THE YIN AND YANG OF WOMEN
By AEIU
Mark McCormick basked in the balmy white sands of a faraway tropical beach paradise. The air was filled with the sweet smell of island flowers as well as one exotic, yet somehow familiar, scent. The body warmth of his beautiful companion brought a heat even greater than the sun. Her soft hair tickled his nose as her head lay lightly upon his chest. One of her long nailed fingers played with the curls of his hair while the cold steel of the gun in her other hand lay against his shoulder.
"Cold steel of her gun?" registered McCormick's brain as it pulled his mind from the tropical dream back to his bed in the gatehouse of Gull's Way. He forced his tired eyes open and blinked the sleep away from his eyes. The beautiful woman from his dream was real. She regretfully uncurled his hair from her fingers as she pushed herself into a sitting position and pointed the gun at his face.
"Don't panic," she instructed. "I just want to talk."
"What the…" yelled Mark as he made a gravity defying jump from his supine pose to his feet in one fluid motion. He recognized the long flowing red hair, kissable lips, and the drop dead gorgeous body of the woman that he had met, briefly, a few months ago when a now defunct spy cell sent her to retrieve a cat that was carrying a microchip of stolen scientific information.
"What are you doing here, Cheri?"
A happy smile burst on the beautiful woman's face as she stood up by the bed and slightly lowered the gun so it pointed at his chest instead of his head.
"You remember me," she happily gushed. "I wasn't sure if you would."
"How could I forget? You pulled a gun on me then, too."
"Ohhh," she pouted as a look of disappointment flashed across her face. "You didn't think I wanted to hurt you, did you? The cat spooked me and I just kind of pulled the trigger."
"You could've killed me!"
"Well it would have been your own fault. You're the one who threw that nasty little beast at me. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm not that type of girl."
"You've got a gun on me now!"
"Oh, this," Cheri shrugged as if to dismiss the weapon. "I just wanted to make sure you'd listen to me."
She could tell by the incredulous look in his eyes that he was not impressed with her explanation.
"You don't believe," she exclaimed as her lower lip began to quiver and she lowered the weapon to her side.
"Don't cry," McCormick begged. He hated seeing a woman weep.
"Oh, Mark, I'm in so much trouble," she whimpered as elephantine tears began to well in her eyes and her vast chest heaved as each sob racked her figure. Every fiber of her body sent off the not-so-subtle hint that she needed a strong man to engulf her in his arms and rescue her from misfortune.
The performance continued for several loud sniffles until she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
"Do you need this?" McCormick questioned as he held out a box of tissues.
Cheri grabbed a couple and dabbed her rapidly drying eyes. "It's not working?" she asked.
"Oh, it's working," he assured her. "But I've been down this road before."
"Well, I am in trouble," she pouted, "I remember the way you and your friend handled that spy agency last year. So I thought, maybe, you could help me."
"Whoa," Mark said as he rapidly backed away while keeping an eye on the gun still clutched in her hand. "I don't help foreign spies."
"I'm not a foreign spy," Cheri said coquettishly. "I'm just a working girl that runs small errands, no questions asked. If I had known they were enemy spies, I would have told them what they could do with their money."
"But why here? Why me? Why not the police? Why not the FBI?"
"There might be a few people with the feds or police that might want to talk with me about a couple of little things I might have done in the past and I'd just rather avoid all that. Just listen to what I have to say and if you don't want to help me, I'll go."
Unable to totally resist her large pleading eyes, Mark sat on the bed and gestured for her to continue. "Okay tell me your problem but no promises."
McCormick listened in mounting horror as Cheri told a tale about her dealings with a new group that had recently drifted into town.
The top man wanted a courier who could be trusted to run small errands without asking questions. After she completed a few jobs, her position expanded to include the role of tour guide into some of the most popular places in the city. When she was dressed to party, there were few bouncers that would deny her and her escort entrance into any club.
She expected to be forced to ward off unwanted advances but was perplexed by the man's lack of response to her presence. Despite their insistence to visit the clubs, he seemed to disapprove of her and the LA party scene which he contemptuously described as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah.
Because she was beautiful, he underestimated her skills. Anxious to find out more about the man who paid her bills, she picked the lock on his desk. The papers she found identified him and his followers as part of a world-wide terrorist organization that had developed a doomsday plan. She planned to quietly disappear and leave an anonymous message with the FBI but before she could leave, the leader gave her one last job to complete.
"That's incredible," said McCormick as he jumped to his feet and began to pace. "They could kill hundreds of people."
"Actually they're hoping on killing thousands."
"Where is this stuff?"
"My purse."
"Your purse!" McCormick squeaked as he stared at the pink and flowered satchel which took on a more lethal appearance. "You carried something like that through the city in your purse. And brought it here! Do you have any idea…"
As Mark passed her, Cheri launched herself at the distraught law student and pinned him against the wall with her warm body. Her full lips pressed into his creating a pleasant tingly sensation which ran from his toes to his hair. By the time she pulled away, they were both breathless.
"Sorry about that," Cheri explained.'' "You were panicking and I can't have you panicking."
"Well, it's not like anyone is in any immediate danger," thought McCormick as he pulled her closer.
"You know, I'm still feeling a little panicky," he said as he returned the kiss. "I think I might need a little more help in calming down."
"Later," she promised. "Can you and your friend help me?"
"Ahh, my friend," said McCormick as he carefully pushed her away. "I can't talk for him but I'll ask. He has all kinds of connections so he might be able to get a message to the right people."
"So you'll help me?" she asked with beseeching green eyes.
He considered the death and destruction that could be wrought with the contents of the pink purse. "Yeah, anyway I can."
Cheri pulled him close and gave him a deep kiss. "Thank you."
"You know I don't think this is going to work on Hardcastle."
"That's why I decided to see you first."
McCormick slipped on his shoes and led Cheri to the main house. He didn't bring his key as the back door was usually unlocked.
"We really got to do something about the security system?" he thought as they entered the house.
