This chapter is another with a touch of romance. I should have been doing
other things but I have been on a roll with this story. BTW Ch. 16 is
almost complete. I just need to figure out how to end it.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony set his glass on the bar and exited the hotel. He crossed the street and entered the park. Daniels was sitting on a bench his head in his hands looking at his shoes. The Thin Man took a seat beside of him. They sat in silence for a few minutes then Daniels turned his head slowly and looked at the man who joined him. "I was sick," stated Daniels simply. Anthony simply arched an eyebrow and pulled out his pad and pen. He quickly scribbled a note and handed it to the rogue FBI agent.
"Was he your first?" was written on the paper.
Daniels looked at the man and crumpled the paper. He wondered how the silent assassin knew he had killed Mitchum. "There is no way he could know," he thought to himself as he contemplated the note that the man had given him. No one was around. No one saw him except maybe the bar tender might have noticed that he left the bar immediately after Mitchum did. "No, do you think I haven't shot someone before? I am an FBI agent."
Anthony gave a snort and wrote again. Daniels might have been an agent but still young and fairly green from what he could tell. Green not only from lack of experience but green was the color of his face from what he had done. "You've killed 'bad guys' but have you ever killed a friend?"
Daniels resented the little laugh like snot Anthony gave him. He had half a mind to shoot the assassin right then and there, but if Vivian found out he wouldn't be around too much longer either. "He was trying to stop me- to stop us. He could never understand," said Daniels. Anthony sighed the man was missing the point. It was never easy to kill someone you considered a friend even if you were on opposite sides. Throwing up on your shoes the first time was to be expected. He had done the same thing but he was twenty at the time not a man of Daniel's age. Now the problem was that the FBI agent was dead. That would alert security, make getting to Getty even harder, and put the angels on alert.
Anthony wrote another note, "They are here." Daniels looked at the paper, "Who is here?" The Thin Man could see the realization as it crossed Daniels' face. "The Angels?" Anthony nodded in reply. "I suppose they don't realize that Dylan is dead yet. It's a shame that she jumped, I would have liked to get to know my sister," said Daniels watching the quiet assassin's face for a reaction and finding none. "I'm not heartless. From what I saw of her I liked. I think if the situation had been different." he said fading out. "Anyway," he continued. "Vivian said that they train and work as a team of three. One of them being missing will throw them off right?"
Anthony debated on whether or not to tell the man Dylan was alive. He didn't know why but decided against it. Instead he wrote, "Would make them stronger," on the paper. He justified not telling him Dylan was alive as keeping Daniels on his toes and preventing him from messing things up more than he already did.
Daniels stood and straightened his suit. "I think I'm ready to go back now. You want a drink," he asked. "I'm buying." Anthony shook his head "Suit yourself," said Daniels shrugging. Anthony just sat on the bench and stared across the park at the blue horizon where the sky kissed the lake.
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan, having no luck locating Mitchum headed back upstairs. As she reached the elevator the janitor placed an "out of order" sign on each of them. The older man smiled and said in a Polish accent, "Sorry the inspector comes today. You have to take the stairs. A day early. Always a day early."
She thanked the man and entered the stairwell. She looked upwards at the flights she had to climb and sighed in resignation, "Great, just great," and began her trip up. As she rounded the tenth floor she met Jorge on his way down.
"You!" Yelled the chief's all around, good for everything man and attacked her.
Dylan dodged and ducked his punches. She used the banister to her advantage, to swing upwards and propel herself into his chest. Jorge flew back against the wall with a grunt. "Bitch!"
"No you must have me confused with Vivian," Dylan said as she hit him in the face with the heel of her hand. She could feel the cartilage in his nose give with a large crack. Blood flowed freely down his face. He attacked again, and threw he against the fire door of the 8th floor. She hit her head hard and saw stars briefly swim before her eyes. "Now I know how Sylvester feels," she thought as she defended off his blows switching positions with him. Finally she got the leverage she needed from the windowsill and kicked outwards with both feet slamming him into the door she had hit moments before. He cracked his head on the door handle and slid unconscious to the floor.
Dylan took one last glance and headed back up to the 18th floor. She stopped in the hallway and tried to catch her breath before seeing the other angels, too bad Bosley saw her first. "Where have you been," he asked taking her hand and leading her towards Mitchum's room.
"Looking for Mitchum," she said in between pants. "I have to work out more often," she said to herself.
"Alex already found him," he told her as he opened the door. Alex and Natalie were standing over the body with a two police officers.
"This is our friend Dylan Sanders," said Natalie. "Dylan these are officers Fredrickson and Willis."
"What happened," Dylan asked.
Officer Fredrickson opened his mouth to speak but Alex got in ahead of him. "Someone killed him at close range with a silenced .38. Probably someone our friend Vivian is with."
"We need to keep this low key," said Dylan.
"Why," asked Office Fredrickson, "this is a big deal. An FBI officer killed the day of the WTC in the same hotel and only two floors below Donald Getty."
"It will make it easier to catch who did this if they don't think we are after them," said Natalie.
