Note: Guess what?! Since all the characters in the chapter belong to us anyway, we don't have to post a disclaimer! Then why am I posting one? BECAUSE I CAN! Anyway, enjoy chapter five. (And watch out for the German guy).

Chapter 5: The Operative

            Grey rain fell in a steady drizzle on the darkened bricks of the Minuen Capitol Building when the black panther walked in. He strode with the easy confidence of one who belongs in such places, but engendered no notice as he passed by security. They barely glanced at him, either taking his presence as par for the course, or not even noticing him at all. He had an air of anonymity about him, and the eyes seemed to skip over his features on their own accord. He took the first elevator up, crammed in with six other people. They were all wearing expensive business suits with their hair neatly brushed, and he, with his rumpled T-shirt and jeans, should have stood out and attracted notice, yet did not.

            The man traveled to the very top of the building before disembarking, nodding to the security guard standing watch, a banded Tabby cat who was unfortunate enough in life to be named Zawkmed. The guard smiled and nodded in return, obviously recognizing this stranger. He walked to the front desk and rapped lightly on it to catch the attention of the young secretary, who was talking on the phone while filling out some form or other. She glanced up at him with annoyed expression, which faded immediately as she saw who it was.

            "Hold on a moment, Marge. Business calls." She put the phone down and smiled brightly up at him. "Well hello, stranger. Long time no see. What can I do for you?"

            He smiled back warmly. "Hello, Mina. Is Mister Slater in his office?"

            She rolled her eyes. "Is he ever anywhere else?"

            "May I go in and talk to him?"

            "Honey, you know you're always welcome. You can go in anytime. Besides, its not like he's in the middle of something, or anything." Her brow furrowed. "At least, I don't think he is. At any rate, go on ahead." She waved him forward.

            He nodded and sent another smile her way. Ah, Mina. The eternally clueless. He knocked politely on the rich mahogany door before opening it and respectfully entering. The tall bobcat sitting behind the massive desk was poring over a pile of papers intently by the light of one small office lamp, clearly too involved in what he was doing to notice or care about the darkness. He glanced up sharply at the sudden illumination from the door, but his expression relaxed immediately when he saw the shape of the silhouette, and he broke into a broad smile.

            "Ah, Marcus. You've returned."

            The panther made a touch of a bow. "As quickly as I could, Mister Slater."

            "Excellent. All went well with the mission?"

            A brief surge of annoyance washed through him. "Of course. I sent a message through Alec. Did he not…?"

            "No, he delivered it. I was just confirming the fact for myself." Warren Slater chuckled self-consciously. "Just a picayune eccentricity in myself, I'm afraid; this need to double-check." He looked down at the stack of work in front of him, and then pushed it away with a tired sigh. "I'm glad you're here. To be honest, I was about ready to set all these tax commission forms into a cheerful conflagration if I had to look at one more of them tonight. I wasn't made for the tedious tasks of life, I believe, but someone has to do them." He blinked ruefully at the pile. "And when I assumed office, I became that someone." 

            Marcus nodded with a genial look. "But surely there's no reason to do them in the dark," he said and calmly walked to turn on the overhead fixtures. They both blinked in the sudden brightness. "There. Much better. You'll ruin your eyes if you work in such dim light all the time."

            Dryly. "I'm touched by your concern." Warren shook his head and got down to business. "I do not wish to inconvenience you, my friend, but if you are not too fatigued by your journey and…activities, I would like your opinion on certain matters of state."

            The other inclined his head graciously. "Of course. I would be glad to review anything you wish." He followed the bobcat to the desk and looked with curiosity as Warren shuffled through the massive pile of papers. At last he drew a small sheaf out of the hoard.

            "Ah. Here it is." He unfolded the top piece into a quickly massive schematic of a space jet. "I've been going over the cost prediction for the new I-83 and I think there's a problem in the numbers somewhere. There is simply no possible way that the machine could be so expensive to produce on a regular basis." He paused and looked at the design for a moment. "God, she is a majesty, though, isn't she? Nowhere nearly as advanced as the aircraft the Lylat System have access to, of course, but far more appreciative in aesthetic design; to my mind at least. And, with fortune, we will soon be able to exorcise the few shortcomings she does have."

            "Beautiful," Marcus agreed, but he seemed to pay scant attention to the word. Instead, he had already turned his mind to the other papers, which recorded in precise detail every spent and projected cost the project entailed, running them through his mind looking for the error. "Ah. I think I see it." He pointed to one of the lines. "The landing gear alone is massively overpriced. It looks like a mathematical error to me. A simple miscarry in the digits can add or subtract thousands, or even millions of credits."

