* Chapter 7 *

Sam stepped out his front door and slide on his sun glasses. It was a gorgeous sunny morning. The sky was clear. The air still had a fresh crystal quality. The lower third of the palm tree in the neighbor's yard was still dark from the early sprinkler system. The morning commuters had cleared from the street and the housewife set had yet to emerge to perform their daily shopping rituals.

Sam locked the door and headed for his car. He felt good, clear headed, rested. Completely unaffected by last night's over indulgence at the Kobada bar and grill. He felt untouchable in a physical teenage boy sort of way. Sam slid into the driver seat and the dodge roared to life on the first turn of the key. Sam smiled, he wasn't headed anywhere in particular. He considered grabbing a bite to eat. The Marriot had an impressive buffet and mimosa combination. The Bayside café had a patio that opened onto the beach and good looking waitresses. Sam continued running through the possibilities as he pulled out of his drive and moved down the street. He was waiting for his gut to direct him toward lady luck. The Half Shell mixed an amazing mojito. His cell phone rang, the caller Id read Fiona.

"Hey Fi," Sam answered, his optimism carrying through the connection.

Fiona scowled. She wasn't feeling quite as charmed or perky. She was still lying in bed wondering how 3000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and premium down pillows could feel so uncomfortable. She was definitely paying for last night, but Sam was the last person she wanted to tip off to that fact. He was already paying too much attention. The way she chose to blow off steam was nobody's business but her own. However, the way her morning was headed, a happy Sam meant trouble. She wondered if she could muster enough energy to attempt a civil conversation with Sam. She closed her eyes, did she have a choice? She needed a favor and he answered the phone. "Sam, I need you to pick up Maddie's cake." Sam paused on the other side of the line long enough for Fionna to wonder if the call had been dropped.

"A cake? Like from Safeway?" He asked. It gave Fionna the impression that he was rolling the thought around in his brain trying to decide if he liked the taste.

"Not Safeway," She snapped. "I ordered one from the patisserie on Marina drive, just passed the Studio 60 salon." She had to wait another 15 seconds for him to respond. It made her wonder what he was doing.

"Sam? Hello?"

"Sure," he responded. "That actually sounds good. Where do I take it?"

Fi sighed. Thank you she mouthed. Actually verbally saying thank you would have been out of place with how she interfaced with Sam. It would have been another red flag for Sam to pick up on. "Just keep it cool until tomorrow's party." She instructed.

"Hey Fi?" He added before she could end the call.

She waited while he figured out what it was he wanted to say. He had earned himself a few more minutes of civility.

Sam hesitated. Last night a buddy of his had introduced him to someone who might be capable of filling in some of the missing pieces for the night Michael had been collected into a government issue vehicle with blacked out windows. She worked for the transportation department and seemed to think that she could pull toll information that would give them an idea about where the vehicle had gone. It would be the first real lead they had toward finding Mikey. He was sure Fi would want to know, but he suddenly felt awkward. He should have waited for an opening rather than blurting out "Hey, you know what?" Fi had a talent for making him feel uncool. Ok, he was sure there was a better way to describe it than that. Just thinking the word uncool was, well… He shook his head. How did she manage to rattle him when she hadn't said more than three sentences?

"Sam" her voice hinted that patience was wearing thin.

"Well, no guarantee, but I think I found us a lead on where Michael was taken. I'll know more later when we have Larry's money to pay for it. But the source checks out. I just thought, well, who doesn't like getting a bit of good news, right?" Fiona didn't respond. "Fi?" Sam questioned.

"Great Sam. Tell me more later."

Fi ended the call and reached for the pain killers on her dresser. She hadn't expected good news. Maybe she would survive the day after all. With a few more hours of sleep she felt like she might actually be able to feel upbeat. She would thank Sam later.

