And All My Dreams, Torn Asunder
by Darkside
2004
10. Debrief
She allowed Steve to think she was still asleep as she heard him creep into her room. "Hey no sleeping on duty!" he called out. Friday decided against anymore stupid games. The sooner she was debriefed the better.
She opened her eyes and gave a small yawn, "I was already awake, wassap!"
"You ok? I heard you creep in last night but thought you'd need the rest. I must admit it's been quiet without you," Steve commented.
"Ahh you missed me!" Friday joked. Thing is, she thought did he miss me a little too much? Did she him?
"Loads, The cover story of you going away to convalesce for a few days worked well. Heinlein told me you'd got Dr Abramovich out, nice work. Get some clothes and your ID we have to leave in 20 minutes.
Friday nodded, no time for a shower though. "Ok. Now leave my room please!"
Steve smiled, it was good to have her back safe and sound.
Seventeen minutes later Friday walked out of her room and into the living room, she'd decided to put on the new outfit she'd bought in Russia. Steve was just finishing a glass of OJ, "New outfit?" he observed.
Friday was pleased, most men wouldn't have noticed, "You know how it is for us spies, take on the Russian Mafia, do a little shopping and all before breakfast."
"Come on, time to go. I'll buy you breakfast on the way there."
Compared to Moscow the Washington traffic was almost civilized, millions of people trying to get from A to B so that they would have time to go to C. In its own way Friday thought DC was as bleak as Moscow. Sure there were no concrete monstrosities, but the sameness was there. She was also sure that her views would not be popular should she ever voice them, but they were hers to have. Heinlein had arranged to meet at one of the CIA's front companies across town. He preferred to keep things on the QT and strolling into Langley wasn't exactly quiet.
They reached the small office block half an hour later, parked up in the underground parking lot and went inside.
Heinlein was already waiting for them in his now traditional curtained office. He glanced up as Friday and Steve walked in," Friday, Steve good to see you, take a seat," he gestured to the chairs in front of him.
Friday sat down and waited for Heinlein to speak.
She didn't have to wait long, "Friday, good job on Dr Abramovich's rescue. He's now on his way to a secure location where we can debrief him before we get his family over to him."
"Thank you sir, "Friday replied.
"So what was so important that you couldn't tell us over a secure line?" Heinlein asked impatiently.
"As you know the changeling organ I was supposed to get hadn't been secured yet. Dr Abramovich mentioned that it was being bought over from America! How can that be? We destroyed all our samples and made damn sure the others we sent out couldn't be used to recreate a working C.O. So where in hell was Alexi going to get one from?"
Heinlein thought for a few moments, "This is a concerning development. Why didn't you go back, as Alexi and find out more on this?"
Friday had expected that question, "Because I had no chance of passing as Alexi for more than a few hours at most. I couldn't keep speaking English or German to his inner circle, plus you'd given me no intel as to their names or backgrounds. The best bet was to get Dr Abramovich back here and work from there. I do know that it's not yet left the country so wherever it is, is must be here."
Friday saw Heinlein's brow furrow for a while, he was obviously considering the available options. "Friday, nobody knows more about this than you. What are your thoughts?"
"After I'd finished with the Genetic modification systems and putting people back to how they should be the whole installation was destroyed. We were the last few people out and witnessed the explosions first hand. As far as I can remember the C.O we had taken out from the Guild changeling was still in there. I'd used it only a few hours before as a basis for one of the ways around the genetic 'fixers' that locked people into the bodies there were in. It helped me formulate the key to unlock their genetic structure so I could then alter it back to what it should be. So, I know it was the genuine thing," Friday explained. She still remembered the emotional relief she felt when the last traces of the evil she had wrought went up in flames. Of seeing the joy on Matthew and Kat's faces as the years of pain she had inflicted on them melted away.
Heinlein gave Friday a puzzled look, "So, the question remains. Where could this unknown party get a changeling organ from? If it were to come from say, China or one of the other countries then why fly it here first? It's much easier to get stuff into Russia from China than it is here.
Friday felt all color drain from her face, as waves of dread washed over her, "I know where they got it from," she said solemnly.
"Where?"
"Me," Friday replied softly.
"What?!" Exclaimed Steve.
"Explain," Heinlein demanded. Friday noticed his eyes narrowing, they always did that when he was annoyed.
"Well not me directly, from my body double we created to pass an autopsy and investigation into my 'suicide' That body needed to be identical to my own. What if someone intercepted the remains and stole the C.O. I bet they just put all the organs back inside the body and sewed it up before it was buried." Friday hoped to God she was wrong. Whoever had done it would have a nearly operational changeling organ which was identical to her own. All it would need is careful storage and implantation. In spite of her best efforts Pandora's box was still wide open. The nightmare was not over, and unless it was stopped Tel-Aviv would not be the end.
"You ok?" Steve asked, noticing Friday's gaunt look.
"Steve, you have no idea what this thing could do. Theoretically once it was implanted and working, it could be used to grow more changelings, and so on and so on. My DNA modification system was easy to spot. It was large and required lots of power. The C.O is in effect an organic version of it, only more versatile. Every changeling created is an invisible bioweapon of horrific power. You want an Ebola epidemic? Easy just get the Changeling to manufacture some and release it, How about being able to recreate smallpox at will. Hell, it took me less than two hours to infiltrate and take out one of the most heavily guarded men in Russia," Friday paused as horrific possibilities crashed thru her brain.
She continued, "If we can't stop a single determined suicide bomber what chance have we of stopping a changeling that knows the full potential he or she has? In case it hasn't sunk in. I can create anything that exists or has the potential to exist in nature. airborne AIDS, assassins that are able to take out anyone at will. You've seen what I can do, and I'm only starting to learn my full capabilities."
Heinlein glanced downwards, reached inside his briefcase and tossed a Russian newspaper in front of Friday, "Such as this?"
Friday couldn't read the words of the paper but recognized the alleyway in which she'd taken out those 4 gunmen. She went on the defensive, "What's this to do with the changeling organ?"
Heinlein looked at her from across the table, "Your actions continue to cause us massive concern. Normally you are compassionate, intelligent and respectful of life. Then, whenever you are threatened you switch into someone so utterly lethal that it defies imagination. You don't know the meaning of the words restraint, or minimum force. We managed to obtain the photo's the Russian police took of the crime scene. It was like an abattoir, blood and gore everywhere. The stunt you pulled putting the guys severed head on his chest was especially cute. Our main concern is that your emotional stability is not as stable as you claim it to be."
"Wait a minute! I passed my psyc eval and continue to do so every month!," Friday protested. Heinlein's observation had struck her as though he'd slapped her round the face.
Heinlein shrugged and simply replied, "Just a thought! Now," He decided to change the subject. No doubt it would come up again, "back to more pressing matters. Did you see anything that could give us a clue as to where and when this changeling organ would arrive?"
Friday thought for a few moments, "There seemed to be some heavy duty sequencing equipment there. I didn't get time to investigate too much, but from what I saw, Dr Abramovich wasn't working on anything new. It seemed to be a continuation of what he was already doing. What has his said about this so far?"
Steve replied, fascinated. "Not much. He like you has only just arrived. Why do you think he wasn't doing anything new?"
"For a start the electron microscope showed some kind of bacteria. It wasn't anything recognizable like Ebola or a form of Bacillus Anthracis if I would hazard a guess it looked a little like a variation of pneumonia. Secondly, He also complained at me for ruining his sample. You don't create bacterial samples within only a few days of being kidnapped."
Heinlein thought for a few moments, "Could this bacteria you saw be some new kind of Bioweapon?"
