The Archangel Files: The Heir

by The Last Boy Scout

 

Part 2

 

Mike had got up because she needed to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. She had actually started considering Phil as a possible part of her future. When she was a he, and all the girls were rushing after him, none of them had spoken to her with the same self assured bluntness, that at the same time said 'I like you but don't give me any crap.' None of them would have dared play word games with The Lane Heir.

Great, Mike thought to herself. I finally find someone I could possibly spend the rest of my life with, but that person is wearing a penis.

 "And what's wrong with that? If the part fits, but don't you think your moving a little fast Michelle.You just met the guy," said The Archangel Michael slightly slurred as he popped into the stall with Mike. She made a frantic grab for her skirt to cover herself from the view of the new occupant.

"There's no need to cover yourself, I….."

"I know, you helped design that part of the body," Mike finished for him.

"Me? No, I didn't have any part of that part, I was going to say that I had seen it all before though. Remember, I'm the one that transformed you. Nudity taboos," said Michael shaking his head. "I still can't get over you people and your eccentricities"

"What are you doing here Michael? And what is that you're wearing?

The archangel's earlier appearance had been that of a successful businessman in a tailored three-piece suit. The Archangel now wore hot green swim trunks and a T-shirt with "surfers do it standing up" written on it. For the entire world to see, above his head where his halo should have been, was what looked like, a glowing golden paper party hat. Mike could only assume the archangel's wings were folded due to the cramped space.

"Oh, we're having a birthday party. DON'T WORRY SERENDIPITY. I'LL BE BACK SOON, KEEP MY MAI TAI COLD! Michael shouted turning his head.

"Keep it quiet, someone will hear you."

"Small chance of that, we're in a pocket universe where time has no meaning, helps keep the tourist from gawking. Now I took some time away from the party."

"Must suck to have a birthday at Christmas time," Mike said, sympathising.

"The kid doesn't seem to mind, good sport about everything really, doesn't let who his father is, go to his head….. Of course, technically, he is his father but,--- Ahh! I need another drink."

"You mean, --- but why are you celebrating it now? Christmas is in four days."

"Actually, it's in about a hundred and four days, but like I said, the kid is a good sport about it, and moved it back for everyone else's convenience. The trouble is, around the twelfth century, after one of your religious leaders, who shall remain nameless, unilaterally set the date, this one, one who doesn't deserve his name, unilaterally changed the calendar and reset everything. We still haven't synchronised our timetables upstairs, besides once is enough isn't it?"

"I suppose so, Wish him a happy birthday from me, I would have gotten him a gift; but I didn't know where to send it, and what do you get for the guy who has everything."

"Nah! Its all right. He understands, probably would have just turned around and gotten rid of it. The kid is responsible for the practice of 're-gifting'" said the archangel, as he materialised a exotic coconut shell drink with an umbrella in it.

"Birthday party this year is in Hawaii," he said lifting up his drink in a salute. "Hey! Do you suppose we can get Magnum P.I. to make a guest appearance?" as he took a deep drink from the shell.

"You need to get out more."

 "Probably true, the boss has cut back on business travel but we wrote off the party as a legitimate expense. NOW! Where was I, oh yes, your three day follow up. How are things going?"

"You mean you don't know."

"Contrary to what you may believe, you're not the center of the universe, I can't follow your every action and intention, that's what the boss is for."

"Can't you ask him"?

"He is understandably busy, what with running the universe and all."

"And, I thought I had a bad gig."

"Cough it up little lady I'm staying reasonably sober for this," Michael said irked.

"Well, things are going, all right."

"Just all right?"

"Well, I'm on a date."

"I noticed, nice looking boy."

"If you go for that sort of thing."

"Are you?" Michael asked curiously.

"I'm beginning too." Mike admitted.

"Good, continue."

"You didn't, change anything with my head did you?"

"You mean flip the switch, turn AC to DC that sort of thing?"

"Yea."

"Nope, were big believers in free will upstairs, the competition may warp your mind but we have a strictly hands off policy."

"Except for the occasion sex change."

"I mean, as far as your mind goes, that's your personal property, the body though, that belongs to us. Are you happy?" Michael continued questioningly

"Well," Mike had to think about it. "Yea, I guess I am, I've kind of accepted what my fate is now, and stopped whining about being a poor little rich boy. A new acquaintance said I should make the best of what I have coming, and force myself to be happy, like my parents."

"Good, I'm glad all it took was swift kick up your butt and a little rearrangement of said."

"Tell me, please, is there any way back?"

"Back to being male"

"Yea,"

"My side can't do anything for you, you could probably swing a deal with the competition, but you wont like the fine print," Michael said shaking his head.

"Then I'm stuck?"

"Is that so terrible?"

"No, it isn't. I just had to know Michael, so I could close a chapter in my life."

"Don't think about it as closing a chapter, but as opening an entirely different book, one with a happy ending."

"Can you really tell me how it will end?"

"That's entirely up to you."

"Good," Mike said pleased nodding her head. "Good."

"Well, since you're in such a happy mood now, you can fill out the proper paperwork," said the Archangel as he materialised a file.

"Paperwork?" asked Mike confused.

"Its what makes the world go round, well, not really, but close. Its not much, a fairly straightforward file here Michelle. It's a written confirmation that you've received your new body, and its condition upon receipt, just mark off whichever box fits. Five levels of measurement for the various categories, poor, fair, acceptable, above average and 'sweet Jesus'. Wait a minute, hey! How did that one get written in." Michael asked confused. "Humph! nepotism. And the last piece is your Archangel evaluation form, it's a new program instituted by Pete, he wants to know how were doing our jobs. Personally I think it's just a bunch of papal bull, but he's got the ears of .important entities. Just fill it out when you get the chance, and a cherub will come by and pick it up. We'll meet again in thirty days for the follow up. Aloha!" finished Michael the Archangel as he handed the file over to Mike and disappeared in a flash of light.

Mike took several seconds to shake her head, then wiped her now permanent new anatomy, and put her skirt back on.

 

"What's that?" inquired Phil, as he saw Mike carrying a tan colored folder to the table.

"Don't ask" replied Mike cheerfully, giving Phil such an incredible smile that he was completely distracted.

Despite being in the presence of an officer and a gentlemen Mike's security detail wouldn't leave her alone. Being opening weekend , tickets to The Two Towers were limited, and they were forced to pay several teenagers fifty bucks a pop to see a later show, in order to get the entire entourage inside. The guards were still unhappy about the dark crowded room, but Mike had put his foot down about the movie, and received backup from an even higher authority than John Lane, his wife.

"We probably could have gotten all those tickets for free, all you would have had to do was flash them a bit," said Phil sighing.

"A bit,"

"Two or three minutes, it would have been a bargain."

"I'm pleased that your not one of the types of boyfriends who gets jealous and protective."

"Am I?"

"What?"

"Your boy friend?"

"Temporary, provisional and subject to congressional approval."

"Well at least I know were I stand, milady," said Phil, giving Mike his arm. "Shall we?"

"Just don't getting funny ideas about the battle of Helm's Deep, I'm not your stereotypical girl, and it's not a scary movie."

"My precious, I'm wounded," said Phil smiling.

 "So how was it? He asked at the finish.

"Cool, seeing movies in a theatre is much better."

"You say it like it's a special experience."

"It is, this was my first time, well all the way through anyway."

"I'm sorry" Phil said, considerately saddened.

"Why should you be sorry? It's not your fault. Being The Lane Heir means I'm a kidnapping target, and my guards don't like crowds, or darkened areas where they can't see any possible threats. It was only the fact that this trip was completely unplanned that they acquiesced at all. It's rather difficult to plan a kidnapping with two hours notice."

"I can imagine, I guess I really didn't think about what your life has been like. What growing up with the constant threat over your head must have done to you."

"It wasn't fun," Mike agreed. "But I don't want to think what could happen if Captain Jack and his Praetorian guard weren't here."

"Neither would I, I've developed something of a sentimental attachment to your beautiful form."

"Flattery," said Mike glancing up to Phil and grinning. "Nice choice"

"I thought so," murmured Phil, as he kissed her.

Mike responded to the kiss, giving in completely, for about a second. Then he realised what he was doing, and broke the kiss jerking away from Phil's embrace.

"What? I'm sorry" Phil tied apologising.

Mike couldn't form words, and instead instinctively pressed the panic button on her wristwatch. Three seconds later the five-person crash team burst into the row from where they had been waiting and dragged Mike away, physically blocking Phil from following her. The last thing Mike saw, before being carried out by two three hundred pound gorillas, was Phil being pistol whipped for his insolence.

