Matt looked out the window of the sun-room at the end of the East Wing. Scott happily splashed about in the shallow end of the pool, Ms. Bergstein carefully watching him. The sun would soon be setting, but by then Scott would be pleasantly worn out to not protest going to bed right after dinner.

Speaking of dinner, the aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make his stomach wake up and take notice for the first time in a week.

"Another few minutes and we'll be ready," Alex called out from the kitchen.

Bruce appeared at the door of the sitting room, his face serious, "Have a moment?"

Matt moved away from the window. "Of course."

Bruce came in, followed by Ms. Malcomb. Bruce stood to the side of the doorway. "I know this isn't a good time, but I think there is a business problem you should hear about."

He turned to Ms. Malcomb, who held a pack of files and envelopes to her chest. She adjusted her glasses nervously. "I'm so sorry to bring this to your attention at a time like this, sir, but I think you would want to know."

She glanced at Bruce nervously and then back at Matt. Matt prodded, "Go ahead."

"It's about Ms. Trakker's project, sir. I started looking into it further, to see if I could find anything that could be provided as evidence to track down… uh, well, anyway, I did find some recent activity." She stopped to clear her voice before rushing forward, "Sir, it's Mr. Bedlow. Recently he's contacted and initiated orders with clients with rather shady pasts or connections. Countries, militaries, groups."

"So, that's why the orders looked so good." Matt mused, recalling the accounting summary he'd seen only a few weeks before.

"It's more than that, sir. This morning he sent out an invitation to buyers for the assets of the major projects, to these same entities."

Matt had enough awareness of his surroundings to know that Alex was now standing in the doorway listening. He couldn't help wonder if a cover company for Mayhem could be found on the list. Perhaps that was how he knew what secrets the research labs held? He glanced at Bruce, who still held the same serious gaze.

"Do you have a list?"

Ms. Malcomb handed over two sheets stapled together. Matt read down only half through the first page before saying, "Ms. Malcomb, have the jet prepared for immediate departure. We return to L.A. tonight."

"Shall we pack Scott's…"

"Scott stays here with Ms. Bergstein," Matt interrupted while still reading. "I want him to remain in the security of this house. Bruce, I'll need your help."

"Of course." Bruce said, relieving Matt. He had no right to ask him for more help. He'd already delayed going back to his job for more time than he had a right to. Matt mentally made a note to call Bruce's supervisor to thank him for sparing Bruce for so long.

It was good to have such good friends.

Matt looked over to Alex, "Sorry, I'm going to miss your special meal."

"Don't worry about hurting my feelings. As for dinner, you're taking some with you." Alex immediately turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Matt took the time to look out at Scott playing. He was thoroughly soaked with a big grin on his face. Scott turned and dove back into the water, coming up a few feet away, doing his best imitation of a dolphin.

Time for changes, and what better to start than where to live.

Emily had been right. This was where he belonged. A place where Scott could grow up with plenty of space around him to play. A place away from the city. Away from where he'd lost Emily.

A place he would come right back to after taking care of yet another snake-in-the-grass.

~x~~x~~x~

Not only did Matt not sleep that night, but neither did a good number of lawyers and accountants. By the time he walked into the ISF Research building with a fleet of trucks outside, and a security firm hired to also act as movers, he had moved past the fatigue. His senses alert, he felt ready to tackle anything. The cup of coffee in his hand and the anger went a long way towards helping.

Ms. Malcomb stayed by his side through all of it, being her usual efficient self, although she managed a catnap in the early morning hours as they waited for documents to be drawn up.

Bruce supervised the packing and loading while Matt waited at the front doors in the company of two security guards who guarded the once-elegant lobby. Every few minutes another security guard would walk by the front doors on his rounds, the guard standing outside the door acknowledging each lap around the building.

As he waited his mind went over the documentation Ms. Malcomb had managed to get her hands on, once again amazed at his luck in getting someone so resourceful to work for him. Another few days and it would have been too late to do anything at all.

