Chapter -21-

Crowded around the small screen, everyone watched with anticipation while Dawn worked her way through the coding script to break into the FBI database. She clicked furiously on keys, trying to hurry through the firewall before it could identify her as an intruder. She mumbled, "Once you're in, you're safe – it's people trying to get in that risk their tails. So far as their computer is concerned, we're an agent trying to log in from his or her laptop, but made a typo while inputting the password."

Winthrop folded his arms, standing adjacent to his wife. "And what happens if we can't do it?"

Dawn shrugged, never pulling her paws from the keyboard. "We have Conner steal a laptop from a real FBI agent, here in Europe. It won't come to that, so just relax."

Quite suddenly the screen went blank with nothing more than a simple blinking cursor at the top left hand corner. Karla blinked, Conner quirked his brows and Winthrop leaned forward, looking on with mild interest. "What happened?"

The nineteen year old raccoon glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowed and a grin tugging at the corner of her muzzle. "We're in. That's the prompt – what did you expect?"

Conner cut in. "A fancy display with a shiny, slick user interface that has a brilliant flashing animated GIF file, with the words, "ACCESS GRANTED" is about what we expected. I know, I know… this isn't the movies."

"You hardly watch movies anyway, if I recall," replied Dawn with a snicker. "The fancy graphical user interface layout is an application. This is just a command prompt. The Power Shell layout isn't designed to show anything fancy. Now, what is it we're looking for?"

Conner handed her a slip of paper. "Those are all the artifacts we could come up with when we brainstormed on the way to Glasgow. I want to know of anyone and everyone who is researching all of them. That way, we eliminate all the college kids doing an essay, all the historians who are verifying the accuracy of Wikipedia and everyone else in between. I only want to know names of people who have done Internet searches on every single article listed on that page."

Dawn looked over the sheet then cut her gaze back up at Cooper. "You wrote it on paper. How quaint."

This time, Karla smirked and said, "It doesn't leave a trail after its burned, now does it?"

"True." Dawn began executing search commands into the prompt. The wording looked like simplistic shorthand writing, unintelligible to anyone else in the room. She clicked the 'enter' key and a listing of text values displayed on the screen. More typing followed, changing the display on the screen with another group of meaningless words, commands and text based information.

"What is all of this?" asked Winthrop.

"ASCII," replied Dawn. "Just give me a moment, will ya'?" She continued to type then flipped the paper over and lifted her paw expectantly. "Writing utensil, please."

Someone offered her a pen, she didn't pay any attention to who offered it. Dawn brought the rollerball ink pen to the page and began jotting down words and clips of phrases. Her handwriting was all fancy curves. She placed the butt of the pen between her right molars and began typing again. After another moment, she jotted down another grouping of meaningless words. To the group, it appeared as, "$ SEH" followed by an underscore, then, "REGImexico Mayan Cortez. S-3-rhodi," underscore, "artifacts," backslash, "listing," another backslash, followed by letters and numbers grouped together. She went to the next line in the prompt and typed, "Finger Artifact."

Karla asked, "Does that mean the artifact we're looking for is a ring?"

"No," said Dawn with a huff of annoyance. "Finger is a command. I want to finger where the word ARTIFACT is utilized in the file to narrow down my search. Just… please, let me work."

The group grew silent. Dawn continued a rapid assault on the keys. Her plastic nails created a noisy clicking, something she was obviously already used to hearing, as it didn't distract her. After a moment she glanced over her shoulder and said, "This douche bag, Moreau, is looking for an artifact that belonged to the Mayan leader, a jaguar named Chan-Bahlun. Hernan Cortés seized it in the mid 1520's. The Yucatán Peninsula had a record rainfall for one season, followed by a record dry spell after this artifact disappeared. I'm no historian, but I've definitely never heard of this artifact."

"He was the Conquistador, mistaken as the returning king, Chan-Bahlun – a jaguar with blond hair, a beard and blue eyes." Everyone turned to Karla who shrugged then continued speaking. "I lived in the middle ages, you morons. Anyhow, the Spaniard returned to Europe with Chocolate Cocoa pods, called Cacao, which was symbolic of life and fertility. It was bitter in tea but when mixed with sugar and milk, you get milk chocolate, as we know it today. …Then the Swiss and the Swedes celebrated by gorging themselves." Her words broke the tension by issuing a round of soft chuckles from everyone.

"Do you know of the artifact that the guy took?"

Karla shook her head. "Hernan brought back goods. Spanish priests burned the codices of the Mayans and converted them to Christianity. I've never heard of an artifact belonging to them that would have anything to do with all this other stuff. When was this artifact discovered?"

Dawn began typing again. After what felt like several long minutes, she paused and read aloud, "It was unearthed in 1998 but was considered just another trinket until a fifth Mayan codices surfaced in December of 2012 by one of the people obsessed with the end of the world. The trinket was labeled as a gift from the sea, protected by Chan-Bahlun and left to the people upon his return to the sea."

"I thought cats were afraid of water," Winthrop mused.

"They bathe more often than most," Karla reminded in a stern tone.

Winthrop added, "I mean running water. Isn't it supposed to wash away oils that keeps their fur shiny or something? Maybe it was salt water, or possibly…"

"Shut up, you guys." Conner folded his arms then nodded to Dawn to continue.

"Yeah, so…" The teenage raccoon cleared her throat and nodded back to Conner. "Anyhow, the artifact and the fifth codices disappeared in January of 2013. I …guess there were some really disappointed people out there when the world didn't end. The artifact showed up…" she paused and scrolled down on the prompt to the next screen full of words. Text wrapped to the next line without any formatting style. "…It showed up in Europe during the Second World War in Dresden then disappeared again. Then it showed up in…"

"Wait." Karla placed a paw on Dawn's shoulder. "It's not talking about the two of Dresden. Dresden is the name of the codex written in Mayan and is named for the Library where it was kept, the Royal Library of Dresden, Germany. It sat there for about seventy years until the early eighteen hundreds when some scholar got hyped up about the contents."