"I'll have to check with our superior," said Willis. He radioed in and the answer came back as be as discrete as possible. Apparently Charlie had already contacted the appropriate authorities in the Windy City.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony walked up the stairs to his rooms. Jorge had since woken up and gone to his mistress, Vivian. Anthony knew that Mitchum was dead and cops would be there. If he knew that surely the angels were to know as well. He hated trying to guess what they would do, their unpredictability was unsettling. He assumed it had to do with their three distinct personalities but it was still difficult. He went back to the floor the angels' rooms were on and entered a room that the maid was leaving. She assumed that he was the guest who was staying there and didn't say anything. Anthony watched from the doorway the two officers going in and out unseen. The dark haired angel, Alex and the blonde, Natalie left and went to the room down the hall. Dylan was the last one out and shut the door to Mitchum's room for the last time and she spotted him.
Dylan did a double take. She couldn't believe his nerve, standing there watching them and the police. As she approached him he just stood there watching her with his cool blue eyes. "What are you doing," she hissed at him angrily "Did you kill him?". He didn't reply, he just reached out and touched her hair which was pulled back in a ponytail except for the lock he had his hand on. His touch gave her chills and she felt warmth spread through the pit of her stomach. He wound the strand around his fingers. Dylan shivered from the intensity of his stare. "No," she told herself, "No, not until this is over and not then even." "Just one kiss Dylan," the other part of her said, the illogical part, the part that always fell for the bad guys, "It wouldn't hurt."
He tugged lightly on the hair wrapped around his index finger, and Dylan said, "No," firmly. She wasn't in the mood to have her hair ripped from her scalp. He didn't let go, he pulled her close to him and placed his lips firmly over hers. Part of her brain told her to struggle but the illogical part won out. She reached up and pulled his head closer to her. The sound of a door opening caused them to tear apart, and he took the coveted lock as he pushed her away closing the room door in-between them.
"Dylan, what are you doing out here in the hall," asked Natalie as Dylan rubbed the side of her head where the hair was now gone.
Dylan hoped that Natalie didn't notice her flushed face. "Uh, I thought I lost my room key and I was looking for it, but nope here it is." She then took off down the hall towards the stairs, her mind somewhere other than on the case at hand. Natalie stared after her wondering why her friend was acting so oddly.
On her way back to her room she realized he hadn't answered her question. Or maybe he had. After all she doubt he would have kissed her if he had.
Anthony sat on the bed in the strange room. He hadn't meant to kiss her it happened. He needed to get his control back. There was something about her that made him lose it. He knew that killing Getty would allow him to get it back, to reclaim the darkness that he had nurtured and which had protected him through the years. Did he really want to? Was he strong enough to let go of the darkness? He really wondered.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony set his glass on the bar and exited the hotel. He crossed the street and entered the park. Daniels was sitting on a bench his head in his hands looking at his shoes. The Thin Man took a seat beside of him. They sat in silence for a few minutes then Daniels turned his head slowly and looked at the man who joined him. "I was sick," stated Daniels simply. Anthony simply arched an eyebrow and pulled out his pad and pen. He quickly scribbled a note and handed it to the rogue FBI agent.
"Was he your first?" was written on the paper.
Daniels looked at the man and crumpled the paper. He wondered how the silent assassin knew he had killed Mitchum. "There is no way he could know," he thought to himself as he contemplated the note that the man had given him. No one was around. No one saw him except maybe the bar tender might have noticed that he left the bar immediately after Mitchum did. "No, do you think I haven't shot someone before? I am an FBI agent."
Anthony gave a snort and wrote again. Daniels might have been an agent but still young and fairly green from what he could tell. Green not only from lack of experience but green was the color of his face from what he had done. "You've killed 'bad guys' but have you ever killed a friend?"
Daniels resented the little laugh like snot Anthony gave him. He had half a mind to shoot the assassin right then and there, but if Vivian found out he wouldn't be around too much longer either. "He was trying to stop me- to stop us. He could never understand," said Daniels. Anthony sighed the man was missing the point. It was never easy to kill someone you considered a friend even if you were on opposite sides. Throwing up on your shoes the first time was to be expected. He had done the same thing but he was twenty at the time not a man of Daniel's age. Now the problem was that the FBI agent was dead. That would alert security, make getting to Getty even harder, and put the angels on alert.
Anthony wrote another note, "They are here." Daniels looked at the paper, "Who is here?" The Thin Man could see the realization as it crossed Daniels' face. "The Angels?" Anthony nodded in reply. "I suppose they don't realize that Dylan is dead yet. It's a shame that she jumped, I would have liked to get to know my sister," said Daniels watching the quiet assassin's face for a reaction and finding none. "I'm not heartless. From what I saw of her I liked. I think if the situation had been different." he said fading out. "Anyway," he continued. "Vivian said that they train and work as a team of three. One of them being missing will throw them off right?"
Anthony debated on whether or not to tell the man Dylan was alive. He didn't know why but decided against it. Instead he wrote, "Would make them stronger," on the paper. He justified not telling him Dylan was alive as keeping Daniels on his toes and preventing him from messing things up more than he already did.
