WSB HQ, New York City
WSB Managing Director Connie Townley found an excuse to slip out of the building and go for a short walk. Only after she'd walked six long city blocks did she read the text message from Sean. It said:
I'M IN. MINERVA PAUSED. MORE LATER.
"Paused? What the hell does that mean?" muttered Connie. She pulled the collar of her coat up. "I hope he knows what he's doing because I have no idea." Her official phone rang. It was her deputy Edwin Link. "Yes, Ed … Edwin?"
"I regret to inform you that your request for expedited citizenship papers for three have been denied by the State Department," said Edwin. "The liasson requires more information than we have supplied it seems. Perhaps if I was FULLY briefed on the matter, I could find more efficient means to-"
"This is a very delicate bit of business. I'll try another way. Is there anything else?"
"The executive panel members have all agreed to meet tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred," said Edwin. "I will have the status report completed for your review later today."
Connie's phone display began to flash. There was an incoming text message. She ended the call with Edwin with one push of a button. The message read:
CK8 - Heads up. 55-45-08N:37-36-56E
"Sean and Robert - my lucky day," said Connie. She headed back to her office double time. She knew the coordinates by heart. It was Moscow.
She tried a number overseas. The operator at the consulate in Vladivostok put her through to Ambassador Philip Coughlin immediately.
"Connie, I take it this is not a social call," said a sleepy ambassador Coughlin.
"I need a favor."
"Let's hear it."
"I've got a special request through that's getting blocked. I need you to exert a little influence to get it unblocked." Connie recited the case number. "Three flights stalled. All high level with payloads on the runway."
There was a brief pause as the ambassador decoded the subtext - three defectors with valuable information who were likely in hiding. "How hot?"
"Lava would get scorched."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Today, please."
"I though you'd have learned some patience over the years."
"Didn't you know I faked it," said Connie with a grin. "Can you do it?"
"I think so." Coughlin ended the call.
Connie placed another call.
"Yes, Director Townley?" asked the smooth voice of Raine Trimble.
"Raine, please let Anna know that the package she's waiting for is on the express lane."
"Yes, I will. Thank you."
"How's Frisco doing?"
"Adjusting to civilian life. Shall I tell him to oontact you?"
"No. It's nice to know that some people get out … intact," said Connie. "Like Frisco. Like you."
"Been checking us up?"
"Just the ones I know about. Such an … an eclectic collection of personnel. I couldn't resist."
"We are retired, Director Townley."
"Whatever you all say." Connie ended the call. She was two blocks away. A part of her wanted to keep walking past her office while another side felt the familiar sense of growing anticipation that came with the prospect of action and excitement. Who was she kidding? She could no longer give up the WSB as a fisherman couldn't stop fishing his favorite spot.
"When you're hooked, you're hooked," said Connie.
Villa Scorpio
All the way down the drive from the gate house to the main house, detectives Lucky Spencer and Alvin Martinez scoured the landscape for any scrap of information or clues as to the farm's activities.
"Where do you think the underground lair is or the mega-sized satellite dishes or the laser-guided missiles are?" asked Alvin. "Do you see the ghost boat anywhere?"
"We are in upstate New York not James Bond territory," said Lucky. "If there was anything like that here, I guarantee you we wouldn't be able to spot it."
"No?"
"You think Robert or Anna would be that careless?"
"Yeah, you're right." Martinez's eyes scanned the ground. "It's ALL underground. Gotta be."
They got out of their car and saw Andrew holding one of the large loggia doors open for them. Andrew led them through the puppy-infested solarium, the dining room noisy with at least five different languages being spoken and into the quiet of the main house.
"You recovered from the shooting in Australia pretty fast," said Lucky observing Andrew closely.
"Fortunately, the aim was imperfect," said Andrew. He knocked on the study door. "Mum?"
"Come in."
The detectives followed Andrew inside. They sat in armchairs in front of the wide desk. Andrew lingered by the door.
"Lucky, Alvin, you have questions for me?" asked Anna. "Something about Matt Hunter?"
"Dr. Hunter was helping me on an investigation. A drug user was experiencing atypical seizures," said Alvin. At the mention of seizures Anna and Andrew were instantly on the alert. "Matt traced the cause to a prescription drug. He suspected that the drug wasn't what it appeared to be. He was right."
Lucky continued the explanation, "He said he used Robin's laboratory at the hospital to run a chemical analysis on the capsule's contents. It turns out that the drug was a hallucinogen called Fly but disguised as a genuine pill."
"Normally, analysis takes weeks but Matt got results in about a day," said Alvin. "We want to do another test but Matt, ah, won't let us use the equipment that he used. Dr. Quartermaine has the lab sealed in any case. Matt said we should speak with you. Here we are, um, ma'am."
Lucky looked at Andrew. "Is it some secret in-development DigiMaze computer that Matt used? We won't say a word if you let us use it."
