Hey guys! I just want you to know that since I'll be going back to school soon, I won't be able to update as often as I used to, but I do promise to make an update every once in a while, like once a week or something. It depends on how busy I am with school stuff. Don't worry coz I'm not gonna leave you all hanging here. I'll continue writing this story no matter what.

Chapter 7:

"The chocolate you ordered should be delivered by tomorrow night," Jun announced toward the end of their daily briefing phone call. The faint changing of a bell buoy was heard in the background and had Michael cursing Mimi for all she'd stolen from him. "I ran into a bit of trouble, but I have a tracer on it. I know the expected arrival time and destination."

Michael went giddy with joy at the prospect of having Mimi back in his sights but kept his voice business like. "That is good news indeed."

"It's going to be held at customs for a while, though, unless I can get the release numbers I need. It's because of the Cheddar cheese that came with it."

Cheddar cheese is their code for cops or police of some sort. Who's protecting Mimi now? Could it be Phillip McNair again? He thought he'd taken care of the old man. Why did Jun need information from their inside source? Talking to that contact too often could compromise his advantage.

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. It's from a private company."

Private cops? Did Mimi turn to her pathetic childhood friend? He had to get to the bottom of it. "Contact our friend and say we need that customs release information. That's the only thing we can do to keep this import business thriving if our request is expedited."

"And if there's trouble rerouting the cheese?"

No cop…private, public, or paid for…was going to get between him and what was his. He had no qualms about ridding the world of one more badge-wearing bull. "We'll simply make fondue."

The need to hurry and get back to Mimi pressed at Matt's back like a knife. He left her at the convent guarded by a police officer. He would make her busy while taking down her statement. Matt headed toward the patch of woods where the intruder had shot at Mimi. Gennai, the chief of police…a scrappy goat of a man as weatherworn as the island…followed Matt.

The scent of damp earth filled the morning air. His suit…what was left of it…and shoes weren't exactly the best outfit for this task, but his travel bag was stuck in the trunk of his Corvette on the mainland. The plan had been simple…get Mimi and get her off the island. He should've known. When it came to Mimi, nothing was simple.

"With the storm last night, we wouldn't be able to find anything," Gennai said when Matt bent closer to the ground for a better look.

"We won't know unless we try."

The ground was saturated from the rain, squishing moisture into his shoes with every step. He ignored the discomfort and concentrated on his task. The faster he found the trail, the faster he could get back to Mimi.

Spotting indentations in the ground, he stopped. Army boots. The real things or purchased in a store? One person. That was a relief.

"Watch your step," he told the chief. "I've got something." Careful not to displace the track, Matt placed his foot beside one particularly good boot mark. The print was narrower and smaller than his. The stride was shorter too, with the toes pointed slightly inward. A woman?

Using the camera Sister Berta loaned Mimi, Matt snapped a picture of the track and one with his foot placed next to it for comparison. Maybe Izzy could come up with an identifier. Gennai took his turn at photographing the evidence.

Picking his way along the trail, Matt looked for broken twigs and turned-over rocks. Along the top edge of the bluff, near the boulder where Mimi had been taking pictures, he noted light prints. Suddenly the prints moved backwards. A retreat when Mimi climbed up the rocks?

He touched the print of Mimi's shoe running away from him. But he knew the outcome of that trail, so he followed the other. It led to a boulder where the intruder knelt and used the rock's flat top to prop his weapon. The knee prints were smaller than he expected from a man. Would someone like Michael Sheer give a very important job to a woman? That didn't fit his profile at all. For a man like Michael, a woman would make a prime target.

Yet what better way from Michael to fool the people charged with watching his every move? And there was Mimi in a convent full of nuns. Could one of the nuns be carrying a weapon in the folds of her skirt? He itched to get back, but to protect Mimi; the professionalism in him had to learn as much as he could about this adversary.

Now the prints showed the intruder running. His prints chased hers, but in clear daylight he could see what he missed in the fog. He spirited the threads of Steeltex caught in the bark into his pocket before the cop could see them. As far as he knew, the project was still classified.

"Looks like your shooter rested here," the chief said, stroking his close-cropped beard as he studied the scene. His navy windbreaker flapped in the wind.

In her camouflage suit, the shooter had blended well. "I passed right by her without seeing her."

"Her?"

"That's what the trail says."

The cop shrugged. "Could be a teenager. You said both shots missed."

"Could be." But not wearing Steeltex and not zeroing in on Mimi. Sheer wasn't that desperate yet.

Matt climbed down the opposite side of the cliff to the eastern shore of the island. The rocks mostly hid the shooter's tracks until he studied the few inches of mucky beach. There he found a slip mark above the high-tide line. Scuffs of navy paint streaked a rock and the rainbow slick of gasoline stains shone on another.

"Looks like your shooter came with his own boat." The chief bent down and studied the paint, then took a picture of the marks. "I'll take a paint sample and see what we can come up with. But I expect he's gone and won't come back."

If she actually left the island. The ragged shore was full of little coves. His guess was that she'd stick to Mimi like a shadow.

The chief finished collecting his evidence and taking his notes, and then joined Matt at the edge of the water. "Nothing much to do for kids around these parts, so they go out and shoot targets. First time here, but it happens all the time on the smaller islands."

