Chapter One

'Looking at this file . . .' Lucas began.

'Yeah?' Veronica asked. She was driving, and in the current rainy conditions had to concentrate on the road.

'It would make sense not to limit our inquiries to the girl alone.'

'Duh.' She overtook a particularly badly driven lorry, and pulled back into lane. 'Who else you got in mind?'

'The obvious possibility would be the arresting officer.' He was tapping keys, and she heard the faint beeping of his satellite hookup. 'Kate Lockley. Currently...' He paused, and then. 'On indefinite suspension without pay. Undergoing psychiatric evaluation. Has been since about five months ago. Apparently she'd gained an obsession with what this report calls 'unusual crimes', but no mention of mutant involvement.'

'We got a home address for her?' The turnoff sign loomed through the rain, and she jerked the wheel over hard. Lucas picked up his laptop from the footwell and started tapping keys.

'And phone number.' He pronounced. 'We can call her when we get to the motel, try and see her first thing tomorrow.'

'No rush, Luke.' His partner pointed out. 'It's not like the girl's going anywhere.'

On the other side of the continent . . .

In fact, in Westchester County, New York State, at Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters.

Scott Summers finished reading and looked up at his mentor.

'Beta class?' He suggested.

'It looks that way.' The Professor agreed. 'Do you think she's worth investigating?'

'Well, it sounds as if she'd be a useful addition to the team. On the other hand, if she really did commit these crimes it seems unlikely that she'd fit in to the school. An eighteen-year-old convict . . .'

'Is exactly what Remy would be if we hadn't got to him before the police did.'

'Remy is a thief. This girl claims to be a murderer.'

'True. And I suspect that she was also telling the truth. I also believe that killers are made, not born. A mutant in the correctional system will not receive the attention necessary to rehabilitate her, while a mutant here . . .'

'A human in prison isn't much better off, Professor. Why should she get special treatment from us?'

'To make sure that she does not get special treatment from them. Styker may be dead, but his legacy lives on, and we can't afford to let someone like this fall into the wrong hands. I've already made a few calls.' He passed a long and complicated legal document across to Scott. 'This is a pardon, signed by the Governor of California. It's a forgery, but with a little help and some counterfeit identification it should be enough to get her released. It would be best if you could persuade her to come to the school before having her freed.'

'But?'

'As you pointed out, she might well prove a disruptive influence.'

*Like Jubilee and Bobby aren't* Scott found himself thinking, and quickly shot a glance to the other man's face to see if he had picked up on that. It appeared he had not; he was still talking oblivious.

'Therefore I think the final decision should be left with you. Go to Los Angeles and talk with her, perform an on-the-spot evaluation. My contact will keep the FBI from reaching her until late tomorrow.'

'You want me to go alone?'

'No, but I'm honestly not sure who you should take with you. Not Logan, if that's what you're thinking; he's hardly likely to pass as a government agent. And not Bobby, either; I honestly can't imagine the consequences of sending him in to a women's prison, but I am certain the experience would be anything but beneficial.' Scott had to smile at that. He also now had a good idea where the Professor was headed.

'Remy has proved he can convince as much older than he really is. He's also undeniably charming, and has a lot in common with this girl. If he can be persuaded to tone down that atrocious accent of his, he'd probably be perfect for this mission.' Xavier nodded, as if this wasn't what he'd been leading up to.

'You can brief him in flight.' He said, and then slid a false ID across the desk. 'Here's a card for Remy.' Scott stood.

'Tell him to meet me at the hangar.' He said, and Xavier, eyes closed, simply nodded.

Kate Lockley had been politely unhelpful. She was clearly deeply resentful at the system of which she was no longer a part. However, she had told them that the full story could be best obtained by interviewing a local private investigator named Angel. He could be found, she told them, at a disused hotel, called the Hyperion. She even gave them his phone number.

The phone was picked up by the most English-sounding Englishman Veronica had ever talked to. She had managed to avoid making any mention of her job and aims, while asking for directions to the place.

She had scribbled down the instructions in her usual massive, untidy scrawl, and Lucas was having an extremely difficult time deciphering them. Veronica, sat beside him, had managed to strip down her gun into a newspaper held on her lap, and was now rebuilding it.

'You think it's dangerous.' He said.

'No.'

'Then why?'

'English people make me nervous.' She told him, snapping pieces back into position.

'He can't really be English.' He pointed out.

'Why not?'

'How would a British citizen qualify for a licence in California?'

