Endgame - Chapter 104

   "So. Does my theory, about white holes? Hold any scientific validity."

   "Hmm. Quite a bit, actually. Further testing will be needed to confirm our initial findings, naturally. But at first blush…"

   "I think first blush, was when I showed you the third white hole, and… pointed it out to you."

   "I'm still blushing."

   "Good. You're cute when you blush. And, I enjoy making you blush."

   "That's what I like about you, really. How shy you are about sex."

   "Hmm. So… I've decided it's time to have a… talk."

   "Ooh. Science girl."

   "This talk is more serious."

   "Is there a problem?"

   "No. Quite the opposite, in fact. Everything's great. Which, is where the talk is coming from."

   "Yes. When things are going too great? Clearly, that would be a problem."

   "Can I just get through this?"

   "Go on."

   "I'm tired of lying to you. I'm going to be honest."

   "Don't take this the wrong way, but… you lying to me? Doesn't really phase me anymore."

   "My name isn't Merry. But you know that."

   "You told me. Your name is Holly."

   Merry sighed.

   "It's not. In fact? Everything is just one big lie. Pretty much, nothing I told you? Is true. Its all invented."

   "Does this story end with you used to be a man?"

   "No. It doesn't."

   "Then I can live with it. I simply don't care."

   "Remember when I pretended I couldn't shoot a gun?"

   "Sure. Merry the steakhouse waitress wouldn't know about guns. Made sense to me."

   "That's not the only time I ever did that. In fact? I've been doing it so much…"

   "What else did you lie about, then. You don't have to tell me. I honestly don't care."

   "Originally, yeah. Lying to you was… work related. But… I more or less invented everything else, that I came clean about."

   "So. The truth you told me, when you were done lying? Was another lie."

   "Oh yeah."

   "Work related. I don't care."

   "I… really like pretending to be Merry. I love it. It keeps me from…"

   "So? Keep doing it. Keep loving it."

   "Its not one thing. Its not a couple things. Its… everything."

   "Is it work related?"

   "Not really. I just… love forgetting it all, and… "

   "Once again. You don't have to tell me."

   "Remember, back when I tied you up, and tickled you? Before you almost thought I might have killed… donut whore?"

   "Sure."

   "I remember you accusing me of… knowing too much about kinky sex."

   "Hey. It was just one more thing about you, that didn't add up."

   "Yeah. You were right, you know. I actually did have… experience with kinky sex."

   "So what."

   "I'm not actually a sociopath. I mean, I kind of am. But I wasn't born that way. Pretty much my entire… back story? I made up to explain why I test out to be one."

   "I've given up on telling you, I don't need to know. Go ahead, if you have you're heart set on it."

   "I've been lying about… well? Everything. You wonder why I like hearing about the goats and the chickens? Its because I actually grew up on a farm. Hearing you describe it? Makes me feel so… great. That's why I make you keep telling me about… animals. And how we're going to have some."

   "Okay. Big whoop."

   "My dad didn't work as a manager for some big company. I grew up on a farm. I went to college on a scholarship for sports. That much? Is true."

   "I would assume you lie about growing up on a farm, to hide your real name. For obvious… work related reasons."

   "That's what I would claim, but… the real truth is? It was just easier to… drift away and become someone else."

   "Psychology?"

   "Yeah, that's true too. I grew up a tomboy, that's another thing I didn't lie about."

   "I'm just not seeing where this is some great big deal."

   "I was in love once. Like I am with you."

   "Yeah. The guy that left you…"

   "He didn't leave me. Not like you think. He…"

   "You left him, then."

   "No. He… died. In my arms. I watched him… slip away."

   "I'm sorry."

   "Not your fault. So don't be sorry."

   "Car wreck?"

   "No. He was shot."

   "Mugger…"

   "Dirty cop."

   "That would explain your somewhat… pathological… hatred of dirty cops, I suppose. How does a girl on a sports scholarship at school? Come to be involved with dirty cops. Or your boyfriend."

   "I had two boyfriends at college. I didn't date a lot. Small town farm girl, good girl kind of thing, there. My first boyfriend? Some pre med student. He went away to go to medical school. Found out after he left? One of my team mates… it was called sport-fucking. She… sport-fucked him. Didn't find out till after he was gone."

   "Okay."

   "That was year two. Then, starting year three? I met my other college boyfriend. He was a junior like me, but he was four years older than I was. Cause he'd been in the service for four years before hitting college."

   "Army?"

   "Air Force, actually. Wanna guess what he did in the Air Force?"

   "Janitor… cook…"

   "No. Computer programmer. Just like you were. You know how you told me, you went from first being a computer programmer, then ended up becoming something else?"

   "Sure."

   "He was friends with all the MPs. So… he was a lot like another MP. In some ways? He practically was one."

   "Okay. I remind you of him. I'm… honored."

   "That's just it. You more than remind me of him… you… you're so much like him? It's downright scary."

   "How did he…"

   "One of my team mates. Room mate too. Best friend. She… I'm a psych major. I just knew she had… problems. Long story short? She finally… opened up to me. And him. I was gonna… learn how to be a therapist. On her. Help my friend, its a psych project, for experience. Like that."

   "Good plan. She gets free help. You? Get practical experience."

   "Yeah. That part was… working. The story that came out, though. It was… horrifying. Her mother, kind of… whore-d her out, as a teenager. Its a long story, but… the mother was a madam. Running actual prostitution. Small town, had a criminal and his son running the town. They would… drug the daughter? Then… more or less sell tickets."

   "Tickets? To…"

   "Tickets to the gang rapes they sold her for, when she was drugged. She eventually escaped. But… what's so insane? Is how much like him, you really are. The… too much stuff is the same. Little things. Like, the drug they used? Guess what the drug was."

   "No…"

   "Yeah. He… trained with the MPs. Ended up saving one of their lives, and… he called in all these MP best friends? They were all spread out around the country, working in law enforcement, go figure. They all came to help, and… it turned into a case. That town. The gang rapes. All of it."

   "They close the case?"

   "Yeah. The whole thing was… wrapping up. That's when one of the dirty cops? Shot him. Hunting rifle. One of the MPs? Happened to be in the right place at the right time, and saw where the shot came from."

   "So he got his."

   "Oh yeah. Mag dumped his ass. Kinda like what you did to… that dirty cop in the motel room, in DC. See, that's another similarity."

   "Well. Good for him. He didn't get in trouble for…"

   "No. And I didn't say it was a he. It was a she. Woman that used to hunt rapists for the service. She was… rape bait. Like a lady cop trying to catch a purse snatcher? She caught rapists. She…"

   "She mag dumped him. Its justice."

   "He was standing right near me, when he got shot. In fact… you know the scar on my shoulder? The one I told you I got on a dirt bike…"

   "Yeah."

   "Bullet that killed him? Grazed my shoulder. Which… was another similarity, that ties you and him. Together. When you took one in the shoulder in that motel room… it was just too weird. It was like, the same situation is happening all over again. Dirty cop. This time, you got it in the shoulder, instead of me."

   "Weird coincidence. Sure."

   "It was like… you? Are him. Came back, and… he got his revenge. Then up behind the bar that night? He wanted more. Its just too weird."

   "Life can be funny like that, hun."

   "Really? He was always talking about… karma. Just like you. Computer programmer, just like you. Tough military guy. The coincidences? Are just too much. And… he didn't die immediately. He died in the ambulance, on the ride to the emergency room. We… had time to talk a little. On that ride."

   "Well. At least you got to say goodbye."

   "That's just it. Remember that story you told me about your little dog? How he came back to you. In the other dog. You even said, it was in the eyes."

   "Yeah. I know its crazy, but… Moose came back to me. In Champ. I got another couple years to spend with him."

   "Yeah. In the ambulance? We both were telling each other I love you, then… he stopped me. He said… oh this is crazy…"

   "What?"

   "He said. I don't have much time left. I love you too. We can waste this short time, telling each other I love you a couple hundred more times? Or, I can tell you something important."

   "What did he…"

   "He said. Well, karma. The universe was doing this for a reason. His time was done. He had obviously accomplished the purpose the universe had for him being here. He told me… this was happening for a reason. I was to just… figure it out, and use it. Let the universe put me where I needed to be, where it wanted me. He also told me…"

   "Yeah?"

   "If I did what the universe wanted. If I let it… put me where I needed to be? He'd find me again. He said I'd eventually meet someone, and he would remind me of him. That… when I looked in his eyes? I'd see him, then I'd know. He said, I won't know who I am when I come back, or who you are? But… once I see it, I'll know."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. Crazy, right? I just figured… he didn't want me to waste my life. But, when you told me that story about that little dog coming back… I almost shit myself. And all the coincidences? They're just too much. He was just like you are. Always had some weird, big strategy. Sun Tzu, Machiavelli, Karma, Valhalla… everything. Its scary."

   "Hun. I don't think I'm old enough to be a reincarnation of someone that---"

   "That's another thing! He was laying there dying, telling me this story. He said… the guy wouldn't be that young! He'd have something happen to him in his life? That changed him… and… when I go back in time? Right around the time he died, lines up with you… going from support specialist, to… Team Sigma. You even said it yourself…"

   "Did I?"

   "You said Little Robbie, killed you. They drowned you. Then when you came back? Robbie started your heart, and brought you back to life. He dies, tells me this story… then… you tell me that! He tells me to look in the eyes of this man, and then you tell me the story about the little dog! Its too much!"

   "I really remind you of this guy that much?"

   "Yeah. You do. Instead of calling in the MPs? You had team Sigma members help you. He got killed by a dirty cop, in on the small town corruption, and… he wanted his revenge. Its like… becoming an MP wasn't enough, he wanted more. So, he came back as… Sigma, and… the way you plan and use strategy… even that girl he was doing it for? That's you. He didn't care about money, or… nothing that normal people care about. And he gave his life, trying to help someone. Trying to make things right. Its you, I just know it."

   "I don't know what to say… am I really that much like him?"

   "You… have no idea. You're like… him? But… more. Of everything. He was a fighter too. But, all his hobbies? Stuff like you're into, except more of it."

   "All right. I did die, and I was reborn. Its… fine, if you believe this. I don't question my little dog came back to me. So, you can… its fine. Question though."

   "Yeah."

   "Does it make you feel good? To… think this."

   "Yeah. A lot. Does it… bother you? I don't want you thinking you're some… substitute. Its not like that."

   "Hun? Like everything else. I simply don't care about the why. If I love you, and you love me? That's all that matters. So…"

   "Yeah."

   "Did you let the universe put you where you needed to be then."

   "Yeah. I gave everything up, and… just let it happen."

   "Hmm. What was the original plan."

   "Me and him?"

   "Sure."

   "Oh. We were going to finish our bachelors. Go to grad school. Both get doctorates. In our own fields."

   "Good plan. You were a psych major. What was he?"

   "Another eerie similarity there. Math and computer science."

   "Ouch."

   "I know. I really was a college athlete. Scholarship. Staying on, for grad school? Still playing. Made me… more, at that. More experience. Team captain."

   "You never got your doctorate?"

   "No. I could only take… so much. I abandoned my doctorate, and… went where I figured the universe wanted me. A lot of the football players? Would get recruited into the FBI. I already knew an FBI agent, his best friend. Hell, that guy was there standing on the other side of him. When he bought the farm. He… introduced me to Mike. The rest is history now."

   "What was my name."

   "What do you mean?"

   "My name. His name. You know what I mean."

   "Oh. His nickname, everyone called him Wiz. Short for… The Wizard. One of the room mates, she called him Wizzy."

   "Hmm."

   "He was into electronics, too. Just like you. I'm telling you? Its scary. So, now you can figure out why I have a little wizard tattoo on my lower back. It was a copy of his own Wizard tattoo, that he had. And… another lie there. The sports fraternity letters? It isn't. Basically his initials. W, I, Z. Psi… Iota… Zeta. Psi, kind of looks like W."

   "What was he going to do. After college was over."

   "We were going to get married finally. He… wanted to work on… you know, his stuff. That was the plan, anyways."

   "What was his… big project."

   "That's… another scary thing."

   "I'm afraid to ask."

   "You know how one of your online projects, is working on a computer language?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Same thing. He was writing his own. I'm not into computers like he was, but… he was making his own… compiler."

   "There's no w---"

   "You think I'm lying to you?!?! I still have all his stuff. He had a military footlocker, and two big green duffel bags, like all you service guys have. Some boxes of books and all his notes. I even saved his laptop. I'll let you see the stuff, eventually. So you know I'm not crazy."

   "I don't think you're crazy. I'm just curious about the computer compiler. I'm curious to see… if I can see where he was going with it."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. My programming language. I'm not the first guy to do work like I'm doing. I just plan on being the first one to see it through. All the way through. To the end."

   "All his computer buddies used to go crazy. Seeing him show them his… language working. His compiler, doing its thing."

   "He… had it working?"

   "Yeah. You can look at his laptop, and see that stuff. If it would help you."

   "Wow."

   "Yeah, I know. Eerie, isn't it?"

   "More than you know. I mean, there's not exactly that many guys, writing their own compilers, like I'm doing. We're a pretty exclusive club. I might have even read some of his stuff, online. You never know."

   "So, you're not mad at me? Thinking you're someone else."

   "No. I admit, its all… eerie. And that thing with my dog coming back to me? I'm telling you. That? Was my own dog. He? Came back to me. So we could spend more time together. To me? Its real. So… if this is real for you? I won't question it."

   "Thanks."

   "No problem. So…"

   "Yeah?"

   "You guys were… kinky, huh?"

   "Pffft. Yeah… I mean, I didn't have a ton of boyfriends before him. I was curious about… that. Him? He wasn't into it yet, either. He was curious. We… got curious together, and…"

   "Yeah. I get the picture. You guys got naughty together."

   "Oh. I don't expect you to…"

   "What? We do kinky stuff."

   Merry bent down and whispered in his ear, for a while.

   "Oh."

   "Well. You do have, the basement, under the basement. At my bank building gun shop, you know."

   "Hmm. You don't have to do that."

   "I know I don't have to."

   "What. You're curious?"

   "I could be talked into it."

   "We'll see."

   "Whatever happened to the poor girl. The one that…"

   "Oh, her. We both kind of went to pieces, after he…"

   "I can imagine. You recovered. Went to the FBI. She took it kind of hard too, I guess."

   "That's another story. A much longer one."

   "She… still alive?"

   "Yeah. I still exchange emails with her."

   "You never see her?"

   "Not once… Merry was born. I mean, I snuck off a few times, here and there, to meet her and catch up. But… I can't…"

   "Work. New life."

   "Yeah."

   "But, she got over it? It was tougher on you, I mean, it was your boyfriend got killed. It was just her room mate."

   "Uhm. This is going to be the hard part to explain."

   "How?"

   "In the course of… she was his girlfriend, too. We… both dated him."

   "Oh. Friction there. Gotcha."

   "No. No friction. This is the hard part to explain. She was… all messed up. From everything that happened to her, before she escaped that hell hole of a town. She… had no idea what a real relationship, was even supposed to be. It started out, as… whatever, but… it ended up? We both dated him. We both lived with him. It was okay with both of us. We weren't… jealous of each other."

   "You're telling me, the Wizard guy… had two girlfriends?"

   "Yeah. Remember I told you, I had a sister?"

   "Yes…"

   "That was another made up lie. She, was basically like my little sister. We were close. Look. You have to understand this. This wasn't some… kinky, modern thing. It just… happened. I swear. I'm not even gay… but, all three of us? We were in one big relationship. That never happened before then, not even close to it. And it never happened after. Not once. But… maybe that would help to explain. Why it was… okay for the nursing doctor. To sit on my lap. Why I smacked her crazy ex around."

   "I'm just trying to take all this in."

   "Hmm. I don't think you realize, what kind of a… show, let's say. I could put on for you. With your… lady doctor friend. The only difference would be? She would be just with me."

