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    Don't Go Home for the Holidays: A Tale of Spies, Aliens and Very Bad Timing
    Don't Go Home for the Holidays: A Tale of Spies, Aliens and Very Bad Timing
    Don't Go Home for the Holidays: A Tale of Spies, Aliens and Very Bad Timing
    Ebook573 pages8 hours

    Don't Go Home for the Holidays: A Tale of Spies, Aliens and Very Bad Timing

    By Lazette Gifford

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    About this ebook

    The year is 1996 and Christmas is only a few days away. The Sangre sisters are on an odd assignment and things get out of hand when they learn they're in the employ of aliens. Soon their lives become extremely complicated with mutants, time travel and psychic crossword puzzle books. This is a silly set of adventures, so abandon logic and have fun.

    Each section of the book takes place during a different holiday throughout the year.

    This book is for the other LMW. You know who you are.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA Conspiracy of Authors
    Release dateNov 17, 2013
    ISBN9781936507405
    Don't Go Home for the Holidays: A Tale of Spies, Aliens and Very Bad Timing
    Author

    Lazette Gifford

    Lazette is an avid writer as well as the owner of Forward Motion for Writers and the owner/editor of Vision: A Resource for Writers.It's possible she spends too much time with writers.And cats.

    Read more from Lazette Gifford

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      Book preview

      Don't Go Home for the Holidays - Lazette Gifford

      INTRODUCTION

      From: Alan Orion, Head of FUTURE

      December 22, 1995

      Report # 54678

      Message Begins:

      I have had another official request to explain how things have gotten so out of hand on earth. I have twice written my official report and beamed them in, complete with graphs and diagrams.

      This, apparently, is not enough.

      Do you really want to know what happened? What went wrong?

      We came to earth.

      I didn't know much about this world -- none of us did -- when I first arrived. One week I was heading the ciphering division at the main HQ out in the Veldic Sector, and the next thing I know my bosses packed me off to some newly found backwater world out on the edge of the galaxy -- a world no one would have even noticed if the natives hadn't been so damn noisy.

      So there I was on Earth.

      The sentient population looked humanoid, at least, though with no written or oral recollections of being a colony. Nevertheless, HQ wanted me to use locals to create an intelligence system so we could learn everything possible about the Terrans.

      I should have shot myself. Or become a Mingold cleric and lived the rest of my life on a rock in the acid sea. Either would have been far less traumatic.

      The Vananadanians quickly decided they didn't want the Terrans let out in the stars, apparently fearing they might be even better warriors, and bit more vicious, than the Van themselves.

      And that idea worries everyone else.

      So, I went to work with the Terrans, wondering how I could create any sort of viable network to collect information about this odd world. This proved to be less of a problem than I expected. I quickly learned an important truth about this world: Earth politics are so convoluted that no one questioned when I sat up an organization of my own. They believed I was the head of yet another damn Terran intelligence agency. FUTURE became legitimate simply by surviving.

      Ten years I've been on this backwater world, collecting more and more information about the natives who have so many different cultures they can't keep them straight. I've fought off three Van preemptive attacks, kept my background a secret, and nightly hope someone higher in the organization takes pity on me and gets me out before I either go native or join the Van myself.

      And in all those years, I've only made two really bad mistakes.

      Unfortunately, now they're my top two agents. . . .

      Chapter One: AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE

      December 22, 1995

      One

      Don't bother me again. Morning Glory Sangre stared down the nine-year-old demon child from hell who had been running rampant around the seats in the airport lobby. No nine-year-old should have so much energy at midnight. And the parents, oblivious to the havoc and annoyance their darling created, which left Morning Glory to deal with the problem.

      The child started to say something.

      I don't want to hear you say anything. I don't want to see you racing past me. Go and sit with your parents or I'll make so much trouble for you you'll be grounded until you're old enough to get your own pilot's license.

      He glared, red spots appearing on his chubby little cheeks. What do you think you can do about it, huh?

      Oh, you really don't want to know.

      He grinned -- and ran -- far faster than he should have, really.

      Morning Glory let the clear, strong string spool out from her hand and waited for the right moment. As the demon child came even with the rather rude businessman who had annoyed her earlier, Morning Glory gave a little jerk of her hand.

