Author's Note: My apologies for the interminable delay on this the penultimate part. My time has been split between varying tasks during this tense time around the world and writing has been lower down the list of tasks than I would like, however, here is the next part, and I hope that the succeeding part arrives quicker than this one!

As a general note, this story only has ten parts, so the finale is being worked on right now.

PART IX: Frozen

Friday, July 7th, 2017

Alert, Qikiqtaaluk Region, Nunavut, Canada

08:17 GMT-5 (13:17 GMT July 7th)

Alert is the most northerly permanently inhabited settlement in the world.

The town is located on Ellesmere island, just 817 kilometres from the North Pole, at a latitude of 82°30'05" North. The name was taken from the Royal Navy sloop HMS Alert which wintered some ten kilometres to the east of the present station, in 1875-76, off what is now Cape Sheridan. In fact, the settlement was so far north that the time of year meant that it was continuous daylight.

The four Royal Canadian Airforce CC-130J transports landed without fanfare or much notice as they were a fairly regular feature at the airport where supplies were constantly needed. The flight north from Thule in Greenland had been long and very, very cold, so as they deplaned, they were very stiff from all the sitting. With the arrival of the combined forces of Fusion/Vengeance/Honneur, Alert's permanent population of around sixty-seven was almost doubled in an instant. The flight in had been hard on those enduring the not-so-comfortable seating aboard the decidedly utilitarian transport aircraft. The teams had been forced to abandon their luxuriously appointed airliner at Canadian Forces Base Goose Bay located in the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador. There, they had shifted to the CC-130J for the mind-numbing flight north to Thule Air Base in Greenland, a flight of some fourteen-hundred nautical miles which had translated to four solid hours in a not-so-comfortable canvas seat within a noisy, smelly, freezing cargo bay alongside pallets of equipment. Then, after three long hours on the ground for refuelling at Thule, they had taken off for the much shorter hop of just 230 nautical miles over the Nares Strait.

As they left the aircraft, there was plenty of not-so-good-natured sniping as tired adults were forced to mix with tired children creating a decidedly volatile atmosphere.

..._...

Chloe, though, was subdued and sullen as she deplaned and everyone knew why but nobody wanted to voice it – the loss was still too raw across the board.

He would have been seventeen while she still had another month to go. As she was led towards their temporary accommodation by a Royal Canadian Air Force warrant officer, she glowered at everything in sight, nothing of which could inspired much hope in the young woman. To be honest, the desolate icy whiteness surrounding them matched Chloe's heart and soul right at that moment, just as it did one other girl. Becky had spent most of the extended flights sleeping or pacing. Her entire character was changing and Chloe was uncertain what Joshua's death would do for the little girl's already damaged psyche. The break at Ascension Island had, however, done wonders for all – even Becky and Chloe – not that it showed for many.

"Well, this place officially sucks!" Curtis growled as he found himself in the male dormitory allocated to them by the RCAF.

"Fucking freezing!" Megan responded as she looked across the open communal area which separated the male and female accommodation.

"Thought that you would be right at home," Jake commented, "you being an ice queen and all."

"Let's keep the sniping for the enemy, shall we?" Willow suggested as she clamped a hand over Megan's mouth preventing a crude response.

Eva studied the accommodation with a grim expression.

"I've slept in worse places, I suppose," she commented.

"Yeah," Ruth agreed. "I'm taking that bunk."

"You've got Stephanie and Electra in the next bunk," Eva warned.

"Not for the first time, believe me," Ruth grinned. "Besides, Stephy may need help when she gets knotted up in her duvet."

'Stephy' simply glared at her friend as Electra giggled.

"Any of you bitches snore and I'll be having words," Charlotte said as she clambered onto the bunk above Ruth.

"Right you useless lot, get your kit checked and report any deficiencies tonight," Saoirse declared loudly. "We move off at eleven tomorrow morning. Rest up and get yourselves acclimated to the cooler temperature."

"We just got fast-frozen like a bag of frozen peas over the last few hours, SD!" Annabelle pointed out.

"That was nothing compared to what awaits us further north," Willow commented darkly. "It's three degrees above, right now, and where we're going it's gonna be more like forty below."

"Point taken," Annabelle groaned as she selected a bunk below that already occupied by a glowering Becky.

Lucy peered into the starkly basic accommodation and grimaced before she turned for a set of tables located at one end of the communal area where the senior staff were gathering.

