General Hospital
The code blue team exited the patient's room utterly defeated. They had tried to resuscitate the patient for nearly an hour with no result. The charge nurse called the patient's next of kin and informed them. Technicians cleaned their equipment and readied them for the next code.
The resident slumped over a chair at the hub. Exhaustion and frustration evident on his face. He took out his phone and left a message for the patient's physician. "Matt, your patient, the Mayor's niece, she just coded. We tried everything. I'm sorry."
He turned to the floor nurse. "I'm going to update the patient's chart and then I'm out. Dr. Steuben is on her way. There should only be a few minutes of no coverage."
"Yes, doctor," said the nurse. "Should I log you out in five minutes?"
"That would be great. Thanks. I can't see straight anymore." The resident picked up a chart and began to update it.
Majestic Theater
Sean chose his words with care, "Dropping my cover is extreme."
"It's a testament to you that your cover has lasted this long. But you're needed and you know that winning is the only safety for you and all you care for. Campaigns take time and your family would be … exposed for the duration. Fair game to pay the loss."
"I have a thirteen year old daughter and my wife is-"
"A minor would be out of bounds but not your wife," said Coughlin. "The absolute guarantee of their safety is in complete disassociation with you. There's only one way to do that. The choice is yours."
"I know that. It's just that after all this time, it would be like ending a life. One that I've made real to me in every way."
"People live out their lives not knowing what is required to keep the peace and what sacrifices are necessary. Few have what it takes to be faithful to our purpose no matter the situation. Like you, I was selected early in my life. I've had some regrets but I have always felt that what I do, what decisions I make, are for the right reasons. History has proven that our goals are not out of reach or our efforts in vain. Our truest and best enemy is doubt. You wouldn't be the first person to have doubts."
"I still believe in our purpose, Philip, but I can't think about this right now. I need some time," said Sean. Inside his pockets, his hands had curled into fists. His mind was seized by a level of panic he'd never experienced before.
"I'm sorry for surprising you like this but the situation is serious," said Philip. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. "I want your answer by noon tomorrow. Here's what we have on Smoke. It's not much but we have a task force being organized to carry out intelligence work. They would be fully under your disposal."
"If you know so little, how can you think it's a threat?" asked Sean.
"You and Operation Brimstone stopped the DVX in their tracks slowing their progress enough to give us enough time to reach superiority in technology, alliances and resources. But Smoke has managed something we didn't even dream of doing - decimating the DVX and all within a forty-eight hour window of time. For that alone, we have to take them off the board. Who knows what damage they can do if we don't act now?"
"Elimination is not only expensive but can lead to future events we can't predict. What about an alliance with ... with this Smoke organization?" asked Sean.
"Negative. Some of OUR people were killed or detained in the purge. We don't believe that was accidental. I think we're the next targets. Or if not us directly then one of our pawns," said Coughlin. "It must be obvious to you what their next move is likely to be."
Sean could barely get the words out but he managed to eke out, "Take out the DVX's opposite number - the WSB."
"Given the scope and the organization of the operation against the DVX, I can only expect the same or better against our resources. Maybe the DVX was a trial run and the WSB was always the target," said Coughlin. "Connie suspects the same. She's making some changes."
"She knows about Smoke? Are you recruiting her?"
"No and no. She came to the same conclusion as we did on her own," said Coughlin. "A smart woman and a proven patriot. She could be a good addition to the Committee."
"Connie's not much of a team player or a strategist."
"Agreed. She's more tactical. I worked with her in Berlin. I know how much of a lone wolf she can be but she has excelled entirely on her own merits. A woman would be an asset," said Coughlin. "Women think naturally in the long view. It's a trick we men have had to learn and master."
Sean conceded, "She would bring a lot of expertise and loyalty to the ... the Committee."
"She's our best potential ally on the inside. The Bureau has evolved into a stabilizing force. Remove it and there will be a vacuum. Chaos whether from a war, famine, disease or natural disaster makes shifts in power more likely. We can't let that happen."
"I ... I was thinking that Smoke could be Faison's doing," said Sean.
"I doubt it."
"Why? He's planned some global operations in the past. His ambitions have always been bigger than himself or his reach," said Sean. "He's been quiet the last decade. That's never a good sign."
"Faison for all his brilliance is crippled by his nature. In this case, his obsessiveness with personal matters has blunted his ambitions and dulled his perceptions."
"His family started the Game. No one plays it better. You said so yourself."
