Things are getting pretty tricky. The situation is escalating rapidly. It’s up to Deacon and Fiddlestix to contain it before someone gets killed.

Around 2:00 in the morning the perimeter alarm sounded. Search lights lit the compound, tacking back and forth slowly. There was a large armored vehicle at the gate.

“I’m not about to let that in,” Karl told them. “I want a team all over it like flies on shit.”

Dirk and his team tested the vehicle with everything they owned.

“Either the bugger’s not rigged or it’s so cleverly concealed we can’t see it,” Dirk told them after their search was complete.

“Leave it outside,” Karl told them. “It’s not an accident that it’s here.”

A feeling of disquietude was creeping up Fiddlestix’ spine making her shiver. “We’ve got to get it out of here!”

“What’s wrong?” Deacon was worried, he’d never seen her so afraid.

“It’s evil, Deacon! We have to get it out of here!”

“Should I tell Tully to blow it up?”

“NO! We have to take it away.”

They chained the Hummer to the rear of the car and towed it away from the compound. Loki took the car to the abandoned quarters of the Château Noir and ran like hell back to the Harlich compound. Hearing an ominous sound behind him, he turned and saw the woods alight with a sick blue glow.

Putting on a turn of speed, he ran as quickly as he could back to the Harlich compound. Thankful for two cyber legs, he leaped over the fence without waiting for them to open it. The light was visible above the trees.

Loki’s eyes were wide with horror. “What is that thing?”

“Sweet Jesus,” Tully gasped. “Where the bloody hell would he get one of them?”

“What?”

“It’s a sanitizer!” Tully whispered, horror stricken.

“A what?” Loki was scared and that made him angry.

“It’s a bloody bomb, in’t it? That kills every living thing in its radius and then dissipates. Course the building’s left, a’ight? But the people are gone in a flash.” He snapped his fingers under Loki’s nose.

“We’re awfully goddam lucky you played that hunch, Hannah,” Karl said quietly.

“What do you think Varin will do now that he thinks we’re dead?” Blacksmith put into words what they were all thinking.

“I think he’ll be giving Preston a call in the morning,” Deacon said calmly. “Telling him that the owner’s reconsidered and taken him up on his latest offer.”

The call from Donnan Varin came around 9:30. Deacon did his best acting job ever, sounding pleased that Don had given him such good news. Fiddlestix could see the tightness at the corners of his mouth.

“That was by far the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” he admitted sadly.

“It’ll be okay, Deacon. We’ll win this,” Fiddlestix assured him.

Fiddlestix and Deacon went upstairs dressing quickly and met the others on the boat. An aura of disquietude fell over them as they headed up the coast to Donnan Varin’s house. Varin didn’t come to the dock this time, but had sent a small contingent to greet them.

Varin met them at the door, inviting them in with an insincere smile. “Preston! Good of you to come by! Please, come in.”

“So, Don, did your deal go through as planned?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Varin told him with a grin. “The fellow who owns the land turned very cooperative when I upped the ante.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Scarlet Varin gazed at the computer screen, watching Don. “He knows something,” she said flatly.

“You think Deacon’s cover is blown?” Fiddlestix was starting to worry.

“I think it’s very possible.”

Having set up a good persona, Deacon and the others decide to try to beat Donnan Varin at his own game. They set about conning the con artist.

“Your friends are welcome to have a seat,” Varin said with false good humor.

“Thank you, they don’t sit, Mr. Varin. I don’t think the boys’ knees bend.” He chuckled, smiling in his most disarming way. “Say, let’s stop all this formal stuff. I’d be proud if you’d call me Pres. May I call you Don?”

“Certainly!” Varin’s smile was forced and he kept looking at the three bodyguards. “May I offer you some refreshment? I’ve got a fine selection.”

“Thanks, no, Don. I’m not a drinking man.” He smiled as
Don was served a drink and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair.

“Mr. Keith,” Varin began.

Deacon held up a well manicured hand, his gold and diamond pinky ring glittering richly in the light. “Now, Don, we agreed. Call me Pres.”

“Pres,” Varin corrected himself with a forced smile. “When your people contacted me, they said you have a business proposal for me?”

Deacon’s five star smile flashed across the room nearly blinding in its sincerity. “I do indeed, Don. As my assistant told you, I’m looking to expand into the Florida real estate market.”

Don leaned back, crossing his legs and grasping his left knee in his interlocked hands. “As a matter of fact, I have a piece of property in mind that would be ideal….”

“I’d sure like to see it,” Deacon grinned, preparing to stand.

“Oh, it’s not quite ready for settlement yet, Preston.” Varin nearly jumped from his seat. “We’re still negotiating with the current owner.”

“I see.” Deacon frowned. “Don, I thought we were clicking here. Maybe I need to be talking to the land owner one on one, not going through you.”

He stood, preparing to leave. Varin leapt to his feet, face registering his alarm.

“Now, Preston, let’s not be hasty! As a matter of fact, the owner is seriously considering my offer. I expect to hear from him tomorrow.”

Allowing himself to be placated, Deacon sat again on the edge of his uncomfortable chair.

“Well, Don, that’s got a nice ring to it. I reckon I can wait another day before I go elsewhere.”

Deacon signaled that it was time to go. Don accompanied him to the dock and saw him off.

“Well,” Deacon said once the shore was out of sight. “Y’all heard. So what do you think?” He kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie.

