Adventures of Lyta Part 5 of ---(WIP)

 
   Criticism is welcomed. Address criticisms to [xazqrten@cox.net]

******************************

   Sitting in the seat across from the young man who had been sent to meet her, 
Lyta couldn't help noticing that he kept staring at her.

   "Is something wrong?" she asked.

   "No ma'am," replied her young escort.

   "You keep staring at me. I'm beginning to feel like a fish in a bowl."

   "I'm sorry. I just never expected to meet you in person."

   "Harry, would you mind explaining that?"

   "It's like this, Miss Alexander. I was just starting college when the 
telepath war happened. My friends and I watched every newscast we could, trying 
to follow the war. We didn't know what it was all about, but we fell in love 
with the beautiful redhead that kept popping up on the newscasts. That was you. 
I think all of us had a crush on you. I don't think any of us ever expected to 
meet you."

   "I hope I haven't been a disappointment."

   "No ma'am. You're even better than in the newscasts."

   "How old are you, Harry?"

   Blushing, he replied, "I just turned twenty. I can't legally order a drink 
yet."

   Quick subtraction told Lyta that she was old enough to be his mother. "You 
give nice complements, Harry. How is it you finished college so young?"

   He blushed even more at her statement. "I haven't. I’m part of a co-op 
education program. We go to school for a semester and the work for the company 
for a semester. Each time we work for the company, we work in a different 
department or division."

******************************

   "It's quite a nice apartment, Harry. I was expecting to be staying in the 
one I used a few weeks ago. Is there something wrong with that one?"

   "I don't know, Miss Alexander. Which one did you stay in before?"

   "It was number 301."

   Harry walked over to a computer/communications station and made some 
entries. Looking at the results on the display, he said, "According to this, 
Miss Alexander, it's being renovated."

   "Then, that answers my question. I just hope Michael and Robert don't expect 
me to spring for the difference in rent."

   "It isn't costing you anything, Miss Alexander."

   "Well, I hate to run you off, but I need a shower, and then I need to see 
Robert Bryson."

   "You should try his apartment first, Miss Alexander. It's past quitting time 
for us minions."

   "Harry, you and your friends never expected to meet me. Do you still have 
classes with them?"

   "Yes Ma'am."

   "I'm going to give you something to talk about the next time you see them."

   Lyta stepped very close to the young man. Harry's heartbeat increased, as 
did his breathing. Lyta put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the 
cheek and his knees started to feel weak. He put his arms around her and pulled 
her up against him. She kissed him on the mouth and gave him the telepath 
feedback treatment. She had to help keep him on his feet as his knees buckled. 
Releasing him, she said in a husky voice, "Now you have something to tell them."

   Harry just breathed very hard as his heart rate shot up to three times 
normal.

   "I think you should go now, Harry. I don't think you're ready for this," 
Lyta noted casually.

   Slowly regaining his composure, he said, "I've never been kissed like that 
before."

   "Consider it something to remember me by."

   Harry managed to navigate out the door and down the passageway. Lyta hoped 
that kiss hadn't ruined him for the girls he would kiss in the future.

   She had lowered her mental shields and examined the thoughts Harry had been 
thinking during the kiss. He was genuine, and had been sent by his boss, the 
public relations director, to pick her up and put her in this room. She would 
visit the fellow in the morning.

*********************************************

In Bryson's office that evening:

   "Are you trying to make points with Michael?"

   "Not at all, Lyta. I don't have a family or girl friend, so I spend a great 
deal of time here. I get a lot of work done after everyone else leaves."

   "How long have you been doing this routine?"

   "Ever since Mike took over the corporation. He more or less cleaned house, 
and I got this position. We had known one another from when he first dated 
Lise. That was a long time ago. We met again during the civil war and that is 
pretty much it."

   "You have the data I requested?"

   "Of course. You don't waste much time." He handed her two data crystals.

   "I'll look these over tonight and get with you tomorrow. I'm going to have 
to go to Earth."

   "Don't they still have warrants out for your arrest?"

