( A/N Once again I want to thank everyone for reading and my reviewers. If
you guys didn't review I probably would stop writing this. I think this is
my favorite chapter so far and hope you like it too)
*-*-*-*-*
"Max knocked timidly on the door, "Can I come in," he asked peaking his head into the room. "You guys missed a call. It was Dylan." The room went silent and everyone looked up from what they were doing to stare at the teenager.
"Dylan called? And you didn't tell us," asked Alex.
"Yeah, well I didn't take the call I saw the light flashing on the machine when I came out of the bathroom and listened to it. That was okay, right," asked Max feeling like he was under a microscope.
The angels, FBI agents, and Bosley looked at each other and ran down the stairs. Natalie was the first at the machine. "Well," said Alex urging her friend on, "hit the button let's hear it."
"I can't," said Natalie sadly.
"Why not," asked Mitchum walking over to the machine.
"The tape was erased," replied the blonde looking at Max. Then they all turned and looked at the boy.
"I'm sorry," said Max embarrassed at his mistake. The group glared at him.
"Great," said Mitchum throwing up his hands, "Just great. You know kid I should toss you in jail for obstructing justice." He stepped towards Max and took out his handcuffs.
"W-wait," said Max with his hand up in a fending off position. "I remember what she said."
"What did she say," inquired Alex.
"Give me a second, okay. It was strange and didn't make much sense. Um..something about WTC 930 and Tom Petty."
"Tom Petty," asked Daniels. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty," replied Max.
"WTC 930," repeated Natalie. "WTC 930"
"World Trade Center," suggested Bosley.
"Maybe but 930,"said Mitchum sitting on the arm of the couch. "Is it a time and if so morning or evening and which day?"
"No," cried Alex, "930 is the day. Its tomorrow, but I don't get the whole World Trade Center idea. It doesn't make sense that something is going to happen at a building that isn't standing anymore."
Just then Max saw the day's paper, folded, untouched laying on coffee table with a headline that read "World Trade Conference Opens Tomorrow in Chicago." "Uh guys," said Max picking up the paper and unfolding it.
"And Tom Petty? It can't be Tom Petty. I mean yeah, he hasn't produced anything good in awhile but why kill him," asked Natalie.
"Guys," said Max again trying to get their attention.
"I think we should focus on what we do have the World Trade Center, tomorrow. We could scout it, keep our eyes open in the area.." said Mitchum until Max cut him off with, "YOU GUYS!"
They finally acknowledged the boy who was holding the paper up in front of him. "How about this World Trade CONFERENCE thing going on tomorrow?" Natalie rushed over and gave him a big hug and took the paper from his hands.
"This is it," she cried happily bouncing around, "This is what Dylan was talking about. Something is going to be happening at this conference." Mitchum, Bosley and Alex all gathered around her looking at the newspaper. No one noticed that Daniels had slipped away.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony looked at Dylan's unconscious form lying on the bed. He checked her bonds on her hands and feet making sure they were secure and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. Jorge had hit her hard with the vase, enough to cause bleeding. Anthony had noticed the blood as he carried her into the room, running down the back of her neck. He laid her carefully on the bed, tied her up, removed the hideous black wig, and took care of the cut. It wasn't deep but it was a bleeder.
He walked over and looked at his own face in the mirror. She had hit him good in the hallway, his tooth had cut his lip and it was a bit swollen from the impact of her fist but it could but covered up if need be. Then Dylan moaned. He turned and watched her slowly open her eyes. She tried to move her arms but he had tied them securely one to each bed post. Then she spotted Anthony watching her. "You!"
He walked over to try to calm her down. Struggling wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Don't touch me," she yelled. He put his finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet. "I am not going to be quiet. I'll scream if I feel like it." Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. "I might be tied up for now but I'll get out of here and stop you from assassinating Getty," she went on. This time he made a vocal "Shhh," sound. "I should have known not to trust you. Once an assass." he shoved the handkerchief in her mouth. Dylan continued to complain although the sound was muffled. He wanted to tell her not to worry but he didn't have the chance; the door opened and Vivian entered being pushed by one agent Gloria Matthews. Dylan's eyes went wide at the sight.