Friday thought for a moment, she'd only seen it for a fleeting few seconds, "It's possible. You can in theory turn any bacteria into a weapon, but you usually need a base on which to work. I'm told the most common to use are Ebola and Anthrax, which I said above this wasn't. Pneumonia is ok to use too, but it's not as infectious and can usually be stopped by various cocktails of anti-biotics. If you want my guess I think Dr Abramovich was trying to use bacteria as a carrier for gene therapy. From the papers he published a few years ago, he was talking along those same lines. Then Tgen came along and made the whole thing moot."
Heinlein, looked puzzled, "Explain?"
Friday inwardly smiled. It felt good to know more about something than Heinlein, "Dr Abramovich postulated, back in 1995 I think that you could use Bacteria to replace a faulty gene. It would work by killing the 'faulty' cell and allowing the body to grow a new one with the repaired gene inserted in. It's a lot more complex than that of course, and I won't bore you with details, but personally I thought it would never work. Anyway after the work we did at Tgen, and I subsequently did on my own the whole idea of Gene therapy using bacteria became as obsolete as the horse and cart."
Heinlein nodded, and sat back on his chair, "So what would the Russian Mafia want with someone who's research was proven to be out dated and why would he need a changeling organ?"
"Without talking to him I wouldn't know," Friday replied. Heinlein was asking all the right questions, but she had no real answers.
Heinlein had reached the same conclusion, "Ok, I'll pass this info onto our analysts. If we need you to speak to Dr Abramovich we'll let you know. In the meantime you still have 2 days of vacation left. I suggest you use them."
"So that's it? You shut me out. You know I'm in the best place to find out what Abramovich was up to?" Typical!
"Are you trained in interrogation techniques? Do you know the procedure for dealing with witnesses such that any evidence they bring would be allowable in court? Look I know you're used to acting alone and doing things your own way. But this is the real world now, and you are part of a much larger organization in which people who are pretty much the best in the world at what they do. Let them do their jobs, and if we need you we'll ask."
Friday sighed, he had a point, "Vacation?"
Heinlein gave a wry smile, "Yeah, Steve told the school you needed an extra week off to fully recover. So you've still got 2 days left. I suggest you go somewhere and relax. You'll need it."
"What no more training or even working at a desk?" This was important dammit!
"No, you know full well that you're not officially on the payroll. How can you do deskwork for us, when you're not even supposed to exist? Yes I know you can become anyone at will, but even then the security risk is too high. I realize this is important to you and that once your curiosity has been aroused then you find it hard to leave it alone. In this case you are going to have to."
Friday nodded, "Understood. Is that all?"
Heinlein nodded, "For the moment. Take this cell phone with you and sign for a car if you need one," Heinlein reached into the briefcase and slid out a Nokia 7250, "Just call your home if you need Steve. Otherwise wait for us to call you. Steve will see you back on Sunday."
Friday stood up to leave, "Not coming with me Steve?" she asked. Actually she was surprised she'd been let off the leash for so long without someone being her minder; especially after Heinlein's comments about her. Maybe it was another test. Knowing Heinlein it probably was.
Steve shook his head, "Not this time, go and enjoy yourself."
"Cya," Friday quipped and left the room.
She caught the elevator to the basement and after showing her ID to a uniformed security officer was given the keys to a new bright blue Corvette convertible. "You sure this is my car?" she asked the security guard.
The guard checked his clip pad, "Yes. Someone called Steve Grayson has signed it off for a Ms Friday Carrell to use. Since that's you, it's your car."
Friday handed the keys back to the guard, "I won't need it just now, thanks," She already knew where she was going to go and she couldn't get there by car in two days. She would finish off what she had started to do before Heinlein had called her away on a pointless errand.
Taking the cell phone from her pocket she dialed a cab and an hour later was back home once more. Once inside the house she quickly stuffed some clothes in the bag she'd acquired in Russia, wrote Steve a note telling him to pick the car up from the airport. The last thing she did before reaching the airport was to remove the battery from the cell phone, just to make sure they couldn't trace it.
She was lucky, in that there was a cancellation on the next internal flight to New York so she only had to wait an hour before her flight left. It seemed as though all she did nowadays was spend time on flights from one place to another and yet no where could she call any of those places really home. That was what this trip was all about, home.
11. Home
She parked her rental car in her usual spot, just near the cemetery and decided to walk the rest of the way. It had seemed years since she'd last been in New York, but in reality it had been what, less than a month! As usual the streets were packed with people going about their own business as if nothing had changed. Lost in her own world she kept walking until she stood at the cemetery gates as she'd done a few weeks ago.
Carefully she unlatched the gates and walked inside. Unlike the last time she was here the weather had stayed fine, but she could feel the crisp breeze starting to bite as the summer drew to a close. She glanced around, she was the only person there. Just as she wanted it.
She worked her way past gravestone after gravestone until she came to a newly dug grave. The earth on top had yet to settle properly and she could see the headstone had barely had time to get dirty. To her surprise someone had placed a set of fresh lilies by the grave. She pulled the stems apart to see who had placed them there. Tears immediately formed in her eyes as she read the Card.
"To absent friends, forever with us and never forgotten
Matthew, Jane(Kat) and Elizabeth Cathline Stephens."
Fresh tears rolled down her cheek. They'd decided to keep the baby and name it after her! A mother it would never see, or even know. Waves of sorrow and loss crashed over her, how could she miss something, someone she had never met? Of all the penalties she had paid and would pay, the giving away of her daughter was the one that hurt, that ached the most. She felt as though her heart had been slashed in two. Why had she come back?
Thru tear blurred eyes she read the Gravestone, 'Dr Elizabeth Anne Bexley. 1969-2001' was engraved in gold lettering. She cast a glance at the two headstones next door 'Margaret and Dr William Bexley'.
"This is why I came back" she said to herself. This place, this small cemetery in the middle of New York was where her heart was, like some restless spirit it was forever bound to this place. No matter who she was she would always exist here. Trapped and alone.
Carefully she took the card from the lilies and put it in her purse. Turning to her parents graves she started to talk, softly so as not to be overheard.
"Mom, Dad. It's been too long," Her voice tailed off a fresh tears rolled down her face, wiping them away with her hand she started again, "Mom, Dad. I'm sorry. I miss you," More tears flowed, freer this time and so much that she could no longer voice the words.
She tried again, "Mom Dad, I wish you were here. For the first time I don't know what to do. Everywhere I turn is pain and loss. I feel dead inside. Like some kind of ghost. Mom, Dad I'm so sorry. I miss you," she wiped away more tears and part of her wanted to leave, to avoid having to say what remained of her heart was crying out to say.
"The world thinks they buried me next to you. Now that I'm here I can't help but think they were right. How can someone exist with no heart? How can someone still live with the voices of a million screams in their mind? Mom, Dad am I still your daughter? Or something else. That's what I really feel like, a Wraith, a being without soul or spirit, just an echo of a once living thing."
She paused to wipe her eyes clear of tears, "Did I do the right thing by leaving them, by making them think I took my own life? What choice did I have? To stay would have reminded them of the anguish I caused them and remind me of what I could never have. Why do I have to keep looking at the past? Why is it that no matter what I try I always seem to end up here? Every time I come here it's to say goodbye, and yet it never is."
In the corner of her eye she saw someone walk in, she had to leave before she was spotted, "Mom, Dad I need to leave. Somewhere out there lies a way out from what I've become. I just need to look harder, otherwise I'll still be a revenant spirit, wandering among the living with no hope of release or redemption."