 

"Shelly?" said Susan Lane through her daughter door. "You can't stay in there forever, what happened last night?"

'Ha!' Mike thought to herself, 'shows what she knows,. I've got a bathroom and running water . I'll probably starve to death in a few weeks, when my candy supply runs out; but, that's a far better option than going outside.'

"Shelly your father is going to be at the airport in a few hours, and were all going over to the new house, you haven't even packed."

"Go away," Mike said weakly.

"Shelly, you open this door right this minute."

"No!"

"I went to catholic school you know, I can pick locks, or maybe I'll just have Captain Jack shoot the door down and make you pay for the damages out of your allowance.

"I don't get an allowance any more I get interest on my trust fund"

"Shelly open this door this instant."

"No!"

Sniff

Sniff

Even she couldn't be that evil Mike thought.

Sniff Sniff Sniff.

Yes she could, she's an Irishwoman.

"Michelle" came Susan Lanes sweet voice. "Oh Shelly, I just made a new batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, fresh, and hot from the pan.

"Away with you woman!" Mike yelled back defiantly. "You can not tempt me with you heathen tricks!"

"I've also got some ice cream here. Mmmm! Good! iiice-ssccream,"

"Ice cream?"

"To go with the cookies"

"It won't work. I am above such hollow attempts at bribery!" Mike shouted, less defiantly than before.

"Its Colorado River Rapids," Susan explained.

"The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Boston. Go back to the Shadows. YOU, SHALL NOT, PASS!!!" Screamed Mike, trying anything to get her to stop.

"You know, the type that Blue Bunny stopped making for the public, but your father got them to ship us twenty boxes a year special." Susan continued.

"I, You, I, ….not fair" said Mike pleading.

"Vanilla, mixed with butterscotch, hazelnuts, caramel covered peanuts.."

"Chocolate swirls" Mike finished for her, as she burst open her bedroom door to grab the ice-cream bowl an and cookies from her mothers hand.

 

So what happened Shelly?" asked Susan Lane; after she and her daughter had disposed of half the cookie sheet, and were working on the ice cream.

"Nothing, until the end it was a text book date, dinner, movie, flowers even."

"What kind?"

"Not really sure, it was white."

"Carnations, continue."

"The movie was nice. Wow mom, those special effects, and the surround sound!"

"Continue please" Susan interrupted.

"Yes well, then he kissed me.

"Well,"

"I really don't have any point of comparison, it seemed nice enough."

"So?"

"I panicked,"

"Ah," said Susan understanding.

"And I hit the panic button"

"Uh oh"

"And the crash team burst in, carried me away, and probably beat him into a concussion."

"That, probably, was a tactical error on your part Michelle," Susan winced.

"I'm going back to my room."

After severe cajoling, and with the helpful presence of several large armed men, Mike was taken out of her room, showered, shaved and generally made ready to greet her father. The Millard airport was a small municipal affair, with little traffic, but completely suitable for a small business jet. John Lane exited his craft first. He was still robust looking at 65; and the sparkle in his eye brightened noticeably when he saw his wife and daughter. Mike didn't know how her relationship with her father had changed with the sex change; but, it hadn't exactly been roses before.

The very first memory Mike had was of childhood rebellion.

It had to have been when she was around three, but she couldn't narrow it down any further than that. John Lane had made it a habit to spend at least an hour a day with his son, giving him time that he had never been shown as a child. When his baby boy began to speak, in order to develop language skills, every day John had read something to his son. It didn't matter if Mike didn't understand it at first, eventually he did, he was a very bright and precocious boy. But then came the economic slowdown of the early eighties; and John Lane couldn't afford that hour anymore for his son. He was busy just trying to make sure his company and people survived. Soon enough that hour and become forty-five minutes, and then half and hour, and then every other day.

Mike didn't understand about the Japanese export economy, or the value of the mark against the dollar. All he knew at three, was that his father, who had always been there for him, and loved him, suddenly wasn't there anymore. One night, when a tired John Lane came come, Mike, full of the rage and spite that only children can manage, had told his father to go away, and that he hated him. Mike would have forgotten it the next day, like all other threats made by children , except his father had taken his advice. Mike remembered that day, because his father had never again returned to read him a story for bed, what few times it was done, later in life, it was done by a housekeeper or butler. John Lane in reality, probably never thought of his son's taunts as a reason to stop coming. He was too busy hand holding President Reagan, but his son always linked his father's absence with his own wishes, and his son hated him for following them. It didn't make any sense, it didn't have too, he was a kid; and, he wanted his daddy!

They had always been distant from then on. There was always an element of love underlying everything. Both knew how the other cared for them, but neither was able, nor willing, to express their feelings. The father son relationship had grown, increasingly colder of late. An apathetic Mike was shifted from university to university, rudderless, and without direction. John knew his son had talent. He even knew his son had ambition, but not once did he see his son live up to those talents and ambitions: and the thought of turning over the company to him caused his heart to grow colder and fretful.

But that was with Michael Lane, Michelle Lane could be a different story entirely.

 

John Lane approached his wife, hugged and kissed her passionately, despite all the onlookers, and after several seconds he turned to his daughter.

"I ought to belt you a good one for that little stunt." He said, not at all amused

Apparently not

"I really am sorry Dad," Mike replied honestly, meaning what she said.

"I know," John said simply, then taking his daughter in a similar hug, though thankfully, not so passionate a kiss.

"And what's this I hear about a date last night? The panic call set off alarms all the way to New York"

"It was just a mistake daddy, one of those tragic mistakes, noting happened, and I'm all right. I guess we don't need to try any unannounced drills this month. The team is in top form. Though they could learn a little more restraint, and a refresher course on justifiable force."

"Yea, I heard about that, right in the teeth, its probably a good thing his father is a doctor."

"Probably. Well, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Meetings, meetings, and more meetings. You know, I'm kind of surprised by this city, it's a scrapper. It's no New York. But Omaha is really booming where New York has been stagnant. It's the transportation hub, banking center, insurance and investment heart, and cultural focal point for an area two hundred miles in any direction. I had no idea there was this much business opportunity before you came here."

"When will you be finished?"

"Tonight hopefully, tomorrow by latest, Christmas Eve on the outside."

"Jonathan Edward Lane," Susan started threatening.

"Tonight, definitely tonight."

"That's better," both Lane women chimed simultaneously.

"May I come along Dad," Mike asked hopefully.

The question surprised John Lane a bit; interest in business dealing was a new thing from his daughter.

"If you like," John Lane replied, pleased. "Though I'm not sure what you'll get out of it dear."

"This is my city pops, I may be able to offer some advice, and its high time the Executive Vice-president Lane started earning her pay, don't you think?"

"Yes, I'm happy you agree," said John with a grin on his face, and a gleam in his eye, and a new joy in his heart.

 

The business dealings had taken longer than they hoped. While Susan Lane spent the next two days organising the new house, and doing the various gift shopping, her husband and daughter were locked up in various boardrooms. Lane Incorporated was a conglomerate that operated in a number of countries. While there were secondary, and quite lucrative, ventures the largest and primary business activity was shipping. The Lanes had ruthlessly horizontally integrated over the years until they owned trucks, railroads, airlines, container transports, even a few oil tankers. From factory, direct to markets halfway around the world, products could be handled by one company instead of a host of them. Lately John Lane had expanded past shipping, to buying and selling commodities directly. Purchasing corn and grain from the growers; and moving it around the world to where it was needed. The only problem was, as he was beginning to understand, there was nowhere a more crotchety, touchy, bad tempered, crusty, irritable old coot than the Midwest farmer.

"Believe me, I mean no disrespect sir," replied the growers coalition spokesman.

"I should hope not," said John Lane annoyed.

"But you have to see it from our prospective."

"Which is?"

"Well, sir, we grow it, It's our blood and sweat that fertilised it, all you do is move it."

"Leaving aside that its Dow Chemical that fertilizes your crops, when I 'just move it,' I move it to markets were it can be sold. If I wasn't here, the crops would rot here, unsold, while people over there go hungry."

"Well, yes sir, were not disputing that, you deserve to profit, a healthy profit, but can't you make it on the other end."

"How do you mean?"

"We have a rough idea of how much the market will bear Mr Lane, this is our business. And with what you're paying us and what you can expect to fetch overseas, well sir, it gives you almost a hundred percent profit"

"I think you over estimate my profit margin"

"Well that may be. You're a private company, and you don't have to be, shall we say, so meticulous in filing reports for the government."

"You're getting dangerously close to disrespect."

"I mean no offence, but from what we've seen, your transportation network gives you a two to one advantage over your competitors. You cut out a hell of a lot of middlemen."