"That's all true but I wrote out the Krieg family for three reasons. First, Faison doesn't have the disciplined focus and pure vision of those before him. He lacks the patience to see a plan to its end. Second, Faison is alone. Other than influence at the DVX, he had no other allies or resources. He has no family. No successor to pass the legacy on to. My last reason is you," said Coughlin.
"Me?"
Coughlin nodded. "The first Kriegs were formidable. From the grooming of one gullible Austrian corporal to a vision of global genocide, they never thought small. They used armies and nations as pawns on the chessboard. They developed propaganda into a weapon to call the innocent sheep to action. We couldn't touch them and they won the spoils free and clear. But you won for us by neutralizing Faison. I know it wasn't easy and I suspect I will never know what it cost you personally but you did it. After Brimstone, Faison was no longer that much of a factor. Sure, he could be a nuisance but like a wasp that stings not a dragon breathing fire. The Kriegs have had their day. It's over for them and for Faison."
"But-"
"Your assignment was to study everything we knew about the Kriegs. To think like them. To see things as they would. That allowed you to exploit Faison's weaknesses and succeed. To you, Faison is the only enemy. That's your training. But, Sean, Faison's out of it. He peddles mystery books doesn't he? That's not a threat," said Coughlin. "I picked a bad time and place to spring this on you. Think about it and let me know."
"I don't have to think about this. I know I can't take your place," said Sean.
"I won't say that I wouldn't prefer you to take over but if you don't want to, I do understand," said Coughlin. "But I need your help, Sean. I need fresh eyes on this and you're the only one outside of the Committee who knows as much about the Game as I do. You know most of the Legacy players. You know their behavior."
"I know you were grooming others besides me. Why can't they help?" asked Sean.
Coughlin bristled, "Because my deputy is gone courtesy of our new enemy. This whole thing is ... feels very personal to me."
"I see," said Sean.
"My son is an Air Force colonel stationed at the Pentagon. I was planning on introducing him into the Committee next year when he retires from active duty. Eventually, if worthy, he'll get my chair. There are a few others with potential in the younger ranks and some outsiders but no one knows everything like you do," said Coughlin. "Sean, the Committee is a band of aging war hawks who know first hand what war can do to a person, to a country. We want peace at any cost and we have done what we have had to do to assure that peace. Aside from this Smoke business, our most pressing task is deciding on our successors. It has not been easy. True patriots in my day were easier to find and to trust. Patriots like you, Sean."
The sound of a drumroll echoed through the air.
Sean looked around him. No one was around. "The show is starting. I've been gone too long."
Coughlin nodded. "Noon tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir." Sean executed a perfect military turn and walked towards the stairs and down into the lobby.
Maxie and Frisco stood side by side on the elevated dais microphones in hand by the auditorium doors.
Frisco cleared his throat and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the show!"
This was greeted by loud applause and hoots.
"Hello, everybody! Mayor and Mrs. Floyd, both supporters of the Arts in our city, were supposed to speak but they've been called away unexpectedly so you got me instead. I'll keep it short," said Frisco.
"Thank you!" came an anonymous voice in the crowd.
"Thank you for coming tonight and supporting the fine work of the first ever children's drama theater in Port Charles. The funds raised tonight will help to offset operating costs and provide for the development of some much-needed after school programs. The arts give our young people the opportunity to express themselves and discover talents that spring from within. We may be seeing professional homegrown talent on this stage in a few years. For that to happen our kids needs a chance. Let's give them that chance tonight!"
"The doors will be opening. There is a blue section and a red section. Just find a seat according to the color of the ticket you have," said Maxie. "Don't worry. I promise that every seat is the best seat in the house! You're going to love it!"
The ushers opened the doors and people streamed inside. Sections of chairs had been removed. From the main stage extended a long catwalk that ran nearly the length of the auditorium. Swatches of blue and red fabric were draped over each chair in each section. Two large monitors hung suspended above the main stage.
Maxie was right. There were no bad seats.
The Barn
The largest TV monitor displayed the recording of the day's Nascar race at Daytona Speedway. Several off duty team members relaxed playing cards, watching the race or browsing on their laptops. Despite the casual air of the room, each of them were prepared to spring to action at a second's notice.
Patrick handed the cue stick to Matt for his turn before turning to check on Emma who was on the brink of dozing in a pink baby bouncer.
"Thank Maxie for me will you. I forgot to tell her this morning," said Patrick.
Matt lined up a shot. "Okay. It was her idea."