..._...

Dave grinned at all those assembled.

"Homely," he commented. "Welcome to Alert!"

"Just what we needed, a barren frozen wasteland!" Mindy growled as she sipped from a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"Ignore her," Marty chuckled. "She ran out of marshmallows sometime yesterday and the Air Force won't fly any in – not a 'strategic necessity'."

Mindy's muttered response to that comment was somewhat predictable and suitably obscene. Once the laughter had subsided, Mindy gazed around at her colleagues as they sat at groups of tables, their thick jackets unzipped due to the warmth from the gas-fired space heaters installed within the large insulated single-storey building.

"Okay, the story so far," Mindy began. "We've removed several key pieces from the board including Dieter fucking Mannheim. That has not been without loss with Team San Diego losing a member of their team and there are also the wounded both in the U.S. and the U.K., with some fighting for their very lives in hospital. We are now heading for the endgame as far as the Axis of Evil is concerned and I expect further losses on both sides, heavier on theirs I hope. We know that their command centre is somewhere to the north of us but we have no idea exactly where. There is a massive icesheet extending for hundreds of miles most of it is over water with some over land. The Canadians are searching from the air but so far, they have found nothing unexpected. Over the next few days, we will work our way north, travelling by day and laying up by night. It will get colder as we head north and we all need to watch out for signs of frostbite on our teams. I kid you not, out there is the very definition of 'wilderness'. We are a little over eight hundred kilometres from the north pole – over that-away," Mindy went on with a wave in a vaguely northerly direction. "The nearest real land in that same direction is fucking Russia, some twenty-two hundred kilometres away from where I stand. Between us and them is the whole goddamn Arctic Ocean – and the motherfucking ice cap. However, when you reach the North Pole, the nearest fucking land is actually just four point two kilometres away – straight the fuck down! We won't have much in the way of cover – it will be daylight on a permanent basis this time of year. We have never fought in these conditions and it will be a whole new ball game. It is desolate out there and constantly changing. I want everyone to rest and ensure that they are fully kitted out and ready to use their winter weapons."

"While you're doing that," Dave chuckled, "Mindy's gonna try to get to grips with her new monster truck." He paused. "Like that's gonna end well!"

"Laugh it up, Ass-Kick!" Mindy growled as everyone laughed.

Mindy ignored the remainder of the conversations as she made for the door which led out into a large ante room where cold weather gear was stored. Mindy zipped up her inner jacket and then her outer jacket before she pulled on her woollen hat, under gloves, and then her mittens. After a brief check to ensure that she was fully covered up expect for her upper face she pushed open the outer door and stepped out onto a steel grid mounted on the outside of their accommodation. She looked down a set of steel grid steps at the snow-covered ground four feet below her and then over at the vehicle depot some two hundred yards distant down a ploughed street. With a sigh, Mindy Lizewski took the steel steps down to the snow and then she began to trudge towards the vehicle depot. Her mind was racing with ideas and thoughts of what the future held for her and her companions. The death of Logan Dark weighed heavily on her shoulders as did the other injuries sustained by those fighting by her command. In England there had been more casualties and the outcome was anything but certain from a medical point of view. What else could happen before it was all over, she thought. Then she turned as she heard boots pounding on snow coming up behind her.

Eleven year old Stephanie Lizewski was running towards Mindy – at least Mindy assumed that it was Stephanie as the youngster was buried under copious amounts of deep blue cold weather clothing.

"Hi!" a voice called out confirming that it was Stephanie. "I wanted to see your big beastie."

"You thinking I can't be trusted?" Mindy chuckled.

"Kind of," Stephanie replied. "Actually it was 'lectra."

"Where is your conscience?" Mindy asked as she looked around the snowy landscape.

"I be here, bitch!" a voice announced from what had outwardly looked like a pile of snow but soon unfolded to reveal a white-clad Electra Haig.

Stephanie laughed out loud as Electra looked up at Mindy who reluctantly nodded her approval.

..._...

The Toyota Hilux AT44 was a beast of a machine which sat on 33" tyres, and each CC-130J had disgorged two of the beasts for a total of eight in three distinct versions.