"Right," said Dawn, "My mistake… okay, so it's the fourth and largest one salvaged by sympathetic priests who decided not to burn the Mayan crap."

Karla taped a nail on her lower lip in thought. "Hmm, I only know of three codices. Found in reverse order if I'm not mistaken, I do believe they are known as the Madrid Codex, which was called the Tro Codex, also known as the Tro-Cortesianus… then there is the Paris one – Peresianus Codex, and, finally, the Dresden one, first not the fourth, which was linked back to Chichen Itza. The Mayan city famous for… being… famous." She shrugged. "I'm no expert in this stuff. The supernatural society took it seriously in the middle ages. They also followed the Mayan calendar and prophecies. They take that stuff quite seriously."

"Weird." Copper unfolded his arms then placed his paws on the backrest of the seat that Dawn was using. "So the FBI apparently knows about this, too. What does the artifact look like? And who was looking up information on it?"

Dawn folded her paws and glanced over her shoulder, back at the rest of the group. "There are currently two people in the last five months who have used the Internet to look up all the artifacts on your page. BOTH of them were looking up information on the Mayan artifact. There are less than ten others looking up information on this very same artifact, so it's obvious that not many people know of its existence. Eight and a half billion people are unaware that it even exists, you guys."

Conner frowned. "So much for looking it up on The History Channel." He sighed then shrugged. "Okay, what's it look like?"

"Hell if I know," said Dawn. "I can't even tell you which of the thirteen bakhtuns we're in. Screw it – we didn't died when it was prophesized so I don't believe in the Katuns, the Bakhtuns, or any of that crap."

Karla shrugged with a slow upward roll of her shoulders. "I don't follow the Tzolkin almanac, either, I'm afraid. The original calendar count ran from about August 10th, 3113 BC, to December 24th 2011. But the math was a little off and all this other stuff that goes into effect… Since the Mayan calendar was about ten-thousandth of a day more accurate than the calendar we currently use, there had to be a little more math involved to figure out that it was supposed to notated between 3114, Before the Common Era, and end December 21st, 2012. But, like you said, we're all still here and no one died. There was no huge flood. There was no asteroid. There was no iron ball emerging from the center of the Earth or any of that silly nonsense. The long-count calendar simply started over again. Big damn deal. After that, the supernatural community decided they could give a damn about the Mayan prophecies. Me? I slept through it." A grin was offered.

"Yeah, that you did," said Winthrop.

"So what's your rant about?" Dawn shifted her weight in the seat, looking back over her other shoulder at Karla.

"If the Mayans were simply predicting when the Long-Count would end, or when the Polar ends of the Earth would change, or when we would pass through the Milky Way Galaxy, or when their calendar would start over… and they were not predicting the end of the world… then why does their artifact mean jack? Maybe that's a wrong end clue, too."

"Who cares?" said Conner, throwing his paws up in the air. "If it's right or if it's wrong, it doesn't matter. I want to see if Moreau is tracking it down… if he is, we can trace a trail back to him. Then I'll know where he's hiding, I'll show up on his front door and use my cane to push his nose up into his skull. Then we'll take all the artifacts he's already amassed… and spread them out again. Seriously, you guys… who cares if the artifact is right or not? There's no way to tell without finding it and putting it on the shelf with the rest, in Moreau's office. Who cares? Besides, how in the hell does some old extinct race know how to tell the future, anyhow?"

Karla grinned at Conner. "Nice… And to answer your question, some suggest that the Mayans are descendents from antediluvian civilizations like, I don't know… Atlantis or something. It's suggested that they passed on their knowledge when the world ended for them… and the survivors started as a tribe, say… the Mayans. Those people were obsessed with their culture and so it was never forgotten when the next cataclysm was marked to happen… But ah well, it didn't come true. So who gives a flying fu—"

"Wait," interjected Winthrop. "What does the Long Count calendar even represent? It has to have some sort of relevant meaning."

Dawn scratched her head and scrolled through the words on the screen, speaking aloud intermittently while reading. "Hmm, let's see… it's about… fifty-two hundred years and… hmm." She then snapped her fingers. "Twenty-five thousand nine hundred twenty years is basically when we dip back through the equator of the Milky Way – think of it that way… Anyhow, the Long-Count is exactly one-fifth of that time. December of 2012 was supposed to be the end of the fourth age, going into the fifth. It wasn't supposed to signify the planet exploding, it was supposed to signify a huge celestial change that causes a few negative changes on Earth. Maybe the math was off."

Conner grinned. "Maybe the end of the world is tomorrow. Are you guys ready for it?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Karla mused. "The Mayan prophet, Lord Pacal said that it wouldn't be the end of the world, either. He said the dominating masculine energy of left brain logic will merge with the feminine energies of right brain intuition and will thus end confrontations in polarity of the brain. He said that it will give birth to a Oneness consciousness, and the mortal mind will evolve as of that date." She snorted, adding, "I call bullshit."

"Cute," mumbled Dawn. "Okay, it's getting stuffy in here. I need a break from you guys. Yeah, a civilization was confirmed to exist off the shore of Bermuda, big deal. It's a few underwater carvings that might have been roads. But the water eroded it into nothing. Whether or not Atlantis existed, whether or not the Mayans were survivors that kept the knowledge going passed down from their more civilized ancestors… in the end, there's only one thing that matters…" She got up from her chair and stretched, walking away from the computer. "There is a new Atlantis dome down there and we need to be the ones to sink it." She then walked away from the group but not before glancing over her shoulder at Conner. "And moving that thing across the world to Japan isn't feasible. Just sink it in the next deepest trench, on this side of the globe." She grinned then walked to the front door. "I'm going to go and stretch for a few minutes."

The front door shut behind her. Winthrop turned to Karla and Conner. "What if blowing up this Atlantis Dome is somehow the trigger for ending the world? What if we cause it? Blowing that thing up would cause a tidal wave, I'm sure. We might be fulfilling prophecy, and the math would have only been off by a decade and a half."