   "Yes, and I’m going to make that work for me before it's all over."

   "May I ask just what you're going to do?"

   "Not much really. I plan to gather further information from the people 
listed on these crystals and make some changes in the health of some of them. 
With others, I might just have an intense philosophic discussion. I figure it 
will take me a couple of months to meet and assess them all, taking appropriate 
action for each of them."

   "I'll have my staff start making travel arrangements first thing in the 
morning. How are you going to get to Earth, since your shuttle is undergoing 
modification?"

   "Simple, I'll go on commercial carriers. Lyta Alexander, attaché to the 
Glenthorian ambassador, isn't wanted on Earth. Even if they arrest me, which 
I'll make sure they do at the appropriate time, I'll have diplomatic immunity. 
Therefore, they’ll have to release me. The worst that can happen is that I’ll 
have to leave Earth and that is no longer a big deal."

   "Well, if there isn't anything else, I'll see you sometime tomorrow morning."

   "There is one thing, Bob. I was put into room 223 instead of 301; the one I 
used a couple of weeks ago. The kid who picked me up at Mars Port checked the 
computer file and said the room was being renovated. Room 223 is loaded with 
monitoring devices. I located the control room for the devices."

   "That room was built by, and for William Edgars. Mike gave orders for it, or 
at least the equipment, to be dismantled and removed. Apparently someone didn't 
follow orders, and then lied about it. The room was reported to be free of 
monitoring devices more than two years ago. I remember because I relayed the 
orders and received the reports."

   "I won't kill anyone, but you won't have any trouble identifying the guilty 
parties."

   "We have some stringent rules and nasty punishments for those types of 
things, since we became independent. I’ll see to the guilty persons being 
prosecuted."

   "In that case, goodnight, Bob."

******************************

In Lyta's room later that night:

   Lyta went into the bathroom and started running a hot bath. She had reached 
out with her senses and trashed the devices that were monitoring her. Whoever 
was in the control room must be going nuts watching displays fail as Lyta came 
into view and then start working when she was out of view. She just knew they 
were probably troubleshooting their hearts out.

   Lyta was about to go to sleep when she decided to learn who was doing the 
monitoring. She relaxed and let her senses expand outward. She felt the 
thoughts she was searching for in only a minute. They originated from a room in 
the basement of the building. She was surprised to find that they belonged to 
the Assistant Head of Security for Edgar's Industries, the same guy who was 
responsible for her to being put in this room. The other thoughts belonged to 
his trusted monitor operator. It only took a minute to fix both men. She even 
took the time to destroy the lock on the door to their room. They would have to 
call for help to get out.  

******************************

Public Relations Director's office 1000 hours the next day:

   "What can I do for you, Miss Alexander?" asked Phil Hodges, Public Relations 
Director for Edgar's Industries.

   "Your young man put me into room 223 instead of 301, the one I stayed in 
before. Was there any particular reason?"

   "Not that I’m aware of. I received a call from Marty Golf, our Assistant 
Security Manager. He thought it would be better to put you in the VIP Suite 
rather than one of our standard rooms, since you were by definition a VIP."

   Lyta smiled, "I think he fibbed to you. I’m anything but a VIP. Mostly, I'm 
persona non-grata. Thank you for your time."

   "I heard that he and one of his workers were found locked in a basement room 
in less than stellar condition."

   "I hope they're okay," said Lyta with sincerity.

   "They're just embarrassed," laughed Hodges.

******************************

In Bryson's office 1100 hours:

   Lyta walked down the aisle toward Bob Bryson's office. She noted that there 
must be a hundred employees busy in cubicles in the large open work area. Lyta 
also noted that the woman sitting at the desk located just outside Bryson's 
office, obviously his secretary, was dressed in very loose fitting clothing 
which hid any feminine features she might have. Her hair was styled in a severe 
manner that almost made her look like a man, except that there was no hair on 
her face. Lyta wondered what she would look like in a decent dress and a better 
hairstyle, but let the thought fade away. She noticed that the nameplate on the 
woman's desk indicated her name was Mrs. Wiseman. [That's odd. Most people 
would have their first name on the plate,] thought Lyta.