Martina heard the door open and closed her eyes in thanks to whatever deity watched over reckless men. She had done her best not to worry that her battered husband was wandering the streets without his coat. She pulled a covered plate from the cooling oven and set it on the table. She smiled with accomplishment, dinner was still warm. She pulled a knife and fork from a battered kitchen drawer and placed them on a folded paper towel beside his plate. She opened the refrigerator door and debated whether to pull out a beer. It would look perfect beside the warm dinner plate. A sterling example of what a good wife she was, however the doctor had instructed no alcohol. She wondered if Mikhail realized he had a concussed brain. She wondered if he knew that he wasn't supposed to be drinking. She didn't want him to think she hadn't paid attention to instructions on how to care for him. The only other options were water or milk. Neither were typical male oriented beverages. She closed the door without making a choice. She pulled a glass from the cabinet and placed it beside the plate empty. It completed the picture and would allow him to choose whether to follow the doctor's care instructions.

Satisfied, Martina turned to the doorway, but Mikhail didn't appear.

"Mikhail?" she called.

The house was silent. Benoit had fallen asleep early. He had been a very tired, over stimulated little boy when she had arrived to collect him. The mine collapse had been difficult on him. Benoit's natural father had been more typical of the region, watchful but aloof towards young children. Mikhail treated Benoit quite differently. He went out of his way to interact with the boy, slipping him extra food when he thought she wasn't looking. Giving him a pat on the back for school work well done. Benoit had begun to refer to him as papa in comments he made to his mother. The intensity of their bond made Martina determined to win Mikhail's emotions.

"Mikhail?" She called again, stepping out into the hall.

Mikhail leaned against the door gasping, his eyes clenched. Pain creased his brow. He had both arms wrapped around his rib cage. "Mikhail!" fear tinged her voice. She hurried to his side. "What is wrong?"

"Where have you been?"

He struggled to get control of his breathing. The pain in his side had worsened. Damn it, he didn't have time for this. He needed to get Martina and Benoit on their way before heading to the small bar that served as the miner's central hub of social connection. He had struggled to come up with a story that would get the mining community to evacuate without causing undue panic or questions. Martina would be the test.

Martina reached out to him. Her touch seemed to ground him. His eyes slide open and slivers of blue focused on her face.

"Where is Benoit?"

"Asleep," She answered. "Your dinner is waiting."

Mikhail shook his head no. "Pack light, we need to leave."

Martina went still. She had not grown up in this town. He first husband had brought her here after her wedding day. But she had heard rumors that there was a very dark side to living in the shadow cast by Orozova's compound. No one spoke openly and rumors could be counted on for exaggeration. However, superstition was a part of their culture and the thought of anything she had heard being true sent ice down her spine. "What is it?" She whispered. She could feel Mikhail's body tremble. Was it fatigue or fear, she wondered.

Mikhail straightened from the wall. "I heard men talking. The collapse has caused some sort of gas leak. There are rumors that the town will be quarantined. Pack light, I'll carry Benoit to the car."

Martina relaxed some what. A gas leak was fairly common in mining. A toxic gas that warranted a quarantine was bad, but an early warning and moving quickly was the best course of action. Martina turned and hurried to throw together their things. She was ready with the door open as Mikhail emerged with Benoit asleep in his arms. Mikhail secured Benoit in the passenger seat, then hurried to help Martina pile her belongings into the back of the small car. He managed to get Martina behind the steering wheel before she realized he was still standing outside the car.

"Mikhail! What are you doing!"

"I need to warn the rest your neighbors."

She grabbed his sleeve before he could disappear into the night. "No!" She protested.

Mikhail bent to address Martina through her window. "Martina, I have to warn them." His voice was calm, confident.

She shook her head, "No!"

"Go to your cousin's. Get Benoit to safety. He needs you to keep him safe." Mikhail was so convincing. How could she doubt him? Martina reluctantly started the car. She glanced at Benoit. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was her Mikhail. She turned back to Mikhail with a renewed confidence. "We will wait for you in Petropavl," She said with a nod. She released him so he could step away. She memorized the picture of his tall frame standing in their driveway, watching until she turned at the end of the block.