All four were painted white with a mottled grey effect. They had been immediately driven undercover into an aircraft hangar where they were joined by three large pallets of equipment. The hanger was the designated vehicle depot for the facility and was heated – not for the benefit of the personnel but for the expensive vehicles stored inside. During the flight north to Goose Bay from New York, the team had been learning about merely existing in the Arctic, let alone combat in the Arctic. The vehicles had been massively adapted by an Icelandic company and then by Wayne Industries. Very little of the vehicle was original from the Toyota factory. The gigantic 33" tyres were custom-made and each vehicle sported a ten-thousand dollar set of them. Almost everything about the vehicles was custom. The suspension and steering was not where it was supposed to be – due to the monster tyres and the uprated fuel system. Underneath each vehicle were two gigantic fuel tanks which would carry a special fuel mixture. Standard diesel contains paraffin which at zero Celsius starts to solidify, gradually crystallizing before it starts to gel at around minus eleven Celsius. With the overnight temperatures plunging to below minus forty Celsius, the diesel was mixed with aviation kerosene so as to keep the mixture liquid to south of minus fifty Celsius. Each truck was powered by a three-litre turbo diesel engine tuned to operate in the sub-zero temperatures of the Arctic.

As well as the customised running gear, tyres, and fuel tanks, the underside of the vehicle was armoured to protect anything important from ice damage. A steel tubular bar arrangement acted as bumpers front and rear and despite the fact that it was not due to get dark for a few months each vehicle was fitted with an array of additional lighting. For the mission ahead, the vehicles were based around three major body versions: the standard double-cab pickup with an open load bed of which there were two, three which had been customised to carry three-hundred gallons of diesel mixture in an insulated aluminium drum in lieu of their load beds. Those three would each be towing another three hundred gallons of diesel mixture in a custom-designed off-road trailer. The final conversion was to convert two further vehicles to include a fully insulated and weathertight load bed which would be used for food and other more delicate supplies. They too would be towing a trailer loaded with supplies. One of those last two had had its twin-cab converted into a command & control vehicle with the best in mobile computer technology as well as the vast majority of their communications equipment including a trainable satellite dish in a weatherproof enclosure mounted on the roof of the vehicle. Every vehicle was also festooned with survival equipment and everything required to dig themselves out of trouble.

They were all very acutely aware of the risks ahead of them. If they ran out of fuel, they would die. If they ran out of food, they would die. If they lost their shelter, they would die. If they lost their vehicles, they would die. The vehicles and the supplies they carried would be their very livelihood and that was all before they actually started getting shot at! They would be in danger the very moment they left the safety of Alert. They would not even be able to sleep in their warm vehicles in case they plunged through the ice without warning and then sank several thousand metres to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. Each night they would have to pitch their tents and hope that they survived the frigid nights. The threats ahead of them were serious and varied. They could fall into a crevasse and die. They could fall through the ice and die. They could catch frostbite which might cost them a finger at best or an entire limb at worst. They could be attacked by a polar bear in their tent at night – yes, that shit really happens! The drive over the icepack would not exactly be easy going either. They would have to dig themselves a road if the vehicles could not manage it which included digging their vehicles out should that be needed. Should they become permanently stuck, then quite simply, they would die as the nearest help would be Alert, a long way away.

The plan was for thirty-five of them to spend three days driving around ten-kilometres a day (ideally) which they hoped might bring them closer to where they hoped to find the Axis of Evil command centre. From that point onwards, it was just about anybody's guess as to what they would be doing or where they might be going or where they might ultimately end up. It would be one of their most dangerous missions and one where there was every chance of dying from the elements as there was of being killed by the enemy.

"Cool!" Electra exploded as they entered the cavernous aircraft hangar via a side door and an RCAF corporal on guard.

The trucks had been wrapped up on the aircraft so it was the first time for them all, including Mindy, to actually see the beasts in the flesh. All around the eight vehicles were a mass of RCAF engineers as well as a score of Wayne Industries technicians. The vehicles were being fuelled up with their special mixture of fuel which had been transported aboard a separate aircraft as well as having their onboard equipment checked, re-checked, and checked again. No corners were being cut and everything had to be perfect before it would be allowed to leave the facility and begin the dangerous trek northwards. Stephanie and Electra stepped around pallets of 'Pack, Ration, 72-hour, Arctic, Single' each pallet of which consisted of over a dozen large cardboard boxes.