"I know you could be at the fundraiser instead of keeping me company," said Patrick.
"I'm having a better time here." Matt pulled the stick back then let it go.
Crack.
The red ball dropped into the far corner pocket.
"Have you thought about Dad's offer?" asked Matt circling around the pool table deciding on his next shot.
"About joining him in Brazil for two weeks?" asked Patrick. "Tom says that a change of scene wouldn't hurt me. But Emma-"
"She's a baby, Patrick, not a toddler. She's not old enough to really miss you. She has her own fun zone here. There are plenty of people around to take care of her while you take care of you. I don't know how you can think when everywhere you look you see memories."
"But-"
Matt lined up another shot. He tried another tactic. "Your reaction to Robin was harsh."
Crack.
Another ball dropped.
"I'm not sorry. She had it coming," said Patrick.
"She didn't do those things out of free choice," said Matt.
"That's not an excuse."
"No but it is motivation. She's a survivor and she did what she had to," said Matt circling the table once more. "Eve could be pretty scrappy and opinionated."
"My wife was assertive. She was never cold and unfeeling. They are nothing alike."
"Good to know you're not confusing the two."
Patrick sighed. "No not anymore. That's not a problem."
"Then it's time to work on you. Take the two weeks and be reminded of why you became a doctor in the first place. Get back to grass roots medicine. As good as Dad is, you know the latest procedures."
"You mean it's a chance for me to save people and not feel useless like I was with Eve," said Patrick.
"Maybe a little bit. Sometimes when you have a lot on your mind, it helps to get away from the noise like responsibilities and expectations," said Matt. "Working yourself to exhaustion isn't the solution."
"That obvious? I'll think about it. Okay?"
Crack.
The last ball dropped into a far corner pocket.
"You got the hot hand tonight," said Patrick. "It's time to call it quits and go home." He took his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Matt. "Warm up my car whileI dress my little princess."
Matt sauntered out of the Barn. After a few steps, his cell phone chimed indicating a voice message. As he listened, Matt's happy mood dissolved little by little.
He shouted into the night in the loudest voice he had, "Damn it all!"
Frisco watched the crowds going into the room. He caught sight of Chase and Arnold speaking with Sean at the bottom of the lobby staircase. There was no greeting. No hand shakes. Their stance was casual and leaning towards each other. These were not strangers meeting for the first time.
Frisco's shoulders tensed. His eyes narrowed. He knew Sean's body language and physical tells. Sean's expression was stern and angry even if his body seemed relaxed.
Chase and Arnold said little. They seemed to listen intently to Sean before following the guests into the auditorium.
Sean put both hands on the railing and stared at the floor. Frisco could tell he was calming himself. Whatever was said upset Sean.
Sean looked up. His eyes met Frisco's.
Giles shook Mr. Hare's hand. Mr. Hare gave him a rare approving nod. Giles leaned down and placed a kiss on Augusta's upturned cheek.
"Hello, Giles," said Augusta.
"I am shocked that Uncle Elyot would let you go so far away," said Giles.
"It was not his decision." Augusta looked him up and down. "I must say the states must agree with you. You look well."
"It is not the place but the company and, of course, the purpose," replied Giles. "I have true direction for the first time in my life."
"I wish fervently that we were able to thank Jacques properly for his guidance. You were lost to us for so long," said Augusta. She took his arm. "Elyot wants you home but we do understand that you must be free before you are shackled to a lifetime of responsibility."
"I no longer see it as dire as that," said Giles. He began to lead them to the back of the theater.
"I thought we were meeting here," said Mr. Hare.
"A bit of misdirection is all. Follow me please," said Giles. He led them through the kitchen crowded with caterers and up the backstairs to the Writers' Room. "I believe you will be more at ease here." He used the remote control to turn the large monitors on. Direct feeds from the auditorium were displayed on one screen. On the other two screens intermittent images from various cameras flashed one by one.
He toggled through images on one monitor until it settled on a room with one small light shining down on a table with two chairs. "Please, watch with me."
"Watch what?" asked Augusta.
"Two individuals who are of high interest. Their organization is based in Milton Keynes. We want to know if you recognize them," said Giles.
"What is their affiliation?" asked Mr. Hare.
"Their organization is known to us at the Gem Group. Their expertise is in corporate espionage but they seem to have branched out," explained Giles.
"Of what interest is this to us other than proximity to the Court?"
"At this time, information only. It's a relative unknown which has unusual connections."