      The boy lost his footing, poor child, and landed in the lap of the businessman. Tepid coffee splattered out of his cup and spilled everywhere.

      A snap of her fingers released the string's hook, and she pulled the string back, wrapping the thread around the handle and slipping the device into her pocket.

      The demon child's parents took him in hand, and sat him down with a very stern lecture on behavior. The father spoke with the businessman: Money exchanged hands for cleaning bills.

      The child looked at Morning Glory with wild, wide eyes. He sat very still.

      Sometimes the little perks in her job made her day. Good road test of the new string device FUTURE had given her, too.

      Nonetheless, she wanted this damned assignment over so she could go home and sleep. The chairs were hard, the night late and the lobby drafty. She hated waiting in L.A. International Airport, watching as the crowds fled to and from gates in a frantic haste to always be somewhere else. Now, midway through the night on December 22, the flow had ebbed as much as was likely to before Christmas. People gathered in laughing crowds when planes disembarked and they found their friends and family waiting.

      Going home for the holidays.

      Morning Glory Sangre glanced at her watch and ran through a half dozen good curses in as many languages. None of them seemed malevolent enough for the people in the office who sent her out here tonight. They had no right to call her for some run of the mill bodyguard assignment, telling her to watch over a courier between flights. The office paid menials to do this kind of work. Morning Glory Sangre was, after all, a Field Agent. She had worked her way up. Let the newcomers take the routine jobs.

      Which, of course, they generally did, which meant this was not going to be routine. She scanned the faces of the crowd once more, but still could find neither friend nor foe.

      She played with a braid of her hair, watching a group from Japan move through the lobby and head out. Exotic looking people. She, on the other hand, looked scruffy enough to draw the attention of the night guard, who might think she was someone homeless looking for a place to sit for a while. Morning Glory hadn't thought to dress better for a job like this. She wore blue jeans -- loose enough to make the brace on her right leg go unnoticed -- a faded tee-shirt with a picture of Bruce Lee on the front, and a warm old knitted poncho.

      Had she acquired any of the physical characteristics of the rest of her family, she would have looked at least half Native American. Instead, with her white skin and brown-tending-towards-red hair, she looked as though she'd lost her way from the mid-sixties; a hippie with the secret of time travel.

      1:37AM.

      She finally saw the glitter of a plane moving out in the darkness, and stood, limping slightly as she crossed to the window. A small commuter jet taxied in from San Francisco. About time.

      The plane began disembarking a couple minutes later. Morning Glory walked closer to where the first people exited, pretending to be a sister or a friend or a wife, which would entirely depend on who came through the gate, and she'd only know when she saw the person.

      The person who stepped into the lobby turned out to be Mickey Peterson.

      Morning Glory felt a moment of shocked surprise. She had expected to recognize the courier since all FUTURE agents could recognize anyone else in the organization, saving any embarrassing and potentially dangerous confrontations. She had not, however, expected to actually know the agent.

      Besides, Mickey was not a courier. He was a Field Agent with three years more experience than she had. Nevertheless, he came off the plane carrying a dark brown briefcase with an inlaid gold star stamped on the side; standard gear for FUTURE couriers. She thought he looked worn and worried, too.

      Despite her shock, Morning Glory had not slowed as she approached him. She had seen a flicker of movement in his eyes and knew Mickey hadn't expected her either. What the hell game was FUTURE playing?

      Baby, I'm glad to see you, he said, his voice holding true sincerity.

      Morning Glory smiled. She didn't mind being called Baby since this was a name she had answered to for well over half her life. She'd been unnamed at her parents' deaths, and became the youngest, and least wanted, of a large family. She'd been Baby Sangre on her birth certificate and recently decided on a formal name change. Most of the people at FUTURE called her Baby, in fact.

      She endured Mickey's embrace noting how his heart pounded very fast. There was something odd going on here --

      As he stepped back, Mickey's hand caught her right arm with an unexpected fierceness. He sidestepped her automatic kick as he brought the briefcase upward. Something snapped around her wrist and she looked down at the cold band of a metal handcuff, leading to a chain, leading to the damned briefcase.

