Quartermaine Mansion
Freshly shorn with his beard trimmed neatly, Edgar avoided fidgeting as he sat in the living room waiting for Monica. He was dressed very sharply courtesy of Raine and Dani in a single-breasted Pierre Serlet original tuxedo. No one would be able to find fault with his appearance.
Leave it to the Quartermaines to find something to critique though. Edgar had endured the sharp looks of Edward and the sharper tongue of Tracy. Both Quartermaines had in few words and many pointed glares made their expectations known to him. Monica was to be treated with the utmost respect or there would be problems. That she would be kept out of the spy business was clearly implied.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels came from the foyer. Dressed in a dark blue velvet dress accented with sparkling sapphires around her neck and hanging from her ear lobes, Monica was the vision of a modern, confident woman ready to have a memorable evening. On seeing her, Edgar stood up and gave her a little smile.
"Edgar, have these two been interrogating you?" asked Monica.
Edgar was tempted to answer truthfully but he said, "Not at all."
"It's a bit early," said Monica handing Edgar her fur wrap.
"I thought we would have cocktails at O'Malley's before going to the theater." Edgar helped Monica with her wrap before putting his coat on.
"Wonderful."
"Shall we?"
Edgar led Monica into the foyer. The front door opened and Dillon came in fresh from a day at ELQ.
Dillon smiled at his aunt and her date. "You must be Edgar."
"We have not met have we?" asked Edgar.
"This is my nephew Dillon. He's Tracy's."
"I've heard a lot about you," said Dillon.
"You have?" Edgar glanced at Monica. "Good or bad?"
"That depends on what kind of dancer you are," said Monica with a twinkle in her eye. She looked at her nephew. "We'll see you and Tracy later. Bye!"
Donely Penthouse at Temple Court
Sean could not take his eyes off his little girl. A little voice in his head clarified that Belle was no longer a little girl. The vision before him was a girl poised on the threshold of womanhood. HIs little girl was only a memory now.
"Oh, my goodness! You look INCREDIBLE, gorgeous and SCRUMPTIOUS!" gushed Tiffany as she inspected Belle's dress.
"You don't think it's too much, Mama?" asked Belle still unsure of her last minute choice. She had chosen a white chiffon cocktail dress with a bateau neckline and a slim silhouette. The hem reached her knees. The sleeves were accented with red slashes that formed the Japanese words for joy, love and good fortune.
"Not at all. Those prints on the sleeve add just the right touch. They turn a plain dress into something TO DIE FOR!" exclaimed Tiffany.
"It's a little sophisticated- oof." Sean was interrupted by Tiffany's elbow pushed against his gut. "Lovely, sweetheart. Really. I've never seen your hair up like that."
"Her hair is FABULOUS!" Tiffany sniffed loudly. "Hold it right there. I have to get the camera!"
The first pictures were of Tiffany and Belle in various fun poses. Sean snapped away feeling like he was sleepwalking through a dream.
"Okay, your turn!" Tiffany exchanged positions with Sean.
Sean felt as if he was standing by a stranger as he and Belle posed for picture after picture. Tiffany was on the fifth picture when the doorbell chimed. It could only be Andrew. It was.
Andrew came in asking, "Am I too early? Too late? Is Belle ready?"
"She's all ready." Tiffany looked at Andrew's attire and approval lit her face. "We're taking pictures."
With ruthless determination, Tiffany positioned Belle and Andrew for pictures. In fact, she took pictures of everything including Andrew tying the corsage around Belle's wrist. She was so busy recording events that she didn't notice Sean sinking into an armchair. He was a bit pale, too.
"I can't believe that corsage. It's so beautiful!" exclaimed Tiffany. "All the way from Australia. I just cannot believe it! Wait 'til I email the pictures to my mother!"
"You shouldn't have, Andrew," said Belle.
"It complements your dress better than I expected." Andrew smiled happily. "I have no regrets about the effort."
"Then I don't either," said Belle.
