Chapter -7-

The wind billowed against the hotel window, sounding like a dull groan, racing along the face of the building. A pair of blue shoes sat atop the heater, mounted beneath the windowsill, drying. Adjacent to them sat a metal license plate still framed in its plastic mounting. The bed closest to the window was a mess, the sheets, blanket and comforter sat bunched up at the edge. Sitting up with her back against the headboard, Rachel worked on her laptop.

Other than the soft clicking of her nails on the keys and the occasional thumb-strike against the spacebar, she made no noise. A pair of headphones filtered sound and music into the raccoon's ears. The headset resembled a plastic headband with two molded hollow pyramids, which covered her twin fuzzy triangles.

She paused from the typing, picked up a pen and jotted down some words on a notebook to her left. After counting the number of entries written on the page, she put the pen into her muzzle horizontally then began typing again. Her right paw lowered to an adding machine on the right of her hip. She punched in several digits, the addition key then her paw returned to the laptop. The adding machine whirred softly, printing a small sheet of paper from the top with a long list of numerical values in black ink.

"Astronomical," she muttered softly over the pen clinched in her teeth. "This is bull sh-" She froze, unable to finish the statement. Her eyes went wide. Rachel lifted her left paw, drawing the headset from her ears. "Hey, Conner – wake up!"

The young Cooper rolled over in the adjacent hotel bed, rubbing at his eyes. "…Huh?" He drew back the layer of blankets from his face, pulling them down to chest level. "Did you say something?"

"A popular soviet website just announced that Mister Gurlukovich was just shot sixteen times by a high caliber handgun at close range." She turned her head from the screen and recited the rest. "Police identified the forty-five year old Karl Gurlukovich, found dead in his automobile garage, in front of a Lexus, which was still running. The slugs are in the seats and door panels; the shell casings are on the garage floor. The guards reportedly heard no disturbances or saw anyone enter the underground garage. However, they're now looking deeper into the fact that he reported his son as abducted right from his house the other day. They think whoever broke in and kidnapped Sergei may have come back and killed the old man."

"Yeah? Who shoots someone sixteen times with a high caliber silenced gun?"

"The mafia," she said, adding, "But you're a suspect in first degree murder."

Conner rolled his eyes and pulled the covers back up. "Whatever."

"No – take this seriously. Your photograph, albeit a very blurry outline of you, has surfaced from a parameter surveillance camera – one you must not have known about. It was at the edge of the yard, facing the house. They have a picture of you jumping on a guard's head in the back yard."

He eased up on an elbow and quirked a brow. "Did I have my cane out of the case in that picture?"

"I don't know," she said, looking back at the screen. "If you do, it's too blurry to see anything. You can see that you're using good form, landing on his head, but it's too blurry to tell anything. Since your knees were drawn up, your feet together and your back appears arched, it's obvious that they can't even tell your height, body weight or anything else. All they know is that the 'attacker' had gray fur and wore a black 'object' over one shoulder… obviously the guitar case you used for your cane. And, if you did have your cane out in this photograph, it's in your other paw, opposite of the camera."

"…Great." He paused then frowned. "At least you can't see the cane in the photograph. I wouldn't want the Cooper Clan to be implemented in this crap, nor would I want my parents to ever see a damning picture."

Rachel closed her laptop, putting the operating system into suspend mode. "I also priced out some new gear and some parts. It's going to be damned expensive, but it won't break our budget." She rubbed the bottom of her muzzle and cussed her calculator then shrugged and glanced back at him.

"Your mouth is more foul than a sailor," Conner told her. "But so far as wanting to know how everything is going… just relax. You're fine. They can't identify me, and I think everything will be okay. That guy got what he deserved – karma is a rough thing and now it's over. Stop worrying because you're just complicating things."

"Conner," she said with a sigh. "What if they start putting the puzzle pieces together? Surely a lot of people saw you and Sergei ripping through town in that stupid blue Mustang."

"It was an AC Shelby Cobra," he replied, adding, "So any traffic cameras, cell phone cameras or general eye-witnesses that saw us rip through town that night would probably tell police they saw a 'gray furred' guy with a coyote, especially since people always look at the driver first and foremost. Then the cops will call in a sketch artist. In the end, you're worried that the 'Fuzz' will start looking for me, is that it?"

"Yeah," she said. "I am a little concerned that by this time tomorrow, you might have some people looking for you, cane or not."

He grinned at her then rolled back over and pulled the covers up to his nose. "You worry too much. I was down on the floor, with my face in the seat, so please relax." His confidence was comforting to the older female teenager.

She pushed her laptop from her legs, slid off the bed and moved over to his, sitting down besides him. Rachel placed her paw on the lump of blankets, over his hip. "Don't get yourself killed; I've lost my father, my stuff, my home and, because of all that… I lost my way for a long time. Now I've got some sort of purpose again, even if it doesn't last very long. If you do something stupid, I'll lose that, too."