      She grabbed Mickey by the shirt as he desperately leapt backwards. He was an experienced agent who knew, too well, what danger he faced. She moved faster than he could, and she didn't let go.

      My orders, Morning Glory. He tried a feeble grin as she dragged him closer.

      I am not a courier any longer.

      People stared, which couldn't be helped. Such an open display as slapping a handcuff on someone's wrist had drawn attention, and Baby didn't much care how much more they saw.

      Baby -- Morning Glory -- I only did what they told me to do. I didn't know I was meeting you, but I didn't have a choice. He carefully tried to peel her fingers from his shirt.

      She looked down at the briefcase and realized she was pretty much stuck now. She let go of his shirt and, brave man, he didn't back away more than a single step. A glance around the lobby showed the demon child and his parents quickly retreating from the area. Well, if she'd known this was all it was going to take. . . .

      She turned to her fellow FUTURE agent. What is going on, Mickey?

      I don't know much about this one, he confessed as his voice dropped to a near whisper. No one had come any closer, though Morning Glory imagined the already suspicious night guard would be joining them soon. Whatever is in the case came out of the hinterlands in either China or Russia, and three agents have already died between here and there --

      I like this less every minute.

      You know they chose you because you're the best, Morning Glory, Mickey offered, still braving her snort of contempt. In the three years you were a courier, you handled over a hundred assignments without a single loss. I suspect FUTURE needs your ability now.

      They should have mailed this thing.

      This is serious!

      I hadn't noticed, she said, lifting the briefcase. Where do I take it?

      The New York office and maybe even beyond there. No one knows for sure.

      Who has the key to take this off me?

      It's going separately.

      Meaning no one trusts me enough to tell me who has the key because this is so damned important the information might even tempt me. Right. And the case is trapped, of course?

      Not in a way many people would notice, he said softly. If anyone tries to take the case off of you without the key, it'll take a twenty-by-twenty room with it. And you and whomever else is in the area.

      Great. Thanks. Any idea what I should watch out for?

      No idea at all.

      All right, now for the loaded question: Why wasn't I warned about this assignment when they sent me here? I've never turned down a job, and if the office said this was important, I'd do the work.

      I know. He stopped and glanced down at his feet, long brown hair falling over his forehead. He swept the strand aside as he looked up, his hazel eyes narrowed with worry. I don't know the whole story, but I've heard rumors someone in FUTURE could be involved in the loss of the other three couriers. We don't lose three agents on any job, Baby.

      Ha! And I'm above suspicion? This is going to ruin my reputation. Do I report in?

      We would like to know if you are still alive.

      Don't flatter me. All you want to know is if I still have the briefcase. I bet you can't even tell me the names of the other three dead agents.

      He looked down. She almost felt a whisper of remorse for trying to make him responsible for FUTURE's inclination to secrecy. She'd met Mickey a time or two in the past. He wasn't a bad agent.

      What would happen if I wrapped this chain around your neck and made the count four instead of three? Baby asked.

      He looked at her and grinned. Here? In public? I had heard you were far more subtle in your work, Baby.

      True. Perhaps you should beware of dark corners for a while. But then that's second nature for spies, isn't it?

      He smiled, though she was rewarded with a slight twitch in his right eye. Good. Maybe her reputation as a maverick would survive.

      You know, I'm sorry about this, Baby -- but better you than me. I haven't done courier work in ten years, but they told me if my contact didn't show, I had to latch the case on my wrist and go with it. I think you have a much better chance of surviving. You going to get your sister in on this one?

      If she's interested.

      Mickey nodded. Here's your ticket. Good luck.

      He handed her some paperwork and darted away. She made a futile attempt to stop him, barely touching his arm. She watched him go, all the while feeling more and more conspicuous; a hippie with a briefcase chained to her wrist. This was just going so well already.

      So she yanked on the string she'd attached to his sleeve. He did a wonderful leap and landed on his ass. She had already pulled the string in. He looked at her and shook his head. Then he stood and limped away.

      The ticket showed she had a flight from LAX to Chicago, an hour layover, and then straight on to New York. Not bad. Or maybe too damn obvious. Agents had already died, and the people at the office thought they'd toss her on the most obvious flight, without even a question of rerouting?