"Well, Well," said Vivian. "Look at what I have, my very own angel. How nice to see you again Dylan." The angels glanced between Vivian, Anthony and Agent Matthews. "Imagine my surprise when the Chief came to me and told me how lucky I was. You look more surprised to see Gloria than you were to see me. Gloria told me that it was just dumb luck that you got involved. Isn't that right Gloria?"
Seeing the two women together allowed Dylan to make the connection that she had been missing. "Anthony, be a dear and un-gag her. I'd like to hear what she has to say," said Vivian to her on-again associate. He leaned over and removed the cloth from her mouth, shook it out and placed it neatly back in the breast pocket of his jacket. "You're sisters," said Dylan.
The two women looked at each other and then the angel tied up on the bed. "Yes," said Gloria bluntly. "We are. I was surprised you didn't notice a family resemblance when I helped you get ready."
"Seeing the obvious was never Dylan's strong point was it Dylan," said Vivian. "How long did it take you to realize Eric Knox was actually John McCadden and he wanted to kill your boss? You slept with him and still didn't realize the truth until he told you."
"It was Mitchum's idea to involve you in this. I didn't think a thing of it because I truly didn't believe you would make it though the contest last night. If you didn't make it we didn't have to worry, the agent who tried out, 'the Vulture' was on our side."
"Then why didn't you turn me in right away to the Chief," asked Dylan confused.
"I didn't know you had won and once I found out I wasn't able to contact Vivian. This place isn't exactly listed in the phone book. I managed to tear myself away from Mitchum and come up here in person only to find you got yourself caught. To me you seemed like such a bright girl." Dylan struggled with the ropes while Gloria continued, "What a wasted trip."
"Yes but the fact she is here is an added benefit," said Vivian. "I can not only have Getty eliminated but rid the world of the angels."
"We did nothing to you," said Dylan furiously.
"I hold you all partially responsible for my 'accident'," she replied icily, self-consciously touching her good hand to her face.
"That was McCadden. He fired the missile. You chose to join him in trying to kill Charlie. Maybe you got what you deserved."
"Perhaps, but I think you might be getting what you deserve as well. Rest Dylan, you earned this job and you will be the one to carry it out; the lone gun man in the book repository." With that Gloria wheeled her sister out of the room, but before she left she turned her head and said to Anthony, "make sure she doesn't escape."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan glared angrily at Anthony from her still tied position on the bed not saying a word. He stood by the window looking out watching the sunset that turned the sky an orange similar to the color of Dylan's hair. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke penetrating deep in his lungs, holding until he couldn't any longer, and then he slowly exhaled. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge; his eyes never leaving hers. Looking at her made him think about that night on the roof. He had shoved it out of his mind but being so close to her made him think of it again, the feel of her velvet lips against his.
Dylan watched Anthony stand by the window looking outside. She wondered what was going though his mind. She wondered when he was going to get his orders to kill her, if he hadn't already. She hated him, no she corrected herself, the problem was she didn't hate him. She saw him turn and walk towards her and sit on the edge of the bed. He was looking at her so intently, so purposefully, that she felt discomfited. She couldn't look away and as he moved closer she recognized the look in his eyes, she had seen it once before. Her pulse sped up as she prepared for his inevitable kiss.
A light knock at the door brought them back to reality. Anthony got up and answered the door it was the maid with a tray of food and a bottle of wine. "Your dinner, Sir," she said with a curtsey then left. He shut the door and placed the tray of food on the vanity. He lifted the silver lid of the tray and saw that the evening meal was pork medallions in white wine sauce, steamed broccoli and a baked potato. He sat on the vanity bench and spread the napkin over his lap.
Across the room Dylan's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. Anthony stopped and turned to look at her. "I am so sorry my growling stomach is disturbing your meal," she said. He picked up the tray and brought it over to the bed and placed it carefully on the night table. "Oh so eating in the same room wasn't enough you have to eat in front of me." Anthony went on ignoring her remarks and cut a bite size piece off one of the medallions, and held it out to her. She shook her head 'no'. He set the fork on the edge of the plate and wrote, "You have to eat something."
"I'm not hungry," she said defiantly but she was once again betrayed by her stomach. Anthony rolled his eyes and tried not to smile.