"He's usually a bear this early in the morning," explained McCormick as he and Cheri entered the kitchen. "He was out late playing with his band, the Jazzmasters, so he can't have been asleep too long. I'm going to stash you in the den and soften him up. Then I'll bring you in and you can explain the situation."
"Do you think he'll help?"
"He'll help. He may growl like a grizzly but he's not going to let anyone threaten his city."
As they approached the den, Cheri leaned forward and whispered, "Do you hear something?"
"It's coming from the den," answered Mark. He eased into the room to investigate. The sight on the couch brought him to a stunned stop as his mouth drop open in surprise.
"Oh, aren't they cute," cooed Cheri.
"Yeah," agreed McCormick as his brain tried to process the sight. Hardcastle had fallen asleep while watching television. His head lolled on the backrest of the couch as a soft snore emitted from his mouth. His right arm was draped over the back of his slumbering companion who McCormick recognized as Agent Mary Brown from the F.B.I. Her feet were shoeless and her legs were stretched out on the couch. Her head lay upon the judge's shoulders with one proprietary arm draped across his chest. They were the picture of domestic tranquility.
"Do you think we should wake them?" asked Cheri.
McCormick's first instinct was to say no. But as the judge started to stir, he realized the choice was out of his hands.
"Hardcastle," McCormick whispered as he tentatively shook the judge's shoulder which did not have a federal agent sleeping on it. "Wake up."
"Whosit," Hardcastle snorted as his head jerked up. "McCormick?" he asked groggily. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and saw McCormick standing above him with what had to be one of the kid's frequently changing girlfriend's by his side.
She gave him a small wave with her left hand. Hardcastle's eyes widened as they focused on the gun she held in her right hand. His photographic memory flickered to the last time he had seen her when she used a similar looking gun to shoot at them as she fled the estate.
He rose from the couch only to be reminded that he was not alone as the soft weight lying against him began to tumble off. He reached out one protective arm and saved her away from the fall. He turned his head away from his companion and glared at the gun before turning his accusing eyes to McCormick He wasn't sure how but he knew this had to be his fault.
Cheri gave Mark an apologetic smile and hid the gun behind her back.
"Milt, what is it?" asked Agent Brown worriedly. "Does that woman have a gun?"
"Don't worry," assured Cheri as she wrapped her free arm around McCormick. "This isn't a robbery or anything. I'm a friend of Mark's."
McCormick turned his eyes upward and prayed for a bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery. Luck was against him as three sets of eyes stared at him.
"I can explain," said McCormick guiltily. "This isn't what it looks like."
"I think an explanation would be a wonderful idea, Mark," Hardcastle said in a friendly voice and a large smile which made McCormick's blood run cold. "Just let me say goodnight to Mrs. Brown and then you and I will have a little talk."
"I'm staying, Milt," declared Brown as she pulled her purse to her chest.
"It's okay," said Hardcastle. "You can go home and I'll call you later."
"There's something wrong here and I'm not going anywhere," said Brown as she clutched at her voluminous purse and ignored his frown.
"I can keep your friend company while you talk to Markie," volunteered Cheri oblivious to McCormick's cringe.
"I'm not leaving her with you!" Hardcastle declared.
"Don't worry," Cheri said. "I'm just here to talk."
Hardcastle glanced at Brown who gave him a nod of reassurance. He gestured towards the kitchen and watched as McCormick reluctantly walked out of the room, away from any potential witnesses to the demise that he had planned for his young friend.
Once they entered the kitchen, Hardcastle grabbed McCormick by the shoulder and roughly turned him around.
"Alright, Markie," growled the judge, what's she doing here?"
Throwing caution to the wind, McCormick decided the best defense was a good offense. A grin broke on his face as he thought back on the image of the judge and the federal agent on the couch.
"Gee Milt," he said, "I don't know if you're in any position to throw stones about bringing women home. How long have you and Agent Brown been an item? I thought you were with the Jazzmasters tonight."
"For your information," Hardcastle responded as he thumped the jackanapes' chest with his finger, "me and Mrs. Brown are not an item. She's interested in Dixieland music and went to hear us perform. We got to talking; I invited her over to watch 'Chisholm' and we fell asleep."
A light blush began to color Hardcastle's face as McCormick's eyebrow went up. "And don't change the subject. What is that woman doing here and why does she have a gun?"
"She broke in," explained McCormick. "I woke up and she was sitting on my bed."
Mark felt his own cheeks began to burn as he watched the judge's eyebrow arched skeptically. "She got a job working for a new gang. They gave her a package to deliver and she thinks its poison gas."
"If that's true, why bring it here? Why not turn it over to the feds?"
"She's got a bit of a history with them."
"So why bring it to you?"
"She said I impressed her with the way I handled that spy ring last year."
"You mean she knows a patsy when she sees one."
A sudden crash turned their attention back to the den where they had left the two women. Mark's youth gave him a slight edge in their rush back to the room but Hardcastle's muscles managed to nudge him away from the door. The judge entered a hair's breadth ahead of McCormick.
The women stood with only a few feet between them. Both had their guns drawn and pointed center mass toward the other.
"Put down your weapon," ordered Agent Brown in a tone which broke nothing less than full compliance.
"I don't think, so," responded Cheri with a flounce of her hair. "You put your gun down."
"How do you want to handle this?" whispered McCormick as he leaned closer to the judge.
"You take yours and I'll take mine," answered Hardcastle.
Mark slowly approached Cheri and softly placed his hand on her arm. "Come on. Cheri. Lower the gun."
"You didn't tell me she was a fed," Cheri accused. "I try to be nice and let her get comfortable and the next thing I know she's trying to arrest me."
"I know," said Mark as he gentle tried to turn her away from the confrontation. "Hardcastle is going to talk with her, so why don't we go over there so we can talk."
"You know I didn't have to come here. I could have made an easy grand by just keeping quiet and dropping off the stuff," complained Cheri as she let Mark lead her away.
