Chapter One
Several Weeks Later

Micky sighed to himself as he wandered down the streets of the Los Angeles suburb. It had been nearly a month since Baby Face had disappeared and had been declared dead by the police. And that meant that it was nearly two months since he himself had been shot by the heartless mobster. He was almost completely recovered now, for which he was grateful. He had been playing the gigs with the others again and for the most part, it seemed that everything was normal.

Except that he could not ignore the eerie feeling that he was being followed. Narrowing his eyes, he spun around. The street seemed to be entirely deserted, save for himself. Was it all in his imagination? No, he did not want to think that. It made him feel as if he was paranoid or even crazy, and he was certain that he was not either of those things.

If someone truly were following him, maybe it was Tony or one of his gang members. The police had never found any of them, and Micky had decided that Tony was probably still alive but recovering and that the gang was hiding somewhere. Of course, Tony could also be dead and the rest of the gang was hiding while they determined what they should do next. There was not any end to the possibilities. If he got down to it, there was even the chance that it was Baby Face who was shadowing him—if anyone truly was.

"Alright," he finally yelled after things had gone on like this for another block, "if someone's following me, I want you to come out right now before I really get mad." It was more likely that he would become panicked instead of mad, but there was not any sense in mentioning that fact. Nervously he looked around. There was only silence. Could he relax?

"So, I've caught up to you at last," growled an unfamiliar, but dangerous voice. Swallowing a cry of alarm, Micky slowly turned around. He was facing a vicious-looking man wearing a pin-striped suit and bearing a scar on the left side of his face.

"Oh, hi," he gulped, trying to weakly smile and to quickly think of a way out of this mess at the same time. "I don't think we've met."

The man gave him an expression of mock hurt. "You've forgotten? You know, Morales, I didn't think that you ever forgot anything—especially not one of your old rivals." He advanced threateningly and Micky backed up, his eyes widening.

"Hey, come on!" he gasped. Now he understood what was happening—and it terrified him. "I'm not Baby Face Morales! I'm the other guy! Remember, they talked about someone who looked just like Baby Face?"

This man was not buying it. "Yeah, I heard something about that," was the thoughtful reply, "but that's just the sort of excuse Baby Face would hide behind. I can't know whether you're really the musician guy or not." He grabbed a handful of Micky's shirt. "Maybe Baby Face would even decide to pretend to be the musician, in order to get off scot-free. Maybe it was really that other guy who went over the falls and Baby Face is the one who came back alive." He yanked the Monkee toward him with a threatening air.

In desperation Micky struggled to get free. "No!" he yelped. "That's not true at all! Baby Face is sneaky and vicious! I'm not! I'm really not! Look, do I look sneaky and vicious? I'm just a fun-loving kid!"

Not impressed, the hood shoved Micky hard against a nearby brick wall. "I've never really known Baby Face to act so panicky before," he admitted, "but that could all be part of the act." He pushed harder and Micky strained against him. The bricks were digging painfully into his back. "Or maybe," the crook decided, "you're not so tough without your gang members to back you up."

Now Micky was even more panicked. He grabbed the man's wrists, struggling to pry them away from him. "I'm not Baby Face!" he said in complete frustration. "Can't you believe me?"

"We never believe anyone in our line of work," was the sneering reply.

Again Micky was slammed against the wall. Stars and colors danced in front of his eyes. Groaning, he reached up to rub at his head. He had been hit very hard; was he going to pass out? If he did, would he even wake up again? With this man insisting on attacking him, it was hard telling what would happen. He had to battle to stay conscious.

"Hey, LeRoy, what are you doing?" Vaguely through the fog there was another voice talking. Micky blinked away the last of the stars. Another man was approaching who looked like a mobster. The Monkee swallowed hard. Now, for sure, it was all over for him.

"I've cornered Baby Face Morales," LeRoy answered with a smirk. "He's a dead man now."

"You idiot!" snapped the second person. "This isn't Baby Face. Even if the guy was acting, he wouldn't be able to stand to keep at it if someone was attacking him. If that was really Baby Face, you'd be dead now yourself!"

Now the speaker came over to Micky, searching his half-dazed eyes. After a moment he nodded in approval. "And just look in his eyes, for crying out loud. You know that Baby Face's eyes are cold and hard. This guy doesn't have the eyes of a sneaky, vicious murderer. Let him go, LeRoy. You've made a mistake."