"Then it is of no interest. We are here to discuss Cesar Faison," said Mr. Hare.
"According to Anna's chessboard, the Gem Group is very much in the middle of things whether they are aware of that fact or not," said Giles.
"Anna Devane?" asked Augusta.
"Yes."
"Will we meet her?"
"Robert will be bringing her with him for your meeting."
"Acceptable."
Mr. Hare frowned. "Focus, please. What are these connections?"
"We have proof that the Gem Group did business with Doctor Peter Sinclair, Faison's cousin. Charlotte Devane was captured by Faison and by methods unknown she was delivered by the Gem Group to Sinclair for treatment," said Giles. "We know that Sinclair is aligned with Charlotte and Helena Cassadine. The Gem Group may lead us to our quarry. We also believe that the Gem Group may aspire to more ambition than is good for them or us. Does that satisfy you?"
"Quite." Hare walked to the tall windows and looked out.
Sean made to go into the auditorium. Frisco closed the gap between them.
"Are you all right, Sean? Were they bothering you?" asked Frisco.
"I worked with their fathers. They wanted to meet and tell war stories," said Sean. "You know what that's like."
"Are you upset at them or at the war stories?"
Sean was thoughtful, "The older I get, the more the little things irritate me. Tonight is the wrong time. I'm fine."
Frisco put a hand on Sean's arm. "We've known each other for too long. Why are you lying to me?"
Sean pulled away. "You're supposed to be avoiding anything that has to do with our former business. That's why I lied. For your own good. Why don't you deal with your own messy personal business? Family should ... should always come before the ... the job. Your family needs you and you should be there for them."
Frisco nodded chastened but not convinced. He led the way into the auditorium with his mind replaying all he had just seen and been told. Things didn't add up.
Chase and Arnold were approached by Raine and Alys before they could reach their seats. After a nod and a knowing look, the men followed the women to a short hallway to the side of the stage. Lars opened a door and they descended down stone steps accompanied by a lantern. The women were sure-footed but the men took care to not stumble. There were no bannisters to hold on to.
"You look familiar," said Arnold to Alys.
"Imagine me with a feather duster," replied Alys.
"The hotel maid. That was you?"
"Yes."
"You had no tells at all. Very convincing."
"Practice makes perfect."
Raine took the lead down a narrow corridor with old, rough stone walls on either side.
"We know Ms. Trimble. May we know your name?" asked Chase.
"I'm no one at all," said Alys.
"I can't place the accent," said Arnold.
"Of my accents, I like this one best," replied Alys.
Raine laughed softly. Alys was an old hand at misdirection games and she had the best poker face Raine had ever seen.
The men tried leading questions to find out Alys' identity but the women deflected and redirected each question. The group took several turns in rapid succession. As intended the combination of the questions, the turns and the dim light confused the men's sense of direction. They reached a thick metal door that swung on creaking hinges.
CLICK.
A fluorescent bulb descending down a chain illuminated the center of a medium sized room. Instead of stone, metal plates lined the wall, the floor and the ceiling. Under the light was a weathered table with two iron chairs facing each other.
"Have a seat please," said Raine.
Chase and Arnold placed their cellular phones on the table before taking their seats.
"It's all right. Keep them," said Raine. She gestured to the walls and floors. "The lead is at least three inches thick. No signal. Besides, we've made sure that your electronic devices won't work in here shielding or no."
Raine flipped a switch on the wall. An audible hum sounded. The ladies departed.
Chase strained to hear beyond the constant hum. "You think we're under the theater?"
"No clue. I got lost even before the turns," admitted Arnold trying to get comfortable in his chair.
Chase looked around and chuckled. "Lead-lined rooms went out with the Cold War. Talk about paranoid."
"Um, Chase, try moving … in your chair," said Arnold.
Chase pushed against the arm rest. His back and derriere felt glued to the unmoving chair. In fact, his entire body was feeling heavier than normal. "Ugh! What the … I can't move!"
"I can barely lift my feet off the floor. This is amazing," said Arnold.
"This is … is serious, Arn," said Chase cured of any lingering sarcasm.
Arnold's inner geek marveled, "What technology is this?"
"Just one of my favorite things, Mr. Masters, Mr. Vandenberg," said Robert strolling in. He didn't seem to have any problem moving about the room. He leaned on one side of the table and looked at the two younger men. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same about you and the Gem Group. To be perfectly honest, I don't like you. I don't like anything about your organization. Most of all, I don't like the fact that you can't take a hint. I haven't decided if you two are being deliberately dense or just foolish. Which is it?"