   Beverly Wiseman, becoming aware of someone standing on the other side of her 
desk, looked up into a pair of dark eyes that looked like they were bottomless 
black pools, and noted that the woman was dressed in a well- tailored black 
outfit consisting of snug fitting trousers, shirt and leather vest. Flawless 
smooth skin and flaming copper-colored hair tied into a ponytail topped off her 
appearance. Beverly would have sworn the woman was no older than maybe late 
twenties, thirty tops.

   "May I be of assistance?" asked Beverly.

   "I'm here to see Mister Bryson."

   "Do you have an appointment?" 

   "No, but he is expecting me. Please let him know Lyta Alexander is here to 
see him."

   Beverly spoke into the phone mike she was wearing and a moment later Bob 
Bryson opened his office door. "Come on in, Lyta. You're earlier than I 
expected."

   As Lyta entered Bryson's office, she felt very strong emotions from Beverly 
Wiseman. She lowered her mental barriers and 'listened' to the woman's thoughts 
and got a real surprise.

   She learned that Beverly had two children and that she thought Bryson would 
be good husband and father material. She also learned that the woman had given 
up any hope in that area because Bryson never dated or went out with anyone, 
man or woman. Lyta had met Bryson at Michael's over dinner. Apparently, that 
was the extent of his social life. She wondered why. He was handsome by 
anyone's standards, he was intelligent and didn't seem to be the type to let 
the little things worry him. She decided to dig into it when they were on 
Earth. While there, he would be a captive subject.

   "Did you learn who was responsible for the monitoring of my room?"

   "Oh yes. We found them in the monitor room in the basement. I must say you 
have a wicked sense of humor. How long will it be until they regain control of 
their bladders and bowels?"

   "A week or so. Was I too rough?"

   Laughing out loud, Bryson responded, "Not at all. It’s most appropriate. Now 
I have to find a new assistant security manager."

   "You won't have to look very far."

   "Do you have someone in mind?

   "No. It is just a feeling."

   Lyta and Bryson spent most of the rest of the day going over travel 
arrangements and methods that would yield the best results for Lyta on her 
Earth tour. Lyta questioned a side trip to a small town just outside San 
Francisco. Bryson explained that was where the surprise Michael had mentioned 
was located.

   "I’ll have the reservations remade using different names. I think you’re 
being too paranoid, but I do remember the fiasco with the thunderbolts."

   "Just remember, it's not for my safety. It's for yours."

    As Lyta shook hands and said goodbye to Bryson, Beverly reassessed her 
earlier estimate of her. She might look like she was in her late twenties, but 
her poise and mannerisms, which most men would miss, spoke of someone very much 
older. At least forty, if a day, was Beverly's new estimate. She wished she 
could carry her age as well, but at thirty-five she looked at least thirty.

   "Envious, Mrs. Wiseman?"  asked Bryson.

   "No sir, not really," she replied.

   "For your information, she's about forty-five or so."

   Beverly never responded; she was too astonished.

******************************

Outside the Kennedy Spaceport in New York City:

   "It's been a while since I've been on Earth," noted Lyta.

   "How long is a while?"

   "Almost nine years. The last time I was here, I was a Psi Corps prisoner. It 
doesn't bring back pleasant memories."

   "I thought you were here during the telepath war?"

   "That doesn’t count. That was a war, not a visit."

   "Oh."

   "Lets go get checked into our hotel. Then we have a number of people to find 
and see."

   New York hadn't changed a bit since she had last been here, but then she 
hadn't been here in a tourist capacity. The buildings still formed concrete 
canyons, and there were still crushing crowds moving along the sidewalks. She 
wondered if they would ever find a way to reduce the traffic. For a city that 
had a shortage of parking space, it certainly had an abundance of vehicles.

   The building housing the hotel covered an entire city block, and reached 
more than a hundred stories into the gray sky. The top floors were hidden in a 
misty fog.

