Chapter Five



I



Britt smiled appreciatively as Lenore Case came into his office. Even dressed in a business-like pink Chanel suit and with her red-gold hair piled up into a French twist, she was a pleasure to watch. Paperwork was one his least favorite things to do at the Daily Sentinel, but watching Casey walk into his office was one of his favorites.

Although careful to maintain the appearance of a strictly professional relationship, Casey cared for the big blue-green eyed newspaperman and her return smile showed it. "Mr. Reid, Mr. Scanlon is here to talk to you."

Tossing aside his pen as he leaned back into his chair, Britt answered, "Good, show him in. And Miss Case, please stay."

"Yes, Mr. Reid," she responded.

Britt greeted the D.A., "How are you doing, Frank?"

Scanlon settled into a chair in front of Britt's desk as Miss Case took one near Britt, "Okay, all things considered."

"Did either police officer survive?" Britt asked.

"Only one, the other was dead when the police arrived. Like all the others he was completely drained of blood."

Britt nodded. "I'm sorry about that. How's the surviving officer?"

"Still uncertain, as far as I know. The doctors don't know what kind of shape he'll be in even if he does live. He lost a lot of blood. They're worried about brain damage. And even if the damage isn't as bad as they're worried about, they don't know what kind of mental shape he'll be in. After all being drained of your blood by some kind of freak is mighty traumatic."

Britt grimaced, "Is the current feeling still that the Green Hornet is involved?"

"'fraid so," Scanlon answered, "Nobody got a good look at the attackers you saw. All they really saw was the Green Hornet."

"Bad enough to have every major crime laid at the Green Hornet's doorstep. Now to be blamed for sucking the blood out of cops . . . " Britt shook his head in frustration.

Changing the subject he continued, "Were you able to find anything on that black '68 Plymouth GTX convertible Kato and I saw at that crime scene?" he asked.

"Well, we might have hit pay dirt there."

"Oh? How so?"

Scanlon removed his glasses so he could read the notes from the pad he had pulled from his jacket pocket. "We got a good I.D. from that license plate number you gave me," he prefaced. "The car belongs to a private investigator from L.A. by the name of a Mr. Angel. No first name, just Angel. He meets your description; brown hair, brown eyes, around six foot, 175 more or less."

"Get anything on his reputation in L.A.?" Britt asked.

Scanlon nodded, "I knew you'd want to know, so I checked around with some of my contacts in the L.A. police force. Most of them don't think very much of him. He was involved in something unfortunate with a lady detective. Nobody will talk about it, except she really had it in for him. Then there was a problem with drinking and then she left town very suddenly."

"Doesn't sound good," Britt said thoughtfully.

"Gets worse, or should I say weirder?" Scanlon continued.

"How?"

"He, or rather, his agency, Angel Investigations, has a reputation for dealing with the supernatural. You know, if you're having problems with a demon, you call them for help. Of course that being La La Land, what else would you expect?"

"Except that would tie in with what Kato and I saw," Britt said, "Those were definitely not your normal run of the mill kids. I could almost believe that they were vampires."

Scanlon studied Britt for a few moments. "You sure they weren't wearing masks? They can make them pretty good these days, you know."

Britt shook his head. "I'm positive. Besides I saw these creatures actually in the act of draining the blood from two helpless men. It's not something you can make a mistake seeing." He grew very grim. "I don't think I'll ever forget what I saw," he said with an involuntary shudder. "It's something that haunts your nightmares. What was worse was that kid. He had the face of a choirboy, but his eyes were yellow like a demon's and he had fangs. I can still see his face covered with that officer's blood."

He noticed that Casey had wrapped her arms around herself and that her eyes were shuttered in terror, even though it was second-hand. "I'm sorry, Casey, I didn't mean to be that graphic."

"It's all right," she answered, still looking frightened. "It's just that if it bothers you . . . "

Britt gathered himself. "Do you have a number for that Angel guy?" he asked Scanlon.