Andrew looked at Sean mistaking his silence for serious parental misgivings. "Um, we'll be entering the school through a side entrance. There will be a trailing car. I'm told the WSB will have at least two people in the school itself. My team will have perimeter watch. Belle will be perfectly safe."
"Uh, huh," said Sean.
"We'll only be staying for an hour-" began Belle.
Tiffany bubbled, "Nonsense. You two have the time of your lives. Dance the evening away!"
Sean stirred himself out of his memories of Belle through the years. "If Belle wants to get home early, that's fine with me. The earlier the better."
"It'll take at least an hour to introduce Andrew to all her friends," said Tiffany.
"What friends?" muttered Belle as Andrew helped her with her coat. "An hour. Tops."
Sean cleared his throat. "I might check in with CnC now and then. Just to make sure you're where you're supposed to be."
"Oh, Sean!" said Tiffany. "Andrew, I know you can dance. Belle can, too."
"She can?" asked Andrew. "I'll try my best to get her to dance then." He looked at Belle. "Ballroom? Modern?"
"I can probably dance any dance you can," said Belle as they left the penthouse.
Tiffany sighed as she closed the door. "Our girl is a stunner. I'm relieved she finally knows it."
"She does?" asked Sean.
"Of course she does. That dress was ... was genius!" said Tiffany. "It's not flashy but very elegant, feminine and still age appropriate. She's gonna turn some heads tonight!"
"It's a school dance not ... not something else," said Sean. "She's ... she's only thirteen."
Tiffany went on not hearing Sean's comments. "I know you want her to remain your little tomboy, honey, but she's blossoming into my kind of woman. It's about time! Thank you, Lord!"
The Webber House
Liz brought two bowls of popcorn into the living room. Her boys were loudly playing video games with Lucky.
"Popcorn's here!" said Liz.
"Finally!" said Lucky collapsing on the floor. The boys promptly fell on their father. "I give up! I give up!" He began to tickle each of the boys without mercy.
Liz laughed at the scene. It felt good after so many months of disagreements with Lucky. Her eyes fell on the sweet Valentines card that Lucky had brought with him. Most of the candy hearts had been devoured but she loved his thoughtfulness.
They had started as friends and their friendship was important to both of them. Her boys would have their father and she would have her best friend. It was the best arrangement possible.
Lucky plopped one boy after the other on the couch. "Ready, Elizabeth?"
Liz sat down on the opposite end. "It's movie time!"
The kids cheered before cuddling into the arms of the nearest parent. Liz and Lucky shared a smile over the heads of their kids.
Life was good. Family was better.
Villa Scorpio - The Big Barn Laboratory
Slap.
Robin looked up from scribbling in her notes at a sound to her left. An envelope lay flat on the table.
Behind her came Vincent's voice. "Open your Valentines' present."
Robin made a show of studying the envelope. "It's not very romantic. No hearts or corny sayings. Tickets to a faraway exotic place?"
Vincent shook his head. "Not likely. The Villa is on full lock down with most of the staff in town. We have no choice but to stay in tonight."
"I have no problems with that." Robin opened the seal of the envelope and pulled out several long sheafs of paper. She spread each one on the lab bench. "Blueprints?"
"Yes. Guess of what."
It took Robin a few minutes to decipher what was in front of her. "It's ... it's the catacombs. All of them!"
"Giles and Suki Kwon used sonar and old maps to piece together what the entire underground system should look like. Over the last month, we've worked with the Green Shirts to do physical walkthroughs. That map is as accurate as we can make it." Vincent bent down and pointed out certain features. "This marking here indicates an access point. Depending on the color, it either comes out in the open or in a building. The areas overlaid in red are no go areas. They have been deemed structurally unsound due to the possibilities of a cave collapse or unpredicatable water levels." He pushed a strand of Robin's hair over her ear. "Now, you may plan our next day in town."
Robin exclaimed, "Yes! We can get to almost any part of the city this way. Undetected and safely."
"Not completely safe. These tunnels are in use by vagrants and criminals. But if we do not bother them, they should leave us alone," said Vincent.