"McCormick!" ordered Brown. "Back away from her." Her voice rose as she repeated the command to no avail.
"They're not going anywhere," said Hardcastle to the frustrated agent. "She's put her weapon down so put down yours and let's talk about this."
Brown turned her head to face the judge and said, "That woman has several outstanding warrants as a person of interest. I'm going to take her in."
"I understand. But McCormick says she's got information about some guys that are planning to hurt a bunch of people."
"Humph, a likely story," scoffed Brown. She lowered her weapon but kept a wary eye on the indignant and petulant redhead.
"Let's hear what she has to say and then you can decide," Hardcastle said reasonably.
"You don't believe her, do you?"
"I don't think we should take a chance if it means people's lives."
"Alright, I'll listen but no promises."
"That's all I'm asking."
In the spirit of cooperation, both women reluctantly agreed to holster their guns. Hardcastle and Agent Brown sat on the couch while McCormick sat closer to Cheri who stood in center of the room.
"It all began innocently enough," explained Cheri, "when my agent set me up with a guy called The Professor. He was willing to pay big money for an exclusive contract. He wanted to see the sights of the city and go where the people are. My job was to see that he saw everything he wanted to see and make sure he had a good time."
Cheri put her hands on her hips and glared at the judge and Agent Brown as their eyebrows arched in response to her words.
"It wasn't like that!" she declared. "It was perfectly innocent. He wanted to go to the clubs and the tourist spots. A single man hanging around those places looks suspicious. You get a lot less notice if you're part of a couple making googly eyes at each other. Sometimes he'd want me to distract someone so he could get a closer look at things and, occasionally, I carried messages and things to his people."
"His people?" asked Hardcastle.
"He's a bit of a talker when he gets some drinks in him. He let slip that he was a sub-leader of a group called The Heavenly Holocaust."
"The Heavenly Holocaust," said Brown worriedly.
"Do you know them?" asked Mark.
"They're a religious doomsday group that started up in San Francisco a few years ago."
"Yeah," Cheri nodded. "Whenever he loosened up, he'd start talking about there being too many nonbelievers in the world and how much better things would be after the reckoning."
"You mean the 'Day of Reckoning'," asked McCormick.
"The Heavenly Holocaust believes the 'Day of Reckoning' is imminent when all non-believers will be wiped off of the Earth in natural disasters and violence," explained Brown.
"So they're just another nutty religious cult?" asked Hardcastle.
"They started out that way, but lately the bureau's been picking up information that they want to speed up the process by manmade acts of extreme random violence," said Brown. "So far it's only been a rumor."
"I always thought it was strange, "Cheri said, "that wherever we went The Professor wasn't checking out the women but he was always asking about the exits, and the ventilation systems. I figured he was casing the places out for a robbery. That's when I decided to give him a 'Cheri Special'."
"A 'Cheri Special'," asked Hardcastle unsure he wanted to hear the explanation.
'Yeah, I tell him that he needs to have a drink if he wants to blend in so I recommend the "Cheri Special'. It's a fruity drink but he doesn't know that it's 100 proof. It's a great way to pick up information. Guys like The Professor don't like thinking a girl can drink them under the table. So in no time, he's telling me about how his group is going to bring about the reckoning with Sarin."
"Sarin!" said Brown is a shocked voice. "Are you sure?"
"What's that?" asked Hardcastle.
"It's a volatile nerve gas that can be absorbed through the skin," explained Brown. "Even if it doesn't kill you it can cause permanent neurological damage."
"That's what I found out when I looked it up," said Cheri. "So yesterday, the professor gives me a package with a long list of directions about how to carry it and who to give it to. Then he said something about how lucky I am to be part of the reckoning. So I know I'm dealing with some real whackos." I knew I needed some help. I remembered Markie and came here."
"You remembered Markie and you came here," repeated Hardcastle as he turned to look at McCormick. He marveled at the young man's ability to attract the strangest women.
"Where's the package?" asked Brown.
"In my purse," answered Cheri.
"Where's your purse," asked Hardcastle as he cast a nervous glance around the den.
"In the gatehouse," admitted McCormick.
"The gatehouse," exclaimed Hardcastle. "You brought something that dangerous here?"
"Don't worry," assured Cheri. "It's safe."
"So how do you want to play this, judge?" asked Mark as he swept his majestically in front of his face like a director framing a scene. "I envision me playing Cheri's boyfriend who's found out she's moving something important and shakes them down for money."
"Not bad," said Hardcastle as he considered the scenario, "but you need some weight to the role. Let's have you as a lower level worker in a crime family and you report to me. That way they might think twice before they try anything against you. Plus we'll have to bring Frank in on this."
"Frank?" asked Cheri.
Lieutenant Frank Harper with LAPD. He's a friend of ours," answered McCormick.
"I don't know about bringing the cops in."
"We'll have to," insisted Hardcastle, "but we'll contact Heavenly Holocaust first so we can get an idea of what we are up against."
"No!" said Agent Brown as the others stopped talking and stared at her.
"No," repeated Brown. "This is a known terroristic organization with poison gas in its possession. The bureau's taking charge."
"Mary," McCormick placated, "we've done things like this before."
"Mark, this isn't a cheap television show," explained Agent Brown. "This is real life and we can't take chances with people's lives. I'm confiscating the purse and taking Cheri in."
"No you're not," said Cheri. She reached for her weapon but she was too slow.
Agent Brown's gun was out and aimed at the flame haired woman.
"Put your hands up," she ordered. "Milt, can I borrow some handcuffs?"
"Mark," Cheri whined.
"Judge," whined Mark.
"Mary's right," Hardcastle admitted reluctantly as he pulled some handcuffs from his desk and handed them over to the agent. "This is a federal matter. We can't ask her not to do her duty."
"But I came here for help," Cheri protested. "Not a one-way ride to the big dollhouse."