   "You mean…"

   "What? Me and my best friend. Team mate. Room mate. Both dated the same guy. We weren't jealous of each other. Use your imagination."

   "I? Am using far too much imagination already. How in the hell, did this guy ever talk you two girls into this, in the first place."

   "Actually? He didn't. I kind of made him do it. At first. Then? It all just kind of happened."

   "I love how I'm not so much as allowed to look at another woman. But you? Oh…"

   "He wasn't… allowed either. But? That wasn't cheating. He was basically, just dating both of us, and we were room mates. Why. Does this all sound like fun to you, huh?"

   "No. It sounds horrible."

   "Well. If you let me…"

   Merry giggled and whispered into his ear more.

   "Then? We could see."

   "This sounds like blackmail."

   "Mm. What I just described? I'd be doing to your… doctor lady friend, too. And…"

   "There's more?"

   "Well. She'd be… helping me, let's say. When I did it to you."

   "I get the picture. Now, about you. And you said you weren't born a sociopath. You just test out to be one."

   "After… he died? I went to pieces, then… that's where I ended up. I wasn't born like that, but… on paper, that's where I tested after it was all over."

   "You can't… get back?"

   "That's another weird part. Being… cold. Numb. Not feeling… emotions. I started feeling them again. After I met you."

   "You told me being able to turn my emotions off. Like a light switch. That it was a trauma response."

   Merry sighed.

   "Not just something I read in a book, trust me. When you get burned, having your hand near a hot stove. What happens?"

   "Well… you pull your hand back."

   Merry gave a weak smile.

   "Kinda the same mechanism. When feeling hurts? You pull back, to keep from getting hurt. Its automatic. Just like you can't willingly keep your hand on a hot stove-top."

   He softened and spoke lighter.

   "You have a way of explaining things."

   "Hmm. Another lingering gift, I picked up off of time spent with our… mutual friend."

   "I… don't know what to say."

   "Let me ask you something."

   "Go on."

   "Your dog. When you finally… saw him. What was it like. Before then."

   "Well. You know what I'm like with animals. They're my best friends. I kind of… connect. In a way I don't really connect with most people."

   "So… you were already… connected."

   "Mm hmm."

   "Like I see you with Mister Fuzzy? Kisses… snuggles… face rubs…"

   He nodded.

   "I know you. It makes sense to me. Now tell me? After you had that moment, and saw him. What did it turn into then."

   "Oh. The truth? I… was in my neighbor's kitchen. You met the guy. I give him a few bucks, he fed my cat when I was away. We're watching a movie on his TV. I'm in the kitchen, getting another coffee. The dog? His name was Champ. He's just… bugging me, looking at me. You know how an animal will just keep looking at you? Like they're trying to tell you something. I know this act from my dog growing up. You wanna go out? No. I checked the food bowl. I checked the water bowl. No. Is it some… treat on the counter? No. And… it was just the… way… he looked at me? How he moved… I just… saw it. Then…"

   He got almost silent.

   "Go on."

   "I just… looked at him. I felt funny. Kinda warm and tingly all over. I felt weird, like… I knew I was going crazy. But… I sat down at the kitchen table. He put his feet up on my lap. I held his head and looked right into his eyes. I swore, I could see my dog's eyes. It wasn't scary, like seeing a ghost? It was… wonderful. I honestly asked him. Moose… is that you? Are you really in there? And…"

   "How did it go?"

   "Right hand up to god, the dog went nuts. Ran around, all excited. I mean, when a dog's trying to tell you something. When you finally say… do you want a drink of water? Then the dog runs around, that was it. That's? Exactly what he did. I mean, I felt like I was going crazy, but… the dog's doing it too. It freaked my neighbor out."

   "You told him?"

   "Eventually? Yeah. I mean, trust me on this… the looks I got, when I tried to explain it? But… I looked at him. I smiled. I just said… watch this…"

   "And?"

   "Real soft, I said. Hey, Moose. Come here. Dog was sleeping in the corner. He jumped right up? Ran right over and jumped up on me."

   "And… what did this feel like. After it became normal."

   "Oh… the only way I can describe it. Say, you had a best friend. You… know he died in a car wreck? Then… he just walks through the door one day. I mean, once you get over the initial shock of it? There's no better feeling, really. I mean, I got to spend a couple more years. With my dog."

   "You… are describing? Exactly how I feel. For a while now. You wanna know something else?"

   "Hmm."

   "I won't go into any great detail, but I'll say it this way. For instance, the… thing we never talk about. That's not the first time I ever saw someone… deal in karma, I'll say it like that."

   "Really?"

   Merry nodded.

   "That… girl I mentioned? The one that got hurt. He… set things right. I think you know what I mean."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. So, when I say this? You'll understand. If you ever decide to… let's just say, go on vacation again, to Europe? You know what I mean…"

   "Hmm. Yeah."

   "I'd help any way I could. I wouldn't ask any questions. I know its what he would want."

   He eyed her up. Cogs turning. Pointed at her belly.

   "Bait?"

   Merry shrugged.

   "Whatever I could do to make it go smooth. Yeah. I could also probably get a second or even a third girl in on it, that you could trust."

   "And how would I trust them, exactly."

   "The one? Definitely. The other? Over time, yeah."

   The bank was a giant but ongoing work project. Panic got his gun shop up and operational, working mainly out of the vault. He dragged long tables and display cases into a tighter knit rectangle around the mouth of the vault. Accumulated "office walls" that were everywhere and modular. They had once made mainly cubicle divisions, but assembled back together to make walls and corner units.

   The members loved it, and go figure. It was basically a gun shooting online organization, and this was the pet gun shop. They nicknamed it the toy store, because he had machine guns and silencers and stuff like that. He got that end up and running quickly.

   The biggest marble room, was upstairs on the second floor. The see through walls and complete marble up to the ceiling, made it once the president of the bank's office. Merry was thinking it wouldn't be her racquetball room, but she asked anyways. If the biggest, most marbled room was the right dimensions for racquetball? It was hers. Merry was naturally aghast.

   Bank employees had a little cement locker room downstairs, that needed mainly elbow grease and time to bring around. Merry now had her commercial looking locker room, with bench and lockers and showers. The marble racquetball room, needed only a "roof". Flat, hard, with recessed lights. She got her tanning beds. He got a pair of them, and rewired them. He said they were just light fixtures, to work on them.

   With a two person tanning salon, locker room, and other than the ceiling, a racquetball court? Merry had her first female guest out. She was back in from trial prepping, and had a good long wait on that to finally come to pass. The female guest arrived and they worked up a sweat, even without the ceiling. He had made a couple rows of benches out of planks of wood, and they quickly nicknamed them the "bleachers" because of how they sat in front of the glass wall.

   They were both sweaty, and had towels around their necks, soft drinks pressed to their foreheads. He wandered up. The coal heating worked wonders, and they told him that.

   "So. This? Is a friend from the old days."

   "How old of days."

   "She knew me, way back when."

   "And what does she call you now?"

   "All she knows? Is that her friend joined the FBI one day, and it made sense to her. She knows my name's Merry now. That's all she needs to know. So yeah, she goes back that far."

   Panic quickly found out that the guest, wouldn't say which college.

   "We played soccer together."

   Merry called herself 5'11", even though she was six foot even. Maybe a credit card between her and that measurement. Being 5'11" was another layer of security. But this guest? She was an honest 5'11". A dirty blonde, that seemed to have either kept her athletic figure over the years, or had regained it at some intervening point.

   "So. I've heard a lot about you, Mister."

   "Sorry I can't say the same thing about you."

   "Yeah. Me and Merry, we go back. We were room mates and team mates, at one time."

   "You girls like the racquetball court? Before we get the ceiling, I mean."

   "I played racquetball with another club somewhere. Merry had her own. No, it's perfect for it, I think. I've never even heard of a marble racquetball court before."

   "You girls going to try out the tanning beds?"

   Merry laughed.

   "After getting some of the sweat off? Yeah."

   He drifted back to puttering around in the gun area, and left them to rinse off, tan, and gab. Merry mentioned the body massage and Bobbi with an i's highly regarded hands. Both girls were looking forward to it.

   "So. Merry. I can't believe, that you of all people, have a new guy going. And your boyfriend bought you a bank? Its too much. You? Are officially spoiled, you know that?"

   "How's the life going."

   "Its going. I mean, I have a job. I have a career, whether I want one or not."

   "I told you what I think he is. Can we talk about it?"

   "We talked about it. I'm here. I admit I see what you mean. He is a lot like he was."

   "I know. I told you, how I can drop my face around him. That's another bonus."

   "Yeah, that. Why again does he have the same…"

   "He makes faces like I do?"

   "That works. I was trying to find a way to ask."

   "Yes, he's like me that way. No, not for the same reasons. And yes, I told him all about it. He's okay with it. For now."

   Their room? Was a little smaller than the racquetball room. Vice president's office, maybe. They had taken the marble shower out of the racquetball room and added it to the existing one in their room. Merry asked for and got a giant marble bath with multiple shower heads. The big marble bedroom was a kick, they both admitted. It was just a matter of him polishing several slabs of marble, other than some fittings. The office, kitchen, and everything else came from what used to be some kind of pool of office worker's room. Also, the obvious place to put a few commercial fridges and freezers. There were plenty not being used at the barn. A few used stainless tables and things like that made the kitchen part. The marble table area that was once the long customer table, where important customers once filled out deposit and transfer slips? The big marble dining table now.

   They both admitted that it almost felt silly to entertain one guest in it, because the whole setup dwarfs three people. It was more alive and made use of when he had camp guys in. Regular "blinky stars" stayed at one of the cabins at the camp, but a number of campers, if they were "anybody" beyond a regular member? They stayed there. One weekend Merry instantly recognized his friend from back home, that had leased the property to park the vans and give the techs inhabiting them quarters close by for the case.

   It was Panic's first showing off of his new life to anyone from his youth and young adulthood. That guy stayed for a while, drilling in the basement. He ended up with a pump and his own source of water that he tested. The fact it helped lower the ground level water and made his under the basement tomb room into a pea graveled dry as a bone place to be, was a bonus that got locked in.

   Two men with women in tow came afterwards. One couple was more excited about the camping and hunting and fishing. The other couple was inordinately fascinated with the gun shop downstairs. The toy room. Well, mainly the husband. The boys would fill the place up, and after eating watch action or war movies, or go play after hours in the gun vault.

   But for now, just him and Merry and the blonde guest, made it seem empty. They talked for a while. A soft drink party after eating and while relaxing. They ended up back in what was their own room now. The smaller, more intimate marbled VP's office. After picking out a used DVD, the guest stood before sitting down. He wondered what was up.

   "What?"

   She smiled.

   "Is it okay if I sit on the other side of you?"

   "If its okay with her? Fine."

   "I'm sure it is. Way back in the day? We were room mates. The guy she says you remind her of? This is how we would have watched a movie, way back when. Is it all right?"

   "Yeah, sure."

   They had ice cream and soft drinks. Merry made ginger ale and root beer floats with the ice cream. Ostensibly sleeping on the couch, the guest still ended up at their bed when they retired. Standing there. He asked her what she wanted, and she asked if anyone was going to invite her under the covers, or not. Merry rolled back the covers for her, because he was too cautious.

   "First things first. You don't have to be so jumpy. I'm not trying to make you do anything."

   She successfully got him calmed down enough that they could all fall asleep eventually. In the morning, they could all talk under the covers. She was just finishing up with him now.

   "So, as you can see. I'm not just… any room mate. I'm that room mate."

   He repeated her. Unsure.

   "That room mate."

   She nodded yes.

   "The guy you remind her of?"

   "Yeah…"

   "He had another girlfriend. That's who I am. That's… who you remind me of, too. Do you mind that?"

   He paused.

   "Not at all."

   "Because there's just one more thing you would need to understand."

   "And that is…"

   "I'm not some… second banana. I once had… well, how did he say it. All the rights and privileges thereunto. I was equal, to her."

   "That's between you two."

   "Do you see us fighting over it?"

   "No, I don't."

   "So, when I visit. That's who I was."

   "All right."

   She waited before trying again. He was turned to Merry, and she was at his back, facing him.

   "You know, about all I'm good for in the position I'm in right now?"

   They both wondered aloud.

   "I'm in the perfect spot? To get farted on. What's all the commotion I hear over there, anyways."

   "He's making out with the cat."

   "Of course he is…"

   "He makes out with the cat every morning, really."

   "Yeah. Is it just me, or… I like my dirty just a little bit less clean."

   Merry giggled.

   "Seriously. Did you do something after I fell asleep?"

   Merry giggled again.

   "No."

   "You sure he likes me?"

   "I'm pretty sure he likes you fine. He won't stare, because he doesn't want to offend me."

   "Well. If he doesn't stare, is he allowed to touch me? I didn't really plan on a whole night's sleep. Got one, though."

   "I think he's nervous."

   "What makes you say that, Merry."

   "Just a hunch. Hey… you… I think you're nervous."

   He continued baby talking the cat. It was Mister Fuzzy, Bitty was off on a mission somewhere.

   "And, what makes you think I'm nervous."

   "Well, you're talking to the cat, for one."

   "I talk to the cat when I'm not nervous, too. Hardly what I'd call a true differential diagnosis."

   "And, you started in with the textbook. If you start using textbook talk in humor? You only do it when you're nervous."

   "And… that's part of the fun, that having a girlfriend with a year and a half of psych will get you. I'm discussed, like I'm furniture or something."

   My guest continued to prod him.

   "I happen to know she has a lot more than a year and a half of psych classes, bub."

   "Yeah, me too. I say a year and a half, because that's the official story."

   "So. You are nervous. I thought she was kidding me."

   "Why would I be nervous. Do you know, that the first how many months, my girlfriend drills one core concept into my head. I am only allowed to bang her. She's real clear on it, too. What you'd call a… theme. So there's that."

   "All right…"

   "Then there's the whole… performance anxiety of the prospect. That's another complete discussion right there."

   "We were going to maybe make out… not run grass drills. You won't get cut, for not making the 100 yard dash in under ten seconds. I promise."

   "I've seen videos."

   "What videos."

   "Guys. That have two chicks. In the videos? Its a big, complicated, choreographed thing going on. Plus? He's got a giant thingy, and he, like, knows all these secret techniques."

   She was smiling now, engaged in conversation.

   "Secret techniques?"

   "Well. For one? In the movies. This guy wakes up, and his girlfriend's best friend is just there in bed with him. He's all smooth about it. Hey, baby… why don't you go powder your nose and get me a cold one, huh sugar lips? That's great… and you, baby, you look hot…"

   She giggled as he did the "voice" of the too smooth porn nobody actor.

   "So. You know what to do then, you just want me to give you something smooth to say?"

   "Ha ha. Like they covered this in the manual."

   "Hmm. What manual."

   "Basic training? They should cover situations like this. Then, I'd have a model to go by."

   "You, never managed to get two drunk Latinas into bed one night, with years of trying?"

   "No. I developed a rule."

   "No threesomes?"

   "No. They're not illegal. But, the rule was… package deals always fall through. So, I have a one Latina at a time rule. She? Seems to have a one pool boy at a time rule."

   "So. You were in the service."

   "Air Force."

   "Really."

   "That's the rumor."

   "What did you do."

   "Computers, computer programming."

   "Where at?"

   "Big base. Lackland, mostly."

   She froze. Merry smiled and wagged her head at her, kind of an eerie "I told you so" moment.

   "Lackland. Southern Texas, that Lackland."

   "Same one, I think. I never heard of another one. Why?"

   "I'm just thinking of the strange coincidence. I used to know someone in the Air Force before? And they were in southern Texas, Lackland. Its a coincidence."

   "Hmm. Not as big of one as you might think. See, all the other branches? They have spread out training bases. Not the Air Force, they have just one, for the entire United States. Lackland. So… anyone, that was ever in the Air Force? They guaranteed went through Lackland. All the training classes are there, too, not just basic. Its one of the biggest bases in the United States. There's Army and Navy and Marines spend their entire four years working there, too. Its that big."