Friday took one last look at the graves and sprinted out of the cemetery and back to the car. She quickly opened the door and sat in the drivers seat, making sure the car was locked she pulled the card from her pocket and placing it on the dash so she could read it, she turned the CD on.
"I've been looking in the mirror for so long.
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side.
Oh the little pieces falling, shatter.
Shards of me,
To sharp to put back together.
To small to matter,
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces.
If I try to touch her,
And I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe,
I breathe no more.
Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirit's well.
Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child.
Lie to me,
Convince me that I've been sick forever.
And all of this,
Will make sense when I get better.
I know the difference,
Between myself and my reflection.
I just can't help but to wonder,
Which of us do you love.
So I bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe,
I breathe now...
Bleed,
I bleed,
And I breathe,
I breathe,
I breathe-
I breathe no more."
There was a knock on the window, "You ok Miss?" Friday glanced up thru tearful eyes and saw the shape of a police officer. He'd obviously seen her crying in the car and had come over to investigate.
Friday nodded, and wound the window down, "Thanks officer. I'll be ok."
"Can I see your license miss?" the cop asked.
"Sure," Friday opened the glove box and pulled out her purse, it took her a few moments to find it, "Here you go officer."
The cop glanced at the license and then at her, "I knew you looked familiar. You're that teacher who rescued those kids," he exclaimed.
Here we go, Friday thought, "That's me. Is everything ok officer, as I have a long drive ahead of me."
The cop nodded, "For what's its worth, you did the right thing. Drive carefully."
"Thanks," Friday wound the window back up and started the car. She still had two other places she needed to see.
It took her over an hour to get out of New York and onto the interstate. Once out of the city the traffic was comparatively light, but the weather had closed in and she was now driving in heavy drizzle. Somehow it seemed to match how she felt, neither one thing or the other, just here.
She got to the place sooner than she expected, to anyone else it was just another section of road. But to her its significance could not be overstated. She parked the car by the side of the road and got out. She climbed a little way up a grassy bank to where a tree stump was. It had been splintered and snapped where the main body of the tree had fallen.
From here she could see the new section of crash barrier that had replaced one that had been broken by the impact of a car, and then down into the ravine where the car had plunged, killing its two occupants instantly. Her parents.
As she climbed back down the bank the memories of her finding out about their deaths came flooding back. She'd been living life as someone else, Rachel Martin, ultra model when she'd heard it on the TV news. In her minds eyes she traced the line the tree that had fallen on the road would have taken, and then onto the path her parent's car would have swerved to avoid the falling tree.
The tears came afresh as she walked to the crash barrier and looked down into the grassy slopes of the ravine. Only a small gap in the trees showed where her parent's car had crashed through after rolling several times. This is where they had died, the moment she was left alone, an orphan. She walked back to the car and retrieved a small bouquet of white roses, she bought from a truckstop a few miles back. Walking back to the newly repaired barrier, she threw the flowers into the ravine and tearfully turned away.
By now the light was going rapidly as night started to fall. She had two choices, press on or find a motel and stay overnight.
12. Home Insurance
For small town after small town she drove, ignoring the truck stops and motels on the way. She was focused on her destination, and nothing else mattered. She forced herself to stay awake, even though her body screamed out for rest. The drizzle had now turned into driving rain, and the wipers were struggling to cope with the sheer amount of water being thrown at the screen. The light from her headlights was equally ineffective so there was no choice but to find a place to park up for the night.
Pulling off the main interstate she found a small lay by in which to stop, she had no idea where it was just that it seemed a reasonably safe place to park. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car only got worse, validating her decision to stop. She turned off the engine and was plunged into darkness. Reclining her seat right back she lay down and tried to sleep.
Just as she was about to drop off a thought crossed her mind. What was it Heinlein had said? 'However of greater concern is that fact that you don't yet know the full range of your abilities, your attitude seems to change from compliance to petulant defiance on a whim, and most of all your records show that you never do anything unless it serves your needs or accomplishes what you want it to'.
Clearly she was still a subject of huge debate within the government. Still working along that train of thought she recalled other things he'd said to her ' "Any normal agent no we wouldn't bother. But then you're no ordinary agent are you? We don't tend to hire mass murderers and a walking weapon of mass destruction.'
There it was again, the fear of what she could do and who she was. "What else was it he said," she mulled out loud, ' You were granted a conditional pardon. Break that and the gloves are off. Make no mistake, no matter who you turn yourself into we will track you down, and even if it takes a cruise missile strike you will be killed!'
The threat was clear, break the rules and we'll kill you. But Heinlein was only talking about her quitting and running away. Or was he? There must have been a shift in attitudes towards her, as just yesterday Heinlein had said, 'Your actions continue to cause us massive concern. Normally you are compassionate, intelligent and respectful of life. Then, whenever you are threatened you switch into someone so utterly lethal that it defies imagination'.
Heinlein's observation was worryingly accurate. When she or people she cared about were threatened then it was like she was someone else. A killing machine of, as Heinlein had called her utter lethality. She could see why the agency would be worried about her. She gave a frank assessment of herself, highly intelligent, resourceful, and with a history of mental instability, combined with her changeling abilities could make her a huge risk to national security and the general population. This was backed up by Heinlein's comment to her 'Our main concern is that your emotional stability is not as stable as you claim it to be.'
Did he have a point though? She no longer felt consumed by hatred and revenge. The 'Lizzy' persona that had taken over her mind for so long was no longer there, kept at bay by her Stelazine and her own self control. But, had she swapped one evil for another? Or had her psychosis switched to feeding from hatred to that of feeding from violence and death? Was 'Lizzy' still there but lurking in the shadows of her mind, only able to reveal herself thru violence and death?
That last thought troubled her the most. Had she been fooling herself that she in fact was cured? She knew she didn't feel the same as before but was that enough evidence? All her psych evaluations showed clear so was it just her feelings of guilt and loss talking?
So if she were in Heinlein's place what would she do about this. The answer came as fast as she asked the question. He would have a backup plan in case she went rogue. From what he'd implied this backup plan would be her assassination. Either by a heavy caliber bullet to the head, or by something like a car bomb. The various intelligence agencies had used similar methods to take down the Guild changelings so it would seem logical that they would use the same for her.
But who would decide to pull the trigger? Steve? Heinlein or someone higher up and what would the criteria be? When she was no longer useful to them? When she overstepped the mark? Or even if she was regarded as no longer emotionally stable?
Whoever it was and whatever the criteria she had to stop this backup plan from even being an option. It wasn't down to them how she lived or died it would be down to her. The first stage in her regaining control would be to take the decision of her life or death away from them.
She had the glimmer of idea and the more she thought about it, the more it appealed. She'd need to buy a few things on the way to her destination, but that was fine. As she settled back into her seat she smiled as she imagined how fucked off Heinlein would be with her. She lay quietly listening to the sound of the rain on the roof, after the day's emotional stress and tears it was strangely comforting.
She woke up with the dawn light, starting to stream thru the car. She ached all over and reminded herself that sleeping in cars was bad for the back. She checked the clock in the car 6:30am. She had another couple of hours drive ahead of her which would mean she would at the mall in time to do some shopping.
An hour later she'd stopped off at a small roadside truckstop and ignoring the lecherous looks from the truckers had eaten a small breakfast and several glasses of OJ. It had seemed ages since she'd eaten and she had fought off the urge to really stuff herself full. She'd need every cent she had for her shopping trip.
An hour later she pulled off the interstate and into what used to be her local shopping mall. A few of the shops had changed hands and names but the look was the same, a mix of late 80's styling and tinted glass combined with fake polished floors, fountains and plastic plants.