"Oh Jesus Christ." Conner threw his paws up into the air again and followed Dawn outside of the apartment.

Karla glowered at her husband. "Blowing up one little dome won't end the whole world," she said. "Doofus. I swear. Things that wipe out an entire civilization require global or celestial situations. Even if the world nuked itself tomorrow, enough people would survive that when the sun finally shined again, everything would resume."

"So when is the end of the world?"

The felox slumped into Dawn's chair. "Hell if I know. It all depends on what you believe in. The world only ends when you die. The question is, how permanent is The End Of The World? Some believe in reincarnation. If you believe in Jesus Christ, who came at the meridian of time, then you take into account that fossils prove the modern person has been around for thirty thousand years… then guess what? We have a long way to go before the end of days. But some Christians are narrow-minded and discount the age of things like fossils. They claim the world is only six thousand years old, based on the modern calendar. Basing anything on the modern calendar is proof of their narrow-mindedness because the modern calendar wasn't around in the days of Christ. It wasn't even his real name – it's a name the Spaniards gave him! So, even if that's the case and they're right about the world being only six thousand years old, we still have well over a thousand years left, since Christ comes at the center, at the middle of time. Okay… now, let's say you're a Mayan. Guess what? The end of the world already happened for you. Your ancestors include Spaniards, Mexicans and so forth. Your world… your civilization has already ended. Maybe December 21st 2012 marked the day that the last of their most important and understood artifacts would disappear? And, thus, their civilization ended for good on that day and everything was forgotten by the next day, because the world didn't end, so no one took stock in their beliefs any longer."

Winthrop rubbed his chin. "Hmm, that's actually a pretty good hypothasis. Okay, so what if I'm any other religion, or lack-there-of, in this world? When does the world end for ME?"

"The day you die, you knuckle head. When one civilization ends, another one crops up. So far as a six thousand year old civilization, many civilizations have come and gone in six thousand years. So the world has ended and started over for many people many times since then. It's all interpretation. So far as I'm concerned, no one is ended my world – I have a baby to raise and a husband to satisfy. Now, get your tail on the sofa and be quiet." She pointed to a nearby couch.

"Hey, wait a second. I'm the man of the house, here. I'm the boss."

"You're only the boss on the rare occasions that I give you permission to be the boss, now sit down and be quiet." Karla walked towards the front door and let herself outside. She approached Conner and Dawn, cleared her throat and said, "You said something about needing another member of the team. Who?"

"You've never met them," said Conner. "I want to find the Tiikeri sisters. Even just one of them will do nicely. Then we'll be ready to make some plans."

The felox nodded, asking, "What's the name of one of them?"

"Keri Tiikeri."

Another nod. "Fair enough. I still have contacts in the supernatural inner circle, known as The Guiding Hand. Now, if you go repeating this stuff, I'll deny it and call you crazy. Anyhow, The Hand is comprised of supernatural beings who prefer working together. Sure there are supernatural creatures who loathe The Hand, but… that's neither here nor there. I'll make some calls and we'll take a trip. One of those people are liable to have some sort of ability that will help us find your other teammates. When we find them, we can get started on hunting down this artifact, whether or not it's Mayan – it doesn't matter. I think we should find out some way to track down Moreau, then we should get his attention by staging an artifact hunt and claim that it was successful. When he shows up, we trail him back to his base and execute your original plan… kick his tail."

"That's what I'm talking about," said Cooper with a dazzling smile. "Keri Tiikeri, go plug it into whatever… I'm still struggling with all the aspects of supernatural citizens. They're just natural mutations so far as I'm concerned. But if you know someone who can locate one of my old friends… go for it. I won't stop ya'." He turned back to Dawn and said, "As I was saying… I don't blame you for taking off. My mother even said it was the smartest thing you could have done because you're smart enough to know your limitations and your strengths. That shows good judgment. I need your good judgment. Winthrop isn't going to help us, and the three of us would struggle to do this stuff alone. Karla and I can't do squat without you. You said you narrowed down your search to just a very select few people… maybe you can get us some information on those people?"

"Yeah, I can do that," said Dawn. "It'll provide a place to start…" She then turned to Karla and offered a paw. "I'll join your little coterie. Karla, you impressed me a few moments ago. I didn't think you knew anything about history, culture, or anything that requires relevant intelligence. I thought you were just an engineered piece of ass with fancy abilities."

"I lived through it – the middle ages were my years. They were my civilization, which has long since ended. I'm not as smart as you guys. I fidgit with an iPod… That gizmo has been out for decades. But I'm far smarter than guys like Thomas Gerard."

Dawn rubbed her chin. "I don't… really remember him."

"Grizzly bear Interpol Agent. He was there, in that store, the day you and I met, Dawn." Conner leaned back against the wall outside of her apartment door. "And you're right, Karla," he added, glancing over at the lush framed felox. "He wasn't all that bright. He wasn't a complete idiot, but he wasn't the brightest bulb on the Vegas strip, either." Cooper turned his attention back to Dawn and said, "Thank you for joining the party. We're going to have fun working together, again."

Karla clasped her left paw on Dawn's shoulder and her right one on Conner's broad shoulder. "It's going to get dangerous again. Around the time that we get Moreau's attention, which will probably be the very minute we start looking for this last artifact… well, it doesn't take a genius to assume he'll start making life difficult for us."

Dawn frowned. "I heard he was smart – he's probably going to lay low and let us do all the work only to show up at the last minute and try to steal it."

"I'm counting on that, Dawn."

Karla shook her head. "I've lived a few life times. I'm seasoned enough to know that people only do that stuff in stories. He's going to make things difficult. Trust me. People like him are a real piece of work. Remember, Sire and I worked with him. Sire hired him years upon years ago. Stephan, back in 1979, helped him with a few treatments… it increased his physical strength and helped him to live longer. He's not your usual old man."

"Hmm." Conner's jaw tightened. "I've never met him, so I'm going to have to go on your assessment of him. Okay, then…" He turned back to Dawn and asked, "Can we finish this search through the FBI's database? I want to move forward as soon as possible. You don't mind leaving Glasgow, do you?"