   She smiled.

   "Well. That's a little less spooky then. What was the service like? How did you eat, how did you live."

   "Mess hall, for eating. If you wanna eat free, three squares a day? Its there. I try to never pass that up, unless someone else is paying, you know? Free food, all you can eat. Buffet. Every day, morning noon and night."

   "And living?"

   "Well. There's just a bunch of other computer guys, like me. We all live in the same set of buildings. Four guys to a unit. You get your own little room to yourself, and you all four share a bathroom and kitchen and living room."

   "Computers. No practicing, beating people up. Like on TV."

   "Well, funny you should say that."

   "Why."

   "Well, you're only there a couple days. And, until you get your first uniforms? They march you around with bed hair, and your dirty civilian clothes. New guys are called rainbows. Nothing to do with being gay, its because you don't have uniforms, you're all colorful. You just got there, you're still on haze the new guys status. And, you get shown this film. There's cool music playing, these guys are doing all this cool shit in the movie. Can you run this far, can you swim this far, if you can? Sign up at the front of the room, for tryouts."

   "You didn't."

   "See, maybe I didn't describe it right. There was really cool music playing, while all this cool action movie shit is going on in the movie. I ran long distance. I swam long distance before. I signed."

   "So, instead of computers, you went and did… action movie shit, you said."

   "Yes and no."

   She giggled. He could tell a story.

   "Yes, I went and did action movie shit. In fact? I jogged far enough, and swam far enough, I was hot shit. You go through a special, longer basic for the action movie job. I was days away from finishing, this epic shit, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Along comes this Colonel."

   "Did the Colonel congratulate you, on being almost done doing action movie shit?"

   "He did… at first. Then, he took me for a drive."

   "Okay…"

   "He drives me, and points to a huge pile of boxes. Says, there's enough toilet paper there, for a decent sized army. Little building its delivered in front of? Needs maybe six rolls. Its a shipping fuck-up. Then, he drives the jeep around, to another location off his clipboard and printout. Its a tiny box. Of toilet paper. Outside? Of a gigantic building. Its where the big toilet paper delivery was supposed to go. This is the 6 or 8 pack, can I see the problems he's having."

   She's following.

   "This guy? Pulls me out, a couple days from graduating my… thing I'm in. Forces me to do my computer programming, like I signed up for originally. Apparently, he saw my papers coming in, had his eye on me."

   "So, you spent your years as a computer programmer, even though you wanted to go and do… action movie shit."

   "Yes and no."

   "You? Say yes and no, a lot."

   "I do. I talk when I'm nervous. Being in bed with two pretty girls? Has me more nervous, and talking more. This? Is another excuse, to keep you talking with me. Yes, I did the computer programming thing. Muttering under my breath, right in front of the same Colonel. Who more or less smiled and permitted me to do it. I got to take… classes. Whatever I wanted, while I was there."

   "Classes."

   "Action movie shit, you can only experience in the service? Couldn't pass that up. Things that interested me. Like, hand to hand, and advanced hand to hand combat classes. Unarmed combat class. Handgun and rifle classes. The Colonel signed for my extra classes for years. I did my thing for him, like he wanted."

   "The toilet paper deliveries?"

   "One of my first. See, the Colonel explained to me. The toilet paper? Was the tip of the iceberg. The same shipping system, was shipping bullets and missiles around, too. And when you need 10,000 rounds of ammo, and you get 100? The same shit as happened with the toilet paper. It was a shipping nightmare. I did things like that as a programmer in the real world. The Colonel? Explained that what I was doing, was way more important, than…"

   She finished for him.

   "Action movie shit?"

   "Yeah. More or less. My free time? I went and did my thing. I worked out with the guys from the hand to hand combat classes. They had their own gym."

   She quizzed him for roughly what years this was. He recalled for her. She smiled.

   "That sounds to me, like around the time… our mutual friend was on the same base. I admit it, its eerie. Computers again, too. Its spooky. You might have met him."

   "She already asked me. I don't remember a… Wiz or a Wizzy. You gotta understand though. There's any number of different big computer buildings at Lackland. You're Wizzy could have been in one of those."

   "You said you were working out with the fighting instructors, and that crowd. They had their own gym."

   "Well its not a regular gym. Lots of mats around, and heavy bags and stuff for all that. So yeah, its a different gym."

   "That's where you would have met the guy. He hung around with the MPs."

   "Oh. Then I might have been around him, I guess."

   "Question. What was… action movie. You were there three days, you signed up for that music and movie."

   "Every branch of the service? Has special forces. Their own, signature special forces. The Army has them. The Navy, damn sure has them. Even the Coast Guard? Has their own, the rescue swimmers. In the Air Force? We just have the MPs, and… the special forces. They call it Para-rescue. Air Force version of the special forces."

   "Action movie shit."

   "The main job? Is they parachute you in, from super high up at night. You go in, a high altitude, low opening deployment. Behind enemy lines, to retrieve pilots and disable key systems of the aircraft if the pilot didn't punch it. See? The job description, is like the plot for an action movie. It sells itself, when the music plays. You gotta imagine it with the music. It really makes it."

   "But, you got sucked back into computers."

   "I did. I also got out, and… did something else."

   "More computers?"

   "Yes and no. Remember the action movie guys?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well. Imagine some of the job offers those guys get, for when they get out of the service."

   "Action movie shit… gotcha."

   "I signed up to do that? For one, because it paid well. For another? They needed a computer and electronics guy. I was in shape. They had… the action movie guys, too. I ended up switching teams after a little while. I did computers and radios and electronics? For the action movie team."

   She stared at him.

   "That is weird."

   He shrugged.

   "What…"

   "The guy we talk about, now you. Neither one of you intended on… action movie. You both went for computers. He… ended up with the MPs. You? Went and did action movie stuff. Ended up doing it after you got out. You guys are a lot alike. I admit, its eerie."

   Merry commented she was starting to think she was wrong, half joking. Her guest now saw what she meant, though.

   "So. Merry… what do I have to do, to get attention like the cat is getting."

   "Oh. You have to… lure the cat away and get the cat on you? Then… you get more attention."

   "Really."

   "That's how I did it the first time."

   He piped up.

   "She had take out containers from the steakhouse. She's telling me about a cat. Movie night, cat, food…"

   She smiled.

   "You didn't get to see the movie, did you?"

   "Actually, no. I fell asleep. And I didn't get the movie in the morning, either. In fact? It took a while, to get permission to watch movies."

   She was on the prowl for the cat now, giggling. She was reaching over and touching it, seeing how it went.

   "Hey, little guy…"

   He rolled over, and gave her fair access to the cat with the deep resonant growl in his throat. She finally got it bundled in her arms under the covers.

   "Hey, Merry."

   "Yeah."

   "I got the cat. Now what do I do."

   "Just… sit tight with the cat. He has to come to you now."

   "Okay, I… oh."

   "What's… oh?"

   "I got a hand under my T shirt. Does that count as first base?"

   "Sure."

   She announced she didn't want him to miss second base, and kissed him a little. After a while, she seemed happy when she declared a certain amount of third base as an inside the park home run. Merry had considerably less trouble getting her own third base action.

   He looked at the guest.

   "So. Zarina, you said that's just a nickname."

   "Yeah. Started out, The Czarina? Got shortened. Ended up Zarina."

   "What's your real name, or, is that a work thing with her…"

   They both looked at Merry, who shrugged.

   "My name? You'd have trouble spelling and pronouncing it…"

   She went through the little hassle she knew all too well, showing how to spell and pronounce her name. Szarabjorna isn't for beginners.

   He asked what she did.

   "We all had to go to college for something, right?"

   He nodded along.

   "Well. Same here. I work for a company that mainly does PR work for government agencies. I'm not a federale myself or anything, I just work for one of the suppliers. I don't exactly plan on going to any of Merry's little… biker bar nights out. Not my crowd. If you asked me why I seem successful with a career in the big city after college? I'd say a friend hooked me up with the job. Got lucky that way."

   When talk got around to him mentioning "the victim", Merry and Zarina both had eye contact.

   "Yeah. I knew the victim, the one you're talking about. I was actually best friends with her. Merry knows this."

   He asked if the girl "got out" of college okay and into… something productive.

   Szarabjorna smiled.

   "She ended up like me. A job similar to mine, in some big city somewhere. So yeah, she made it. There's that."

   "Well. At least the victim got out and got her shit back together. That's something."

   "Yeah. It is. All right. I'm done torturing you, for your first time. I know this is all one big surprise for you. I'm even prepared to let you off the hook, if we can talk about a shower."

   She talked her way into a shower easier than Merry thought she would. When the time came, Merry suggested to just "soap her up like me…". When it came time for the "body oil with the grit in it", she wanted more and Merry smiled and nodded. She liked the brush used on her back with it. Whatever he did for Merry, he then did for her. This ended up for both, a sort of lift one foot, then the other situation. The rest of the time they just leaned into the wall in the shower.

   They explained they showered together for years in college sports, it was normal for them.

   "Hey. New Wizzy."

   "Yeah…"

   "This might freak you out. You can imagine, all the football players that go into cities. Some of them have championship rings, makes them sports heroes. The boys love to show those off, right?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "Well. If a boy could do this, with football? He'd most likely be playing professionally…"

   Szarabjorna had a ring on each finger of one hand, whether it fit or not, just a place to stick it.

   "Four conference titles. One national title. We started a dynasty. So, I just love it when boys get to showing off their one, maybe two conference rings. Its my big moment in life, and all. Seeing the look on their faces."

   She glanced at Merry.

   "Merry has the same five rings. She just can't wear them, because she only went to school for a year and a half…"

   Merry shrugged.

   After a couple day sleep over, she had him kissing her without jumping every time she touched him. Before she left, she thanked him for being a "sport" about the whole thing. Would it be okay if when she came through now and then… and he agreed it was fine. She smiled, and said it was nice to have broken the ice for the first time.

   Merry hugged her friend goodbye before she left for the final time. Merry looked at her boyfriend. Well? He smiled and nodded, it was okay.

   Neither Merry nor Panic were looking forward to "the trials", as they called them to start. When their part to testify in the trials passed, they were both relieved. Merry quietly resumed her life as before. Panic had his own gift cards and side work. He particularly enjoyed the "cop car chip" gig and getting thousands of dollars for "chipping" cars on the civilian market. Buying gold under the table. Stolen bike parts.

   Uncle Mike approved, and saw to him getting copies of any vehicle he wanted. Having several more cop chippings to ply, increased his side work.

   Merry quietly disposed of her cocaine stash, cut down to normal bar standards. She resumed her life of being the perennial pot dealer. Sales went on at the bar only, and her publicly visible "big tips" jar was her street tax.

   A twenty dollar an ounce street tax was levied on any pot sold. Sold by the eight one eighth bags as they normally were, this was 2.50 per small sale. She just charged five more than she planned, and had her own back.

   A once a year vacation trip, along with fistfuls of the magic FBI seals, was an Uncle Mike, once a year pot run bonanza. It credibly made Merry's position safer, more undercover, everything. The floorboards got used every year they did this. Let not those precious FBI seals go to waste. Merry did document however, her personal knowledge of the trade routes. Buying cheap down south, close to the Florida nightmare of infiltration.

   How magically at about New York and farther north, it got progressively more expensive. She documented her routes staying from silent bar, to silent bar. Moving through no color states smoothly, from silent club to silent club, efficiently.

   Mike understood. She was using and documenting the pipeline for bales of pot. It could certainly and most likely would be used, as a cocaine pipeline. Machinists existed, with a high end stock in trade in mind. They made the hollow motorcycle frame pieces, or more accurately made them accessible and impossible to detect at a glance or even an extended look see.

   A large gang of bikes moving in packs north or south, in conjunction with certain motorcycle gatherings coming and going on now and again. All the added bikes? Was perfect camouflage to chop up large purchases with hollow bike tubes and mob it. Most clubhouses didn't miss the opportunity, either.

   Merry could get away with Uncle Mike not necessarily knowing the extent of what she brought back under FBI seals once a year, in her floorboards. She could not, however, run the risk of not paying her own street tax. A once a year "bill payer" was allowable as a once a year injection of extra "paycheck power". Her yearly run was not in that category, and she knew it.

   She initiated a meeting with a national, so as to talk about her paying her street tax. Because she had used club contacts and everything to achieve it? She was offering. Faced with a large "tax collection", the nationals smiled and shut up and took it. Merry meticulously figured every purchase as under her name. Calculated a profit, and paid a straight tax on that. Her weed sales went in on the 2.50 an eighth tax, the twenty dollar an ounce tax levied.

   The cocaine, should anyone ever mention it? Wasn't even in the same league, and she knew it. However, voluntarily handing in large street taxes was considered a charming thing at the national level. From the very little fanfare it generated other than a smile and a "thank you" at the hand-off… she couldn't be the only person doing the once a year "extra paycheck" program.

   After the first year, they were better prepared to take fuller advantage of the situation the second time around. They literally filled up the floorboard hiding spot, and stacked bales of pot in sweater boxes in the bedroom. The magic seals never failed to work. If they ever got called into question? Uncle Mike's number was in it, they were to call him first and explain why his seal was being tampered with. Uncle Mike could squash any investigation quick, and preferred not to have to handle it publicly even at that.

   Merry once asked why they didn't keep their stash of money and a few other valuables, in the bank vault.

   "Because. The bank vault, is officially a gun shop's main vault. If anyone showed up at random? I'm expected to be able to locate guns and things off of papers and show them how organized I am and can find anything they spot check. I can't picture why they might demand I open every safe deposit box I could? But… its a possibility. So? I have this other vault I made, for stuff like that."

   "You keep your goodies, outside of the gun shop."

   "I do. The gun shop? Is the downstairs, that first floor. The front doors open on it. The gun people have access to that lease. The rest of the building? Is not. You notice, you and me have separate doors in and out."

   "Give me the science boy lecture, again."

   "Hmm. In reality, remember the guy that owns the scrap yard and coal yard? That guy."

   "I remember him. The basement drilling guy, too."

   "Yes. He's the… everything has to be a corporation on paper guy. He… advised science boy. That's a separate episode, in and of itself."

   Merry urged him.

   "Go on…"

   "All right. The gun shop, and legal access to it? Is any and all grounds, that the gun shop itself as a legal entity in its own right? Gets observed as having. Therefore, the gun shop… as its own legal entity, mind you. Technically just a corporation on paper. It leases very specific vault and floor space and door access. This, limits any… gun police that come checking? From ransacking anything other than the downstairs and around the vault. The fact that I can go in through a back wall, with a key to a big steel door? Is besides the point. The other paper corporation? Owns the site, and leases part of it, to the gun shop entity."

   "My racquetball and tanning are off the books?"

   "Yes. Feel free to make any donations, but… no street tax on my honey. So, any fee you can get going, for a day's use of racquetball and tanning and lockers and showers? That's all you."

   Merry grinned.

   "So. Are we rich on paper?"

   He calculated.

   "We each have our own nest egg. We now just happen to have, another nest egg, together I guess. On paper? I get a paycheck from internet sales bullshit. Its just a number on a screen somewhere, to legitimize my taxes already paid, money I collect. On paper, the gun shop cost money to open up, and it will take it a while to generate enough slow profit to have covered it, and break into the black and out of the red ink."

   "So on paper, we do okay."

   "We do. We get by, we're on pace to outstrip opening expenses, and generate a profit one day. A corporation can be legally operated as a loss. I honestly make more money on chipping cars every year? Than I do at owning a gun shop. I try to be careful and keep that money separate. Its in the… our… nest egg safe."

   "I make more on pot sales, for my cover? Than I do as a barmaid part time, trust me. I think I pay more street tax, than I even make at the job I technically have."