'He could be naturalised.'

'He moves to California.' Lucas sounded slightly amused. 'He stays long enough to qualify for American citizenship, by which time he's still young enough to join an appropriate law enforcement department. Then he retires, and sets up as a private investigator, earning enough money to buy himself a disused hotel. In all this time, he has not picked up the faintest trace of normal speech patterns?'

She slid the magazine home, and racked the weapon's slide. For some reason she always insisted on carrying it cocked. He wasn't going to argue; she was better with a gun than he was, and he'd been considered no slouch back in the Corps.

Scott had landed the blackbird with the maximum of discretion, nearly thirty miles from their destination. They were met by a tired-looking man with greying hair, who handed over the key to a rental car and said as little as possible. No introductions were made on either side; Scott locked down the Blackbird, and then insisted that Remy drive them to the prison, as he'd been up most of the night piloting.

Remy was not happy about this; he never felt comfortable in a suit, Scott had made him go back and shave for a second time that morning, and every time he pushed the vehicle above sixty-five the other man woke up and ordered him to slow down. It didn't help that he'd missed the faculty's annual Monty Python movie marathon night to come on this mission. Also, being anywhere near prisons made him edgy.

After twenty minutes he asked who it was had met them.

'Mutant Underground.' Scott replied, and turned his head sideways, appearing to be asleep behind his visor.

When they arrived they presented themselves and their credentials as Special Agent William Holland and Special Agent Avery Broussard, both of the FBI, and were granted access to the girl.

Seven o'clock in the morning. What do you want to do today?

Faith's morning began like any other; get up with the lights, shower, breakfast, all maintaining her carefully intimidating air that, coupled with her reputation, discouraged anyone from coming within fifteen feet of her, then back to her cell where she planned to practice tai chi chuan until lunch.

After a couple of hours, the guards turned up and announced that the feds wanted to talk to her.

The two guys shown into the meeting room looked almost like a birthday present; both were tall, lean and gorgeous. They were dressed identically, in black suits and wrap-around shades, but otherwise were quite dissimilar. Spook one had short brown hair and the shoulders of a body builder. His jaw line was grim, his bearing stern. He stood and moved like a soldier. His shades, incongruously, had red lenses. His companion was slimmer, built wiry, and with a narrow, beautiful face of indeterminate ethnicity framed by dark red-brown hair that was almost – but not quite – long enough for a ponytail. Even standing still, he looked like he was dancing. He also looked a lot younger than his companion, barely into his twenties at the oldest. When he saw her he gave her a charming smile. Faith scowled back. She didn't feel like being charmed.

'Agent Holland, and this is agent Broussard.' The older man told her, then, despite the shades, managed an extremely forceful glare at the guards beside her, who both got up and left.

'So... what do you guys want?' Holland placed a file on the table, and then opened it. He removed a single sheet of paper, and held it out to her. Faith snatched it from his hands and glanced at it.

It was a coroner's report on Alan Finch.

As the piece of paper dropped from her hand, Holland spoke up.

'A sharpened wooden object, just under two inches thick, forced cleanly through the breastbone in a single powerful movement. If you really did kill this man, as well as Professor Worth, you must be exceptionally strong.' She looked up at them. He had removed two more documents from the file, and now held them up for her to see. They looked like complicated medical reports. Her name appeared at the top of both. 'In one week you made a complete physical recovery from injuries that should have been absolutely impossible to heal. It appears that you are a remarkably gifted young woman, Miss Wilkins.'

'Yeah?' She answered. 'Is this the part where you tell me you represent the most covert anti-terrorist task force in the world?'

Broussard leaned forward, and took off his shades. Behind them, his eyes were glowing red dots in pools of blackness. Even with that, he was beautiful, and the more so when he smiled.

''S funny you should say dat.' He told her.

The lobby of Angel Investigations was large, impressive – and empty.

'Hello?' Veronica called. There was a faint sound from upstairs, as of someone running barefoot over a threadbare carpet. Lucas dropped a hand to rest on his hip, just above his gun butt.

'May I help you?' The speaker looked as if he had just emerged from the basement. A little above average height, lean built and casually, but neatly, dressed, probably the most noticeable thing about him was his accent – every bit as English as Veronica had described.

Moving his hand away from his gun, the big agent pulled instead his badge.

'Agent Bishop, and this is Agent Sawyer. Are you the owner of the agency?'