"I'm glad you approve."

"So you see, you can afford better than anyone else here to up your bid, I'm being blunt here sir its how we do business out here."

"Its how we do business in New York as well, we're just a bit more subtle about our bluntness."

"Well, yes sir, so now that you understand our position, can you make your offer a little sweeter."

"I'm already paying 12 cents higher than current market value. If you're unhappy with that offer, I can always go to Kansas."

"Now Mr Lane, why do you have to go bringing profanities into the conversation, particularly with your daughter present. You could go 25 higher and still blow all your competition out of the water."

"Leaving aside that rather curious expression from a man who lives 1,500 miles from the nearest ocean. I would only be able to 'blow my competition out of the water' if I was willing to sell at the current prices overseas, which I'm not."

"But, I don't?…."

"I'm afraid you underestimate the importance of this deal to my company Mr Dalton. In itself, it's a secondary concern only. You see the United States, and the western world as a whole, is pretty much all taken. Whenever a new industry emerges, the competition is, well, vicious is a kind word. The developing world economies are wide open; however Lane Incorporated has invested, and will continue to do so, significant amounts of money down in South America, Africa, Asia and India. The only problem is, just when things start to really get going, there's a revolution, revolt or rebellion. The last time Zimbabwe went up, an Undersecretary of State said, 'another revolution in Zimbabwe, must be Tuesday.' You see Mr Dalton, people find it very hard to work in my new ventures when they're starving. And I am understandably reluctant to keep funnelling billions of dollars into a country that will only nationalise my investment, whenever the next famine comes along. The foundation of every successful economy is a stable, and ample food supply at cheap prices. When a people no longer have to devote every moment to survival, a society can develop specialists. Doctor's, lawyers, accountants, 'businessmen' who buy American TV shows, cars and computers. Providing them cheap food is good for us, we get the money for the crops, and down the road maybe a prosperous trading partner, and they get to have full bellies. All around it's a win-win situation, meaning no disrespect sir, but this is my business and you….."

"The problem is Mr Dalton," cut in Mike trying to keep her father from saying anything rash. "Is that the current price for corn, wheat, soybeans, and a hundred other American crops, when they reach the developing economies markets, are more than they can afford to pay. So we are left with the absurd situation of 800 million people around the world starving; while food rots away in the United States; and, the Federal government pays farmers like you not to grow more. Lane Incorporated intends to bring them food that they can pay for. Our integrated fleet is uniquely suited for this, but even we cannot afford to do this at a loss. So, I'm sorry, we cannot afford to go 25 cents higher than market.

Don't get greedy, accept the deal as is, and we both will be made a little richer, and we can both get out of here for a Merry Christmas," finished Mike trying the good cop approach to her fathers bad.

"Well, meaning no disrespect Ma'am, but we have had competing offers for our futures, and they have gone 25. I much rather would have done business with you people. I understand where your trying to go with this, and I agree, but I would be derelict in my duties if I took less. I'm sorry," said Mr. Dalton, as he got up to leave. "We wont sign anything until the first. You have until then to make a counter offer. Have a nice day."

"Good bye Mr. Dalton" said John Lane coldly

"Goodbye sir, Ma'am" he nodded to Mike

 "Who could he be dealing with," John asked her as Dalton left the room.

"He said it himself, we may not have the edge on port to port, but Nebraska to Nairobi? We have a two to one advantage," clarified Mike as she sat down in the offices leather chair. "Could it be the Greeks?"

"Definitely not. It just doesn't make any sense, our commercial intelligence unit is one of the best in the world, we should have heard something. No merchant can afford to go 25 over. Even for a hybrid like us it would still be at a loss. You can't get blood from rocks, every food market overseas is as high as the market will bear."

"Maybe they think they can sell it in the US."

"That will be the day, we would have a revolution of our own if the price of food went up that much, and the cereal companies wouldn't stand for it."

"They're insulated, most of them own hundreds of square miles of farmland outright, they would just raise the price of their end product to correspond and grin all the way to the bank. Could they sell it in Mexico?"

"Mexico feeds itself pretty well, and that makes even less business sense, it costs almost as much to cross a few hundred miles by train, as it does to ship it around the world by sea."

"From what you told me, this is a pretty integral part of our future plans. Shipping isn't very profitable in its own right these days. Were depending heavily on those factories, and our start up investment banks in the developing world, could someone be out there be operating at a loss just so we might suffer."

"It's hard to imagine a company that would do it, take the billion dollars hit, and let people starve. "

"People were willing enough to go after Mom."

"That was different, high gain, low risk. A few million dollars saw them put a couple hundred million dollar wrench in our works; and there was no way for us to prove they did it. Jack still isn't sure he has identified all the players. This is very high profile, very high risk, and very expense, a CEO would have to be mad!"

"Funny, I've heard that adjectives used of late to describe a few CEOs I know"

"Now none of that!" John yelled amused.

"I wasn't talking about you, furthest thing from my mind."

"I'll bet, come on munchkin, we need to get going. Your mom is ready enough to skin me alive as it is. This can wait until after the holiday."

"We'll find out who. I'm still not convinced its not a bargaining bluff; he was pretty vague about who this new party was. We'll sort this out" said a determined Mike.

"Yes we will, I was proud of you in there kido, you stopped me from making an ass of myself, and you made some good points. Not that I'm complaining; but what's gotten into you."

"My little trip westward bound changed me, I met someone who made me revaluate my life, I'm a whole new woman now."

"Well I'm pleased. Someday, Id like to meet this person that had such a profound effect on my daughter."

"Believe me dad; no you wouldn't, not just yet" replied Mike, as she walked down the hall with her father.

 

Christmas day not go well. Mike woke up with a feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, and she was proven right, immediately, when she went down to breakfast.

"Gustav we have been working together all our professional careers……….I know we don't have a contract. We have never needed one before. Our fathers worked together, our grandfathers worked together…. when your family needed to flee Germany, due to that 13 year unpleasantness, we sheltered you here; and, this is how you repay me…………I can't lower my rates Gustav…Because I would be operating at a loss……….This is a hell of a thing to pull on Christmas ……I know you don't celebrate Christmas; but it's the principle of the thing…. No…..yes….no…NO!….

SLAM! As John Lane crushed the phone into its cradle.

"Shmuck," he added to the man across the world.

"John, there is no need to shout, I've never seen you so exited," said Susan as she poured her husband some more coffee.

"That's the third one since last night. This is nuts. It's like a coordinated assault on almost every major division, this is Christmas, no one works on Christmas."

"Calm down dad," said Mike earnestly" If this is the loyalty our partners show us, then it's best we were free of them."

"Loyalty is cheap, and business is business, the words gone out on us, if we were a public company, with stock on the exchange, I would be worried about a hostile takeover. As is, when the NYSE next opens, we can expect every one of our subsidiaries that is traded to take a hit, wholly owned, partially owned, blue chip to penny stock. Whoever is running this is audacious. I'll give em that. Christmas's all over the business world are being interrupted and traders who don't know how they're going to pay for little Timmy's new toy, will be running scared and selling short. A full day while the exchange is down, and people can stew, damn."

"I'm sorry Girls," said John Lane as he massaged his grey temples. " We'll have the morning breakfast, we'll open presents, but this afternoon I have to get on a plane back to New York."

"Oh John," said Susan concerned. " Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"I'll come with you," said Mike certain she could be of some help.

"No, no! Shelly, you stay here. There's no need for you to get involved in this, things may, well, I may have to do some things I don't want to."

"I'm a big girl and I can help."

"I know Shell, but this is war, and the president, and the vice president shouldn't be in one place."

"You don't really think anyone will…."

"Its been done before, but no, not really, anyway, you stay here. You need your vacation. I read the paper you did on China and the W.T.O., that must have been some piece of research. My commercial intelligence boys tell me you uncovered a lot of stuff they missed."

"You read that?" asked Mike surprised.

"I read everything you write, it's a fathers duty, now lets not have this completely spoil Christmas I can't wait to see what you all got me, now, as I'm the patriarch I shall open first."

 

LANE ONE IS DOWN! I REPEAT LANE ONE HAS BEEN HIT! SCRAMBLE ALL EMERGENCY SERVICES!" screamed Jack Conklin into his mic as he pulled his Glock out of its holster. "Anyone have a shooter?"

"Negative," came one guard

"No joy," said another

"John!!!" Screamed Susan Lane as she rushed to her husband's side.

"Vercetii godamnit get them out of here!" yelled Conklin with a wave toward Mike and Susan.

