-----
Butterflies. They all wore butterflies in one manner or another, and it bothered Tabitha to a degree she hadn't thought possible. It was as if they were suggesting that they were complete, the ultimate goal, and that she... and that she was still undeveloped and in need of further evolution. The golden double-helix she wore proved otherwise.
"Tabitha, is there a problem?" Sharon's voice was crystal clear and carried perfectly across the intervening distance via the communications satellite that had been put into orbit nearly two years ago.
"No. Only..." Tabitha cut herself off, wishing she had stopped at the single word.
"She does not like the amount of autonomy you have granted us." Delphi spoke without a noticeable accent, her English flat, and lacking color.
Tabitha shot a look of pure venom at Delphi, not appreciating having her intentions read without her express permission. "What I do not like is... them," she hissed the word, unable to hide her dislike for their kind, "free to run about off their leash."
Neither the couple, nor their bodyguards, reacted to her commentary. After all, it wasn't as if they were truly of Chrysalis. Tabitha knew, as many of the higher ranked members did, how invaluable their DNA was to the ultimate goal, the fact that it came with unexpected and unwelcome side-effects was unfortunate indeed. They had their place, their uses within the hierarchy, but were far from the supermen that they had once been thought to be. Personally, she had hoped to never deal with their kind face to face, as they caused her to feel a sudden urge to violence in the name of genetic cleansing. They were anathema, a black mark on the otherwise pristine perfection that was Chrysalis.
"Tabitha, it is necessary." Sharon's voice barely hid her irritation. Clearly, she was not in the mood to be challenged, which told Tabitha that whatever was going on was of the utmost importance.
"You will assist them in any manner they deem necessary."
"Sharon..." Tabitha instantly regretted allowing the word to escape past her lips.
"Assez!" Sharon barked. "You will do this or I will replace you as head of the sector. Comprenez-vous?"
The last thing Tabitha wanted was to lose her position; she had her own set of goals and had no intention of forgoing them over a pair of genetic throwbacks. "Oui, Je comprends," she said contritely.
"Bon. Delphi, Lethe, move swiftly to resolve this." It was an order, but one that had obviously been repeated many times by the lack of reaction on the couple's features.
"As you wish, Sharon," Lethe said, his voice soft yet strong, like silk over steel.
There was a click followed by that deadening silence. Tabitha disconnected at her end, not pleased with the way the conversation had gone by any means. She took an additional moment to gather herself, still furious and blaming them for her loss of face. Threats from Sharon were never anything but serious. She calmed herself, her dislike should... no, would not prevent her from working with the pair. Sharon had made it eminently clear that they and their brethren were invaluable tools to the cause and that they would continue to be used so long as she were in power. Tabitha couldn't fault her superior's reasoning, given how Chrysalis had prospered in that time. There had been others who had kept them locked in their mountain compound, ignored and forgotten, but truth to tell, those who followed that path never reigned for very long. The wheel inevitably turned and brighter, more open minds would once again come into control.
It was, Tabitha decided, far wiser to learn the use of them.
"What is it you need?"
Delphi smiled and glanced at Lethe, who deferred to her even though he appeared to be the senior of the pair. "Access to your files and a place to work, for now." She stood in one smooth flowing motion. "Oh, and to arrange a meeting with Jared Stark."
"Jared? Why?" Tabitha asked in curiosity. The man was the former head of Sector G, whom she had replaced, and while he did as he was ordered, it was to the letter only. He and those who followed him clearly had their own agenda and made little effort to hide that fact. If Delphi were after him, Tabitha would be only happy to oblige.
Lethe set a hand on Delphi's shoulder, preventing whatever it was she was going to say.
"It is not necessary for you to know," he stated, voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"And who judges that necessity?" Tabitha questioned, not enjoying being kept out of the decisions.
"I do," Delphi asserted.
"I'm sure Sharon would find that interesting." The challenge had been made, but it didn't faze the woman in the least.
"Feel free to contact her." Delphi waved casually at the phone that had so recently been connected to that very person.
Tabitha managed to hide the wince at her bluff being called. Picking up that phone was the last thing she was about to do. Apparently, confidence was not something Delphi lacked, and what power she had been granted she was unafraid to wield.
