The Road to OZ (5/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover.

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5S.
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Archive:

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

Thanks to the beta team: Bast, haraamis, Spaceseeker and Anon. Also to Misanagi and Shadow for their input and support.

Comments to: anneo

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Chapter Five

Wufei glared at the radio. "It's useless." His ears were still ringing from the loud burst of static that had interrupted his last transmission. "It appears as though we are on our own, at least until Yuy and Maxwell arrive."

"I wonder if the dampening field was already in place or whether your radio activated it," Sally pondered. "Neither scenario bodes well."

"So much for the deserted satellite theory," Wufei agreed. He and Sally had entered the satellite without any problems, but Wufei had an uneasy feeling that they were playing fly to an extremely well organised spider. They had found Quatre and Trowa's shuttle quickly - all Preventer shuttles were equipped with a homing device - but so far there was no sign of its pilots. Either the Preventer agents were being held somewhere, and hopefully had not been moved yet, or had thus far managed to evade capture.

Both were viable options.

Turning at the slight pressure on his shoulder, Wufei nodded when Sally placed a finger to her lips and unsheathed her gun. While it was preferable to deal with this threat without gunfire in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention, it was sensible to be prepared.

Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, growing louder as they approached Wufei and Sally's hiding place. Wufei glanced around, looking for an escape route but was unable to find one. Unfortunately, it appeared that their plan to remain unnoticed would have to be abandoned.

"Lose something, gentlemen?" Wufei asked, stepping into the path of the three heavily armed men. They hesitated for a moment; that hesitation was their downfall. Wufei used a spinning kick against the first man, connecting his foot with the side of his opponent's head before the man had an opportunity to block it. He went flying, crashing against the nearest wall and sliding to the floor. The remaining two men exchanged a nervous look, and then one of them charged. Wufei snorted in disgust before grabbing one of them under the armpit and throwing him forward, while at the same time hooking his leg around his opponent's. The man hit the ground with a thump.

Sally neatly sidestepped the other soldier when he attacked, giving him a good kick in the behind to help him on his way. As he stumbled, she raised her gun and hit him over the head. Wufei winced, in spite of himself, at the loud crack of metal against bone.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he muttered. Sally grinned at him; she had always been a good fighter, and Wufei was in no danger of forgetting that she could be counted on to provide satisfactory backup.

After using their prisoners' belts and ties to secure them, the Preventer agents made their way to the end of the corridor. It was only a matter of time before their captives would be missed; if Trowa and Quatre were still on the satellite they needed to be found quickly.

Voices were heard on the other side of the connecting door. Wufei ducked into a crouch, and raised his weapon, ready to defend himself against whoever was there. Pressing herself against the wall behind the other door, Sally did the same.

"Did you see that weird water effect?" The voices grew louder. "I know the Colonel isn't impressed that he's lost those Gundam pilots, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to go anywhere near that thing."

"Maybe they're dead?" His companion wondered. "Whoever those army types were who took the pilots, they meant business." He sighed. "It's fortunate that 01 has kindly decided to act as a substitute…"

"He's not here yet," the first man said.

"Yet." The other man laughed. "That word has such potential, don't you think?"

"Not as much potential as…" Their voices trailed off as they moved away, and Wufei was unable to make out the rest of the conversation.

"I guess that answers one question," Sally said after checking if the corridor beyond the door was empty. "I wonder who those 'army types' that they referred to were. If they were able to capture two ex-Gundam pilots, they sound like a formidable enemy." She glanced at Wufei.

"Unless they simply moved in and finished what these people had started." Wufei frowned. "If Barton and Winner were already restrained…" Or worse, his mind helpfully supplied, but he ignored it. "What did he mean by a substitute? A substitute for what?"

"Or for who." Sally frowned. "It appears that Duo's theory was right. This was a trap carefully designed to catch Gundam pilots. But I wonder…if Heero is a substitute, would it be for Quatre or Trowa? The breadcrumb trail, as Duo put it so succinctly at the briefing, was for both of them."

"But if they need two pilots, why did those men only mention Heero?" Wufei made sure that the next corridor was empty and they moved forward again, taking care to keep their voices low.