"Please," he wrote and held the fork out to her again. Dylan gave in to the delicious aroma of the pork and opened her mouth and closed it around the tender morsel. "Mmmm," she said chewing then started to cough as she started to choke. Anthony quickly unbound one of her arms and helped her sit up, patting her on the back. "Thanks," she said as he handed her the goblet of wine.
Anthony dipped into the potato and held the bite out to her. "I can feed myself," said Dylan. He took the piece and put it in his own mouth. He knew very well she could feed herself but he didn't want her to eat all of it and he didn't trust her with the utensils. Last thing she needed was a knife. As they sat in companionable silence they each wondered if the other was enjoying the time together as much as they were. Dylan hated to break the silence but it had to be said, "I have to go to the ladies room."
He arched and eyebrow. "I really have to go. I promise I won't try to escape," she said adjusting on the bed trying to lessen the pressure on her bladder. He stood and went into the bathroom and made sure there were no sharp objects or ways to escape. Too bad Dylan was quicker than he was. Before he returned she managed to untie her other arm and hop into position. As he exited the bathroom she hit him over the head with a heavy candlestick knocking him unconscious. She untied her ankles and tied him with the same rope he used on her. "So I lied," she said stepping over his form and going into the bathroom to relieve her discomfort.
She snuck silently down the hall ducking out of sight as Jorge made his hourly security check of the house. As she crept down the stairs and past the office in which she had re-met Vivian Woods, she heard voices laughing and talking. "Are you serious," said Vivian, "this is much better than I expected. I not only can get rid of Getty but that angel and Anthony."
The Chief responded in a puzzled tone, "But I thought you were glad to be working with him again."
"Glad? Ha! He should have been in that blaze not me. Don't worry though, after Chicago he will wish he had been."
Dylan hesitated and thought of the unconscious man upstairs. Anthony was as much a pawn in Vivian's game as anyone, but she couldn't help either him or herself if she didn't get out of the house and she wasn't quite sure where his loyalties laid or if he had any at all. She moved quietly approaching the door and reached for the knob. She never heard the man on the other side. As she opened it she found herself looking down the barrel of Agent Daniels' gun.
*-*-*-*-*
"Max knocked timidly on the door, "Can I come in," he asked peaking his head into the room. "You guys missed a call. It was Dylan." The room went silent and everyone looked up from what they were doing to stare at the teenager.
"Dylan called? And you didn't tell us," asked Alex.
"Yeah, well I didn't take the call I saw the light flashing on the machine when I came out of the bathroom and listened to it. That was okay, right," asked Max feeling like he was under a microscope.
The angels, FBI agents, and Bosley looked at each other and ran down the stairs. Natalie was the first at the machine. "Well," said Alex urging her friend on, "hit the button let's hear it."
"I can't," said Natalie sadly.
"Why not," asked Mitchum walking over to the machine.
"The tape was erased," replied the blonde looking at Max. Then they all turned and looked at the boy.
"I'm sorry," said Max embarrassed at his mistake. The group glared at him.
"Great," said Mitchum throwing up his hands, "Just great. You know kid I should toss you in jail for obstructing justice." He stepped towards Max and took out his handcuffs.
"W-wait," said Max with his hand up in a fending off position. "I remember what she said."
"What did she say," inquired Alex.
"Give me a second, okay. It was strange and didn't make much sense. Um..something about WTC 930 and Tom Petty."
"Tom Petty," asked Daniels. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty," replied Max.
"WTC 930," repeated Natalie. "WTC 930"
"World Trade Center," suggested Bosley.
"Maybe but 930,"said Mitchum sitting on the arm of the couch. "Is it a time and if so morning or evening and which day?"
"No," cried Alex, "930 is the day. Its tomorrow, but I don't get the whole World Trade Center idea. It doesn't make sense that something is going to happen at a building that isn't standing anymore."
Just then Max saw the day's paper, folded, untouched laying on coffee table with a headline that read "World Trade Conference Opens Tomorrow in Chicago." "Uh guys," said Max picking up the paper and unfolding it.
"And Tom Petty? It can't be Tom Petty. I mean yeah, he hasn't produced anything good in awhile but why kill him," asked Natalie.