LeRoy frowned in suspicion, obviously still not quite convinced. But after a moment his eyes narrowed and he nodded as well. "Alright. Sorry about that, buddy," he said to Micky, releasing him and stepping back. He would have to accept his friend's word on the matter; the more he thought about it it was obvious how very odd and out of character this person seemed to be for Baby Face. There truly was not a logical reason why this would be Baby Face, so perhaps the news story was actually correct and the real Baby Face was already deceased.

"It's . . . it's okay," Micky managed to weakly say, gripping the brick wall as he tried to straighten up. "I just hope it doesn't happen again."

"It won't," the second man assured him as he started leading LeRoy off.

Micky sighed in relief when they were gone. Slowly he pushed himself away from the wall, looking around for any other signs of life. But now that the gangsters had fled, Micky seemed to be the only one left on the street. He frowned slightly. That was odd.

He stumbled away, holding a hand to his forehead.

"Man, I must've hit my head harder than I thought," he mumbled to himself as he made his way to a nearby bench. At this point, it did not look like he could even get back home. Maybe if he just sat there for a few minutes and rested, the dizziness would pass and he would be able to continue on his way. At least, that was the original plan.

Micky did not know how long he ended up staying on that bench. Almost as soon as he sank down on it, the light-headedness overwhelmed him and he fell unconscious. Several people walked by him while he was in that state, but they dismissed him as being drunk or on drugs and did not stop to help. By the time he came to again, it was night.

Slowly he opened his eyes, trying to focus on the world around him. In the distance there were car motors and horns, and on the block he was on the sounds of people walking past came every now and then. At first nothing seemed to make sense. Where was he? Why was he on a bench in the middle of seemingly nowhere? And why was he wearing such ridiculous clothes?

He frowned, carefully pulling himself into a sitting position. Another wave of dizziness began to come over him and he winced and reached to rub at his head. That seemed to quell the pain somewhat. He tried to relax. If he could just remain calm, maybe he could sort out what had happened.

He had been attacked, that was obvious enough. But who had done it, and why had they left him alive? He had so many enemies, after all, and they all wanted him dead, not merely rendered unconscious with a headache. He could get nasty when he had a headache, or any other kind of injury. And if he could remember who had done this to him, they would regret it.

"Ow," he hissed, leaning forward on the bench.

After another long moment, he felt well enough to attempt standing. He would go to the Purple Pelican. Perhaps someone there would know what had happened. And at any rate, Ruby would likely be there. She would fuss over him and be concerned that he was badly hurt, but at least she would do everything she could to try to ease the pain. Right now, that was the main thing he wanted. Well, that and finding something more fitting to wear.

Micky never stopped to think about going back to the Pad, or what the other three would be thinking. Of course, this was not Micky's fault and he could not be blamed. The mind often works in strange ways, and after the physical trauma that Micky had suffered, coupled with the reason why it had happened, he had woken up believing himself to be Baby Face Morales.

xxxx

The other Monkees, meanwhile, were frantically looking for their friend and wondering where on earth he could have gone. They had been all over the city, and though some people had remembered seeing Micky in the afternoon, no one had seen him since night had fallen. By now they were highly concerned.

"I just don't understand it!" Davy said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "He was just going on a bloody walk. How long could that take him?"

"Well, it shouldn't take him seven hours, at any rate," Mike muttered.

Peter swallowed hard, the worry apparent in his eyes as they wandered around another corner. "Maybe Baby Face isn't dead after all and he came and took him," he worried.

Mike frowned. "It's been almost a month," he said. Still, it was a possibility that they should not ignore. It was hard to know what was going on in a deranged mind such as Baby Face's. In spite of the fact that Micky had tried to help the gangster back up when he had fallen over the edge, perhaps Baby Face would not be grateful and would simply come after Micky again. Mike was not willing to put anything past him.

"He could've been in hiding all this time," Peter pointed out. He was growing a bit uneasy as they headed for the bad part of the city. He moved closer to Mike.

"He probably has been, too," Davy added, "if he's still alive at all." Quickly he moved out of the way as a man staggered past him and the others. "And why are we coming down this way at all?" he exclaimed, feeling in his pocket to make certain that his wallet was still intact. "Micky is never in this part of town."