"Sure," Frank said. He made a copy of the number in his notes and handed it to Britt.

"Casey," Britt said, as he moved out his chair and pressed on the speaker phone on his desk, "I want you to call this number and find out if this Mr. Angel is here." He thought for a moment, then added, "Ask them if they're involved in a missing persons case."

Casey took his chair. "Missing persons?"

"Yes, ask them if they're looking for a kid. He's about 5'10", 120, 130, medium length brown hair, blue eyes, maybe around 15 or sixteen," he said describing the boy he had seen.

"Blue eyes?" Casey asked, "I thought you said his eyes were yellow."

"Now that you mention it, I think I do remember his eyes changing to blue just before he ran off with the rest of those kids," Britt explained.

"Why do you think they might be looking for him, instead of one of the others? Or looking for anybody at all?" Scanlon asked.

Britt shrugged, "I don't know. Intuition, maybe. I think the others are far too gone along whatever path they're taking. But that boy . . . Despite what I saw, something tells me there's some hope for him yet. Maybe if somebody can get to him in time."

Continuing thoughtfully, Britt said, "The look on that man's face... if he was this Angel fellow . . . there was so much grief . . . like the grief that a man might feel for his son. My gut tells me those two are connected."

While Britt leaned over her shoulder, Casey dialed the number that the D.A. had written down. A woman's voice answered the phone. "Angel Investigations. We help the Helpless. How may I help you? Cordelia Chase speaking."

Casey introduced herself and where she was calling from, then continued, "One of our people at the Daily Sentinel spotted a boy," she explained, then gave the description Britt had given her, "We had word that your agency might be involved in a case involving somebody matching that description."

They could hear Cordelia's barely restrained excitement over the speaker phone. "We certainly have. How is he doing? Do you know where he is?" she asked eagerly.

Casey shot a questioning look at Britt who mouthed a reply then nodded. She said into the phone, "Unfortunately we don't know where he currently is. He was only seen for a few minutes. He does seem to be doing well, but he's mixed in with a bad group of young people."

"Oh, fudge," Cordelia responded unhappily.

"Perhaps if we could talk to Mr. Angel, we might be able to arrange a way for us to be able to help you," Casey suggested.

"He's not here right now. If fact he's in your city right now. I could give you his phone number or I could have him call you."

"Would you be able give me his phone number and where he's staying? That way we can contact him," Casey answered.

Cordelia gave Casey the phone number and the name of the hotel where Angel was staying. Then Casey asked, "Can you tell us anything about the boy's background. Anything that might help us if we happen to see him before we can contact Mr. Angel."

For a few moments there was silence on the other line, finally, reluctantly Cordelia said, "His name is Connor. He's Angel's son. They had a big fight and Connor ran away. Angel is very worried about him. We're all very worried about him," Cordelia admitted, her worry coming plainly across the distance. "We'd really appreciate anything you can do for us."

After saying goodbye, Casey turned to Britt. "No wonder why they are so worried," she said. "I feel sorry for his father. It must be terrible to have your own son run away."

"I'm just wondering about what kind of man this boy's father is," Britt answered thoughtfully as he began to pace, "I wonder if that boy became the way he is when he came here or is does it reflect something else. I wonder what kind of man, or maybe I should say, creature, is this Mr. Angel."

II



Angel headed back to the hotel he was staying at after another fruitless night of searching for Connor and the gang he seemed to be hanging around with. He had searched the area where he had last seen them as thoroughly as he could. Unfortunately the cops were everywhere. The death of one of their men and the maiming of another had made them suspicious of every stranger they saw. The entire city felt like a powder keg ready to go off.

He glanced into his rear view mirror to see a large black car a few car lengths behind him. The car seemed to be keeping at a discreet distance, but he had a feeling it was tailing him. Once in awhile he could spot it under the light of a street lamp as they passed under it, but he couldn't see enough of it to know who it might belong to. It didn't have a light bar on top so it wasn't a police car. All he knew that it was very large and black. The Jamaican's words about the Green Hornet finding him echoed in his memory. He had seen the masked man fight the gang that Connor was with, but he still didn't know how he could be any help in getting Connor back.