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to either of us, I won't let those scum-balls hurt you again. The thing is, we can't do everything alone," said Conner. "If we're going to turn this into a family, or a gang, a clan, or whatever else you might want to call it… well, let's just say we're going to need help. Maybe when we get everything sorted out, find my parents and establish that they're not in need of help… maybe when everything is calm and situated, you and I can go into 'business' for ourselves."

"What kind of business?" She tilted her head, looking down at the lump of blankets.

"I'm a thief; you're a logistics wizard. You plan it, I execute it. We could turn a tidy little profit and retire young."

"All this coming from a boy who says he's born into wealth? Why not just retire off your inheritance?"

Conner poked his head from out of the blankets and gazed up at the female raccoon with a sly grin. "In my bloodline, one's worth and credit is summed up by what you're remembered for. If I pull off the best heists, I have a special place for me in the family history, which is a big deal considering the fact that your paw is currently on the hip of the world's unofficially richest boy. But that's okay. I could start over without a penny today and still make a good living for myself. That's why the family is so wealthy… we all add to the same piggy bank. If you stick around for a while, you'll see it for yourself."

She offered him an endearing and empathic smile, patting his waist. "You just keep dreaming. I'm considering myself lucky that your sister was kind enough to send us as much as she did… But I doubt you're anywhere near the infamy of Richie Rich."

"Who?"

Rachel shook her head and chuckled. "Nevermind. It was a cartoon from my father's childhood."

"Charming, how much you know about pop culture from decades ago." He sank back into the pillow and simply looked up at her then changed the topic of conversation. "I'm not very good at this whole flirting thing, but I insist on reminding you that you're really good looking." His eyes lowered in the dim illumination then lifted again, raking over her feminine figure. "I'm sitting here looking at the side-view angle of your silhouette and all I can say is wow."

Glad it was fairly dark in the room, Rachel licked her lips apprehensively and, in a lower, husky sort of voice, said, "Silly boy."

Conner drew his top lip between his teeth and grinned impishly. "Some part of my manliness melts away when you call me 'silly' y'know that? It makes me feel all goofy inside, and stuff."

She shook her head slowly and placed a fingertip against his lips to hush him. "Again, there you go being silly; I can't think of any better word to describe you." Her other paw came up and patted the side of his muzzle tenderly then lifted, running her fingernails through the head-fur, right behind his ears. "Just promise me we're a team – I don't want to lose anything or anyone else, right now – it would hurt too much. You're becoming my rock of stability and I find myself clinging to that rock pretty desperately over the last few days."

He nodded firmly, although he could feel himself melting further from the soft scratching behind his ears. "I promise; I promise I won't hurt you, Rachel." He lifted his head slightly, easing up into her gentle touch. "Mmm, I could easily get used to you having those long plastic nails, if you're going to scratch behind my ears more often."

Rachel giggled softly, patted his muzzle again then stood up and walked to the window. She stood there for a moment, her tail slowly swaying from left to right. Her shapely figure, an hourglass of perfection, remained stoic and his eyes were transfixed on her form. She kept her eyes on the street, down below. "Okay, it's late and we should probably get some sleep. I think we should start our day at a laundromat tomorrow. I'm grateful for the new clothes, but it's all we've had to wear for the last two days." She paused then added, "Roll over so I can take my pants off and fold them, will you?"

Conner rolled somewhat on his bed, creating a sound of the blankets ruffling. He now lay flat on his back, his head facing the window in the dark. True to her word, she used her thumb to ease the low-cut denim pants down from her hips. The black lace underwear hardly covered anything, leaving little to the young man's imagination. She lifted her left foot from the pool of fabric and placed it on the heater next to his boots then removed her sock. Next, she put her foot down and switched, lifting her right foot upon the heater.

Rachel folded her pants and placed them on a nightstand then she took off her crumble-cap by the brim. Her bangs spilled out from either side and she removed a scarf that was around her neck, coiling it overtop of her jeans. She reached for the hem of her shirt and gave a firm tug, so that it came down to her mid thighs, covering her shapely rump. Her tail lifted the shirt hem just slightly offering a teasing glance at the backside of her surprisingly skimpy undergarment. She turned towards her bed, removed the adding machine, her notebook and the pen, gathering them together. She put them on the floor then closed her notebook and placed it on the nightstand with her clothes.

A stretch; she reached her paws above her head with fingers interlaced together and jutted her hip out, arching her back. An adorably cute feminine squeak slipped out in mid-stretch. Her tail curled at the end and she shifted somewhat on her right heel so that he was able to see her at an angle. With her back arched, she inadvertently jutted her chest outward for a moment then relaxed her stance, dropping her arms. "Good night, Conner. Thanks for dealing with me, earlier. I don't mean to cry in front of people but… I've never been that scared before, either."