Each vehicle was factory fresh and probably somewhat cleaner than when they had originally left the factory. The paintwork was matte and the overhead lighting reflected very little. As the trio approached the closest vehicle – that one bore the eight-inch tall letters and numeral 'TH1' in grey lettering on the front and rear wings. Mindy noticed that Stephanie was either very excited about getting aboard the truck or she needed to use the bathroom.

"Go on," Mindy grinned and both girls bolted for the vehicle.

Mindy gave the girls a few minutes and while she waited, she found her mind drifting back a few days.

Five days previously...
Sunday, July 2nd

And some twenty-five hundred nautical miles to the southeast...

John F. Kennedy International Airport
New York City, United States of America

00:50 GMT-4 (04:52 GMT July 2nd)

Nobody stirred as the two Boeing products touched down in darkness.

It was not until nine o'clock that all were awake. There was a lot to be accomplished before the two aircraft took off again in two very different directions. Both aircraft were refuelled after their lengthy flight from Ascension Island and made ready for their next flights all while their passenger compliments switched between the two aircraft. There was little joy in the parting of the teams as the vast majority remained aboard THE PHOENIX for the onward flight into danger while all but four boarded COCKBURN ONE for a flight back to London. As for the Bourne family, they were to remain in New York for the anticipated next phase of the mission.

At ten that morning, Dave and Mindy headed into New York City – mainly to spend some quality time together but also for old time's sake as it was not often that they were in the city where everything had begun for them both and with time to spare.

Northern Queens

10:32 GMT-4 (14:32 GMT July 2nd)

It had to be the first visit.

She had not visited in quite a while and she felt bad about that, so she had to make amends. Mindy Lizewski nee Macready had no qualms when it came to converting a living person to one more compatible with those who normally occupied a graveyard but when it came to actually walking through the rows upon rows of gravestones, the veteran killer felt uneasy. Mindy did not believe in zombies nor did she entertain vampires – although those blood suckers made for good movies, she had no desire to become one. She had never been able to understand her dislike for graveyards but as she reached the eighteenth row and then walked past seven gravestones, she found two reasons to dislike graveyards. The two graves lay side-by-side but shared a common solid marble gravestone which bore a simple inscription etched into the dark metamorphic rock.

In Loving Memory

Kathleen Macready
Died 3rd November 1997
Loving Wife and Mother

Damon Macready
Died 25th September 2009
Devoted Father

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad."

Dave held his wife close to him, knowing that it was very hard for her to convert her emotions into words. Despite neither of them having ever known Kathleen Macready, Dave knew from conversations with those who had known Kathleen that Mindy was the spitting image of her mother in both beauty and brains. While Dave had never known Damon beyond his Big Daddy persona, he had respect for the man who had brought up the wayward Mindy single-handed for the vast majority of her childhood, mostly against the odds.

"We're out saving the world," Mindy said as she thought about what could have been and what could never be. "Dave's been making me behave."

Dave chuckled at that – like he had ever been able to make Mindy do anything against her will! But she was not too far off he realised; Mindy had listened to him from time to time – out of necessity, of course, not that she would ever admit it.

"Damon would be proud of his rebellious little munchkin."

"I was never 'little'!" Mindy bristled.

Dave laughed.

"I was just short for my age..."

Mindy tailed off as she gazed around the cemetery trying to figure out if something was amiss – after all, it would not exactly be the first time she and Dave had been attacked in a cemetery.

"You're petite but still a major handful."

Mindy grinned happily as she leaned into her husband.

Sixty minutes later...

Brooklyn

12:52 GMT-4 (16:52 GMT July 2nd)

It was a place that neither had wanted to return to, for understandable reasons, but the tour of the dead had to continue.

This time, though, there was previous trauma associated with the internment of one of those dead. The funeral of one James Lizewski had been eventful, to say the least. But again, the pair stood before a single gravestone.

Alice Lizewski
Taken from us July 8th 2007

James Lizewski
Joined his beloved
wife August 14th 2013

"Shitty day when we buried Dad, right?"

"It had its ups and downs."

"It also caused you to leave New York," Dave said quietly. "And me."

Mindy grimaced.

"It was a bad plan on my part but I had to protect Marcus – or at least try to. I broke one of Daddy's biggest rules when I went clambering all over that shitty van and killed those cunts – all as myself. I should have been prepared. I should have carried a mask at the very least to hide my identity . . . only it all happened so fast. The pain from my head hitting that statue. That and the realisation that you were gone . . . it fired me up and really pissed me off. I found Marcus unconscious and I stole his gun. I had to go after you – it was my fault..."