The National Bank of America was still in its old place so she dutifully queued up at the ATM and took out pretty much all the money she had, some 2000 dollars. Stuffing the money in her purse she headed towards the nearest Sears and eventually found the electronics department.
She didn't care what camcorder she used as long as it was cheap and it worked. She browsed the store for a while until she spotted a basic model JVC for only $500. She also picked up a the cheapest VCR she could find, a portable CD player, a small tripod, an 8mm video cassette and 3 normal VHS ones. She was just about to leave when she spotted a cyber cafe where a jewelers used to be, perfect.
Ignoring the geeks who were eying her up as she walked into the cyber café she paid her 5 bucks for an hours use and sat down at a vacant workstation well away from any prying eyes. Once she was sure she couldn't be overlooked she started to type in notepad. She also signed up for some free webspace and made a mental note of the URL.
When she was done she printed a single copy of the document and once she was sure it had printed ok exited notepad without saving, thus ensuring there would be no trace of the document she'd just written, after 'accidentally' switching off the machine she folded up the printout and put it in her purse.
A quick perusal of the map of the mall showed her that, as she hoped the pet store was still there. It took her a few minutes to walk to the other side of the mall and find the 'pets R us' store and a further ten minutes to select an appropriate albino rat in which to buy. Tucking the box under her arm and ignoring the scrabbling sounds coming from inside she walked back to the car, pausing only to buy today's copy of USA Today.
She put her purchases in the trunk of the car, except the rat which she stored under the passenger seat, the clock on the car said 10am and it was a 30 minute trip to her parent's house.
What surprised her most as she drew up to her parents house was how well kept it was. She guessed Matthew and Kat were still paying for its upkeep. The reason why they hadn't sold it was obvious. It would attract a certain amount of ghoulish attention, confirmed by the flowers both wilted and new that had been placed outside the gates. Selling it to some of those freaks who had started to say she was some kind of saint would be in very bad taste. Kat was always sensible like that, how she missed them!
She looked around, the road was deserted and since her parents house stood alone no one was likely to see her sneak in. After collecting her shopping, she walked around white painted fence, hopefully the loose panels she'd used to use to sneak in and out when she was a child hadn't been fixed.
There they were, just opposite the old apple tree. She gave the fence panels a tug, sure enough they were still loose. Turning her attention back to the apple tree she saw that the 'E.B 4 M.S' carvings she'd made in the trunk were still visible.
She traced their outline with her finger, Matthew and she had felt so rebellious carving their initials in the tree and then hiding behind it for some passionate kissing and making out.
Before she went inside she needed to take a few precautions, putting her shopping down she concentrated hard and closed her eyes as she felt the changes sweep over her. It felt strange to be back in her original body, some two inches taller than 'Friday' was, her clothes didn't really fit right but that was unimportant as she couldn't ever use this form again, at least in public. She pushed the fence again and ducked under the loose panels.
She crept up to the house and stopped at the third paving stone from the back door. She lifted it up, ensuring that she disturbed the earth as little as possible. Underneath the paving stone was a dirt covered key , she'd used to keep a copy there in her late teens in case she was ever locked out. After she took the key and replaced the paving stone she walked up to the door and let herself in.
The house was exactly as she'd left it since she'd last visited a couple of months ago. Matthew and Kat had given it to her as a gift after they had inherited it as part of a damages settlement from her. She'd only been back a few times, each time bought back memories stacked on memories that were too painful to face. This visit was different. She was here to find out how much of her heart and her soul remained, was she just a wraith like creature or was there some hope, some route of escape left open to her?
She walked thru the ornate living room. Pictures of her and her family were still in the same places as before, fighting back the tears she picked up a photo of her graduation day at Harvard. Her dad was so proud of her. Sometimes a photographic memory was a curse. She could remember every word of his conversation, every face and every feeling. It was then he'd offered her a job at his hospital not because of who she was, but because she had earned it. Healing and helping people was all she had ever wanted to do. How had to come top be that her very name was synonymous with the very opposite of what she had worked her whole life to be?
Still blinking back the tears she put the photograph back on the shelf. Flashes of memories flickered thru her mind, of family Christmas's, dinner parties and a thousand other little things that competed for her attention, and every single one bought home her feelings of solitude and sorrow.
Clutching her shopping, she walked up to her room, put the shopping on the bed and unpacked the VCR, CD player and camcorder.
She attached the tripod to the camcorder and plugged it in so the lens was facing the bed. The CD player came with batteries so after fitting them, she placed it on her old desk, "That sure got some use," she mused out loud as she remembered night after night of meticulous and fervent study. She inserted a CD and pressed play.
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
Just how many tears had she cried into her pillow following Matthew's rejection of her? No matter how much she tried to let her grief pour out more seemed to remain. The first night was the worst, wracked with rejection and hurt she'd clutched those very pillows on her bed and sobbed into them until it felt as thought she had nothing left to pour out.
It was on this bed that her mom and dad had tried desperately to comfort her, to show her that her life was not over and that the pain would go away. It didn't!
"You used to captivate me
By your resonating life
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase"
As she listened to the haunting lyrics she reflected that the pain of losing Matthew had gone, but been replaced by something even more agonizing. Instead of having a broken heart, she felt as though she had a broken soul. That the malaise of guilt, loss and loneliness had infected the very core of who she was. She would give anything for her Father to walk thru the door right now and give his 'pumpkin' a hug, tell her it would be ok and that things would work out in the end.
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
She fought back more tears, she had to be strong. What she had planned wouldn't work unless she was calm and collected. But in spite of herself the feelings came crashing back. It was on this bed that her alternate personality, 'Lizzy' came to her in a dream demanding that she must choose between revenge and forgiveness. She glanced around her bedroom, still showing many of the posters and trophies she'd obtained over the years she spent here. It all looked so normal, so pure and yet every part of it was stained with the blood of the innocent. It was here on this bed she started off on the road that had led her to here. Would she ever be free of it?
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
The end of the song bought her back from her memories. She still had work to do, and not much time to achieve it. She plugged the VCR into another power socket and ensuring that the rat was still secure in its box walked out of the room and into the bathroom next door.
It was so strange looking at her old face in the mirror, blue gray eyes framed by long tumbling auburn hair. A reasonable nose, not overlarge but certainly not button like and a smattering of small freckles to give her face a 'little girl' look. Instinctively her full lips had gone into that pout she used to do when thinking. Did her mind remember so much about being in this body that even the little nuances had come back?
She stared into the mirror again, it was such an innocent face and yet one that now carried an image that would forever be a stain on history. Like that of Rasputin, Stalin or Hitler this face would join the pantheon of killers. There was, she thought only one chance for this face, that of her cloned daughter now growing inside Kat's womb. Her daughter, who she now knew was going to be called Elizabeth Stephens, would have this face in some twenty five years time and it was on Elizabeth Stephens, that her redemption, epitaph and 'exorcism' relied. Elizabeth Stephens, the only bright star in her pitch black night!
She found a comb, where she'd left one only 3 months ago and did her best to straighten her hair out. Matthew had never managed it in the 5 years he'd had this face and even for her it could be an uphill task sometimes. No doubt by the time her daughter grew up then bad hair days would be a thing of the past.
She'd debated putting some makeup on, but the trouble with that was that when she changed back into 'Friday' then the blusher would be in all the wrong places and besides the changing process always caused some perspiration especially when reducing in size as the energy had to go somewhere.
Now feeling and looking much better, she ensured the tape was in the camcorder and everything was to hand. She sat down on the bed, picked up the camcorder's remote and pressed record.