   As long as Merry booted her laptop she filled with folders of male female relationship articles and papers properly, she simply made as short or as long as she felt like it email styled detailed daily observations. It could be nothing, or a long list of overheard dialog being dumped from memory. Technically he did as well, but he was allowed several lag days and bulk filing piles of uninteresting "just checking in" dailies. Merry filed many of these for him. The usual, they called it. He knew how to file hers as well. Nothing to report.

   Merry was standing there making what her and Panic euphemistically referred to as a "deposit". Putting in some substantial piece of… whatever into their secure nest egg under the bank. Gold and cash were primary deposits. The vault would take everything you could throw at it and then some, and the real treasure was somewhere else. Merry stood and gestured.

   "Like I care what it is. Its your… secret, secure shit? Then that's what it is."

   Merry grinned and looked around for comic effect.

   "I kind of like the… having to declare part."

   "All right, does the lady have anything to declare?"

   "She does…"

   "Well? Important government officials are waiting, little miss."

   "One military footlocker. Various stuff in it. There is also… a little black bag that is supposedly uncut diamonds. A pile of special papers, bonds. And… ounce bars of Platinum."

   "This doesn't sound like regulation."

   "Its not. Before I was a fed? I was a regular person. Helping out the authorities. When there was an opportunity where a safe was open? Well. We left enough to make it look good, but helped ourselves. That stuff I described? Plus some cash. Is what I like to call my second nest egg."

   "Your second."

   "I still have my on the books, triple yearly pay racking up. That's my… official nest egg. This is in addition to that."

   "I'm afraid to ask what the stones are worth, the paper…"

   "I admit, I have no idea about the stones. I was told, the stack of paper? Is bearer bonds. To contact a commodities dealer, he would know how to convert them. The platinum, by the way… is more expensive than gold many times over, per ounce."

   "And yet we still make regular deposits. Are we greedy?"

   "Where is the line between smart, and greedy. Where's it even at."

   He shrugged.

   "I think, as long as you're not hurting anyone to get it… not like it gives you license to take it, but… goes a long way to motive in my book. If its there, and it can be had? Why not."

   "I have a make hay while the sun shines speech burned into my mind. So, we're making hay."

   "If we do what we're doing now, for five years, not even ten? We quietly disappear and retire into… lord only knows what."

   Merry smiled.

   "Give me ideas."

   "Uhm, the biggest, and I mean the biggest? Hunting preserve anyone ever thought of before. Oodles of acres. They pay big to hunt a prime local herd if you have enough land its private hunting."

   "Is it a wise investment?"

   He shrugged.

   "Not the wisest, no. Not from the stand point of making as much as possible. Now, is it reasonably safe and also fun? Yes. We could also… within five, and definitely within ten years? Buy a small island if we wanted somewhere. I'm talking that kind of wealth. Or the ranch, or… I'm open to your ideas."

   "You're asking me, like I'm some kind of fountain of knowledge, what to do with ill gotten gains. Sorry. Not my job, just my hobby. I admit, I like the big property, ranch kind of thing. As in maybe. You get ideas, too."

   "Not really my field, either. We have… somewhat great wealth, the two of us together? Quite a bit, more in 5 to 10 years… and we have absolutely no fucking idea what to even do with it. Is that a fair and accurate statement?"

   Merry thought about it, and bit her thumb gently, nodding while she did it.

   "My thoughts? Are to quietly keep doing, what we've been doing. In 5, 10 years? Anytime you want, really. You can quit, with my blessings tomorrow. While we do it, though? I'm gonna milk it. I never get a chance to milk it, usually? So, I'm gonna milk it as best I can. I try not to think of it as greed? Though, I know its the beginnings of actual greed. If I can quietly… acquire? Why not."

   "You said next year, all the floorboards?"

   Panic grinned.

   "Works too easy, not to. I'll finally be in a financial position, to quietly have the cash on hand to finance the bigger, um, floor-boarding. Your two boys? Will make a few extra runs in the long run. They like that. You pay a little more street tax, you like that. Hell, everybody likes that. The seals work like magic, buy bales of pot next time, who gives a shit."

   "The boys at the club, now that the trials are finally over?"

   "Yeah."

   "They love your… old fashioned, summer rhubarb, 15 percent beer cider kegs."

   "They're chugging pitchers of it, huh?"

   "Just about. George, and you by the way… seem happy about that."

   "Well… how else can two weeks of prep and extra work, turn into that many gallons of 15 percent rhubarb wine, right? We're getting close to 250 gallon runs. I'm thinking about buying a tiny bottling setup, the minimum needed. To fill up plastic liter or two liter bottles. Hell, its adjustable, what I saw. Any size plastic jug. I was picturing gallon jugs of the expensive rhubarb 15 percent beer. Which is the idea George liked. When I pitched it. He never had bottling before. He always got by with the old wooden casks."

   "It makes money."

   "Well? Its a small one time cost, that never loses money from then on out. You see, George's grandfather? Was a wily old coot. He lived during the great depression, so he understood quiet moon-shining, and things like that. Hell. Back then? Tobacco growing wasn't a big money maker. About as much a commodity as cheap rope. In today's economy? If you can get cigarette packs made up and get them in there, well, sky's the limit. He has enough property, he can quietly grow some tobacco and actually try, because it can be such a cash crop now."

   "I heard you two plotting. Looking for an old cigarette rolling machine. A big one."

   "Its… a tiny commercial unit. You dump papers in the tube hopper, you put tobacco in the screens, and you let it go. It makes filtered cigarettes. If you have the paper cut outs, and the folding jig? You can roller paste yourself into packs of cigarettes that almost look like generic smokes."

   "And… your idea about… remote agriculture?"

   "We could, conceivably, mind you. Have a habit of hiking, horse riding, like that. We get out somewhere far enough, we can drop plants that are big enough? We leave in the night, we get into the woods and I mean back in, by first light? Yeah. I like the idea of a remote grow spot. We should be able to pack it out, if its successful. Again, we wait for dark to come in once we're local. I'll make trail cams. We'll know if we have visitors."

   "Actually sounds like fun."

   "I hope its fun."

   "So. What do you think of my friend coming in."

   "I can't believe I'm… allowed to like her? Encouraged to, really. I can't get over… some sense of a trap. Too good to be true, that sort of thinking."

   Merry smiled.

   "You're cautious. That's fine."

   "What are you smiling about now, hmm?"

   "Well, right this moment? I'm once again, floored by how I'm hearing the same static I heard, way back when. About the same thing. I told you, this makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over."

   "Our mutual friend. He didn't dive right into both of you girls, huh?"

   "Actually, no, he didn't. I kinda had to poke him in the ass with a stick. Its very… nostalgic. Loaded with a sort of deja vu feeling. For you to be nervous about it."

   "I do kind of like her."

   "You want me to say it? I will. She's a little prettier than I am. I know that. She's an inch shorter than me, she's actually 5'11", I just say I'm 5'11", I'm actually 6 even. Then? There's those legs. She's blonde, naturally. She's not as… muscular as I am."

   "You're actually not jealous of her?"

   Merry smiled.

   "God, no. You give extra… points to girls. For being tall, and being in shape. Me and her? We both faced that in college. We both enjoy you… handing out extra points to us tall strong girls. And, its not a trap, I can promise you."

   "Well. I've been putting off… what little gift could I get her. That showed I cared."

   Merry calculated.

   "You don't have to know exactly why, but… a soccer ball key ring? Would probably get you a squeal and a hug. Just say I suggested it, I'm sure that will get you the greeting card moment I think you have going."

   Panic paused.

   "So. It really doesn't hurt to talk about… our mutual friend?"

   Merry smiled.

   "No. You're indulging me. Playing along."

   He looked off, wondering.

   "So. Our mutual friend. You knew him. You know me. What would we have been like, meeting?"

   "Well. You're both naturally quiet, and polite. You both have the tough guy fighting practice all boy thing going on. You have both had… mentors. I'm seeing you, as the quiet tough guy special forces thing. He? Was the same thing but to all the MPs. I'm seeing you two… you? Would be the mentor, he would be another… like that. You both value this… gentlemanly thing. Like you are to Little Robbie? He would have been, to you. My best guess."

   He paused.

   "I don't make fun of religion, or anything like that. I admit, we both shared the same dog story. Finding your favorite dog again, and feeling like you somehow got more time with him. If you, get a similar thing out of me, well. Don't I want to give that to you? Plus… I admit it. If its all one big coincidence? Its a big one. No one can know for sure what's on the other side. I did die for a little bit, and crossed over. Who am I to tell you that I didn't pick up some of our mutual friend's… spirit, or essence. If the belief isn't harmful? I don't see the problem."

   "Well. Thanks for playing along, or more. Can I ask you your honest opinion on some more of it?"

   "Sure."

   "What about the part, where I told you what he said. That this other guy, when I finally saw him. If I traced it back, he would be going through some big change in his life, right now. Because when I go back and you give me a rough time line… they match more or less up. I let the universe make me into what it wanted, and let it put me where I needed to be. Me and Mike's case? Is bigger than big, its huge."

   He listened to her describe it.

   "He said, that we'd do this again, even bigger and better. And, I gotta say. Between both cases… and the extras along the way, it was big. Your case, my case ongoing. The extra two witch's guilty pleas. Can I claim to still be logical, to say that changing a winning formula is a bad thing, in general."

   "No. Its perfectly logical. I can think of a lot worse to use for a guideline or a rule of thumb. But experience and a winning formula to use for inspiration? I mean, why not."

   "Because. I guess its part of the winning formula. Me sitting back secretly, smiling. Feeling like I found my dog again. Its what I did, so… its part of the formula now, too."

   "So. In your version, or… interpretation of this. Is my soul at rest now?"

   "Hmm. In terms of revenge. First time around, you were hell on wheels, before you got shot in the back. By a dirty cop. This time around, you drilled the one that you ran into, and then… behind the bar, just happened. Its more than revenge, its coming back for ten times bigger of a bite this time. Your case, my case, the extra witches. We all did what the universe wanted, I guess."

   He grinned a little.

   "You're an agent of karma too."

   "Like you're not. I got the karma thing? From our mutual friend. I had years, after he was gone. Read a few karma books. Some you like, some you don't. I was… kind of homing in, on his own version of karma, and what it was like."

   "And what did your pet research into karma, lead you to?"

   "Well, being honest. Its neither a moral, nor an immoral decision, to decide to send bad karma back at people who put out bad karma. It just is. The universe has a big karma debt. It made people into what they became, and arranged them to take on this bigger karma debt."

   "All right. Anything else?"

   Merry paused.

   "When do we retire from it all. How do we both know when we're done. Doing everything the universe wanted done."

   "Well. Everyone in some way, is involved with the whole world. But, that's too big for any one person. Do I have any lingering… the one that got away? Sure. I do."

   Merry grinned and chuckled soft.

   "You're naughty multi billionaire. How many dead karma victims do you think he was ultimately on the hook for, your rough estimate?"

   "Oh. Thousands, and thousands more. It was a little war, is what it was. It was treated like it was something else. But, it wasn't. Thousands of innocent lives, and all the good guys we lost fighting it. I admit, I probably would take him on. If it came my way, I mean. If I found an angle I could work. He was my own personal Hitler. Greed, was behind my little war."

   "How would you take a run at him. You looked at him on… vacation before."

   "Quality security. Enough money and planning, into enough distance to make getting him that way. In one shot, one kill? Was impossible. I liked the idea of coming up from below, with scuba tanks. But… it has to be after dark. It has to be private. I have to know its him from below."

   "You think I could get him alone on his own private beach at night?"

   "I wouldn't want to expose you, to that level. So, no."

   "You have any other ideas, for him?"

   "Hmm. I had one, but… planning stages, you know."

   "Go on."

   "Rich people. They go on those cruises. If I could get a spot off camera somehow, I might have a chance."

   "How?"

   "If I'm off camera? I can go into the water with him. At night. I could make it, and what if he drowned. I never had a helper before. If the helper said I saw him trip and go in, then my boyfriend went in to get him… finding me would be, hey, you tried."

   "How safe is that, for you."

   "Well, before? How far out am I, in the ocean. If I pick a spot, where I'm reasonable from shore, I could trust myself to float on my back the right direction, and find shore. I liked the secrecy of it, I'm not big on the girlfriend helper."

   "That's your gut call. How about… me, backup nearby in another boat. I get warning, maybe a GPS signal…"

   "Hmm. That's working. Smaller boats, always follow big boats like that. The big party boats? Are going to party spots to park. Makes sense to be just another boat between two ports of call. I wonder how hard it would be, to get credible numbers on the boat. They have little electronic transponders, too. You want a quality faked signal, blend in. As long as you boated away, and quietly assumed a different transponder and identity anyways… it could work. Food for thought."

   "You don't sound too excited."

   "I can suppose all I want. If I can't get him peeled away from billionaire security dudes? He's a billionaire. They're his security. Its hard to part them. You can see, about this one. Its as much of a crossword puzzle as anything else. I've had some crazy ideas, trust me. To give you some idea, how to think outside the box. If you were interested."

   "Sure…"

   "Now. Tribute. No great man, can resist the siren's call of everyone massaging his ego, how wonderful he is. I got to thinking, maybe I could use that. I need a thing, an art thing… then I use that."

   "An art… thing."

   "Yeah. Example? We dedicate this statue to the great man. Give it to him, if I have to. I bet you, dollars to donuts… if I send him a statue I see him standing near it in news photos eventually. He won't be able to resist."

   "And how do you use that?"

   "That's the crazy part. I was thinking… explosives inside a metal statue. Shrapnel. I'd have to know he was at the statue though. You know, shaking hands with it for a photo op? Or… discharge a big capacitor when he's shaking hands. Its as close as I can get to a plan. Its not much."

   "You really hate him, don't you?"

   "Hate is such a strong word. And yes, I hate him. I'm sure of it. He didn't get thousands of enemy combatants killed, he got thousands of innocent villagers killed. Otherwise? Hate is a negative emotion. I dwell on hate too much, it'll throw my game off. I prefer to treat it like an intellectual exercise."

   "Another crossword puzzle for you."

   "Is that so bad?"

   Merry smiled.

   "Its cute. Endearing, even. You have, what my favorite grandma would have called the Sherlock Holmes gene. Little kid with a magnifying glass trying to figure everything out. Its the real you, underneath it all. I like it."

   He paused.

   "What about you, Merry. Is there a real you, underneath it all. You've told me about Mary the waitress."

   She thought about it.

   "Yeah. There is."

   "Your friend."

   Merry smiled.

   "Your new girlfriend?"

   "Yeah…"

   Merry smiled back.

   "What about her."

   "Is she… like you? I don't mean it the wrong way, but… faking it. You? You're more Mary the original waitress than anyone else. Is she…"

   "She… this is complicated. Can this wait until she's in next time? She works that 20 days on, ten days off schedule."

   He chuckled.

   "Yeah. Day one, to day 20, working. The rest of the month, is hers."

   Merry grinned.

   "Another city thing. Its a DC thing, that schedule. She doesn't work for the government office that runs that schedule? But, they make their living off of that office, so… they have the same schedule."

   He looked up and off. Why was she telling him this again.

   "Panic? I'm telling you, so we can all have this talk when she's in next time. Okay?"

   Talking about "the trials", the Dirty Dozen case… was a supposing what if, child like talk about it. Neither one really looked forward to the whole thing. The next time "Zarina" was in for her 10 days, they had that talk.

   They were on the one big couch, between movies and snacks, and still in the middle of talking. The newcomer was starting to sit and lay on them more like one of the couple. She looked up at him, with her head in his lap. This required rolling over, so her grinning face was pointed up at him. She had been previously still in "TV" position, in case the next movie happened.

   "Merry told me about this. Its okay…"

   They proceeded to broach the subject.

   "So… tell me this, then. That soccer ball key-ring you gave me. I figure, Merry told you to get it, right?"

   He nodded.

   "Still shows you cared."

   He was confused.