"Some of those vagrants are mentally ill or have nowhere else to go. Maybe we can help a few get back on their feet and-"
"Robin, you always look too far ahead. Take care of yourself first."
Robin pulled away. "I don't like thinking about the present. It hurts. Emma is so cute. I just want to-"
"You must give yourself time to get better. You will be as you were," said Vincent. "Speaking of time, I say that your work day is over. The dinner I have made is getting cold at the Cottage and I do not want to eat alone. Come on!"
Robin took Vincent hand and left the Barn. Their steps crunched softly on the snow-covered path. Stars twinkled in the night sky. Little Jack scampered after them . She drew closer to Vincent. The past was gone. The future was unknown. But this moment felt right to her. She felt free, alive and content in these rare moments. These moments were what mattered.
Majestic Theater at the Megaplex
From the theater rooftop, a single spotlight cut through the clear night sky moving left and right. Under the extended canopy outside the theater, Susan Quincy nodded at her cameraman to get ready. Two of the city's most prominent philanthropists Derek and Lorena Barrington got closer to her position by the theater's front doors. As luck would have it, Tracy Quartermaine and her son Dillon were behind the Barringtons. Susan was determined to do a good job. Behind her fumed two national reporters who had been denied permission to carry out red carpet interviews or broadcast from inside the theater. Susan had no such restrictions.
"It's another stellar event here at the Majestic Theater!" said Susan. "Tonight is the fundraiser for the Frisco Jones Children's Theater. Due to the efforts of a new member of the theater Board, Dianara Amanti, tonight has an added touch of international glamour. Several world-class couture designers will be exhibiting selections from their upcoming collections with our own Port Charles celebrities as models. A few of the dresses will be available for purchase. All proceeds will be going to the theater."
Susan moved to the side to allow all four prominent citizens to fit on camera. "What are you going to be modeling for us, Mrs. Barrington?"
Lorena Barrington's eyes flashed with merriment. "My lips are sealed."
"Come on. You can give us a little hint."
"You dragged it out of me!" exclaimed Lorena. "I have the honor of modeling a gorgeous dress by Alepo Zaggli. It's part of his formal collection."
"And what about the rest of you?" asked Susan. "I know the men couldn't get out of it! Suits? Sportswear? Beach wear?"
"Zaggli suit for me!" said Derek.
"I have no idea what they've got for me," admitted Dillon. "I missed the fitting."
"Whatever it is, you will look very handsome," said Susan looking directly at Dillon. "Maybe a Speedo?"
Dillon's face colored and his expression became stricken like a deer caught in the headlights. The reporter had won him at the theater opening's bachelor auction. He hadn't yet recovered from the lunch date he'd had with her. He stammered out, "Um, yes. I mean no. Ah, thanks."
"You're not modeling, Mrs. Quartermaine?"
"I'm strictly a spectator and supporter tonight, Susan," replied Tracy. "I'm looking forward to an exciting evening."
The foursome left as the next interview subjects Dr. Tom Hardy and his mother Audrey Hardy were steps away. At the curbside, Mayor and Mrs. Floyd were exiting their limousine.
Inside, the lobby was transformed into the style and mood of a sleek and sophisticated lounge night club. Small round tables were set up all around the long antique bar. In various places were situated small artful exhibits on the role of fashion in history from the royal courts of Europe to the fun-loving flappers, the modern sixties and, of course, the movies. The lobby of the theater was filling quickly.
Maxie, Felicia. Frisco, Dianara, Mac, Tiffany and Sean anchored the receiving line as the doors opened for the fundraiser.
Derek and Lorena gave Frisco heartfelt greetings and hugs. Derek said, "Welcome back, both of you!"
"You here to stay?" asked Lorena looking at Felicia and Frisco.
"Yes. Absolutely," said Frisco.
"We have to talk later. My son Mike runs the TV station now. Maxie is a natural on camera. Maybe it's a good time to resurrect Teen Time for the next generation," said Derek. "You can produce the show and Maxie can host."