"I'll make note of your cooperation in my report," said Brown. "Mark, will you go to the gatehouse and get Cheri's purse."
"You want me to get the poison gas?" Mark said with a hint of panic in his voice.
"I'm guarding Cheri. Sarin is carried in two separate vials. It's not dangerous until the vials are mixed together," Brown said as she snapped the cuff on her prisoner.
"You don't have to worry, Markie" Cheri said with a smile. "It's totally harmless because I only have one of the vials in my purse. I put the nasty one someplace safe."
"Where?" asked Brown.
"It's hard to remember with these bracelets on," said Cheri holding up her hands.
"Come on," implored McCormick to the federal agent. "At least meet her half-way."
"Alright," agreed Agent Brown as she pulled out her cuff keys. "I'll take off the handcuffs but you have to tell me where the other vial is and I'm still going to take you in."
"That's better," said Cheri with a triumphant smile as she massaged her wrists. "It's in a daisy purple pouch behind the ice machine at the Blue Orchid Hotel on Hyaitt Street. I can show you right where it's at."
"I don't think so Miss Cherri. Milt, I want to check this out before I call in my team. I need to collect the vial but I don't want to move her more than necessary. Can I turn her over to you as a representative of the court?"
"Yeah," said Hardcastle, "but if you're going to pick up that vial you should have backup. Take McCormick."
"Milt, I'm a trained armed federal agent. I can take care of myself."
"Just humor me, willya," said Hardcastle. "A situation like this needs backup. If you don't want to call your office, either McCormick or I will go with you."
"Mark's not a representative of the court and given their past history, I don't know about leaving her with him."
"Past history," exclaimed McCormick indigently. "This is the second time I've seen her in my life. We haven't even been together for more than a couple of hours."
"Come on, Mark," said Brown as she ignored his outburst, "We'll take my car."
"What about the other vial?" asked McCormick.
"It should be safe enough where it is. Leave it until my team can pick it up."
McCormick walked over to Cheri and gave her a quick hug of assurance. "Don't worry," he said, "It'll be okay."
Mark and Agent Brown walked out of the house the house leaving the judge alone with Cheri. She turned her big soulful eyes on the Hardcastle who viewed her critically.
"I hope you're not planning on trying something," he said as he sat on the couch and pulled out the remote. "Cuz if you are, the cuffs are coming back out."
Cheri grabbed a throw pillow and clutched it protectively across her chest as the judge scrolled through the various channels before picking an old black and white western. Slowly her eyes began to mist as she attempted to stifle a small sniff. Her luscious lips began to tremble as tears streamed from her eyes and she began to sob.
Hardcastle sighed deeply as he settled back into the couch. He turned up the volume as Cheri's sobs became vocal.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly for the woman voted most likely to break up hearts and marriages by her high school class. She had tried tears, empathy, sympathy, anger, and seduction but the only reaction she got was a series of bored grunts. The aptly named Hardcase was more interested in a dusty old cowboy movie than the vast repertoire of her feminine charms. She found the whole experience discouraging. She had about forty-five minutes to make an escape before 'Little Miss Fed' came to take her away.
Hardcastle had lost count of the numerous times he sighed since McCormick and Mary had left. The red-headed possible accessory had tried everything short of bodily throwing herself on him in obvious attempts to gain his sympathy and drop his guard. Something he was sure she had gotten from McCormick ten seconds after 'Mr. Sucker for a Pretty Face' discovered her in his room. If she thought any of that was going to work on him, she was going to be sorely disappointed.
A hail of gunfire and a crashing sound brought both of them to their feet.
"Get under cover!" Hardcastle ordered as he raced to his desk and pulled out a handgun.
Cheri didn't need any additional instruction; she dived through an open window she had eyed throughout the night. She hit the ground with a rolling somersault and ducked behind a nearby bush. She stared up into the window as The Professor and a couple of men burst into the den with their guns drawn. The judge did not look out of the window as the men quickly disarmed him.
She stealthily slipped away under cover of the predawn light. She realized that somehow the men of the Heavenly Holocaust knew that she had betrayed them and followed her to the estate. Soon Mark and 'Miss Duty First' would walk into a trap and the terrorists would have both vials of the deadly concoction.
Cheri considered her choices; leaving these people to their fate would be the best way, if not only way, to avoid a stay at Hotel Fed but the cost would be high. Decision made she slipped away and never looked back.
"She's good," thought Hardcastle as the three angry armed men surrounded him and another one pulled the weapon from his hand. "She must have been waiting all night for the right time to jump out that window."
"Where is she?" demanded the lead man known as The Professor.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you think I'm opening any safe or giving you any money, you can forget it!" said Hardcastle as he adopted the personae of an ignorant citizen faced with a home invasion robbery.
"Don't play us for fools, old man," said The Professor. He nodded to his companions who forced the judge into a seat. "Our locator has told us that she's here."
"Who's this she you keep talking about," demanded the judge.
Two new men entered the room; one was carrying the Cheri's garnish purse. He lifted the front flap and removed a small tracking device which they planted earlier.
"I found this in the house out back," said the man. "But there's only one vial inside."
The Professor grabbed the purse and considered the implications.
"Who lives out there?" he asked.
"My groundskeeper."
The Professor pulled out a picture of Cheri and showed it to the judge. "Do you recognize this woman? Has she been seeing your groundskeeper?"
Hardcastle made a show of staring at the picture of Cheri.
"He couldn't rate a girl like that with a million dollars," he declared.
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"He must have met up with her. Perhaps they're planning on coming back."
"Or he just found the purse and he doesn't know anything about this woman you're looking for," Hardcastle countered.
None of the men appeared to consider his suggestion. The nearest one cocked his gun and pointed it at the judge's head.
"We don't need this man," he said. "All we have to do is wait for this groundkeeper and that woman to return then we can find out what she did with the other vial."
"Don't be so quick to throw away a card before you know its use, brother," The Professor said. We'll wait and see who returns. This man might be more use to us alive than dead. Tie him up."