"Hello. I'm sure by now this face needs no introduction," Friday gestured to her face, "But for the record my name is Dr Elizabeth Anne Bexley. I was born in 1969 to Margaret and Dr William Bexley. What I've done after that is so well known I won't bother mentioning it," Friday paused and showed the USA Today to the Camcorder.
"As you can see, the date on this USA today is well beyond that when I was supposed to have committed suicide, Yesterday, the Nasdaq was down 15.2 points and your pensions are now worth zip.
Anyway, as of today I'm very much alive and well. Some of you might think that this is a fraud, some actress made up to look like me, so to scotch that accusation I've prepared a couple of demonstrations,"
Friday held up her left hand, "One of the features of my changeling organ is that I can inject another man or animal with the same drug that allows me to change form. In other words I can turn anyone or anything into anyone or anything else. Observe," Friday concentrated hard feeling the needle like tube grow from her left hand.
With her right hand she opened the box and caught the rat in the middle. She then lifted the struggling rat so that it was in full view of the camcorder and in one movement injected it with the needle like tube. The rat twitched for a few moments and then was still.
The first thing to change was the rat's fur. It went from a white to a orangey brown. In a single fluid movement of flesh the Rat's face shifted and within moments was that of a small ginger kitten. The Rat's body seemed to bulge and grow and ginger fur sprung up on its thin hairless tail and seconds later a small ginger kitten woke up and looked around in great confusion.
Holding the kitten in clear view of the camera, Friday went on to explain, "Of course as of today no GCI or special effects could reproduce what you've just seen effectively. One of the other things this changeling organ allows me to do is to administer lethal poisons into the bloodstream. Still clutching the kitten tightly she grew another spine out of her left hand and gently pushed it into the purring kitten. The kitten twitched a few times and then was still, "Note that the kitten is now quite dead, " placing the dead kitten back into the box she paused for a second or so. Inwardly she gave a smile, 'that'll piss off the animal rights people.'
"Just in case you may still not believe I am who I say I am, then maybe this face is more familiar," she closed her eyes and concentrated hard. Within a few moments the unearthly beautiful face of Rachel Martin was looking back at the camera, "Or indeed this one." Again she felt flesh reform and grow as her new face took shape. She was now wearing the face of President Roberts, "Or maybe even this one?" Again she concentrated and let the changes wash over her. Now back in her Elizabeth Bexley face she continued, "So why am I doing all this?"
"The answer is easy and yet terrifying. The reason why I am alive is because President Roberts and his administration cut a deal with me. In return for a pardon for what I had done I would have to work for the CIA for a period of 15 years. To find out more, look for references to a codename of 'Friday', Friday Carrell or Lieutenant Friday Carrell of the US Air Force."
"Flying in the face of the fury directive the US Government has me, it's own 'pet' changeling to use in operations that threaten US interests. Future administrations will no doubt be aware of my existence and should they keep the secret then they are equally in violation of the Fury Directive as the current one," Friday paused. That should stir up a hornets nest.
Just to be sure she continued, "To clarify. This current administration and the others following it knowingly concealed the fact that they used a changeling, I.e Me in actions against other countries and other organizations. Why do I tell you this?"
"Because this same administration and others following it have a policy that should I cease to become useful or for some reason don't fit into their pattern of behavior they will have me assassinated. To some of you that may seem a good thing, but I will not allow it to happen. This recording is, shall we say my insurance."
"Before I go, I just want to say how much I deeply regret the things I did and caused to happen. I'm not asking for sympathy or forgiveness only that you understand that I tried and continue to try to somehow to atone for my past actions. Hopefully history will remember me as someone who made a terrible mistake, but ended up saving the lives of millions of others. But as they say, you cannot hope to make history, only survive it.
Thanks for taking the time to listen to me. Goodbye," Friday clicked stop on the camcorder remote and walking over to the camcorder, quickly replayed the message. Excellent! Should that ever reach the likes of CNN it could easily bring down a government or at worst subject the US to crippling sanctions from the UN. No administration would dare to kill her off as long as she had this hanging over them!
She quickly connected the VCR to the camera and made three copies onto VHS tape, one for a decoy, one for Heinlein and one for real.
She decided to leave the VCR where it was, but take the camcorder with her. It didn't take up much space and she'd use it later no doubt. She opened the window and tossed the dead kitten out of it and at last collecting the last of her things and taking a last look around she left her room. Walking thru the living room once more she achingly wanted to take a few photos with her but common sense prevailed. Closing the backdoor behind her she dug a small hole in the soil and placed the decoy video cassette and the key under the paving stone and left via the hole in the fence.
Once back to the car she quickly changed body into her Friday one, started the car and drove off back to New York.
After taking a long and random route, she'd decided to stop off at the fifth town she came to and drove around looking for a law practice. The random route was essential, it meant no one would be able to draw a straight line from her parent's house and New York and find her little 'hidey hole'. Eventually she found a small practice called 'Williams and Bryant' that judging by the sign outside had been established since 1928. She parked up outside, making sure her stuff was all out of sight and collected a plastic bag which had her video tapes inside.
Before she went into the lawyers she walked to the stationers she'd spotted a few stores down. After purchasing several padded envelopes and a marker pen she walked back to the lawyers and went inside. As soon as she opened the door she knew she'd found the right place. It was obviously a small law practice, but affluent enough to afford some new PC's and printers.
The elderly receptionist was on the phone, so she waited patiently until the call ended, "Can I help you miss?" the receptionist asked.
"Yes hello, my name is Friday Carrell and I'd like to speak to one of the senior partners," Friday explained with a dazzling smile.
"Let me see when they are free," The receptionist opened up an old battered appointments book, "Yes here it is, Mr. Williams is free a week on Tuesday!"
Friday's heart sank, she needed to see him now, "All I need is 10 minutes of his time," she pulled a 100 dollar bill from her purse, "I'll make it worth his while."
The receptionist glanced at the 100 dollar note, "I'll see what I can do."
She picked the phone up and dialed an internal extension, "Hello Mr. Bryant. Alice here. I've got a Miss Carrell to see you right away."
Friday couldn't hear what was said on the phone, but guessed as Alice replied, "No Mr. Bryant she's not got an appointment, but only wants 10 minutes of your time."
Alice gave Friday a look that said, 'don't worry he'll come around' A few nods later Alice put the phone down and said, "Second door on the left, he'll see you now."
Friday gave Alice another smile, "Thank you so much," and walked off to the door.
"Come in," the voice replied as she knocked a few times on Mr. Bryant's door. She twisted the worn brass handle and went in.
Mr. Bryant was a slim man, and judging by the thinning gray hair, probably in his late 50's. His brown eyes glanced up her thru wire framed glasses, "Miss Carrell I presume, please take a seat," he gestured to a leather chair opposite his desk.
Friday sat down, flicked her copper hair out the way of her face and waited for Mr. Bryant to speak.
"So, Miss Carrell what can Williams and Bryant do for you?" his voice had an educated and smooth tone to it, he was obviously using is 'in court' voice.
Friday reached inside her pocket and gave Mr. Bryant the print out she'd done that morning. She saw his eyes flick across the page and raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"This is a little unusual," he commented.
"But doable?" she queried.
"Before I answer that let me just check that I've got your requirements correct," His question was no doubt designed to obtain the reasons why she was requesting what she was.
"Go on," Friday said, giving nothing away.
"You want William and Bryant to store two videocassettes. one in 8mm format, the other in VHS format?"
Friday nodded, "Yup."
"And then every month check the website contained in this letter for a 20 letter password," Mr. Bryant continued on.
Friday again confirmed the question.