"Not in the least," she said, heading back into her apartment.

Finnish-Russian Border

A small warehouse building overlooking the water in Nuijamaa

Thirty minutes AGO…

Keri Tiikeri ran her fingers back through her poufy head-fur. Her gleaming eyes reflected the words on the holographic display, glassy from exhaustion. "Did you hear the news, yesterday?" She paused and turned away from the floating display to give her eyes a break. "Conner Cooper's body disappeared. Something tells me that he wasn't abducted – there's very little that someone can do with a comatose body. No, I actually think he woke up and took off. God, I sure hope so, at least – we could really use his help."

"It's possible but not probable – he had extremely limited brain activity last I read. It's a shame, really; his family members are missing and presumed dead. A tragic and sudden end to the Cooper line."

Keri snorted in disdain. "He's probably trying to do the same thing we're trying to do at this very moment. Only we one-up him by a year and a half of working together. All right, I think I found something in these texts – look at these two symbals right here."

The skunk approached her, placing a calm paw against her shoulder. He leaned in close, peering at the holographic screen floating above her desk. "I see them. For someone who isn't versed in this sort of thing, you have a surprisingly uncanny eye for recognition. Look at this one," he said, placing a black fingertip against the energy field. It distorted slightly causing him to draw his paw back. "That one is a snake being – you don't see the Naga in this detail in Mayan culture. It's usually drawn differently. But, do you see how there are snakes rising out of it's chest – I don't think those are meant to be snakes coming out of snakes… I think they symbolize blood slithering out of the torso."

"What about this one?" asked Keri, pointing upward, above his paw. "Right there, above the Naga creature icon… it's a feline with a oddly bushy tail – really quite thick. You said their leader was a jaguar with blonde hair and a beard… this is almost like the depiction of their leader but without the beard." She lowered her finger and pointed to a slight marking on the torso. "It's a female – look. Breasts. It's definitely a female."

The skunk motioned to the space between the two icons. "It appears that the feline with the tail of a fox is emerging from the Naga with the blood spewing from their chest. Unfortunately I understand this marking well. It prophesizes that there will one day be a being that will come along as a reincarnated woman. She, alone, will have the ability to obtain what we seek."

Keri lifted her tail and gave it a sullen shake. "Mine isn't thick enough."

A long, slow sigh then the memphit said, "No, but Karla Chintzy's tail is."

"Who?"

"She's a felox whose biggest and strangest quirk involves reincarnation – she's older than me but not in this form. I would like to enlist her aid in finding this final piece."

"So I've told you I'm here doing this to try and rescue my friend, Javari if she's truly still alive. I'm also doing this to avenge everyone for Conner's sake… but you never told me why you're getting involved in this mess."

The skunk's eyes lowered to the floor for a moment then lifted once more. "I foolishly aided Moreau in 1979. My treatments have extended his life, fortitude and endurance to extend beyond the average mortal. I'm partially responsible for everything that's happening. I've seen cataclysmic changes once – I do not wish to experience such things a second time. What he's attempting to do will cause such things to a level that one cannot possibly fathom unless you've been through it. I wish to rid my heart of guilt and strike him down before he finds his last piece."

"Fair enough." Keri rubbed her chin and turned her attention back to the images and words that floated above her head. "How do you plan on taking out a guy who is now supposedly all badass, or whatever?"

"There are ways. I've not lived as long as I have without building methods with which to survive something as barbarically simplistic as combat. It's a way of life and a way of mortal society, so I'm more than prepared."

"Okay, then. Oh!" She stood up and pointed to an icon on the screen. "Wow! Look at this one!" She pressed the "print" icon at the top of the display.

He stood up slowly and brought a paw to his chin in thought. "Now that is interesting. We need to access the Internet about this one… This could be big." A noise startled them both. They looked at one another then headed for the window of the small two-story building. The skunk passed through the holographic visual and arrived at the window first. "Friends of yours? This building hasn't been used for ages – the fact that someone knows we're here is disconcerting at best." He turned back to Keri who approached the window.

She gazed down at a group of armed men in militia gear, complete with helmets and riot shields. "Holy crap, it's like they're expecting to fight Robocop. So much for the safety of Suomi… Okay, let's head out the back way. There's a pole I've welded to the mounts where the fire escape stairs used to be attached to the brickwork."

"I admit, I'm not enthusiastic about this."

Keri grabbed his shirt at the shoulder and said, "You're not enthusiastic about anything, dude. C'mon!" She snatched a warm page from the printer tray and her car keys. She closed the browser page and clicked a shortcut icon on the desktop designed to clear the browsing history then clicked on another icon labeled, "SOS" before rushing away from the computer terminal. At the back of the building, she opened a set of wooden window shutters. The plywood covering opened on discrete hinges and she gave the skunk a push. "Go, go. I'll close this properly." He passed through then she stepped out, behind him, onto the remains of a corroded metallic platform. She turned about, pulled the plywood cover back into place and hooked a cotter pin into place to lock it.

The memphit took the pole into his palms. "What's the lock for?" He clung to the metal sliding pole, curled his legs around it and held on dearly all the way to the bottom.

Keri followed. She hit the ground with a soft thump and a grunt then said, "Incase of a storm. Okay, we'll come back for my truck – there's a boat hidden under the Joutsenontie byway span, where it crosses the water."

"Where…?"

She pointed towards the northwest. "Route 3921, just off of Rajatie. It's less than a kilometer from here. Let's avoid the roads, directly… just in case." She waved her paw and he followed. She cut through the trees that ran along the Rajatie, a road that was beginning to crack along the asphalt surface. "Not much longer, c'mon. Stay low!" She ducked through the brush and trees, pushing aside a branch every so often.

Keri waved for the skunk to pass then she knelt down and drew a small spool of string from her pocket. With her other paw, she stashed the printed page into her back pocket then began to unwind the string. She secured it around the trunk of two nearby trees then shoved the remainder of the thick string back into her front pocket. "Get down," she said then took cover in a bush.