"No!" Dave said as he pressed a finger onto his wife's lips. "You had your reasons for staying home and I have never blamed you for Dad's death."

"I still..."

"Shut it!"

Mindy scowled at the sharp rebuke.

"I know, Dave."

"I suppose it all had to happen to really bring us both together."

"True," Mindy conceded. "Why don't we go somewhere more exciting?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Dave asked nonchalantly.

"Could be...," Mindy responded with a broad grin on her face.

Together, they raced for the rented Mustang parked at the cemetery gates.

Seventeen minutes later...

Still in Brooklyn

13:48 GMT-4 (17:48 GMT July 2nd)

The street was creepily familiar to Dave.

He could remember striding confidently down it as he had made for that twat's apartment. Only, his confidence had somehow failed him once he had gained entry into that 'secure' apartment. He couldn't stop himself from grinning as he considered the absurd sequence of events which had followed. From the initial beatdown to the appearance of...

"Fond memories, huh, Dave."

Dave chuckled as he remembered the pint-sized Mindy in her original purple costume. All of them in the apartment – apart from Rasul who was already dead – were simply gobsmacked and speechless at the sight of the miniature bringer of death and destruction. Then that big dude had seized a bottle of bourbon and attracted the focus of...

"I was in my prime."

"You still are, honey. It was an awesome flip."

"I know."

"I'd never seen a leg cut off before."

"Those were sweet blades – my favourites."

"You were fucking evil!"

"I know."

"You were enjoying yourself far too much!"

"Yeah, I was."

"Then that dude came out of the bathroom with his..."

Mindy grinned as she dug her right hand into the pocket of her jeans and she produced her trusty Balisong, flicking it open just as she had so many years before – it was still cool to watch Dave considered.

"Then it went sideways as it always does!" Dave reminded his wife.

"That could have gone better," Mindy conceded with an embarrassed grin and she gave Dave a kiss.

"Ewww!" came a voice from an almost hidden space in between two panel vans just a dozen yards away.

"Shut up, Abigail!"

Mindy glared at the two panel vans for thirty seconds before two girls appeared and stood sheepishly on the sidewalk.

"We clocked you two bitches in the first cemetery – honestly!" Mindy notified her daughter.

"Stupid bitch slipped on a loose stone," Stephanie growled as she glared at her friend who simply shrugged in response to the accusation.

"We wanted to see where you were going," Stephanie explained. "We figured you were off to see old haunts.

"So, is this where Kick-Ass first met the early Hit Girl?" Abigail asked.

"Kick-Ass was strutting his stuff, huh?" Stephanie grinned.

"Strutting?" Dave grimaced. "Not strutting. Mindy?"

"Cringing?"

"Yeah, that fits," Dave agreed.

"Scared shitless?"

"That fits too."

"Way out of his depth?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Wished he'd spent more on his taser?"

"Definitely!"

Mindy and Dave both roared with laughter.

"Why are my parents so goddamn weird?!" Stephanie complained, missing the obviously hilarious joke completely.

"Looked in the fucking mirror at your own mug, lately?" Abigail deadpanned.

"My life sucks!"

"First accurate statement you've come out with since we left the airport," Abigail grinned.

Stephanie opened her mouth to respond but a glance from Mindy had Stephanie closing said mouth before a word could be uttered as Mindy's cell rang and Stephanie's expression shifted to one of concern as she watched Mindy's smile vanish and then a look of anger cross her features.

High Wycombe, England

19:02 GMT+1 (18:02 GMT July 2nd)

The wreckage was barely recognisable for what it had once been.

