Disclaimer: Don't own the Dukes, etc. DOUBLE UPDATE, chapters 11 and 12. So be sure to review twice, Dawnie-7. :)

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She dozed. It was hard to stay awake – once the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion landed on her like a ton of lead bricks. She struggled under the weight, but her eyes would shut of their own accord, until she would find her chin hovering just above her chest and her neck muscles screaming in agony.

Henri-Mae looked up, trying to get the joints in her neck to crack back into place. The window was brighter than it was before – "the butt-crack of dawn," as her father had once called it.

Bo was looking at her, puzzled. "You fell asleep," he said.

Balladeer: Always was a quick study, Bo.

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, shifting in her bonds as well as she could. "Where's Luke? Agent Stone? Why haven't we been rescued yet?"

"Don't know," Bo said, "but—" He was cut off by the approach of footsteps. Two of the men, both of them armed with guns, came over. Quickly, the plastic binding was snapped and they were pulled to their feet.

"Where are we going?" Henri-Mae asked, her muscles not in any shape to resist, but her attitude multiplied by her sleep-haze grumpiness.

"Shut up," the man said, dragging her along. His gun precluded any argument, and even Bo obeyed their orders, silent if sulking.

They were escorted to a car and unceremoniously shoved into the back seat. No one spoke to them, and there was no sign of Farrell.

The car bumped along Hazzard roads until it pulled behind a thick cluster of bushes. The light in the sky was getting steadily brighter, but it hadn't quite cracked the horizon when the armored truck came by.

It happened quickly. Henri-Mae and Bo couldn't see it but they heard gunshots. Long minutes passed, and there was a crackling on the radio. The driver picked it up.

"Bring the girl," came Farrell's voice. "Put the hayseed in the trunk."

Henri-Mae was roughly grabbed out of the backseat and dragged around the car. Two others came around and dragged Bo toward the open trunk, struggling all the way. He looked about ready to escape, too – Bo was as slippery as an eel and as ornery as a crocodile when it came to being outnumbered. But there was the click of a hammer being drawn back and Henri-Mae felt the hard barrel pressed against the back of her skull.

"Keep it up, redneck," the man said, "and her brains will be keeping you company in the trunk."

Immediately, Bo stopped struggling. He looked at Henri-Mae, and their eyes met.

"Don't worry about me, Bo," she said. "These cowards aren't man enough to shoot me."

"Don't push me, girlie," the gunman growled.

She turned her head, the barrel now snug against her temple. "Please," she snorted. "You guys went through all this trouble only to spill my brains out now? Farrell needs us for something, I don't know what it is, but I know you'll be in more shit than you can handle if you—"

"I'm going," Bo said, moving toward the trunk. Henri-Mae froze, turned her head toward him. He was half-way in the trunk, and his eye caught hers as the hood came down.

"Smarter than he looks," the gunman said, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the road.

Balladeer: This can't be good. Least those boys coulda done was give Bo a screwdriver. He would've if the situation was reversed.

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Bo wasn't sure how long it took for the trunk to come open, but when it did, Cooter stood there with Luke beside him. "Morning, sunshine," Cooter said as the sunlight streamed in, blinding Bo for a moment.

"What's going on?" Bo asked, stumbling out into the light. "Where did they take Henri-Mae?"

"We don't know," Luke said. "I got Enos and everyone else…even Boss Hogg and Rosco."

"I thought they were in on it!" Bo cried.

"Not how you think," Cooter said. "Rosco was particularly pissed that Henri-Mae got snatched, and I daresay I've never seen Hogg look so guilty."

Luke went on. "We set up a road block, but…it didn't work."

"Shoulda seen it," Cooter said. "Beautiful waste of a perfectly good truck."

"Sounds like I missed a lot," Bo said, taking the water Luke offered him.

"Not really," came a voice, and Bo turned and saw Gabrielle standing there, geared up to the nines in shining black paten leather with a helmet slung under her arm. She had a look on her face that was almost unreadable. Behind her, on a bike that would have made Henri-Mae drool, was a man dressed in a simple black suit, complete with white shirt and tie. A helmet also crowned his head, which seemed as golden as Bo's.

"That's Gabrielle's partner," Luke said by way of explanation. "Michael."

"Partner?" Bo echoed. "I thought Farrell…I'm completely lost."

Gabrielle smiled a thousand watt smile. "Well, I'm sure Luke will catch you up on the way. Get the General, boys…we're going to go have some real fun."

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"A set up, all from minute one?" Bo said, sitting in the passenger's seat, as Luke worried he wasn't fit to drive.

"Agent Stone is the queen of shucking and jiving," Luke said, rueful admiration in his voice. "She had everyone strung along like birds on a wire, and everything fell into place. She was the one who got Boss in cahoots with Farrell, she set up the transfer of the ten million dollars, knowing that Farrell could strong-arm the right men to make stealing the money easy. Then she just stepped back and watched it all unravel."

