The Cottage, Villa Scorpio
Breathing in the cool night air on the front porch, Robin squinted trying to identify star constellations. A gust of wind blew by and she buttoned the topmost button of her coat. The front door opened and Anna and Vincent came out.
"Too much too soon?" asked Vincent leaning on the porch railing and looking at Robin.
Robin nodded. "It's the ... all the noise and babble. I can't shut them out."
"You are trying to do too many things at once," said Vincent.
"I know but what else can I do?" asked Robin. "Hide in a closet?"
"Keep moving forward," advised Vincent. "We will visit old places here like we did in Paris. That helped, yes?"
"Yes, it did. A lot," said Robin. "There are so many memories here. I want to visit grandma Filomena's grave first. Then Kelly's, Dino's, the docks-"
"I'm going to assign a tail to you," said Anna. "You won't even know they're there."
"Mom, I'll be in disguise. No one will know me. No one knows Vincent and-"
"Mother's prerogative. Some things are the same here but even more has changed," cautioned Anna. "Better safe than sorry."
"I want a little breathing room. Is that too much to ask?" Robin crossed her arms across her chest.
"No, it's not. It's also not too much for me to want to keep you safe is it?" asked Anna. "The rules are simple enough. No going off the farm without telling someone. Absolutely no solo trips. Keep your phone on you at all times."
"And I thought Dad went overboard."
Anna chuckled. "Darling, I DO want you to have a life. This way you won't have to worry about your security. Other people will take care of that."
"It's confining to know there are guards following me, Mom. I don't understand it. I was fine in Vladivostock with everyone around me. Now, I feel ... claustrophobic. That's not right. Hemmed in? No. I don't know."
"You've had ... years of solitude. Your mind gets used to its own company." Anna put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "When I came to Wildwind after Alex found me, one part of me craved to be alone because that's what I was for years after the accident. But the older part of me wanted to run towards people - any people. I felt disconnected from things, people, from life itself."
"Definitely disconnected," said Robin. "Don't get me wrong. I love having everyone here. It's just ... just that everyone's different from what I remember. Not a lot but enough to remind me that I've been away." Her expression turned sad. "I can't wish on a star to make things the way they used to be."
Anna stroked her daughter's hair. "I wish that, too. It's not going to be easy. But you're surrounded by people who love you. They'll catch you if you fall if you let them."
"One's missing. Dad. I miss him the most, Mom."
"He'll be home soon."
"When?"
"Your father and I are tying up lots of loose ends. He's nearly done," said Anna.
"What are you tying up? You've been preoccupied all night. Your mind was a million miles away," said Robin.
"Just work," said Anna.
"Work that you won't talk about."
"You know the ... the broad strokes. You don't need to know the details," said Anna. "You said you wanted to start lab work tomorrow. If that is the case-"
"It is," said Robin.
"Then enjoy tonight.," said Anna.
"I am. Really," insisted Robin.
"Okay then." Anna took a step back. "Get back inside where it's warm while I borrow Vincent for about an hour."
"For work?" asked Vincent.
"Franjo Curic," said Anna. "You're the only person other than Robert who's met him. I need you to positively ID him for me."
"It will be my pleasure, Anna."
"Franjo is Therese's brother. He'll be thrilled to know she's alive," said Robin.
"And furiously homicidal."
"Yes but after that passes, he'll be grateful," said Robin. "To you and Dad."
With a decidedly calculating look, Anna replied, "That's what I'm counting on."
Cromden Court, Buckinghamshire, England
Robert faced the assembly. His voice was hoarse from speaking for what seemed like hours. "That brings us to the present and why I'm here asking for your help."
"And if we help you, will this end once and for all?" asked Mr. Hare.
Robert looked the shorter man in the eye, "I believe it will but no one can be sure."
"We may tilt at windmills while the enemy is elsewhere doing more mischief then?"
"Yes. I've spent years collecting and analyzing information on Faison. I strongly believe that I've got all or nearly all his resources and projects identified," said Robert refusing to wither under the cold skeptical jabs aimed by Mr. Hare. "Faison may have some minor resources I don't know about but I know that I have the vital ones targeted - the remnants of the Cartel, the DVX and the Nanny Network."
"Mr. Skinner, your strategy of persistent covert operations has proven effective to date. Your involvement in the collapse of the DVX is hidden under many layers. It seems to me that you do not require our help. Simply continue as you have," said Mr. Hare. "I am confident that you will eventually reach your final goal."
Robert had no ready reply.
Heloise spoke up and said, "When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle. Edmund Burke."