   "Well. You had to ask her. Hey, Merry. What would be a thoughtful gift, instead of a mindless gift… to get for Zarina. Then, she tells you. That was very sweet, the way I saw it. Do you want to know why, the soccer ball?"

   He nodded.

   "All right. Its not like you think, I can bet you. I played soccer, so I like the key-ring, right? Not at all. I… actually have a… well, its a relationship, is what it is, really… with a soccer ball. There, I said it. I? Have a real relationship. With a soccer ball."

   He looked confused. She smiled and went slowly.

   "If I told you, oh, I don't know… that I kept this one teddy bear, from childhood? You'd understand that, right? Sure, you might think its… weird or creepy? But, what the hell, right? I mean, you grasp the concept, that way."

   "If by grasp the concept, you mean… do I know what a teddy bear is? Then yes. If its something else, don't assume I'm following along yet."

   "Well… what if… the teddy bear? Was… a Teddy Ball, instead of a teddy bear. That's what I have. A Teddy Ball. There. I said it. There we go."

   "Okay. So… instead of a teddy bear, you were a soccer star. You, have a Teddy Ball instead."

   "Not exactly. But… close enough. Look… before I was… with Merry and our mutual friend? I was just with people. To be with them."

   He scanned her face.

   "I'm missing something, that's what I'm guessing."

   "Well. You're missing the big part I lied to you about. There's that. I guess I could start there."

   "All right."

   "Remember, when I said I was best friends. With the victim?"

   "I do."

   "Well… that might have been one of those things. You know the old joke. Asking for a friend? In this case, I really was. You heard about the rape case, as a separate thing, right?"

   He nodded.

   "So, you know the general plot line. How… bad it was."

   He nodded again.

   "That was me. I thought I was a normal 13 turning 14 girl, and… boom. I spent 14 to 18… in a kind of daze. School and soccer, that was it. And? I had… Teddy Ball. I didn't have any friends. I had a ball for a friend. I know. Its creepy, its psychotic. I'm okay with that."

   "You talk to a soccer ball. I can live with that."

   "Okay, not bad. One final twist, and you're home free."

   "Shoot."

   "Uh… the ball is in charge. Of the relationship. I do what he says. He's always right."

   "Between you and the ball, really."

   Merry piped up softly.

   "I talked to Teddy before. I know it sounds crazy. But, it works. You concentrate on asking the Teddy Ball, and… you do the voice, and its the truth. Teddy can't lie."

   He looked at her and smiled politely.

   "Not the kind of thing you go around telling people on a first date. If you're at your wits end? It helps."

   The guest cut back in.

   "I was the original… victim. I had my ball. When we lost… our mutual friend? She sometimes talked to the ball. If that explains that part."

   "Someone close died. The ball happens. I can see it happening."

   "There's more significance to the ball, than just the obvious. I was just dating boys, after I escaped? To date them. I had phobias… I couldn't go on dates. I couldn't get in cars with boys. I was a hot mess. That's how the case got started. I couldn't have a real relationship. Merry and our mutual friend? They showed me what a real relationship was like. I'd never know what one was, without seeing it myself."

   He asked.

   "Okay. I get that, too. How does that relate to the ball, though…"

   "Oh. Another phobia. Couldn't accept goods or payments of any kind, for being with a boy. Not even presents. I told you, I was in therapy. I was a hot mess. The key-chain soccer ball? That… was the first real… gift… I could accept, from a boy. Our mutual friend. My Teddy Ball? Had a little friend. They talked and had little play dates."

   It started to sink in now, with him.

   "I've been concentrating on her boyfriend. May I ask what your personal life turned into, what… nine, ten years later? Now that we're dating, and all."

   "Uhm. A series of… short term… things. I get by."

   "And… you liked the key ring. Because I cared enough to ask."

   She smiled and nodded her head.

   "You wanna meet Teddy? He's in the trunk… Merry wouldn't say no, to meeting him."

   Merry ended up taking the keys and getting "Teddy Ball" out of the trunk and into the bank's studio apartment, with them. Merry did say hi to the ball. Teddy ball slept much like a teddy bear in bed with them. The next morning, Zarina suggested that her and Teddy show them "what they could do".

   The bag that Teddy came in, had both outdoor and indoor soccer spikes. The "white flats" were selected as harmless for the marble. Then, Teddy Ball and Szarabjorna Sturmer put on a "pinball" show for a new audience member. Merry liked seeing the demonstration inside her marble racquetball courts. She showed off her ability to hit her mark, wherever it was? From anywhere else in the practice room. But the lightning fast flashes of right, left, right, left zipping into and back out of a corner that quick, that crowned it.

   Watching the flashes of white lines as she "pinball-ed" right and left feet into a corner rhythmically fast, that was her trademark thing. Merry could do some of her own soccer workout, but nothing like the show she could put on. Merry and Zarina promised him a peek at her "training DVD" they once had made of her.

   After they ate, and were sitting around talking on the couch… it happened. Zarina laid down on Panic's leg and smiled up at him. A little. She thanked him for not making fun of her talking to a ball. She admitted, that she might be a little more "fragile" than he might think from seeing her outward appearance.

   She continued to give him a little, thin grin or smile.

   "So. I can picture where you'd be interested in who I was. What about you?"

   "Weird childhood and teens. Service. Air Force, computer programmer. After that? I went for style points. I joined a private military contractor group. I did that for years, and I retired. I was happy about being retired? When this… Smiley case just kind of stuck out to me."

   Zarina chuckled.

   "I have a question. When regular people think something is fishy? They tell a couple people. Those people, say oh yeah, I think you're right. How… does something actually happen."

   "Got a state cop, almost retired? Got him interested. He, was able to get a friend at the FBI interested. Now, my original plan, and hell the state cop's plan too. Was that when the whole Roman army took over? We were done."

   "And, that's how you meet Merry?"

   "Yeah. I guess if the whole Roman army took over, like it was supposed to do? I wouldn't meet her. And, meeting her? Ended up helping my case."

   "How did Merry…"

   Merry smiled and piped up, sticking her index finger up in the air.

   "He met my Uncle Mikey… that's what helped his case."

   "Well Merry… I remember the boys were always planning in the basement. It went on a long time. Until Mike started showing up. Then, stuff started happening."

   Merry cut back in.

   "See, it was all a bunch of guys in their spare time, coordinating it privately. They just happened to have the ability to do it, being cops and all. Target? Was just some FBI agent in on the whole thing. Now, Target knew he could call state police and do things. But, when the time came he needed something official? Mike happens."

   "So… on his case, Mike happened, too."

   Merry wagged her head calculating.

   "Yeah."

   "The hell does Mike do, anyways. Target does… basically vice."

   "Mike coordinates long range cases, that's his main thing. The joke name for his job at work? Stagecoach driver. You gotta sit in that rickety little seat for six months, to get anywhere."

   Panic eyed both of them up.

   "I have a question."

   Merry asked for who.

   "Merry. If everything is so secret and so important? Why does your college soccer team mate know all about Uncle Mike and the FBI and everything else? Hmm?"

   Merry chuckled.

   "There were four of us in that townhouse, originally. One girl killed herself. Went away and hung herself. We had to go and track her down. Also me, her, and another girl. The other girl? The one FBI agent that kept coming in to do the case, was going through a divorce. So… that's her boyfriend. They got married after college. When he switched from his big city, to Washington DC? It was a promotion for him. Then? I got you. Working around DC. Where I'm Merry the waitress. The problem I have? Is DC. What you're seeing, Panic? Are the people that knew me in real life. My parents for instance. They know I went off to join the FBI and was talking about it. My room mates would be some of the only other people that knew. And if everyone hadn't of decided… hey, let's all meet up in DC? Nobody but my parents would know."

   Merry's guest started counting off.

   "Not that many. Your parents and whoever else that means… me, Target and Uncle Mike. Elise. Right. Sunny, who lives on the other side of the country now with her husband and kids. Other than your family, you can count us on one hand."

   "All security risks."

   "Family and friends, are security risks?"

   "Yeah. Basically, they are. They know you."

   "Weird life…"

   "I know…"

   "What made you pick up on his case? Something stand out."

   "Really? There's always a moment."

   Panic and the guest now both urged Merry to relate her moment. When his case made her want to get it to where it needed to get to. Uncle Mikey.

   "You let me read your notes on it, eventually. I remembered the husband and wife, that had the friend from high school got murdered. The Bobby with a y kid."

   "Yeah. I remember those interviews."

   "I just read them. But… the husband and wife, had a third member. I remember they called themselves the three musketeers, that was the group nickname. Well… that reminded me of my own three musketeer days. We both, have a case of a missing third musketeer. By foul play. That's when it became all personal for me."

   Panic reminded her.

   "We still have the… reveal party. At the club, in Pittsburgh. You're describing Bobby. That's the club he got murdered from. Bobby was one of the three musketeers. I know the couple you're describing their notes. We've been putting the reveal party off, until as close to the case starts trial as we can."

   "Can I take her?"

   Panic grinned.

   "If you don't think it'll make your doctor girlfriend jealous, go right ahead."

   They had to explain themselves to her, and a big party sounded like fun.

   "You know my schedule. Make it in the middle of one of my ten days off? I'll go."

   Merry grinned.

   "Remember our… mutual friend? We had just gotten to the celebration part. He missed that. He gets to celebrate this time."

   Panic laughed.

   "I don't think of the damn trials as… exactly celebrating."

   "Well, not that part. But, the its over part. The Bobby party."

   "If you hadn't noticed, I've been doing my best to keep off of TV and away from reporters. But, we both know. Once the trial gets going? It'll be like a castle under siege trying to get in and out every day we're there. Now. Get that over with? I'll see how fun it is."

   "For one thing, would you try calling me Light, or Little Lightning? Its what I'm used to. Zarina is just a work name to me."

   "Okay."

   "And for another… for what its worth? I think I know where some of the tension and awkwardness of this is."

   "Well? Go for it."

   Lightning sighed.

   "We can't expect you to just do A, B and don't forget C. Because of our mutual friend back then. It doesn't work like that. That? Was then. Circumstances were different. Hurry had her own relationship with him, and I had mine. But right now… me, you, her? We now do our own thing. Whatever that is. Unless, you want alone time with me, at first, maybe? Just wondering. If it would make it more normal or relaxing for you to try it."

   "Maybe. I just… I hate this whole spotlight feeling about it. Its supposed to be something you hide in a dark room and giggle… not a spectator participation sport. I signed up for a girlfriend, you know. Not some… lady mud wrestler."

   "Merry? We could do mud wrestling, couldn't we? Call it a mud spa. Mud treatments are a real thing."

   Merry laughed.

   "I think mud wrestling was the exact opposite of what he signed up for."

   Merry ceded the floor back to Light.

   "Its just an example. If we decided to go and take a mud treatment somewhere? Fine."

   Merry giggled.

   "Science girl? Says that playing in the mud, would be a bonding experience."

   Panic mused aloud.

   "We can bond more when its warm out. When its a 100 degrees in the shade? A mud pit around dark would be just the thing."

   The newcomer Light proved to be able to say just the right thing at just the right time… to make a person do a double take. Case in point, they were sitting there at the big marble converted "dining table". They were all seated around one corner, for intimacy. They were done with trying the opposite ends of the table. Light was commenting on the "grandeur" of the giant marble table. Panic was explaining that it was just "the table" that people filled out deposit and withdrawal slips on. It is where it is, he doesn't think he could move it without breaking it. Which was when she decided it was one of those times to make him spit his drink out through his nose.

   "So why don't I marry this one, sis?"

   Merry stopped and smiled, taken aback. She pressed on, smiling.

   "It would make sense. I actually found the last one? Fed it to you. You were the one going to be married, and I was going to be the silent partner. Well? This time around, I'm assuming you can't marry him because of work or something. So, I'll be gracious, and offer to marry him and lock him down for you. Until you're ready. Then? I'll let him go. I wouldn't do this, for just anybody."

   Merry laughed politely.

   "I'm actually more or less inclined to think its a good idea, Light. You have to convince him… not me."

   "What. You'd play second banana this time around?"

   "You tell me once, either me or… our mutual friend… ever once treated you like a second banana."

   "That's just it, Merry. You guys? Never did. But… I was the other girl to the rest of the world."

   "Like I said. You have to convince him, not me. I like the idea."

   Panic made a giant "T" in the air with his hands.

   "Time out. Turns out? I'm… actually in the room. We can just ask me, what I think."

   "Well, of course you don't like the idea. Me and her? I'm guessing we're half joking, half serious."

   "I'm… somewhere in there."

   Panic was grinning, but also looking at them as if he wanted to strangle them for comic effect. The way the new girlfriend was smiling at him? He was either going to get more of the same, or… it was time for her to even out her conversation. She went for even.

   "I know something else that's different."

   He studied her smiling eyes.

   "Afraid to ask…"

   "If you remember, Merry. He was on the prowl for a girlfriend. I think that's the problem here. Originally, he was coming up to me. I, then passed him onto you. He hasn't gone through his… cycle yet."

   Now Merry was curious.

   "Cycle?"

   "He liked looking at me for the longest time. Then? It faded. He thought I was silly. Then, he came around and actually liked me."

   Merry went with it.

   "Okay. Which phase are we in, then."

   "Well. I try to not be conceited, but… I could have sworn when I first got here, I caught him looking at my legs. You know, he's not really looking. He'll look away politely if he thinks you're noticing. So, that's out of the way. He looks."

   Merry smiled.

   "So, how do you know he's still looking at your legs? He could have gotten to the… she's silly part."

   "Hmm. I assume he's just gotten better at looking. It was hard to catch him looking the first couple times. I figure, he looks all he wants now and he's just good enough not to get caught."

   "So. Is he in the she's so silly phase yet?"

   "Or getting there."

   Merry smiled.

   "And what broke this spell last time?"

   "Hmm. I started using big words around him."

   In the course of quite a short time, Panic asked another time about what she did at work.

   "Where I work, they call me a… Media Manager. If I worked somewhere else? I'm not 100 percent sure exactly what my job would be or what title I'd get. I'm starting to guess anyways, though."

   "Well, what do you… do?"

   "I'd have to show you. Mind if I get my laptop?"

   He shook his head no, and she was soon showing him what she did for a paycheck. She had him start browsing the internet. She gave him "ideas" what they were looking for.

   "My job? One part is, people sit around and discuss what kind of media they want to see. I'm expected to get them samples, so they can choose. None of my work would ever get seen. Watch. We said… we need cute girls in pajamas, right? Let's see…"

   A quick search bar typing of "cute girls in pajamas" produced a predictable string of hits. Light efficiently went down the line, and looked at several. She went back and marked them, then opened up a little box on the screen and clicked it. The pictures and videos she had flagged were downloading. One was slower, the others were all done. He watched as she opened up the videos in some gigantic software package and click click clicked a number of times.

   She had cut snippets of videos of "cute girls in pajamas" up and spliced them together quickly. She could play the clip she had hastily assembled, and make it run faster or slower. A few more clicks, had the screen softly glowing and blowing fake smoke around when the little clips switched from one to the next.

   She picked a little music clip pretty much at random. It was longer than the clip. A few more clicks, and her pajamas clip had slowed down from the fast clips and rushes to a more sedate show. The fake digital smoke and fumes and light bars that slowly built and receded for change overs came in between slow motion cute girls, prancing around in their PJs. As the final note of the little classical sounding clip she had mated to it died, the screen went black.

   "I whip something up, or find stuff. So people can see if that's what they were really thinking."

   "That's all you do?"

   "No. Once we find professionals, to make the perfect pajama party video? I'll watch over that, and report on progress or lack of it. When shooting is wrapped? You have post production."

   "You… make movies? Commercials…"

   "Not where I work. Usually training films. If you work for any kind of government agency, there's a bunch of times people all go to see films. My part of work, we seem to specialize in the 5 to 20 minute kind. 40 minutes is my record. So… no, I can't lay out and oversee shooting of a movie, and edit it all together? No… now, 15 minutes out of that movie? If its a documentary, maybe…"

   Panic was absorbed in looking at all the cool software bric a brac.