"Guys," said Max again trying to get their attention.
"I think we should focus on what we do have the World Trade Center, tomorrow. We could scout it, keep our eyes open in the area.." said Mitchum until Max cut him off with, "YOU GUYS!"
They finally acknowledged the boy who was holding the paper up in front of him. "How about this World Trade CONFERENCE thing going on tomorrow?" Natalie rushed over and gave him a big hug and took the paper from his hands.
"This is it," she cried happily bouncing around, "This is what Dylan was talking about. Something is going to be happening at this conference." Mitchum, Bosley and Alex all gathered around her looking at the newspaper. No one noticed that Daniels had slipped away.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony looked at Dylan's unconscious form lying on the bed. He checked her bonds on her hands and feet making sure they were secure and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. Jorge had hit her hard with the vase, enough to cause bleeding. Anthony had noticed the blood as he carried her into the room, running down the back of her neck. He laid her carefully on the bed, tied her up, removed the hideous black wig, and took care of the cut. It wasn't deep but it was a bleeder.
He walked over and looked at his own face in the mirror. She had hit him good in the hallway, his tooth had cut his lip and it was a bit swollen from the impact of her fist but it could but covered up if need be. Then Dylan moaned. He turned and watched her slowly open her eyes. She tried to move her arms but he had tied them securely one to each bed post. Then she spotted Anthony watching her. "You!"
He walked over to try to calm her down. Struggling wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Don't touch me," she yelled. He put his finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet. "I am not going to be quiet. I'll scream if I feel like it." Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. "I might be tied up for now but I'll get out of here and stop you from assassinating Getty," she went on. This time he made a vocal "Shhh," sound. "I should have known not to trust you. Once an assass." he shoved the handkerchief in her mouth. Dylan continued to complain although the sound was muffled. He wanted to tell her not to worry but he didn't have the chance; the door opened and Vivian entered being pushed by one agent Gloria Matthews. Dylan's eyes went wide at the sight.
"Well, Well," said Vivian. "Look at what I have, my very own angel. How nice to see you again Dylan." The angels glanced between Vivian, Anthony and Agent Matthews. "Imagine my surprise when the Chief came to me and told me how lucky I was. You look more surprised to see Gloria than you were to see me. Gloria told me that it was just dumb luck that you got involved. Isn't that right Gloria?"
Seeing the two women together allowed Dylan to make the connection that she had been missing. "Anthony, be a dear and un-gag her. I'd like to hear what she has to say," said Vivian to her on-again associate. He leaned over and removed the cloth from her mouth, shook it out and placed it neatly back in the breast pocket of his jacket. "You're sisters," said Dylan.
The two women looked at each other and then the angel tied up on the bed. "Yes," said Gloria bluntly. "We are. I was surprised you didn't notice a family resemblance when I helped you get ready."
"Seeing the obvious was never Dylan's strong point was it Dylan," said Vivian. "How long did it take you to realize Eric Knox was actually John McCadden and he wanted to kill your boss? You slept with him and still didn't realize the truth until he told you."
"It was Mitchum's idea to involve you in this. I didn't think a thing of it because I truly didn't believe you would make it though the contest last night. If you didn't make it we didn't have to worry, the agent who tried out, 'the Vulture' was on our side."
"Then why didn't you turn me in right away to the Chief," asked Dylan confused.
"I didn't know you had won and once I found out I wasn't able to contact Vivian. This place isn't exactly listed in the phone book. I managed to tear myself away from Mitchum and come up here in person only to find you got yourself caught. To me you seemed like such a bright girl." Dylan struggled with the ropes while Gloria continued, "What a wasted trip."
"Yes but the fact she is here is an added benefit," said Vivian. "I can not only have Getty eliminated but rid the world of the angels."
"We did nothing to you," said Dylan furiously.
"I hold you all partially responsible for my 'accident'," she replied icily, self-consciously touching her good hand to her face.
"That was McCadden. He fired the missile. You chose to join him in trying to kill Charlie. Maybe you got what you deserved."