            Warren followed the panther's pointing figure with his eyes. "Ah. I see. I'll check on that in the morning, to be sure. I…"

            The door swung open and bumped against the far wall. "Hey, Warren, I wanted to ask you…" Alec Secorsky stopped dead to stare at the man by his commander's shoulder. "Oh. You're here."

            Warren rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "How many times must I ask you to knock first, Alec, before it finally sinks in?"

            "Well, I didn't exactly think you'd be doing something private…"

            "That's not the point! It's a security breach for one, and its common courtesy for another."

            "Well, that explains why I haven't figured it out yet, then." His umber eyes slid to Marcus again and he turned his head away. "I just needed to tell you that The Weirdo is here again, checking up on his 'invention.'"

             Marcus frowned at him in mild disapproval. "Doctor Bellec has a name, you know, Alec."

            "Yeah. The Weirdo. At any rate, he's demanding to see Warren, me, you, the gardener, the cook…I don't know; anyone who'll listen to him rant, and he's getting more steamed up by the minute. I'm thinking we should humor him and go down there."

            Warren straightened and tugged his shirt straight. "All right. Let's see what he wants." He walked past Alec, with Marcus at his heels, and the aggravated serval was forced to hold the door for both of them. He sneered at the black panther as he passed by. Marcus pretended not to notice. As Alec closed the door behind them and turned to follow, Warren paused and looked back at him. "Oh, and Alec? We can do without the pointed remarks and attitude. That behavior's beneath you." And with those words he turned and swept down the hall, as regal as a king, his entourage of one faithfully following. Alec stared after them and grimaced.

            "Since when," he muttered, and hurried to catch up.

            Dr. Bellec was a short fisher cat with a gaunt, drawn face and a pair of overly sized coke-bottle glasses perched on the end of his nose. They magnified his owlish eyes to such an extant that they seemed to take up his whole head. He was standing at the front desk on the ground floor, arguing with the security guard on duty.

            "I don't CARE if he's busy! I vant to speak with Warren Slater at once! Do you understand vhat at once means, you neanderthal ignoramus? It means move out of my vay before I retract my agreement to join on this project!"

            The guard, the unfortunate Zawkmed again, tried to reason with him. "Look, I'm sorry, Dr. Bellec, but Mr. Slater is in a meeting. I'll be sure to tell him that you're here just as soon as he's available…"

            The doctor rolled his eyes in exasperated churlishness. "Vhy do they always brush me off on the hired help? Let me make something vividly clear to your little peanut brain. If I do not get to go see Slater at once, I vill leave zis building. And I vill never step into it again with my experiments. Understand that, Zawky?!"

            Zawkmed bristled at the hated nickname. "Now wait just a minute…!"

            "It's alright, Zawkmed. I'm here."  Warren walked up to the weasel and nodded formally to him. "What can I do for you, Dr. Bellec?"

            Zachariah Bellec turned and tugged his shirt into place forcefully, looking superiorly at the newcomers.  "Finally," he declared ungraciously. "I knew I'd have to come here personally to get your attention. You have ignored my e-mails vith a blitheness that I find frankly offensive."

            "I'm sorry if we have caused you any inconvenience, doctor…" The doctor opened his mouth in affront once again. Warren spoke right over him. "But I am here now and willing to listen to whatever grievances you wish to air." Not letting the fisher get started again he looked rather pointedly around the reception area. "Perhaps someplace a little more private would be more suitable, however. Shall we continue this discussion in my office?"

            "Ve most certainly vill." The white lab coat flared dramatically as he stalked towards the elevator. Alec was in his way, but he didn't slow down or alter his course. The grimace on the weasel's face spoke volumes about his temperament at the moment and the glare he shot the serval would have melted glacial ice. Alec hastily stepped out of the way and allowed the doctor to barrel past him to the elevator. There Bellec turned to survey them, peering over his massive glasses, his foot tapping irritably. "Vell? Are you coming?!"

            Alec shook his head. "Can't we just shoot him and do the world a favor?" Marcus looked at him disappointedly and shook his head as he walked by, heading with Warren for the elevator. The blonde sneered back. "Yeah, you're already on my list, pal," he said snarkily.

            The elevator ride commenced in silence. Alec was glaring at Marcus. Doctor Bellec was glaring at Warren. And Warren topped the whole thing off by continually adjusting his tie. It was a great relief to all when the doors pinged open. Once in the office, Zachariah once again turned to the leader of the Minuen people.

            "Now," he bit out. "Ve vill discuss my grant money."