"COVER!" screamed one guard as she identified oncoming fire

The guards were able to return fire and take out the sniper but not before Conklin was hit trying to shield his superiors family.

"Vercetti get them out of here," he whispered as his lungs began to deflate. The last thing Conklin saw, was Susan and Mike being shoved into the Limousine and driven as fast as the car could get away. Captain Jack Conklin, formerly of the United States Marine Corps, was pleased that he had at least seen to this part of his duty before the blackness claimed him, and he bled his life all over the tarmac.

 

"I'm sorry Mrs. Lane, but your husband is still in surgery," said an impossibly young ER doctor as he glanced nervously at the large armed and agitated guards surrounding Susan Lane.

"Very well Doctor, but I ask that you at least tell me what operating room he is in?" replied Susan.

"But, why, I'm, what good can that do you?"

"I wish to have flowers sent as a sign of gratitude to the staff on duty there."

"Well, it's a little odd, and, well, you might want to wait until you know how things will go, I Mean..."

"Let me decide my own form of gratitude doctor,"

"Yes Mrs Lane, well its operating room four, Chief Nurse Flanagan can handle any inquiries."

"Thank you doctor," as Susan turned around and walked away.

"What the hell was all that back there, about flowers?" Asked a confused Mike.

"That ass deals with a hundred aggrieved spouses a day, his function is more a councillor than a doctor, keeping families from getting in the way of where the real medicine is happening. He wasn't going to let me near your father so I'm going to go around him."

"How," Mike asked even more confused.

"You remember 'Catch Me If You Can.' Steven sent us a copy last month, 'Why do the Yankees always win? Because the team can't keep there eyes off the striped suits.' Hopefully I'll have better luck at impersonating a doctor, in view of the fact that I am one of the best in the world."

Susan had never been to this hospital before, but she had been to a thousand others; and they all operated along the same theme with clear maps identifying areas for those who were unfamiliar with them. Mike and the guards were led upstairs and into a female surgeons shower. One of the surgeons wasn't going to let the entourage in; but, the guard Vercetti sent her on her way, and then walked outside after her.

Susan, after searching through the drawers, retrieved a set of female operating scrubs; and without a trace of modesty undressed. She took a one- minute shower to get the blood off, a feat Mike would never have thought her capable of, then put on her scrubs. Suitably attired she looked indistinguishable from any other doctor inside the hospital.

"Stay here, if anyone gives you trouble, call Doctor Thomson."

"I don't think he likes us right now remember."

"Damn, well you'll just have to be diplomatic then, I'm off to OR4, don't worry sweetie he's not going to die while I'm there. I have to go scrub in."

"Didn't you just,"

"My hands, a shower isn't enough, but you need one, here" said Susan as she took out another set of scrubs. " You're all covered in blood take a shower then put these on. I….you be…"

"Go Mom, I'll be all right"

"I love you."

"I know"

"Where did Mr Vercetti go," asked Susan as she walked outside.

"Right here," replied Vercetti as he came out of the male surgeons shower also in scrubs. "Just is case you can't get in on your own." He nodded to Susan.

"Guns aren't exactly sterile."

"I don't need a gun to deal with a surgeon, they value their hands"

"Just hold back until needed we don't want to step on any toes."

"No Ma'am, Werner your in charge," said Vercetti glancing to his left.

"Yes, sir" replied Werner as she watched both enter the scrub room with determination.

Left alone in the shower room Mike had a good cry. For about ten minutes she was unable to form any thoughts more complex than why. Why the attack on the company? Why, the more personal one? Why was her daddy going to die?

"He's not going to die," replied the Archangel as he flashed into the shower room attired in his former suit.

"He's not?" asked Mike sobbing

"No, I'm sure. He's not on any of my lists, and he would be, not to pad your families ego any; but his death would be rather important," said Michael trying to console her.

"Why are you here?"

"Well I thought you might want to know…."

"For a guy that can apparently read minds your pretty obtuse, why are you helping me."

"Ah," said Michael understanding, "That why. Well it's a long story are you sure your up for it"

"I have nothing else to occupy my time, and maybe it will help distract me from, from, what's going on in there, ahg!" said Mike grunting in pain.

"Something wrong," asked the archangel.

"Tummy ache, we had to rush breakfast, Dad had to get to the airport and…"

"He's going to be all right Michelle, I promise. Everyone's equal before the

lord, but some are more equal than others, your father and you are important players in the game ahead."

"Game, is that what this is to you?" asked Mike offended.

"No. Michelle, it most certainly is not, that was a figure of speech," replied the Archangel harshly. "And I'll thank you not to assume my actions as trivial, I was out saving the universe, when your race was but a gleam in the Bosses eye."

"I'm sorry, its just,---. I'm sorry, I think you can understand, I'm not exactly feeling rational right now."

"Yea, I know, sorry for jumping on you like that, it hasn't exactly been 'heaven' in Heaven lately."

"Well sit down, Mike" said Mike indicating one of the chairs in the shower room. "Get it off your chest, make us both feels better."

"I'm not used to all this Michelle I'm just a simple soldier, I go where I'm told to go; and fight who I'm told to fight. All this intrigue is giving me indigestion of my own," said Michael, as he materialised a shot glass of a pink fluid, Mike could only assume was Pepto Bismo, and then downed it in one gulp, tossing the container in the trash.

"Time was," Michael continued as he sat down next to Mike. "That we had to fight everyday death grip struggles, for eons it went on. The lines have, have pretty much stabilised now. We or they try a sortie every once and a while, a few million innocents are killed but nothing major, this is what is called peace."

"I never understood that Michael, God is---, I mean, the Boss is the Boss, how can he have rivals?"

"The Boss is the single most powerful entity in the universe, indeed the universe as we know it today exists because he gave it form, just thought it all up one day. I don't really understand it all myself. It doesn't pay to pry, but think about it for a moment. The Boss exists, but what was there before he existed. It's the old chicken and the egg problem, did he create the universe or did the universe create him. From what he's let slip their was an age, unimaginable for me, and I can imagine quite a bit, when their was nothing. He was there of course, a wave of unconnected energy, in a formless universe. But slowly, he began to coalesce, eons upon eons passed and a bit at a time he became aware, and soon enough with that awareness, came the ability to affect the area around him. You think him all-powerful, and omnipresent, and for all intents and purposes, he is. But he has power just because he's been around for a long time, and learned every trick in the book, and forgotten nothing. He was the first, and the most powerful, but he wasn't alone in the beginning. While he's the big papa of the family, there are a bunch of little bastards running around, not quite as powerful, but there are just so damn many of them. Some of them are all right, some of them not so much. You've probably heard of bunch of them, your folklore is riddled with them. Vishnu, Shiva, Jupiter, Isis, my pal Loki"

"Pal?, I've read some stuff on him; he's a real prick."

"Oh that's just bad PR, he was just looking for a good time. Anyway as these lesser beings, lets make a mob reference, and call the under bosses, started becoming aware on their own, they started making all sorts of messes around the Boss's universe. That's when my people were created. We do just about every little thing that really doesn't warrant his time. Every once and a while, there's some creature that gets to big for his britches; and that's where I and my fellow Archangels come in. We 'take care' of things to make another mob reference.

"What's with all the mob references?"

"Oh, we get free satellite TV up in Heaven. The Sopranos is very big upstairs, huh, were the ones that convinced them to go another season, the things you people do to each other. Huh!. Your art is the way we get to know you guys, and you've come pretty far. I still haven't forgiven some of those guys from the renaissance. You've seen how some of them paint me, I look like a magnificent poof! We didn't get many of them sent our way; but what few I did track down, got a long lecture on the respect due Archangels. Anyway, some of the lesser entities began getting pissed. Sure, the Boss was the Boss; but they felt, I suppose with some justification, that they should have a small piece of the action. The Boss was, well I don't want to say spoiled, lets just say, a less mature being, than the older and wiser deity he is now. He didn't like people playing in his sandbox. It doesn't matter how it got started, its not really important anymore, but the sides were drawn, and we've been in conflict ever since. Now, one to one, even one to ten, its no contest, Boss kicks the crap out of them. The problem is, they started organising, banding together for common goals; and they found themselves a leader. A defector from our side, dissatisfied with the role he had been given.

"Lucifer?" Mike asked.

"That's one of his names, yes. He was, we were close. Time was, we fought side by side. Now, whenever I see him, we cant have a civil word of conversation.

"You still see each other?"