He watched her sleek form slide into the bed, drawing the sheets up over herself then he told her, "From what I've seen about women, I'm still prepared for another emotional breakdown. You also lost a lot of things, so I understand that it's sitting in your chest, stewing around in your heart. When it's ready to come out, I'll be here for you – like I said earlier, won't hurt you or allow anyone else to bring you to tears again. We're cool, you and I. I feel like I can really trust you." He sat up on an elbow and asked, "I'm really curious, so take me seriously on this – why do girls wear thongs?"

She sat up abruptly and brought her paws down on either side of her hips, huffing loudly. "I told you to roll over, you pervert!"

"I'm not a pervert, I'm just a guy who finds you attractive. So, what about my question? It seems to me that girls who wear thongs, combined with low-cut pants, actually like the attention it draws."

"That's not it at all," she rebutted, folding her arms across her chest. "A thong's waistline is higher than normal panties. Women wear them because it covers the crack of your ass; nobody likes to see 'plumber's butt', Conner."

Silence. After a moment, he uttered a soft, "…Oh." Then he added, "They look nice on you. Very flattering."

"Oh geeze, you're just being a player. Good night, Conner Cooper." She pulled the blankets up and burrowed down into the pillows. "Take a cold shower in the morning, will you?"

"I'm a virgin," he reminded in a defensive tone. "I don't know enough about sex to be a player. I'm just blunt and sincere. I'll, uh… try and work on my tact in the future, okay? Oh," he leaned back in bed. "For the record, cold showers don't help – they just cause shrinkage, which does nothing but cause misery."

Another moment of silence then Rachel broke into a fit of giggles. She pulled the covers up over her head to muffle the insistent girlish laughter while trying to catch her breath. "I'm… I'm sorry," she told him between the effeminate tittering. "It's just… that was a really humorous mental image. You shivering in the shower, tail drooped down, the shrinkage…" She then breathed the word, "hysterical. And yet it would be so cute seeing you that vulnerable."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. "I have my own mental imagery… I bet your bra matches the thong… lacy and black."

She sat up again and hurled a pillow over at him. "Grow up, you!" She immediately lay back down and snuggled into her last pillow. "Doofus."

"That just proves I'm right." His words were muffled beneath the fluffy sham. His right paw snaked out from under the covers, gathering up the pillow she threw at him. He collected it and pulled it under the comforter, building a veritable pillow fortress for his head. "Thanks…!" Both raccoons grew quiet, wondering to themselves what each thought or imagined about the other. Silence resumed.


Zero-Seven hundred hours, Astrakhan Russia (07:00)

"The name is Javari Ahma. I recognize your car," she said, placing a paw against the sparkle-blue quarter panel. "I think half of Astrakhan recognizes your car." Out all night, Javari was cold and tired. However, she hid it well. Imagine her fancy to have the little blue car pull up to the curb as she was walking down the block. She still couldn't believe he just appeared out of nowhere.

The coyote turned away from the ATM and looked her over. "Do I know you, Lady?" His thick Russian accent made it difficult to decipher. "You'll have to pardon me, my English is not the best."

"You're fine," she replied with a smile. The wolverine slowly walked her fingertips along the shiny metal front, stopping at the windshield. "I think it's fate that I ran into you on the corner, here. I didn't think I'd see you again." She cut her eyes to the golden cane lying across the bench seat. "Nice walking stick you've got here." Coming off an alcohol buzz, having left the bar about three-and-a-half hours ago, Javari was finally starting to sober up.

"It's not mine, Lady," said the coyote, adding, "I'm Sergei Gurlukovich but you can call me by my nickname, 'Surge'. Javari Ahma, eh? You've seen me recently but now I have you at a disadvantage, yeah?"

"Hovercraft, a few days ago? You drove by it and saved my ass." She drew her paw back from the car and folded her arms across her chest, just beneath her breast. The female eyed him for a moment then smiled. The wolverine had curves – a little meat on her bones in all the right places. "I know I have a lot of ass to save, but I'm still grateful."

Sergei pulled a receipt and a plastic card from the ATM machine and pocketed it with his money then turned back to the woman and approached her. He purposefully looked her over, nice and slow, lifting his head and craning it a bit then stooping down as though inspecting every detail. "No, you're just right. You're about… what? Sixty-two and a half kilograms?"

Javari put her paws on her hips and glared at him for a minute. "I'm nowhere near one hundred thirty-six pounds, but thank you. I'm closer to one-forty-eight." She tilted her head, seeing that he didn't know the conversion and so she simply said, "A hair over sixty-seven kilograms."