"It's been decades. I don't know if-" began Frisco.
"We'll think about it. It sounds like a good idea to me," said Felicia. She looked at Frisco. "It's something to keep you busy."
"Our cable side is always looking for content. If not Teen Time maybe something else. I'll talk to you later," said Derek as they passed on to Dianara who left the usually loquacious Lorena speechless.
Dillon gave Felicia a warm hug. "Mrs. Jones, I mean, Felicia, I heard you were back in town."
"To stay this time," said Felicia returning Dillon's hug. She turned to her husband. "Frisco, this is Dillon Quartermaine, Tracy's son. He and Georgie were married ... briefly. I told you about it."
"I remember." Frisco's eyes narrowed as he looked at Dillon. "You broke her heart."
Tracy came to her son's defense. "They were only seventeen. This is not the time or place, Frisco."
"It's okay, Mom." Dillon came to attention and looked Frisco straight in the eye. "I truly loved Georgie with everything I had, sir. I always will. I have never stopped wishing that some really stupid things hadn't happened the way they did. We both lost someone we loved and all I can say is that I'm sorry."
Frisco patted Dillon's shoulder. He instantly liked the young man because he could see the love for Georgie that shone from Dillon's eyes as he spoke. "It's all right. If we can, can we talk later? About Georgie? And it's Frisco."
"Of course. I'd love to talk about her," said Dillon. He turned as a designer's assistant tapped his shoulder.
"All models are being intercepted at the receiving line," explained Felicia. "Go on. You have to get ready."
Lorena, Derek and Dillon were whisked off backstage for dressing and final preparations.
Frisco whispered to his wife, "I've missed so much of the girls' lives."
"We both have and we're both going to make up for it," Felicia whispered back. "It's never too late to care, to love and to be there."
Chase put on his most charming smile as he extended his hand to Felicia. He found her exceptionally attractive. "Mrs. Jones, I hope the night is as special as you are."
Before Felicia could say anything, Frisco's voice cut in. "Chase, what are you doing here?"
Chase removed the invitation from his pocket. "I have an invitation."
"From who?" asked Frisco with more belligerence than was fitting for the occasion.
"Frisco, calm down," hissed Felicia.
"From Robert Scorpio no less." Chase and Frisco shook hands to keep up a pretense. "This is my associate Arnold Vandenberg."
"You're working for Robert?" asked Frisco.
"No. This is strictly a social affair." With that Chase and Arnold drifted down the line to Dianara who had heard the exchange.
"Mr. Masters, you're ... unexpected," said Dianara.
"You retired too soon. Any regrets?" asked Chase with a knowing look at Dianara.
Sharing Frisco's distrust of Chase Masters, the model turned spy answered without emotion, "It was time for a change."
Dianara introduced Chase to Mac as one of her old colleagues. Mac instantly picked up on the clue. Even without the clue though, he was not liking Chase at all.
"You're a lucky man, Mr. Scorpio," said Chase.
"I know I am," said Mac. He looked hard at Chase. "Lucky men know how to stay out of trouble especially in a new town."
"Is your brother as blunt as you?" asked Chase.
"I give warnings. He doesn't bother," answered Mac coolly meeting Chase's gaze. Chase blinked first.
In fluent Russian, Arnold said, "Please accept my sincere congratulations on your wedding to come."
"Thank you. THAT is a welcome change," replied Dianara in the same language.
Arnold had heard the exchange between Mac and Chase. He nodded at Mac warning unnecessary.
As the seconds had ticked by, Sean became acutely aware of Chase and Arnold's presence. His ears strained to hear snippets of conversation. None of what he managed to hear pleased him. As the Gem men reached Tiffany, Sean put his professional mask over his face - worldly, charming and supremely at ease.
Chase smiled, "Ms. Hill, we are enormous fans."
"You are?" asked Tiffany delighted on the surface but she had overheard enough of Mac's conversation with Chase to realize there was more to these men than what met the eye.
Arnold added, "You were the best part of The Heartless Deception."