'Wesley Wyndham-Price. No, but I'm in charge. It's complicated.' He smiled, slightly nervously. 'If you're looking for Angel I'm afraid he's on sabbatical.'

'Maybe you can help us.' Bishop continued, ignoring Wesley's proffered hand. 'We're investigating a girl named Faith Wilkins.' They could see the Briton's expression slam closed.

'I'm afraid I don't know anything really helpful...' He began.

'I think you do.' Veronica interrupted from just behind him. He turned. 'According to the report filed just after her arrest she confessed to the assault, kidnap and torture of one W.W. Price, referred to by her as 'Wes'. Unfortunately, 'Wes' refused to give evidence or even a statement, and she was not charged.'

'I really don't see what interest . . .'

'How strong is she, Price.' Bishop rumbled, and the smaller man once again turned around.

'Stronger than you.' He said quietly, before cutting himself off abruptly.

'And her healing?'

'I really don't see what interest this is of yours, unless she's taken it into her head to escape.'

'And if we told you she had?'

'Then I'd be inclined to be a little more forthcoming, but she hasn't.'

They couldn't get any more out of him.

Faith asked for some time to think. The two mutants had given her the full pitch on the school, with Remy adding far more detail than Scott would have approved. As soon as they were alone he turned on the other man and demanded,

'What did you tell her all that for?'

'De p'tite has a right to know what she getting' into, ne?'

'And enough with the accent. Remy, you offered her a place. Without consulting me.'

'You were going to take her. Remy, he could tell that de moment she came in.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'Summers, you never been able to resist dat kind of look. Faith, she look like something died inside.' Off the older man's look, he added, 'It worked for me.'

'You're right.' Scott conceded. 'I think the school would be the best place for her. But it's her choice, and suddenly she knows enough to make her refusing a really bad idea for us.'

'She ain't de talkative type.' Scott looked at him for a moment, and then glanced up as Faith was led back into the room.

'I still say I'm not a mutant.' She told them.

'It doesn't matter.' Scott told her. 'We've got several nonmutants at the school already, although all of them have mutant relatives.' Siblings, to be exact.

'So you want to give me a free education, a place to stay, no strings attached.'

'On a probationary status. Faith, I appreciate that you're probably a reformed character, but one violent incident – just one – and your feet won't touch the floor on the way out, I promise you that.'

'What's in it for you?'

'De pleasure of your company?' Suggested Remy.

'I asked the same thing, once.' Scott overrode him. 'In my case, I ended up teaching at the institute and serving on the field team, and that's what the Professor got from me. From most of his pupils, though?' She was staring at him. 'Charles Xavier is perhaps the single most remarkable man it has ever been my privilege to meet. He is a true philanthropist, and he genuinely wants only to help people. Meaning you and me. As to what I get out of it? I don't know yet.'

Faith looked from one man to the other.

'Wasn't it a mutant tried to kill the President a couple months back?'

'Wasn't it a white guy shot the President, back in 1963?' Replied Scott. 'Does that mean you have a problem with white people?' She laughed.

'Okay, I deserved that. I've been thinking I'd do more good out there than in here, anyway.'

Early afternoon. Wesley would not have come back to the Hyperion, except that he had needed to check a reference in one of Angel's volumes. His research finished, he descended the stairs to find FBI Agent Sawyer was back.

'Have you discovered some cunning new argument?' He inquired, looking down at the young woman – about his own age, slim, trim and pretty, with short black hair and a worried expression. She looked back up at him. 'I see you decided to leave the more intimidating face of government harassment behind.' He went on.

'He's doing paperwork at the prison.' She responded. 'At around half past eleven this morning two men with fake names, fake FBI ID and a fake pardon walked out of California State Women's Penitentiary accompanied by one Faith Wilkins. She'd been released into their custody, and the paper trail for that is already a dead end. We need to know who took her, and why, and we need to know fast.'

Wesley already had his cellphone in his hand. Descending the stairs he hit the speed dial button.

'I'll call the rest of the team.' He told her. 'I need everything you've got on the two men who took her.'

'Cyclops and Gambit report that she's accompanying them.' Xavier told Lucas over the phone.

'Sawyer is going to investigate.' He was told. 'I can't stonewall too obviously.'

'Do you have any suggestions?'

'She is open-minded. It might be best to simply . . .'

'No. The more people know our secrets, the more we have to fear.'

'Very well. But left to herself, she may at the very least discover my links to the Mutant Underground.'

'For the moment, that's a risk you'll have to take, Bishop.'