“You were very convincing,” Scarlet said.

“He’s such a greedy bastard,” Deacon said angrily. “How could you marry a man like that, Scarlet?”

Scarlet’s eyes lost their gleeful glitter. “Don wasn’t always so bad,” she told him. “He changed after awhile.”

“Money and power change a man,” Deacon said undoing his
jacket and slipping it off. He shook his head sadly. “Kind of have to pity a man living like that.”He lay down, putting his head in Fiddlestix’ lap.

“Don’t make the mistake of pitying Donnan Varin.” Scarlet said scathingly. “He’s made a fortune off other people’s misfortune and he’ll keep doing it.”

“What would you do with the company, Scarlet?” Fiddlestix was playing with Deacon’s hair.

Scarlet’s expression changed from anger to nostalgic. “I want to complete what Don started, making affordable housing for the poor. That was our noble purpose. It sounds foolish now, like naive children.”

“No,” Deacon answered sleepily. “It sounds like you had a dream in common. Kinda sad to see a dream die.” His voice got soft as he drifted to sleep.

Fiddlestix heard Scarlet sniffle and looked up at the other woman with concern. “You okay?”

Scarlet nodded, then shook her head adamantly. “I don’t know. Part of me hates his guts and the other part still loves him so much it hurts!”

“I understand, Scarlet. Except for Deacon, every man I’ve ever loved has made me feel that way.”

“I don’t want to kill Don, I just want him to be himself again.” She wept uncontrollably.

Fiddlestix rose carefully, putting Deacon’s head on a cushion. She went over and sat by Scarlet, hugging her tightly, she let her cry.

“Love sucks,” Scarlet sniffled.

Fiddlestix glanced over at Deacon’s profile, so handsome and peaceful. “Just when you love the wrong person. When it’s right, there’s nothing better.”

They sailed to the Harlich compound quickly. Deacon woke shortly before they docked. He and Fiddlestix went immediately to Karl’s office.

After another conference to discuss what had transpired at Varin’s they ate a quiet supper and went to bed early.

The battle won, an enemy defeated, there still remains the problem of Donnan Varin. Can they beat him too? Or is he too well protected?

Loki shimmered into sight, heaving with exertion. Halfway back to the Harlich line, Loki staggered, the wound to his chest bloody and ragged. Blood oozed slowly from the tear in his reinforced skin. The pellet had not penetrated, but had left a scarlet bruise between his ribs. Garwood ran out to meet them.

“I’m fine,” Loki gasped. “Stumpy got hit bad.”

Garwood and two of the Harlich soldiers ran to the field and found Stumpy crumpled in a heap, the ground around him soaked in blood and cyber fluid. They carried him to the nearest house, turning it into a field hospital for all the wounded. After a furious 30 minutes, they had the small Oriental man stabilized.

“Garwood,” Fiddlestix hated what she had to say, but knew it was right. “Thank you. You did great today.”

Garwood blushed and smiled. “You did too,” she said shyly.

Dirk was resting at Karl’s, his wounds clean and bound. Fiddlestix was chatting with him when a commotion at the front gate distracted her. Someone was talking very loud and extremely fast. She knew that voice.

“Deacon?” She gasped, rushing from the room.

Dashing out of the house, Fiddlestix ran to the front gate. Deacon and a large group of soldiers were there trying to identify themselves.

“It’s all right,” she told the sergeant in charge. “He’s General Deacon Scott of the Shine Clan. He’s here to help.”

The Harlich soldiers let Deacon and his men in, their vehicles taking up most of the town square. Deacon set some of his men to work rebuilding and reinforcing the walls and gates. Another group joined Karl’s men to hunt down the Noir.

Having done his duty, Deacon turned to her with a grin. “You’ve been in a mess, girl,” he chuckled. “I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute, can I?”

“No,” she kissed him. “I’m hopelessly lost without you.” Her eyes glittered happily. “Let’s find Karl, you two need to meet.”

Karl was standing on the shore looking at the Ophelia with awe. The dock was in ruins. Their boats were destroyed and at bottom of the river. There were men in diving gear gathering the debris and clearing the inlet.

“So this is Deacon!” Karl shook the taller man’s hand with great enthusiasm.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Deacon told Karl.

“Haven’t heard a damn thing about you,” Karl joked. “Fiddle’s not been home for awhile. Though I hope that will change now.” He faltered slightly, but Deacon held him up.

Karl’s shoulder was bandaged but starting to ooze blood again. Fiddlestix insisted he go back to his house with them and rest.

“No one will mind if you sit down for a few minutes,” she told him gruffly.

Together, the three of them walked back to Karl’s house. Deacon demanded a full recounting of the battle from both Karl and Fiddlestix before he was happy. It took a long time to tell because he kept interrupting with questions, but eventually he had a clear picture.

“So Garwood came in handy after all, huh?” Deacon was amazed.

“She’s not Garwood,” Fiddlestix said abruptly.

“Beg pardon?” Deacon gaped at her.

“She’s Scarlet Varin, I’m sure of it.”

“What is she doing pretending to be Amber Garwood?”

“We’ll have to ask Garwood that,” Fiddlestix said simply.

“Ask me what?” Garwood walked in quietly while they were talking.

“I know it’s you, Scarlet,” Fiddlestix told her. “I don’t know why you chose to go to Texas and pretend to be Amber Garwood, but I’m sure you have a good reason.”