"Your hearing must be better than my own," he said, taking refuge in a clutter of greenery. He received no response but seconds later was able to hear scuffling.

A lone scout paused and sniffed at the air. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his assault rifle. The feline mercenary moved forward, slowly. Something caught against his boot and he froze. His eyes lowered, gazing at the string that was now pulled tight against his footwear. "God dammit," the man cursed in plain English. "Now I've got to track this damned line back to the mine without setting it off." He lowered to his knees, keeping the tension even on the string.

Without warning, something struck him in the back of his head. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Keri knelt adjacent to him and began to remove his gear. She looked up, towards wherever the skunk had hid himself and said, "I really expected him to trip. Mines? He must be paranoid, but it works for me! She withdrew his sidearm, took the holster, his additional ammunition, radio, earpiece and assault rifle. Her head tilted a bit. "Belgian weapons, huh?" She removed webbing that held grenades in place against his torso then his boots. Keri drew the first boot back then launched it into the air with all of her might. Seconds later, a satisfying splash rang in her ears, inaudible to the man who was with her. She repeated the throw with the second boot but it got caught in a tree.

"What's the point of throwing his boots?" asked the man.

"The ground gets softer, up ahead. If he wakes up in a moment, he won't be able to chase as efficiently." She then took a first aid kit from his flack jacket and the harness that held it to the fabric. "Nice! Hold this," she added, tossing the box to the dark-furred man. "Don't drop it. There might be valuable stuff in there." Keri removed his combat knife and its sheath then another small pistol. She then lifted the handle of the pistol and whipped the man in the back of his head.

He flinched, groaned then relaxed on the ground. Keri stood up and murmured, "He'll easily have a concussion." A grin tugged at the corner of the tigress' maw. "Sleep it off, buddy." She stepped over him, passed the skunk and said, "C'mon, this way." She pushed assault rifle into his paws. "Don't shoot yourself with it."

The memphit's facial features dimmed, as if glowering. "I know my way around weaponry." He stashed the first aid pack halfway down the back of his pants then put the combat knife and its sheath into his boot. Finally, the skunk checked the magazine on the rifle and chambered a round. He flipped the safety switch and aimed the barrel down at a forty-five degree angle. "Is this boat fast and noisy or slow and quiet?"

"It's both," she said, adding, "There's an electric motor on the front and a two hundred horsepower Evinrude outboard on the back. At that point, we'll stash the guns and look like tourists or something. We're almost there." She continued through the trees and bushes, quickening her pace. At the edge of the wooded area, she paused, putting a paw out to stop him. "Wait."

"For what?"

"You're no general, just keep quiet." She eased forward, peering through the leaves and general foliage. Her tail puffed up and her body became as rigid as a statue. In a soft whisper, she told him, "We… are… screwed."

"It's feasible that if they belong to Moreau, they're here to execute anyone considered competition."

Keri cut her gaze back, glaring over her shoulder at him. She whispered, "How the hell would anyone even know what we're looking for?"

This time, it was the skunk that face faulted. "What we searched for is traceable over the Internet. He simply has connections that lead him to find us. Quicker than I'd hoped, unfortunately."

"We're not going down without a fight. Fall back slowly. How long can you hold your breath?"

"I'm no pearl diver," he said, adding, "Approximately two minutes at best, with adrenaline and a prayer."

"I'll create a distraction." She pocketed her pistols and took the assault rifle from him. Keri flipped the safety switch, removed a grenade from the netting and withdrew the pin. She nodded to a nearby branch. "Quick, hold that." He did as she asked.

Keri tossed the grenade up into the air then swung the rifle by the barrel. The butt stock struck the grenade, sending it straight up through the branches. She disengaged the safety and handed the weapon back to him then nodded towards the north. "Let's head straight to the water. They're actually out on the road, guarding the damned bridge."

Seconds later, a fairly distant explosion filled the air from the south. There was shouting and the sound of heavy footfalls. Most of the men began running in the direction of the detonation, weapons at the ready.

"Taking a swim is the absolute last ditch plan," she told the man. "I want to keep this printed page dry at all costs." They broke from the trees at the edge of the waterway. She slide down the embankment onto a line of rocks down at the water's level. She moved to the left, towards the bridge, just to the west. "I can see the boat from here, stay quiet, keep your head down and move swiftly! New change of plan – I'll gun the motor and you shoot at the remaining guards on the bridge. They'll duck and cover, giving us additional time to get away."

"Understood," he replied, muttering, "A lifetime of science and I'm reduced to being a commando."

The two scurried along the rock embankment until they reached the motorboat. She pointed to the rope that kept the boat docked to the line of rocks. "I'll get the anchor; use the knife I gave you and cut the mooring line." She rushed for the stern and pulled the pin, pushing the motor down into the water then crossed to the front and began jerking on the chain that disappeared into the water.

The skunk did as he was instructed, cutting through the mooring rope with the knife. He put it back into the sheath and climbed aboard the small craft, kneeling down on the side. He readied his weapon.

Keri came around to the port, slinging the anchor to the front deck. She scooted back to the center of the craft and dropped into the driver's seat. The tigress withdrew her car keys, flipped through the collection on the ring then put the boat key into the ignition and started it. The burley outboard motor rumbled to life, instantly at an idle – a baritone sounding, 'glub, glub, glub.' A distant shouting could be heard, up on the bridge.

"Hold on to your tail," she shouted, punching the throttle lever all the way forward. The motor's guttural churning noise changed dramatically into a mechanical scream. The boat emerged from beneath the bridge, headed west away from the Russian boarder.

The skunk, still knelt on the deck, began sporadic firing towards the group of men up on the road, above. They dispersed, diving to the ground and dropping from his sight. "It's a shame, there are so many on that bridge…"

Keri cut him off, shouting over the roar of the motor. "Cover your eyes!" She fished out a remote control box from a storage compartment beneath the dashboard. She switched the unit 'on' and thumbed a blinking red button on the side. She held it for a moment then released the button, tossing the remote control overboard. Before the unit even hit the water, the bridge exploded in a grand display of what looked like fireworks.