"Even Henri-Mae getting kidnapped?"

"Yeah, that part is a bit of a monkey wrench in the whole thing," Luke said. "After I left you I tried to find Gabrielle but she wound up finding me. I wanted to bust the two of you out, but she insisted it would go easier if we just let Farrell carry out his plan and then follow along. We didn't think he'd take her, but he did. Insurance, I'm pretty sure, to keep all of us at bay."

Bo glowered out the window. "I'm worried it's much darker than all that," he said, his voice heavy.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Luke said. "Didn't want to worry you, though."

"So Boss is in on this too?" Bo said, trying to put it all together in his head.

"Heck yeah, although how Gabrielle managed that is a story I've yet to hear." Luke swerved through traffic, trying to keep up with the motorcycle flying ahead of them. The tail of Gabrielle's blond braid flapped in the wind, the only spot of color on the looming black shape.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," Bo said, feeling the grogginess clear with the adrenaline of anger seeping through him, "Gabrielle came here to set up her fake partner Farrell, got Boss in on it, dragged us into it, and finally let Henri-Mae in on it, and then her real partner, Michael, came in to help out with the clean-up. Although what exactly we're supposed to cleaning up, we're not sure?"

"Terrorists, boys," came a voice over the CB. It was Gabrielle's loud and clear, and the boys couldn't help but wonder how she'd been listening in the whole time. "All in a big war against terrorism. If I told you that Farrell wants to use that ten million to fund some very nasty homeland operations that might turn into another 9/11, you'd see why Boss so eagerly volunteered. He's a lot of things, but he's a patriot at heart."

"But why all the deception and double talk?" Bo asked.

There was an amused paused. "Coming from you, that's funny," she said. "But truth be told, I have orders I have to follow like any good soldier."

Luke shot Bo a look that clearly showed his incredulity that Gabrielle was anyone's foot soldier – she moved more like a general now, rallying all the troops she could.

"There it is," came her voice again, and there was static. Bo and Luke looked to see a freeway into Atlanta, thick with traffic. The semis especially cluttered the lanes, choking up exit ramps briefly before exploding onto the wider road where the traffic was thinner. "I know it ain't the dirt roads of Hazzard, boys," Gabrielle said, "but try and keep up."

With that, the motorcycle zipped out from in front of them and began ducking and weaving through cars as if it were a black hummingbird darting from flower to flower.

Luke gave a little sneer. "That boy's showing off," he said.

"Teach him a lesson," Bo replied. Luke obliged, but soon it became clear that the General, as fast and sleek as it was, wasn't cooperating lithely enough to slice its way between cars.

"Luke, are you even trying to catch up to them!" Bo yelped.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Luke barked back, but before he knew it Bo was shoving at him.

Balladeer: Nice to see in times of trouble, some things don't change.

"Let me drive!" the younger cousin ordered, and Luke half-considered resisting, but if there was one thing that Bo could do better when he was mad, it was drive. So they swapped seats, swerving briefly for a moment, and the second Bo's hands were on the wheel, the tailpipe of Gabrielle and her partner's bike were in sight again.

"That semi," came a male voice, presumably that of her partner, Michael. "The one without any company markings."

"Which one?" Bo asked, searching through the white blurs. There were so many…

"The white one!" came the answer, as if it were obvious. Bo would have asked which white one, but before he could say anything, the motorcycle seemed to go faster than before. It skidded around and then pulled up directly in front of an off-white semi without any commercial markings – completely indistinguishable from any other semi, except by the smudged print around the cab.

"Hide a tree in a forest," Luke murmured.

"What the hell is that girl doing?" Bo gaped. Gabrielle had stood up on the back of the motorcycle, her hands on Michael's shoulders. Then she spun around, her foot up on the back bar of the rear seat, and she used the accelerated motion like a slingshot.

The driver of the semi spotted her. He attempted to swerve but the motion was too much for a big truck to take at that speed, and the wheel wobbled. Any more pressure and it would tip, and the driver knew it. All he could do was watch while Gabrielle did the incredible.

She leapt into the air, her legs curling under her, and Bo was briefly reminded of Henri-Mae's jump on the racquetball court. But this was different. She was like a living arrow, flying straight and true, whole body poised and tense, then curling with the effort to lift herself just a little higher, her feet clearing the cab, and her hands reached out and gripped the edge of the big trailer car. She flipped over, feet going into the air like an acrobat, until she landed on the roof of the trailer, hunched down like a black window spider, ready to attack.

"Holy shit," both boys said, unable to help themselves.

Balladeer: Hate to say it, but I agree with them.