   "Mister Bowers, your room is ready. You and your wife can take elevator 
number six. It is an express to the fortieth floor, then becomes a local. The 
bellboy will show you the way and see to your luggage. Enjoy your stay."

   Bryson paid off the bellboy and went into the luxurious bathroom. He called 
to Lyta, "I don't know about you, dear, but I need a shower after the trip."

   [Dear?] Thought Lyta. Then she scanned for monitoring devices. The suite was 
clean. "Take your time, but don't use all the hot water."

   Ten minutes later Bryson came out of the bathroom. "It's all yours, 
sweetheart."  

   [Sweetheart? Dear?] "What's this with the sweetheart and dear thing, Bob? 
And, why are we sharing a suite?"

   "No one will be looking for Lyta Alexander and a husband."

   "Don't get carried away with the portrayal."

   "Not a snowball's chance in hell." 

   Lyta opted for a bath followed by a rinse down shower. She didn't realize 
that Bryson could see her as she put on her clean underwear.

   "You should close bathroom doors, Lyta. I can see you."

   "Haven't you ever seen a woman put on her underwear before?"

   "Not in a very, very long time. Don't worry though, I'm not offended. After 
all, you’re easy on the eyes."

   Walking out of the bathroom, she said, "Just for that you can take me to 
lunch, after we make our first contact."

******************************

   The building known as "The Empire State Building" had been built in the 
early twentieth century, in just over four hundred days. That it was still 
standing and being used bore testament to the quality of materials and 
workmanship that had gone into building it. The offices that Lyta and Bob were 
looking for were located on the fiftieth floor.

   Lyta and Bob walked up to a receptionist and asked to see James Carollo. 

   When asked if they had an appointment, Lyta convinced the woman that they 
indeed had an appointment. It took only a few minutes for them to find 
Carollo's office. Lyta convinced the executive secretary that they had an 
appointment with her boss and took a seat to wait. Bryson took a seat on the 
side of the waiting area opposite from Lyta. He noticed that she was 
concentrating on something. When she got up and looked over the area around the 
secretary's desk, Bryson began to wonder.

   "I'm afraid I'll have to make another appointment with Mister Carollo. I 
have another engagement that won't wait," she said to the secretary, as she 
turned and started walking away. Bryson hurried to catch up to her.

   "I thought you would need to actually get sight of him?"

   "Don't think or talk, Bob. Take me to lunch."

   They left the offices in silence.

******************************

   The restaurant that Bryson had taken her to was one of the thousands of 
little family places that abound in New York. She was going to get to compare a 
different style of Italian cooking to Garibaldi's.

   Lyta carefully inspected her surroundings. It was a small intimate 
restaurant. The wall colors were somewhat muted, giving the place an atmosphere 
of age. Close examination revealed that the paintings on the wall were painted 
using the fresco method. The aged appearance was from exposure to tobacco 
smoke. The tables and booths sported red and white checkerboard pattern 
tablecloths. Lyta felt the tablecloth and realized that it was real cotton 
cloth, or at least one hell of a facsimile. What she could see of the place was 
spotless.

   "Is this someplace special or what?"

   "I didn't just pick it out of the diners registry, Lyta. This place is, 
believe it or not, owned and operated by one of Michael's cousins. He swears by 
the food."

   "We'll learn soon enough if he is just blowing smoke."

   An older woman wearing an apron appeared next to their table ready to take 
their order. "You wish to order now?"

   "Yes ma'am," answered Lyta. "I'd like a glass of white wine now and the 
house specialty."

   "Same for me ma'am," offered Bryson.

   "Do you want a particular wine or will the house wine do?"

   "Michael said your house wine is excellent. It’ll do just fine," replied 
Bryson.

   "You know cousin Michael?"

   Bryson smiled, "He's my boss."

   She looked at Lyta. 

   "Michael and I are old and dear friends," noted Lyta

   "The holy virgin knows he needs them. He leads a dangerous life," commented 
the lady, turning to go and prepare their order.

   After the woman had walked away, Bryson asked, "We didn't even wait long 
enough to see the guy."