"You can do the conversion in your head, Lady?" He stood up straight and folded his arms, mocking the way she had hers crossed. "No, you've got all your weight in the right place… your rump, your chest, a little in the thighs and contrast it perfectly with a nice flat tummy. Like a modern day Marilyn Monroe… just taller."

Javari shrugged. "I know the name but I don't even know what she looks like."

Surge grinned, feeling confident. "About nine centimeters shorter than you."

"About three and a half inches, huh? I can handle that." She paused to contemplate the math in her head then nodded firmly. Her cheeks were still numb from drinking for part of the night.

He tilted his head again and said, "You can do that in your head, too? That's impressive, Lady. Miss Ahma," he corrected at the end. "Wanna' go for a ride in the car?"

"First of all," she trailed off then lifted her paws, grasping his jacket collar. "I wanted to thank you for taking that hovercraft off the road." She pulled him into a short, firm kiss. Once he was distracted and looked somewhat dazed, she released his coat and stepped around to the passenger side of the car. "And second of all, I would love a ride in your shiny blue car."

"Well damn," he whispered mostly to himself. The coyote quickly hurried around to her side of the car and opened the door for her, suddenly becoming a gentleman. Once she was inside, he shut the door, rushed over to his side and slid into the driver's seat. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "A lot has happened in the last few days, so I'm not… how you say... ah, 'with it' right now. I didn't mean to stand there like a geek after that kiss; it was nice."

"Yeah?" She leaned back against the leather-wrapped seat and folded her hands glad he was getting her away from the street corner. She knew one thing about living with a group of pirates… she had to stay on the move. "I've had a lot going on, too. What's your story?"

"My father was shot yesterday," he said in a low voice. "Don't sympathize, though. He was being a scoundrel and brought it on himself, if you are knowing what I mean, Lady."

"Just… call me Javari. And you said your name was Surge, yes?"

"Yeah, Surge is good – it's fine with me. I'm not meaning any disrespect by calling you Lady. It's just the way I operate. I like calling people by their title – much like a nickname. Like, Buddy, friend or Comrade… that sort of thing. Know what I mean, Lady?" He glanced at her, saying the last word in a flirty tone. "Anyway, dad was this joker who thought he could run with the big dogs – Mafia elite. You don't double cross them, lie to them or disrespect their wives by flirting like you're some sort of player. It got him dead as a doornail, as the expression goes."

"…Nice." She ran her fingers through her hair and shifted her weight in the seat. "My ex-boyfriend ran with a band of pirates. We stole anything we could get our hands on. One of the girls on our team, a tigress with a knack for building things, was able to turn gasoline-powered cars, vans and trucks into high-speed boats. We'd take from merchant ships and haul-tail back to land and then blend in with other vehicles or steal another one. Well, that hovercraft followed us across the Caspian and you stopped it."

"You said ex-boyfriend?"

"I did." She reached over and patted his forearm. "He was shot, too. Just like your father. And, like you said about your old man, my ex-boyfriend deserved it. Now, let me ask you something… you don't hit women, do you?"

"Who me?" Sergei laughed. "What kind of man abuses a woman?" He reached for the shifter and changed gears. "Now, I'm not saying that a woman can't fight. I've seen women fight very well. But there's no reason to haul-off and swing at a lady. Women are for flirting with, not being mean or nasty to – is that why he's your dead ex-boyfriend?"

She returned with delighted laughter of her own. "No, no… I didn't shoot him. The boys on the hovercraft did a fine job of that. Afterwards, their usefulness ran out. From that point on, they posed a threat to me, so believe me when I tell you that I was afraid for my life when they continued to fire on us over and over in a public place… if you ask me, firing in public is an act of desperation. I'm surprised – no, impressed that you came by and managed to take them out – how did you do it?"

The coyote reached for her paw and guided it to the golden cane beneath them, lying across the seat. "This. It belongs to my friend, Conner. Well, he's not really a friend – but he is an acquaintance of mine… and even after our short outing," he trailed off then shrugged. "I suppose he's a tovarisch, after all. At any of the rate, I'm holding onto it until I find him."

"What's his name again?"

"Conner Cooper," said Gurlukovich. "So far, my luck hasn't been very good. I refuse to leave Russia until I can figure out a way to return this to either him or his parents, should I see them again. I am hoping that the death of my father will cause his mother to come around."

"Why? Is she some sort of mafia call girl?"

Sergei laughed in a hearty voice. "No, she works for ICPO. She's been watching my father for some reason or another. If anything, I'll simply give her the stick if I see her at my father's funeral. Undoubtedly, she'll arrive. He's part of the reason she and her husband are vacationing in Russia, to watch my father and his business partner, up in Saint Petersburg."

"What if you find this Conner guy, first?"