"I don't know," Sally admitted. "But when Heero arrives he won't be alone, will he? Duo is with him, and you're with me. If they need Gundam pilots for whatever they have planned, we're supplying them with a full set."

Wufei rolled his eyes. "We may be on the premises, but that doesn't mean that we're going to surrender." Noticing a door to their left, with a convenient yet dirty window to the side of it, Wufei wondered what the room it led to contained. Rubbing the window clean with the sleeve of his jacket, he peered cautiously inside. "A store room," he muttered. It was completely empty and appeared to have been that way for some time.

"They're concentrating their forces on a specific area." Sally voiced what Wufei had concluded. "Whatever they are working on, they're extremely sloppy at protecting their rear. We could use that to our advantage."

"Unless that's what they are counting on," Wufei paused, his mind working through possible scenarios. "There are different methods available to bait a trap; the further away we move from the docking area, the more distance we put between ourselves and our way out." He retrieved a small electronic device from his pocket and ran a check for hidden cameras or other security devices. "We don't appear to have tripped any alarms, or at least not any that this is familiar with. According to the schematics, there used to be a control area in the direction the men we overpowered came from. I suggest we check that out instead of wasting time investigating empty rooms."

"It sounds sensible," Sally agreed. "I'd also like to take a look at that 'thing' those men referred to. Do you think it might be the weapon we're searching for?"

"It could be," Wufei pondered. They began walking briskly; they would take things more cautiously once they grew closer, but it was only a matter of time before the men they had overpowered were discovered. Hopefully, there would be some way of disengaging the dampening field so that they could get a warning to Heero and Duo before the second Preventer shuttle arrived. "It's very likely that only those in charge of the project know of the weapon's capability, and that's why the men we overheard reacted to it the way they did. What did they mean by a water effect though?" He sighed. "I'm visualising some kind of waterfall in space and that makes no sense at all."

"No, it doesn't." Sally stopped, tilting her head to the side. "I can hear voices."

"They're coming from over there," Wufei confirmed, as they both ducked down and out of sight. He frowned, trying to remember what was supposed to be in that direction. Some kind of hangar if his memory served him right, used for the repair of shuttles and other large equipment.

After waiting several minutes, Wufei came to a decision. Heero and Duo's shuttle was due shortly; they were running out of time. It was a calculated risk but one he deemed necessary. The mission was not only to retrieve Quatre and Trowa, but to discover any pertinent information regarding the threat against the hard won peace. Creeping forward, with Sally again covering him from behind, Wufei carefully edged his way towards the hanger. As he drew closer, the voices grew louder.

"It's not quite the same as the original but then these blueprints have been somewhat modified."

"And of course now we've had to modify the system still further." There was a snort. "These people are idiots, but then we can only do so much with the resources we have."

"This weapon is nothing without the pilots." The man sounded smug. "They are crucial to its success although I doubt they will co-operate freely."

"Of course not. It's a shame really. But what else can one do when given these options?"

Leaving Sally to keep watch and taking care to stay in the shadows, Wufei cautiously slipped into the hanger through the partially open door. Instead of the large open space he was expecting, he found himself in a control room overlooking the hanger itself.

The two men were still absorbed in their conversation. Both wore white coats and had their back to him. He wondered if they were the scientists involved in the design of this weapon, whatever it was.

There had to be a clue as to what it could be, somewhere on the satellite and this was as good a place to start as any. Tightening his grip on his gun, Wufei edged further forward to get a better look and then darted back again as a soldier entered through a side door, exchanged a few words with the white coated men, and then left again. One of the scientists shook his head, but it was difficult to tell whether it was in anger or disgust.

"They have no idea how much precision is involved," he grumbled. "If the calibrations aren't exactly right, their wonderful plan won't work."

"Their wonderful plan?" His companion laughed. "If it wasn't for us they would be still planning that ridiculous scheme. I can't believe that they thought it ever had a chance of success."