"Destruction of public roads?" He called back to her.

"No, wait for the smoke to clear!" she shouted in reply. True to her statement, as the thunder of explosives died down and the smoke settled, the bridge was intact, but spectacular flames danced over the concrete structure. "Can't burn concrete, but you can sure as hell burn attackers!"

"You've planned this?" he said, making his way up to a seat next to hers. "Or did you set this up to get away from anyone."

"A little of both," she said in a loud, clear voice, speaking over the motor. "We can't head east – they check for weapons as you go into Russia. We'll have to throw this stuff overboard if the police send a helicopter. For now, keep the weapons down on the deck. Push them under the seat cushions or something. Don't forget to engage the safety!"

"Look!" He lifted his paw, pointing to a black boat up ahead. "There are armed men on that barge."

"Are you SERIOUS?" she shouted in frustration. "Okay, the grenades… I want you to shoot at these idiots as we come up on them. They'll take cover. I'll go right by'em, then I'll drop a grenade on their deck as we pass. Get ready. After this, we've got to go into hiding and lay low for a few days. I know just the place."

The memphit grumbled then stood up. The wind blew back the fur of his face, giving him a sinister look. He leveled the assault rifle over the boat's windshield opened up his stance and fired back-to-back three-round bursts. The men on the barge began firing back but also moved into evasive positions. He knelt to the deck and crawled towards the front, staying low. The assault rifle came to rest along the shaft of an electric motor that lay along the front of the boat. He leveled it carefully then fired another quick burst.

Keri wrestled out another grenade, jerked the pin with her teeth and winced from the discomfort. She then tightened her arm. The high power motorboat screamed by the barge full of armed men. She lobbed the grenade upwards. It landed on the center of the barge, bouncing along the deck – a sound lost over the ambient roar of the Evinrude outboard.

"I only have three…" The last word of her sentence was unheard over the fantastic crack of the grenade's detonation. She then repeated the word a second time, "Remaining!" She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a man drop into the water about four meters from the barge. His body created a fantastic splash.

"These things have a lot of kick!" she exclaimed. "God, we've got to get somewhere quiet and lay low," she added.

He leaned over the front of the bow, leading Keri to believe he may have been throwing up. However, the skunk lifted his head, appearing healthy and well. He scooted back towards the center of the boat and said, "We've taken two holes in the hull. They're above the waterline but it's possible there are holes that I'm unable to see, as well."

"I'll patch'er up later. I'm not as good as DJ but I know how to cover a small gouge in a fiberglass shell. At least they didn't hit the motor."

"Let's count our blessings, young lady." He slumped back into the chair and flipped a switch on the side of the rifle then pushed it under a bench seat with a few stowed life preservers. "I commend you on your clever escape plan. You were impressively prepared."

"I'm a getaway driver, it's what I do." She cast him a sly grin then cut back on the throttle marginally. The front end of the boat lowered by a small amount, making forward visibility easier to attain from their seated position. "I have a fallback location not far from here. It lacks Internet and comfortable sleeping arrangements but it's a lot better than a coffin."

"Agreed." He removed the first aid kit from the back of his pants and shifted his weight in the cushioned seat. "Do you have supplies there?"

"Canned goods with a long shelf life," she replied. "We'll be fine. We'll stay there until either the Calvary shows up or until my intuition says it's safe."

"To what Calvary do you refer?" He glanced back towards the distant barge then cut his gaze to the sky to check for foes. Satisfied, he leaned back in his seat.

Keri took a moment to ponder how to reply to his question. "Okay, don't get bent out of shape," she said, "But I left an SOS on the computer. Yeah, I know… the bad guys will search the computer and find it easily… or they'll cut the connection but… it'll be too late by then. Don't flip out – it's encoded. Unfortunately I've not heard from my sister in a year. She's still in America, somewhere. Most likely, she'll never receive the message. It was something she would have been able to understand. This place has been our fallback point since we were teenagers."

"There must be a catch to your distress signal."

Keri offered him a wan grin and a shrug. "Yeah… there is." She then changed to a sheepish grin and told him, "Anyone monitoring our Internet feed, including this guy you said may have tracked us… yeah… well… they can see it just fine. That's why it's encrypted, encoded and written based off of an inside joke that I share with my twin sister. The only people who could understand it is people that ran with us, when we were together. Javari and her boyfriend are missing in action. Charles Joseph is probably dead by now, along with our old captain and Javari's ex-boyfriend. Dawn is missing, Conner is missing and presumed brain dead, and my sister is hiding out in America, trying to add to her education or… something."

"Being on our own isn't necessarily the end of the world," he said. "The one who is missing? Dawn, you said? Would she be Internet savvy enough to see your message?"

"Yes, but she'd have to be looking at the right place at the right time. Highly unlikely. She'd have to be looking at the same crap that this dude you mentioned is monitoring… you know, using a large Government computer that's screening the lines for information on these artifacts… The likelihood of her doing this is very low. I've only seen her once in the last three years. I went to visit Conner and she was in his room, holding his paw. We spoke briefly. She said she went into hiding after he was impaled and told me what had happened to him. Most likely, with him out of the picture, she's gone deep into hiding. She probably doesn't even know he's awake yet."

"IF he's awake," the man corrected.

"Yeah, if. I've got five euros that says he's awake. People don't just go missing while they're in a coma. I read that news article, man. It said there was no signs of foul play. His fingerprints are on the outside of the suction cups that were connected to him, monitoring his …whatever. I'm telling you – it's a woman's intuition… he's awake."

"Fair enough. Let us hope you are correct. We'll require his assistance if that is the case. For now, let us lay low, as you previously suggested."

"I'd really like to know you're name, first."

"Make up such a designation if you prefer. I'll go by that."

"No, give me one of yours. Surely you've gone by a name recently that you can still use."

"Perhaps 'Stephan' shall suffice." He offered her a weak smile then turned his attention forward, scanning the water ahead of them with a stoic expression.