   "So… what are you, if you worked somewhere else, then."

   "Like I said? I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be a producer… more like one of the people helping them, I guess. So, and I'm guessing here. Assistant Producer… assistant to the Producer? Something like that."

   "You don't wanna make more money as an Assistant Producer somewhere else?"

   "More money? Of course. More prestige? Again, of course. But… I have a good job. My job is secure. True, I can't profit off of the next big commercial and land a gig working in real movies helping out. But, since I make training and recruiting in house stuff? Its steady work, too. I only slowly learned what I would be somewhere else, over the years."

   "Now that you know the difference, what would you do?"

   "Hmm. Probably start what they call an editing house. See, its hard to figure out what the next greatest thing to film is. Its also hard to actually try to film it. Also? You got your styles coming in and out, what's fashionable and in demand at the moment. But… no matter what. Editing? Is here to stay."

   Panic was drawn in now.

   "Really…"

   Light smiled, she had him now.

   "Yes. Think back to film days. At first? You just had the film. You cut and spliced the film together by hand back then. You actually made the film in those days, so to speak. Then? Someone came up with sound. Now, you had to cut and splice the film, and the soundtrack too. Then one day? Color. Another day? Stereo. But through it all? Cutting and splicing the film itself, was a constant."

   "Now we're digital. No more film."

   "No. But the digital cutting and splicing replaces it."

   "Is the digital easier?"

   She mused.

   "Hmm. Yes and no. Here. Sit closer… I'll give you a little tour. A… tale of Two Editors…"

   "And… this… is the bunny slope. And? Its easier than it looks. Its what you expect. You can go through the clip, frame by frame. You can cut and paste the clip around. But… its only rough cutting. You're stuck only cutting and splicing at special control frames. When you want to make the cut there, and the nearest control frame is seconds away? Hello, decisions. This, is the little one."

   "And if you want to cut anywhere, not just on magic frames?"

   She closed the little one, and opened the big, giant, imposing one again.

   "Anyone can cut and edit video. But… making the jump up, to the big editor, like this one here? I can barely use, like, six fucking things on this monster. I only have to use it? Because this one lets you render out cuts on any frame."

   "A place, a bunch of computers…"

   "Basically, yeah. You need a computer guru, that won't lose your files. And the more workstations you can get running? The bigger job you can chop up and edit. Now. The workstations themselves. The latest, greatest workstation? Is, like… 20 grand. Now. The workstation you wish you could have afforded 10 years ago? Is about 900 dollars now. That's what you go with. Every couple years? You keep pace with what's used and what's ancient."

   "So. That's what you now wish you could do. An editing house."

   "More or less? Yeah. No matter what's in, what's out with the rest of video at the minute? Sound, everything else. You get much over 15 minutes? Its a nightmare to edit it all. You start looking to sending it out. There's everything from bottom feeder cheap pornography cutters, to famous major motion picture editing houses."

   "How do you move up?"

   "You don't really move up. Now, your clients? They might move. And… they want you again. The cutting house that did the 15 minute cutting and editing job for the up and coming young documentary producer? Guess which cutting house he wants to use when he finally lands a two hour documentary and has a budget…"

   "I'm almost afraid to ask how much per minute, people earmark for editing."

   "No special effects, no complicated editing, no director wanting to babysit every cut and splice personally. A thousand dollars a minute is usually about right for competent entry level work. A one minute commercial? Can cost a thousand in editing easy. And yeah. An hour long documentary? 60 grand per hour."

   "You know how to make a movie?"

   "There's a person that makes cages for canaries… another person makes cages for elephants. I do the canary cages."

   "And canary cages are steady money."

   "They are where I work. And over the years, a few outsiders have made jokes I'd make more if I knew how."

   "You ever think of trying to have your own editing house?"

   "I'm saving up. I've been saving up now, for nine years or more. Merry. Remember the gift cards?"

   Merry smiled.

   "Sure."

   "That's almost nine years of the gift cards alone, every month. Add a chunk of my paycheck onto it and I live cheap, and…"

   Merry mused aloud.

   "You have a nest egg, and you think you want to have a cutting house for a retirement job."

   "More or less. Its a niche market. See… no one but millionaires can afford to spend a thousand dollars a minute of finished product. But… all those training films, and safety films at all those jobs? They turned from film to digital, too. Businesses and school systems, have tens of thousands of dollars to spend, and they want a polished product. Not… cell phone videos."

   "Where would you get employees?"

   "Honestly? I'd head back to my college campus. There's a whole A/V department. Get interns."

   "Where would you locate the cutting house at in real life?"

   "More business, in certain cities. But… you can do the work anywhere."

   "Do you have things like… a website, examples of your work…"

   "Hell yeah. The two things that are the most important…"

   "Which are?"

   "The big… IT computer. That feeds the workstations. That's, like… Mount Everest. The other big ticket item, is work to bring with you. Every once in a while, I meet people that would like me to do jobs for them, and I can't because I already have a job doing it."

   "How often does that happen, though. Lost business."

   "Once or twice a year, easy. And people looking for a new place? Typically have a little backlog of their little projects they do."

   He tented his fingers under his chin.

   "How many 900 dollar workstations do you need or wish for."

   "A dozen, minimum. Two dozen once things started humming."

   "That's 12 to 24 thousand. What kind of building?"

   "Anything, really. A suggestion, though?"

   "Sure."

   "The building doesn't really matter. It matters more how you structure the work environment."

   "They get stuck in cubicles?"

   "You can. Or broom closets, or big tables. Look. The building and where you put it? Isn't half as important as how you run them. If you let them do whatever they want? Around the office or building… happy cutting crew. You can't run it, like… its a regular office, or a corner gas station."

   "How much do these cutters make?"

   "Interns? Minimum wage, or even free. Cutters you keep on, vary. You can pay by the hour, or even by the minute of product, once they have experience."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. You have a product, and its worth a thousand dollars a minute. If a cutter can manage two or three minutes a day, well… you can pay them that way. Say, a hundred dollars a minute of finished cut."

   Panic cradled the sides of her cheeks with his own hands.

   "Dear. If its such a great idea? Why haven't you done it already…"

   "Its the main computer. Having an IT room, and an IT guru."

   He sat down and stared off into space. She waved her hand in front of his face and everything. He put his palm out to Merry.

   "Junior…"

   She selected the phone number for him, and he just had to wait through the rings. She put it on speaker for him. Eventually, a guy answered the speaker call.

   "Yeah… Junior here."

   "Hey. You know the voice?"

   "Unfortunately."

   "Funny. I have a legit computer question."

   "Okay…"

   "Picture having a dozen, or two dozen… workstations."

   "All right."

   "Assuming I have a building or room or whatever I need… what does my main computer look like."

   "Well… what's the whole thing doing…"

   "They'd be editing video."

   "Oh. Yeah, we process graphics too. Thing is? Its not really a computer in the basement, you just need a bank of hard drives. There is no… main computer. Not anymore."

   "How expensive would it be? Ballpark it, Junior."

   "I have no idea how many hard drives you need. But, the hardware, used? Is cheap as shit. You're just describing addressable storage. Its just a matter of how many hard drives you wanna buy, at that point."

   "That's fast enough, for editing video?"

   "Well. You only need access to the file itself. Extra storage space for all the million different versions till you're done. This doesn't have to go out over the internet, this is in house only, right?"

   "Definitely."

   "In house, I'll feed my own T-base 10, or fuck it… T-base 100 line. Big files go quick. Hardware doesn't cost anything, really… as long as we install it ourselves. Like I said, Panic. As many hard drives as you wanna buy."

   "So. A couple grand, and we could make this in a building. Right?"

   "Easy. No internet access, in house only? Very easy."

   "All right. I'm going to give the phone over to someone else. Non techie? Will describe what they want. You just… absorb it, and tell me what I need."

   The trials were the first monumental thing to kick off in Merry and Panic's little world, that indicated things were starting to come to a close. Panic finally had his "walk through" of the "crime scene", IE… he joked with a couple of IA investigators for a few minutes before they all headed out to lunch on quite amiable terms.

   The only real "investigative question" any of them asked, was just the one guy, and he didn't press the issue too hard.

   "Just one thing."

   Panic shrugged to ask what it was.

   "Okay. I'm seeing this. Cat alerts you to wake up, and the door handle, its moving. You get out the hole in the bathroom. You get your lady friend down those stairs, at that end… and you…"

   "I check to make sure her ass is across the street and out of sight, and? That no one is eyeballing me. Now guys… I don't know if this is a burglary, a hit, what the hell's going on. I'm racing my brain, trying to think up some way, its all right for the door to open by itself at the wee hours and its not a bad thing."

   The IA investigator looked at him.

   "You never thought… cops?"

   "Yeah, I did. Funny thing about cops though… they like to announce they're cops, you know? Uniforms. Painted cars and lights. Radios and people talking on them. Now I'm looking at my girl's own front door from the outside, and… no cop cars. No radios. No uniforms. No lights. Nothing."

   "Well. You're outside your room. What can you hear?"

   "I guess a jet airliner in the parking lot, I might of heard that…"

   The other investigator started laughing now.

   "He said he fired a round in the tunnel. I'm amazed he has any eardrums left at all."

   "Okay, I forgot about the tunnel round. Just… how do you get from down there, to here… show me."

   So Panic imitated it for him. He took his clip out of his own gun, took his round out of the chamber. After checking it three times in a row, he tossed it to the nearest IA investigator.

   "Clear it a few more times. So I have a stage prop."

   He demonstrated where he was, he sees Merry is gone and out of sight. He showed how he holds his gun, how he walked down, head on a swivel. His little "tactical peek" around the edge of the open front door after an in the head count of "on three".

   Then he verbally indicated he was going to do another silent "on three" count and come around the door enough to get a sight picture.

   "So… you're ready to shoot the guy now. I mean, you can either stay, or… skin out. You stayed."

   "Well… given the fact I shot him that night, yeah, I stayed."

   "I'm not getting in your shit when I say this, but… you have every chance to get away, and you keep coming back."

   "Then I'm not getting back in your shit, when I say that I was told, off the record, that I didn't need a lawyer to come to my walk through."

   The other, oldest IA guy there waved his hands and cut the whole line of conversation off at the pass before it even had a chance to get going in any real manner.

   "Both of you. Stop. Now, Panic? We're not asking you questions like this, because we're thinking about doing anything."

   "You, that's fine. I got the city prosecutors to deal with too, right?"

   "No. FBI agent in a fatal shooting and its off the books from work. City can't touch this, and quite frankly only IA can hit this from inside the bureau. The reason we're asking you stuff like this? Its not like someone else isn't going to be asking the same exact questions sometime in the near future."

   The other IA guy smiled a little.

   "Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say we were coaching you on what to say about your incident. Look. Walk through? It was over, five minutes before it began. But? Since we're all guys, and we're all friends… no law says we can't stay and bullshit, talk some shop. You know?"

   Panic grinned.

   "Boys? Let me shorten this conversation. I spent several years in the service, then I spent several years working as a civilian security contractor. If someone who knows how to write this report up better than I do, were to write it up? I could sign off on it. What would be best?"

   They both smiled back. Everybody was on the same page now.

   "First lets hear how you answer that question, about why you come back instead of run and hide. I mean, answer it raw. Then? Maybe we can tighten it up some."

   "All right. Its 3 or 4 in the morning. I get woken up being smothered to keep me quiet. Door handle keeps moving. My girl, who is in bed with me and woke me up? Has, supposedly, the only key. Except for the owners, but… she whispers in my ear they never come in, least of all in the middle of the night sneaking like this."

   "Sounds scary…"

   "It is. Now, follow this from my point of view. Whoever this is, they don't have a key. But? If it wasn't for the cat waking her up, we'd have never heard them coming in. I mean, those couple seconds I watched the door handle moving slowly… I was actually impressed how quiet it was. And remember… they got in. Quietly. Fairly quickly, without a key. I mean, no one knows how long the cat watched and listened before waking her up and she wakes me up? No way of knowing. But… within seconds, we're in that tunnel, and I can see someone at the door to the tunnel following us. They got in, quick and quiet, with no key."

   "Someone might say… hey, maybe its just a robbery."

   "Okay. Then why follow me into the tunnel? If you want robbery, that's best accomplished by staying in the room we just sneaked out of. Do they do that? Stay and rob the place? No… poking in the tunnel door. Which tells me? This ain't no goddamn robbery. And if it ain't a robbery, what's left for it to be."

   "So… what are you saying."

   "I'm saying… once he tries to come into the tunnel, it ain't a robbery. Now, I gotta get this guy before he gets me next time. Or, I'm dead. I realize, I got lucky with the cat picking up on this early."

   "Okay. Right there. That's the point where you start claiming self defense. Real simple, too. Hey. Someone's coming in to kill me at 3 or 4 in the morning, I'd have never heard him coming in. Its me or him. Now, self defense allows you to do a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g to preserve your life."

   "Including, peeking around the door to see what the hell's going on, and…"

   Both IA guys looked at each other, and nodded their heads "yes".

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah…"

   "You might have noticed. You only had one quick, informal, off the record quiz on this. No one's been writing anything down yet. Now, is a great time for us to figure out exactly how it happened."

   Panic grinned.

   "Is there… one or more parts in particular, you'd like to go over? Going over stuff, hey… jogs my memory circuits, too."

   "The part where you fired first. In the tunnel."

   "What about it?"

   "You said you could see someone at the door to the tunnel."

   "Yeah. I'm trying to escape. Here's the person coming quiet in the middle of the night? Following me into the tunnel. So yeah, I fired first. Remember. I still don't know what's going on, if there might still be some rational explanation for this. So? I gonged that steel access door. They won't follow me… and just in case this is all something legit, I didn't kill the guy yet."

   The IA guys looked around at each other and back.

   "Any chance… I don't know… maybe, the person in the tunnel door… you can see what looks like a gun that's in the one hand, maybe like that…"

   The other IA guy nodded.

   "I mean, sure, hey, why not, you know? Tunnel guy had a gun on him. Used it. Fired it. Shot him in his shoulder. No reason in the world he couldn't have had it in his hand."

   Panic nodded with them.

   "Oh, definitely. You guys like it like that?"

   They chuckled, and the oldest guy bantered a little.

   "Yeah. Now that we're talking about it? We better find out right now, if its possible to see something in someone's hand, in that tunnel."

   They flipped a coin, and the loser had to crawl up the tunnel and take a cell phone movie and picture of the partner at the tunnel access door, with a gun in his hand. After a few tries, they got it perfect.

   "Okay. So, now that the guy sneaking in has a gun… and its not a robbery… now I can see him peeking around the door."

   The other IA noted there were no other witnesses other than Panic himself at this point, then added to it.

   "You sure you didn't ask the guy if he was a cop or anything?"

   "I could have. Remember I told you, how many times. He holds the badge up, yells police, and shoots… all at once."

   The one looked at the other.

   "Okay. Hey, who are you. Are you a cop or something? Bang!"

   The other nodded back.

   "That's his shoulder… he returns fire."

   "Yeah. I like that. Question though… was the bathroom lights on? Or dark."

   "We had all the lights off to go to sleep. I didn't wanna turn on a light around a door to let them know we were up."

   "Yeah, but… we can't get a good view of a gun in the hand at the tunnel, without the lights on, and the angle being right."

   "Since you already told us how many times you closed the bathroom door, at that point I could see you turning the bathroom light on, to work on the access panel."

   As it turned out? Those two had been a "dry run" for the real walk through they conducted "officially" the next day. Same two guys, no mention of meeting the day previous. A third and fourth guy were with them now. Panic related the "slightly updated" story with his live walk through. The shooting hearing itself, was over before it started. Uncle Mike had been right on that count. It was like everyone wanted the hearing over as quickly and painlessly as possible.