"Why the urgency to re-test?" asked Anna.
"We're building a case for making an investigation into Fly a high priority," said Lucky. "We need absolute proof. That means more than one test and better analysis."
"How pervasive is Fly?"
"I first heard the name locally around the summer. Boutique drugs come and go. But this one is gaining in usage and popularity. The high lasts for hours and for most users there are no side effects. It's known as a happy drug," said Alvin. "We think the distribution network is fairly sophisticated. Street drugs aren't often dispensed from legitimate pharmacies are they?"
"Usually new drugs spread from West coast to East. This one is doing the reverse," added Lucky. "We think its main manufacturing location is here or close by, maybe Jersey. We want to stop it at the source and we need your help to do that."
"Don't the Zaccharas run the drug network here?" asked Anna.
"Yes they do. The usual stuff - heroin, cocaine, marijuana, Ecstasy, meths. Because Fly goes out through pharmacies, we don't think the Zaccharas are the main players for Fly."
"Another organization?"
Lucky shrugged. "It could be anyone trying to make a name for themselves and moving into new territory."
"Wouldn't Sonny Corinthos have something to say about that?"
"His control isn't as secure as say the Jeromes in their day," said Alvin. "Nobody dared to muscle in on Victor's turf."
Anna flinched openly at hearing the hated name of Jerome.
"Sorry, Mrs. Scorpio. Congratulations by the way," said Alvin.
"Old reflexes. Thank you. Go on."
"Port Charles is one of the few international ports on the East coast. That's why it's such a hotbed of crime. Whoever controls the distribution network, controls the traffic. The Alcazar network started here and had routes all along the seaboard and into the Midwest. The Alcazar family's primary business was gun running but they profited from their network by allowing others to use it like a tollway," said Lucky. "When Lorenzo Alcazar … disappeared, Sonny and Jason split up the Alcazar network. Jason got the warehouses and the docks. Sonny got intangibles like contracts with other families who pay tolls to Sonny to use the drops, hand offs and personnel of the network."
"Anyone wanting control of the full network has to take out Sonny and Jason. Many have tried and failed," said Alvin. "But the flipside is that neither Sonny or Jason can expand. Their power base is here. They have to be paranoid about anyone new coming in."
"Because there is always someone bigger, stronger or who wants it more," deduced Anna. "Or someone devious and extremely patient with a product that sells itself. Opportunity and money leads to control."
"You have someone in mind?" asked Lucky intrigued.
"Do you have a sample with you?" asked Anna ignoring Lucky's question.
Alvin took out small plastic bag with two capsules inside. "Break open the capsule to test the powder."
"You'll do the test?" asked Lucky.
"No but the Andrassy Foundation will. They should be more than credible for your purposes," said Anna.
"Absolutely!" said Alvin.
CHIME, CHIME
Anna shared a look at her son, "Ro- … when it rains … Andrew?"
"The cottage?" asked Andrew already moving towards the door.
"Yes, please." As the door closed, Anna pinned a stern glare at the two detectives. "Now, let's talk about what you will be doing for me."
"Ah, er …" began Lucky.
"I expect you to clear it with Captain Wells first," said Anna. "I want copies of everything, EVERYTHING, that the department has on organized crime in the city in the last fifteen years - Corinthos, Zacchara, Morgan, Alcazar, the whole lot."
"You're going to clean up the docks?" asked Alvin.
"I've been gone for a long time. A lot of things have happened," said Anna noncomittally. "Do we have a deal?"
Zeckers Bakery at the Megaplex
Dani affixed the flyer on the bulletin board. She made sure it was prominently displayed. She picked up her stack of flyers and left. Her team was posting these flyers all over the city. One was sure to attract the attention of their quarry - Franjo Curic.
The flyer on the board was a simple one. A picture of a smiling woman in a cheery floral sweater taken in the sunshine. Under the picture was a few lines.
Have you seen Therese? Please call 555-1040.
Memorial Park
Frisco lay his flowers in front of his brother Tony's and daughter Georgie's grave markers. Felicia did the same to the two other graves beside Tony's - his wife Tania and their daughter Barbara Jean.
"Hey, Tony, better …" Frisco choked down his sob. "Better late than never, right? I'm never here when I'm needed. You … you had to shoulder everything." He looked at Felicia. "He must have grown to hate me."
"That's not Tony," said Felicia placing a hand on Frisco's shoulder. "He could never hate you."
"I've screwed up all my life. He picked up the pieces. Every time."
"It's our turn to make things right. Last night was a good start," said Felicia. "No one threw anything."
Frisco wiped an arm across his wet eyes. "We're here to stay, honey. My word on that."
"This is our last chance. I mean it, Frisco. If you run off, I'm not running after you," said Felicia. "I'm done doing that."
"I know that. No more screw-ups." Frisco wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "If the WSB comes calling, I'll slam the door shut. Promise."