The quote was like a prod to the consciences of the assembled. Augusta gave a small nod to Heloise approving of her well-timed salvo. Of the people in the room, the women were the least ruffled. By contrast, many of the men looked down or away.
"Save us from the righteousness of women," said the White King softly.
Augusta whispered to the White King, "Were Amelia here, she would have said the same."
"In every language she knew," said the White King wistfully.
"A man fights his own battles," said the Red King looking at Robert.
"This isn't about me. I have nothing left to prove," said Robert in calm, measured tones. "Mr. Hare is right. I and my associates can do this alone. It will take years but we can do it. Maybe the question should not be will you help me but whether I will help you? The Nanny Network isn't hurting me or mine. It's insinuated itself into your lives, your homes and your culture. It's YOUR problem."
"Is it? We have only your ... proof," said Mr. Hare.
"No. My proof makes it impossible to ignore something you all know is true or suspected was happening," said Robert scanning the room. "Don't bother denying it. You wouldn't have us here if you thought there was nothing to it."
"The cub shows its claws at last," said the White King.
"But how sharp are its teeth?" asked the Red King.
Robert's eyes narrowed. "I've got Faison in the corner. I won't be satisfied until I've got him by the throat. I'm asking for your help not begging for it."
"Our guests need remain where you are. The rest of you are dismissed to the Tea Room," said the Red King.
Mr. Hatter opened a door at the far end of the room. He made sure the rank and file had exited the room before locking the door once more.
"Your theory is sound. We have long thought that we were threatened," said the Red King. "However, your research has revealed our peril. Our next actions must be careful ones."
"What you ask will set into motion many things that have been left to rest until memories and bodies were mere lines in books and grave stones," said Mr. Hare.
"Does that mean you'll help?" asked Robert not daring to hope just yet.
"Yes. You gave us no choice. You corner people very well," said Augusta.
Robert grinned like a schoolboy let out of school early. "It's my years of being police commissioner paying off. Thank you."
"I have not agreed," said the White King. He looked at the Red King. "You know where I stand. I cannot play a part."
"Not yet," replied the Red King.
"Not ever," shot back the White King.
"Let us cross that muddled bridge later."
"When?" asked the White King.
"When we are in the middle of the bridge," said the Red King. "Connections are being made in my mind that need discussion at another time."
The White King rose from his seat. "I have heard enough."
"Too much to allow an easy sleep?" asked Augusta also rising to her feet.
"I would not go that far," said the White King. The kings bowed to each other.
"I'll accompany you out," said Augusta taking the White King's arm. Mr. Hatter followed them at a distance as they left the room.
Robert looked at Heloise who shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what was next herself.
Robert asked to no one in particular, "Um, what's our next move?"
"Hare and I shall study your research further. You may depart with our thanks and be assured of our help in future," said the Red King. He turned his wheelchair away and moved towards the fireplace.
"We will contact you when we are prepared to move forward," said Mr. Hare.
"Ah, but shouldn't we-" began Robert.
"Does a general send his troops afield without preparation?" asked the Red King.
Robert gritted his teeth at the older man's condescension. He wasn't eight years old but damned if the king didn't make him feel like one.
"We will discuss tactics soon enough," said Mr. Hare. "By your account, the network is entrenched and deeply so. It will not be dislodged easily."
"A piecemeal approach is not a favorable strategy. Neither is lobbing a large grenade into a crowded foxhole. We must be creative," said the Red King. "You, Mr. Skinner, ought to return home. You are newly wed after all."
Robert was caught by surprise. "You know about that?"
"One hears things," said Mr. Hare dryly.
"That is enough, Hare," admonished the Red King.
Robert pulled out three pictures from his jacket pocket. "We're searching for these three individuals. Information about them or their location would be appreciated."
Mr. Hare took the pictures and laid them flat next to each other on a desk. "What matter of criminals are these?"
"Modern day versions of Lucretia Borgia, Dr. Mengele and a twisted brilliant Mata Hari," said Robert.
"How very colorful!" declared Augusta entering the room and walking towards the desk for a look at the pictures.
"Each one is highly dangerous. The man, Dr. Peter Sinclair, is a cousin of Cesar Faison. The two women are ... are wanted on various charges," said Robert. "Details on them are included with the rest of the data I gave you."
Augusta leaned against the table and shifted the pictures on the desk. She seemed to stare for a long time at the grainy picture of Charlotte Devane. So long that Heloise noticed.
"Do you recognize her?" asked Heloise
"It's rather blurry," said Augusta. She straightened. She smiled. "It has been a long day for everyone but it has been a productive one. Hatter, please return our guests to Bletchley."
Mr. Hatter donned his discarded coat. "Follow me, please."
Augusta turned to address the Red King. "Shall we join the others in the Tea Room?"