            "Oh, of course," Alec snorted. "I should have known. It's always about the money."

            Warren glared him to silence. "What about it?" he asked.

            "Vell, let me clarify that. Vhat ve will discuss is its lack! Vhen your lackey…" He gestured contemptuously towards Marcus. "…approached me in regards to using my Erida project he promised that the government vould provide funding for my other projects. I handed over my research freely vith zis understanding, and thus far you have withheld the aid that I vas promised! Now if I do not receive what I rightly deserve, zen  I shall withdraw all of my help from zis operation. And let me tell you, wizout my aid and technical know-how you vill be dead in ze water! Project Erida cannot proceed wizout me!!" His words had grown in intensity until the last had been said in a shout. Now Bellec stopped dead to glare around the room in general animosity. Alec broke the silence.

"Well, that was quite a rant. What you deserve, eh? Well in that case, the problem's easy to solve. What I said below…"

            "Alec, please." Marcus glared at him for a second before turning a congenial gaze on the doctor, who was rather out of breath. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you mean when you say the project will sink without you. Could you clarify?"

            The weasel caught his second wind. "My money…"

            "You'll get your money," Warren broke in. "No fear of that. We pay our employees for their services. Now answer his question."

            Bellec humphed over the term employee for a moment, but finally deigned to answer. "As you know the Erida Machine disrupts ze Beta waves, or ze low frequenzy waves in ze mind. Zis causes ze subject targeted by ze machine to become off-centered emotionally, which naturally brings out ze baser, more anger based emotions. Zis condition vould, of course, continue to resonate and increasingly disrupt ze judgment skills of ze target." He paused. "Let me put it in terms zat you can understand. It makes ze people affected become increasingly unable to control zeir more negative emotions until zey at last have a complete breakdown."

            "Department of redundancy department," Alec murmured. "Tell us something we don't know."

            "But why…" Marcus began again.

            The doctor glared at both of them. "You vant to know vhy you need my input still, ja? I'll tell you. Because I built zis machine. I know how it vorks, and at vhat rate. Without my help you vill have no idea how soon to put your plan in motion, vhen ze optimal time vill be to strike, how to set up ze ENTIRE plan! You need me, my compatriots." He spat the word. "So you had better hope zat I do indeed get my money."

            Warren had had enough. He stood up from his chair. "Thank you for that information, Doctor. I'm sure you can find your way out."

            Zachariah actually bristled. "Now vait just a minute! You can't just throw me out…"

            The bobcat smiled humorlessly. "Well that's funny. Because I think I just did." The smile dropped off his face. "The fact is, Bellec, that I won't sit in my own office and be threatened. You'll get your money. We've agreed to that. But for now, I think you had better go."

             "And quickly," Alec added. "Really. We're tired of looking at you." The weasel spluttered for a moment, incoherent with indignation. "Yeah, you do that," the serval said and took the doctor by the arm, firmly leading him away. "Buh-bye now. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Before Bellec could make another protest he had had that door shut firmly in his face. Alec came back dusting off his hands.

            "Honestly, Marcus. Where did you dig up that wacko? Not that I should be surprised, since you did the recruiting, but…"

            "Alec, please." Warren sounded very tired. "Not now." The bobcat turned with a sigh and shuffled the papers on his desk. He paused when he came to the blueprints of the I-83, and then sighed again. "Ah, yes. I wanted to go over the rest of the figures for this and look for errors before I called it a night. Marcus, if you don't mind, would you assist me?"

            "Of course," Marcus agreed with a smile. "Otherwise you'll be here all night. And what would that do to your eyes?"

            The bobcat looked askance at the ceiling for a moment. "Quite," he agreed. "Alec would you excuse us?"

            The blonde looked up. "What?"

            Warren rolled his eyes. "Leave. So that we can commence."

            "And…I can't be in the room for you to stare at a bunch of numbers?"

            "Alec…"

            "All right. All right. I know when I'm not wanted. Which is often around here, I might add." His mouth twisted bitterly at the words. "I don't see why I'm such a burden all of a sudden. You never used to mind…"

            "Mr. Secorsky," Marcus cut in quietly. There was a half smile on his face. "I'm sure no one here wants to step on your toes, but Mr. Slater and I really do have some work to get done." The hint was clear. The smile never wavered.

            Alec stared at him for a long moment. You could have cut the silence with a knife. "Fine," he said finally. "Far be it for me to get in your way." He turned on his heel and strode out.

            Outside the door he paused, waving off the curious glance of the secretary, Mina. He glared holes in the wood of the door, his blood boiling. "One of these days, Cade. You'll eat dirt at my feet." 

***

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