"Hey, Leese," Jackson Rippner's broad, self-confident grin chilled her to the bone. She quickly rose but he smoothly caught her wrist and sat her back down.

"Jackson, stay away from me," Lisa ordered shakily. "Just leave me alone."

"Hm," he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No. I need you. And if you don't turn the volume down a little bit your mom dies. So just sit back until after takeoff, eh?"

Lisa's hands shook terribly but she remained silent as the captain spoke over the intercom.

"...sit back and enjoy. Looks like we're the 7018 to London, and I'm your captain Rayford Steele..."

When the turbulence had ended Jackson spoke again. "So let's cut to the chase. When we get to London you're going to make a little call. We can't when we're over the ocean, the phones don't work."

"Who are you murdering this time?" Lisa snapped.

"Chaim Rosenzweig. Ring a bell?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Lisa admitted. "Wasn't he the guy who invented that Israeli crop formula a while back?"

"Bingo," Jackson nodded. "By assassinating him, Israel is forced to hand over the formula to our clients, who then plan to peddle it to anyone who can pay."

"So not only are you killing, you're stealing," Lisa felt her stomach churn. "Do you have any morals at all?"

"Uh..." he thought. "No? But what do you say?"

"Do I even have a choice?" she groaned, the tears starting up. Jackson noticed and frowned.

"Come on, now, I hate when women cry."

"Chauvinist."

"Cry-baby."

Lisa glared at him. "Excuse me for having emotions."

"Emotions only succeed in dragging you down, Leese."

"And what did narcism get you?" she snapped. "A pen in the throat and stiletto in the thigh? Yeah, that's working great for you."

"Well, it got me out of jail, didn't it?" he bargained.

"Yeah, speaking of which, I thought you said you never lied," Lisa sneered. "You lied to get your ass out."

"I didn't lie," he grinned. "A little money exchanged hands, a few deals were made."

"You bought off the jury?" Lisa said in bewilderment. "You...what..."

"I did," he nodded. "Well, not exactly me. The company. How's that mental disease doing, Leese?"

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath, sinking back into her chair and staring out the window.

He smiled contentedly and settled back for the ride.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chloe was tired. Yet she kept driving down the dark road, heading back home to her college in California. She was still slightly annoyed by the argument she'd had with her mother before heading home. The nerve. The nerve of Irene Steele to call her uncaring. Chloe cared. Oh, yeah, she cared all right. She cared that her mother had lost her mind.

Irene had been on what Chloe's father, Rayford, called a "Jesus kick" for years. She'd gotten Chloe's younger brother Raymie into it, too. Chloe thought it was all well and good that she had something to believe in, sure. But it was when she tried to get Rayford and Chloe involved that they got mad.

In short, Chloe wasn't big on the whole idea of religion. It was way too paganistic for her. And anyway, who gave a crap? She was just way too much of a dealer with facts. She had to see it to believe it...and could she see this Holy Triduum crap? No...

Chloe sighed as the sun began to come up. As she continued down the road, she swerved to avoid the crashed car in front of her. The car jerked to a stop and she caught her breath, shocked, then climbed out.

Looking ahead, she saw the devastation ahead of her. It wasn't just this car. The wreckage strewed on for miles, and fires were started. Luckily, she spotted some cops ahead.

"Hey, what's going on?" she shouted to one. He glanced at her, and she noticed numerous cuts on his tired, anxious face.

"Honestly miss..." he ran a hand through his hair. "I really don't know."