   Dirty FBI agent, killed in the act of trying to sneak in and kill a witness against him and his partner. It was a dead cat in the woods, and no one wanted to swing it around any more than was strictly necessary. Panic was relieved to see this come to pass. Now, the main Dirty Dozen trial as it came to be known in the press? Well, that was another story.

   The defense for the dirty cops and all their friends? Was predictably thin as hell. With no other readily apparent ammunition at hand, their defense lawyers did what they could do. Which naturally amounted to complaining loudly about anything and everything Panic did or said. Attacking Merry, his side's lawyers explained… was a no no that would piss off the jury. Leaving him as the only target.

   When the exchange got heated while he was on the stand regarding how many times he fired back, Panic kept his cool. When the attorney finally asked why that many, Panic calmly replied as patronizingly as he could manage.

   "I have 14 in my clip. I kept shooting until he went down, and I ran out of ammunition. But yes, that is how many rounds of ammunition my gun had in it. You keep asking why that number of times? Because that's how many I had."

   In the end, the defense could only "attack" the prosecution with meaningless gestures of legal dust devils. The dead partner, killed while trying to rub out the witness? Made the still living partner look ten times as bad as he already did.

   But the Dirty Dozen case covered a lot of ground. There was a train car full of lesser defendants, all surrounding the dirty dozen themselves. Much like a big professional fireworks display, individual explosions made up the whole thing. The 911 office, was one giant ball of wax all on its own. There was an absolutely huge, knock down, drag out, full on hissy fit fight over exactly who knew what and when and where they heard it from.

   The different times Merry's place of business had called the city police for help from crazy women assaulting their employee in numbers? They dragged out every single 911 caller the call would have been routed to those nights. The 911 workers that physically took those three virgin calls? Were questioned first. They did their part, they took the calls. The fight was over the log books not showing those three calls.

   A separate hearing would cover who was going to grill for altering the 911 call logs for other than legitimate purposes. Erasing multiple calls, hangups, calls deemed not an emergency in nature… was a normal activity. The defense then tried with no success to claim perhaps a call getting lost just happens.

   The prosecution said even if that were the case? Explain how all three calls, on different nights? All got erased. It showed the jury easily, right in front of their own eyes. For whatever reason, the city cops will not prosecute the several FBI wives drinking and driving, and committing multiple assaults on closed circuit camera. And when the victim finally defends herself successfully? Here come the city cops, to arrest the victim.

   The original, unedited surveillance footage of all these special moments caught on camera? Made the DC police look bad. As it turned out, several different waitresses on nights the FBI wives club was coming in and raising hell had called 911. Plus, they all testified to the treatment the cops gave when they arrived each time.

   It made the long, boring case… easy and human, if only for a moment at a time. Naturally, the big news was always from day one, going to be given to the shootout behind the bar. Several cars loaded up with off duty, out of state cops… get into beer, cocaine, and even some heroin. While taking a road trip to make a hit on the same witness.

   As far as the world and even the courtroom was concerned? Merry had killed most of the cops that night single handed, then bashed one over the head with a log and choked the other one out, and the lone straggler was picked up at his car. All the media footage of her barricaded alone in the bar for days afterwards was further evidence she acted "alone".

   The prosecution completely ignored and sidestepped Merry being a biker girl. The defense, once again having nothing else to get firm defense footing onto… repeatedly went after Merry on the stand and kept using terms like "biker babe" and "biker gang girl" and similar. The prosecution jumped on it.

   "I'm sorry. Is there an outlaw biker gang? Yes, there is. There's not one, single female in the whole gang. Girls that are on friendly terms with the gang? Get T shirts. That? Is literally the extent of her involvement, with this biker gang. When she went on the run, because someone tried to kill her in the middle of the night? They took her in, and let her tend bar under the table. Gave her a place to stay, a cement shed out back they weren't using. Why? Because she had their friends T shirt."

   The defense attorney pounced, that he was admitting she was a "biker", why couldn't he use the term. The prosecution argued back, that she wasn't a biker herself… she was just friends with one or more of them. Then, the prosecution handled the moment so artfully, it was like magic.

   The prosecution maintained, and Merry testified calmly and rationally that yes, she did get a biker boyfriend. After the several run ins with the drunken FBI wives club, and the city police and their antics? It was the only "protection" she could get from anyone, that the cops were supposed to give her and weren't.

   Which made the "outlaw biker gang" look like the good guys in this whole scenario. The cops were trying to kill witnesses, not the bikers. The positive PR for Merry's biker gang? Went through the roof.

   Pundits on the internet had their own field day. One famous viral clip was someone doing a voice-over showing Merry getting pushed and smacked around on three different clips, then the action part on the final clip where she fought back. The voice-over pointed out, that one girlfriend of a biker? Was capable of clearing out the steakhouse in the video, and they had to use several male cops to haul her off, kicking and pulling like a nut. And? That this was the same girl that was in the shootout behind the bar with all those dirty dozen cops.

   The internet remembered the last time these Merry steakhouse fight videos had gone around on the internet under a life of their own. The unknown girl in the clips? Had been nicknamed the "Steakhouse Valkyrie". Now it was linked up by the dirty dozen case, that this was also the girl that shot all the dirty cops in the biker bar massacre.

   And in the bizarre twist, the outlaw biker gang got to play good guys for once, providing protection to a girl the cops wanted to physically assault and even kill. The DC cops, and at least two FBI agents were all the bad guys this time around. The case was destined to be national news to begin with, the novelty twist simply guaranteed the full three ring circus.

   There was something for everyone to sink their teeth into. For fans of law enforcement, it was a big successful case. Police watchdog groups got to point out all the widespread corruption, dug in like ticks on a dog. Show hosts that always came down on the side of gun control? Had a big, giant mess to point to and say "look, I told you so". Guests on those shows that believed in personal protection? Got to point to the victims protecting themselves, and say "I told you so".

   Everybody had opinions on rights. Women's rights, men's rights, victim's rights, motorcyclists rights. Opponents of the Governor of Pennsylvania, criticized his initial handling of the biker bar massacre.

   An unknown source had to have come from within the Pennsylvania State Police, but an audio tape got out. It was a short, candid call the Governor had made to another State Police barracks in his quest to get the shooter "taken care of" and "out of the news" as quickly as possible. Apparently, he had called several barracks trying to arrange what he wanted. So in the end? It wasn't able to be determined exactly which barracks and trooper had blown his call in and sent it out public. The contents of the call being "damning" were a classic understatement. When up for re election, its not wise to let your opponents get hold of an audio tape like that.

   The haughty quote to "shoot that bitch before she completely ruins my gun control program" in the course of the little phone conversation got played to death by the governor's successful opponent. Uncle Mike made appearances and local TV and newspaper spots shaking hands with two different judges.

   One was the local "hanging judge" who had Merry's two murderous witch's attempted murder trial on his docket for a good while as various appeals and hearings came and went. The other was the local "liberal judge" who ended up being surprisingly tough on crime just before elections came around when the case finally landed on her docket. Having already won a long appeal to get into another judge's courtroom, there was now no chance when the "soft on crime" judge threw the book at the girls and defense scrambled to get a separate sentencing judge. 10 to 15 now looked more and more like 15, than out in 7 on good behavior.

   Then the last of the storm died down and simply blew back out to sea. Other crimes and scandals and peccadilloes came to light and scrutiny, and the eye of the fickle public finally passed on. They were sitting there eating lunch, enjoying the boredom.

   "So. Should we have our… shareholder meeting now."

   Merry snickered.

   "Call it what you want."

   "So…"

   "The meeting was your idea. What."

   "We have to decide eventually. On…"

   "I know. Which one first."

   "Lab?"

   "All right."

   "All right lab, we do it? Or… all right, we talk about it finally."

   "Talk about it."

   "I found a used gas chromatography online. Its got 8 years left on certification."

   "I'm afraid to ask how much…"

   "Under 100 grand. Turns out, you can't move these things like furniture. You hire a special crew to dismantle it, move it, and reassemble it."

   "Over 100 with that?"

   "No, but there's less left over for things like insurance, lease, and early payroll. Looking like 150, somewhere in there."

   "Are you asking my permission to do it?"

   "I guess I am."

   "Why do you think you need my permission to do it, anyways."

   He paused.

   "I have my egg. You, have your egg. We also, together… have what we have. I don't remember having to make these kinds of decisions before I met you, so… yeah. I check with my partner."

   "We have enough, right?"

   "We do, one way or the other. Look, I feel… guilty? That I parked a bunch of the money into the gun shop and the building. Its not a big money maker, either."

   "I thought the purpose wasn't to make money, the purpose was to have a hobby retirement job."

   "Glad you were taking notes. This, is the opposite. Its pretty much designed to make money. I feel guilty hogging all the resources."

   "Well… I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to own an FBI lab. Hello, its me. You have to own it."

   "I never thought of that as a rule."

   "What were you thinking…"

   "Honestly? I got the bank building and the gun shop. I make some extra here and there. I thought you might like owning an asset."

   Merry grinned.

   "Not real important to me. What happens in 8 years though."

   "It goes out of certification lifespan."

   "Scrap metal?"

   "Not that bad, but… you can't make life or death measurements with anything out of certification. There would be no more billing the FBI for lab services. That? Is the guaranteed cash cow."

   "When you explain it like that? It makes more sense why you're antsy to get going. Seven years of milk money, isn't as good as eight years of milk money."

   "Is this strictly to make money? Or, is this a way to reward the tech."

   "Both."

   "Isn't the tech going to get screwed 8 years down the road again?"

   "Not if I don't screw him, he doesn't. That's my motto."

   Merry curled the edge of one side of her lips a bit.

   "Pretty sure I've heard your jingles on the radio before, honey. Come work for The Panic Group… we don't screw our employees."

   The joke itself was moderately funny all on its own, but Merry tried to sing it like a made up on the spot radio jingle. Which made it sillier and funnier.

   Merry studied him.

   "You said there were different ways to go about this. How would the average… shyster go about it."

   Panic shrugged.

   "It costs this much to get a gas rig running. You can bill it out the ass, for the next eight years. Right there? I think that's about the end of the big thinking anyone else would do."

   "And you…"

   "Yeah. Then, there's me. I think, anyone else would blow smoke up my lab rat's ass. Hey. Come run your own lab. Here's a raise. They take all the profits for eight years."

   "He'd be screwed that way. And you and Sun Tzu say… about anyone else would screw him, too."

   Panic nodded.

   "I explained the 8 year clause in the equipment I could afford."

   "What did he say to an 8 year life span."

   "We kept emailing."

   "Did you two decide anything?"

   "Did we decide? No. But, we came up with a couple ways to go about it."

   "Which are…"

   "Normal way. In and out, make money for 8 years and have plans for it to end."

   "But…"

   "Or? Run those 8 years, specifically to see if we could save up enough to get a brand new gas rig, that comes with a 20 year certification program built in. You pay extra? They… install it, and set it up. And? Keep it calibrated."

   "You want to run a lab for another 20 years, after 8 years of seeing how it goes."

   "No. It would make the whole thing permanent. Or, it could be sold at the beginning of its 20 year lifespan. For top dollar, I might add. Any investment group should jump at the chance. That would take care of the both of us, as well as the tech and his family."

   "So… what are you asking me?"

   "Advice. Leech it for 8 years, or… see how close to a new one we can get."

   "How does it look?"

   "Somewhere between a year or two in? It should have paid for every penny of starting it up, easily. Which would leave 6 to 7 years. Milk it, or… try to see how close to outright buying the new gas rig, you can get to."

   Merry giggled quietly.

   "What, dear."

   "Just thinking. I was afraid to ask how much a new one is."

   "Oh. Well… if it billed FBI lab money like it was supposed to for 8 years… me and the tech looked around. Under a million, to get the thing. Just over a million… to get the free calibrations over the lifetime."

   "Can it make that, in time?"

   Panic shrugged.

   "Won't lie. Probably not. But? It should get close enough to make it… interesting. The tech? Asked if his raise could be left at his present pay, and thrown in. If it would help."

   "Does it?"

   "Twenty grand a year, over 8 years? 160 thousand."

   "That's not a million."

   Panic wagged his head.

   "No, its not. But? Its a nice chunk of it. Now, I can add that on top of whatever profits can be wrangled out during milk years. Also, there's the matter of the tech moving to what they call 'The Triangle'. He gets to make city money, working and living in the country. He asked me. Why couldn't he buy a white trash special, a beat up mobile home somewhere in the surrounding countryside. Because his city paycheck goes farther in the country? He wanted to try to make another contribution, out of his remaining pay."

   "How much more?"

   "Another twenty grand."

   "He's willing to give up his big raise to run a lab, and wants to give up that much again, in a voluntary pay cut. Just to get in on the ground floor."

   Panic nodded.

   "If he doubled his contribution like that? That's another 160 grand over eight years. That's now 320 thousand, coming off of the million dollar gas rig. Also? The tech found a grant program. The government needs more 'independent' labs than it has."

   "That's him. Are you sure his wife and kids think moving into the country and living like rednecks is worth it?"

   "He said him and the wife talked about it. Kid's young enough they make decisions for her. In the end? He outlined what he has now."

   Merry wagged her head.

   "Which is?"

   "He makes sixty something a year. If he spends the next ten years there? Yeah, he might get grade 4 status and pay. This way? He owns a big percentage of the business at the end of the 8 years. That's way better pay for the next 20 years, for him and his family. All that money made living in the country instead of the city. They could buy enough property to… own their own zip code."

   "How's he live now?"

   "Suburbs. To make that city pay, you get a long commute from the suburbs. He owns a chunk of the house he makes payments on by now. Remember. City suburb math. Its over half a million, for a tiny house with asshole to elbow neighbors and more crime than a small town should have."

   "He's looking at the beat up white trash special house trailer as a step up?"

   "He'd own it outright. No house payments. He makes nothing but tax payments for eight years? Housing all taken care of. Wife and kids think living in the country will be less hectic than living near the city. Now. Take his house payment he loses into consideration? His pay cut, gets dangerously close to a raise."

   "His wife understands what he's doing?"

   Panic laughed.

   "He says yes, they talked about it. Her decision? She can do what they're doing right now, for the next ten years. Which doesn't get them that much farther ahead in life. Not really. Or? They live in a beat up mobile home, in the country. By the time you account for the house payment gone, the finances work easy. She understands that if she agrees to live in a beat up mobile home for 8 years, she then gets to buy a giant piece of country property, and build a house and anything else she wants. Because her husband? Will own probably 25 percent of a 20 year multi million dollar gig. She'll be set, and so will that kid."

   "That makes your tech happy?"

   "No. That makes my tech rays of sunshine beaming out of his asshole happy."

   "He's that happy?"

   "Well. He was happy enough to suggest the idea? See, at first. He can run the gas chromatography quick and easy. By himself. He suggested, once the thing paid for itself… why not try to get another used gas rig going. Same location. He'll have his guy trained to run his next door, while he runs the other one."

   "He wants to own more."

   "Good. The more he contributes? The less I have to. He runs the thing, I don't have to set foot in it. Its fair. If he could get a second used gas rig running early enough it produced alongside the first one? Yeah… the thing might cover its own new gas rig, before the end of the eight years."

   "So do it."

   "That's what I figured. I run this all by you. Oh…"

   "Yeah?"

   "If I do this. I was thinking. What about… I'm going to maximize the yearly run."

   "Why. Just curious."

   "Well. Replace losses. I wanna be in a position to purchase the new gas chromatography at the end of the 8 year life span outright, without the tech partner knowing it."

   Merry nodded.

   "I was just joking, but… its more of a shareholder's meeting than I realized."

   Panic chuckled.

   "Moving right along to the the next big matter before the board."

   Merry smiled.

   "Which is?"

   "Your little friend."

   "My friend?"

   "Sorry. Our friend."

   Merry beamed.

   "There. That's better. What about her."

   "The board recognizes the motion, that if the tech gets a laboratory? Our little friend, gets her editing house."