"Perhaps, but I think you might be getting what you deserve as well. Rest Dylan, you earned this job and you will be the one to carry it out; the lone gun man in the book repository." With that Gloria wheeled her sister out of the room, but before she left she turned her head and said to Anthony, "make sure she doesn't escape."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan glared angrily at Anthony from her still tied position on the bed not saying a word. He stood by the window looking out watching the sunset that turned the sky an orange similar to the color of Dylan's hair. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke penetrating deep in his lungs, holding until he couldn't any longer, and then he slowly exhaled. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge; his eyes never leaving hers. Looking at her made him think about that night on the roof. He had shoved it out of his mind but being so close to her made him think of it again, the feel of her velvet lips against his.
Dylan watched Anthony stand by the window looking outside. She wondered what was going though his mind. She wondered when he was going to get his orders to kill her, if he hadn't already. She hated him, no she corrected herself, the problem was she didn't hate him. She saw him turn and walk towards her and sit on the edge of the bed. He was looking at her so intently, so purposefully, that she felt discomfited. She couldn't look away and as he moved closer she recognized the look in his eyes, she had seen it once before. Her pulse sped up as she prepared for his inevitable kiss.
A light knock at the door brought them back to reality. Anthony got up and answered the door it was the maid with a tray of food and a bottle of wine. "Your dinner, Sir," she said with a curtsey then left. He shut the door and placed the tray of food on the vanity. He lifted the silver lid of the tray and saw that the evening meal was pork medallions in white wine sauce, steamed broccoli and a baked potato. He sat on the vanity bench and spread the napkin over his lap.
Across the room Dylan's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. Anthony stopped and turned to look at her. "I am so sorry my growling stomach is disturbing your meal," she said. He picked up the tray and brought it over to the bed and placed it carefully on the night table. "Oh so eating in the same room wasn't enough you have to eat in front of me." Anthony went on ignoring her remarks and cut a bite size piece off one of the medallions, and held it out to her. She shook her head 'no'. He set the fork on the edge of the plate and wrote, "You have to eat something."
"I'm not hungry," she said defiantly but she was once again betrayed by her stomach. Anthony rolled his eyes and tried not to smile.
"Please," he wrote and held the fork out to her again. Dylan gave in to the delicious aroma of the pork and opened her mouth and closed it around the tender morsel. "Mmmm," she said chewing then started to cough as she started to choke. Anthony quickly unbound one of her arms and helped her sit up, patting her on the back. "Thanks," she said as he handed her the goblet of wine.
Anthony dipped into the potato and held the bite out to her. "I can feed myself," said Dylan. He took the piece and put it in his own mouth. He knew very well she could feed herself but he didn't want her to eat all of it and he didn't trust her with the utensils. Last thing she needed was a knife. As they sat in companionable silence they each wondered if the other was enjoying the time together as much as they were. Dylan hated to break the silence but it had to be said, "I have to go to the ladies room."
He arched and eyebrow. "I really have to go. I promise I won't try to escape," she said adjusting on the bed trying to lessen the pressure on her bladder. He stood and went into the bathroom and made sure there were no sharp objects or ways to escape. Too bad Dylan was quicker than he was. Before he returned she managed to untie her other arm and hop into position. As he exited the bathroom she hit him over the head with a heavy candlestick knocking him unconscious. She untied her ankles and tied him with the same rope he used on her. "So I lied," she said stepping over his form and going into the bathroom to relieve her discomfort.
She snuck silently down the hall ducking out of sight as Jorge made his hourly security check of the house. As she crept down the stairs and past the office in which she had re-met Vivian Woods, she heard voices laughing and talking. "Are you serious," said Vivian, "this is much better than I expected. I not only can get rid of Getty but that angel and Anthony."
The Chief responded in a puzzled tone, "But I thought you were glad to be working with him again."
"Glad? Ha! He should have been in that blaze not me. Don't worry though, after Chicago he will wish he had been."
Dylan hesitated and thought of the unconscious man upstairs. Anthony was as much a pawn in Vivian's game as anyone, but she couldn't help either him or herself if she didn't get out of the house and she wasn't quite sure where his loyalties laid or if he had any at all. She moved quietly approaching the door and reached for the knob. She never heard the man on the other side. As she opened it she found herself looking down the barrel of Agent Daniels' gun.