Under different circumstances Wufei might have felt a small degree of amusement at the arrogance of the two, but for some reason their words sent a shiver of anticipation through him. What the hell was this weapon that needed precise calibrations, and what part did they expect his friends to play? Maybe it was some kind of remote piloting apparatus? He smirked, doubting that they realised just /how/ difficult it would be to get any of the pilots to agree to work with them. They hadn't fought so hard for peace just to give it up for these idiots.

"It was extremely fortuitous of me to keep a copy of these plans," the scientist continued.

"Oh yes," the taller man replied. "You and your copies of plans. I still can't believe that you left those where your boy could find them. We were extremely lucky."

"What makes you think that wasn't intentional? I knew that he could handle it, even then; it wasn't my fault that events conspired to alter his view of the …"

The scientists began walking towards the door through which the soldier had left, their voices more difficult to hear as they moved further away. Waiting until he was alone in the room, Wufei quickly walked over to the observation window. If he could just get a look at whatever was there before his presence was discovered, this mission wouldn't be a total loss. From what he had seen and heard so far, these men were disorganised and sloppy; they shouldn't be much of a match for a Gundam pilot.

The hanger was dimly lit; Wufei searched the control panel in front of him and managed to increase the lighting enough to help his vision, but hopefully not enough to raise any alarm. Pressing closer to the glass, he noticed a large object taking centre stage.

He frowned. The shape seemed familiar. Too familiar. Taking a moment to weigh up the pros and cons he decided that it was worth the risk to see more clearly. Increasing the lighting a fraction more, he turned his attention back to the hanger and froze, not wanting to believe what he saw. Reverting to his native tongue, he swore under his breath.

Standing in front of him was an almost completed Gundam Wing Zero.

Quatre stretched out his legs on the cot and, linking his hands and placing them behind his head, closed his eyes. He had a headache, and not knowing why he and Trowa had been escorted from the guest quarters to separate cells was doing nothing to help his growing unease.

He had enjoyed talking to Daniel; the older man was intelligent, had a good sense of humour and seemed to genuinely enjoy the conversation. Although Daniel's replies had been guarded, Quatre had managed to discern quite a bit of information before Daniel had remembered the time and left to attend a meeting.

There had not been the opportunity for him and Trowa to talk privately since they had arrived. Colonel O'Neill's trust of them only seemed to go so far, and although he had given permission for their restraints to be removed in the infirmary, the armed guards were constant companions. But then, Quatre didn't blame him and would have done the same if their roles had been reversed. He and Trowa had been careful not to give any information about their mission apart from what Nichol had been careless enough to let slip. O'Neill hadn't referred to the fact that they were Gundam pilots, and they had only answered the questions that he had asked.

After the initial conversation with Daniel, Quatre had been puzzling over the possibilities that they had somehow been transported to an Earth that wasn't their own. He smiled ruefully. It had been arrogance on his part to expect Daniel to recognise the Winner name; of all the times in the past that he had wished for some degree of anonymity, the one time it had happened, it had thrown him off balance.

What were the differences between this world and their own? The Stargate seemed to act as some kind of portal between the two; hopefully it would possible to use it for a return journey. It was tempting to stay here; an opportunity for him and Trowa to start a new life together without the responsibilities of WEI to deal with, or the need to look over their shoulders, waiting for their past actions to catch up with them. He wasn't naïve enough to think that they wouldn't be able to hide their identities as Gundam pilots forever and although they had fought for peace, it had been at a high price. Loss of life was always too high a price to pay but even though Quatre had tried to give his opponents the opportunity to surrender, it hadn't always been possible.

He sighed and shifted on the cot, trying to find a compromise between getting comfortable and staying alert.

Reaching out with his empathic sense, he smiled again.

/Restlessness, concern, relief/

Trowa wasn't enjoying this enforced captivity anymore than Quatre was. Trowa might project an outward calm but Quatre knew him well enough to know that these surroundings, although better than the conditions in which they had been held in the past, would be unsettling him too.

Giving up on his attempt to rest, Quatre pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs back over the side of the cot. The cell was small but clean. Apart from the cot, there was also a basin in the corner and a metal toilet. In the left corner was a table with a lamp and in the other corner, a large storage unit. The door to the cell was secured both electronically and by a standard lock. Neither would be a problem as his lock picks hadn't been discovered, but for the moment he would give the appearance of being co-operative until he could learn more about the SGC.