"Sure, it's oh so very civilised these days, treaties, zones of control, spheres of influence. Every year we meet to negotiate, Gabe handles most of that end of the business I just provide the muscle. You see Michelle, Lucifer wasn't content with being a member of the staff; he thought he could manage the universe better than his creator. When he tried to ferment a revolt, he was put down, though it was a close thing. Evil is, a messy word, but it's the closest thing in your language to describe him now. His one ambition is to see all that the Boss has worked for torn down.

"Why Michael? What's in it for God, why did he create us humans, what does he get out of it but frustration."

"You know, I asked him that once, he just replied 'you expect me to give you the secrets of the universe on the first day.'"

"That's no answer."

"Well it's the only one you're going to get. I think, I just think, he was lonely. And wanted something to occupy his time."

"Well, your certainly making me feels important."

"You are, you may not like it, but you are, this war we fight, the victories are counted in souls, the life spark, the original piece of that first moment the Boss existed. The side with the most at the end wins. Its not much more complicated than that. You have a position Michelle that enables you to influence the lives and development of millions for the better, that's and, if you'll pardon the bad pun, a 'hell' of an important role to have. That's why my exceedingly valuable time is being spent putting you back on the strait and narrow."

"And it's in your enemies' best interests to stop us. Is that what my fathers attack is, a power play by the competition."

"No, at least not directly, they're opportunistic and they'll take advantage of it, but we don't believe they were responsible. It was all human. That Damn free will damn."

"That was a bad idea," Mike commented.

Was it? Without free will, their would be no human beings, and no souls. If you can't make your own mistakes, what's the point of living?"

"You sure he's going to be all right?"

"It will be a tough convalescence, and he may never again be the man you knew. He's going to need you to grow up in a hurry, but he will live to be a grandfather. You have my word on that.

"Well I'm happy to know he's going to reach a hundred and fifty."

"Not quite Michelle" said Michael, grinning.

"A hundred and twenty?" Mike asked pleadingly

"You wash up now Michelle. Sort yourself out. I'll be back if anything else of consequence happens.

"Why didn't you warn me? Why didn't you see this coming, and save him?"

"We can't save everyone Michelle?"

"You should try."

"I know," responded Michael the Archangel sadly.

After the Archangel disappeared in a flash of light, Mike was left alone in the female surgeon's shower facility. Her coat had protected her from most of it; but her dress was a loss, and her face and hands were covered in blood. Whether it was Jack Conklin's or her fathers she didn't know. Feeling dirty all of the sudden, she stripped off her dress, panties, and bra; and stepped into the shower. The soap was industrial strength disinfectant and left an unsettling chemical odor behind, but it scrubbed off the dried blood quite well. After several minutes standing under the pounding hot water, Mike was starting to feel cleaner and better, though her tummy ache had, if anything, gotten worse, and now was accompanied by a headache from the day's stress. All Mike wanted to do was curl up in a blanket and its artificial safety, for as long as she could manage. But she knew, that with her father incapacitated, the executive decisions for Lane Incorporated, at least for the foreseeable future, would now have to be made by her. After turning off the water, Mike was surprised to see she had missed some blood, though how it had gotten down there she didn't know. After turning the water back on to wash it off, she was hit by another cramp of the tummy ache, and then made a shocking realization.

It wasn't a tummy ache

And it wasn't someone else's blood

Mike was experiencing her first period.

Falling to the shower floor, with the scalding water still hammering into her, Mike collapsed emotionally. She had seen her father and her close friend brutally shot, her company under attack, told she would play a pivotal role in the fight against the forces of Satan, and the cherry on top of the ice cream was that her cherry chose now to start leaking.

"Merry Fucking Christmas," said Mike to herself and to the world

Werner, one of the female guards, came in eventually, to check on Mike and found her still in the shower. Understanding that her ward was in shock she got Mike out of the shower stall, and into the dressing area while drying her off with a towel. Mike's skin was beet red from the punishment, and she numbly changed into the scrubs the guard held out for her. Trying to form coherent words the guard calmly held her while Mike took her time.

"Its all right sweetie, I wont let them get you. Assuming they get past Vercetti anyway, he's pissed right now."

"What …..what's your name?"

"Mary Werner," the thirty something blond replied.

"I should probably have known your name."

"It s all right, I've only been on your detail a short time."

"Mary?"

"Yes?"

"I--, My--, I need…, I… period." Mike blurted out like it was a dirty word, which in the terms of the conversation it was.

"Oh, did you just start?"

Mike nodded her head.

"Well this is a hospital, I should be able to find some tampons, how is the flow?"

"What," Mike asked confused.

"Light or heavy flow dear."

"Light I suppose."

"Right, just wait here, Ill be back soon, and don't worry, I wont let the men outside know why."

"Thank you, I, … thank you"

"Its all right Miss Lane, We all kind of like you, and want to look out for you. You don't have any idea how rare that is in our job."

"Thanks"

"Hold your legs together, I'll be right back. Oh, maybe this will make you feel a little better, Mr Conklin was picked up by an ambulance after we drove off. He got taken to a different hospital; but they think he's going to make it"

Oddly enough that did make her feel better.

 

Susan Lane's determination not to step on any toes, lasted approximately the amount of time it took her and Vercetti to enter the operating room her husband was in. No one questioned her entrance; she looked for all the world the senior surgeon she was. Susan saw that the surgeon operating on her husband was skilled, and that he most likely would have been fine. But Susan Lane was far better than just "skilled" and she had a better chance of saving her husband.

"Excuse me Doctor." Susan interrupted.

"Yes, who are you? I don't like being interrupted while holding other people's vital organs, I consider it rude."

"I apologise, I'm Doctor Susan Lane Chief of Surgery and full professor of the Spruce Harbour Vermont General Hospital.

"Doctor, Lane is it, my god, any relation to this man here," said the doctor as he continued about his work.

"He's my husband?" Susan replied self-assuredly.

"And any relation to the Doctor Susan Lane of St. Johns Medical Center who wrote, 'On Heart Valve Replacement: Myths and Marvels for Teaching Transplant Surgery.' For the New England Journal of Medicine?"

"I was hoping my attempt at adding drama to my annals paper would have been forgotten."

"Not by me," replied the doctor as he nodded to the chief nurse who returned it. "I suppose you've scrubbed up properly."

"Of course," replied Susan

"Then it would be a shame to waste your talents, mine I know, are at best mediocre in comparison."

"I wouldn't say that," Susan started.

"No you wouldn't, I don't believe you are licensed to practice in this state so of course I cant allow you in the room, to be listed on the chart for insurance purposes or on the hospital recorder. Nurse Flanagan."

Kick!

"Thank you Nurse Flanagan" replied the doctor as he glanced at the closed circuit TV cutting out. "Doctor Lane you may proceed."

"Might I have your name doctor?" asked Dr. Lane

"Certainly, this has the making of a most interesting paper we could right together. Ben Pierce, though you'll have to excuse me for not shaking your hand." replied Pierce as he removed the two gloved hands covered in John Lanes blood.

"Dr Pierce this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship" replied Dr. Lane as she moved in to take over.

The surgery lasted most of Christmas day and partway into the next. Eventually, even on Christmas, there were other operations; and the shower room was needed. Werner objected, but Mike said it was quite all right, picked up her things; and the group found a family waiting room in which to wait for word. It was a humbling experience for Mike, as if she needed another. Still surrounded by nine guards, and for all intents and purposes now total ruler of 35 billion dollars and 150,000 employees spread out across six continents, she still had to sip the raw sewage euphemistically called coffee; and sit in cheap yellow plastic seats, like any other human being. Mike noticed a young Asian man of about 25. He was extremely nervous and moving back and forth in his chair. When any hospital employee walked near the waiting area, he would jump out of his chair, but he would look crestfallen when they continued on their way. After the last exercise in futility, the man caught Mike looking at him, and smiled miserably.

"Its my wife and baby you see," he offered by way of explanation. "Its three months early, they said, I couldn't be part of the delivery, and the baby must immediately go into the incubator."

"I'm sure it will be all right sir, I was born premature myself, I spent a month in the incubator, and I turned out fine, and that was over twenty years ago."

"Yes," he replied nodding his had again and again, "that's what they told me, but, it's our first child, and …I love her you see."

"I can tell."

"What are you waiting for?"

"My father, he had…an attack. My moms a doctor and she's in there with him, she's the best."

"And they," asked the man curiously at the guards.

"They're his employees, they look after the family."

"Your father must be an important man."

"He runs his own business and does fairly well at it."

"Me too, well," he admitted sheepishly. " Not the very well at it part. I run a bookstore, used and new books. It's not much, just me and my wife operating out of a small store downtown, and living above it. It was really starting to turn the corner, we developed a client base that doesn't care for the Borders approach."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"You know what's really funny, I forgot to lock the door in the rush here. But I can't head back because the minute I do they might have word. I hope its still there when I get back."