      Insanity.

      She had an hour until the flight. Baby went to the nearest phone and dialed. The case felt heavy in her hands.

      FUTURE. How may I help you?

      Special Operator 31, please.

      She listened through a series of clicks as the call followed relays across the nation. She stared at the case until a mechanical voice asked, Code number please.

      86-388873.

      Please hold.

      She listened to a buzz before another voice answered. This one sounded almost as mechanical.

      FUTURE assignments offices. Please give your name and designation.

      "Morning Glory Baby Sangre and I'm not a damn courier!"

      She hung up. Sometimes a person had to lodge a protest.

      Having done so, she now dialed a local number and waited through fifteen rings before she finally believed no one would answer. Where the hell could Apache be at this time of the night? She wasn't out on an assignment. They had been to a movie no more than four hours ago.

      Morning Glory had almost started dialing the main office again when she saw the familiar figure of another sixties refugee making her way into the lobby. She felt her first wave of relief watching Morning Star Apache Sangre. Her sister wasn't any better dressed, wearing an army jacket, blue jeans, T-shirt and a bit more flash in gold and turquoise. Darker haired, darker skinned; they didn't look much like sisters. Apache looked exotic while Baby looked out of place.

      Morning Glory stepped away from the phone and gave a quick whistle. Half the people looked and Apache came towards her, shaking her head with mock disapproval.

      Some secret agent.

      Mickey Peterson blew that one already, thank you.

      What's going on? I got a call from Alan Orion himself about forty-five minutes ago. He told me to get out here and stick with you. I know it's an honor and all to get assignments straight from the head of FUTURE, but why can't we have a week's notice like everyone else?

      I don't know. But I'm not happy about it, Baby said, and finally lifted the briefcase for her sister to see.

      What's going on? I'm not a bodyguard anymore!

      Hey, that's all right. I'm not a courier anymore, either.

      Apache finally laughed though she did eye the briefcase with some trepidation. Baby wondered if her sister could sense the bomb. She didn't want to mention the fact since people had moved far closer and she didn't want to panic anyone.

      I have already filed my complaint with the main office, Baby said. So, are you going to stick with me?

      I don't know. Will we be home for Christmas?

      What home?

      Don't be cynical.

      I don't know where we'll be, Apache, she confessed. She quickly related most of what Mickey had told her. Apache looked around the terminal with growing worry, and then at the case with a shake of her head.

      You're supposed to get on this plane, no questions asked? Apache said. Who made the arrangements?

      I don't know.

      Right. Let's go. We'll make other arrangements.

      I had hoped you would see things that way, Baby said and began to walk along with her. I've spent way too much time around here already. And you know, the night guard hasn't been around since before Mickey arrived. We put on quite a show, too.

      Damn. Come on. Apache started to jog and then slowed because running through the airport might draw even more attention.

      They passed people in the long corridors. Baby and Apache drew a few stares, but no more than usual. They'd always made an interesting pair.

      How'd you get here? Apache asked as they neared the exit.

      Cab.

      Why didn't you call me?

      "At midnight? You've got to be joking. I would have walked here before I called you to come help me at this late at night. Where's your car?"

      Used the VIP lot, she said with a frown. I didn't know this was going to be clandestine.

      If we haven't been noticed already, getting the car isn't going to make things worse, Baby said. She hurried as they stepped outside, letting the cool December air rush past her face. She wanted a way out of here.

      Apache continued to lead the way, looking worried, probably because she had no weapon. Then Baby realized Mickey had cuffed the case to her right hand. She would have a hard time holding any weapon properly. Hell, she couldn't even change clothes or put on a real coat. This was damned inconsiderate of a lot of people, and they were going to hear about it.

      Apache's silver Ferrari sat alone in one corner of the private lot. A guard looked when they entered the area, then nodded, and looked away.

      I don't like that, Baby said. People always question us.

      He questioned me on the way in. Asked for a date, in fact.

      Gee, that's so reassuring. Makes me trust him completely.

      He's already seen my ID, and called on it, in fact. She stopped and bit at her lower lip as they reached the car. So if there is anyone in the office working the other side, they know I'm on this one with you.