"Then I'll return it to him directly," said Surge, adding, "But Conner is no guy. He's just a boy. Well, he's not much younger than myself; just a few years… either way he's just a boy. But he's impressive as thieves go; anyone who could get past my father's security without being seen is quite talented."

"He's a child thief?" She furrowed a brow in some measure of confusion. "How old?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere between thirteen and fifteen years of age, Lady. His old man is a world-renowned thief in retirement. Supposedly, I read that he suffered amnesia over twenty years ago and never got it back, so he married his arresting officer, who was Interpol, and they lived happily ever after."

Javari glared at him incredulously then broke down into laughter, stomping her right foot on the floor mat. "Are you serious? Oh God, that's good. It's like, you can't even make up crap like that!" She rubbed her face with her paws, the laughter tapered off and she sighed with a slight giggle at the end. "Okay, so… if the father doesn't remember how to be a world-famous crook, where does junior get it from?"

"C'mon, you don't really think the father had real life-long amnesia, do you? Some say it was a ploy, some say he still has it, and some have no idea. Either way, the kid had to grow up with a cop for a mother… so he's learned how to adapt and be twice as sneaky as his father ever could have been… that's why he's so damn good at what he does. Conner's a good kid, just a little nervous about my driving."

She blinked. "Why? You're driving just fine," she replied. "You're doing the speed limit; the car drives smoothly for having racetrack suspension."

The young man grinned inwardly. "Your compliments are appreciated, Lady. So, where are you headed?"

Now that she found the driver of the blue car, she had no real agenda except to retire from the pirating life. "Honestly, I have nowhere to go. So, I'll just go along for the ride until you drop me off."

"Ah," he mused thoughtfully. "We're in the same 'club' then, Javari – neither of us have anywhere to go. Neither of us have a place or a purpose. I've been looking for one of the Coopers so I can return this cane. Eventually, I'm heading to America to get myself together."

"America, now that sounds like promise and opportunity. But why America, though? Canada is the land of the free." She paused then cleared her throat and added, "At least in my opinion. Oh, and I was curious… why did your father end up dead, if you don't mind my asking?"

"So far as dad, it's a long story. And as for America… Oh, you know, it's easier to slip between the cracks and operate illegally in America. In that country, state municipal law is higher than federal law. So if you go to an area that has no idea what's going on, you slip between the cracks. Their constitution was written so that the state law is more powerful than the federal law. What does that mean? It means they've created a loophole. That means if you're breaking federal crimes, it becomes a little harder for them to close in on you. Their federal police do not work well with their state or county police for each area. That is why criminals flourish in that country so long as they obey local laws and contribute to local charities, go to church and pay their taxes."

"You know this for a fact?" She shrugged then said, "I have nothing better to do." She offered her paw to him. "This could be the start of a nice friendship. Maybe there's something I could do to make myself useful enough for you to bring me along."

He put his paw into hers. "I'm sure we'll think of something, at least one thing that is non-sexual. Pardon my sense of humor; I have no couth."

She felt comfortable around him. Having no emotional attachment to him made it easy to feel safe, knowing that she could easily defend herself from any physical altercation; he didn't have the emotional control that Kaza had over her. She vowed never to give that part of her heart to another man. "Oh, it's all right. So, you're about twenty-five to thirty kilograms heavier than me? I won't lie; you're my type – big upper torso, broad shoulders… Sweetheart, you can flirt with me all you want. You're not a virgin are you?"

Once more, Sergei broke into hearty laughter. "Virgin? Me? The son of a Mafioso?" He reverted the topic somewhat in order to answer her question. "Dad operated the 'legal' side of the local mob business. That means he had lots of money. When you're wealthy or in my case – the son of someone who is wealthy, you wind up dating quite a few nice girls. No, I'm no virgin, Lady. I'm far from it. So, while we're starting a new page of friendship here… are you?"

"No," she said. Her voice grew softer and she added, "If I lived a better lifestyle, I'd be a mother by now. But some things aren't meant to take place just yet."

"What happened?"

She lifted her left paw and made a dismissive gesture. "Let's not talk about that. Let's just say I was growing fond of the idea, and Kaza wasn't."

"That's the ex-boyfriend?"

She nodded and looked down with another shrug. "He's dead – he deserved what happened to him, so it's all in the past. I'm ready to get out of here and start over, nice and fresh. You're a little young," she trailed off and looked him over then grinned. "But you're still legal… and you're attractive. And you have your finances handled, something a woman can appreciate about a breadwinning man. So, in that case…" She patted his knee. "That makes us fast friends. We'll see where it goes from there, but don't worry… I'm not one of those girls turned off by your flirty advances. I suppose that makes me un-classy but I'm not easy, either."