Daniels stood and straightened his suit. "I think I'm ready to go back now. You want a drink," he asked. "I'm buying." Anthony shook his head "Suit yourself," said Daniels shrugging. Anthony just sat on the bench and stared across the park at the blue horizon where the sky kissed the lake.
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan, having no luck locating Mitchum headed back upstairs. As she reached the elevator the janitor placed an "out of order" sign on each of them. The older man smiled and said in a Polish accent, "Sorry the inspector comes today. You have to take the stairs. A day early. Always a day early."
She thanked the man and entered the stairwell. She looked upwards at the flights she had to climb and sighed in resignation, "Great, just great," and began her trip up. As she rounded the tenth floor she met Jorge on his way down.
"You!" Yelled the chief's all around, good for everything man and attacked her.
Dylan dodged and ducked his punches. She used the banister to her advantage, to swing upwards and propel herself into his chest. Jorge flew back against the wall with a grunt. "Bitch!"
"No you must have me confused with Vivian," Dylan said as she hit him in the face with the heel of her hand. She could feel the cartilage in his nose give with a large crack. Blood flowed freely down his face. He attacked again, and threw he against the fire door of the 8th floor. She hit her head hard and saw stars briefly swim before her eyes. "Now I know how Sylvester feels," she thought as she defended off his blows switching positions with him. Finally she got the leverage she needed from the windowsill and kicked outwards with both feet slamming him into the door she had hit moments before. He cracked his head on the door handle and slid unconscious to the floor.
Dylan took one last glance and headed back up to the 18th floor. She stopped in the hallway and tried to catch her breath before seeing the other angels, too bad Bosley saw her first. "Where have you been," he asked taking her hand and leading her towards Mitchum's room.
"Looking for Mitchum," she said in between pants. "I have to work out more often," she said to herself.
"Alex already found him," he told her as he opened the door. Alex and Natalie were standing over the body with a two police officers.
"This is our friend Dylan Sanders," said Natalie. "Dylan these are officers Fredrickson and Willis."
"What happened," Dylan asked.
Officer Fredrickson opened his mouth to speak but Alex got in ahead of him. "Someone killed him at close range with a silenced .38. Probably someone our friend Vivian is with."
"We need to keep this low key," said Dylan.
"Why," asked Office Fredrickson, "this is a big deal. An FBI officer killed the day of the WTC in the same hotel and only two floors below Donald Getty."
"It will make it easier to catch who did this if they don't think we are after them," said Natalie.
"I'll have to check with our superior," said Willis. He radioed in and the answer came back as be as discrete as possible. Apparently Charlie had already contacted the appropriate authorities in the Windy City.
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony walked up the stairs to his rooms. Jorge had since woken up and gone to his mistress, Vivian. Anthony knew that Mitchum was dead and cops would be there. If he knew that surely the angels were to know as well. He hated trying to guess what they would do, their unpredictability was unsettling. He assumed it had to do with their three distinct personalities but it was still difficult. He went back to the floor the angels' rooms were on and entered a room that the maid was leaving. She assumed that he was the guest who was staying there and didn't say anything. Anthony watched from the doorway the two officers going in and out unseen. The dark haired angel, Alex and the blonde, Natalie left and went to the room down the hall. Dylan was the last one out and shut the door to Mitchum's room for the last time and she spotted him.
Dylan did a double take. She couldn't believe his nerve, standing there watching them and the police. As she approached him he just stood there watching her with his cool blue eyes. "What are you doing," she hissed at him angrily "Did you kill him?". He didn't reply, he just reached out and touched her hair which was pulled back in a ponytail except for the lock he had his hand on. His touch gave her chills and she felt warmth spread through the pit of her stomach. He wound the strand around his fingers. Dylan shivered from the intensity of his stare. "No," she told herself, "No, not until this is over and not then even." "Just one kiss Dylan," the other part of her said, the illogical part, the part that always fell for the bad guys, "It wouldn't hurt."
He tugged lightly on the hair wrapped around his index finger, and Dylan said, "No," firmly. She wasn't in the mood to have her hair ripped from her scalp. He didn't let go, he pulled her close to him and placed his lips firmly over hers. Part of her brain told her to struggle but the illogical part won out. She reached up and pulled his head closer to her. The sound of a door opening caused them to tear apart, and he took the coveted lock as he pushed her away closing the room door in-between them.
"Dylan, what are you doing out here in the hall," asked Natalie as Dylan rubbed the side of her head where the hair was now gone.
Dylan hoped that Natalie didn't notice her flushed face. "Uh, I thought I lost my room key and I was looking for it, but nope here it is." She then took off down the hall towards the stairs, her mind somewhere other than on the case at hand. Natalie stared after her wondering why her friend was acting so oddly.
On her way back to her room she realized he hadn't answered her question. Or maybe he had. After all she doubt he would have kissed her if he had.
Anthony sat on the bed in the strange room. He hadn't meant to kiss her it happened. He needed to get his control back. There was something about her that made him lose it. He knew that killing Getty would allow him to get it back, to reclaim the darkness that he had nurtured and which had protected him through the years. Did he really want to? Was he strong enough to let go of the darkness? He really wondered.