      Wouldn't have taken much to figure out anyway, Baby said. Let's go.

      Apache unlocked the door for Baby, and came around to her own side, slipping in with a bit of a sigh. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. Morning Glory wondered when she would really be able to rest.

      A jet took off with a deafening roar as they pulled out of the lot. Baby watched the plane with a little longing. Flying straight to New York and getting rid of the case had more appeal when she thought about the length of time this trip might take to otherwise get there.

      Then she thought about the three dead agents and decided she really didn't need to rest so much.

      Apache glanced at her as they stopped at a light. Can you handle a weapon?

      If I have to.

      Apache nodded and inched the car forward, anxious for the green light.

      What would you say to catching a flight out of Phoenix? Apache asked a mile or so later. I was heading for the Reservation for Christmas anyway. We can fly out and return and --

      You can go to the Reservation for Christmas, Baby finished for her.

      You can come too, you know.

      No, I don't think so. She lifted a hand when Apache began to protest. No. Look, I'm fine. You can go and visit the family. Tell them I said hi. I wouldn't mind seeing Cloud, but I won't risk another confrontation with Viviane, especially not over the holidays.

      You're too pale for them, Apache said, as though this was some kind of news. Maybe you should die your hair darker.

      I did. I looked like a ghost with black hair, which didn't work. I don't even tan properly.

      I know. But I hoped you'd join us this year, Apache said. The words surprised Baby. You haven't been there in five years. Viviane's the same, but some of the others always ask how you're doing.

      Really?

      Honestly. We're all getting older, Morning Glory Sangre. Calming, accepting.

      She laughed. You only use the name when you really want something out of me.

      Hey, you owe me for getting up before dawn to haul your ass out of trouble, Apache said. She grinned at her sister.

      So now it's your right to haul me off to more trouble? Baby demanded. Then she shrugged. I guess fair's fair. If I dispose of this problem in time, I guess I'll go with you. But don't expect the visit to be pleasant.

      Apache looked pleased by the answer. Sometimes Baby didn't understand any of the other Sangres, including Apache.

      Let's go by my apartment so I can grab a few things, Apache said. I didn't come out here very well prepared.

      Prepared would have been nice, Baby agreed. Warning would have been nicer. I wish I knew what's going on, Apache. I don't like this one. I really don't like it.

      Morning Star didn't argue.

      Two

      They drove in relative silence all the way north to Reseda and Apache's red brick apartment building. Baby followed her sister upstairs, slowly taking the steps. She didn't like stairs. The brace on her leg always made her feel clumsy when she had to take a lot of steps.

      Coming to Apache's apartment always felt like coming to a familiar, but lost, part of her life. The two had shared the apartment for a good many years until Baby moved out on her own two years ago. Their lives had been changing, and even though they both worked for FUTURE, they had started taking different paths. Baby rented an apartment across town. She and her sister saw each other often when they weren't working . . . and had grown quite far apart. Apache had even found acceptance in the family and Baby knew she never would.

      You're too quiet.

      She buried her thoughts as they hurried through the hall to the apartment door. This is a weird assignment. It's got me bugged.

      Me too. Apache pushed her apartment door open. The place looked neat enough, with hardly more than a few books and papers scattered out of place. They went straight for the bedroom and Baby settled on the unmade bed while her sister rummaged through the closet. Her own room, which had been down the hall, now housed Apache's current hobby -- an impressive collection of firing pins from guns someone had aimed at her.

      How is your leg? Apache asked with her head in a box. Wearing a good brace?

      The light one, she said, tapping the plastic at her knee.

      Better take a heavy one as well. Isn't there one here?

      Here, Baby said. He leaned down and pulled the brace out from under the bed where she'd left the brace last spring? She wiped the dust from the metal and settled the brace beside the briefcase. Then she reached under the bed and pulled out a small box holding one of her knives and a clip on sheath, which she placed on her belt, hidden under the t-shirt and the poncho. She felt better already.

      Apache frowned. I'm nervous, too. I want to get on the road as quickly as possible. I think you can still find enough of your belongings here so we don't have to go to your place, right?