"Understood, Lady. In order to move forward, we're going to need money that isn't tied to my family's account. Are you 'down' with going out and collecting a little capital gains?" he asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger in a suggestive manner. "Illegally, I might add."

"Sweetheart, that's tame compared to the last crowd I fell in with. What did you have in mind?"

"On the morning news," said Sergei, reaching for a pair of sunglasses as the morning sun broke from the horizon, "There was mention of a guarded escort. These trucks are moving bound cash wads in exchange for a large shipment of gold bullion. I don't want the gold – it's hard to get rid of it… I want the cash. There's enough that we can take what we need and they'll never realize it until we're long gone."

"Sounds simple."

"We'll see," remarked Surge with a chuckle. "We'll need to create a distraction because the guards are very well armed."

"That's the downside," she replied. "I hate the fact that they're just guys doing a job. They probably have families, you know?"

"These guards? Hardly!" Surge reached over and placed a paw on her knee, grinning. The early morning sun reflected in his mirrored sunshades. "This 'establishment' is a casino owned by the local mob. It's sort of a chance to get back at the guys who knocked off dad, even though I hated my father's guts. This is the chance to take what I want, leave the country, exchange the currency for something else, then go to America and exchange it for dollars."

"I'm really starting to like this plan. I need a stiff drink… When do we start?" she asked.

"We plan for it tomorrow. The job happens day after… can I count on you?" He reached under his seat and pulled out a chrome flask, passing it to her. Vodka, of course.

Javari placed her paw atop of his right one, which was still on her left knee. "Count me in. See? Like I said earlier… it was fate that I saw your car, while out for a walk." In truth, she had nowhere to go except back to the hospital, which wasn't an option. Up until now, she had started to regret parting ways with the Tiikeri sisters but, having crossed paths with Surge, things were starting to look up. She was out of the cold night air and had some purpose again. Her other paw passed over and took the flask. She used her teeth and opened the cap then lifted it into the wind as if to say, 'cheers'.

"Za vashe zdorovye," said Surge, nodding to her gesture of the lifted flask.

She lowered the flask below the windshield line, back into the warmth. "Whatever you said," she replied with a slight grin. She made an attempt to repeat the phrase in reply. She cleared her throat, told him, "Na zdorovye," then brought the bottle to her lips. "I'm starving – what do you say to breakfast? I have a little money on me; I'll treat."

He nodded in reply and smiled. "I know just the place. Save your money, Lady. It's on me."


Seven thirty-five in the morning

"That's a lot,"said Deborah Jean with a low whistle. "How feasible would this be to pull off?" she asked, turning to Keri who was also watching the television.

"I don't know, but stealing from a Casino delivery isn't exactly going to be an easy job to pull. They usually have their own private security. They'll shoot first and instead of asking questions, they'll just dump your body in the Volga River. Two days isn't a lot of time. Maybe we can requisition an abandoned repair garage or something similar… then we could steal an armored car and rig it as a decoy. I'm thinking that if you pull an overnighter, you could have it ready in…" Keri glanced at the hotel clock on a table between the beds. "Sixty hours from right now. That's seven-thirty in the evening, two days from now."

"If we can get to the local impound yard and find the flotation bottom from the van we were using…" DJ grinned at her sister and shrugged somewhat. "We could maybe spruce it up and make the decoy armored van a small boat. Instead of swapping the vans, we could hijack the real one, throw the loot into our van then drive away with what we need… take it out over the water, head to a safe place, ditch the float then ditch the armored truck in the next country over or something."

"Well we have time to plan this out. Let's get some food – I'm starving." Keri stood up and nudged her slightly-more-muscular sister with the tip of her toe. "C'mon, let's find a breakfast bar, a diner or some sort of restaurant. I'm ready for some real chow."

"Alright, alright, Keri. Let me go and get dressed. Good God, you're such a spaz, sometimes."

The pink-nosed tigress offered a wide grin. "I'm still the best driver you know!"

DJ nodded in agreement. "The only one who can bring my creations back in one piece. As I recall, that clown Kaza destroyed my van before the howitzer cut him in two pieces. He deserved it for doing such a crappy job at the wheel."

"No arguments here!" Keri frowned and told her sister, "By the way, I learned something about him from Javari that would make you hate him even more." Keri fetched her shoes and started pushing her feet into them. "He was a douche bag. But I don't want to ruin your breakfast. I'll tell you later. Hurry up."


"Wake up, Conner." The repeated phrase caused the raccoon to stretch, prying open his eyes. Everything slowly slid into focus, gazing upwards at Rachel's form. He groaned softly and eased up onto an elbow.

"How about Rebecca?" His voice was groggy, husky and deep. "Also, Lisa means 'fox' in Russian. Misha is 'Teddy Bear' and, uh…" He rubbed the side of his face, starting to wake up.