Hardcastle knew it wouldn't be any use to struggle against the armed men. His only hope was to bide his time and wait for the right moment to act. He made a small prayer that somehow McCormick and Mary would not walk into an ambush. But that would depend on the questionable morals of the woman who had led the dooms day cult to the estate.
At a location about thirty miles away, the minutes had passed with excruciating slowness for McCormick as he and Agent Brown searched for the second vial. It took longer than anticipated as Cheri failed to mention behind which of the many hotel ice machine she hid the deadly package and Brown's refusal to split up.
It was bad enough that she made vague accusations that he might be tempted to use the lethal formula to help negotiate a better deal for Cheri but she had taken a motherly interest in criticizing his choice of feminine companions.
"I'm not saying I don't believe that you haven't been seeing that Cheri person; I'm just saying you're getting to the age when you should be thinking about settling down with a more solid and trustworthy type of woman."
"I really have been too busy with other things to be thinking about things like that," McCormick said with a sigh.
"Oh, if you are having trouble meeting women, I know several I could set you up with."
"That's not necessary," said McCormick suppressed the urge to blush. "I do okay meeting women."
"Yes, but look at the type of women you end up with," said Brown circling the discussion back to her original point. "They're not the right type of women for you."
Like a hungry dog with a favorite bone, she was unable to leave the topic alone as they left the hotel and headed for her car.
They were brought up short as a taxi cab pulled up in front of them. Despite the early hour, the cab driver had a big grin on his face as he leapt out of the car and hustled to open the front passenger door. McCormick only needed a quick glance at the passenger's long suntanned legs to understand why the man was smiling.
"Ohh, thank you so much Artie," Cheri cooed as she ran her hand up and down his broad arm. "After losing my purse, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along and offered me a ride."
"Anytime, honey," Artie responded, his grin getting wider at her touch. "And you got my card."
"I do and the next time that I need a ride; I'll call you personally," she said as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
McCormick watched in bemused curiosity as Cheri waved goodbye to the departing cab. As soon as the car was out of she ran to Mark. The flame haired woman wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long deep kiss.
McCormick, instinctively, put his own arms around her and returned the kiss. He, perversely, enjoyed the disapproval he sensed from Brown's glare. It felt like teenage rebellion.
"What are you doing here and where's Hardcastle?" he asked as the kiss ended.
Cheri turned contrite as she stepped away and looked him in the eye.
"Mark, I'm sorry. Somehow they followed me. They have the judge."
"What do you mean they have the judge?" Mark asked as his pulse began to quicken.
"We were watching TV when I heard some shots and a crash. The judge went for his gun but there were too many of them. He looked to be okay when I left."
"And exactly how did you get away?" Agent Brown asked accusingly.
"Through a window. I'm sure they didn't see me."
"I'll bet you've had a lot of practice going through windows," Brown guessed as she matched the unfriendly glare Cheri threw her way.
McCormick ignored the female bickering. They needed a plan.
"Okay, the bad guys didn't see you but they probably already found the vial in the gatehouse," he theorized. The judge will play dumb and claim not to know anything. They'll figure you went off with whoever lives in the gatehouse. So they'll be waiting for us to come back so they can get the other vial."
"How can you just guess all of that?" Brown asked.
"We do it all the time," McCormick said with a shrug. "We need to figure out a way to rescue Hardcastle."
"Mark," Agent Brown said sympathetically, "we can't let them have both vials. Milt wouldn't want that. And," her voice choked slightly, "he might already be dead."
"No!" Mark denied. He clutched the satchel carrying the judge's only lifeline to his chest, "I'd know if he was dead. They're holding him for leverage."
"They've got to be." He ended in a near whisper.
"We don't need the vial," said Cheri. "All we need is something that looks like it could have the vial in it. That should get us close enough to make a move."
"We need to bring my team in," Agent Brown said.
"Mary," Mark implored, "if we bring the feds in, can you promise they'll make getting Hardcastle out their top priority?"
Mary hesitated but she knew the answer. There were too many supervisors and master supervisors who were too interested in claiming glory or avoiding blame. Some would place the value of their own careers above the life of one civilian.
"No," she said honestly, "some would but others wouldn't."
"Then we need to handle it ourselves," said Mark.
"What we need is some more fire power," Cheri piped in as she joined the plot to free the judge.
"What about the weapons that Milt has hidden in the pool house?" asked Brown.
McCormick's eyebrow arched upwards as he remembered the vast assortment of weaponry the judge had hidden in a secret locked security room.
"How do you know about those?" he asked.
"A few months ago, Milt brought me up to look at his guns."
"Is that what he's called it," Cheri snickered.
I'll have you know, young lady, that Milton has always been a perfect gentleman," responded Agent Brown indignantly.
"Too bad," laughed Cheri.
Agent Brown ignored the immature woman and she turned her attention back to McCormick.
"I can send this vial to my supervisor with a letter explaining everything. That should buy us a couple of hours. Do you have the key to the weapon's room?"
As she looked up into McCormick slightly bemused expression, she figured out the answer.
"Sorry, stupid question. We'll still need to sneak onto the estate unseen."
"I've got that covered," said Cheri.
Fifteen minutes later, the three conspirators were ready to start the first step in the plan to rescue of Hardcastle.
Under the cold hard eyes of the religious fanatics, Milton Hardcastle carefully attempted to move his jaw. His captors had not been interested in his opinions of the futility of their mission and used their fists to make their displeasure known.
The men who had invaded his home seemed to consider him a useless old man of little threat. He decided to encourage their misconception so they'd be unprepared when he made his move.
The ringing phone caught all of them unaware. One of the brothers reached out for the phone, only to stop when The Professor signaled for him to allow the answering machine to retrieve the call.
After the fourth ring, Mark's voice boomed throughout the room. "Hello judge. I guess you're not up yet. Look…"
McCormick made a funny yelping sound followed by an embarrassed laugh. He continued in a softer voice as if talking to someone standing near to him.