About twenty-four hours later…

Lentäjäntie 3, Vantaa, Finland

Helsinki-Vantaan lentoasema (Airport)…

Karla Weasel drew a pair of sunglasses from a turning display. She placed them upon the bridge of her snout and gazed into a mirror at the top of the free-spinning display then tried another pair. She continued to look in the mirror as it was positioned perfectly to see what Conner and Dawn were doing. Out in front, the two raccoons stood on the other side of the glass front wall. They appeared to be talking to one another.

Winthrop approached her and placed a paw on her shoulder. "There's something I want you to see," he said.

She lifted a paw and said, "Give me just a minute and I'll be right there." She walked away from the sunglasses display and approached the entrance of the gift shop trying to get close enough to hear the conversation between the two raccoons.

"I'm not sure which sister sent it," said Dawn to Cooper. "The message is pretty clear and it's comprised of phrases the two say to one another but in an order that creates a message where the first decoded line reads, "Tiikeri needs help – come to the safe house in Finland." I've got part of the second line decoded but it's a pain because this isn't my forte. It reads something to the effect of, "Attacked by a group of armed mercenaries." Now, some of that is a little shaky, too. It could read, "We're attacking a group of armed mercenaries," but right now I think the first way I worded it is more accurate. If that's the case, they're in serious trouble and we're not here to fool around – we're here to find them and help them so they can help us."

"But there was a third and a fourth line, correct?"

"Yes," she mused. "The best I could do with those lines are just a few words."

"What've you got?"

She sighed, fishing out a piece of paper from her pocket; she got a grin from Conner and replied to his expression with a smirk, shaking the page in her paw. "Okay, so I went old school so I could doodle some… ANY-way! I've got, Internet, and the word, danger twice. I've got, safehouse again, because of the way it was used in the first section. And that's about it. Oh, and another part where the word 'need' is used, but she wouldn't say she needs help twice… so I'm thinking the second time it comes up is where she says what she'll need, whether it's supplies, a vehicle… weapons… I couldn't tell you."

"I wish we could figure out an address but it doesn't seem likely. And you said you came across this while researching the FBI database that automatically records who is looking up information on these artifacts?"

"You've got it. It's possible, I suppose, that one of the sisters may have been looking up information about the Cooper clan's involvement into all this mess. I mean it's in the news – there are reports that say you're missing from the hospital, although they don't have a name; the media is using the patient ID given to you."

Dawn paused from her statement, shrugged, and continued. "It's a safe bet to assume they wrote down what your patient ID number was and… and I know both of those girls showed up to visit you at one point or another… so they're keeping an eye on you. Maybe they're looking up information to see if you're out there, back at it all over again so they know how to contact you. I can't be sure."

Conner drew a fingertip to his chin. "I mean, here we are in Finland, ready to hunt for her. If only we could somehow… figure out a way to make a guess as to a good place to start."

Something caught Conner's attention. He glanced over his shoulder, through the glass, into the gift shop. Winthrop seemed upset about something and was speaking in a way that showed his frustration. Conner couldn't hear what the weasel was saying to his wife but she wasn't paying full attention to him, either.

"Hold that thought," said Conner. He walked away from Dawn then stepped back into the store and approached Winthrop. "What's wrong? You look pale, man."

He huffed in frustration, now suddenly having the attention of his wife as well. Winthrop shook his head in mock defeat then said, "The television, over on the other side of the store, just said that there are two people holed up in an old warehouse. A media chopper reported that they could see at least one of the victims through a rooftop window – it was a tigress. They are surrounded on all sides by armed attackers. Police intervened only to be dispatched at an alarming rate of speed. After police deaths were confirmed, a military helicopter showed up, possibly for reconnaissance. What if the two people in the warehouse are the two girls you're looking for… you said they're twins, right?"

Conner wordlessly brushed by him and headed across the store, stopping at the television set on the far wall. Dawn joined him minutes later but remained quiet. Karla approached him from the other side. After a few minutes of watching the news footage of a warehouse from above, he announced, "I have a bad feeling about this." Gunfire twinkled at the edge of the screen. On occasion, return fire shimmered back through windows in the warehouse. "Where is this place?"

Dawn raised her voice. "Nuijamaa – I can tell by the words on the screen… that is the name of the area… but I have no idea where it is. My Finnish is a little… uh, rusty. In fact, I've been researching how to read it for only one reason – decoding this online communiqué."

"Excuse me," Conner announced to the busy gift shop. "If anyone speaks English, French or Spanish… I'm looking to get to Nuijamaa and want to know how far it is, how long it will take to get there and what the best route to take would be."

His announcement was repeated in both French and English. The lady behind the counter reached forward and tugged on Conner's blue shirt. "Excuse me, sir," she said in English, "But it's three and a half hours from here, if you take either E18 or E75. It's about two hundred and fifty kilometers. If you have a great deal of money, you can rent a helicopter. My friend did that once for their birthday party but had the pilot fly them around Helsinki."

"Which way is the rental place?"

In weak English, the woman replied, "It's not far – follow the signs for…" She paused then lifted a paw in realization that they wouldn't be able to read the signs. "Wait, I'm due for a lunch break anyhow. I'll show you."

Cooper smiled, delighted by her friendly willingness to help. The girl opened a door behind the counter and disappeared into the employee office. After a short period of time, a gentleman came from the office, taking over at the front register. The lady returned without her work uniform and came around the counter. She waved for them to follow and said, "I hope you can arrange a ride back into town from there. It's a long scenic walk along the Finnish border if you wind up walking." Moments later, a ways down the hall from the gift shop, she lifted a paw and said, "Behold, friends… the rental office. Let them know what you need up front. I'd better get back – I want to grab lunch before I have to return to my shift."

The raccoon teenager clasped her shoulder appreciatively. "Thank you very much, ma'am. You've been a tremendous help. Where did you learn your English from?"