"Should the password not match the one stated on in this list," he gestured with the printout," and in the order stated in such list then you want us to hand deliver one tape to CNN and the other to NBC News and ensure it's looked at immediately in each case."
Friday nodded, "That's correct. There are 24 passwords on the list one for two years. Every third year you are to take odd numbered passwords and every fourth, even numbers. It's all in the letter. I expressly forbid anyone to open the envelopes, any attempt to do so they should be delivered to NBC and CNN immediately."
Mr. Bryant put his hands together and thought for a few moments.
"Understood. I hope there is nothing illegal in these tapes?"
"Not at all, just information I want to be stored until I want it to be released. How much for 15 years worth of storage and checking of the list each month? You store documents for people of a matter of course I'm sure."
Mr. Bryant thought for a while, "1200 dollars a year."
That was just the way she wanted it," Done," She reached into her purse and handed 1200 dollars to Mr. Bryant," Can I use your stapler and some sticking tape?"
"Sure," Mr. Bryant said and opened his desk drawer and passed the items to Friday.
In full view of Mr. Bryant Friday inserted the video cassettes into the padded envelopes and sealed them with stables and with tape. She signed over the tape with a Biro and passed them to Mr. Bryant to do the same.
"Ms Carrell, if you'll accompany me to our fireproof safe you can ensure they are placed inside," Mr. Bryant stood up and gestured for Friday to follow him.
They walked along the length of the office and turned down another small corridor. Mr. Bryant took a key from around his neck and opened the wood paneled door. Once inside the room, Mr. Bryant moved a fake Monet to one side to reveal a safe. Out of Friday's field of vision he dialed the combination and opened the safe door, "Could you pass me the items please?" he asked.
Friday passed the padded envelopes to Mr. Bryant and watched him place the items in the safe. Satisfied they were in there she nodded her agreement and Mr. Bryant shut the safe door and flicked the dial round to ensure it was locked.
"Thanks, the website is already set to the first password." Friday said cordially. Her insurance now in place she could relax a little.
Mr. Bryant nodded to show he understood, "Nice doing business with you, " he replied extending his hand.
Friday returned the handshake, "See you in a year," she replied.
Mr. Bryant escorted Friday to the main entrance and within a matter of minutes Friday was back in her car and heading back to New York.
--- oo ---
It was nearly midnight when Friday arrived back home. She'd checked her cell phone on landing and found to her relief that there were no messages, whatever had been going on during her 'road trip' she didn't need to know. A quick survey of the house told her that Steve was away somewhere so she took the opportunity to have a late night swim.
As she lay drifting under the water, her gills supplementing the oxygen in her lungs she reflected back on her trip to memories past. Somehow pouring herself out in the way she'd done had helped clarify her thoughts and feelings. Maybe she should give up trying to feel, shut out any emotion at all and become numb to the world. The thing is, without feelings then there would be no route for compassion to show itself and without compassion what hope was there for recompense and redemption?
Maybe the answer lay in throwing her all into her current role with the CIA. But, what room for compassion was there in there? If only they'd let her practice medicine again. Then she'd have a route where she could at least demonstrate that she still cared deeply about the value of a single life.
Using her changeling organ she could fashion cures for most illnesses and injuries. The rapid recovery of Detective Tina Cox whose life she'd saved after she'd been shot protecting the President from a Guild changeling had proven the technique would work. Although Tina's spine had been shattered, the last she'd heard was that it was slowly healing and she'd walk again within a year. She made a note to ask Heinlein again after this current situation was resolved.
Sure, she enjoyed teaching and in spite of herself she found herself quite liking most of the kids, although she expected a degree of hero worship from them on her return to work. It was 3am when she finally felt tired enough to go to bed, Steve still wasn't back so she suspected he'd make his own way there.
--- oo ---
When she arrived at the office building she was directed to a new office on the fifth floor. As directed by the receptionist, she got out of the elevator and turned left past the fire escape and knocked on the frosted glass door. "Enter," she heard Steve call. So he'd got there before her. She opened the door and walked in. Again the office was heavily curtained off and Friday noticed a VCR player and projector on the table. Clearly they'd made some progress.
"Morning Friday," Heinlein said in his usual crisp business like manner.
"Morning sirs," Friday replied, mimicking Heinlein's professional stance. She had been looking forward to this meeting since she got up. Heinlein was going to have an apoplectic fit and he'd even bought a VCR ready!
"Take a seat, We've got a lot to go thru," Heinlein gestured to an empty chair next to Steve.
Friday nodded, sat down and swiveled the chair to face Heinlein.
Steve turned to face Friday, the stubble on his face and dark rings around his eyes indicated to Friday that he'd been up all night, "Dr Abramovich has been very cooperative as you'd expect. He confirmed he was working on Bacteria that would form the basis for a new strand of Gene Therapy and that it was indeed a harmless variation of Pneumonia he was using as the basis for it. Good guess."
Friday nodded, "Thanks. What about the changeling organ are we any closer to finding it?"
Heinlein nodded, "We sent a couple of FBI agents to interview a Dr Meir, who performed the autopsy on your body double."
"And what did Dr Meir say?" Friday asked.
"He told us all the internal organs were taken away by government agents under personal direction of President Roberts. Apparently the President dropped in personally to give his condolences on your 'suicide' to Matthew and Jane Stephens. He then went to see Dr Meir to ensure the changeling organ was handed over," Heinlein explained.
"So where did it go?" Friday asked. It was very unusual, maybe unprecedented for a President to personally intervene. Actually it suited her 'insurance' just fine as this information would prove President's Roberts complicity in her fake suicide.
"We're still trying to find out. But we've found a more likely candidate. Steve, if you please."
Steve turned to Friday and said, "We did a search of the surveillance video archives of the installation you used to recreate a working DNA system in a few months ago. The one you mentioned the last time we spoke. We routinely monitor buildings remotely, so that if anything happens to the building in question we've got an off site secure copy of what went on. This is the recording of the last hour or so."
Steve turned the projector on and waited for it to warm up. He then pressed play on the VCR.
The screen on the wall behind Steve lit up and showed the inside of the Lab Friday had been working in.
"I hate seeing myself on camera," Friday commented dryly.
"As you can see you've just taken a section of the Changeling organ and placed it in the sequencer attached to the DNA modification system. I think this is just before you restored Jane Stephens," Steve commentated.
Friday nodded, "Yes it was. Kat, Sorry Jane Stephens had suffered a lot of damage from cancer due to some instability from the drug I'd previously used on her. I needed the changeling organ to help her body repair some of the damage. Without it she would've died on the operating table."
"Were you tempted to let her? That would then leave Matthew, the love of your life free to get back with you!" Heinlein interrupted.
Friday shot him a vicious look, "Never!" Bastard!
"Just asking.." Heinlein queried. Clearly he was trying to provoke her.
"Ok, back to the tape," Steve un-paused the video, "This is the interesting bit, watch."
Friday looked at the screen and saw a balding man in a lab coat stroll casually up to the shelf in which the jar containing the changeling organ sat. He then reached inside his lab coat and pulled out an identical looking jar and quickly switched it, putting the original back in their pocket. The man looked vaguely familiar.
"Fuck!" Friday swore. She'd been so involved with curing Kat that she hadn't noticed anything. Everyone else was keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't pull any stunts and not on what anyone else was doing! "So who is that and how come they managed to smuggle it out past a whole platoon of marines?"
"The thief's name is Michael Alexander. As you know we don't have many world experts on DNA systems in the government so we bought in people from outside. Michael was bought in from..," Steve started to say.
Friday's heart sank, "TGen."