"Well," Mike sighed, "we oughtta check everywhere. Someone could've mugged him and dragged him here somewhere." But he could not deny that he also did not like wandering around in this neighborhood. There were all kinds of punks and hoods that roamed through the area, in addition to the drunks and drug addicts. Mike wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Maybe we'd better go to the police," Peter gulped, seeing two men up ahead who were loudly singing off-key as they waved half-empty liquor bottles around.

"They probably can't do much," Davy sighed.

"It wouldn't hurt to try, though," Mike admitted, leading the others across the street before the two inebriated men could catch up with them.

"It's too bad that we don't have a way of finding out if Baby Face is back," Davy muttered. "The police just decided that he's dead and probably don't think anymore about him, but he could be out somewhere right now, planning some new heist."

"Or kidnapping Micky," Peter added with a frown.

xxxx

Ruby sighed softly to herself as she stacked the cocktail glasses on the bar in a pyramid formation. Life had been dull and quiet without Baby Face around, and even though she did not miss the chases and the crimes and running from the police, she did miss him.

It was somewhat surprising that she had not been charged with any crimes. But then again, the police did not really know that she was anything beyond a girl working in the Purple Pelican whom Baby Face occasionally came to see between capers. She had been taken in for questioning when they had found her arriving at the canyon hideout, but she had said only that Baby Face had mentioned he would be there and that she had been worried about him, so she had gone to see what was happening. The police did not have any evidence to connect her with any of Baby Face's crimes, so they had let her go.

Was he truly dead? She had not seen the accident at the falls, but Rocco had described it to her when she had reached the canyon. She had been horrified.

Rocco had been the only member of Baby Face's new gang who had managed to avoid the police. He truly wanted to get away from the criminal underworld for good, after all the trouble he had ended up in, but it was not likely that he would be able to. Ruby could not imagine that she would stop being involved with the criminal element, as long as Baby Face was alive.

At the gasps of astonishment behind her she blinked in confusion and turned around. Was that muscleman assassin back again, the one who had easily overpowered another notorious assassin during a drunken brawl? They had turned the entire dive into a madhouse. She was not anxious to see them again.

But then her eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the young man standing in the doorway. "Baby Face!" she cried, running over to him.

He regarded her calmly and coolly, as was his way. "Yeah, I made it back," he replied, and then led her away from everyone else. "Some idiot attacked me on the street," he told her gruffly, his eyes expressing his annoyance.

Ruby looked at him with worry. "Are you okay, Baby Face?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he growled. "I just need something for this headache I've got." He reached up and rubbed at the back of his head in emphasis.

"I can get you something," Ruby offered, still concerned. Baby Face always tried to play down any injuries he received, so with him admitting that he was in pain it must have been a very bad assault. Quickly she took him into the backroom and began searching through the cupboards to find the pain relievers.

Baby Face leaned against the counter, observing her in silence.

After a moment Ruby located the aspirin and handed it to her beau, along with a glass of water. "Do you know who attacked you?" she asked. "It wasn't Tony's gang, was it?"

Baby Face grunted and swallowed the pill. "I don't think so," he replied. "They want me dead. They wouldn't just rough me up and leave me alone." He looked at Ruby upon seeing her confused expression. "Isn't it obvious?" he snapped. "I don't remember the attack! I just woke up laying on a bench and I realized what must have happened."

This was all the more alarming. And in addition, Ruby was still reeling from seeing him come in at all. She had been almost convinced of his death and then he had appeared. "Baby Face, everyone thinks you're dead," she said carefully after a moment.

Baby Face looked at her. "The police too?" he demanded.

"Uh huh." Ruby bit her lip. "They said that you were dead on the very day after you . . . fell," she finished quietly. "They found your hat, but not anything else."

"Idiots." Baby Face slammed the glass down on the counter and slumped into the nearest chair he could see. "They were just looking for a good excuse to say that I'm out of their hair for good. They should have known better."

He rubbed his eyes. He might have offered an explanation as to how he had survived the accident, but the truth was that he could not remember that, either. He was certain of his identity, and he remembered people such as Ruby and Tony, but the details of his life were lost to him. He assumed, of course, that this was due to the knock on the head he had taken. He certainly never stopped to think that perhaps he actually was not Baby Face at all.

