Amy heaved a sigh of exhaustion as she tossed the last of the makeup bottles into the case. The past hour had been spent preparing the wardrobe department for travel, and it looked as if the end were in sight. Thank God, she thought, rotating her shoulders to relieve some of the stress residing in her rapidly cramping muscles.
As much as she loved the authority and prestige her leadership on this mission brought....she wanted nothing more than for Harris to magically reappear, dismissing her of her duties in favor of a hot bubble bath. If he could hear me now, he’d most likely repudiate these thoughts of mine and offer me a lecture to boot. In addition to having more field experience than she, Harris was also six years her senior, a fact easily observed by his hair, graying at the temples.
Amy peeled off her sweatshirt, tossing it haphazardly on the back of a chair. She was about to return to her work when two figures caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. With a smile playing about her lips, Amy stood with her hands planted on her hips, watching as Miranda and Kevin walked side by side through the bustling backstage area. Though they weren’t physically touching, it was more than obvious that it made no difference. Kevin seemed to caress Miranda with his eyes; neither distance, nor time an issue. They were oblivious to Amy, who leaned against the door frame as she observed the scene. The pair rounded a corner, falling out of sight.
Just as she was about to continue her efforts, a third form came into view. A man, of medium height and weight stepped forward, tossing his magazine onto a table. Glancing left, then right, he began to trace the same path Miranda and Kevin had taken seconds earlier. Amy’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked on this man. He was familiar, his features tickling a vague memory hidden within the depths of Amy’s mind. The man had dark features and was dressed in a similar fashion as most of the crew. In fact....further inspection revealed his black shirt carried the logo of a crew member on the right breast pocket. He wore faded jeans which lent him the fraternity and unobtrusive nature typical of.....
Amy’s scowl deepened. She’d rather not think of what this behavior was typical of. She’s rather not let her brain loose with the multitude of possibilities this evoked. Her keen eyes followed the man’s progress; he was just about to round the same corner Miranda and Kevin had disappeared behind.
Making a rash decision, Amy slipped form the doorway of the wardrobe room to pursue this figure, where ever he went. She walked slowly, trailing at a safe pace, always intensely aware of the amount of distance which separated herself from the man, and the man from Miranda.
No one seemed to notice as Amy took up the art of shadowing; to the surrounding bodies, she was just another member of the crew. Any other time, that would have been a comforting thought, but not when that same view was cast upon the man as well. How many other cookie cutter ‘crew members’ were lurking behind closed doors? Or in the open?
Ahead, Amy could make out Miranda and Kevin’s movement; she watched as they came to a halt at the crossroads of one of the many intersecting backstage halls. In the aft, both Amy and the man stopped as well, each taking up a non threatening stance as they observed the exchange which occurred between the couple. Kevin leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Miranda’s lips. She let her arms slip around his shoulders in a tight, albeit quick, embrace. He rested his hand against her cheek briefly before pivoting to stride purposefully down the hall to the right. Miranda’s chest heaved in a resigned sigh before she veered to the left.
The man in front of Amy moved swiftly to the juncture of the hallway, glancing both ways in thought. Amy held her breath as she awaited his decision; the man pondered no more than a few seconds, but to Amy it was nearly an eternity. This one choice would tell her all she needed to know. This one selection of paths would verify the object of his stealthy hunt. In so many words, it would cry of his intent, shout of his purpose. Left...or right?
The breath caught in Amy’s chest ached against the walls of her lungs, begging for release. Heartbeat loud even to her own ears, she watched as the man very deliberately turned his corner of choice, slinking along the corridor furtively. Left.
*****
“Shh! Don’t say a thing until I check everything out.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes, Romeo, it is. I never do anything without good reason, and I’m not about to start. Remember...not a word.” Amy admonished, covertly slipping through the hotel room door, and turning on the light with a simple flick of her wrist. Gun in hand, her gaze darted about the room rapidly, trying desperately to discern whether or not there were any unexpected, let alone uninvited, visitors. Carefully, she checked behind the closet doors, even venturing into the bathroom to ensure their security. Finally satisfied, she motioned for Kevin and Miranda to join her in the suite.
“It’s clear,” she informed them, gesturing to their surroundings with a sweeping arc of her arm.
“Thank you, Jane Bond.” Kevin sighed beneath his breath. If Amy had heard his flippant remark, she didn’t let on, which was just as well. Miranda shot her long absent lover a warning look before settling herself on the end of the large double bed.
“What’s wrong, Amy?” she posed the question quietly, concern filling her eyes.
“Thank God this is a new city, hence the new hotel assignments. No need to worry about listening devices,” the agent muttered, peeking out the blinds covering the windows. “Have a seat Kevin, we’ve got a long night of discussion ahead of us.”
Hesitantly, the well built man sat beside Miranda, enveloping her small palm in his.
“We’ve got a tail,” Amy stated bluntly, never one to mince words over important subjects such as this. She was met with incredulous replies from the other two occupants of the room, taking notice of the way Kevin’s hand gripped Miranda’s with increased pressure, enough to make her wince. To spite the pain, she covered their clasp with her free hand, eyes resting on Amy seriously.
“How? I mean, they’ve never been this swift before.”
“That’s because he didn’t belong to us...at least, not at first,” Amy clarified, beginning to pace the confines of the suite.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Miranda returned plaintively.
“The man shadowing us now was previously keeping tabs on Kevin.”
“WHAT?!” Kevin exclaimed, nearly jumping from his position on the bed. His green eyes widened in fright as his features paled yet another shade. “Me? What could they possibly want with me?”