"I'm sure it will be."

"Mr Lang?" asked a young man in green scrubs.

"Yes," Mr Lang replied hopefully.

"I'm sorry to tell you this but your wife died on the table, complications resulting from childbirth. We managed to save the baby, but its in the incubator, and you cant see it right now, nor for the immediate future, My advice to you Mr. Lang is to go home and get some rest. You can call hospital information tomorrow for further updates and arrangements for your wife, I'm sorry for your loss," said the young doctor without a trace of sorrow, as he turned and walked away leaving Mr. Lang catatonic.

"Mary, Stop that….thing" ordered Mike as she got up to face him.

Mary not believing the scene for her self was quick to reply.

"Now what's going on here?" the doctor asked unpleasantly.

"I could ask the same thing of you, what kind off half assed attempt at being a human being was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Obviously, you just told a man in less then a paragraph that his entire life was now destroyed. His wife whom he loved is dead, his child whom you did not even inform him which gender it is, was sick, and possibly dying. Then you went on, without taking a breath telling him to call a minion in the morning, to ship his wife's body out of here. Do you know what I'm talking about now?"

"Now listen here you little bitch, I don't like being told my business. I just got off a 20 hour shift, working Christmas for god's sake, and I'm sorry if I didn't put on kid gloves to handle some chink. I told him what he needed to know, and I did it as courteously as I could manage."

"And without a shred of compassion. Have you any idea what he must be going through?"

"Little girl, I don't particularly care, I want to go home, sleep, for four hours and be back here for the day shift. I don't have time for compassion, I'm a doctor not a priest," said the young doctor as he tried to turn around and leave, and was summarily stopped by four armed guards.

"What is your problem lady? You on the rag?"

"You," Mike replied coldly. "Ms Werner?"

"Yes Boss" she replied

"Take a memo,"

"Yes Boss."

"I want this man broken by the end of the day, use every favour we have, call in his medical school loans, have him evicted, reposes his car, have the IRS investigate him for tax fraud, the FBI for suspected terrorism, send in the investigative journalists and the opinion editors. And inform chief of surgery Thomson that if he ever expects to see a dime from the foundation, that this, thing's, services are no longer required.

"Who are you"?

"Michelle Lane Acting President of Lane Incorporated.

The young Doctors tired face was now filled with fear.

"I'm going to break you, in two pieces over my knee unless you go over there on your hands and knees; and beg for forgiveness from that man over there do you understand me, doctor?"

The Doctor whimpered.

"Nod your head if you understand"

The doctor nodded his head three times.

"Normally I would be more diplomatic about this, but my father is lying on a table with a gunshot wound, while people around the world are attacking my company and yes, for your information, I am on the rag, Now Go and BEG!" finished Mike harshly pointing toward Mr Lang.

The doctor went and begged. After about three minutes of the most profuse apology Mike had ever seen, the doctor looked over at her stern expression asking if it was enough. Mike, tired of his presence, regally nodded her head and the doctor fled. Mr. Lang was still in shock; he probably had heard only every other word of what the man was saying. After the Doctor left, Mike sat down next to him, and wrapped him in a hug.

"I have a son," Mr Lang replied dazed after a few minutes of silence

"I don't want you to worry about his future Mr. Lane. My foundation has quite a fund set up for widows and orphans; and your family rates on both. Your son is going to go to any college he can get into, free of charge to you."

"You don't have to do that," replied Mr. Lang confused

"I'm a Lane, Its what we do.

A few hours later, perhaps tipped off by a fleeing junior surgeon, Dr Alan Thomson showed up with his son Philip in tow. Mike was too tired to be embarrassed, and greeted their approach with a simple nod.

"I was just told Miss Lane, I'm deeply sorry."

"Why should you be sorry? It's not your fault," stated Mike.

"Yes, well, rest assured, the entire hospital would be utilised in saving your father." Thomson said assuring.

"Oh, I believe my mother has already presumed upon your hospitals hospitality and gone in herself to the OR."

"Is that where she is, I had wondered, I'm not sure I approve, if the insurance companies find out..."

"Lane Incorporated will see nothing happens to you or this hospital doctor, we look after our friends, or soon we don't have any."

"Right, I'm going to scrub in myself, I brought Phil here to keep you company, I'll leave you two alone."

With that, Dr. Thomson departed leaving behind two suddenly, and highly embarrassed young people.

"I assume," asked Mike after an uncomfortable silence. " That you didn't tell your family about how the date went."

"I told my mom, not my dad," He replied murmuring.

"Me too, I'm sorry by the way. I had never really been kissed by a guy like that, and when I realised I liked it, I just sort of panicked and hit my panic button by mistake."

"Well, I was afraid this" he replied showing his bruised lip "was because of my performance. I'm glad you liked it, because I wont be up for an encore anytime soon."

"I'm sorry."

"Its all right," Phil replied with a grin, which caused him to wince in pain.

"I suppose you'll want nothing to do with me after this?" Mike asked certain the potential suitor was discouraged.

"Now why would you think that?"

"The beating you received, the very real possibility that dating me could cause people to attack you, like they did my father, and those are just the top two reasons I can think off the top of my head. Give me time and I will come up with more."

"And are there any reasons why I should stick around you."

"I can't think of any."

"Than please milady allow me," said Phil with a laugh, grin and another wince. "Your beautiful"

"Am not," Mike protested.

"Intelligent," Phil continued.

"I flunked, out of ten different schools."

"Brave, and not afraid to put wrong doers in their place, I heard what you said to that ass Buxton."

"How?"

"Hospital close circuit TV, when dad got the complaint call he keyed up the digital tape on his home system. Quite a show. We clapped, its what convinced me to come here."

"I'm having my period, it's the hormones you know."

"Unneeded information at this point, but moving on. Beautiful, intelligent, brave and vindictive, oh yea, the obvious, filthy rich, It's something I look for in all my girls, I expect to be well kept, and your fortune will allow me to live in the lifestyle I can become accustomed to, quite easily.

Only the fact that he was smiling, despite the pain stopped Mike from having him pistol whipped for a second time.

"Its not safe being near me, you should know as well as anybody, I need my own Praetorian guard, for Christ's sake."

"Let me decide for myself what is safe, I'm a big boy, I can look after myself."

"You're an annoying and persistent boyfriend. I'll grant you that, temporary, provisional and subject to congressional approval, just hold me for a while and serve a useful purpose."

"Aye aye, Ma'am."

 

"Miss Lane," interrupted Dr. Thomson some hours later. "I just left the OR, your fathers going to be fine."

'You're an Angel Michael.' Mike thought to herself.

 

Mike allowed herself six uninterrupted hours of sleep, a full breakfast of sausage, eggs, pancakes, orange juice, and tea. Dressed herself in an expensive, but conservative business suit; and, then she went to war.

There wasn't the time to fly out to New York, so she took control of the companies offices in the First National Bank of Omaha Tower, the fight would be led from here. There was a little reluctance on the part of the staff to allow her entrance; Mike wasn't a well-known fixture at the small Omaha division office, even after living there for six months. She mentally kicked herself for not shaping up earlier but resolved to carry forth. After suitable, convincing, by the security detail Mike was allowed entrance to the executive office, outfitted for the president whenever he, and now she, was in town. The banks of computers and TV screens were linked to the company mainframe via satellite and landline both; and was a communication center that rivalled some military setups. And just like military commands around the world, there was a bit of confusion and insubordination over the transfer of command.

"Miss Lane," Harry Kemp began from the videophone.

"Madame Vice President, Mr Kemp," Mike corrected him.

"Yes, of course, but that's really immaterial, Madame Vice President. With your father incapacitated its tantamount to his death, and his will clearly states the board of directors would manage the company for a period of five years, at which point they would judge your suitability for the Chairmanship."

"Chairpersonship"

"Yes, of course, you Miss Lane, your father doesn't think you're ready for the responsibility; and I have to, with all respect, agree with him, my girl your only 21."

"Alexander had a good start and conquering the world at that age."

"You, Miss Lane, " said Harry Kemp mockingly, "Are not Alexander the Great.

"Yes, of course" replied Mike making sport of Kemps mannerisms. "He failed."

"Now listen my dear. You have no power over the company. We will, of course, as a matter of courtesy, keep you informed in a general sense; but I'll thank you not to barge into district office, like you have a say in things, now turn over control to the man you shoved aside, and head back to school like a good little girl.

"Suppose I say my father told me he thought I was ready to take over, that would render your stewardship invalid."