Chase managed to say, "P-p-persistent."
"Why do you persist?" asked Robert circling the table. "What's the point? The punchline?"
"We could help each other, sir."
"I suppose there are advantages to having some additional help whether it's spying on my children, accepting shipments from Peter Sinclair or having Tim Sidwell murdered," said Robert. He noticed Arnold start at the mention of Sinclair and Chase winced at the last. "I thought corporate espionage was your forte. When did you diversify into biochemical weapons and assassinations?"
Silence.
"Assassinations are so messy. I prefer something clean, silent and undetectable myself." Standing behind Arnold's chair, Robert's voice lowered to a deep rasp and gripped Arnold's shoulder. His stared hard at Chase. "We know you. Don't ever forget that. Here's some free advice. Do not aggravate me. Do not stand in my way. And, the most important thing, don't ever target my family and friends for any reason. Are we clear?"
Both men nodded.
"Gentlemen, I hope it's been informative for you. We will not be doing this again." Robert opened the door and Lars stepped in. There were two other guards hovering just outside the door. Robert turned and looked at the two men stuck in their chairs then he snapped his fingers twice.
Instantly the humming stopped. Chase and Arnold felt lighter as if a heavy weight had been lifted off them. As they tried to stand, their legs shook.
"Mr. Gershwin, escort our guests back to the lobby. Enjoy the show, gentlemen," said Robert as he strode out without looking back.
Sean sat down alone in one of the sumptuously appointed box seats close to the stage. The box itself was unlit and the darkness suited his mood. It had the best view overlooking nearly the full catwalk. The beat of the music was infectious putting the audience in a party mood. The amateur models made the most of the opportunity vamping and acting out as they pirouetted and strutted up then down the catwalk. Flashbulbs went off from all over the vast room. The bright gaiety below was a contrast to his dark mood.
He knew that Tiffany, Felicia, Maxie and Anna were coming later in the rotation. He sat back in the chair and fully relaxed. His breathing was rapid and shallow. His mask fell. Worry and strain were etched across his features. He didn't bother to hide his shaking hands.
His mind was filled with a lifetime of memories and emotions with Tiffany, Belle and the true friends he'd never expected to have. How could he ensure their safety? How could he give them up? How could he not?
"Think! Your life depends on it. Think," murmured Sean. He closed his eyes imagining thread after thread of possibilities. Some threads intertwined with others and grew longer. Some stood alone and shriveled to nothing in isolation. One burned steadily brighter and brighter until it ignited the rest. Sean's eyes opened. "Robert has to be stopped. That's the only way."
"YOU! It's your FAULT!" came a loud male voice that echoed through the auditorium.
Sean was ripped out of his meditation. He sprung to his feet and looked over the railing.
Mayor Floyd strode along the side of the catwalk finger pointed at an astonished Tom Hardy modeling chinos and a Franchi label sports shirt. With his blond good looks and lanky frame, the doctor seemed at home on the runway. Andrea Floyd ran after her husband exhorting him to calm down and not make a scene.
"My niece is dead because of the negligence of YOUR hospital!" yelled Floyd.
"Mayor Floyd, your niece was very ill and-" began Tom.
The mayor climbed up some steps and on to the catwalk. He kept yelling while approaching Tom. "She's not the only one is she?"
"We don't discuss confidential information with-"
At the side of the stage, Monica scrambled up the short stairs with Edgar right behind her. She yelled, "Stop this! Stop right now!"
Floyd addressed the crowd. "There's something you all need to know! Something HE doesn't want anyone to know!"
"What are you talking about?!" asked Tom on the verge of losing his temper.
"It's a cover up! It's not General Hospital! It's the Hospital of Death!" cried the mayor. "My niece isn't the only VICTIM!"
A furious Monica glanced at a pale Tom. They both knew what the mayor had to be talking about. She faced off against Floyd. "Mr. Mayor, these are serious allegations that should rightly be addressed to the hospital board."
"Why? So you can continue the cover up? I don't think so," said the mayor. He addressed the crowd. "Do you see how high the cover up goes?!" He looked at Monica and said loudly, "Why are the Quartermaines involved? What's in it for you?"
Edgar slipped behind the mayor and put a discreet arm lock on him. He whispered silkily. "You should listen to the lady. Quiet or I break your arm."
The mayor lowered the volume of his voice but he did not stop talking to Monica. Edgar led him backstage and freed him.