"When do you wish to meet with Jared?" She quickly abandoned the previous conversation as the lost cause it was.
"Tomorrow morning will do," Delphi answered, a hand shifting to rest on her hip. She tilted her head, the pupils of her eyes dilating noticeably though the light level had not changed. "I think I shall begin with you."
Tabitha swallowed with a throat gone suddenly dry. This was what she had hoped to avoid at all costs. "Delphi, I..."
Delphi strode forward, her bodyguards a step behind, and placed her palms flat on the surface of the desk. "You have no choice."
With fear coursing through her, Tabitha nodded.
-----
The briskly blowing breeze carried the aromatic scent of decaying fish and the squawking calls of wheeling seagulls that were attempting to purloin tasty bits of the not so fresh seafood. The birds were thankfully far enough away that there was no risk of a surprise falling from above, but that didn't stop Fawkes from grumbling about it.
"Worse than freaking pigeons," he muttered, eyeing the birds warily, hands at the ready to protect his hair should one even contemplate flying towards him.
"Fawkes, think you could keep your mind on the job," Hobbes sniped, not really in the mood to deal with Fawkes and his vanities.
"Huh? Oh yeah." Fawkes cast one last wary glance at the circling vultures, then turned his attention to the area about them. Though a stone's throw away from whatever had died along the water's edge, this area was decidedly upscale. Here there were a dozen high-end boathouses, the boats able to sail right inside and out of the view of anyone not wealthy enough to lay eyes upon them. They were for all intents and purposes estates for the sailing set, the upper levels of the buildings complete with balconies, chimneys, decks; excess and overindulgence taken to the extreme. The color scheme varied but many had chosen to mimic the white with blue accents of the Sand Diego Yacht Club. Their facilities were just a mile north, the flag mounted atop the clubhouse snapping jauntily in the wind.
There were hundreds of boats docked at the Yacht club, but here none were visible, there wasn't so much as a stray scrap of paper or pelican dropping to mar the gleaming perfection of the pilings.
"Crap. The place looks like it's been wiped clean," Fawkes said, echoing Hobbes' own thoughts on the matter. "If Alex was here..." The words trailed off. No point in stating the obvious - there was almost no chance the trail could be picked up from here.
"Not here, Fawkes, but somewhere nearby." Hobbes studied the buildings flanking the Townsend dock as a sniper would. Monroe was no fool, and would have found herself a place to hole up and observe the situation before making her move. Her automatic reaction to rush in had cooled since that first near-miss at retrieving her son at Camp Teanaustaye. He was certain she wouldn't make a move until she saw her son and the opportunity. He was also certain Stark would give her both and only then would the jaws of the trap close about her.
Fawkes pointed at the upper level of the building to the right, a window was open, the wind causing the curtains to shift. "There. She'd be able to see the whole area including inside the target."
"All right, pal, how'd she get in?" Hobbes asked, not questioning the assertion, but wondering how far he'd gotten in figuring it out.
Fawkes shrugged. "Swim? Just gotta duck under the door." He peered in the nearest window, hands cupped about his face to reduce the glare. "Or she could have just driven in."
"What?" Hobbes joined Fawkes with the peering, noting the older model Bonneville, sporting multiple dings and a peeling paint job that did not fit with a multimillion dollar ark parked next to it. "One of these things just doesn't belong," he muttered as he moved towards the nearest door.
"You been watching Sesame Street in the mornings again?" Fawkes said around a chuckle as Hobbes jimmied the door open. Considering the money sunk into the place, you'd think the security would be more than an off-the-shelf deadbolt. With judicious use of his Leatherman he forced it open and swung the door into the dimly-lit interior.
"I told ya before, it's the only good thing on at that hour." Hobbes gazed about the dock/garage, as that was exactly what it was; a place for the owner to park and maintain his toys.
Fawkes slipped past, straight to the car and proceeded to ruin any prints that might have been left behind.
"Fawkes! Could you at least pretend this is a potential crime scene?" Hobbes found it amazing how fast someone with that many smarts could forget something so basic.
