Almost to the end. Valerie kills in this chapter again, but it's not bloody or gory really. At least I don't tell you it is. It's so sad to reach the end of a story, you know what I mean? No regular emails saying you got another review every week… Very sad. But... I have stories for this summer. Lots of them. And a story for after that. I feel pretty good about being so far along and ahead, if you know what I mean.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.


When Zane said yes, he probably not only alarmed the people in the room, but everyone across the globe. It was posted on the site within twenty minutes. People panicked.

As promised, he was escorted back to his room, and left there, while the Mafia and the Sun Ye On began to worry. Well— they'd been worrying. Now they were worrying for more than her life— they were worrying for their own. Entirely different things.

The Mafia and the Sun Ye On were advised by criminals across the globe and the Criminal Union to comply with Madam in every way. Finally, they decided to guard Zane as closely as possible. As long as he was there, they reasoned, she would not detonate the bomb. If she made demands, they were probably willing to negotiate.

Valerie watched the whole thing unfold over the course of an hour. She liked it. She really did.

What she was going to need, she decided, was a kitchen timer. All she needed was a cell phone, and a simple kitchen timer. Now that was going to be difficult to find.

She lay on the roof, thinking, and almost ignoring the chaos underneath her. If she was going to do anything, she probably wanted Zane out. Yes, she needed Zane out. Without him, she couldn't dial a phone, or set a timer.

Valerie shut her eyes. It would be pushing things, but if she were careful, she might be able to pass herself off as Chinese to the Mafia. The Sun Ye On would know better, but if she avoided them, she might be able to get inside to where she needed to be…

She liked this idea.

With a groan of pain, she scrambled to her feet, and then stopped. Damn! She needed her hands.

Slowly she turned in a circle, looking around the roof for something to catch the bandages on so she could rip off the outer ones. She'd be stealing a shirt anyway, and an armless man would probably be suspicious. Definitely suspicious.

A weathervane. With a grin, she hurried across the roof, and backed into the pointer until the rusty metal pierced the first layer of bandages. Then, she began to pull.

With a quiet rip, the bandages began to unwind. Round and round she went hoping the white streamers didn't alert anyone on the ground. Her arms began to tingle, but as she had hoped, and individual bandages on her fingers, wrists, and lower arms stayed in place.

It was freezing without her thick casing of bandages, and she stood in the dark a moment, shivering.

Then, slowly, painfully, she bent and began to gather up the bandages, wadding them up. A chimney that was decidedly fake had the honor of being stuffed with them, and then she was off.

At the edge of the roof, she paused, looking over the back gardens. They were pitifully guarded, really. She crept along to the corner of the roof, and slithered down the fire escape ladder.

If anything, they should have had someone near that, but they didn't.

Twenty minutes later, there was a sound like a cough, broken off abruptly from the trees. Valerie quickly pulled on the man's shirt and leather gloves, glad for the little protection they did provide.

Taking the rope in his pack, Valerie tied his hands behind his back, threw the end over a branch high in the tree, and neatly tied him out of sight. Then she climbed up and slit his throat. It was rather bloody, and she gagged as it came pouring out, but she couldn't risk a gun shot being heard. Besides, this made her point better.

With a sigh, she jerked off his hat, and pulled it over her head, tucking up her hair. Hopefully she looked like a boy. She knew she didn't look like a man, but at least a boy…

Valerie took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then set off with a swagger towards the house. She didn't bother being inconspicuous. She was probably more so with the bold showiness than with the shyness amidst two competing COs.

She brushed past a Mafia guard stationed at the door with confidence, and kept walking towards the back of the house. A few of the men snickered at her as she walked by, but Valerie stuck her nose in the air and marched on, looking every bit the young braggart she was posing as.

Of course, she would have puffed out her chest, but that would have been pushing things a little too far.

When she came to the stairs, she was stopped by a guard. Apparently the Mafia didn't want the Sun Ye On to mess up. There weren't any Chinese in the area. She was told with no uncertain motions to turn around and go back to where she came from.

Valerie cleared her throat, said a Chinese swear word, and spat: "Zane!"

She might not have understood the Russian, and the guard might not have understood the Chinese, but they both knew who Zane was.

He shook his head.

"Zane!" Valerie stomped her foot in frustration, and motioned to her eyes as she repeated it.

One of the guards at the bottom of the stairs shouted up something, and with great reluctance, the man in her way moved back. Valerie strutted down the stairs, almost tripping twice.

For once, she was not concerned the people were laughing at her. Rather, she was relieved. If they began to suspect who she was, they would probably become very quiet, if not obviously afraid. After all, she was rumored to have a nuclear bomb.

She tripped once more at the bottom of the stairs, and fell flat on her face. The guards roared. Inside she was crying. This pain— this was more than she'd ever imagined having to bear. It was good her shirt was black. Her bandages were becoming bloody.

Valerie staggered to her feet, brushed herself off with as much dignity as she could muster, and sniffed: "Zane!" at them haughtily.