She tilted her head somewhat. "We'll worry about changing my name later on." She paused, tilting her head a bit more then asked, "What's wrong with your voice?" She reached for her laptop and idly mused aloud, "It's actually kinda' sexy when you talk with a calm, deep tone." She opened the laptop and showed him a website.

"What's this?" he asked, not intentionally blowing off her commentary about liking his morning voice.

"It's Gurlukovich – the guy whose house you were in a few days ago." The screen showed an ICPO Red Notice page. The familiar red logo with the sword and scales of justice behind an ovular world surrounded by olive leaves was on the opposite side depicting a photograph of Sergei's father. She eased the computer forward and told him, "He's also mentioned on Europol's website, the FBI's website…" She trailed off, letting Conner read about Gurlukovich.

Beneath the man's personal statistics, a box reading 'Categories of Offences:' displayed the following information: 'Crimes against life and health, crimes involving the use of weapons / explosives illegal possession, Trafficking and Illegal Immigration, People Smuggling, Counterfeiting / Forgery, fraud, thefts, Terrorism Conspiracy, Kidnapping, Crimes against children, Fugitives, Money Laundering…' but the next two entries caused him to look up at her in confusion.

"Does that seriously say, 'Genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity' and 'Environmental crimes,' at the end? How long is this guy's rap sheet?" He paused for a mere second and abruptly said, "But it shouldn't matter – he's dead, now."

She offered a dull glare then pointed at the bottom of the screen. It read, 'Arrest Warrant Issued by: TBILISI / Georgia' and beneath that was the current date. Rachel cleared her throat and shook her head. "It's still up so Interpol hasn't yet confirmed his death. He's also still up on Europol and the FBI's websites. Didn't you say that your mother and father spoke to him recently? You mentioned Sergei recognizing you because of his recent conversation with your folks. What's going on between all of them, anyhow?"

Conner sat up a bit more, lifting a paw to rub at his face and eyes. "I don't know but that Gurlukovich guy getting owned right in his own underground car garage just means one thing… My parents, if they're safe and well… they'll be in the area investigating his murder. The local Interpol office will have sent someone in to confirm his death so they can update their files and website. The good news is, you know my mother will be attracted to that after having spoken to him."

"But," Rachel closed the laptop and asked, "Why didn't she arrest him on the spot? Why meet with him and his kid then let them go? This guy has a longer list than just about anyone. Genocide? What the hell is 'war crimes' or 'crimes against humanity' or even 'environmental crimes?' Seriously, he's a big catch for any police agent." She shook her head and sighed. "This guy has about everything but 'theft' listed."

"No, that was on there, too." Conner leaned back against the headboard and said, "It was after 'fraud' but before 'Terrorism Conspiracy' whatever that is supposed to mean."

"Was it? Sharp eyes – I'll have to double check," she replied.

Conner shrugged. "I'm a thief so it always sticks out to me… But that's an insanely long list for just one man to have pulled off by himself. Apparently this guy is taking the brunt of the blame for a large syndicate. That's an obvious indication of what this mob force is capable of doing…" He scratched behind his ears then shook his head slowly. "Strange that he was out snapping photographs of you, instead of sending out some young fresh kid, trying to earn his way up in the Mafia. Why would he come after you, personally? Guys like that, who have that big of a target on their head usually stay out of public and let their underlings do that sort of work."

Rachel placed a pensive paw against her chin, beginning to pace between the hotel beds. "And yet all of his subordinates were guarding the house the other night. Well, maybe not all of them… but certainly a lot."

"Anything else going on, this morning?"

She opened her laptop again and flipped her finger in front of an optical sensor several inches above the keyboard. It caused the screen to change, bringing up a new page. "Yeah… there's a casino in town that is exchanging gold bullion for cash. Apparently someone gambled away a fortune in actual gold. Police are closing down three roads and pulling in one of the largest third party security agencies to carry out the job. It happens in two days, around mid-evening. If we just happened to be in there, gambling at the time of the altercation, it might be foreseeable to dip into that cash flow and take what we need to get started."

"With all that attention, you think the two of us can pull it off?"

The female raccoon nodded her head sagely. "The two of us don't attract attention. We're clean-cut raccoons and look like a young dating couple. I'll need you in there, gambling with me – your only form of ID is your passport, right now? Hmm." She shook her head and paused to think of a solution. "I'd have to somehow hack into the passport agency and change your official age to eighteen so that if they look up your passport through a network interface, they'll let you in to play. It'll be more than just a photo ID, though. If you don't slouch, if you keep your head up and brush your hair, you could pass for a legal adult. Just keep talking in that deeper voice and we'll be all set. So yes, an innocent looking couple could easily get somewhere in range to pull this off. With my planning, it wouldn't be impossible…" She paused then her visage changed, offering a slick grin. "If you're as good as you boasted to be, last night."