However, his immediate concern was why they had been moved to higher security accommodation. Something must have happened for these people to suddenly view them as an increased risk to their security, but Quatre couldn't figure out what.

He shook his head, and grimaced at the pain. Ever since the Stargate had engaged, he'd felt a familiar uneasiness that he couldn't place. Waking to Trowa's concern, plus fading snatches of a nightmare, which he had thought he had put behind him, only served to make it more difficult to ignore that uneasiness. Quatre rubbed at his temples again. Damn this headache; he needed to keep his head clear if he was going to find a way out.

Voices outside his prison interrupted his reverie, and Quatre forced himself to ignore the pain in his head and focus on the task at hand. The door of the cell opened, and Jack and Daniel entered. Quatre gave them a polite nod after the door closed behind them. "Hello, Colonel. Daniel. Nice to see you again." He stood and held out his hand.

Jack ignored it. "Sit down, 04." His voice was sharp, and there was a coldness in his eyes.

How could Jack know of his pilot designation? Remembering that Nichol had referred to him as 04, and yelled to his men to stop the escaping Gundam pilots, Quatre surmised that that must be the source of his information. But did Jack know what a Gundam was? Quatre had no idea if they had anything similar on this world. He withdrew his hand slowly and remained standing. "My name is Quatre," he replied. "I would prefer you to address me as such rather than as 04."

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Daniel spoke slowly. "So you're not going to deny that you are a Gundam pilot?"

"Why deny the truth?" Quatre frowned at the mixture of anger and disgust he could feel coming from the two men he had hoped could have the potential to be friends.

"I thought I told you to sit," Jack repeated.

"I'd prefer to stand," Quatre stated, firmly. "Am I being interrogated, Colonel? I assure you that Trowa and I mean you no harm."

Jack snorted. "Give me one good reason why I should believe that."

"You're still alive, and we haven't attempted to escape." Quatre deliberately left off the word yet.

"And for that I'm supposed to be grateful?" Jack didn't seem convinced. "We saved your asses out there; you owe us some straight answers in return for the privilege."

"Do I?" Quatre sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall. This interrogation was going to take a while, and he still wasn't feeling one hundred per cent. He sighed. "What do you want to know, Colonel?" Apparent co-operation would increase the potential for discovering what was behind their change in attitude. "And I apologise for my rudeness. Please, ask what you wish and I'll answer them to the best of my ability."

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you tell me that you were a Gundam pilot, Quatre?"

"You didn't ask." Quatre gave him a strained smile. "I know I've done things I'm not proud of, but what we did was important." He paused. "Do you even know what a Gundam is, Daniel?"

"Oh, yes we've been very well informed, " Jack paused. "Your friend kindly supplied us with a handy reference guide."

"Trowa?" Quatre shook his head. "Colonel, we both know that your source of information wasn't him. You tell me what you think you know, and I'll tell you whether that information is correct." The only other option was that somehow Nichol and his men had followed them through the Stargate, but Quatre doubted it. He remembered all too well feeling several deaths before he'd given into the sedative. The iris that had closed over the gate after they had arrived had been very efficient at keeping unwanted intruders out.

"Suit yourself." Jack shrugged. "I'm quite happy to play twenty questions. Daniel?"

"Jack," Daniel replied automatically; he seemed deep in thought. "Right, sure." He cleared his throat. "You were Pilot 04, and Trowa, Pilot 03." It wasn't phrased as a question so Quatre didn't answer it. "How could you justify killing all those people?"

"I couldn't." Quatre spoke quietly. It wasn't something that he was proud of. "I still can't. It's something I will always regret. We fought so that others didn't have to, but…" He shook his head. "Total Pacifism only works if you're prepared to roll over and die. I wasn't. I couldn't sit and do nothing."