   "I didn't need to. I picked a image of him from his secretary's mind then I 
scanned his office. He was meeting with one of his cohorts in crime. I did a 
scan on both of them and learned some interesting tidbits of information. I'll 
share them with you after we finish lunch. I don't want to spoil a good meal."

   Forty minutes later they were standing outside the small restaurant. Bryson 
noticed that Lyta had gotten a far away look in her eyes.

******************************

   In the Carollo Offices, James Carollo and his lieutenant were leaving for 
lunch. They were passing his secretary's desk as the phone rang. She called to 
him, "Mister Carollo. It’s Gene Taylor."

   He turned quickly, saying, "I'll take it here." As he was turning, he fell 
and struck his left temple on the sharp corner of his secretary's desk. There 
was a sickening crunch as his head made contact with the desk, and he fell 
heavily on the carpeted floor. His body shuddered convulsively twice, then he 
was still.

   His lieutenant hastened to feel for a pulse. There was none. "Better call 
the coroner and police, Miss Dell. Mister Carollo is dead."
 
******************************

Back in front of the restaurant:

   After almost two minutes, Bryson asked "Are you alright, Lyta?"

   Realizing he was addressing her, she replied, "I'm just fine. I had 
something in mind that I had to resolve."

   Bryson hailed a taxi.

   They managed to visit four more offices before the afternoon turned into 
evening.

   At supper, Bryson asked, "We never even got to see one of the people on your 
list."

   "I saw them. I got what I needed."

   "You aren't going to tell me what’s really going on, are you?"

   "You can't repeat what you don't know, nor can a telepathic scan discover it 
either."

   He hated to admit she had a valid point. He just didn't like being kept in 
the dark.

******************************

   Bryson had finished his shower and was lying on his bed watching the news 
channel. Lyta was enjoying a hot bath. As he watched the news, Bryson's 
attention was caught by a report of a fatal accident that was reported as a bit 
bizarre. When he realized what it was about he said, "Record present story for 
playback." The recorder in the video unit recorded the story.

   He watched the remainder of the newscast then switched the channel. He 
pondered what he had just learned and wondered how she had done it. If the 
reporter was correct, the guy had bought it at the same time they were standing 
in front of the Italian restaurant.

   Fifteen minutes later Lyta, wearing pajamas, exited the bathroom.

   Bryson said, "I recorded a news story. I think you will find it interesting."

   Sitting down on her bed and continuing to towel her hair, she replied, "Play 
it back."

   As the story was replayed, Lyta said, "I'll be damned. I can think of a lot 
of ways to check out, but tripping on my shoelaces isn't one that comes to 
mind."

   "Did you have anything to do with it?"

   "Bob, we were on the other side of the city when that happened. I may be a 
really strong telepath, but that is a bit out of my league."

   "I remember how we got here the last time I traveled with you. I don't think 
something like that would even begin to make you break a sweat. You phased out 
on me for almost two minutes while we were standing in front of the restaurant."

   "Believe what you will. Even if I had done it, I'd like to see someone try 
and prove it."

   Bryson looked carefully at Lyta and realized that she was even scarier than 
he had first thought. He wondered if Michael even had a clue. Odds were he 
didn't.

   "You would be wrong, Bob. Michael has a very good idea," noted Lyta.

   "I don't appreciate being scanned," he said testily.

   "I didn't scan you. Your thoughts were so strong, I could hear them through 
my blocks. If you wonder how, it's simple. I lower my blocks to check for 
danger. What isn't commonly known is that a telepath doesn't have to do an 
active scan to hear someone's thoughts. And since we’re alone, I don't even 
have to try and sort them out."

   "You scare the hell out of me, Lyta."

   "Why? Are you planning to kill me or worse? You have nothing to fear from 
me, Bob. I've been listening to your thoughts ever since I first met you. 
You’re a decent sort of man. Dedicated and trustworthy, maybe to a fault. One 
thing that puzzles me though, is why you don't have a social life? Having a 
dinner with the boss doesn't count."