"Not now Cheri, I'm talking to my boss."
"I just can't keep my hands off of you, handsome," Cheri said in a lusty voice.
Mark responded in a loud whisper, "Later, I promise."
"I met an old friend and I'm helping her out," Mark continued in regular speaking voice. "We're about ninety minutes out. I'll explain everything when we get back…"
McCormick suddenly laughed again.
"Stop that tickles. Bye judge."
The brothers of the Heavenly Holocaust grinned as the line went dead. The young couple was unaware that their crimes against the holy order had been discovered. Soon they would unknowingly return and the cabal would be able to continue their plans. The betrayer and her accomplices would be the first deaths to herald in the reckoning.
Hardcastle forced a scared and worried grimace to remain on his face. Secretly, he was relieved that Cheri had decided to help them out of the mess she had dropped in their lap but had been able to meet up with McCormick and warn him of the danger. All he had to do was be ready for whatever plan they had plotted.
About one hundred minutes later, he heard a car pull up to the house.
"One man coming to the house," said the man looking out the window. "He appears to be alone."
The Professor nodded his head as the other men pulled out their guns and waited for the unprepared victim to enter the house.
"Judge," McCormick yelled out in a jaunty voice, "where you at?"
The Professor motioned with his gun. One of the larger brothers grinned maliciously as he left the den to give a special welcome to the prodigal son. He was the same man who had taken particular pleasure in using his fists against the judge.
Hardcastle waited helplessly as he heard a struggle in the foyer. He reminded himself that McCormick knew he was walking into a trap. It galled him but he needed to continue his charade of the helpless old man.
A few minutes later, the large man returned to the room. He had one arm around McCormick's neck and the other holding Mark's right arm locked tightly to his side. He threw his prisoner roughly to the floor.
Before anyone could react, McCormick quickly bounced up and headed to Hardcastle's side.
"Are you okay, judge?" he asked relief heavy in his voice.
"I'm okay, Mark," Hardcastle answered in a blatantly false meek voice. "These men want something and I think you should cooperate with them."
McCormick's voice held just the right timbre of panic as he turned to the armed men and asked, "Who are you and what do you want?"
"The girl you were with and the vial she gave you," The Professor demanded as he pointed his gun at Mark's head.
McCormick allowed his eyes to shift guiltily to the left as he answered, "I don't know what you're talking about. I wasn't with any girl."
Two of the Holy Holocaust brothers grabbed McCormick as the large man threw a hard fist into his stomach. McCormick felt the bile rise up in his throat as he received multiple blows to his body before they dropped him to the floor.
Hardcastle tried to rise from his chair but was violently shoved back by the grinning Professor.
The Professor walked over to McCormick and pointed the gun to his chest. "Have you changed your mind about your answer?"
"I swear I don't know what you're talking about,"
The Professor looked at him strangely then turned the weapon toward Hardcastle.
"Perhaps you will feel differently if a shoot out the old man's knees."
"No! Don't!" gasped Mark as he hastily brought himself up to his knees and held one arm out pleadingly. "I was with a girl. Her name is Cheri. She just showed up last night and asked for a favor."
"Where is she," asked The Professor.
"I dropped her off at her car. She said she had a few calls to make. She's supposed to meet me here in a couple of hours."
"What did you do with the vial?"
"I don't know about a vial but she had me bury a package."
"Where is it?"
"You'll let us go, if I give it to you?"
"If you give it to us, I will free you and your friend," The Professor smiled. "We're not madmen. We merely want our property."
"It's buried it at the far end of the estate."
The Professor's eyes shone in delight as the pieces began to fall into place. It would be perfect; a secluded location, two loose ends, and a man who knew how to use a shovel. Then all they had to do was wait for the last fly to unwittingly enter the trap. Soon it would be time to begin the grand ending.
"Let's go," he ordered.
The Professor's followers grabbed Hardcastle and McCormick and propelled them out of the home. None of them wanted to miss the fun of watching the first sacrifice to their cause.
They walked several minutes in the early heat of the morning, when McCormick turned to The Professor with a worried look on his face.
Maybe the judge could wait back at the house?" he asked. It's pretty hot and it's a long walk."
"No," replied the grim faced The Professor. "It will be better if you are with your friend when you come to the end of your journey."
Hardcastle deliberately slowed his pace as he began huffed and puffed through the forced march. The man at his side became frustrated and brutally shoved Hardcastle on his back.
McCormick heard a gasp of pain and turned to see the judge fall to the ground. He risked the wrath of his guard and he ran back to help his friend to his feet.
"Are we going where I think we're going," whispered Hardcastle.
"No talking," ordered The Professor as he pulled McCormick away.
Hardcastle saw the quick nod of Mark's head.
"I just wanted to tell him that I'm sorry about all of this," explained McCormick.
"You are not the first man to have been tempted away from the true light by an unpure woman," The Professor conceded. "You may find forgiveness in the next world for that mistake."
After many more minutes of hard walking, they finally entered a hidden meditation stop on the far side of the estate. Hardcastle's exaggerated wheezing was painful to hear as he lurched away from his guard toward the stone bench located inside the clearing. He sank down on the bench as he pretended to catch his breath.
His head hung low until it almost touched his knees and his arms dangled at his side. His guard grinned to himself; he figured Hardcastle would be grateful to learn he wouldn't have to make the walk back to the house. The guard failed to notice the judge's hand reach to the underbelly of the bench and grasp the metal treasure taped in place.
At the other end of the clearing, the rest of men proceeded to a recently filled hole where a shovel lay casually against the tree.
"Dig it up," ordered The Professor as he threw the shovel at McCormick.
"Okay," Mark agreed, "but it's several feet down."
"We don't mind waiting," The Professor smiled. "In fact make it a larger hole; large enough for the two of you."
"But you promised you'd let us if we cooperated."
"We will free you. We will free you of all your concerns about the present world. Now dig or I will shoot you and your friend now."