Tiffany beamed. "Always love to meet my adoring public." She patted Sean's arm. "This is my husband, Sean Donely. Sean, my fans. I think they're OLD friends of yours."
"I worked with their fathers, Tiff," said Sean.
"I see," said Tiffany.
Chase and Arnold shook hands with Sean with no words exchanged beyond banal pleasantries. Sean's eyes promised words later in the evening. He had no time to calm his racing heart because the next set of incoming guests nearly made him forget to breathe. Coming into the entrance was none other than Constance Townley on the arm of retiring Consul and former Ambassador Philip Coughlin.
Sean could feel his heart beating faster. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. Sean forced himself to take lungfuls of air. He visualized the one thing that always made him calm and happy - Tiffany handing a baby Belle to him for the first time. He focused on how he had felt that day. The remembered feelings steeled his resolve.
"I am NOT going to have a heart attack now," muttered Sean to himself. "Maybe next year."
"What, honey?" asked Tiffany.
Sean managed a reassuring nod of the head. The mask dropped over his features once more. "Nothing. Everything is going to be fine. Just dandy."
Connie and the ambassador passed through Maxie and Felicia easily and paused only for the barest instant by Frisco.
"Don't tell me you were invited," said Frisco for Connie's ears only.
"We invited ourselves. Surprise," replied Connie.
"Just great. I am so out of the loop. By the way, Chase and a lackey are here, too," whispered Frisco as Connie and the Ambassador past on to Dianara.
Connie studied Mac closely as Dianara introduced him. "I worked with your brother and your fiancee."
"It's practically a convention tonight," said Mac in humorous tones that were not reflected in his eyes which did show his wariness of anything related to the World Security Bureau.
Coughlin said, "I am an admirer of ALL your work, Ms. Amanti." He glanced at Mac. "Law enforcement is difficult. Few get the recognition they deserve."
"You know Robbie, too?" asked Mac.
"I was speaking about you," said Coughlin before moving on.
Sean made the introductions. "Constance Townley and Ambassador Philip Coughlin, my wife Tiffany Hill."
"Connie? Is that you?" exclaimed Tiffany.
"You know each other?" asked Sean.
"It's a long story and very long ago," said Connie giving Tiffany a hug. "You look fabulous, Tiffany, but you always did."
"Mr. Ambassador, a pleasure to meet you. I didn't know you knew Sean," said Tiffany. Her reporter's instincts were roused by these two attendees. She knew Connie was WSB. The question was whether that was former or present WSB.
"We knew each other in Washington. Sean was always there to solve any sticky problems we had at the State Department. Handy man to have around," said Coughlin.
"Yes, he is," said Tiffany. She tried to quell the growing suspicion that Sean was involved with the WSB again. There were too many things adding up about his behavior especially given their argument. She touched Sean's arm. "He keeps me on my toes I can tell you!"
Outside, two persons caused a minor stir. Mr. Hare dutifully escorted the honorable Lady Augusta Wynter. Their height difference and overall aloofness were both invitation and reproof to the eager press. Perhaps out of fear of the unknown only a few flashbulbs went off.
"The King will be distressed by this," muttered Hare adjusting his spectacles. "Most distressed."
"It is unavoidable," whispered Augusta. Her face was concealed by the deep hood of her dark green full-length cape. "I learned a new word today in the paper. Chill out."
"That is two words," said Hare walking briskly and keeping his hat brim low over his face.
"It means one word - relax," said Augusta. "We are on a new adventure!"
"One bound to end in disaster," countered Hare. "If any person sees your picture ..."
"No one is alive to care. I certainly do not. Not any longer."
Augusta swept into the theater as if she owned it. She and Hare made it through the receiving line. She noted that only Sean Donely looked closely at her. Twice. He wouldn't be the only one tonight.
Accepting the cloak room ticket, Hare said to Augusta. "This is ill planned. We are too exposed."
Bright-eyed and eager as a new foal, Augusta marveled at the theater's space and decor. "I didn't think they would have one of these on this side of the pond. It's wonderfully preserved. It feels like stepping back in time!"