   "It is a personal matter, Lyta. I don't want to talk about it."

   Lyta was listening to his thoughts and feeling his emotions. Bryson was in a 
lot of pain. Just talking about the idea of a social life had elicited an 
intensely painful reaction in his mind.

   "I may be able to help you, Bob, if you'll let me."

   "I don't see how. What do you know about death, Lyta. Huh? Have you ever 
seen someone one minute and the next find yourself looking at what appears to 
be red jam with crushed flesh and bones imbedded in it?"

   "I am very familiar with death in forms that would make a buzzard puke up 
last weeks meals. Do you want me to show you?"

   That statement got Bryson's undivided attention. Lyta looked at him and 
closed her eyes.

   Bob Bryson's vision shifted. He was no longer in their hotel room. He was 
standing inside a life support equipped room. He didn't know where it was, but 
the smell left no doubt about it being in a hospital. There was a young man, in 
what he recognized as a ranger uniform, lying on the bed. As he watched, the 
scene shifted, and the young man was standing beside the bed looking down at 
himself. Lyta was standing on the other side of the bed. She was waiting for 
something from the young ranger. He began to tell her about people needing 
help. As he spoke, Bryson became aware of a doorway that hadn't existed a 
moment before opening behind the ranger. As the ranger talked he moved toward 
the doorway. In a few moments he stepped into the doorway and was drawn into 
it. The doorway slammed shut, and Bryson became aware of the hotel room again.

   "What in God's name was that?" he asked, shivering uncontrollably.

   "You asked me what I knew about death. What you saw was my experience of 
being in that young ranger's mind when he died. Don't ask me about the door or 
anything else. I can only explain it as being how our minds perceive death."

   "How many more of these little bone jarring memories do you have?"

   "More than you can possibly imagine. Let me help you? Please?"

   "Let me think about it?"

   "As you wish."

******************************

   It was 0100 when Lyta became aware of a whimpering sound coming from 
Bryson's bed. She wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't had her senses on 
alert for danger. Since they were going to be in New York for at least four 
days, anyone wanting to attempt a hit on her would have a stationary target. 
She listened to the whimpering for almost a minute before she decided to 
examine its cause. Bryson would never know what she was going to do.

   Lyta gently touched Bryson's mind. The pain there almost made her recoil. 
Steeling herself, she began to look at what his mind was doing. It became 
obvious that he was having a terrible nightmare. She kept sifting around until 
she could get a grip on the images. 

   Bryson's subconscious had him in the grip of something that was extremely 
painful. Lyta found herself looking at a very vivid and detailed image of what 
must have once been a human being or maybe more than one Human. What she was 
looking at was more like red jelly with pieces of bones protruding from the 
mess. It would take DNA testing to ever determine who it had been. She saw 
Bryson off to one side crying and choking as he vomited up everything in his 
stomach. He was completely emotionally shattered. Lyta assumed that the red 
mess must have meant something to him, but she had no idea what. She decided to 
experience the nightmare with him and see what she could learn from it. It was 
not an experience she looked forward to with anticipation. 

   The scene changed. She was in a morgue. It was filled with broken bodies of 
men, women and children, military and civilian. She still didn't know what she 
was watching, but she was becoming engrossed in what was transpiring.

   Bryson was addressing an older woman in a laboratory smock, "Are you sure?"

   "I am sorry sir, there’s no doubt. It is, or was, your wife and son."

   Bryson broke down and began crying. The woman led him out of the morgue to 
an area filled with other people, either sobbing or in too much shock to 
appreciate their situation.

   Lyta was thinking that she had seen some of this before, but she couldn't 
immediately recall where.

   As the dream continued, a man, apparently a friend of Bryson's, met him 
coming out of the morgue building.

   "Bob, it's all over the news. The resistance is claiming credit for the 
blast. Why would they kill a bunch of civilians?"

   "Say that again, Sammy," said Bob through what was left of his tears.

   "The resistance is claiming responsibility for the blast. They claim the 
Earthforce personnel killed were transporting explosives, and that’s why it did 
so much damage."