McCormick cast an apologetic over to Hardcastle as he began digging through the recently overturned soil. He hoped Hardcastle understood the rescue plan and would be ready to act when he got the signal.
"Dig faster," ordered The Professor.
"Why will I be late for my own funeral?"
The Professor turned his gun towards the judge who tensed as he waited for the signal.
"Wait," said Mark. "I got to be careful. The vial is only wrapped in cloth and if I'm not careful, I could break it. Cheri told me it was important not to break it. And there're a lot of rocks here."
As if to prove his point, he bent down and threw a large rock from the hole.
The professor sighed in defeat, the Jezebel had not lied. It was hard to obtain the components of the Sarin. If the clumsy oaf destroyed the vial, they would be forced to postpone the Day of Reckoning. Such a thing was intolerable but so were the curly-haired fool's pathetic attempts to postpone his and his friend's inevitable fate.
"I think I got it!" McCormick shouted as he yanked a leather satchel from the dirt.
"Be careful, idiot," The Professor yelled. "That stuff is dangerous."
None of the men of the Heavenly Holocaust seemed anxious to take possession of the satchel. They silently watched as Mark climbed out of the hole with the bag clutched in one hand.
"Hand it over!" The professor ordered.
"Catch!" McCormick yelled as he threw it at The Professor's head.
The men of the doomsday cult moved to catch the satchel before it hit the ground.
At that same moment, Hardcastle drew out the weapon he had recovered from the underside of the bench, while Agent Brown and Cheri stepped into view; both pointing large deadly looking weapons at the fanatical religious sect.
"Freeze!" shouted Hardcastle.
"A trick," thought The Professor as the bag hit the ground. "We've been tricked by a fool, an old man, and two useless women. We will not dishonor our cause by surrendering to the likes of them."
The Professor lifted the weapon toward McCormick's head. He smiled at the surprise and fear he saw in the young man's eyes. If he could not win, he could take comfort in the knowledge he would take one of his enemies to the other side.
His finger tightened on the trigger as a sharp burning pain ripped through his shoulder. The pain was so great that he fell to his knees and his gun slipped from his fingers.
"The next one gets it though the chest," promised Agent Brown.
The minion of the Heavenly Holocaust looked into the hard eyes that surrounded them and threw their weapons down. The setback was unfortunate but there were others who would finish what they had failed to do. The ones that followed them would not only bring about the Day of Reckoning but would avenge the humiliation suffered here this day.
"Next time, I get a gun," McCormick declared as he pulled in a shaky breath.
"I'm sorry, Mark," Agent Brown apologized, "but you know it's against your parole conditions."
"I could have been killed."
"But you were, kid," Hardcastle said. "Geeze, you always got to complain about every little thing."
"But…Oh, forget it," McCormick pouted as he slumped to the ground. They had the guns, let them do the cleanup.
Agent Brown rounded up the brothers, Cheri performed first aid on The Professor's wounds, Hardcastle collected the abandoned weapons, and Mark grumbled about the general unfairness of the situation.
"Are you comfy over there, McCormick," Hardcastle growled. "You aren't getting too tired watching the rest of us work, are you?"
"Have a heart, judge," McCormick said with a small grin. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I spent part of the morning looking behind ice machines, then I had to sneak on the estate, bury the vial, clean up, get the guns which I didn't get one, walk into a trap, get beat up, hike back out here and dig the vial back up. I've had a busy day."
"I offered to bury the vial," defended Agent Brown.
"Hardcase would never let me hear the end of it, if I let you bury it," Mark laughed, out of relief and the absurdity of the situation.
"What's so funny, McCormick," demanded the judge.
"You, Mister Romance. Mary told me about what happened when you brought her up here. I can't believe the only thing you had to talk about was the best place to set up an ambush."
"At the time, Milt and I were discussing techniques and strategies," explained Agent Brown.
She blushed as Cheri's giggle.
"Not everybody is a sex maniac," added Hardcastle. Yeah, he and the pretty agent had discussed what they would do in various scenarios but they had done a lot more pleasant things, also.
McCormick shook his head as he stood up and turned back toward the path.
"We better get these guys back up to the house," he said. "Mary's team will be here soon."
The expected FBI backup was not at the manor when they brought their prisoners in. The mystery was solved when Agent Brown called her office and was informed that her supervisors were still dithering over the best way to handle the possible Sarin threat.
After she informed them that the other vial was secured and the members of the Heavenly Holocaust were arrested, they promised to be at the site shortly. They were true to their promise.
Several hours after the arrests, the estate was a mad house of activities as numerous agents squeezed themselves in to the clean-up operations to ensure they would get credit for breaking up the deadly conspiracy.
McCormick groaned as he lay back in the lounge chair. He had repeated his story more times than he thought humanly possible. He, finally, snuck out for a few minutes to escape from the noise and chaos. As he closed his eyes, he became aware of a conversation around the corner from where he rested.
"I swear I had no idea what they were going to do," sobbed Cheri to the male FBI agent that she had culled from the herd. "I was just supposed to show them around town. Now I find out those horrible people were going to have me carry that awful stuff. I would have been responsible for killing men, and women, and grandmas, and grandpas, and little babies, and even baby ducks."
"There, there," the agent said sympathetically as he tried to pull his eyes from her heaving chest. "I'm sure you didn't know what they were up to."
The kind words only made Cheri cry harder as her shoulders shook and large tears streamed down her check.
"Please don't look at me," she pleaded as she turned her large soulful eyes to the agent. "My makeup is running. I must look hideous."
"No, you look fine. More than fine," the agent assured her.
"You're too nice to me," Cheri said as she gave him a weak brave smile. "I don't deserve it."
"Don't say things like that."
"It's true," Cheri sniffled. "They're going to take me downtown and take my picture and I just look horrible. Do you think I could go somewhere and clean up?"
"I don't know."
"You'd come with me, of course," Cheri added. "What could I do against a great big strong man like you?"