"Let us have this meeting and be gone I say. Where is young Giles to guide us?" grumbled Hare. He shadowed his Queen as she perused the various exhibits. He muttered one dire imprecation after another. Stress always magnified the man's natural pessimism.
As Chase and Arnold waited at the bar for their drinks, Lars sidled up to them. Dressed formally as the other patrons in a fine dark gray suit and dark red tie, Lars pretended to be waiting for a drink too.
"You have accepted the invitation. A wise move," said Lars.
"When and where do we ..." began Chase.
"You will be informed," said Lars.
"Who will we be meeting with?"
"You will be informed," repeated Lars before moving away.
"Cold as the Arctic that one," noted Chase.
"I told you so."
Chased scanned the lobby. "That man there looks familiar. I think I know him." He pointed at a middle-aged man with an attractive woman of the same age on his arm.
Arnold looked in the same direction as Chase. "You should. That's Edgar Stuyvesant former head of the anti-crime unit of Interpol."
"Mr. Clean the Incorruptible? The one who closed down three of the biggest crime families in Europe?"
"The very one. It was put out that he had retired and was in hiding from his enemies. He looks to be enjoying his time out of the spotlight." Arnold noticed Connie with a distinguished older gentleman approaching them. He stood up straighter. "We have company."
"Chase, good evening," said Connie.
"Connie, what a pleasant surprise," said Chase.
"Chase, may I introduce you to former Ambassador Philip Coughlin. Philip, this is Chase Masters," said Connie.
Chase introduced Arnold and hands were shaken all around.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," said Chase. "And thank you for your discretion on that other matter in Vladivostok."
"It's unfortunate that it was necessary," said Coughlin. "I trust that you are not normally that ... sloppy."
"No, sir. Not at all," said Arnold. "Thank you again, sir."
"Thank Connie not me. She vouched for your folly. Otherwise I would not have approved consular resources to clean up your mess thoroughly."
"She did?" asked Chase.
"I did. Don't forget, Chase." Connie pulled the Ambassador away before Chase could ask any further questions.
The Gem operatives followed their progress through the lobby.
"Not someone I want to cross," said Arnold.
"Who?" asked Chase.
"Either. Both," said Arnold. "Couldn't you feel it? See it in their eyes?"
"Connie tolerates me as long as I'm useful. The ambassador is overdue for retirement. He's not worth any attention," said Chase.
"He was days away from getting out then he was urgently called back to Washington. Why?" asked Arnold.
"Because of the you-know-what crisis."
"I don't think that's the only reason," said Arnold. "Another question. Why are they here? There's nothing here for someone like him. This isn't Washington or Manhattan. And if she knows him, then she knows ALL about Vladivostok."
"I'm getting a headache," said Chase.
"You don't find it strange they're here? Together? Individually?"
"Of course I do. But I am staying focused on why WE are here. I don't want to get distracted," said Chase. "Well, do you see them yet?"
Knowing he was asking about the Scorpios, Arnold replied, "No. They'll let us know when they're ready. We're on their timetable and their turf. Literally."
"I know that and I hate it."
"If we're going to deal with them long term, you'd better find a way to feel better about it," said Arnold. His eyes rested on Raine who was talking with Lars across the room. "Damn! Not her, too."
"Who?" asked Chase.
"By the ice man, it's Lorraine Trimble, ex MI5 and MI6. I'm sure of it," said Arnold.
"Trimble?"
"She planned and then covered up the banking alliance that funded MI6's less than legal operations in the Middle East and Asia. It came out and she was switched to MI5," said Arnold. "She was pretty insulated in MI5. Rumor has it that she masterminded even more covert operations on British soil. Of course, none of it has gotten out. The lady learned her lesson well."
"What is she doing here if she's that valuable?" asked Chase.
"She retired quietly from MI5 some years ago. Mr. Clean, the Iceman and the Queen of Cover Ups, quite a collection Scorpio has," Arnold noted. "Who else does he have on his payroll? Plus, the Scarecrow in Paris. He has to have Abelard, too."