What the accident had not destroyed, the fire brigade had finished off with their 'jaws of life', cutting off the roof and the doors. The preliminary police accident report had noted that the collision had been unavoidable due to the high speeds involved. It had also been noted in the report that '…the sustained vehicular speed had been borderline excessive and a key contributor to the crash…'. For the young traffic officer who had been amongst the first to respond to the RTA (road traffic accident) and the scene had looked like any other RTA which he had attended. He had parked his BMW 5-series estate a short distance from the wrecked vehicles, his flashing blue and red lights indicating to all that something serious had occurred. He had instantly gone straight for the inverted Jaguar where several drivers had gathered to ascertain injuries and try to help. Another vehicle, a small Peugeot had collided with a traffic light pole and other drivers were attending to an injured woman there. Then things turned weird as a black helicopter descended into a field a short distance away and then a man appeared, dressed in a black flight suit and wearing a black flight helmet with the dark visor down. The patch on the flight suit was ominous as it went with the pistol carried on the man's right hip: VENGEANCE and RAPTOR. That was when the police officer had noticed that the Jaguar was sporting blue strobe lights on what remained of the front grill and the inside of the shattered windscreen, all of which still flashed indicating that the occupants were probably Vengeance even before the vehicle's registration had come back with confirmation. Ambulances and fire engines had soon arrived, deluging the crash site with blue lights as the drivers were shepherded away and the emergency services personnel had gone to work.

That had been hours ago and the road remained closed for the accident investigation. The Vengeance pilot, Raptor, had given no information as to why he or his colleagues were there. He had taken custody of the firearms which had fallen from the wreckage and he had placed a seal on the boot of the inverted vehicle to prevent anyone tampering with the additional weapons carried aboard the armoured vehicle. A senior police officer and a senior Royal Navy officer had arrived at the scene an hour after the accident and much of the demanded answers were quashed by the two senior officers, slightly enraging the local police officers who were attempting to investigate the accident. Then an Army vehicle transporter had arrived to cart off the remains of the Jaguar which was craned aboard, still inverted, and covered with thick canvas tarpaulins, leaving the police officers with little remaining evidence and a note from the Home Secretary to put the investigation on the 'back burner' . . . indefinitely.

Interestingly, the black helicopter had escorted the Army vehicle transporter from the area.

About that same time...

Hamilton Road, High Wycombe

19:02 GMT+1 (18:02 GMT July 2nd)

Rosa had all but worn a path in the carpet as she had fretted and paced backwards and forwards.

At first, Rosa had been beyond angry with the girl but then that anger had quickly subsided to be replaced by worry and concern. Her mind had been working the problem for hours and hours. Where was Wanda? Was she safe? Had someone taken her? Could she be hurt? So many questions – zero answers! The girl had no cell phone and she was out alone in a foreign country of which she had little to no knowledge.

Cara and Hahn were seated on a couch looking very unhappy – neither had been allowed to move so much as an inch in several hours, excluding very brief trips to the bathroom. Both were worried about Wanda and both were a little scared by Rosa's initial burst of anger.

As for Leo, he had departed the house at noon.

..._...

Leo had been driving around the area in ever increasing circles until he had reached the town centre where he had parked the Range Rover and begun to investigate local stores.

Being a Brit, he blended in perfectly as he moved in and out of the various stores. He hit paydirt at the McDonald's and he kicked himself, metaphorically speaking, for not having gone directly to the burger joint. One of the girls on the tills remembered speaking with a young American girl who had fumbled paying with her debit card but finally succeeded on the second attempt. Leo's eyes scanned the store as he thanked the girl and left. He studied the pedestrian area outside the shops and then his eyes focussed on a small newsagents. Leo sauntered inside and he made directly for the man standing behind the till who was in his late thirties and was probably the shop's owner.

"Yes, young sir, how can I help?" the man asked with a broad smile.

"I need to see your CCTV," Leo responded politely.

"I can't just show that to anybody, you know."

"Buckinghamshire Council Trading Standards, sir. We have received a report that an underage minor was served cigarettes in these premises."

"I would never..."

"Now, the initial evidence suggests that the report is false, but a quick check over your CCTV from between noon and two should help clear this all up," Leo advised smoothly.

"Got some ID, young man?"

"Of course..."

The man had barely peered down at the card thrown down onto the countertop which did NOT identify the bearer as working for Buckinghamshire Council when he realised that the young man had vanished and then he felt pain.

"Now," a dangerous voice growled from directly behind the man and on his side of the counter. "I want to see your CCTV."

"Take anything, just..."

"I am not here to rob you, you pillock!" Leo hissed as he pulled the man into the back of the shop. "Bingo!"

On a side table, surrounded by stock, sat a DVR – digital video recorder – and a small flat-screen computer monitor. Deftly, Leo forced the man to kneel.

"Hands on your head!"

Swiftly, Leo scanned back through the footage before he found what he was looking for. He then used a USB memory stick from his pocket to download the relevant video for later perusal before he then stabbed a few key sequences and turned for the door. Leo was out of the shop, almost a full minute before the shop owner realised that his assailant had gone.

