~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once Darien finally managed to lose Hobbes, after nearly and hour of creative driving, he knew he'd
have to move fast. His first stop was the nearest ATM he could find, where he cleared out all but
the minimum balance in his bank accounts. He didn't like carrying around this much cash, but it
would only be for a short time. He knew a place where he could stash it in relative safety.
Hopefully this would all be settled within just a few days. More than that and he'd be going off
the deep end anyway. Then the real hunt would begin, and he didn't think he'd be getting out of
another situation like that one alive. In truth he didn't want to. If he couldn't cut a deal to
solve this problem with someone, anyone, he'd find some way to end it. A bullet, a long fall off a
cliff...hell, stepping into traffic. Any would work just fine.
Getting back in his car, he drove off again. He wanted to be
someplace different when he made the calls, plus he wanted no part of the couple of guys who'd
watched him withdraw all the money and were surely contemplating trying to part him from it, by
force if necessary. Once he was sure they hadn't hopped into a car and followed him, he headed
towards the beach, figuring he could lose himself in the crowd and maybe find a small amount of
peace. A few short moments when he wasn't hating almost everything around him, including himself.
Sitting down on some of the rocks overlooking the water, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed
the first of the two numbers he'd gotten from the Agency computer the day before. The person he was
hoping for picked up. Once the shock had worn off and several suspicious questions were asked and
answered, a meeting was arranged for later that day.
Then he made a second call, and had just as much success, though there were a few more questions
this time.
After he put his phone away, he looked out over the water for a while longer. Was he truly serious
about this? Was he really so far gone, so desperate for his freedom, that he'd continue this course?
Yes.
He'd told Claire the truth. He wanted out, one way or another. The few things he still cared about
were not enough compensation for being a virtual slave in a job he hated, surrounded by people who
cared more for him as a tool than as a human being. All the good things he had done were cancelled
out by the bad, the evil, the things caused by the madness. The things that everyone else seemed to
look the other way about. That the Official would cover up, to protect his 'investment.'
He would be the first to admit that the role of the good brother had been filled by Kevin. Darien
had always been the troublemaker, the one getting suspended from school, the one getting picked up
for throwing eggs on Halloween, for breaking into the school to steal the answers to the finals,
for breaking into homes to steal whatever he could fence, for molesting the elderly.
The little good he'd done in the last year or so could not change the facts. The real truth was
that he hadn't wanted to change. He wanted to be a thief. Was forced into being an agent. He'd
never been overly fond of other people controlling his life, and now he had more people watching
his every move than when he'd been in prison. That's how it felt, anyway.
Getting to his feet, he made his way back to his car. He still had time to kill before the first
meeting, and he had a few things to take care of.
A couple of hours later he was sitting on picnic table, waiting as patiently as he could. He did
his best not to think about what he was doing, the risk he was taking, but in the end he realized
it didn't matter. Even if she set him up, the end result would be the same. He'd have what he
wanted: the gland would be gone. A voice spoke from somewhere behind him.
"Mr. Fawkes?"
Darien turned to see Doctor Elizabeth Rendell standing about ten feet away from him. One hand was
stuffed into the pocket of her ankle length coat, and there was a look of fear and terror on her
face.
"Relax, doc. I'm here to offer you something you want." It was obvious even to him that it was a
gun she was clutching
white-knuckled in that pocket.
"What could you possibly have that I might want?" Her voice shook only slightly as she spoke.
"You mean you don't need me to fix Arnaud?" Darien said in a bored tone. Yeah, he was willing to
trade to get what he wanted.
She snorted in derision. "And you're offering this out of the kindness of your heart, I'm sure. Cut
the crap. What do you want?" Her disbelief had given her some measure of courage.
"Simple. I'll help you fix Arnaud. You remove the gland." Darien watched for her reaction.
She shook her head as if unsure that she had heard him correctly. "You'll submit to testing and a
PET scan if I'll remove the gland?" She took a step closer to him. "But I don't know how to remove
it safely."
Darien laughed bitterly. "I don't care. Talk to 'Arnie.' I'm sure he'd be more than willing."
"Tell me about it," she muttered. "Mr. Fawkes, no matter what you may think of me, I am still a
doctor and can't condone doing something that would surely kill you."
"Don't start spewing that holier-than-thou doctor crap with me. You are still playing footsie with
a known terrorist. You kidnapped me not that long ago, watched Arnaud attack me two weeks ago
without helping, so don't you dare start taking the high road now." Darien got to his feet and she
backed up a step, once again afraid. "Talk to Arnaud." He pulled out a small business card.
"Contact me here this time tomorrow with your decision." He set the card on the table and then
walked away.
Once Darien was out of sight, she moved to the table and picked up the card.