The mayor sneered at Edgar, "I'm going to press charges."
Edgar ignored the mayor and turned to Monica. "Are you all right?"
Monica gave Edgar a small smile, "Yes, thank you. I just need to catch my breath."
Edgar grinned. "You are certainly a woman of conviction."
Monica said in a low voice, "The mayor's a bully. He backs down if you stand up to him."
"I demand to meet with the Board of Directors. This is a matter of public safety," bellowed the mayor.
"I will call a meeting for tomorrow at eleven. You can make any accusations you want then," said Monica.
"Facts, Monica, not accusations," replied the mayor. Mrs. Floyd tugged at his arm and he finally gave in and they stalked away.
Tom walked up to Monica. "I'll see if Lucky or Alvin can attend the meeting."
"Yes. It has to come out out. Never thought it would be like this. With the insurance audit coming up, the timing is horrible," said Monica. "But he's right. It is a matter of public safety. We would be really negligent if-"
"I'm not sure he's going to be so eager to expose it once he realizes HE prevented the PCPD from investigating fully when they put a proposal to the council," said Tom.
Monica snorted. "Politicians can spin anything to their favor. I'm going to see if Matt can come, too."
"What about Anna?"
Monica shook her head. "Not yet. We have to keep this as contained to the hospital as much as possible. Anna's involvement has to be confidential, especially from the Board."
"Ah, I see," said Tom. "They wouldn't understand the … the irregularities of Anna and Robert's involvement."
"Maybe if one of them was police commissioner or Mac was still. There could be a defensible reason but not now," said Monica. "There's Robin, too. I think … I know that she can't be exposed just yet. We have to keep their assistance and influence to ourselves for as long as possible."
"I see dating a spy is rubbing off on you," teased Tom.
"You are a natural," said Edgar. "A very fast thinker but with a temper. I like it."
"Stop it, you two," said a blushing Monica. "I just did what had to be done."
Ural Mountains, Russia
Two herders tramped up the hillside plain. Their three dogs ran in circles around a group of hardy mountain goats. The two men reached a short plateau that with the open sky on one side and the sheer mountainside on the other. The grizzled man in brown furs turned his back to the mountainside. He stared at his goats. The other man, clean shaven but dressed in black furs, dropped a roll of currency in the other man's pocket then patted him on the shoulder before trudging up to the rock face.
He pushed at an outcrop then reached behind it. His hand went straight to the location of a small metal lever. He pulled the lever towards him then back in again. He waited.
In a few minutes, a portion of the rock face slid aside revealing a low door. He crouched low and entered. The dimness extended for two meters. As he walked, he recited a German nursery rhyme which sounded very much like the English version that starts "if you're happy and you know it …"
"Wenn Du glücklich bist, dann klatsche in die Hand."
The man clapped his hands three time slowly.
"Wenn Du glücklich bist, dann klatsche in die Hand!"
The man clapped his hands twice rapidly.
"Zeig mir, wenn Du bei mir bist, wie Dir so zumute ist.
Wenn Du glücklich bist, dann klatsche in die Hand!"
The next series of claps came from a tall, middle-aged woman with brown hair and clear blue eyes. She held a hand out and said in a heavy Teutonic accent, "Guten morgen, Herr Krieg."
Cesar Faison smiled and replied in smooth German, "It has been a very, very long time, Professor. You have hardly changed."
The professor smiled back. "We would be poor scientists if we did."
Faison reached towards her face, "With your permission?"
"Yes, Herr Krieg."
Faison cupped her face with his two hands. With intense concentration, he studied her face. She made no move to stop him. "I did not want to hope too much but this is incredible." He turned her face to the left then released her. "How do you feel?"
"Grateful, Herr Krieg, for the honor of being one of the first ones."
"Then, Professor von der Recke, I consider the price my father paid to smuggle you and the others out of Lubyanka Prison a worthy investment," said Faison removing his coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall.
"We have waited to break our fast today until you could be with us. Come. The others are eager to speak with you."
"And I with them. We have much to celebrate, discuss and plan."
"If I may ask, why have you waited nineteen years to visit us?"
"I lost my way. I stopped believing. I thought my destiny lay elsewhere," said Faison. "I am now as you remember me. I am more certain of my purpose than ever before. My vision is sharp. I am ready to reach for new lasting glory."
The professor said proudly, "Seig heil Krieg!"
The corner of Faison's mouth curled. "To victory in our Game and to meeting destiny on MY terms!"