry through on his threat.
With growls of annoyance, the two thugs moved to punish the man; they were unused to being dismissed as a real threat and decided to prove the futility of resisting their demands and get a bit of exercise.
Rich had been out of the service for three years, but he'd kept himself in good physical condition. These two were no larger than some of the students he'd had at times, and now he had the added incentive to protect Nicole. He had warned them, but they moved in anyway.
His face never reflected his internal grin as he engaged the attackers.
The leader reached for the man, and suddenly found he was flying head-over-heels into the ground. The sharp pain in his elbow and shoulder was abruptly overshadowed by a greater pain in the back of his head. The pain was snuffed out as blackness claimed his consciousness. He didn't see the woman's companion continue to spin, using his momentum to kick out and catch the second thug on the point of his chin.
He collapsed as the crack of shattered bone echoed in the parking area.
Nicole had kept out of his way as Rich moved to deal with the two attackers. She didn't know what he intended, but she sensed the calm confidence he felt. ~He's almost amused.~ The speed with which he broke the two thugs was surprising; even her physical prowess would be pressed to deal with the precision displayed by the man.
For anyone else, she expected the combat would have been impossible to follow.
As the second body settled to the ground, Nicole watched her companion relax from his combat stance.
"Are you alright?" she asked as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse.
He nodded. "I'm fine. I didn't have a chance to tell you that I was an advanced martial arts instructor for my last year in the Marines. These two," he gestured dismissively, "weren't a real threat. You're calling 911?"
She nodded. It was only a few minutes later that the first car arrived with lights and siren blaring. The interviews and paperwork consumed much of the next two hours. The two goons were bundled into a squad car for transport to a hospital; neither was in condition to speak or argue.
The cameraman was hoping that slow-motion playback would help, because it seemed only an eye-blink after the action started that both thugs were unconscious and on the ground.
He decided a quick withdrawal was in order as the woman, seemingly unshaken, pulled a cell phone out of her purse. The equipment was packed away and he was just sitting back in the car as the police car arrived.
He turned to his partner. "You have to see this video. The tall dude with the target just wiped out the team of muggers we sent in the blink of an eye."
"What did she do?"
"She just stood there while he took the bruisers apart, then she called the cops." He gestured at the second cruiser as it roared up, lights blazing and siren echoing through the streets.
It was close to midnight when she finally got back to the hotel, though she wasn't as perturbed as she expected to be. The pleasant company she'd had made the time seem to fly. The two 'gentlemen' were well known to the officers, and, despite the fact the police could only file an attempted robbery charge, the prospect of getting them off the street had made Nicole and Rich very popular at the station.
The two had resumed their quiet conversation as they waited for the paperwork to get processed. After signing off on their respective statements, they walked in silence to their respective vehicles.
"Rich, I really enjoyed the evening with you. I also appreciate your courage in taking on those muggers, even if I think it was an unnecessary risk." She hardly trusted herself to say much more, as her mind and emotions were in a whirl of confusion. His smile didn't help the situation, either.
"It's a pleasure to be a knight in shining armor to such a fair princess." He bowed low, taking her hand and kissing the back. He stood upright again, and reached for his wallet. "I'd like to get together again outside the dance classes, if you don't mind." A business card appeared in his hand.
She answered his bow with a curtsy. "Such a handsome and courageous knight is a welcome addition to any royal court." Nicole's mind had reeled a bit as he kissed her hand, and it took a couple of moments to regain her equilibrium. She accepted the card, and gave him one of her own as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her torso.
"Rich, I'd like to see more of you while I'm here, too. I have to be honest, though; I'm flying back to Virginia on the twenty-fourth, and I don't know how long it will be before we could see each other again. I don't want to operate under false pretenses."
His smile never wavered. "I understand, and I'll accept whatever time we can have while you're here. Are you busy tomorrow evening?"
She ducked her head in embarrassment. "I don't have any settled plans, yet, for the evening. What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing major, just dinner at a little restaurant I like in this area."
They agreed that he'd pick her up about six, and the dress code was clean jeans. The place was for good food and music, not showing off. He stood, watching, as she pulled away for the drive back to her hotel.
(continued)
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