   Sammy didn't know that his friend was involved in the resistance. The 
thought that his comrades had killed so many innocent people, including his 
wife and son, sickened Bob. It made him resolve to hunt those responsible. He 
didn't sign on to kill innocent women and children.

   Sammy had steered his friend to a small bar and ordered drinks for both of 
them. The video unit in the bar was tuned to the news channel. The news item 
about the explosion was being run repeatedly. Bob drank his beer and watched 
the video unit with detached interest. Inside, he was screaming as his anguish 
ate at his mental reasoning ability.

   Lyta remembered the explosion in question. She had seen references to it in 
the carefully kept Psi Corps records they had captured during the telepath 
war.   

   She knew most of what she needed to know. One more night of listening to 
Bob's thoughts and nightmares would probably be all she needed to form a plan 
of action. She knew it would be difficult, but she could see that if she didn't 
do it, one day in the very near future, Bob Bryson would put a gun in his mouth 
and end his pain. She wouldn't allow that.

****************************************

   Bryson heard the alarm clock and opened his eyes. He was reaching to turn it 
off when he realized he didn't have one with him.

   "Are you going to eat breakfast?"

   "Lyta," he said sleepily, "you're already up."

   "Up, dressed, and ready to go get something to eat. Unlike you, I don't 
sleep all morning."

   Bleary eyed he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and rubbed his 
eyes. "What time is it, anyway?"

   "0600, old sleepy one. Some of us do sleep at night."

   "0600! Normal people don't get up this early."

   "In the first place, I'm not normal. And, in the second, I'm probably not a 
people, either."

   Heading toward the bathroom, he said, "Let me shave and wash the sleep out 
of my eyes. Speaking of sleep, how did you fare last night?"

   "I slept like a baby. Is there any reason I shouldn't have?"

   "No. I tossed and turned all night. The sleep I get doesn't seem to do me 
much good. I think that's why I have such a hard time getting started in the 
morning."

   "Bob, some people just aren't early risers, no matter how much sleep they 
get."

******************************

   They had already been to three offices and not seen any of the people on 
their list, but Lyta wasn't discouraged. At the fourth stop, they were standing 
at the executive secretary's desk when the objective of their quest opened his 
office door and stepped into view. When he saw Lyta, he almost had a heart 
attack.

   "Mister Shaw. I’m Lyta Alexander. I tried to make an appointment, but your 
secretary wouldn't make one for me." 

   The man looked at his employer, after giving Lyta a look that could kill, 
and said, "Mister Shaw, she wouldn't state her business."

   "Don't worry, Mark. It's okay. I know Miss Alexander. Won't you please come 
in?"

   Lyta and Bob followed Shaw into his office.

   "You seemed taken aback by my appearance, Mister Shaw. Guilty conscience?" 
asked Lyta.

   "Of course not. What should I feel guilty about?" asked Shaw in reply.

   After they were seated, Lyta cut to the chase, "I know you were involved in 
the attempt on my life on Babylon 5. I also know that you were peripherally 
involved in the attempt on both G'Kar's and my lives on the Drazi home world. 
You have been involved with financing several other attempts. I could go on, 
but you get the general idea."

   "I don't know what you are talking about, Miss Alexander, but if accusations 
are all you are here for, you are wasting my time," replied Shaw.

   Lyta smiled an icy smile. "It won't be a waste of time, Mister Shaw, believe 
me. You are a fountain of knowledge. After you give me what I want, I will be 
happy to leave."

   Shaw reached for the signal button that would summon his security men.

   "Mustn't do that, Mister Shaw," said Lyta, immobilizing his arm. She then 
proceeded to scan him. It only took a few minutes to gain a veritable treasure 
trove of incriminating information.

   Lyta and Bob left Shaw's office less than ten minutes after they entered. 
Inside Shaw, was considering the business offer he remembered Lyta making. He 
regretted he couldn't make the requested investment. It was all he would 
remember of her visit.

   In the deserted elevator, Bob asked, "When’re you going to tell me what 
you’re learning? And, what was that about him having a heart condition?"