A black stretch limousine glided to a stop in front of the building. Two more security guards came out of the back of the building to guard the lobby. Matt set his coffee cup down on the remains of the receptionist's deck and stepped out the front door with Ms. Malcomb and two more security personnel behind him.

Another man stopped in the process of following Mr. Bedlow out of the limousine, someone Matt didn't recognize. Mr. Bedlow glanced passingly at his entourage before putting on one of the worst fake smiles Matt had ever seen. "Matt, I didn't expect you here today."

"I'm sure you didn't. I'm in the midst of tying up a few business loose ends, preparing for a personal move. It was best we got this out of the way as soon as possible," Matt said, holding out his hand. Ms. Malcomb immediately filled it with a thick stuffed legal-sized yellow envelope. He immediately handed it to Mr. Bedlow. "Contract clause 21, subsection B. Consider it activated as of early this morning."

The fake smile slipped. "You're what?"

"As a majority owner of this partnership, I am enacting my right to buy out your stake in this particular venture. You will find all the necessary files in the envelope, along with a bank draft for the full amount agreed to in the contract. Our partnership is now officially dissolved."

The fake smile completely disappeared. "I have full buyers, Mr. Trakker. I don't think you realize the work I've put into these deals and the amount of money involved. Half of which goes to you. When I walk away, I take those buyers with me."

"And please be sure to pass on to those buyers that I'm not interested in selling any of the assets of these research projects," Matt said smoothly. "I wish you well in your future business endeavors."

Matt turned and walked back into the building before Mr. Bedlow could respond. The two security guards stayed near the door while Matt retreated into the shadows of the dark lobby, grabbing his cup of coffee as he did. Mr. Bedlow ripped open the envelope, gave one look at the top paper and scowled at the door. He turned and a few moments later the limousine drove away.

"You just cost him a lot of money," Ms. Malcomb said quietly. "It's the only thing he loves. Best be watchful."

"He'll be losing more than what he hoped to sell all this for. He also just lost several electronic contracts and a potential oil deal." Thanks to a few calls Matt had made to a few close business associates to announce the end of the partnership. The Trakker family wasn't only known for their wealth, but also for their ethics and charitable activities. As he'd expected, other businesses had already reconsidered working with someone the Trakker family no longer would. "Considering the number of loans he's taken out, he best watch himself or wind up in the poor house."

"Such a fate would be fitting," Ms. Malcomb said, trying to hide a pleased smile.

Matt could only agree.

~x~~x~~x~

"Not a bad start." Miles said, looking over the refining equipment. "It won't produce much at first."

Dr. Conterez shifted nervously, "That's why I've started construction on a secondary set-up, sir."

"I see we've been asked to produce several barrels," Miles said.

The set-up might be primitive, but he was impressed with Dr. Conterez's imagination with the engineering. And the additive. Oh yes, that had definite possibilities. He could understand the Major's great interest in it. If it could be coupled with an engine specifically designed to take advantage of it, the results could be phenomenal.

His mind began going over the lists of projects he was now overseeing, wondering which one it might be. He didn't have all the detailed files yet.

"I'll start, sir, but I am concerned about the toxic fumes. We have no filtration here. As yet, I have not been able to alter the process to eliminate them. It's quite dangerous for anyone to be in the same room. Perhaps with better equipment…"

"I doubt we will be able to convince Major Brachili that such a system needs to be ordered in the time-frame he's demanded the additive to be ready," Miles neatly interrupted.

"Oh dear." The older man looked out the window, growing more nervous with time.

Miles stepped away from the contraption filling the far corner of the room, "We simply must make do with what we have. Wear an environmental suit attached to breathing canisters while producing. We'll set up a high-powered fan in the window to vent the fumes. The winds have been constant lately, we'll use nature to do the rest."