Finally the traffic had thinned out so that they were the only cars around. The black car pulled forward then alongside him. The black masked chauffeur motioned for him to pull to the side of the road as the black car started crowding him toward the curb. Perversely, Angel decided he would test the masked man's intentions. He stomped down on the gas, shooting past the black car. The black car responded quickly, easily catching up with him. The driver glanced at him with a small confident smile. Angel pushed his gas pedal all the way down, but the black car easily kept pace with him. In fact it nosed slightly ahead him, showing that it still had plenty of power to go even though his own car was threatening to shake apart if he pushed it any further.

He spotted an intersection ahead. Suddenly he cranked on the wheel, sending his car fish tailing around the corner. Behind him he could hear the black car screech around the corner. Much heavier than his own car, Angel could see it rock dangerously before the driver brought it under control. Angel took another corner dangerously fast. He couldn't see the black car behind him, but he didn't count himself safe yet, knowing that it could reappear at any moment. Not sure that he could head for the hotel yet, he headed for the opposite part of town. He would have to find another place to spend the day until the sun had safely set.

After another hour of not seeing the black car, Angel decided to look for a place to stay. Unfortunately he was in a largely residential area with only a few scattered hotels that promised to be very pricey. However, he decided, at this point any refuge from the sun would be well worth the cost. Suddenly out of nowhere the big black car reappeared, heading straight for him. Angel jerked his car out of the way, sending it off the road and into a shallow ditch.

His face changing into vampire mode, Angel leaped out of his convertible, charging at the two masked men as they stepped out of their car. With a banshee cry, the black clad chauffeur met his attack. Angel dodged the man's flying leap, spun and side-kicked him. The chauffeur quickly recovered, turning his fall into a somersault that landed both of his feet in Angel's chest. Angel fell to the ground, rolled and pushed himself off toward the chauffeur, who dancingly sidestepped his charge. Angel blocked the man's chop toward his stomach, and tried to return it, but found his own blow quickly blocked. He tried again, only to find all of his jabs quickly repulsed, and that he was hard pressed to prevent any of his opponent's moves from making it through his defense. He was entirely on the defensive now.

Suddenly he felt something wet splash against his arm. It burned like acid. The chauffeur quickly took advantage and sent him to the ground with a powerful blow. Angel desperately tried to take off his damp shirt. Beneath it his flesh was sizzling painfully. Panting in pain, he barely noticed that the chauffeur had pulled back. The tall man was watching him grimly as he placed a stopper into a clear glass bottle.

"The priest thought I was kidding when I told him I needed some holy water to fight a vampire," the man said. "That's what you are, aren't you?"

Angel nodded. Once rid of the shirt, the pain in his arm was starting to ease. "Yeah, I am," he admitted. "I take it you're the Green Hornet."

The Green Hornet nodded, "I am. I hear that you go by the name of Angel."

"That's my name," Angel replied. "What do you want?" he asked.

"What's your connection with that gang of vampires? That is what they are, aren't they?"

"That's none of your business," Angel bit out.

"Anything that happens in my city is my business," the Green Hornet snapped, "Especially when innocent people are being attacked by vicious monsters, and more especially since I'm being blamed for it."

Beyond the Green Hornet's car Angel could see the first rays of dawn. The Green Hornet noticed his gaze. "It's going to be morning soon," he said. "If the business about the holy water is true, I'm willing to bet that the sun is not going to do you a whole hell of a lot of good."

Gritting his teeth angrily, Angel remained stubbornly silent.

"We have all the time in the world," the Green Hornet said smoothly. "In fact I always enjoy the sunshine. Do you?"

"All right," Angel finally said, "We'll talk. Inside."