Steve nodded, "Yeah I thought you might know him."
Friday nodded, "Not personally, only by name and staff photo, he was in one of the other research teams I managed. TGen transferred a whole load of people to their Seattle R&D site after I destroyed the one I was in charge of in an attempt to kill Matthew, Jane and Cathline. It figures TGen would do this; they would be desperate to try and regain market share after I wrecked 90% of their revenue stream. A changeling organ would give them a major leap ahead."
"That's what we thought. As for sneaking stuff past, he probably bought the decoy in under the pretence that you'd asked for it. He could then take the original out under the excuse that he'd bought it in with him. What do you know about their Seattle operation?"
"A fair amount, bearing in mind it's nearly eight years out of date. I know the site was smaller than ours," Friday replied. What she was going to be asked to do was glaringly obvious.
"It's grown a lot since you were there," Steve commented.
"And you want me to sneak in and get the changeling organ off of them," Friday asked.
Steve shook his head, "No it's too big and we've not much time for one person to go rooting around. We've got a warrant to search the place and we've got inspectors on the way. We want you to oversee the search and make sure they really do find it. Naturally you won't want to go as yourself, and there'll be no need to take any kind of weapons other than side arms. You'll join the team this evening and go in first thing tomorrow. Your role is just to make sure we get it back, you're not to go it alone. Report to special Agent Wachoski on your arrival at TGen."
Friday nodded, "Understood. Anything else?" she said expectantly.
Steve glanced at Heinlein as if say "you got anything?"
Heinlein interrupted, "Interestingly enough, but aside from this matter there's also this.," Heinlein fast forwarded the video to where he wanted it to be, "The video shows you implanting something in Jane Stephens. You go to the DNA system with a test tube, use the system for five minutes or so and then slip whatever it is in the anesthetic you used. Now here's the bit that got us confused. You inject Jane in her womb. Of course we now know Jane Stephens is three months pregnant. The official line is that you implanted a clone of Matthew Stephens when he was still in your old body. I don't think you did!"
Shit! She thought she'd got away with it, "What do you think I did?" she asked casually.
"I think you cloned yourself, as you originally were and put the fertilized egg inside Jane Stephens. You then told her a lie to ensure she'd keep the baby, your daughter!"
Still poker faced Friday commented, "An interesting theory, but complete conjecture. If you'll show that clip to your 'experts' you'll see that at no time did I have chance to create a clone of myself. In any case what have Matthew and Kat have to do with anything?"
Heinlein replied, "We did ask our experts and they agree with you. My gut feeling says however that you pulled a fast one on them and that Jane Stephens is carrying your identical daughter. Of course it'll be years before we can really tell for sure."
"So what are you going to do about this 'gut feeling' of yours?"
Friday asked in a dismissive way.
Heinlein stared at her, trying to work out if she was lying or telling the truth, "There's not much we can do, except prepare for such an eventuality. If it's true then I suspect her parents will need to make sure she's behaving and she'll need to be on Stelazine for life. I've passed this up the chain of command, so expect to hear more from us on that matter."
Friday inwardly smiled. With no evidence to say one way or the other they would have to wait until Elizabeth was at least five. By then it would be much too late do much about it, and the very most they could do would be to make Matthew and Kat report anything out of the ordinary in her behavior to them, "I'm sure I will. Personally I hope she'd not identical to me, and with Matthew and Kat as her parents I'm sure she'll be better!"
Heinlein thought for a few moments. He knew it was only gut feel and he had no solid proof, "We'll leave it at that for the moment... Steve got anything else?"
Steve shook his head, and looked at Friday, "You obviously have."
Friday smiled, she was going to enjoy this, "Yes I have. It occurred to me while I was away that you, meaning the CIA must have some kind of failsafe plan to deal with me should I no prove longer be useful or become a liability."
Heinlein did well to mask his surprise, "and?"
"Judging by what you've said earlier I suspect that plan is to kill me," Friday said in a matter of fact tone.
Friday could see Heinlein thinking, no doubt the choice he was making was whether to tell or not, "I'll let you into a secret. Do you know how close you came to being killed for what you are, for what you can do? The dangers you've outlined have all occurred to us, and the question that was asked, is still being asked is quite simple."
Friday inwardly flinched. She'd known that some considered her a danger, but not for certain that there were actual plans to kill her, "The question being. Am I more useful alive than the danger and risk I represent?"
Heinlein nodded, "It was direct intervention by the President that saved you. He was honor bound to keep his word, you have friends in high places."
"It seems so. That's why I've gone and got some life insurance," So there were plans in place and she was still alive only by executive order!
Heinlein's face hardened, "Oh," The toughness of his voice didn't hide a worried tone.
Friday reached down into her bag and pulled out a copy of the video tape she'd reserved for this occasion, "Put that in the VCR please Steve," she glanced across at Heinlein who's face had gone a paler shade.
Steve took the tape and after ejecting the surveillance footage inserted the Tape Friday had given him.
For her part, Friday watched Steve and Heinlein's face as her image appeared, larger than life on the projector screen, ""Hello. I'm sure by now this face needs no introduction," Friday gestured to her face, "But for the record my name is Dr Elizabeth Anne Bexley. I was born in 1969 to Margaret and Dr William Bexley. What I've done after that is so well known I won't bother mentioning it,"
She could see the temples on Heinlein's face expand as his blood pressure increased and could almost feel his rage brewing inside him. Steve just said calmly with an amused look.
A few minutes later the tape finished "TURN THAT FUCKING TAPE OFF!" Heinlein shouted.
As calmly as she could Friday said, "As I said I needed some insurance."
"FUCK INSURANCE AND FUCK YOU!" Heinlein spat. Suddenly nearly faster than she could dodge Heinlein had got out of his seat and leapt across to try and grab her neck, Friday shot back on her swivel chair just in time to avoid Heinlein's outstretched hands.
"Calm it down," Steve manhandled Heinlein back on his seat, "Friday, what's the meaning of this?" he said as calmly as he could muster.
Still out of Heinlein's reach. "The meaning is quite simple. In the event of my death a copy of this tape will be sent to the media and no doubt be shown on the national news,"
"FUCKING BITCH!" Heinlein swore again and had to be restrained by Steve once more.
Friday looked Heinlein directly in the eye, "Don't even try to find the tapes. You won't find them and the method I employ to demonstrate my mortal state is in here," Friday pointed to her head, "Don't even think about torturing it out of me. I can either turn off my pain receptors, or make myself immune to whatever drug you pump into me. "
"YOU, YOU," Heinlein started to say.
"Hell bitch? Bastard? All the above?" Friday finished off, "Like I said if I die then this gets shown to the media and I'm sure the UN would like to hear about it as well. I think it could well bring down the government. I guess history would call it 'Bexleygate'," Friday couldn't help but smile.
"So what if you are killed on a mission?" Steve asked.
"Tough. You better make sure any mission you send me on isn't going to be a suicide one," Friday replied in her best 'lecture tone'. She glanced across at Heinlein who was still red faced and simmering with anger.
"So, what do you want in return," Heinlein said thru gritted teeth.
"Nothing. Just the knowledge that I'm not going to be assassinated because of who I am will do just fine, as I said this is life insurance, not blackmail," Friday said magnanimously.
"Dismissed!" Heinlein hissed.
"Sorry?" Friday hadn't finished yet.
"Bexley, get the fuck out of here before I do something I might regret," Heinlein's voice had a vicious, menacing tone to it.
This was the first time Heinlein had used her real name, he was obviously seriously pissed at her. "Yes sir. By the way, keep the tape," she said and walked out of the room. Once outside and with the door closed, she punched the air in triumph. At last she had regained some control of her life.