"Focus, Arn. Focus," advised Chase.
"I don't have a problem admitting I'm freaking out," said Arn. "If he has Abelard in his back pocket then-"
"He's a ghost."
Arnold repeated a saying he'd learned from older agents like his father and Chase's father, "The Scarecrow's shadow falls upon Abelard's immortal footsteps. The Scarecrow is back. That means Abelard is, too. Who and what are we up against?" Arnold began to actively look around the room studying as many faces as he could. Was Abelard on the premises?
"Allies, Arn, not enemies. With friends like them and with their resources, the sky is the limit," said Chase.
Connie spotted Raine, Alys and Lars scanning the room while pretending to be in deep conversation. She was sure that they had marked her as a person of interest. She opened her handbag and took out a thick envelope. She walked towards the trio.
"Someone owes me," said Connie expertly palming the envelope into Lars' hand as she passed by.
"We'll pass it on," said Raine. She took the envelope and put it into her purse. The envelope meant freedom for the Korolevs and the ex-DVX agents - new identities and legal documents. When Connie decided to call in this not inconsequential favor, the cost would be expensive.
Alys murmured, "They've identified you, Raine, and Edgar, too."
"You're certain?" asked Raine.
"Oh, yes. Mr. Vandenberg has a textbook expression of earnest panic," said Alys with an air of satisfaction. "Edgar's a lovely man but his reputation does precede him. You're rather infamous in your own way."
Raine grinned. "Little old me? I'm harmless."
Lars raised his champagne glass to the ladies and said, "Phase 1 accomplished. I'll let Robert know. On to Phase 2 when the opportunity presents itself, ladies."
Once Tiffany had gone backstage to prepare for the fashion show, Sean drifted around the lobby greeting friends and acquaintances. He made eye contact with the ambassador then headed up the balcony stairs.
A few minutes later, Ambassador Coughlin traced Sean's steps. He found Sean sitting in an alcove.
Sean blurted out in a low voice, "What are you doing here?"
"The Game is speeding up again. The Committee can't keep up. And there's a new player that's blundering around like a bear after a honeycomb full of bees," said Coughlin.
"New player?" asked Sean though he had a very good idea who the player was.
"We've amassed more resources and influence than ever but we grew lazy and lost our way. Our rival Kings and Queens haven't stopped watching, improving and recovering from their losses. They are moving and building momentum. All our data says so. Our areas of interest are endangered. And we're stumped about what's going on with the DVX. We need to control the Game. But first, we need to slow the Game enough so we can catch up and get ahead. The Committee needs your talents, Sean."
"That only worked once and the situation is entirely different," said Sean. "There's no single lever to tip over like I did Faison. His fall set the dominoes falling and assured our superiority."
"The new player is called Smoke. He or she is making moves and upsetting our balance. Take him out and return the Game to the status quo," explained Coughlin. "I'm here to offer you a chair on the Committee. The top chair. You're the only man for it. You know it and I know it."
Sean shook his head. "I can't. I'm honored but I can't. The Game is for someone younger. Someone without a family."
"It's the ultimate thrill with the highest risks and rewards," said Coughlin. "It's what people like us live for. You've had a taste of it."
"And I gave it up. Find someone else," said Sean. "The rule is a life for every loss. If I lose, my family pays the price not me."
"That's why we play to win. Real choices. Real consequences."
Sean insisted, "I can't. I'm sorry."
"You can but you're afraid to lose. We've all felt the same, Sean, but we conquered that fear. Did I ever tell you that I lost my sister and one son."
"Then why are you still playing?"
"The Game is my drug of choice. I'm in it to my last breath," said Coughlin.
"My priorities have changed," said Sean. "I've changed."
"I have an easy solution to your dilemma that will assure your family's permanent safety."
"What's that?"
"it's time to pull you out of the field and retire your cover. It's time for Sean Donely to die," said Coughlin cool as a shard of ice.