The Green Hornet glanced at Angel's car, "Can't imagine what would lead a man in your, ah, condition to drive a convertible."

"I guess I like taking risks," Angel replied.

The Green Hornet shrugged. "Looks like you're going to need a tow truck."

"Looks like it," Angel agreed.

"We'll talk in my car," the Green Hornet said, leading the way to the Black Beauty.

Angel noticed that the chauffeur had taken position behind him. He was more of a guard than an escort.

Once in the car, the Green Hornet asked, "Just how sensitive to the sun are you?"

"I can't take direct sun," Angel said. " Filtered light is tolerable, deep shade is better. During the day I prefer to stay inside with the shades closed. And before you ask, no, I don't spend the day sleeping in a coffin filled with dirt."

"I see, so do you drink blood?"

"Yes," Angel admitted reluctantly, "I have to. I can't live without it."

"Human blood?"

"No, animal blood, usually pigs' blood."

"Why not human? What makes you different? Or is that a choice all vampires can make?"

"It's a long story. Too long and involved to explain right now," Angel answered. Ahead of them he noticed uncomfortably that the sky was starting to turn pink with the rising sun. Even in a fully enclosed black car he was not relishing the coming of morning.

"We'll be at a place soon where you'll be able to spend the day safely," the Green Hornet said, noticing Angel's growing unease. "Until then I still have questions I want answers to. Like those kids. I asked you about them before, and I'm asking you again. What's your connection to them?"

"They have my son," Angel answered, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Your son? That's the one that wasn't as . . . as deformed as the others, right?"

"Yes."

"Then is he a vampire too?"

"I don't know. It's complicated," Angel replied.

The Green Hornet frowned. "Everything appears complicated with you or involves a long story. How about you give me the short form?"

"Vampires are only created by another vampire. It's the whole undead thing. I'm 246 years old myself," Angel explained. "Being undead, vampires cannot have children. At least that's what everybody has always believed."

"But . . . " the Green Hornet pressed.

"That boy you saw is my true son. His mother was a vampire as well. That's supposed to be impossible."

"And yet he exists," the Green Hornet said.

"Yes. There was a prophecy about him, and he was kidnaped by somebody I thought was my friend. My son spent his childhood in a demon dimension raised by a madman who loathes vampires, especially me," Angel continued. "When he finally reappeared, all he wanted to do was kill me. That's changed, at least I think so. But I always thought, or maybe, I always prayed, that he had not been tainted by his vampire parentage. Now I see that it was a foolish hope."

"And now you're trying to bring him back home?"

"I hope that will be possible."

"And if it's not?"

"I may have to destroy him," Angel answered, his heart breaking.



III

While Angel was searching the city, Connor and Constance were watching an old apartment building burn. Although they were high on the roof of a neighboring building, they were so close that Connor could feel the heat on his face. Constance's eyes were bright in the reflected firelight.

"I always love fire," she said in an awed whisper. "It is so primal. It is the most powerful of all the forces of the universe. It cleanses everything it touches. Man thinks he has harnessed it, but he is fooling himself. It is always waiting. Always waiting for a chance to break free and destroy those who are foolish enough to try to contain it."

Constance leaned against Connor, remembering, "My father was the first one I took. I still remember the look on his face when he tried to hit me and I attacked him. I don't know whether he was more surprised that I resisted him, or that I had turned vampire. I can still taste his blood. It was so sweet and hot.

"The lamp had turned over and there were flames everywhere. I wanted to dance with those flames, but they wouldn't let me play with them." She paused. For a few moments the image of the house where she had sent a childhood of shame superimposed itself over the city spread out before them. Then she continued, "The air outside was so cold and the ground was so damp under my feet. I could hear my sister and mother screaming from inside. Then it was all over. Nothing was left but clean ashes. Everybody said it was so sad. That my father had been a good man. I left the next day and never went back."

A murmuring crowd had gathered in front of the building. People who had lived in it were crying for their lost homes and possessions as the firemen went about their business pouring water over the flames that licked at the building's dark brick.