"Yeah well, doing nothing isn't really your thing, is it?" Jack perched himself on the end of the bed. "We're not talking about a fun walk in the park here. I'm military, Quatre. I understand that sometimes in a war, there are casualties on both sides but…"

"There don't have to be," Daniel interrupted. "There's this little thing called negotiation which can sometimes work…"

Jack glared at him.

"Or not," Daniel finished. "If it moves, shoot it. You can learn a lot more from a live person than a dead body, you know." It appeared as though Daniel wasn't of a military mindset. Quatre filed that information for later use.

"Thanks, Daniel. I'll remember that next time an unfriendly decides that my head might look great as a centrepiece on their dinner table."

"Actually very few societies practice cannibalism." Daniel rolled his eyes. "In fact if you look at their cultural and social…" His voice trailed off after Jack coughed loudly and gave him a pointed look. "So is Quatre your real name, or a code name like 04?" Daniel moved away from the wall and pulled himself on the table.

"It's my real name," Quatre told him. Although Daniel and Jack had relaxed their posture, he knew that they were merely switching tactics. He'd handled many interrogations the same way, and he had no intention of letting down his guard. "As I told you earlier, I'm named after my mother. I haven't lied to you, Daniel."

"Yeah, but you've got sidestepping answers down to an art form." Jack shook his head.

"I find it difficult to believe that it's a co-incidence." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "Unless it's the way things are done on your world. What about the rest of your family? Do their names translate to numbers in different languages too?"

Quatre laughed. "No. I don't think my sisters would have been terribly impressed by that. They're rather fond of their individuality." It had taken him months to track down all of his sisters after the war. Meeting Iria for the first time before their father's death had made him realise that there was so much about his family that he didn't know.

"Big family?" Jack asked.

"You could say that." Quatre smiled. If Jack thought that switching the conversation temporarily away from the Gundams might get results, Quatre was more than happy to play along. "I have twenty-nine older sisters."

He was amused by the silence that followed. "What else did..?" His voice trailed off at the sudden pain in his chest. Instinctively he brought his hand up to rub at it, but remembering where he was, he gripped the side of the blanket he was sitting on instead.

/Anger. Concern. Protectiveness./

The emotions flared and then died away to nothing. Quatre reached out to Trowa empathically, but instead of the reassuring presence he'd felt on the edge of his mind since the first time they'd slept together, there was a disturbing void. What the hell was going on?

Quatre rose to his feet, trying to control a sudden wave of anger. "If you want to ask me something, go ahead." His voice was cold; he was struggling to keep himself calm and under control. Had something happened to Trowa? Was that why he couldn't feel him? Had Jack's colleagues decided to use other means of interrogation? Trowa had a tendency to be stubborn and extremely uncooperative when he put his mind to it.

"Quatre, are you okay?" Daniel slid off the table and took the couple of steps over to the bed.

"You tell me," Quatre replied. "Look, gentlemen. I think it's time to cut the crap. You appear to have information regarding our part in the wars. If you tell me the source of that information, I'll attempt to fill in the blanks." He shook his head when Daniel attempted to come closer. "As I said before, I know that you didn't get the information from Trowa. If you want co-operation you'll get further if the flow of information goes both ways."

"You're in no position to make demands," Jack said. "And you expect us to trust you when you've obviously been lying? For crying out loud, give me a break."

"I haven't been lying." Quatre met Jack's gaze directly, his mind searching for an escape route. Depending on the number of guards stationed outside he might be able to get so far, but this was a military facility and no doubt heavily guarded. When he and Trowa had been moved he'd noted the level numbers in the lift - the infirmary had been level 21, the guest quarters 25, and they were now on level 16. Were those levels above or below ground? So far he hadn't seen any windows but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Either way, escape would be difficult but not impossible.

"You haven't been exactly telling the truth either." Jack matched Quatre's glare. "Or weren't you going to mention those colonies you destroyed, or your alliance with Middle Eastern rebels? Or did the lives of the civilians you killed matter so little that you dismissed them without another thought?"

How the hell did he know about that?