"I guess it would be okay."
"Oh, thank you." Cheri beamed at him.
"I think we can go in there," the agent said as he led her toward the gatehouse.
McCormick watched with half-opened eyes as the agent led Cheri away from the others. Mark noted the agent's stance was more protective than custodial by the way his arm was lightly draped over the redhead's shoulder.
"Poor guy," thought McCormick. "He has no idea what's coming."
As if she heard his thoughts, Cheri turned her head and threw him a quick wink before she rested her head against the agent and told him her tale of woe.
It had been a few days since the arrest of the members of the doomsday cult. The roundup was nearly a total success. A computer password discovered on The Professor allowed the federal agents access to information on other followers of the Heavenly Holocaust spread throughout the world. The cells were broken up with their members arrested or on the run.
The only black mark in the operation was the disappearance of a potential material witness who vanished while being detained by the agency. The agent in charge of questioning her was discovered unconscious and handcuffed to a radiator in the gatehouse. Mark never read the report of how a woman weighing about 130 pounds, sopping wet, took out a six foot plus federal agent but he bet it was a doozy.
"I'm home," McCormick yelled as he entered the main house. He was pleased that the judge remembered to lock the door. This time he was going to make sure they kept to security program.
He relocked the door and started rummaging through the refrigerator for a pre-supper snack.
"What are you doing here?" asked Hardcastle as he entered the kitchen.
"Well," answered McCormick with his head still in the fridge, "about five years ago a crazy old judge asked me to help him track down criminals who had escaped justice, I said yes, and the rest is history."
"I mean why aren't you in class."
"I told you this morning that they cancelled tonight's class." McCormick stood up he sniffed the air.
"Are we getting mold? It smells kind of musky in here."
"You're on your own for dinner tonight."
Mark turned to face the judge and noticed the man had shaved and was wearing a new shirt.
"Going out?" he asked.
There was a soft knock on the kitchen door followed by the sound of a key going into the lock. McCormick's eyebrow rose and Hardcastle's face reddened as Agent Mary Brown entered the home.
"A key?" mouthed McCormick as the judge ignored him and greeted his guest.
"Oh, you're here," said Agent Brown when she noticed Mark standing by the judge. "Milt said you were in classes tonight."
"Going out for a night on the town?" McCormick asked as he noticed her make-up and tight thigh length dress.
"Nothing like that," Agent Brown said as her face, also, began to redden. "Milt and I are going out for a celebratory dinner."
"Celebratory?"
"Yeah," said Hardcastle. "Mary got a special commendation for shutting down those Heavenly Holocaust bozos before anyone else even knew there was a threat."
"You're welcome to join us," offered Agent Brown half-heartedly. "I mean you were a big help in shutting them down."
"You don't want to go, do you?" asked Hardcastle as he fixed an expectant glare on the bemused law student.
McCormick knew when two plus one equaled a crowd.
"I'd love to," he said as he thumped his hand down on the book lying on the counter. "But I really got to study tonight. No rest for the weary law student."
"That's too bad," said Agent Brown, "maybe we can get together some other time."
"I can wait for you guys to get home," said McCormick with a wicked grin at the couples' discomfort. "Then we can all sit together and have a nice long talk."
"Um, well," said the flustered federal agent. "We probably won't be back until late."
"Don't worry," Mark assured her. "I'm sure I'll still be studying when you get back."
Hardcastle leaned over and whispered in McCormick's ear. "Do it and I'll burn your law books."
Without missing a beat, McCormick gave an exaggerated yawn and said, "On the other hand, I am pretty tired. I think I'll turn in early tonight."
"We should probably get going Milt," Mary said with a relieved smile. "We have reservations."
They were almost out the door when McCormick threw up his hands and said, "Oh, what the heck, I have to eat anyway. I…"
His speech turned into a muffled scream as Hardcastle turned back to face him and casually stomped hard on his instep.
"Did you say something, Sport?" Hardcastle asked.
"Just have a nice time," Mark said through gritted teeth, pleased that it appeared to be the right words to get the heavy jurist off of his foot.
He watched as the judge escorted his date out to her car.
"Cheri was right," he thought, "they do make a cute couple."
McCormick made a couple of sandwiches which he quickly wolfed down before he headed back to the gatehouse. As he entered his home, he was aware of the familiar scent of an exotic perfume which hung heavily in the air.
Cheri appeared to be wearing little more than one of his old t-shirts as she leaned sexily against the wall.
"You guys really need to improve your security system," she said with an inviting smile.
"But we meet the most interesting people," McCormick said. "What are you doing here?"
The missing material witness sashayed over to him and placed her arms around his neck.
"Surely you didn't think I'd leave without saying goodbye and thanks," she said as she pressed her soft lips against his.
"Well, I was hoping we'd see each other again."
"No time like the present."
"I'm not interrupting your studies, am I?"
Her soft breath blowing into his ear convinced him that nuances of contract law could wait another day. Like many times in his past, an improbable situation presented itself and he impulsively grabbed at it. The habit had led him down many strange paths; some good and some bad.
As he leaned in for another kiss, he knew this path promised to be good, very good.
Several hours had passed, when McCormick woke up with a start. He turned on the light and he realized he was alone in the room. He sniffed the air but he could only smell the scent of the garden flowers as they wafted in through his open window.
"Just a dream," he thought as he lay back in the bed. "A real fantastic dream."
As he turned to switch off the lights, he saw the bedroom mirror. Words written in bright red lipstick covered the reflective surface.
The words 'Call Me' told him that it hadn't been a dream.
Mark smiled as he turned off the light and reviewed the events of the past days; a dangerous but outlandish group of criminals, the incredible way they were dragged into a case that was way out of their league, the improbable way everybody acted, the lack of cohesion in the series of event, the witty banter, the quirky characters and two beautiful women.
"Thank you, Lawrence Hertzog," Mark thought as he drifted back to sleep to await whatever adventure tomorrow would bring.
THE END