--- oo ---
Friday was sitting on the sofa, reading today's newspaper when Steve arrived back home two hours later with a face as black as thunder. His first words on seeing her were, "You have no idea how fucked off Heinlein was!"
Friday shrugged, "So? Sooner or later he would have me killed. I wasn't keen on that idea so decided to do something about it. Are you pissed off at me?"
Steve sat down on the armchair facing her, "Me? Off the record I think it was a sassy move. Don't be surprised if Heinlein pulls out all the stops to try and find out where you've stashed it away. On the record, you are way out of line, which brings me to a change in your mission plan. You're not to oversee the search I am. You're still coming with us so we can be sure we get the right thing. But you're going to stay in the mobile HQ and wait till we've done."
Heinlein's response didn't surprise her at all. "I'm sure I'll find something to do."
Steve smiled, "You'd better get packed and changed. Your new ID is on the table. Our flight leaves in three hours. I need to go back to the office and pick up some more documents. I'll see you at the airport."
"Steve, promise me one thing?" Friday asked.
"Depends," Steve replied.
"I don't want a repeat of last time I flew with you. I can just about handle a Black Hawk crashing at 150ft , A 767 at 30,000 is lot more doubtful," Friday said dryly.
"I'll try to let the terrorists know not to shoot at us then. Look, I've got to go," Steve returned the grin and stood up to leave.
As soon as Steve had left the room Friday wandered over to the table to see who she was supposed to be for this mission. She was half expecting Heinlein to give her a really awful face or worse, even that of an old man but this FBI ID must have been prepared pre insurance speech or Heinlein had decided not to be petty and unprofessional. The face on the ID was fairly plain, female with blue eyes, small button nose and a slightly oriental face. Height 5'8 weight 92lb's name, Naomi Mena. Taking the ID in her hand she walked into her bedroom to change.
Five minutes later the new Naomi Mena walked out of the bedroom, holding a Nike sportsbag and she carefully let herself out and drove to the airport.
As usual, she cleared security without fuss, this was almost becoming routine. Sometimes she had mischievous thoughts about replying 'Yes' to the various questions airport security asked. Such as 'Did you leave your luggage unattended?' or her personal favorite 'Do you have any explosive in the bag?'
Casually she walked into the departure lounge and sat down on the plastic seats facing the runway. She sat there for nearly an hour, just watching the aircraft taxi and take off. Steve was right, Heinlein would do anything to get her video tapes and ensure that she couldn't damage the government. She gave him about three days to find her decoy ones. It was an interesting struggle for sure, like a game of chess and it would keep her amused for months.
"Naomi?" She felt a tap on the shoulder and glanced up to see Steve standing behind her.
"Hi Steve," Friday replied.
"Mind if I sit, We've still got 30 minutes before we leave?"
"Sure," Friday moved her bag from the seat next to her and continued to gaze out of the window.
Steve sat down and fished out a CD Walkman from his jacket pocket and put the small ear piece headphones in his ears.
Within a few moments the loud, 'Scshh Scshh Schh' from Steve's headphones was irritating Friday. She pulled out an earpiece from Steve's ear. "If you want to share your music with me why not let me listen properly?"
"You won't like it," Steve said cryptically.
Friday noticed the mischievous glint in his eye, she decided to play along "I like most music, why not?"
"Because it's about you," Steve put the earpiece back in his ear and started the song again.
Friday immediately snatched the ear piece off his ear, "Let's have a listen," she knew he was teasing her something rotten but strangely she didn't care. It just felt good to get some positive attention for a change.
"If you must. Don't take it to heart though," Steve smiled, and passed the CD Walkman to Friday who then cleaned the earpieces with a tissue and put them to her ear. She located the repeat play button and listened.
"Well she tied me to the headboard with a surf leash
And her wet hair hugged her body like a long-lost friend
And I really tried my best to get across to her
But nothing she would say could be defended
Well her birthday suit it was her only present
When I looked into her eyes - no history
And I told her eating people wasn't pleasant
But she laughed a snake eye laugh and walked away from me
And I watched her as she walked across the coals
I watched her as she walked across the coals
Singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird And I'm your nightmare surfer babe Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard 'You still looking for the perfect microwave?
So I really did my best to get across to her
I said: "One day every pebble hits the beach"
And I kissed her face and held her like a long-lost friend
But she was too far out there to be reached
To be reached
She was too far out there
She was singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird I'm your nightmare surfer babe Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard You still looking for the perfect microwave?
And the sun came up over the mountain
And the waves rolled in across the bay
And the fabulous brightly-colored birds flew up out of the forest
And she said "Well we're all heaven's beautiful children
living together in paradise
Lie down my dear... you're going to enjoy this
And she looked like she'd had sex
With a Tyrannosaurus Rex
Singing: I was born in nineteen sixty weird, old man I'm your nightmare surfer babe Mr. Wilson where's your sandbox and your beard 'You still looking for that perfect microwave?
Perfect microwave
And I watched her as she walked across the coals...
And the sun came up over the mountain
And the waves rolled in across the bay
And the fabulous brightly-colored birds flew up out of the forest
And she said "Well we're all heaven's beautiful children
living together in paradise
Lie down my dear... you have enjoyed this."
Friday couldn't help but laugh, "So that's what you think of me huh, Nightmare Surfer Babe. Well, I suppose it's a step up from hell bitch," she said with a smile.
Steve was grinning back, "It took me a while to find just the right song. But I figured you needed cheering up."
Friday nodded, still grinning. "That I did."
Steve checked his watch, "25 minutes. Mind if I get back to my music?"
"As long as none of it is about me. I'm going to get a paper," Friday stood up and walked to the newsstand. Nothing much stood out except Time magazine which was running an article on the aftermath of the Cairo Attack. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to shut out history another was curious to see what they said. Not wanting to open that particular can of worms she scanned along the stands for anything else to buy. The Headlines of the National Enquirer caught her eye, "Dr Bexley found alive and well!", She picked it up, paid and walked back to where Steve was still listening to music.
Apart from the usual alien abduction rubbish, which she'd come back to if she was really bored she headed straight towards the story.
Sure enough they'd used 'that' photo of her. The one making her look like the killer she felt she was. What else did it say?
'We have obtained new evidence that Dr Elizabeth Bexley is alive and well on a special NSA base on Pluto. Our resident spy reporter in Area 51 reported that someone looking like the evil Dr Bexley was seen entering the main gates of that secret base. He then climbed to a secret vantage point overlooking the base and watched. A few hours later a UFO landed, the entrance way slid down and Dr Bexley walked up into the main saucer section.
This confirms the many theories that Dr Bexley's real mission was to pave the way for invasion by shape shifting Aliens. Naturally the government has refused to comment.'
Friday stood up and walked to the trash can and tossed the paper in. For sure the story had been an amusing diversion but it told a more disturbing story. Even after stopping a war people still remembered the evil she'd done more than the good, typical! There was more news in dissecting the bad stuff rather than looking at the good. She'd nearly killed herself and had pushed herself physically and mentally to the limit to stop a war, save her friends and now risked her life almost daily to try and make amends. Yet all the public wanted to know was how their 'boogyman', nightmare surfer babe, or hell bitch was really still out to get them.
Lost in her thoughts, Steve had to tap her on the shoulder to tell her they were boarding now.
She and Steve had only exchanged small talk on the flight to Seattle. Somehow seeing her name in the news again had taken the desire to talk out of her. Steve had just sat reading the latest blockbuster novel and was obviously lost in his own thoughts.
(continued)
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