The Red King followed his wife through the far door. Heloise and Robert followed Mr. Hatter out the door they had come in from.
"That was strange," said Robert to Heloise as they walked back to the car. "Like being in a room full of Jacques."
"Maybe one day you shall be like that," said Heloise.
"I don't think so."
"Why not?" asked Heloise.
"I've got the wrong accent." said Robert.
The Big Barn, Villa Scorpio
Andrew showed Belle the flowers and leaves he'd gathered in Australia. On the lab table stood the jar full of preservative solution. Next to that on a small stand lay the framework of a wrist corsage. It was halfway completed.
"I wasn't sure what color your dress was so I've arranged a variety of flowers. What color is your dress? I can still make changes," said Andrew.
"Uh, why did you go to all this, um, effort?" asked Belle. Her eyes traveled from the jar to the corsage and then to Andrew. "What possessed you? It's just a dance."
"Your first dance. It should be special."
"What did you do for YOUR first dance?"
"Technically, this IS my first dance."
"RIght. I forgot," sighed Belle. "There are corsages at the florists. You could have just bought one and-"
"But it wouldn't have been ... different," said Andrew. He pointed at the corsage. "This is unique. No one else will have anything like it. No one will find any fault with it."
Belle studied the corsage. "It is beautiful. Thank you, Andrew."
"I shan't take offense if you call me Andy again," said Andrew.
"Your name is Andrew as you always remind me. I should use it."
"Quite." Andrew brought the corsage closer to Belle's face. "The flower scents mingle nicely together I think. I should be finished with it in a half hour. Tell me the color of your dress and I shall make that color more prominent on the corsage."
"Er, I LOVE the corsage the way it is. It's really good. Don't change anything. Finish it the way you want to," said Belle. She decided to try a favorite tactic of her father's - have the other person talk about them and not you. "What are YOU wearing?"
"I thought my white dinner jacket would be suitable. My bow tie and cummerbund should match your dress," said Andrew. "What colors are you wearing? You can tell me. I'm your escort."
"Uh, it's white and ... and ..." Belle's eye was caught by a particularly vibrant flower on the corsage. "And red."
"What shade of red? Light red? Dark? Pink? Burgundy?" asked Andrew.
"Red. Regular red."
Andrew fiddled with his IPhone. "SIMON, display shades of red spectrum."
Instantly, his phone screen displayed a sliding color scale of red shades. He showed the display to Belle.
"Point to the shade, Belle," said Andrew. "I'll try to get the closest match I can."
"Of course you will. You're such a perfectionist," said Belle stalling for time and failing. She pointed at one that she thought looked feminine. "That one. I think."
Andrew read off the name. "Cardinal red. Good choice."
"I hope so." Belle committed the shade name to memory. "You really should not have gone through this trouble."
"I wanted to." Andrew returned to constructing the rest of the corsage. "Didn't you tell me that some of the girls at your school teased you?"
"Did I tell you that?"
Andrew nodded. "I promise that no one will be teasing you at the dance. I've studied the appropriate behavior at such events. I won't embarrass you."
"They'll be too busy staring at the corsage to notice anything."
Andrew smiled. "With envy I'm sure. How many girls get a corsage from the other side of the world?"
"No one I know," said Belle. She rubbed at her temples. She was getting a headache from all the mental echoes of 'you don't have a dress yet' and 'get a dress ASAP.' "Listen, I have to get back to the ... Robin's dinner party." She gestured at the plate of food she'd brought over for him. "Aunt Anna said to make sure you finish it all."
"Mum believes I eat too much pizza," said Andrew. "She fails to grasp that pizza has all the major food groups."
Belle rolled her eyes at Andrew's admitted pizza blind spot. "Well, eat all of it. Okay?"
"Fine," said Andrew expertly wielding small pliers and forceps. The corsage claimed all his concentration.
Belle backed out of the lab. "I'll be seeing you, Andrew. Bye!" Under her breath, she muttered, "What am I going to do?"
Warehouse District, Port Charles
Sporadic streetlights dimmed by age and grime bathed the alley. Parked by the loading dock of a warehouse that had seen better days, Luke pulled his wool hat down and made sure his gloves were on securely. He paid attention to the sounds of street life muted by winter and the night time hour.
WHIRR.
The warehouse loading door moved up. Light spilled into the alley as the door ascended. A dark shape leaped off the dock and on to the ground agile as a tom cat.
"Got your message. You got somethin' for me?" asked a no-nonsense masculine voice.
"Special delivery, Johnny-boy," said Luke. He swung opened the back doors of his van.