Fawkes held up his hand, his fingers ending at the first knuckle. "Gimme some credit. Thief, remember?"
The smartass had Quicksilvered the print side of his fingers, which meant he wasn't likely to mess up any evidence should this not turn out to be a false trail.
There was a snicker from the interior of the car where Fawkes had ensconced himself. "You go, girl."
"What?" Hobbes grumbled as he leaned on the window of the open door. "Eberts would have found it if she'd rented a car."
"Hitting Budget or Rent-a-Wreck ain't the only way to score a ride, Hobbes," Fawkes said all smug and cheery. He reached under the steering column and proudly showed the creative rewiring. "She hot-wired it."
Now that was a surprise. "Monroe stole a car." Not entirely certain he believed his own conclusion, he repeated, "Monroe stole a car," but the repetition didn't make it any more real. He shook his head. "She's been hanging around you too long."
Fawkes snorted in amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment." He leaned over to the passenger side and began fishing around, poking in the glove box, under the seat and the various nooks and crannies, looking for anything that might give them a hint as to whom last drove the car. Stuck between the driver's seat and the center console he found a piece of paper. "Efficient as always." He handed it over to Hobbes.
It was a printout of an online map, complete with directions to the dock house next door. It could have been printed out by anyone, however, there were notes written in the margins in handwriting both men recognized.
"Son of a bitch." Hobbes shook his head, wanting to accuse Monroe of being a total idiot for going into this alone. He, hell, they would have helped if she'd given them half a chance. That's what partners were for, after all. Monroe was still a little too self-sufficient for his taste, but she was also damned good at what she did. It just so happened that what she did was just about everything. "All right, let's check upstairs and see what she could see."
Fawkes shrugged and slithered out of the car. "It wasn't like they grabbed her here."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Need to cover all the bases, my friend." Hobbes surreptitiously patted his Colt, as he headed for the stairs that led to the upper floor. It turned out to be an oversized apartment that was richly furnished, including a well-stocked bar; a place to stay when the owners were too lazy to drive to their local mansion. Of course, this might just be a vacation spot for the owner, but he doubted it. Someone with the money for a set-up like this probably had a house in every port of call.
Randomly opened cabinets and drawers told an even more interesting story, especially once the stash of mismatched women's undergarments was found. It looked like this was a hot spot for dalliances and trysts, a place to bring vapid, vain women just to add another notch to the proverbial bedpost. The owner clearly had ego issues if he needed trophies to prove his prowess. Like these people had nothing better to do.
"Find anything, Fawkes?"
"Would the term 'jackpot' do?"
Hobbes followed the voice into a secondary bedroom were Fawkes was standing before an open window, the very one he'd pointed to outside, gazing out through a pair of high-end binoculars. "Clear view into the dock house next door - nice big conveniently placed window and everything. Boat's name is... Kafka." He lowered the glasses. "Jeeze, guys, could you be more obvious?"
"What do you mean?" Hobbes asked as he sidled up next to his partner. If he didn't know better he would have sworn the window angle had been set up just for this.
"Kafka wrote a book called Metamorphosis," Fawkes answered, returning the binoculars to his eyes.
"Oh." Hobbes had no clue what that meant. "So?"
"So," Fawkes said, sounding put-upon. "Chrysalis is the stage where a caterpillar changes into a butterfly." He turned to look at Hobbes, still using the binocs. "A metamorphosis, get it?"
"Huh."
Fawkes lowered the glasses and gave Hobbes the evil eye. "That's it? Just 'huh'?"
"Not like you expect 'em to have a sense of humor, is all." Hobbes pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Hey, Eberts, need you to run down the registration on a boat named Kafka, at the Townsend dock in La Playa." He paused, listening. "Uh, it's registered out of..."
"Brazil," Fawkes supplied.
"Brazil. Yeah, we think it's Chrysalis." Hobbes lowered his voice. "Yeah, she was. Four o'clock; we'll be there." He snapped the phone shut and put it away.
"Bossman wants us back for tea time?"
"Got it in one." Hobbes glanced down at the floor where assorted pieces of fancy electronics that had been hastily discarded by Monroe bore mute testimony to her presence. There was a parabolic mike, headset, and a digital recorder. "Bingo." He crouched down and picked up the compact device.