A woman still dressed in a white waitress uniform burst through the crowd screaming, "David! David! Has anybody seen my husband?"

A policeman held her back before she could run into the building. "You don't understand. He's in there. He's in there with my baby. Oh my God," she cried out collapsing in the officer's arms. "My baby, my baby. Somebody do something! Save them," she pleaded with sobbing breaths.

The shapes of two men emerged out of the smoke that belched from the black hole of the apartment building's doorway. One of them was a fireman, looking like a knight of old, dressed in a heavy coat, helmet and breathing mask. He was supporting a man in ash-covered clothes, whose face was so sooted that it was impossible to tell if he was white or black. In his arms was a small blanket-covered shape.

The woman tore away from the policeman's grasp, "David!" she screamed as she ran to the man.

He wearily knelt to the ground releasing his burden. Dreamily, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, a small boy pulled himself out of the blanket. "Mommy, Mommy," he cried reaching for his mother.

Together the small family huddled in each other's arms, protectively enveloping the little boy away from the night's terror. Behind them the building collapsed into itself. This night, at least, Fire had failed to claim a human life.

Constance studied Connor's face. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"You said that the world is filled with monsters. Maybe, but maybe it's also filled with heroes," he answered thoughtfully. "That man risked his life to save his son. Those fireman were risking their lives for absolute strangers. There's a lot of evil around us, but maybe there is also a lot of good too."

Constance angrily rounded on Connor. "And do you honestly think you could be a hero?" she said bitterly. "Why do you think your old man hides in the shadows? For all the times he has saved this worthless ball of crap, those people down there, those people who you feel so much sympathy for would feed him to the fire if they knew him for what he really is. And they would do that to you too. Hell, what do you think your precious father will do when he finds out your true nature? Will he understand or will he try to destroy you?"

Connor shook his head. He remembered Gunn's reaction. Could any of them ever feel they could trust him? Could Fred? Could Angel?

"Why do you want to be so much like them, anway?" Constance asked. "You can be the greatest vampire in the world. You can be immortal. You can live forever, never growing old, never feeling the aches and pains of old age. The lives of those people down there are as brief as mayflies compared to us. We are the superior beings. All humankind are our prey. As it should be. Don't you understand?" she asked. "You're the Chosen One. That's why they all want to kill you. Even your father. He knows, they know, that if you're not stopped, you will rule the world. That is what they fear. Do you want to throw all that away just so you can try to fit in? You can't. You never will. They won't let you."

She clasped his face in her hands, searching his eyes. "Connor, I love you," she breathed as her face changed. "Join me," she whispered huskily as her lips met his.

Their passion spent, Constance and Connor walked arm and arm back to the lair. They looked nothing more than a pair of teenagers in love. Connor still wasn't sure what this was all leading up to. Constance made him forget his worries and his shame, but still a voice whispered in the back of his head. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, it was always there. Constance's presence most of the time could distract him, but not always. The voice said that there was something terribly wrong. Something that was horribly evil.

Constance leaned against his shoulder with a soft sigh, "Anything wrong?" she asked.

Connor shook his head. "No," he lied.

Ahead of them another man and woman were walking. The heavy set man was in his late 50's and was dressed in rumpled clothes and a battered hat. He was carrying a red gas can in his right hand. The woman, much younger than him, was trimly dressed in a pair of dress slacks and a light jacket. "Mike," she was saying, "I can't see how you managed to run out of gas."

"I'm sorry, Casey. I was meaning to get some gas, but when I got the word about the fire . . . "

Casey laughed. "Mike, you old war horse, what am I going to do with you?"

Mike shook his head. "I dunno, Casey, but don't tell Britt, will'ya? He wanted me to drive you home from the Sentinel so you'd be safe. And here I am dragging you through downtown looking for a gas station. What with those murders going on, Britt'd kill me if anything happened to you."