   "Wow. I hadn't really thought about that one. I thought it was later on down the road."

   "When you compare the two projects, Merry? Her editing house is way cheaper and looks like it might make steady money. We literally need… any building, and a computer system. Which? Is Junior's stock and trade. Everybody has some kind of side job, right? Junior's, is computer work."

   "You already talked to Junior about this…"

   "We emailed. Junior, even had a great idea. For the building, wherever it ends up."

   "Design tips? I'm afraid to ask…"

   Panic shrugged.

   "Just cheap carpeting, do the entire place. Walls carpeted, too."

   Merry blinked at him.

   "My reaction, but… editing video and sound files. Soundproofing. Privacy. Upscale look and feel. Also? Junior had another brainstorm."

   "What…"

   "Little recording booth. For audio. For making little training videos. Commercials, what not. Voices for commercials and voice over. She says, editing documentaries is the high end, of this lower end market. Junior said audio booth, for your voice person to talk through the documentary. It just made sense."

   Merry made a face.

   "A recording studio… is a cheap thing to play with?"

   "A running, high end audio place? No. A small, dedicated lower end set up, do it yourself? Yes. We're not recording musicians, its just people talking. A microphone, a room with carpeted walls? Good enough."

   "You're asking me if this is a go or not?"

   "Basically. Before you ask? Its cheaper, way cheaper… than the gas rig gig I'm lining up."

   "How cheap."

   "No telling. You get the right shitty building, out in the middle of nowhere, whatever plant it worked for how long closed down… you'd be surprised what you can find."

   Merry looked around her at the surrounding bank building they were eating lunch in.

   "You and your… renegade architecture program, right?"

   "Basically. Junior, once again? Came up with a floor plan idea. Basically, a long hallway. Rows of doors. Each door? Little broom closet office of an editor."

   Merry wrinkled her brow.

   "Where do the computers go, or…"

   "Computers. Add a room at one end, add another room at the other end, for whatever else. You need bathrooms somewhere. A break room for everyone to relax and eat and drink in. Junior said build little four room cubes at either end of the hallway to the cells they work in. One? Kitchenette. One, bathroom. One, computer room."

   "Sounds like Junior is doing more design work than you are."

   "Ha ha. My idea? Was to line up 40 foot office trailers. They all come with two offices and a bathroom, plus whatever else may or may not be there. My other idea? Every editor gets their own shed."

   Merry smiled.

   "This is all subject to change…"

   He chuckled.

   "All depends on what cheap piece of property I find, and where it is. Do you think our little friend will be… happy, if we do it?"

   "Oh yeah. We authorize this too, right?"

   He nodded.

   Merry smiled.

   "So. The boring part of the stockholders meeting is done, am I right?"

   He cocked his head.

   "Which part is all exciting…"

   "Hmm. You keep calling her, our little friend? She's 5'11". I was just curious… did you have any fantasy ideas for… celebrating closing the deal, or anything?"

   He smiled.

   "Oh. I get to be the lucky sound guy, letting the naughty girls in on the weekend. Gotcha."

   Merry rolled her eyes.

   "Pretty laid back sexual fantasy, ain't it? Oh, I let some chicks in at work. Wow."

   "Well… if you're making fun of my first try at a sexual fantasy? I suppose you can do better for me. Go on. Impress me."

   "Well. Recording booth? You don't want to be the musician with two groupies? Or… the naughty agent who's trying out two new floozies…"

   He chuckled.

   "That settles that, then. From now on? You, are in charge of my fantasies. They're objectively better than my own. Congratulations, you got the job. Just tell me what to do, when I get there."

   Merry winked at him.

   "Panic? I honestly know about jack shit, to hiding our dirty money."

   He gave her a weak smile.

   "You… act like I'm an expert."

   "Do you have a strategy you use…?"

   "Yes. The more legitimate money we could have made and saved? The more dirty green we can have. The same rule applies both ways, though. Remember… the less we make legitimate, the less we're allowed to have on us. The more we have to hide it. That? Has been my overall strategy. Plus, nobody really looks into where seed money from small businesses comes from, anyways. Essentially any running business you can manage? Becomes its own front to the whole thing. That's the best I came up with on my own. Got anything to add?"

   Merry shook her head no.

   "I've basically been risking my own money, then replacing it. Leaving me with a residue of dirty money behind. None of it? Can go into the bank vault. That's where the gun police have access, because its for storing guns. It has to go, into location B."

   "Hmm. I always thought you had a more… advanced strategy about it by this time."

   Panic shrugged.

   "Money? Is a pain in the ass. I was a delivery driver. I'm worried abut two cash registers. They're supposed to be to the penny a certain amount on the register tape… usually aren't. I had to get good at figuring it out. Always under, almost never over. You get sick of counting it again and again. Also? Everyone and their uncle is trying to get the better of me making change on deliveries. I gotta be on guard for quick change artists."

   "It happens a lot?"

   Panic chuckled.

   "Wanna play a game?"

   Merry grinned.

   "Sure. What kind of game."

   "Delivery girl and con man customer."

   "Hmm. Sounds like it could get fun."

   "Not that kinda game…"

   He outlined the premise. She was delivering 12 dollars worth of food for lunch somewhere. He had her walk up to him sitting at his end of the table as if holding something out in her palm. He asked her how much, she said twelve bucks. He showed her a five, and started adding ones to it as he counted out. Five? Six seven eight… he paused at the magic number 12, the amount he owed. He smiled, and counted out three more. Handed it to her folded over.

   He had his little smile going though. She knew something was up. But, she had watched it counted out, right in front of her very eyes. She looked at him, she looked down at her hand. Back up to him. He shrugged and told her to count it.

   She watched him start with five, and add ones until it got to 12, then to 15. She had 10 bucks, and no five. He held his hand up. The folded over five dollar bill? Stayed in his hand.

   "Same trick? You can palm 20 out of a bigger purchase…"

   He showed her in slow motion the basic trick. How you learned to slide your finger in just right on that first bill. When you dramatically count and fold and hand over the money you counted off right in their face? It stayed. He then made "change for ten" with ten ones several times. Merry was watching her ten ones? Like a countdown to an astronaut's spaceflight… ten nine eight…

   Then he had her stand behind him. He did one slow. When he counted out all the ones, and smoothly "stacked" it tapping it on the table and handing it over? A dollar bill fluttered to the floor on his side of the table, every time he counted change and handed it over. A dollar tip off every customer.

   Merry gazed around at all the tricks he had obviously learned about carrying money for work. He had been hit by any of these and more, of course. That was how he had learned these things.

   "Now. You want one rule, to counteract all of these shenanigans I'm pulling?"

   "Sure."

   "Problem is. You? Are letting me do your counting for you. Even if I count it right in front of you? Uh uh. You… count it again, when you get your hands on it. You verify it. If you don't? Well… watch. Here's nine ones instead of ten. You count it and stop me. Hey. This is nine, where's my ten."

   "That's it?"

   "That's the holy rule. I count it, before I end the transaction. And yeah. Every once in a while? I caught someone that way. So. What have we established here? That money, and counting it and worrying about it… is a pain in the ass. That's just how I look at dealing with money."

   "So. How long do we wait before we tell her we wanna give her a cutting house of her own."

   Panic wagged his head.

   "We both told her, to be on the lookout for any business offered to her on the side she normally has to turn down. I'd already be looking for building ideas, but I don't know where I'm looking for. DC, another city, anywhere else private, or… nearby here."

   Merry shrugged.

   "We'll have to ask her. You said this is affordable… Junior says its affordable, too."

   "Eh. Couple thousand in main computer room infrastructure. Its basically just a big bank of addressable hard drives. Because me and Junior both speak Martian? We can add hard drives as we go along, they're cheap one at a time and even cheaper in bulk. We run our own bulk cables, put our own connectors on the bulk cable we cut and run. At the moment? The go to used workstation with Junior and Panic specs out the yin yang… is under a thousand each."

   Merry rolled her eyes.

   "I vaguely understand there is a thing called a hard drive, and it stores everything on my desktop or my laptop."

   Panic nodded.

   "And… you've seen me and my portable hard drives."

   "Those… wallets you plug into laptops, tablets, phones…"

   "Yeah. Just portable hard drives. Now. If you need the storage space to work on something big, say… a lot of video and audio files. You have to save a copy of everything you use to get there, too. Documented, for fall back points everywhere. Now, I'm not a big video editor, but… I've edited audio files before, worked with them. Wanna know my experience with it."

   Merry smiled.

   "Sure."

   "Take one song. A couple minutes. When I'm done making the music, I start mixing. Everything I do to that song? Add reverb, boost the low end, whatever. Every step of the way? I have to save a copy of the song. With numbers in the names, so I can keep track and see the order. I have little shorthand letter abbreviations I add onto the names of the files, too. Shows what was done to the one audio track. Point being? I can easily tie up… I don't even know… a hundred times the storage space of the final song? To have all those versions and history and ability to start again at any point, and veer off doing something."

   Merry cocked her head.

   "Okay."

   "Audio files, at the song length? Would be measured in megabytes, MBs per song. Roughly 1,000 MBs, makes one gigabyte. A gig."

   "I call it a G…"

   "Yeah. A regular DVD? Usually 4.3 Gigs… if it's double sided? That's twice as many, 8.6 Gigs."

   "How many fit on a hard drive?"

   "Hmm. 1,000 gigs? Is a Terabyte. Two terabyte drives are common enough now. That's 2,000 gigs. In the end, she needs a shelf full of hard drives. But, me and Junior can add them as we go. The other hardware around that room of hard drives you can access? A workstation computer in every closet, and high speed cabling to make basically an office wide lightning fast internet. I say basically? Because none of these workstations will ever be on the internet, not ever once."

   Merry made a tumbling motion with her hand.

   "So… how much?"

   "That's what I'm getting at. Its… modular. Look. The day she starts on her own? She needs… the computer room working, with a couple blank drives ready to go. And at least one workstation. We could stick her in a tiny one room office somewhere, temporarily. I figure right off the bat, she needs a second workstation and carpeted closet ready to go, so she can train and get someone going. Every employee she gets editing? Is another workstation, another closet carpeted. More hard drives."

   "Oh. You can pay as you go that way. I see what you mean."

   "Now you're on my page. The building? Costs what it costs. Figure five grand to get the main computer room in and wired up, with two workstations. Add whatever it costs to get those first two editing booths running. Its basically 5 grand over whatever you spend on the building."

   Merry sat and furrowed her brow.

   "She said she makes more work, being in the city. DC in particular, with all the government training film work around town. What if her first editing house? Was a shoe-box somewhere cheap in or around the outskirts of DC."

   Panic calculated off of her idea.

   "Cheaper initial startup. Limited growth. You could do one, maybe two employees there, but…"

   Merry grinned.

   "Gets her started. Its where the work is. She's right there close to Junior… who can tweak her hard drive or whatever if she has a problem."

   "Makes sense. But, you said started."

   Merry smiled more.

   "Later on, you figure out where to plop the bigger editing house. You keep the tiny edge of DC starter office, for the training film work. She can train her employees there, then move the better ones to the big cutting house, to work on the bigger stuff. She'll have figured out by then, which employee to leave in charge when she's not there, and she can work at either location."

   Panic smiled now.

   "At some point, she'll be able to make her own schedule. This also buys us time to figure out where to put the bigger editing house and find a cheap building in just the right cheap location."

   "Got any ideas?"

   "As much as I'd love to have her here with us? I want her kept away from… your work, tending bar, everything like that. Make sense?"

   Merry sighed.

   "Yeah… I see the logic."

   "Plus… right in and around DC? Is better for getting Junior to make house calls on her computer. Right here? Too far if Junior has to make too many runs per month. What about… splitting the difference. Halfway point on the trip, between here and DC. Be on the Virginia side of the Pennsylvania Virginia border area. Country in the general area. Maybe get a farmhouse and a barn cheap, for the cost of the dirt. Also? Anything agricultural is also commercial."

   Merry drew in the air with her finger, supposing.

   "You go to the office, in the city, to book editing services. The work gets done out there in the country, though. She could… hire a salesman, to book editing time for her, that works out of the DC shoe-box."

   "She could be a lot closer to us here, if she wanted to be? After I've had experience with her computer setup. Once I'm okay with tinkering on it, she could be close to here, if we didn't need Junior."

   Merry came back.

   "Or… Junior might like the idea of a side job. Can I ask a stupid question now?"

   "Shoot."

   "The entire talk, is about whether to do it or not. How and where to do it. How much it takes to do it. I haven't heard a single word about… financing."

   Panic looked like he was counting things off in his head, but in the air with his finger as a visual aid.

   "What did I forget the cost of?"

   Merry smiled.

   "I meant… financing. Paying it back. Who owns it. Who pays who. I haven't heard anything like that."

   "Oh. Really didn't cross my mind, to tell you the truth. Does she own it, do we own it and pay her more than she would get paid at work, or what do we do that way. Now that you mention it and all."

   Merry smiled and gave him her happiest eyes.

   "You really were going through all this, not even thinking about who owns it, who pays who back, nothing. You were just going to… hand it to her?"

   "Uh… basically. My mind doesn't work like that naturally. I thought we were just… helping our friend out."

   "She's never owned anything like that before. Honestly, how much do you think she'll end up making. If all she does, is what she does for her work, just for herself."

   "Well. You're asking me to guess. Here's what I know though. I used to deliver food. The owner didn't brag, but… I know he made way more than I did. In fact, I bet he made… five times as much per year. Maybe ten times as much, in a good year here and there. I'm counting on it being like that. For her."

   "Wow. You think she'll end up making ten times what she makes now, just by doing the same thing for herself?"

   "Be logical. The owner of the pizza shop, makes 150 grand a year. The delivery driver? Makes 30. I'm betting this is no different. As a delivery driver, I might deliver 500 dollars worth of food, on a busy night. My owner? Makes way more off of that than I do. I'm really just getting tips thrown at me all at once, is all that's going on. No… I bet you anything, that the owner where she is right now? Makes 5 or 10 times what she makes, off of her work."

   "I guess its that much, maybe even more."

   "But… I bet we can safely double her salary, for the work she does now. Once she starts doing it for herself. I guess? Pay her what she makes now, to start out. Living where she lives. Comfortable change for her. The money paid for the first big editing job? Goes in the bank. We'll quickly see, what we can do. We'll move it up from there."

   Merry giggled.

   "I'm trying to imagine her face, when we tell her that her pay just doubled."

   "It should pay for itself from that point on. I mean, she works in an editing house at work. There's other places around, that do the same thing. What's one more."

   Merry laughed.

   "Any chance for the first couple, several years… you could double or triple her salary, but… use some of the extra to help fund the gas rig lab project?"

   "I never thought about it like that. Its an 8 year plan. If her place was up and running within a couple years… it could work out good."

   "Its just a little drain getting it up and running."

   "Until it starts producing? I can just chip a few cars, and use that cash to pay the bills for another couple months. So. We tell her?"

   Merry upended her palms.

   "We have to."

   Panic shrugged.

   "She'll be here, in a couple days."

   Merry chuckled.

   "Hmm."

   He looked up.

   "What…"

   "When are you going to go and stay with her. She keeps asking you."

   "Its 20 days. That's, like three weeks."

   "So?"

   "You should come with us, then."

   Merry smiled.

   "No. She wants to spend some time with just you. She talked about it with me, and it was as much my idea, as it was hers. A couple weeks of vacation, staying with her? Should be fun for both of you, and as a bonus… me and her both thought it would go a long way towards you being a lot more… comfortable when she's around."

   "I guess I could take a couple weeks off at the gun shop. Not like its the big money maker anyways. More like my hobby."

   "There you go. You can run around with her for a couple weeks, looking for shoe-box office ideas. Should be fun. She's been talking to me, about trying to… Giselle you."

   "What's that?"

   "You'll see. I don't wanna ruin the surprise."