Ruby watched him, seeing how weary he looked. "Maybe you should come rest, Baby Face," she suggested. "There's a cot back here that you could lay on. . . ."

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "I don't need to rest." He gazed up at her. "Where's Rocco and the gang?" He actually did not feel well enough to go about committing a heist at the moment, but he wanted to know where his gang members were so that he could contact them when he wanted to. After all, in a day or so he was certain to feel better. It was just a simple bump on the head.

"Most of them are in jail, Baby Face," Ruby said slowly. "Rocco's not, but I think he's the only one who got away."

Baby Face looked irritated as he began to toy with the ruby ring on his finger. "That's just a minor setback," he said finally. "It won't be hard to find others to pull into the mob. It never has been." And that was true. Baby Face had always been able to find people who wanted to join forces with him. Some of them knew of his notoriety and the fact that he had successfully pulled off so many crimes. They then wanted to be with him in order to get rich themselves. Others seemed to join him out of the fear of what he might do if they did not. And still others, such as Tony, had had even more complicated and twisted reasons.

Ruby sighed softly and came over to him. Gently she began massaging his shoulders. "Why don't we just go away, Baby Face?" she pleaded. "We could get away from all the crimes and the rival mobs and the danger. It seems like something is always going wrong. One of these days, you're probably going to get hurt really badly . . . or worse." She felt tears rising to her eyes. "I've thought that you were dead, too. . . ."

"You should've had more faith in me," Baby Face retorted. "I don't go down easily." He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax as Ruby worked. She was doing a very good job. She could easily get a job as a professional massage therapist if she ever wanted. "And you know I'm not going to get out of the Mob," he continued. "We're making good money."

"But it would be better to quit when you're ahead," Ruby objected, a bit amazed that Baby Face was in such a relatively calm mood. She would have thought that after suffering such an attack, he would be seething. He must have been hurt quite badly and was exhausted. "I'm so afraid, Baby Face," she whispered. "I'm afraid that someday you're going to really get gunned down by someone who's angry at you, or that you'll get arrested again and they'll give you the death penalty. . . ."

"None of that's going to happen," Baby Face answered.

He frowned at the sound of angry and indignant yelling out in the main barroom. "What's going on out there?"

Ruby went over to the door to listen. "I don't know, Baby Face," she replied, "but it doesn't sound good." It also did not sound like the beginnings of a simple brawl. It sounded more like a loud and gruff voice was furiously interrogating the patrons. After a moment, Baby Face got up and came over to hear as well.

"Alright, punks," a gruff voice could be heard to snap, "we had a report from someone that a guy resembling Baby Face Morales showed up here a while ago. Now who's willing to tell me if that's the truth?" Silence was his answer and he grew all the more furious. "Am I going to have to cart everyone in as accessories to a crime?"

Baby Face's eyes narrowed. "It's a cop," he growled. "He'll probably start searching the place. We have to get out of here." There was a certain nervousness in his heart, which he did not understand. He had run from police officers many times and had not hesitated to kill them. And yet, he could not ignore the feeling that this was not who he was. That was preposterous, but the perception would not go away. Frustrated, he turned away and tried to disregard it.

"Where will we go, Baby Face?" Ruby asked. "If someone does say something, they'll probably mention me and the policeman will try to find out where I live, so I don't think we could go there." It was obvious that he was upset, but she felt sure it was because of the arrival of the officer.

Baby Face turned, heading for the back exit. Quickly, Ruby scurried after him.

"We won't," Baby Face replied as he grabbed her wrist and half-dragged her outside to where she had left her car. "Do you know where Rocco's staying?" he demanded, not wanting to admit that he could not remember what sort of a hideout they had last been using.

Ruby swiftly unlocked the doors and climbed into the driver's seat. "He told me, but I'm not sure if I can get there," she replied.

Baby Face growled, getting into the passenger seat. "You'd better," he retorted.

Ruby pealed out of the parking lot so quickly that he had to grab for his hat. "Watch it, baby!" he scolded. "Have you been taking lessons from Steve Blauner?"

"Sorry, Baby Face," Ruby apologized. "I just want to get us away from the police."

"Whatever," the mobster muttered as they sped around a corner.