Dr. Conterez muttered away to himself as he worked around the room. Miles left him to his devices, the old man the least of his concerns. Dr. Conterez loved his work, and worked diligently at it all his waking hours, his only unhappiness being the loneliness from the forced separation from his family. Like the other two scientists in the building, Dr. Conterez had not come willingly.

And he would use that later.

As he left the room, he heard a loud thump at the end of the corridor. He hurried towards it. As he'd hoped, more supplies were in the process of being off-loaded. And in the midst of the group of three men was one he hadn't seen since first arriving.

"Go up, one eye! Get moving, or we'll take the other eye!" One of them yelled out as he pushed one of the barrels down the loading planks with a speed that made Miles cringe.

Miles watched Dagger work for a moment, a patch adorning one eye. Dagger worked despite the insults hurled his way by the other men in two languages, only one of which Dagger understood. But, the flushed face told him that Dagger understood the meaning behind them.

"Careful with the barrel!" Miles yelled at the man in the truck as another barrel rolled quickly towards the rear ramp, "You want to blow up the entire compound?"

The man scowled at Miles, but stopped the barrel. He dropped to the ground and then worked to gently roll the barrel down out of the back of the truck.

"Still around, I see," Miles said quietly as Dagger lugged a big crate into the back of the storage room.

"They haven't killed me yet, but not for want of trying," Dagger muttered back.

"Make yourself useful to the idiots. Ingratiate yourself. Then be ready when I tell you to move," Miles said as the barrel reached the ground.

"Have a plan?"

"Working on it. It won't be long now."

Dagger snickered and stood up straighter, his face clearing of its flush. "Just tell me what to do and when."

Miles nodded just once, pleased. It was all starting to fall into place.

~x~~x~~x~

From the time he arrived back in Colorado with his business completed in L.A., he wasn't thinking, only moving on autopilot. He knew it but couldn't stop himself. Alex came by after work every evening, with Bruce calling in from L.A. at all times of the day. One part of him felt angry at their nurse-maiding, the other part didn't care.

The clear clarity that had accompanied him in the dissolving of the partnership seemed to have left him in the days afterwards. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get it back.

Ms. Bergstein had remained in L.A., wanting to remain with her extended family. Her sister, Ms. Simpson who lived with her husband nearby, had taken over as part-time nanny for Scott. However, the arrangement meant that Matt was without her services at night.

Such very long and sleepless nights.

~x~~x~~x~

The only thing that kept him caring about the world in general. His cold relapsed the day after the funeral, and felt completely miserable. A young boy who, of course, wanted his mother to make him feel better.

Matt cradled him against his chest, gently rocking back and forth in the big padded rocking chair next to his bed. Scott sniffled once and fell into a deeper sleep. Meanwhile, the images of the funeral haunted Matt. Images from it played across his mind over and over again.

His arm starting to hurt from supporting Scott, he carefully lifted the boy and set him down in his bed. Propping him up slightly, he pulled the blankets up to cover him. Scott hardly twitched. Matt looked down at him for a moment, and then with a deep sigh turned away.

He went straight for the kitchen and washed his hands. Seeing that someone had brewed a fresh cup of coffee, he filled a mug. The hot liquid felt good against his throat. He swallowed half of it in two big gulps, not caring if it kept him awake. He wasn't sleeping much now, anyway.

Hearing a noise from the other room, Matt followed the sound. One of the inner rooms next to the room he'd chosen as his personal office sat filled with computer equipment. Through another side door was another large room filled with the remaining prototype masks brought in from the research building, along with other associated equipment.

Alex sat in front of a computer, the mainframe beside him blinking with multiple colored lights. Alex glanced back at Matt as he leaned over to see what was on the screen.

"I take it the drive is undamaged?" Matt asked.

"Your people designed it to be rugged," Alex said. "She was smart to have saved it, although how she managed to do it in time, I don't know."

"She must have had warning they were coming," Matt droned. "Dropped it in her lunch box at the last moment."