He paused and turned around with a puzzled frown. There was no one behind them. "Strange. I thought I heard somebody behind us."

Casey shook her head, as puzzled as he was. "I thought I did too," she said looking down the street.

"Oh, well," Mike sighed. "Maybe they went into one of them buildings."

"Maybe," Casey said unsurely.

Mike shrugged. "I think I see the lights from a 7-11 up ahead, maybe they'll have some gas pumps."

"I hope so," Casey answered, "and Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we call a taxi?"

Mike gazed at her for a moment, noticing that she seemed disturbed. "Sure," he replied.



"What's going on?" Connor asked Constance as they watched Mike and Casey from the shadows of a nearby doorway.

"That woman, she's the one," Constance answered.

"She is?"

"Yes, her aura practically glows. I've never seen one so white and pure. She's perfect."

"Constance, you're not making any sense. What's an aura?" he asked.

"It's something that everybody has. It kind of reflects your life force. Most people can't see them, but I can."

"Do I have one?" he asked.

"Sure."

"What is it like?"

Constance tilted her head studying him. "It's a very nice bright one," she said, "It shows that you're healthy, strong, and, oh yeah, destined for greatness."

"Greatness," Connor said wryly, "Right . . . "

"No kiddin'," she answered, "Someday, maybe soon, you will be great."

Connor shook his head. "I'll believe it when I see it," he said.

"You will," Constance said confidently. She did not mention that in his aura the light warred with the dark. If it was up to her, the dark would win.

Constance looked at the thin claw of the moon overhead. It was so sharp that it could have made the thin shreds of clouds that whispered across it bleed. She gave him a secretive smile, "It's almost the dark of the moon. She's the one we need to make you the greatest vampire this world has ever seen." She folded her arms into Connor's. "C'mon, let's get back. I have some work for Kyle to do."



Connor and Constance found a gloomy pall hanging over the garage when they returned. Castor and Pollux were glumly watching the TV while Chelsea was in a world of her own, listening fixedly to the music blaring through the earphones that covered her ears. Hunched over a laptop computer, Kyle sat crossed legged on a flat mattress on the floor.

Constance walked directly over to Kyle and crouched down beside him. "You're just the man I'm looking for," she said.

Kyle looked up at her, "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to help me find somebody," she replied.

Castor and Pollux turned at the sound her voice and rose from the couch. Castor was taking the lead, but only because Pollux was pressing him forward. "Uh, Constance, we got to talk to you," he began.

"Can't it wait?" she asked sharply.

He shook his head, "No, it can't. Me and Pollux. We're going to leave."

"What?" Constance demanded.

"Things have gotten way out of hand. It was one thing if we took a bum or two once in a while, but now we're dealing with the cops, and worse, the Green Hornet. We can't handle that. We're splitting," he answered. Behind him Pollux nodded emphatically.

"Are you guys nuts? What did you think being a vampire involved? Milk and cookies?"

Castor shrugged uncomfortably, "I don't know. We didn't really want to hurt anybody. It's just that Pollux was dying from AIDS and that was the only way I could think of saving his life."

Pollux nodded, "And I sired Castor because I couldn't face living forever all alone."

"I can't believe it," Constance said, "You guys are vampires. You know, the living dead. You're supposed to be demons. You're supposed to be evil. How can you two be such big wimps?"

"I don't know," Castor answered miserably. "Maybe we just aren't cut out to be vampires."

"So what are you planning to do about it? Do you think it's as simple as turning in your Union card?"

"Jeez, Constance."

"Look guys, being a vampire is permanent until you get dusted. There's no other way out."

"Yeah, like Pike did," Chelsea added as she strode toward them.

"That's another thing," Pollux answered, "I thought that vampires were supposed to be real tough and nearly impossible to kill."

"Is that your problem?" Chelsea sneered, "You afraid to die?"

Pollux hung his head. "Yeah," he answered very softly.

Disgusted, Chelsea shook her head. "Talk about jellyfish. Pike was an idiot. Hell, he ran right into that stick. If he'd have used his head, he would've taken that guy."