"I didn't…" Quatre forced himself to stay calm. Snatches of his nightmare replayed through his mind, but he tried to ignore it. /I can't react, not now./ "I didn't dismiss them. I've never forgotten. I wasn't…." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I warned them first, told them to evacuate. I didn't want to…" He gave himself a mental kick. "As for your comments about Middle Eastern rebels, the Maguanac Corps are good people that I am proud to call friends." His eyes flashed. "Don't presume to know what our world is like. It's dangerous to make assumptions based on faulty information."

"I only have your word that the information is faulty," Jack said. "How the hell do I know that those assumptions are faulty? What you tell us could just as likely be a twisted version of the truth. It's my judgement call, and I'm the one calling the shots."

"How do you explain your knowledge of Arabic?" Daniel asked. He seemed curious.

"As I said," explained Quatre, feeling more confident now that, information wise, he was on more solid ground. "You have no idea what our world is like. My family is originally from the Middle East; L4 is a predominately Arabian colony."

"You're Arabian?" Jack looked at him in disbelief. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but you're blond and fair. Stop playing me for a damn fool. I don't appreciate it."

"Well actually, Jack, he could be throw-back to the days of the British Empire." Daniel coughed. "It's not that unlikely that one of Quatre's ancestors could have been British, especially when you consider just how far the influence of the Empire stretched back in the days when…"

"I get the idea already." Jack said. "Okay, so you might be telling the truth about that one, but what about the rest of it? I'd like to trust you, but I can't. Not after what I've seen."

"Seen where?" Quatre asked. "You didn't see enough in that storeroom to draw any conclusions. If I knew the source of your information at least I could give my…our side of the story. Every war has two sides, Colonel. And those two sides paint very different pictures of what they deem to be the truth." He paused. "Yes, we were terrorists, and we made mistakes, but we fought for peace and tried to make a difference. I hope we did make a difference." He waited for a moment, trying to judge their reaction. Daniel appeared thoughtful, Jack unsure although he was hiding it.

/I can feel their reactions,/ Quatre realised. He closed his eyes momentarily and reached out empathically for Trowa, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt an answering caress against his mind. Something must have interfered with his ability, but what? Could it be something at the SGC, something on this world that he wasn't familiar with?

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"I'm fine," Quatre lied. "I have a slight headache, nothing serious." In fact his headache had disappeared; it was unfortunate that it hadn't taken his unease with it. Although Quatre wanted Jack to trust him, he was only prepared to go so far when it came to exchanging information. Quatre saw no need to tell anyone about either his empathy or his and Trowa's relationship. Both could be exploited.

"Right." There was still a hint of disbelief in Jack's voice. Quatre decided to ignore it.

"You can't go in there, Sir." Jack and Daniel exchanged a glance after hearing the voices outside the door.

The door swung open and a man entered. He was dressed in some kind of uniform, medals adorning the front of his jacket, and a smug smile on his face. He dipped his hat in greeting to Jack who groaned. "Nice to see you too, Jack. Doctor Jackson."

"Maybourne." Jack didn't look up or return the pleasantries. "I wonder what idiot we can thank for this," he muttered.

"Good evening, young man." Maybourne shifted his attention onto Quatre. "I've heard a lot about you and your friend, and I'm looking forward to getting better acquainted. I do hope that Colonel O'Neill has made you feel welcome and not inflicted you with his…annoying habits."

"Looked in a mirror lately, Maybourne?" Jack didn't seem impressed by the man at all. "But then you wouldn't want to shatter the glass, would you?"

"Charming as ever, Jack, I see." Although Maybourne answered the question, he kept looking at Quatre. The man was curious, but it was a curiosity mixed with anticipation. "I don't think we've had the pleasure yet, and as Jack apparently has forgotten his manners once again, it looks as though it's down to me to handle the introductions." He held out his hand and Quatre forced himself to shake it. He had met people like this Maybourne before; they were not people he enjoyed dealing with. "I didn't catch your name, young man."

"Quatre Winner," Quatre responded politely, his upbringing kicking in to override his reaction. "And who do I have the displeasure of meeting?"

Maybourne smiled. "Colonel Harry Maybourne, NID. I'm sure we're going to enjoy doing business together."

End of Chapter Five

TBC