Darien didn't even bother looking back to see what she would do. He had his next meeting to deal
with, and this one was going to be a lot more dangerous. He grabbed something to eat and then
headed out to the local mall. After window shopping for about twenty minutes, he found a seat near
the huge fountain in the middle of the building.
There were people swirling all around him. People who looked like they had something to live for,
even if it was no more than going home to argue with their spouse about the bills. He'd love to
have someone to argue with over something as mundane as the bills. To have concerns that did not
involve saving the free world from itself on a regular basis. He would much rather be scraping
together the last of his funds to buy a meal, and casing a place so that he might have money for
his next.
All these people around him who had no idea what really happened, what really went on to make sure
they had the freedom to spend a day wasting their last paycheck at the mall. He truly wished he was
still just as ignorant as they. Still as blissfully happy with his existence.
As he watched, a couple walked by hand in hand, looking disgustingly contented with one another and
their lives. What he wouldn't give to just be able to hold someone he cared about, without having to
risk seeing them hurt because of what he'd gotten involved in.
He found himself cursing his brother Kevin again. Most of his life he had wanted to earn Kevin's
trust, Kevin's respect. He had never succeeded, as far as he was concerned. For an instant the
image of Kevin dying in his arms flashed through his mind, but he shoved it aside. Instead he saw
the lab book where Kevin had written his final note to him, his learned opinion that having the
gland had made Darien a better man. How little Kevin had bothered to learn while he had the chance
to. Being forced to play the do-gooder did not make him a better man. Being trained to sit and take
his shots like a good boy did not make him a better man. Taking orders he knew would get him killed
from someone who blackmailed him with his sanity did not make him a better man.
At this point, it made him a tired, desperate, hopeless man, willing to risk just about anything to
gain his freedom from those who had taken it away.
The spot he'd been staring at on the floor was suddenly occupied by a pair of expensive black
leather shoes, and Darien slowly raised his head to see Stark standing before him.
"Fawkes, what's to stop me from having you killed right now?" Stark had such a smug look on his
face that Darien was tempted to just slap it right off. What, really, did he have to lose?
"Perhaps all the simple people swirling about us." Darien answered calmly. He was pretty sure Stark
wouldn't try anything here. Glancing about, he spotted five of Stark's goons who had taken up
positions about the area. There were probably even more he could not see.
"You're learning. Slowly, but you are learning." Stark gave him a slight smile. "You called me;
what is it you want this time?"
"Nothing much. I want the gland removed and thought you might be willing to do it for me." Darien
was not in the mood to banter and parry with the man.
Stark laughed. "And why would I want to walk into so obvious a trap?"
Darien shook his head. "No trap. No tricks. Not this time." He reached in his pocket for a card
and held it out to Stark. "Think about it. You want the gland. I don't." He got to his feet and
Stark held his ground.
Reaching out to take the card, Stark said, "Why should I trust you?"
"Trust? When was this ever about trust? Wants and needs is all it's about. Do what you need to do.
Follow me. Check up on me. Whatever. When you make a decision, call." He pointed to the card Stark
held. Darien didn't bother to wait for an answer or comment, and simply walked away.
Stark watched Darien's retreating back with mixed emotions. Out of the crowd a half dozen men
appeared around him. "Check out what's going on at the Agency."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hobbes and Claire stood before the Official, who was frowning at them. "So you let him get away?"
"I didn't *let* him do anything. Some of my training obviously stuck." Hobbes collapsed into one of
the chairs, feeling tired. Ever since the Kevin thing, Fawkes had been nothing like himself. Bobby
had hoped, truly hoped, that Fawkes would understand, would see that it had been for the best, but
that hadn't happened. Instead he had sunk deeper into despair and depression, and there had been
nothing Bobby could do to help him.
"Well, find him. I don't need another incident to cover up," the Official said in a bored voice. He
was getting tired of these little rebellions. Maybe another lesson was needed to remind Fawkes who
was in charge here.
"It's not that simple," Claire said quietly. "He's serious this time. We think he's going to look
for someone to take the gland out, and to hell with the consequences."
"He wouldn't. He still wants to live." The Official sounded more like he was trying to convince
himself now.
Bobby shook his head. "No, Chief. He was, is serious this time. And I'm going to need help finding
him."
Something in Bobby's tone of voice convinced him. "All right. Let Eberts know what you need. Try
and keep it to a minimum."
Bobby pushed himself to his feet. "You'll have it in an hour."
With a hand resting lightly on her arm Bobby escorted Claire from the office. Once the door had
shut, the Official turned slightly to look at Eberts. "I think it's time to institute Omega."
"Are you sure sir?" Eberts asked, even as he went to retrieve the necessary file.
"Yes, I'm sure." The Official opened the file Eberts placed before him and, after a moment's
searching, picked up the phone and dialed the number there.
TBC....