Castor angrily rebutted, "I didn't see you doing so hot either."

"Yeah, at least I was fighting. Not hiding in the corner like you two. Ooohh," she said, opening her eyes wide while biting her knuckles, "Somebody save me. I'm sooo scared."

"Stop it, all of you!" Constance demanded angrily. "We're supposed to be a team here."

Chelsea snorted. "I didn't see you or Wonder Boy, here, pitching in either," she snapped back.

"Leave Connor out it," Constance warned.

"She's right. I should have fought," Conner broke in. " Pike would still be alive if I had. I'm the only experienced fighter here."

"Oh? And you think you're so special?" Chelsea sneered.

"I grew up fighting demons and monsters," he replied. "It takes a lot more than strength to fight somebody, especially those two. You called them Green Hornet and Kato?"

Chelsea nodded and shrugged.

"They are very skillful, experienced fighters. Especially the one in black. They're different from the drunks you have been killing. That was slaughter. Those men are warriors. You have to know how to fight if you want to defeat them," Connor explained.

"So if you're this big, tough fighter, why didn't you join in?" Chelsea demanded.

"Because I wouldn't let him," Constance said evenly through clenched teeth. "If you don't remember, there were carloads of cops coming. And while bullets only annoy you, they would kill him. Once the ceremony is done, Connor will be invincible and we, all of us, will be able to take whoever and whatever we want. And we won't have to worry about two mere mortals who hide behind masks and a fast car either."

"When will this ceremony be, anyway?"

"It will be soon as soon as Kyle gets me the information I need."

"What do you need?" Kyle asked, deciding that it was finally safe to say something.

Constance smiled at him. "Connor and I saw a woman while we were heading back here. She's the one we need for the ceremony. But we have to find her first."

"Why didn't you take her then?" Constance asked. "It would've been simpler," she added acidly.

"Because it's not time yet. If we took her too soon, there would be too much time for people to start looking for her. There are people besides this Green Hornet who could stop us if they found out what we were doing," she explained as though she was talking to an idiot child.

"So how are we going to find her?" Chelsea asked.

"Kyle," Constance said, turning to the spike haired young man, "You always said you could hack into anything. Let's see if you can get into the DMV and find out her address."

"Depends on what you got," he answered, already intrigued.

"Okay, the guy we saw kept on calling her Casey. I don't think that's her first name, so it must be her last," she began.

"Case. There's going to be too many in the city to go with just that. Do you have any idea of her first name?"

"No, but the man mentioned the name, Britt and a place called the Sentinel."

"That must be the Daily Sentinel," Kyle said thoughtfully as he connected to the Internet and opened a search page on his computer screen. "I think the boss' name is Britt Reid."

"Maybe she works for him," Constance said. "From the way they were talking, I think she's important to him."

Kyle's right eyebrow rose, "If she is, it's even more important that we don't take her until the last minute. That guy has juice in this city. If you think it's bad now after taking a pair of cops, wait until we take her."

He scrolled through a few pages. "I'm checking the local society news. If she's connected to Reid, she'll probably have been to some kind of party or event with him." He quickly ran through a few more pages. "Damn the guy has a taste for the blondes. Any of them look familiar?" he asked Constance and Connor.

They both shook their heads.

Then another page came up, one of a charity ball earlier in the year. "That's her," Connor said.

"Yeah," Constance agreed. "It says that her name's Lenore Case."

"Good, that gives me enough to work with," Kyle said as he closed that page and began another connection through his computer. "It's going to take me a few minutes to get into the DMV database. But not too long. Their last upgrade was the pits. They got security holes all over the place," he explained as a series of numbers and prompts came up on his screen. Finally he had what they wanted. "Here she is, Lenore Case," he said, then read off an address. "She's several blocks from here, but I think we can manage. I know a lot where we can 'borrow' a car and have it back before they even know it's gone."