“Witnesses have a tendency to get in touch with their old ties. Family, friends,” she looked pointedly at the other two, “lovers. It’s a well known fact, that if you stay with a close contact of a protectorate, they will eventually deliver. Unfortunately for us, that little statistic had proven true. Again.”
“Does Harris know?” Miranda asked with trepidation.
“As a matter of fact he does,” came a new voice. All three started violently, though Amy’s instincts reacted quickly as she pulled her concealed handgun from the holster beneath her arm. Sighting the barrel on the figure shrouded in shadows, her eyebrows lowered pensively. Without another word, the dim form stepped into the light.
“Harris!” Miranda cried, freeing herself from Kevin’s grasp. As Amy relaxed, returning her firearm to it’s proper place, the raven haired woman they were supposed to protect wrapped the fourth member of the party in an enthusiastic hug. The new man’s mouth cracked in a smile as he reciprocated the gesture. Amy stood shaking her head and murmuring curses under her breath. As Harris became free of Miranda’s embrace, he advanced toward his partner, a teasing light in his eyes.
“Miss me?”
“You bastard,” she hissed in reply. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“You didn’t check the room very well.”
“Considering my nerves are shot, I did as well as can be expected. Your ability to conceal yourself has always been rather uncanny, has it not?”
“You did miss me.”
“Your ego has certainly enlarged since you left.....you heard?” she inquired, shoving Harris’ arm gently.
“Everything. In fact, I’ve got some further light to shed on the subject. I’m glad to see you came clean with Miranda about the tail.”
“I had little choice in the matter after today’s events.” Amy sighed. Kevin, who had previously gone forgotten, took this opportunity to speak up,
“Meaning?”
“I caught the shadow in his act today,” she admitted. “He’s definitely on to us; Miranda was undoubtedly his target.” Miranda sank back onto the bed, her expression belying her shock.
“They’ve never been close before.....why now? Why after all this time?”
Harris moved to squat in front of her still form as he debated his reply. “This never stopped, Miranda. It just felt like it because you were wrapped up in your reunion with Kevin. I’m sorry to say, they’ve been following our progress around the country for the past two years for certain. You’re right, they’ve never been this close before, but that’s only because we made a habit of leaving the city before they could move in on us.”
“So this is it? It’s really over?” she whispered.
“No, it’s not over,” Amy attempted to console Miranda, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. Her assurance went unheeded as the other woman glanced up at Kevin.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, baby.” he told her fiercely, taking her hand in his once again. Casting his stare on Harris, he added, “I guess you’ll be leaving soon.”
“Within the hour,” Amy decided, standing swiftly.
“Not so fast,” Harris spoke quietly, forestalling his partner’s actions.
“Harris, time is everything.”
“Not everything.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my colleague?” she demanded, gaze narrowing.
“There comes a time when every wild thing must come from it’s burrow. The running has to stop eventually. This is as good a finish line as any.”
“Are you proposing that we give in? Hand her over to the mafia?”
“No, not at all. I’m proposing we beat them at their own game.”
*****
”Thousands of pre-pubescent girls are left bawling into their pillows on this spring morning. There is little left to console them after the horrendous events of the past twenty four hours. The well known pop music group, the Backstreet Boys, have announced the cancellation of several of their shows in the Millennium tour. The week’s worth of dates have been postponed, set to fall on the heels of the short Canadian leg of their tour. While many are left heartbroken, a spokesman for the Boys cites legitimate reasons for this change of plans: ‘In all honesty, the Boys are in need of a bit of old fashioned rest and relaxation. What with the hectic schedules required, poor health has been a common occurrence over the past month. The Boys’ immune systems have degenerated so much, that they have opted to take a short break in an effort to put on the best possible show for their fans.’ Backstreet Boy, Kevin Richardson says, ‘We want to make this concert experience the best possible for all parties involved. We simply can’t do that without our health. As much as we’d love to be invincible, the fact of the matter is, we’re not.’ You can catch the Backstreet Boys on the Rosie show later this week......”
Tony Guerelli tossed the newspaper onto his desk in disgust. This was beautiful, just beautiful. Once again, those incompetents he had working for him had managed to foul yet another opportune situation. He could just kiss that little cookie of a girl goodbye....
Perhaps even more irritating than their failure to rid the Guerelli business of her threat, was the fact that he had found out about the Backstreet hiatus via the newspaper. News like that should have come from Carl’s lips, the minute -no, second- he caught wind of this caper.
“Fools....bunch a fools, all of ‘em...” he muttered disdainfully. Mr Guerelli’s quiet tirade was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. Snatching it up hastily, he barked a greeting.
“Mr.....Mr. G?”
“Carl, you-” a litany of profanity followed, flowing from the boss man’s mouth like so much water through a river.
“Mr. G., let me explain!” Carl pled, practically shaking in his boots as the sweat began to form tiny beads on his forehead.
“You’ve got ten seconds.”
“We didn’t even know they were cutting the tour, sir. I found out just last night, after overhearing a conversation between the Boys and their publicist. Seems they needed a break, so being stars, they’re takin’ it.”
“You imbecile. Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me,” Mr. Guerelli hissed. “I suppose you stayed put, waiting for their highly anticipated return?”
“No, sir. We’re following them. All the way to Florida.”
“Well, good for you,” Guerelli replied bitingly, “What do you want, a medal or something? She’s not dead yet?” his question was met with silence on the other end of the line, prompting the mafia man to groan in frustration. He had had enough. These cretins couldn’t handle this; he should have known from the start. Good help was just so hard to find these days. If you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself.
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