"I'm not," he said quietly. He watched her facial expression turn to one of disappointment. This time, Conner grinned. After a short pause, he added, "I'm better. I always play-down my abilities. No one likes boasting, so I try and stay humble. A master thief… growing up with a mother who works for the ICPO – are you kidding? You evolve to a new level of sneaky at a very early age in order to keep one step ahead of her – if anything, having an Inspector for a mother made me better. I hated getting caught, so I learned how to be faster than her eye, smarter than her ability to reason and identify potential situations… and, most of all, I had to be able to counter all of her logical analytical training. And this was just to sneak cookies, hide adult magazines in my room and go to my friend's house to play video games in the middle of the night. But I digress; I'm the best – draw up a plan."

Rachel smiled brightly. "Let's go get some breakfast – we'll figure out the legal aspects, for our cover and alibi. We'll need gambling money to buy our way onto the floor. We'll need fancy outfits and we'll need a way to move the money while staying on the casino floor, so as not to blow our cover. I know it's cliché to return to the scene of the crime after a job like that, but it's also our alibi."

"Leave it to me to be the sneak; you just figure out the logistics." He slide his legs out from under the covers and stretched, wearing nothing more than boxer shorts, dressed differently than how he'd gone to bed. "And yes, I'd love breakfast. One thing, though… it is still going to be very hard to do this job alone. Maybe we should look into hiring someone for a cut of the gig. It's hard to maintain an alibi if you stay off the surveillance cameras for too long. Should we be interrogated by the police or casino staff… well, only claim they were in the bathroom for so long before the cops won't believe you, y'know?"

"Fair enough. We'll take it into consideration." Her eyes lowered then lifted again, quickly looking over his boyish frame. "Didn't you go to bed with pants?"

"Yeah, you kept the heat on all night to dry my shoes – so I took off my pants." He pushed his foot beneath the bed and kicked them out of their hiding place. "It's my fault – I shouldn't have tried crossing the Volga River by foot yesterday. Just the same, if I didn't try, we wouldn't have been able to get the license plate you saw out on the ice."

"You're lucky you only fell through that section up to your knees," she reminded him in a scolding tone. "And, by the way, I looked up the information on that plate. The broken mount attached to the plate was most likely part of a bumper belonging to a van tied to international pirating crimes. The van was located with one dead pirate in the same part of town you and Surge drove through the night of the car chase. I think that hovercraft you guys crossed may have been in pursuit of the van at the time."

"Then how did the plate get out on the ice? That's a damn peculiar place for license plates to be."

"Well, I'd heard that these guys were using a modified body kit. The van was supposedly outfitted to drive over the water. When I saw the plate reflecting the sunlight, sitting out on the ice yesterday, I had this gut feeling that it was somehow related to that marine van. I had to know for myself. I didn't want to say anything until I ran the plates because I hate being wrong."

Conner quirked a brow at her then paused to look her over. "You're already dressed and showered?" He rubbed his paws over his ears then said, "Give me a minute to clean up. Then we'll go. By the way, what's your fascination with a van built to float?"

"I wanna know more about it," she told him. "Don't you find it cool that someone out there has the know-how to make something like a van work out in a large body of water? I mean, if it's fast enough, you could get away from anyone and go anywhere. All you would need to have is a lot of reserve fuel and the world would be your oyster, or whatever that saying is."

"Yeah… I suppose." He ambled into the bathroom, grazing his fingertips over his sides. He pushed his paws downward into the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down his legs. The teenage boy used the heel of his foot to shut the door behind himself.

Rachel looked away from the bathroom door and sat down on the bed, drawing her laptop back over her knees. "Rebecca, huh? Hmm, Lisa…" She tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Boys aren't supposed to have a cute ass – they're supposed to be blocky and stocky and plain." She glanced back at the bathroom door. 'He had nice legs, too,' she thought to herself, opening the notebook again. 'I wonder if he has any clue that my grandfather was a fox…' She used the Internet on her notebook computer to look up the nearest place to sit down and eat breakfast.


A/N: How conveniently cliché! Everyone has the same idea – let's go eat breakfast! So, how will these three duets fall together? Well, to recap everything… Surge and Javari, who have the cane, will go eat at the breakfast bar. Keri and DJ, who are past associates with Javari, will be going to the breakfast bar. Conner and Rachel, who know Surge, will be going to the breakfast bar. So, with any lucky, Conner will get his cane back, meet up with the two other groups by accident, and eventually he and Rachel will choose their future Core Teammates for the new Cooper Gang. The other two people will become supporting cast members but not part of the core gang. Also, by conveniently cliché coincidence… All six of them want to get their hands on the money that will be in the area in about two days time. Yeah! Let's hope everything goes smoothly!