Casie Schwartzshrieked and turned to see her fiancé, Secret Service Special Agent in ChargeEugene Kaufman.
"Oh my god,"she said, gasping. "Don't ever do that again!" Eugenewas laughing so hard, NatalieSchultz could picture his headrolling across the floor, still laughing. She grimaced as she pushed thedisturbing image out of her mind. "That is not funny!"
Eugene held up his hands in surrender as he stopped laughing. "Alright, I'msorry. Really, I am." He looked around the room. "So this is Kenneth Wilkinson'shome? Well, was. Seeing as he's dead, now."
"Not funny," Casiegrowled at Eugene'sattempt of lightening up.
But Natalie wasn't paying attention. Something wasn'tright. Something was very wrong. Footsteps fell heavily on the beautiful hardwoodfloors. Natalie didn't see anyone onthe first floor. All of the technicians had packed up and left a while ago. Thepress had died down a little, too. Nataliesuddenly felt very afraid.
"Eugene!Casie!" she warned, but it was too late. Nataliesmelled it before she saw it. "Get out! Poison gas!" She waved her arms franticallyat the two lovers, who immediately madetheir way towards the exit. The three of them ran outside, warning theofficers, agents, and reporters still there. Natalieturned, then, and she felt the ground quake.
"Back!" Natalie screamed. "Explosives! The house! Explode!Away!"
Time stoppedfor a moment as an enormous fireball engulfed the entire house, and then disappeared,leaving nothing behind except ashes.
Dimitri Youngbloodwalked back to the hotel, feeling very much satisfied and powerful. They'vegot a nice surprise waiting for them. Timed firebomb. Gas, combustion,explosion. Perfect. All of the calculations he had performed himself. Dimitri was proud of his education, although he didn'tflaunt it much. It was better if people underestimated him. Leverage. Everythingwas about leverage. If you hold the leverage, you hold the power.
Dimitri imagined the surprise and shock his former girlfriend would haveupon finding his identity-that is, if she was smart enough to figure it out. Oh,she was plenty smart, after all, the FBI had hired her, but then again, well,this was Dimitri's twenty-fifth job, and as of yet, he hadn't even beenidentified. He imagined in his mind the dismay she might have upon finding thenote he had left-the note he had left just for her.
"Sir?" Dimitri snapped out of his thoughts.
"Yes?" He smiledat the pretty young lady.
"Sir, do youhave a reservation?"
"I checked inthis afternoon. DavidMarshal." Idiot, he thoughtto himself.
The receptionistnodded. "Of course. Now I remember. Room 243, right?"
Dimitri's smile disappeared. Now she knew where he was staying. Bad. He didn'trespond, but kept walking nonchalantly towards the elevator. On the way up, heread the poster tacked hastily on the elevator wall.
FBI Ten MostWanted Fugitive: Murder (108 counts), Arson (3 counts). Treali Storm. Four images stood side by side. One was an artist's rendering, onean enhanced photograph, one a school photograph, and the last, a surveillance camerafreeze-frame. Dimitri smiled, feelingvery much empowered. Yes, a woman like Storm was very appealing to him. Not caughtin forty-five years, although definitely identified. But that made her evenmore brilliant-identified, well-known, but neither caught nor sighted in overthirty years. Very interesting indeed.
The elevatorgot off on his floor, and he made his way to his room. He slid open the doorand stopped short when he saw the two women sitting on his bed. One was hisemployer; one was Treali Storm.
"Close thedoor," the taller woman, his employer ordered. "We need to talk. Now."
<a href=http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977215079&nav=Namespace>Part Seven</a>
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Comments: 14
Still thinking of the Kenneth kill...maybe his gun misfires? Another suggestion.