"Was his name-o," Fawkes sang, still fascinated with the binoculars. "Whatcha got?"
"Evidence, I hope." Hobbes skipped back to the beginning and pressed play.
There was a lot of noise, the mike having picked up the wind and every rustle and footstep, but the voices were still clear.
".... to see you again, my dear," That was unmistakably Jarod Stark's voice wafting tinnily our of the tiny speaker. "And how is my big boy?"
That was followed by a high-pitched chortle and a crowed, "Dah-dee!"
---
Delphi resisted the urge to wash her hands, to attempt to scrub clean that which had been in direct contact with Stark. The stain left behind was most assuredly not something that could be washed away with something so simple as soap and water, as it had been left on the inside of her flesh, scored into her soul. She had been in contact with far worse minds over the years, but something about his caused her stomach to roil in unhappiness. He was most certainly a prime example of Chrysalis breeding, with an ego that often overrode what little common sense he had. And when it came to his progeny, common sense became nonexistent.
Not only had he allowed the breeding project to be discovered and dozens of children stolen from the camps but the host mother to his own child was fully aware of both the boy and Chrysalis. To make matters even worse she was a Federal Agent, quite willing to use her power to thwart Chrysalis and Stark every chance she could.
In retrospect, it was obvious what had caused the future shift. The host mother had successfully retrieved her son from an indoctrination center and then, thanks in part to a diabolical and perfectly executed plan, had given up the child to Stark's wife on the mistaken belief that the woman was intent on leaving Chrysalis for good. That was the cusp and it could not be changed. Damage control was all Delphi could hope to accomplish here.
Lethe came out of the room, a frown upon his features and weariness in his deep blue eyes.
"All went well?" she asked of him.
"Yes, he believes it was nothing more than an introductory meeting that Sharon requested." Lethe stepped up to her and rested his forehead against hers. "We still do not have all we need."
"I am aware. His immediate future has too many potentials; there was no one clear path." She set her hands upon his hips, wishing he would take the last few hours from her and replace them with something far less disturbing, that he would, just this once allow her the peace of forgetfulness.
"Do we have enough?" he questioned, sliding his face alongside hers, their cheeks brushing gently against one another, his breath tickling the hairs by her ear.
"Perhaps. She is alive, but may not be for long. He sees her as little more than an annoyance, something to be swept aside and forgotten." Some of the potentials she'd seen had similar features and that fact was among them. But Delphi knew what a false perception it was. Those that were genetically normal still greatly outnumbered those of Chrysalis, and had an important role to play before true success could be achieved. Thinking of them as inconsequential, as mayflies, would be disastrous if things weren't changed in the here and now.
"She is needed to correct the timeline," Lethe stated, hands curving about her face, relaxing her, distracting her from the immediacy of what she'd seen.
"I... I'm not sure," Delphi admitted, eyes slipping shut as she melted into his embrace.
He was silent for several minutes, his mere presence cleansing her mind, washing away the lingering residue that had made her skin crawl in discomfort. Suddenly, he stepped away, a serious look upon his face as their eyes met. "Then you must read her."
Delphi nodded. "I have come to that conclusion myself, but first we must locate her."
"And in the meantime...," he prompted.
"In the meantime, there are others to read, including his wife." She turned to Cooper, a man who had been with her for over two decades now. "Did you find them?"
"Yes. It was not nearly as difficult as we were led to expect." Cooper was exceptionally good at his job, which was far more than the simple bodyguard that most thought him to be.
"It rarely is," Lethe pointed out. "Del, can you do this?"
She rubbed the side of her head. "There is no choice; the window of opportunity is closing rapidly."
"You have seen this?" It wasn't often Lethe showed surprise, but this seemed to warrant it.
She shook her head, blonde hair swinging about and hiding her face momentarily. "No, not specifically, but I... I feel it." She closed her eyes, letting random images flicker through her mind. "I don't yet have enough..." She was unable to keep the frustration from her voice. She had seen what would happen to her and Lethe should this path continue unchanged. She turned to Cooper. "Take us to the wife."