Leo headed directly for the safehouse.

..._...

Leo closed and locked the front door some fifteen minutes later.

"What have you found?" Rosa demanded.

"From what I can tell, Wanda bought a McDonald's," he replied.

"Is that all?!"

Leo did not respond as he turned on the large flat-screen television in the living room and he then inserted his USB drive which played automatically. The image was in full colour but there was no sound.

"A newsagent gave me access to his CCTV," Leo explained.

"Voluntarily?" Rosa queried.

"Partly," Leo chuckled. "This is from just after noon. There she is, her big gob filled with Big Mac."

"Fucking bitch!" Rosa seethed. "Oh crap!"

"Yeah – it's Frost," Leo confirmed. "Keep watching."

Rosa was not happy as she watched the scene unfold. She could see Frost studying Wanda who appeared none the wiser to Frost's presence. Then she identified some others, all of whom were focussed on Wanda.

"Hunter Graves – Third Intake (intermediate)," Leo lectured. "I have no idea who the other girl is, however. Graves reaches for his pistol but changes his mind and deploys his ASP – sound decision considering those around him. He moves in to support the girl who grabs Wanda but Wanda freaks out and Frost puts the girl down."

"They're attacking Frost and protecting Wanda but Wanda has no idea they are trying to protect her. Then that random kid knocks Graves down and by the time he gets back to his feet," Rosa added, "Wanda's been shoved into that BMW."

"Yes," Leo acknowledged. "Then a Jag appears and the girl and Graves climb in. The Jag roars off in pursuit."

"Those people," Rosa commented. "Vengeance?"

"It seems so," Leo replied.

"Then they might have Wanda?" Rosa offered hopefully. "The Jaguar caught up to the BMW and they..."

"No," Leo said slowly. "The Jag crashed a few miles down the road. I saw it being lifted and taken away – the wreckage that is."

"So Wanda's gone!" Rosa almost shouted.

"For the moment, yes," Leo said calmly. "It looks like Miranda Frost has her. She was out searching for us – see in the early frames, she's checking out a parked Range Rover."

"Fuck!"

Rosa was furious. Furious with herself. Furious with Wanda. Furious with the world. She had a decision to make. Was it time to come in from the cold? Could she really trust anyone to help with their plight? Did she have any choice?

"Leo, we need to talk."

Leo's eyes narrowed at the turn of phrase which was never related to good news.

..._...

Leo was astounded to hear that Fusion was more than just a passing acquaintance for Rosa and that their assistance escaping from Los Angeles had had a price.

"I have a contact number given to me by Mist and it was only to be used in an absolute emergency. That CCTV showed that Vengeance are searching for us – why else would they be in High Wycombe?"

"They want to protect us?" Leo growled. "More likely they want Wanda and Hahn to use against their father. I trusted you when you said that they would help us escape America but I am not about to simply hand those children over to them."

"We are out of our depth," Rosa reminded Leo. "We need their resources to track down Wanda before anything bad happens to her."

"Okay, make your call but I don't want them coming here, understood?" Leo persisted.

Rosa nodded I agreement and she headed out of the house and she walked about half a mile to the north before she turned on her cell phone and she dialled a memorised number.

About that same time and a little over a mile to the south...

19:48 GMT+1 (18:48 GMT July 2nd)

Thirteen-year-old Wanda Mannheim was beyond scared.

For endless hours, or so it seemed to the youngster, she had laid on a bed in an unknown place. She had awoken to find her hands and wrists bound with stout rope. For several moments she had been confused as she could see nothing through what had to be a blindfold. She remembered a scuffle on the high street and then being pushed into the back of a car, a sharp pain in her neck . . . and then nothing until she had awoken.

Despite her sight and touch being taken from her, she could still hear and smell. She could hear nothing but neither were her surroundings silent. She could smell that wherever she was, the place was not in constant use as there was a musty smell to the room where she was being held. Part of her was scared but another part tried to assemble information so that she could figure out where she was and how she could escape and return to her family. Too late, she had realised that she should never have left the safety of the house where she knew that she was being protected from just such an event as was occurring at that moment. The youngster froze – she had heard a sound. It sounded like a door opening.

"Hello, how are we doing?" a voice asked.

Wanda began to shake violently with fear.