Probably just as well the chief didn't seem too disturbed about last night's events. He would get their statements and they'd be out of here in less than two hours. Matt planned on hitching a ride back with the cops. They'd be safe enough on the water.

But on the highway, his red vintage Corvette would make them sitting ducks.

In the pilothouse of the police patrol boat, Mimi sat stiffly while the captain stood at the controls. Her restless fingers clasped and unclasped the buckle of the small leather bag in her lap. Here she was again, in a small enclosed space, surrounded by cops. What if one of them died because of her?

A strong wind suddenly whipped her hair. She scraped the flailing locks back into a ponytail. She scanned the horizon for another boat, another threat, another sniper's rifle seeking her out.

Matt leaned against the railing at the prow, looking…even without a shirt under his suit jacket…like a carefree tourist. But his shoulders betrayed tension and his gaze swept the waters as if his glasses were X-ray devices able to spot a would-be assassin.

He meant well, of course. He didn't realize that this wasn't just another mission…that this situation had consequences. Mostly for those that are around her. Maybe he even thought he was keeping her safe just for old time's sake. Because Sora was her friend and that was the only way he could show his best friend he cared.

He'd seen WSP from the inspector's viewpoint. He was able to go home most nights and sleep in his own bed, in his own house. He couldn't know what it was like to lose yourself piece by piece, to live in fear that any moment a bullet would shoot through a window and destroy what was left of you.

She tore her gaze away from Matt's face and tried to focus on the instrument panel as complicated as any jetliners. It didn't work. The red lines reminded her of blood and dead people. She rubbed her hands against her thighs but couldn't stop the flow of cold sweat. How long before they get to shore? How long before she was out of this tin-can target? How long before she could get away?

Since high school she gained a certain sense of self, of who she was and what her duties and responsibilities were. She embraced both her public image and her unofficial role as ambassador for Odaiba. She also developed a personal passion to capture a person's truth on film. She loved kids. Life hasn't tainted them yet and there was such purity in all their expression.

But that was until Michael came in the picture and had taken his father's role as partner. He came into her life and had broken it all apart until she wondered about her choices, about her values and about the meaning of her life.

Not exactly what Michael had in mind, but he hoped that his remarks would make her as soft and as pliable as the parachute nylon the company produced. What he forgot was that the company's fabric wasn't as fragile as it looked.

Even though there was nothing left of what she once was. She still wanted that life back. She loved Odaiba. She loved the company. And she loved the people that made up both.

Michael wanted to distance her from her environment but instead brought her closer to her roots. By now she was supposed to have married him. And what was hers was supposed to be his. She shuddered.

At first he charmed her with his polished manners, his dazzling smile and his smooth bass voice. She's almost fallen under the spell of his persona. Until the press conference, when Tachikawa Corp. announced its new contract with the Army. As was her custom, she took pictures of the event. When she developed the film, something in Michael's eyes made her shiver. She thought it was a trick of the light, but the look of pure evil she caught on film surfaced again, both at her home and at his office, when he thought no one was looking. He'd shown his true colors the day he murdered her father.

Against her will, her gaze once again sought Matt. The stubble-shadowed jaw took nothing away from his clean-cut look. Her father would approve of the man Matt had become. They shared a deep sense of ethics and the values of honor and loyalty. Sora probably wouldn't argue, but even she knows this. Mimi had seen the letters from Matt that Sora discarded unopened. Matt even tried to help Sora when her mother couldn't pay for her college education, but pride made her refuse.

Seeing him again, so strong and solid, so determined to act as her protector, spiked her heart with a quick jump. She wished for one of his smiles that made her feel as if all was right with the world. She was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder. She was tired of being afraid. She was so tired that she was actually considering letting Matt take her to Seekers Inc., letting him take care of her. Letting Michael test just how high-security Seekers' safety bunker was. The last few weeks of bloody horror was making her weak.

You're as strong as Steeltex.

Sneering she shook her head and opened the small leather bag that contained a few change of clothes Sora provided her and the camera Sister Berta loaned her. She took it out and loaded a fresh roll of film.

She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, to slide into darkness and stay there until the trial was over. Until someone could assure her that the bars around Michael were so tight and so solid, he could never again rally allies to do the dirty work he was denied.

"We'll find him, you know," the captain said, giving her a look that came too close to pity for comfort.

"Of course." She raised the camera and searched through the frame.

"He won't be able to keep the secret. It'll bother him so much he has to tell someone else about it. With a small town like this, a secret like that won't stay quiet too long."

"Thanks."

His fresh-scrubbed face was still eager and filled with idealism. How long would it take for lines to carve lines around his eyes and mouth like those that etched Gennai's face? "Can I take your picture?"

"Me? What for?"

"I like the look in your eyes." She wanted to capture the youthful passion shining bright on his face as a reminder that some parts of the world were still worth looking at.

He grinned and she snapped.

The captain slowed the boat as he approached the dock. "We're almost there."

One hand on the wheel, the other on the throttle, he turned around to face her. He opened his mouth as if to add something more. She adjusted the focus ring. Surprise rounded his eyes. Glass shattered. The sound of a gun cracked through the sudden rev of the boat's engine. The captain crumpled, taking her down with his dead weight.

A/N: Ohh…another dead person. Who is thiswoman trying to kill Mimi? Will she come out of it alive? Stay tuned for chapter 8!

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