      I've got everything I need, she said. Apache would be quick and at least they didn't have to worry about pets. Apache had owned a water dragon a few years ago, but Baby knew this wasn't the best time to approach the subject when they were heading for New York. Some things were best left unmentioned, if not forgotten, although the people at the office weren't likely to forget.

      Apache dropped a suitcase on the bed and began to stuff things into it. Some of the things belonged to Baby.

      You want to wear the light brace or this one?

      Light for now.

      She let Apache pack the heavier one and they immediately headed for the door. Anxious -- worried. Baby wanted to be on the road. Apache put a hand to the doorknob --

      A noise --

      Baby shoved her sister aside and tumbled down with her. The sound of the shotgun blast nearly deafened them as wood splintered. They had already begun crawling towards the kitchen.

      Someone must have followed us, Baby said as she began rifling through the nearest drawer.

      I watched.

      So did I. Baby pulled a long hunting knife from the drawer and tested its balance in her left hand. I would rather think they followed then someone told them where to find us. I don't like mistrusting our own side.

      I didn't know you trusted anyone. Can you throw left-handed?

      Baby gave her sister a reproachful look, and then turned when the man kicked the rest of the door open and began inching his way forward into the apartment, rifle held at his shoulder.

      This was an incredibly stupid way for him to enter, leaving most of his body open and his hands preoccupied. Surely he hadn't expected them to stand there waiting for him so he could shoot them without any trouble? Unprofessional --

      If he wasn't a professional, what was going on?

      She let the blade fly, aiming well. The knife cut into flesh in his side, but hit nothing vital. He made a sound of surprise and then fell backward, the rifle discharging upward. Lucky Apache lived on the top floor of the apartment house.

      This way, Apache said. She crossed to the man, kicked him in the head, and looked out the hall. Clear to the right.

      Not a good idea to use the fire escape. They'll have the ladder covered.

      Unless he worked alone.

      One man alone? On this case? Or did you recognize him?

      Recognize him? Apache involuntarily glanced down as she relieved the man of his rifle.

      I thought maybe he was one of your rejected lovers --

      Nah, not this one. Besides, they always return on their knees, begging for another chance. She quickly dismantled the rifle, shoving the firing pin in her pocket before they headed out into the hall.

      Let's go for the front door, Baby suggested. She could hear the sounds of other people in their apartments, and the police would arrive soon. If there is more than one, it's more likely to be clear than the fire escape.

      Okay. I think we better leave the Ferrari. Care for a brisk jog of a couple miles?

      Yeah, we look like joggers. Leave the suitcase and I'll leave the extra brace.

      I'll carry the brace, Apache said. New York in winter means snow and ice. You'll need it.

      Apache tossed the case into her apartment and hit the man in the head just as he started to sit up. He went straight down with a loud thump.

      Lucky hit, Baby said.

      I aimed for him! Apache insisted as she closed what was left the door and started towards the stairs.

      Oh, right. I'm supposed to believe you.

      People peered cautiously out of their doors. Baby ignored them and kept pace with her sister. She thought she heard someone mumble Them again and I thought the rowdy one moved out but she paid them no mind.

      They didn't go out the front door after all since quite a crowd had gathered there. Apache led her down to the laundry room and out the side door which opened to a small, enclosed yard with a single, neglected trellis covered in dead vines. Baby vaulted to the top of the wall and scanned the area before she nodded to Apache and slid down the far side.

      Sirens filled the air, heading their way. Baby shook her head in amazement since they could never find cops when they needed one.

      Apache landed beside her, took Baby's brace, and started jogging away at a good clip.

      Don't want to stick around and explain things to the police? Baby asked.

      Get serious. We were police, and we both know we wouldn't believe a story like this. Let the office take care of it.

      They climbed two more fences, dashed across a factory lot, and casually came out onto another street five blocks from the apartment.

      They jogged, which was less conspicuous than running. Baby knew where they were going, and sighed with relief when the old abandoned furniture factory with the for sale sign came into view. Half a block later they slipped into an alley and came to the grey building from behind.

      Get the car, Baby said. I'll get the gate.

      Apache paused, studying the alley.

      FUTURE doesn't even know about this site, Morning Star, Baby reminded her.