After a moment of talking amongst themselves, one of them moved to the bomb shelter, and tapped in the password. With a hiss, the doors unfolded themselves, spilling light into the dark room. On the bed, Zane sat up, shielding his eyes. "What the hell?"

Valerie pushed past the guard, tripping again, to the great amusement of the onlookers, and stumbled across to Zane. "Zane?"

Zane swore at her in Portuguese, and batted her away as she leaned over him. "What do you want? I answered the stupid question, and I was just getting to sleep!"

She squinted at him, appearing to be deciding it was really him. "In a while," she whispered. "Be ready for it. This evening."

His eyes widened considerably, but he didn't say anything, and a moment later, the look was gone.

Muttering a few more swear words, she spun sharply, catching her balance against the dresser, and upsetting a glass of water all over her pants. The guards were close to tears by now, and Valerie flounced out, falling once more as she missed the bottom step.

At the top of the stairs, several men were crowded around a laptop, and Valerie leaned over it, seeing to her surprise a large website devoted entirely to her by the Criminal Union. There was a phone number for reporting information about her actions, location, and demands. It looked like they were taking the nukes quite seriously.

Valerie memorized the phone number, and stole one of the men's phones. Later on, she was going to call The Tyrant. She was sure it would be amusing. Very amusing.

The men allowed her to wander around a bit, mostly for the comic relief, laughing every time she did something stupid, which was quite frequently. Every once in a while, Valerie would stop what she was doing, and lecture them with as much seriousness as she could muster after a particularly loud outburst of laughter.

Finally though, she decided to leave, and marched out in haughty frustration after another spill. Quickly, quietly, she climbed onto the roof, and lay down between two chimneys in the shadows, wondering where she could possibly find a kitchen timer.

She didn't even know where the kitchen was, let alone her way around it. Zane probably did. She wished he were with her. Things would be so much easier and less painful.

Valerie finally entered the number in the phone, and saved it, so she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting it. Then, she laid the phone in the gutter, and climbed off the roof. It was almost morning. She needed to get the timer, and get back up here before anyone noticed the man she had killed, or her suspicious youth.

She entered the house again, and began to wander, avoiding most of the Sun Ye On, and examining the Mafia curiously as she passed them. They mostly ignored her, confident that a little boy like her was no threat. She looked like a child really, and there were so many of them. Besides, he'd probably been told to behave in enemy territory.

Finally, Valerie heard the clicking of silverware and plates, and smelled food with lots of soy sauce. She shuffled down several hallways, and finally appeared in a huge kitchen.

A large man turned around, shaking his head in disgust at the boy they'd sent to help him, and shoved a huge bowl of batter at her along with a pancake flipper and a measuring cup. He babbled something in Chinese for a few moment, motioned to the stove, and went back to chopping up walnuts.

Valerie obediently set about making pancakes, looking around for a timer as she did. There certainly weren't any lying around.

Behind her, the cook was talking to himself, probably about the recipes and dishes to be served later that day. Valerie took the liberty of slipping a few rolls into her shirt.

The talking droned on an on, and confident he would hear her over his own noise, Valerie began to open cupboards between pancakes. There seemed to be an unending wall of them, and she grew more and more frustrated as it got lighter, the heat grew, and a few of the pancakes burned.

A timer was vital to her plans, and if she didn't get one, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder to get the stupid diamond out of the chandelier.

Behind her, the cook let out a high pitched yelp of frustration, and dropped something. Potatoes rolled across the floor, freshly peeled and washed, and now dirty.

Valerie bent down and started picking them up as he cursed, and yelled, and dashed around trying to keep everything from literally going up in smoke at once. She got the impression that he was not only annoyed with having to handle this himself, but that he was a gourmet chef of some kind. This must be an extremely frustrating situation.

There. On the counter, there was timer. Right behind the area he was chopping onions to a fine mush.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and saw to bother her horror and annoyance, that he was returning to continue his chopping. She had to get that timer, and she couldn't think of any rational excuse for picking it up. A distraction was in line.

The nearest bowl of fruit was right behind him, and she crept over, picking up oranges, and began to stuff them into her pocket. In the process she managed to break a plate by nudging it off the counter.

With a yell of rage, he turned around, making a grab for her. Valerie, who was considerably less portly easily avoided him, and twisted around behind him, snatching up the timer, and joining it with the rolls in her shirt. She'd better get out of here.

With a grunt, she pushed past him, dropping a few oranges, but not all of them, and fled the kitchen, screaming dramatically as the doors flew open, and he came waddling out after her.

The Mafia members watched this with much amusement, laughing uproariously when Valerie pushed the cook down the stairs, and darted out the back door into the gardens.

After checking to make sure no one was watching Valerie hastily climbed back onto the roof, berating the fast fading darkness. If someone saw her, all her fun would be absolutely ruined and she was so looking forward to sending The Tyrant a nice package that evening.


Points to anyone who understands why she wants the timer.

You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)