"And I must say, the software system Emily and her team put together looks incredible. If it works half as well as it looks, it's a major breakthrough in real-time voice interface and fuzzy logic capability," Alex said, still cycling through pages of code as they talked.

"She excelled at design and organization," Matt said without any emotional inflection in his voice.

Alex stopped his typing. "Matt, you can't keep..."

"...blaming myself?" Matt interrupted. "Oh yes, I can. I could have helped her, protected her. Originally, we were supposed to have an early lunch together. But, I insisted she take the whole day off and she got stubborn. I was just determined to beat Naghati in a business deal. Never again will business come before family."

Alex turned his chair around to give Matt his undivided attention, saying sternly, "A large group of cold-blooded terrorists, who didn't think twice about spilling blood, and you, unarmed, were going to take them on? The fact Emily survived as long as she did was a miracle. If you had been there, Scott would now be an orphan."

Matt turned his head away from Alex's intense gaze.

Turning back, Alex typed a little more, bringing up a new screen filled with yet more computer code. "You and Emily created the Trakker Foundation to preserve and help this world for your son and following generations. Now live for your son and those future generations. Emily would have wanted that. As long as he lives, she lives. Are you going to let what Miles Mayhem did deprive Scott of the life both of you envisioned for him?"

"I'm not giving up on living," Matt answered testily as he went to stand in the other doorway. One long table sat against a wall with all the prototype masks sitting in a neat row. Several experimental energy storage devices stood on their own stands along another wall.

"I didn't say you were. But, you also can't allow unwarranted guilt consume you," Alex added.

Matt didn't like the direction the conversation had taken. He nodded towards the masks. "What do you think of them?"

Alex stood up and came to stand next to Matt to look into the room. "Interesting designs. Would be more useful if each mask could have multiple uses, but there is already an energy retention problem."

Matt walked into the room, picking up a gray mask with a visor that cut across the upper portion for the eyes. "I don't understand that part. The documentation claims to have solved the battery problem, and yet they won't keep a charge."

"Bruce and I took a look at that. Seems they had one spectacular success with this design before the crystal they used for the rapid recharging fractured when they used it for a different experiment. Long charge, more power available than the designers dared hope. A complete success."

"Let me guess, they haven't been able to reproduce the charging crystal," Matt said, setting the mask back down.

"And not for want of trying. We have one of the crystal growing machines in here. Haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

Matt looked over at him. "Do you want to give it a try?"

Alex leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "Why? Do you have something in mind?"

Matt moved on to look at some of the other equipment. How much room would they need to bring in some of the other equipment? He wished Bruce were around, but he had no right to ask him to move just because of him. "Miles is out there and he has several prototypes. Do you think he'll resist using them?"

"Oh, he'll use them. It's just a matter of when," Alex quickly responded.

"Exactly." Matt stopped and turned, looking straight at Alex. "And when he does, who will have the power to stand up to him? Local police and law enforcement? People who aren't even aware the threat is coming?"

Alex didn't answer him right away, but instead took his time looking at all the equipment in the room. "You intend to continue the research? Set up a new research lab?"

"Most of the people who worked on this technology are now dead. Set up another lab somewhere else and it'll be just a matter of time before Miles shows up to steal them again. No, not a research lab. Us. Get them ready to use. To be ready for Miles when he makes his move."

Alex whistled. "That's a lot of work. Although, I admit interest in working with the technology."

"As am I."

And Matt meant it. A glimmer of his former self surfaced.

A plan. Resources. His instincts wanted to get it organized. To make happen what others couldn't do. He'd always loved that challenge.

And now those skills could go to stopping a murder. To save others from suffering the same fate as Emily and the others who died with her.

He breathed in deep, feeling alive again. Alive with a purpose.

Alex slowly nodded, a slight smile appearing on his face. "Then we have a lot of work to do."

So they did.

To Be Continued….