      True. Paranoia pays off again, Apache said.

      She leapt onto the wire fence and climbed over the top while Baby crossed to the gate. Someone had tried to jimmy the lock and failed. Though the lock looked like a regular padlock, there were tricks to getting it open. For one thing, no key would ever work. Baby had little trouble and pulled the gate back, watching nervously for police or vagrants. Homeless people took residence in the building now and then, but Baby and Apache had made a secret room for the car. The small, blue MGB Roadster was easy to hide.

      She could hear the engine start, cough to life -- when had they last taken the car out? -- and watched as Apache eased the little car through a very narrow loading dock door. Once in the alley, Baby swept the gate closed and locked, and threw herself gratefully into the car, glad to be under some cover.

      Call the office and get the mess at my apartment cleared up, will you? Apache said, nodding towards the cell phone nestled by the window on the narrow dashboard.

      Baby pushed the power cord into the lighter. The chain and briefcase made her awkward but she tapped in the number, mumbled the code and got the right line.

      FUTURE offices. Please state your name and designation.

      "Morning Glory Baby Sangre, Temporary courier."

      Purpose of call.

      To report an altercation at Apache's apartment. Please clear with LAPD.

      Acknowledged. Present location?

      No, no. We have enough problems. I'll report in when I'm ready.

      She hung up. By then Apache had found the onramp to Interstate 405 and headed southward. Somewhere north of Irvine, the sun finally rose on a gray, uninviting day. The Friday morning work traffic picked up as they reached Interstate 5 no one appeared to have much holiday cheer out there.

      The bad part about being in the MGB was how people seemed to take affront just looking at the car. Or maybe the little car reminded too many people of their childhood and playing bumper cars. They always seemed to purposely take a dive at it. Apache had gotten very good at swerving, swaying and staying one step ahead of the others. Baby never minded the game very much, except when the semis got in on the act.

      Eventually they left the work crowd behind and Morning Glory relaxed for the first time in hours. It was barely eight in the morning.

      So, what are we doing to do now? Apache asked.

      "I'll catch a flight out of Phoenix. I don't see any reason for you to go further with me. Get me on the plane and I'll head straight to the office on the other end.

      We'll go slowly to Phoenix, Apache decided. Take our time. Maybe they'll get tired of looking for you.

      Baby lifted the briefcase and peered intently at it. Somehow I doubt it. Remind me to kill Mickey Peterson first chance I get.

      I'll help. He deserves the trouble for getting us involved in something this early in the morning.

      The morning turned from gray drizzle to downpour. Apache pulled into a McDonalds near the San Juan Capistrano Mission. The MGB was not their favorite car to drive in the rain, especially amid crazed, frenzied holiday shoppers and harried 'late for work' people. Baby didn't even complain when they went inside, though she feared the poncho and the briefcase made the kind of fashion statement which was bound to draw all kinds of unwanted attention. She slid into a booth while Apache ordered the food. Her mood didn't improve when she realized she'd have to eat left-handed or rattle the chain through the entire meal.

      I'm going to kill him, Baby said.

      You're sounding more determined. Apache said as she sat down. She sipped at some orange juice and nibbled around the edge of a roll.

      I'm annoyed. She favored several noisy children with a glare which should have quelled them to shivering silence. The kids got louder. Apache glared, which didn't help any except to make the parents glare at them and never say a word to the four kids who were throwing food at each other.

      I don't get it, Apache finally said. How can they stand to live with that much noise? If we'd ever been so rude --

      One of the other Sangres would have had a justifiable reason to finally be rid of us, Baby answered with a quick grin. We had good survival instincts, you know.

      I think that's what convinced them we were real Sangres after all, Apache added. She turned away from the kids and tried to talk over the squealing of the baby and the screaming of a five year old. I'm going to head all the way to San Diego before we cut across on Highway 8. What's a couple more hours?

      Nothing to me. I'll sleep while you drive.

      Do you want to call ahead and book a flight?

      Are you crazy? Baby asked, food half way to her mouth. Or do you have a plan?

      Both. Let's book you on a flight out of Tucson. You'll leave from Phoenix.

      Ah. Let's book me out of San Francisco as well.