The girl offered a brilliant smile. "Reading Fan Fiction online, as well as text-based role play. All the really saucy boys chat out of Great Britain." Another sly sort of grin then she gestured for him to be on his way. "Nod of head, wave of paw and all that good jazz – take care!" She remembered what she'd seen on the television and added, "Good luck with helping those two people."

He waved for his small group to follow him then disappeared into the helicopter rental office to request delivery of all four people. The gentleman behind the desk in the rental office spoke fluent French, making it easy for Conner to give directions then pay for the airfare…

Cooper and his group were told to wait until a pilot was called in. He turned to his friends and said, "Keep your fingers crossed, gang. Hopefully we'll make it in enough time that nothing will have happened to them."

Next came the voice of reason. "This could be a coincidence on the television. I doubt it's anyone we know in the middle of that mess." He may have lacked suspenders now but in the end, some things didn't change for him. Fear of running into a hot zone was one of those things he retained from his earlier days.

Conner frowned. "That's just it, Winthrop… "I have to be sure… I have the money to waist on this helicopter trip… let's just go take a look and we'll figure things out from there, okay?"

"This is getting old," he murmured in defeat. "I seriously don't want to head into an area that's in the middle of a warzone, right now."

"Then hang back and let the professionals do the work," replied Conner with a smirk. "Don't get in our way and we won't bother you, pal."

"Conner's right," said Dawn. "If the two people in that place are the twins… we could never live with ourselves, knowing we let them down. It's obvious that whoever is in that house right now…. They need us."

Karla placed paws upon her hips. "Well be in public. It'll be difficult to stay low when on camera."

"Then let's get this show on the road," said Dawn, looking about with a shrug. "Worst comes to worst, we'll give'em a SHOW all right."

"Quite so. I have a strong gut feeling about this – I'm ready to blow stuff up, if need be." Conner turned to the counter and began signing a contract while they waited for their pilot. The young team was charged with energy, ready to head to a random, small town on a hunch just to see if their friends were in danger. At the very least, Conner was resolved to help the situation in order to know he did something good again, after all those years of dormancy.

A/N: Okay, so Conner and the gang have NO IDEA who is at that little warehouse but they're HOPING that it's BOTH Tiikeri sisters. Now, we the reader know that it's only ONE of the sisters, and some other person. I've ended it on a high note, ready to go into battle. That just means we all know what to expect of the next chapter… The battle!

Conner is finally that much closer to getting his team assembled. Now he has to do some more training to get his body back into shape. Penelope appears to have a rapid solution. I THOUGHT I was being original but it turns out that the electrified acupuncture idea is VERY POPULAR in the Middle East, right now. I found out AFTER writing that part of the chapter. My friend's boyfriend is in Iraq right now. She told me that he was injured and that he received Electrified Acupuncture as a treatment, there. So, I researched it… turns out it's popular. So much for feeling original, huh? Kinda' like how I wrote that story back in 2002 about a character named Reno Nevada who was, against his will, endowed with the powers of wielding electricity… then last year Sucker Punch comes out with Infamous. SCREW YOU, COLE! I INVENTED YOU FIRST, stupid not-mine character! BLEH! Lol.

Anyhow, one of the reviewers asked if I was making Conner like Cole from Infamous. No, I'm making him like Reno from MY story, back in 2002, but without the gypsies, the sapling from the fruit of the tree of the Knowledge Of Good And Evil, the third-eye hex, getting struck by lightning, and being a beat cop beforehand. Funny how that works, huh? But I tried to give it a good spin as to why it would happen for Conner! I also wrote this chapter a few days ago… and only now do I get the chance to post it! Now to write the next one.

We're getting close to the end of the story, then I'll wrap up Reflections of Marcus McCloud, Spy Cooper, The Curse, Claws of Fate, and by the end of the year I'll start rewriting my original stories. Don't worry, I'll post them on FictionPress dot com, FanFiction's sister site. I'll also put time into finishing Reflections of Fox McCloud, continuing the Sly Cooper holiday short stories, Nothing Passed Tomorrow and the Crossover Bandwagon story of Doom, and… all that other stuff. Lol. Reflections of Peppy, yeah… all of it. Lol.

But I promised myself I'll put more time and energy into my originals by the end of the year. Michael Crichton was published at 26. Chris Paolini, way too young. I'm STILL jealous, lol. HE will be 26 this November. I'm dyin' here! I wanna be published, too! Lmao. Paolini was born in California, Crichton DIED in California… I've never BEEN to California… but I have some friends who live there! xD

However! Crichton was from Ilinois, Paolini graduated highschool through some sort of program located in Ilinois… and I HAVE been to Ilinois, so… YEAH! I'm ALMOST THERE, BABY! Ahem. Don't mind me, I'm in a hyper mood tonight.

Don't underestimate me, muwahaha. I've got Nora Roberts' blouse, even though it's creepy that I have a 58 year old's blouse, and I bet her husband, Bruce, could care less. xD

How I obtained it is a LONG story involving one of Nora's house parties in Silver Spring. She does this thing where she likes to come up with random fun events for her fellow writer buddies at her house parties… like, for example, "LET'S DO A CLOTHING SWAP! EVERYONE SWAP CLOTHES!" or, something like, "First one to jump in the pool and skinny dip gets a… (random object?)"

What the hell am I going to do with Nora's blouse? It's like… black inner layer, and red-and-white paisley outer layer. Nora, if you're reading this… JD ROBB is the bomb, yo'! Go fightin' Irish! Can you help me get published, lady? Can you give me Amy's number? PLEASE! Ahem. Hey, I have writing discipline, too! I spend half my work shift at my desk writing… for the last SEVERAL jobs. I've spent my divorce in front of my laptop, writing… I'm even lying in bed right now… writing! xD Nora, give me a chance – give me your agent's number! Lol. Hey, I tried – right guys?

Btw, did I tell you guys that Refletions of the Future surpassed 32k hits? I'm floored. It's only 90 thousand words. I finished it in 90 days time, back in 2005. It STILL gets a TON of hits, almost four years later. THANK you.

Okay, I'll hush now – like I said I was in a hyper mood so I'm just… rambling! P-sout!

-me