Orwell stared apprehensively at the image on the screen. She watched intently as the man seated on the park bench read a newspaper. The bill of his baseball cap shadowed his face from the security camera she had tapped into. Her eyes flicked from the screen to the clock mounted in the dashboard of the car and back. Ten minutes. She only had ten minutes remaining to figure out what she was walking into. She rubbed her forehead wearily and let out a soft sigh.

"Are you all right?" Vince's voice asked softly in her ear.

Her lips quirked a soft smile at the concern in her partner's voice as she continued to watch the man on the screen sip his coffee. "I'm fine." She answered, attempting to sound more reassured than she felt. Kozmo's return had unnerved her more than she was willing to admit. She knew she had little to fear as long as she stayed away from Trolley Park. After all, she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had not been interested in her. He wanted the cape. He had no idea who she was. She had just been in the way.

Orwell rubbed her throat as she remembered the feel of the fabric cutting into her skin, slowly cutting off her air. The memories had returned in full force the night before, as had the nightmares. She had given up on sleep in the early hours of the morning and focused her mind and her computers on the puzzle before her in an attempt to figure out what Kozmo had been after. At least that had been her intention….before she had received another message from what she had dubbed the 'creepy dagger owner'. This one had thanked her for her assistance and asked if she would be willing to help a little more. Intrigued, she sent a reply requesting more information and was startled when the reply was nearly instantaneous. If she was willing to help, she was to go to Palm City Park at noon that day, where she would meet with a man in a blue baseball cap seated on a park bench on the north end of the pond. So here she was, five minute until noon, staking out the park in an attempt to get an clear image of the face of the man on the bench.

"You don't have to go through with this, you know." Vince stated. "It isn't like he knows who Orwell is."

Orwell bit her lip as the man raised his head slightly, exposing the lower half of his face. "This is our best lead. Our only lead." She replied as she willed the man to look into the camera.

"I'm just saying that I could meet with him." Vince argued.

A fond smile tweaked her lips at the concern evidenced in his voice. "And what if he recognizes you? You are supposed to be dead." She retorted softly. "I'll be fine. I've got my guardian angel watching out for me." She teased.

All humor dissolved as the man on the screen raised his head and looked straight at the camera. Her fingers flew over the touch screen as she captured an image of his face and activated the recognition software. She frowned as the man smirked before lowering his head once more, as if he knew she was watching. The computer beeped softly, drawing her attention back to the screen. A well shaped eyebrow arched in surprise. She shut the screen down and exited the car.

"Showtime."


Davis slipped his sunglasses on and leaned back against the well worn wood of the park bench. He was certain Orwell would be watching from the security camera feed. He had selected the bench with the knowledge of its location. It was of little risk to him if anyone else intercepted the feed. He had a valid reason for being in the city. He was a businessman after all, with a penthouse in the city. No one here had reason to suspect his dual identity as the Shadow had not yet surfaced in this part of the country before the previous night.

The smirk morphed into a smile as he watched a small group of children run across the field beside the pond after a soccer ball. Their carefree laughter and childish excitement washed against his mental shields like white noise against the ever present buzz of humanity that lingered in the background. One grew used to it after a while. He rarely noticed the noise these days, which was a bonus considering he lived in a city that never slept. He grinned as he felt a familiar presence enter the park and move in his direction. So she had decided to meet with him after all. He folded the paper and set it down on the bench beside him as the soft click of heels grew closer. The sound slowed and then quieted as she came to a stop beside the bench.

"The sun is shining." A soft voice stated dryly.


"But the ice is slippery."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Orwell could not help but smile at the code phrase. It all sounded very mysterious, like a bad spy film. She smoothed the material of her jean skirt beneath her as she sat down on the opposite end of the bench and crossed her legs casually.

"You are a long way from home, Mr. Cranston." She stated softly.

To her surprise, the man grinned. He slipped the glasses from his face as he turned his head toward her. A pair of brilliant blue eyes swept her appreciatively as the grin widened. Orwell flushed beneath his gaze as she felt a blush rising against her throat.

"I needed a change of scenery. Thought the California sun might do me some good." His rich voice replied.

She cleared her throat softly and quirked a small smile. "So what can I do for you, Mr. Cranston?" she asked.

"Call me Davis and you could start by telling me your name."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and fixed him with suspicion. "You don't know it?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was just told I was to meet someone in Palm City Park at noon." He grinned disarmingly. "And here you are."

Orwell frowned slightly. She had been under the impression that he had been her mysterious contact. His answer suggested otherwise. "You can call me Julie." She offered, falling back on the alias she had given to Vince's circus friends. She watched as amusement cross his handsome face before disappearing behind his friendly smile once more.

"Nice to meet you, Julie."

Orwell folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the bench. "I don't have a lot of time, Davis. What is it that you need?"

His face grew serious as he reached into the paper at his side and retrieved an embossed envelop from within its folds. "A friend of mine is in need of your assistance. He says that you have been of great help in the past and that a problem has come up that you may be able to assist with. As you know a shipment of historical treasures arrived last night and is to be displayed at a gala tonight. My friend believes that the man who stole his item intends to steal its mate tonight at the museum. As you know both the city and the workings of the Ark Corporation, he believes that you may be of assistance in helping to prevent this, if you are willing."

Orwell studied him for a moment while she considered the offer. "What kind of help would you require?" she asked.

A warm feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach as he smiled at her and held out the envelope. She opened it to find a richly embossed invitation, one to the Museum Gala that night.

"Tell me, Julie, do you dance?"