   Lyta looked at Bob, but did not offer any answers to his questions. When 
they were out on the street again and walking away from the building they had 
just exited, Lyta observed, "For someone who is supposed to be head of a covert 
operations, you surely don't seem to know when to keep your mouth shut."

   "You haven't told me anything since we started this little project. I need 
to have some idea what’s going on."

   "I have already explained that I won't give you information that could be 
detrimental to my plans, and that's all there is to it. Tonight, I'll make you 
privy to things you can use to yours and Michael's advantage. For your 
information, Shaw has an existing heart condition. He has had a minor heart 
attack, and last fall he had triple bypass surgery. If he croaks from a massive 
heart attack, it will be no surprise to anyone."

   "Is that what all this is about, killing a bunch of people?"

   "No. The only ones getting the extreme prejudice treatment are those 
directly involved with the attempts on my and G'Kar's lives or dealing with 
those who would have caused the destruction of Earth. All the rest are yours. 
I'll provide all the information you’ll need to get investigations started and 
stuff like that. The vast majority of the people on our list fall into that 
last category. Do you have a problem with my dealing with those who tried to 
have me killed?"

   "It's cold, Lyta. It's murder. I don't see how you can do it?"

   "Tonight I will show you things that will help you deal with your 
squeamishness. You need a good dose of reality - interstellar style."

   "Can we get something to eat?"

   "Lead on. I can eat just about anything."

******************************

   That evening after supper, Lyta had Bob relax on his bed after they had 
bathed and gotten into their bedclothes. Just before she started, Bob tuned to 
ISN for his news fix.

   "It has been learned that the Arkland family has formally filed suit against 
General Susan Ivanova-Wayne. As has been shown earlier in these videos, the 
Arklands' son was badly beaten by the General in a hand-to-hand combat match. 
The suit alleges that the match was a setup by General Ivanova in frustration 
at the young man's objections to the attack she initiated on a supposedly Drakh 
space station. The suit is asking for ten billion credits for damage both 
physical and mental suffered by the family and son. We will continue to cover 
this as the situation develops."

   Lyta and Bob had watched the piece with interest. "Your friend can really 
kick ass, Lyta.”

   "As long as I've known her, Susan has been able to hold her own in a fight. 
I wonder why she didn't just kill him and be done with it. It would have been 
much simpler in the long run."

   "Jesus Christ, Lyta. Don't you have any respect for life?"

   "Believe it or not, I probably have more respect for it than you do. In a 
short while, you’ll learn exactly what I mean."

   "That sounds scary."

   "Don't worry. You'll be just fine."

   Lyta planted the thought in his mind, and Bob began to drift off to sleep. 
Within fifteen minutes he was sound asleep. Lyta began her lessons. Carefully, 
she led Bob through the real history of Psi Corps and its doings. Before she 
quit this indoctrination, she had led him through her knowledge of the Vorlons, 
Shadows, Drakh, Clark's government and a montage of the EA and IA politics and 
the results of the same. After finishing this, she let him drift even deeper 
into sleep. When he started having his nightmare she was there waiting to see 
it as he experienced it.

******************************

   Bob awoke to the sound of an alarm clock in his head. "I wish you wouldn't 
do that, Lyta."

   "Think of it as service with a smile. It's time to go get breakfast."

   Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way to breakfast.

   Through a mouthful of pancake, Bob managed to mumble, "I remember what you 
showed me last night. You aren't so scary now. I have trouble believing even a 
tenth of what I saw."

   "Believe all of it. The Vorlons would have destroyed the Earth, Mars, and 
everything living thing in the solar system."

   "And...You worked for these beings?"

   "Yes. Until I learned what they were really all about."

   "It’s hard to believe. Give me some time."

   "Now, do you understand why I act as I do toward Shaw and those like him?"

   Bryson just nodded his head in acknowledgment.

   They had finished breakfast and were enjoying a cafe latte when Lyta 
said, "We’re behind where I wanted to be, Bob. Let's get a move on."

******************************
   END PART 5

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