"What he may, or may not have told you, is immaterial. We have only have your word for it. I'm afraid I must comply with his last written instructions. Don't be so competitive Miss Lane, we know what were doing here in New York it isn't the sticks"

"And just what exactly have you done to combat the attack on our company.

"Were not at all convinced its is an attack. Frankly, we feel your father was overreacting to a miner change in the market's direction."

"Is this your final say then Mr Kemp; you will not allow me to assume control during my fathers incapacity, nor do anything to defend your company?"

"I'm afraid it is Miss Lane. I have a fiduciary responsibility to look after your interests, whether you believe it or not; it means keeping you away from adults business at this time.

"Your final decision Mr Kemp.

"Yes it is."

"Very well then Mr. Kemp your fired."

"Now your just being silly, a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum, as I've tried to explain to you…."

"What you believe is immaterial at this point. My father trusted me enough to give me the omega code, the secret pass code which releases every computer and device in the Lane incorporated system and more importantly locks out mutinous scum like you from doing any harm."

"Now listen here."

"I hope you enjoy the quiet, because even if you continue under the mistaken belief that you are still employed by Lane Incorporated, your computers will not turn on, your phones wont ring, your faxes wont send. Indeed, in one hour all the doors of Lane Towers will be locked, and anyone still left inside will be trapped."

"You can't!!

"I gave the order right about the time you mentioned fiduciary responsibility, you should be getting complaints in a few seconds or so. Shutting down the corporate headquarters will put a cramp in my effectiveness; but it couldn't be helped, I had to be certain my orders would be followed and not interfered with."

"You little….."

"Oh and Mr Kemp, if that is company cigar your holding in your hand I'll thank you to put it back in the box, and we will be counting the pens and staplers after you leave. Good day." Finished Mike, as she cut off the videoconference.

 

In a crisis situation, it has been well documented; people will follow just about any orders, no mater where they originate, as long as those orders are clear, logical, and above all loud. Mike wouldn't admit exactly that she went about the day like a reincarnated Marine Drill Sergeant, but she did borrow heavily from Gunnery Sergeant Hartman of "Full metal Jacket."

It was quite clear that the assault was originated in the United States; while some of the overseas interests were affected the biggest hits were American. The whole thing appeared to Mike as though it were a smash and grab job, writ large. The companies core divisions were protected; because it was a private company; but almost 60% of the divisions were not, and someone was trying to strip them off. Nothing physical happened, for the most part, the conflict was entirely physiological. The biggest example was Fanfare Investments the investment and venture capital bank, which also held all the companies' retirement plan. A slew of articles were published from the Wall Street Journal to the Financial Times stating Fanfare had overextended itself, that it had made a long string of bad investments, and several large loans had defaulted. Nothing of the sort had happened, and Mike was curious how those normally meticulous institutions, had failed to double check the source of their information, but it didn't matter. The word was out. Extra fear was generated by the 401K plans that were those banks single largest depositor. A hundred and fifty thousand peoples people's retirement plans from custodian to mutinous board of directors. Due to recent sensitivity, any problem, however minor or imagined, in a retirement plan, set off an avalanche of withdrawals.

Mike couldn't really blame them for their disloyalty. They didn't understand the full situation, and were worrying about the rest of their lives. The psychological damage became all too real, all to soon. Millions then hundreds of millions started flowing out, and it became a self propitiating prophecy, as Fanfare sold off its assets to cover withdrawals. It was a 21-century-old fashioned bank run. And Wall Street smelled blood. When trading stopped on the 24^th, the shares were at a healthy $56.78 When Mike came to the office they were at $49.09. They were now at $23.25. The Stock had been sold short, spectacularly so, and the attackers had only used the profits from the short selling to short even more, and eventually they would start buying back at rock bottom prices to seize control. Normally the SEC wouldn't allow any company to purchase more than five percent of a companies stock. But that was the beauty of the consortium, many companies in no way connected on paper all acting together like they were the robber barons of old. Old Man Lane would have approved, but his descendent wasn't liking it one bit. Mike had to beat them to the punch. Lane owned outright 34%, the largest stake, and while not a majority, insured that six seats and the chairmanship went to Lane appointees. If the attackers could marshal 50.0001% they could block the companies every endeavour. Mike solved the immediate problem of Fanfare by placing a buy order for 40 million shares of FanfareIVCB. Normally Lane wouldn't be able to buy more than five percent either but John was a boy scout and he always liked to be prepared. Contingency papers were already filed. At $24, Fanfare was ridiculously under priced, and Mike took advantage of the situation; both to halt the run, and to gain a solid majority of the companies stock, and to get a bargain at the same time. The only problem was, in order to buy those 40 million shares, Mike had to use almost a Billion dollars of the company's cash. Which left her frighteningly little for other divisions under attack. Mike had to perform triage, the investment bank held the nest eggs of all her people and enabled the companies to expand into a myriad of industries

Fanfare's President, James Nelson, was technically an independent executive before the recent unpleasantness, but he shed all pretensions when he called to thank Mike.

"Thank you Madame President." Mr Nelson started to say gratefully

"You Mr. Nelson, I will allow to call me Miss Lane, or perhaps even Michelle.

"I wouldn't presume Miss Lane, I just called to thank you for the bail out. It came out of nowhere."

"It was an attack upon us Mr Nelson. All of our publicly traded divisions are under assault, you held my employees money, and I couldn't see you fail, or fall into anyone else's hands."

"Well, I understand your reasoning, but it must have cost."

"Much," Mike agreed.

"I'm sorry,"

"Why should you be sorry, it's not your fault?"

"Yes, well, about that, I feel now, since you're my superior, in fact, as well as in practice, that I should bring something to your attention. Last week I was approached by a consortium of individual's to…well, to aid them in an attack on your company. To yield certain privileged information to them. I refused of course, your family has always been good to me, and I sent off a report to your commercial intelligence unit."

"I never heard anything about it, and I bet neither did my father."

"Yes, in hindsight I should have brought this matter directly to your father's attention."

"Yes you should of."

"I'm afraid you have a mole in your company Madame President."

"I'm afraid you're right, please resend the report directly to this office as soon as you can, that is all Mr. Nelson

"Thank you Ma'am."

"WERNER!" Mike yelled outside her office

"Yes ma'am."

"Ready my plane for flight to New York, we've done all we can for the time being were going mole hunting"

"Yes ma'am.

Finding the mole, and the person behind the attacks, was rather simple; but in hindsight rather stupid. Mike didn't hit herself over the head too much, as she was only an amateur at this. Approaching the commercial intelligence center at 10:00pm that night Mike made sure that all its employees were waiting for her. Letting it be known she felt completely safe at the center of her empires security system, she dispatched her guards, and dealt with the assembled analysts alone. She informed them all, that she was on the whole pleased with their work, but there had been a spy in their midst for some time, and the group before her must now ferret out that spy. Mike herself would remain on the premises, annexing an office to perform research on her own. Please get to work, their president was counting on them.

It took about an hour for the mole to enter Mike's office with a drawn gun.

"You know bitch, I thought you Lanes were smart, but no, you just walk in here and think you're the queen of creation. Well your not. I just sent everyone else home on your orders, and we're going to wait here for the boss to arrive. You dumb shit!"

"Lower your weapon and you won't be harmed I promise you."

"Just be quite, dumb kid," he said shaking his head.

"I can make it worth your while," Mike countered.

"I'm already a rich man from the years I've been inside your company, and there is ten million in escrow waiting to be released to me in Switzerland after your gone. I'll take the money that's guaranteed over Lane promises any day."

"What did we ever do to you anyway?"

"You exist," the mole explained as he lifted his gun up again.

 

Eventually the man's superior arrived. Mike felt like she should have recognised him, even though she had never laid eyes on him before. Eventually Mike understood, this was because he looked remarkably like her father.

"Hello Michelle" the men began "You can go now Leon," he nodded to the mole.

"Do you want the gun?"

"With her, I hardly think I'll need it."

"Yes sir," said the Mole as he left

"I must say, I expected better of you. Going off in a half cocked rage, your father should have taught you better."

"Who are you," Mike demanded.

"Me, didn't you notice the family resemblance, I'm Walter Lane. Your cousin, several branches removed of course."

"I don't have any cousins."

"So sure are you, I'm the legitimate descendant carefully documented of course, of Thomas Lane. Five Generations ago, your great-great-great-grandfather, and mine, had two sons; but he had seen his brothers attack him over the family fortune, so he sent my ancestor away to an orphanage and kept yours. Your side of the family kept this tradition, so you thought you were the only heir, and conveniently forgot about my side. So would I, actually, but several years ago I was approached by a consortium that had got the bad end of certain deals of both your father and your grandfather. They had spent millions researching your company, your family and its weakness, and they had found me. They actually originally approached my brother; but he met with an accident."