      San Diego.

      LA.

      And be certain to charge them all to FUTURE.

      They laughed and drew glares from the couple in the booth with the children. Paranoid people, Baby thought, to believe if someone laughed, they had to be laughing at them. Baby looked up and saw the crew-cut father glaring at them with unconcealed suspicion. His eyes went to the chain and he leaned closer to his wife. She looked over quite suddenly and away again.

      Apache saw the look of worry in her sister's face. She shifted to Mandarin, which they both spoke fluently and a language not likely to be known by the family.

      Do you think they'll be problems? Apache asked.

      Anyone who draws attention to us is a problem, Baby said. Their change in language had not gone unnoticed, and certainly wasn't appreciated for their fluency.

      We don't need this, Apache answered. Her hand slipped down to toward the knife hidden beneath her jacket.

      Intend to murder him in McDonalds? How un-poetic.

      But justified, Apache said. Somehow, I don't think we'd be the only one's going for them, too. I've seen three people leave already, and two more look ready to attack. They need a leader to show them the way.

      Baby laughed and didn't complain when her sister began packing away their trash to leave. She had lost most of her appetite. When she stood, the man caught a glimpse of the handcuff and the chain and she purposely let him see the briefcase in case he suspected she'd escaped from a chain gang. His attitude didn't improve as far as she could tell.

      One of children ran around the corner of the trashcan and tripped. Baby hadn't thought the child could scream any louder and looked to see the father shoving a couple older kids out of the way.

      There, there child, Apache said, sitting the child on her feet. Go to your father.

      He had already started towards her. The child intercepted the man and by the time he got himself untangled, the two agents were already out the door.

      I can't believe you tripped her, Baby said, shaking her head. That's my work!

      All in the line of duty, Apache said and grinned. She unlocked the door on Baby's side. Baby glanced over her shoulder as she climbed in. Oh yes, they were still being watched.

      Apache leapt into her own side and started the car, pulling out into the water slick lot and leaving with a squeal of tires.

      Do you think we could draw much more attention? Baby asked.

      I can try. Apache replied. But she didn't. Instead she pulled into a nearby grocery store parking lot, though the place looked closed. Tune in the receiver.

      You bugged that kid!

      Not nearly as much as the kid bugged me. Short range transponder, but I didn't think we should sit in the McD's parking lot and listen to them.

      Good point.

      Baby tuned in the MGB's fancy --and non-standard radio -- until she heard the familiar yell of children and a growling voice.

      No, they ain't government couriers, the father said. They're dealing drugs, I can smell it. I'm calling the police. They're wanted. I know it.

      Not wanted by many, Baby said winning a nod of agreement from her sister.

      Ralph, can't you for once stop playing cop, the woman whined. We're on vacation!

      Just because we've left Nebraska doesn't mean I'm not duty bound to do what's right, Mary.

      Should have known he was a backwoods cop, Baby said. I always thought Nebraska would make a better inland lake than a state.

      Kids yelled. Ralph had apparently left the table, and Baby turned down the volume when the little girl with the bug began screaming again.

      Call the office and tell them what trouble we've run into this time, Apache said. She shook her head with disbelief.

      We'll have to tell them where we are. Kind of defeats the purpose of being sneaky, doesn't it?

      "Yes, there is that little problem. Let's wait and see what Officer Ralph says when he gets back.

      Baby nodded and leaned back, willing to rest for a few minutes, though Ralph didn't take nearly long enough to return to the table.

      Well, the local force is gonna' handle them. They must have been looking for the two already. They thanked me real polite for calling in.

      This can't be right, Baby said, sitting up.

      On this assignment? Ha! Apache turned down the radio as another kid started screaming. We better call in and get this one settled too. Better the office knows where we are than we try to explain the nice little bomb attached to your wrist.

      You aren't going to try to outrun them?

      I get the feeling we don't have time, Apache said as a police car went by -- slowly.

      Oh hell.

      Baby called in while Apache fidgeted with the radio. The sound of the Nebraskans got louder as she hung up.

      If you don't make those kids settle down Mary, I'm leaving you all here. I don't need this bullshit!

      "God damn it, Ralph, I'm tired of you acting like none of

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