"Luke? That you?" asked Johnny Zacchara, scion of a once powerful organized family now a mere vassal to the Corinthos organization.
"It's not Mickey Mouse," replied Luke. He shone his flashlight inside the van illuminating five large wood crates. "The manifest says cleaning solvents. Here they be. I deliver and you get it out of my van."
Johnny let out a sharp whistle. Two men emerged from the dock. They scrambled to unload the van.
"This isn't your typical job, Luke. What gives?" asked Johnny leading Luke away from the van and towards a shadowed part of the alley.
"A man's gotta do what he has to. It keeps the bill collectors away," said Luke.
"You know what I mean. Imported goods, diamonds and fancy booze are your thing. Not this," said Johnny.
"I don't even know what THIS is," said Luke.
"You don't want to know."
"Then get it out of my van pronto."
Johnny kept one eye on his men unloading the truck and another on Luke. "This isn't going to be a ... a regular thing is it? My regular supplier will be back, right?"
"As far as I know this is a one way trip to Poughkeepsie." Luke coughed.
"Good. 'Cause Lulu ain't gonna like this. Or Lucky."
"Hey, keep my kids out of this. This is business. That's all it is."
Johnny looked at Luke sharply. "You REALLY don't know what this stuff is, do you?"
Luke's hands burrowed deeper into his pockets. "It's not cleaning solvents that's for sure."
"Take my advice, Luke. Don't do this again. You need money? I can buy more shares in the Haunted Star."
"That hot eh?"
"Like a volcano, man."
"I could use a volcano pouring out money right now."
"Not this one. It can mess you up real bad if you know what I'm saying."
Drugs, thought Luke. Definitely. "Thanks for the warning."
The last of the crates was unloaded. The van doors slammed shut. Luke and Johnny walked back to the van.
"This is my biggest shipment ever. Is that why you're involved?"
"I was told that it was a matter of trust and discretion," said Luke. "And the offer was too good to refuse."
"There won't be a repeat?" asked Johnny.
"That's not up to me," said Luke getting into the driver's seat. "See you around."
Johnny watched the van leave the alley before entering the warehouse. Inside, all was quiet. Wood palettes lay stacked on one side. Machinery was scattered about at random gathering dust. In between two tall racks of metal shelving stacked with crates, lay a trapdoor. For now it was open and light glowed outward.
Johnny descended down the stairs and closed the trapdoor behind him. He would miss the club tonight. He was needed here.
Beneath the warehouse was a sparkling clean modern laboratory that ran the length of the warehouse above but was only half its width. His two men unpacked the crate's contents filling up a tall cabinet with discreet parcel wrapped packages. Two lab technicians in white coats began to prepare their equipment on the long granite counter. In the cabinets above them, Johnny could see bags of empty capsules and even more bags of harmless powder.
It would take four days altogether. In the end, Johnny would have several hundred pounds of Fly disguised as legitimate prescription drugs. He had customers clamoring for it. Demand was just beginning to spike.
"Money volcano? I like that," said Johnny. He went to a far corner of the lab space where a small desk sat. On its scratched surface lay a gleaming commercial printer. From a nearby cabinet, he took out a manual. He would run one set of labels through the printer to make sure they looked real enough.
"Hey, boss?" called out one of the unpackers.
"Yeah?" said Johnny.
"There's an envelope here for ya!" The man brought it over to Johnny then returned to the unpacking.
Suspicious, Johnny looked at the envelope carefully before opening it. It was addressed to him and marked personal. He read the letter once then again. It was too good to be true.
Mr. Zacchara,
This is a one-time offer to change your life and your fortunes. I invite you to join an exclusive group that values what each of us brings to the table and rewards trust, effort, discretion and loyalty.
To accept, call this number 555-4539.
Sincerely,
The Venturi Cooperative
Johnny folded up the letter and put it into his jeans pocket. He knew about Dino Venturi and he liked what he'd been hearing. The man had solidified support and respect from the old Carter family and all the families, big and small, in the East and Midwest. The word was that Dino Venturi was the real deal - nearly a modern day Victor Jerome. Heck, even Johnny's father, Anthony, didn't dare cross Venturi. Johnny decided then and there to make the call tomorrow after a good night's sleep.
Only two men held Dino in low regard - Sonny Corinthos and Jason Morgan. Johnny had a strong feeling their opinions would be changing. Soon.
He returned to the printer while his mind pondered questions and possibilities. Luke had said some key words that rattled around Johnny's mind - trust, discretion, an offer too good to refuse.
"Spencer must be in the group. He has to be to take a risk like this. And if he is then that means he's leaving Sonny's camp," said Johnny under his breath. "Damn! Things are gonna get interesting."