"Kept your side of the families traditions too didn't you"

"Of course, I'm glad you approve, there were actually about a dozen people who had better claims than me for your fortune; but they met with similar accidents as well. And so would you have, had not that guard of yours been so effective. Then I would have presented myself to the estate as the nearest relative and inherited the business. In exchange for the consortium to dispose of the necessary people, I would in the confusion provided by your families death and 'unstable market conditions' they provided, be forced to sell off most of the divisions of Lane Incorporated to the consortium. After its all done, I would still be left with Billions. I'm not so ambitious as you."

"And what about all the employees, people that have worked for us for years."

"What have they ever done for me? Now your father and mother will be dealt with in good time; but you my dear, will have met with an unfortunate rape and murder in the cold streets of New York. But don't worry, its not incest five levels of consanguinity doesn't really count". the Pretender added gleefully.

"There's just one thing you have forgotten" Mike brought up defiantly

"Oh, and what's that," the Pretender asked feeling ambivalent.

"Bond"

"Bonds?"

"James Bond, you obviously haven't seen any Bond films, otherwise you would have known the villain never explains it all to the victim, and never leaves himself alone unless he is sure he can handle the victim alone. You just couldn't resist coming and showing me up personally, could you?"

"I can handle you, I was All-State football and wrestling," he sneered

"So sure are you?, Captain Jack Conklin, whom you had shot with a sniper, was a marine, he didn't really care for the army. He told me once. 'You know how the army smokes out a sniper; they send out the new guy and wait till he gets shot. They thought that one up at WestPoint.' Well I really had no better way of finding the mole fast, than presenting myself as a target. My security detail had fits when I suggested it to them, but I overruled them. Hopefully Captain Jack will forgive me for acting like the Army."

Crash!

Bang! Bagg! Bang!

Thud

"What's that!" The pretender asked terrified

"That? Well, that's about fifty of my security detail, loyal to me, crashing in and taking out whomever you brought with you, they have been listening in to the recording I made of this conversation."

"What!" screamed the pretender, as he turned to leave.

"Don't run Mr. Lane" said Mike, as she brought up her gun. "I don't really want to kill you."

"You can't do this, You're not the cops. You cant go around killing people, its against the law."

"A fine time for you to be worrying about the niceties of the law."

"FUCK YOU" the Pretender screamed, as he charged for her desk, perhaps thinking, being an All-State football player meant he was faster than a speeding bullet.

Then Mike fired her gun.

The bullet impacted in the stomach and drove Walter Lane to the floor. Mike knew stomach wounds were just about the worst a person could receive. It would take him hours to die.

"But?" He asked pleading, "your just a girl?"

Mike could not feel pity for the man who had harmed her family, and killed most of his own family in cold blood. But she was not entirely with out shame, and decided to end his suffering quickly.

"Goodbye Mr. Lane" Michelle Lois Lane said unemotionally as she fired a second bullet into his head.

 

Eventually things returned to normal. John Lane recovered enough to be brought up to speed. Mike hid nothing from him. John said he was proud of her; but sad that she had to do what had to be done. Mike agreed. Soon enough, spring classes came, and while Mike had managed a now 40 Billion-dollar company for a month. (Certain Lane held stock had suddenly and mysteriously risen in value), she still had not received her bachelor's degree in economics, and still wanted a chance at a normal life, if only for a few more months. Her father had readily agreed, there was time enough for adulthood after graduation.

Mike went back to Omaha into the arms of Phil Thomson, who had a healthy respect for Mikes guard detail, but still managed to help her sneak away a few nights a week. Cindy Watson had proven a remarkable new friend by putting on a brunette wig and spending time watching movies in Mike's apartment. Soon enough the dating got serious, and serious became sexual. Mikes first time was a wonderful experience, and the sensations of sex as a woman with her man were better then anything she had experience before. The two quickly fell in love, and jokingly considered marriage after Phil graduated med school, some three years away, which would give them plenty of time to try each other on for size. Though Mike was having second thoughts about being a navy wife. The only negative aspect of her life was that the archangel had not shown up for her thirty-day check up, or the month after that, or the month after that. Mike was left with the impression that she was no longer one of the Archangels cases because of what she had done in New York to Walter.

Mike sunk deep into a depression that even Phil could not lift her from. She even briefly considered suicide. But her hand was stayed, with fairly reliable every day evidence that there was an afterlife, Mike wasn't willing to enter it, until she was sure where she was going. Other people could be redeemed, and so could she. Mike devoted herself to every good cause she could think of, and was just about content never to see her guardian archangel again, when he showed up.

Mike was taking some much-needed rest, sunbathing in a bikini on her apartment roof, when she turned over to grab her drink and saw Michael. He was lying back on a similar beach chair and towel, with his ludicrous green swim trunks, paisley Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, and straw hat while sipping a mai tai. And he had a very contented look on his face.

"Now this is the life," Michael said with a sigh. "Wish I got sent down more often, though I kind of miss the effect of the ocean. Forth story downtown isn't exactly my idea of paradise. Do you mind?" asked Michael who then snapped his fingers. With a flash of white light Mike was now on a tropical beach, due to the sunrise over the horizon at what should have been mid-afternoon, Mike assume she was now in Hawaii."

"Better," commented Michael.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Mike asked laughing at the angelic high jinks.

"Forgiven? Oh, you mean about that snot nosed punk kid you did in, don't you worry about him, I checked all the lists. He was always playing for the other side, in more ways than one."

"But when you didn't show up for the thirty day follow up I assumed…."

"Well I'm sorry to burst your bubble young lady but your not the center of the Universe. I got other cases too you know, a whole big pile of them on my desk, lots of other people like you that needed straightening out. I looked down and saw you were doing fine, check up enough for me."

"But you let me think I had screwed up, that I was going to hell!"

"I can't help what you think," said Michael apologetically. "Free will remember?"

"Still you could have dropped a note or something."

"I was pretty busy Michelle, this is the first time I've had a break in months, I choose to spend it with you; and you jump down my throat. Christ!, talk about ungrateful. Not you kid, sorry to bother you again."

"How are things going" Mike asked concerned

"SSDD, same shit, different deity, some of these punks have really been getting ambitions. There's this operation in Oklahoma we've been keeping our eyes on. Then we had a minor godling on Crilon start a plague 'just to see what it would be like' he's now imprisoned in a place far worse than you can imagine."

"Crilon, where's that?"

"Oh, about a hundred and seventy light years that way. " replied Michael with a wave toward the sky.

"Another planet?!"

"Sure how many times have I told you, you aint the center of the universe, Earth isn't the Bosses only project you know," said Michael condescendingly

"Well, will we ever meet them?"

"You'll get around to them someday; and others will get around to you. I'm kind of interested to see how it turns out myself. A species' greatest test is what happens when they meet another that is just as smart as they. Tell you; we've been making bets upstairs."

"How's the bookmaking?"

"Even money you blast them, they blast you."

"No middle ground?"

"It's a suckers bet, but there were a few takers, myself included, I guess I have a higher opinion of the human race than most of my people."

"Why is that?"

"You guys got the best TV. Which reminds me, I'm off to Hollywood, John Travolta is about to be offered an Oscar winning script, his biggest hit in years, I just want to make sure things go according to plan"

"Hey what do you have against John Travolta, " Mike asked confused.

Michael the Archangel the chosen champion of the Lord scowled and the raised an eyebrow at Mike.

"Oh" Mike said understanding. "Right, I remember that one now."

"Be seeing ya around kid" finished Michael as he and his chair disappeared in a flash of white light.

Michelle Lane sat back on her chair and smiled, fully content for the first time in months, while she watched the Hawaiian sunrise. It took her about ten seconds to come to a sudden realization.

"HEY YOU ASSHOLE! HOW DO I GET BACK?" she screamed at the sky.

"Explain to me again how you ended up on Hawaii, with just a beach towel and a bathing suit," asked a slightly concerned Phil, as he picked his girlfriend up from the airport.

"Don't ask," was all that she could say.

 

The End

 

Well people there it is, I'm considering making the "Archangel files" an ongoing series. More than considering actually since I have about 25,000 words of part two already written. If you think this is a good idea, or a incredibly bad one please post a review and tell me. I wont continue to write if I think no one reads. And I wont get any better unless people tell me how full of it I am.

Permission is given to post on any free site as long as the story is not altered and the headings remain intact.

   

  

  

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