Pygmalion

By DocPaul

Chapter Thirty-eight: The Prince leading into darkness…

Eyes tell of morbid tales, of his black heart.
His deeds through ages past tell of his part.  

See his face, see his smile.
Time to die, o-oh, no-oh, no-oh.  

The Prince by Metallica

Day Fifty-two: Thursday, 7:13 am

Sean spilled out of bed to the sound of the ringing of his cell phone. Cursing not so quietly, he struggled to untangle his phone from his clothing.

“Yeah?”

“We have a meet with your Chameleon. Ten o’clock this morning. The tracks.” Sean sat staring at the phone. His uncle’s assistant. Chameleon. Struggling to see the clock, Sean swore again as he pulled himself back up into the bed.

“Julia! Hey, Mac. Wake up.”

“Sleeping.” Julia buried her head deeper into the pillow pulling the covers over her body. The guest room bed in her friend’s house was smaller than she was used to, and Sean was a space and cover hog. Add in a large fluffy white feline, and it was easy to imagine comfort being limited.

“Fine, Counselor. I guess as long as you don’t mind that it’s after seven A.M., then there isn’t a problem….”

Julia suddenly sat up. “Seven?!” She squeaked tumbling out of bed in a mad dash. “Seven! I’ve got a meeting in  chambers at eight!”

Sean sat on the bed watching her rush about. Oh, yeah. This was all going to be his fault. One... Two... Oops where are her shoes? Sean’s eyes narrowed as he noticed one sticking out of his jacket pocket across the chair. Three... Four... She was already in the shower. Five... Six.... Seven... Uh huh. Multitasking fanatic. She was brushing her teeth while showering. He could hear her trying to talk at the same time. Eight... Nine... Sean brushed the Fluff off the bed and climbed back under the covers, sighing. He had a good hour before he needed to be up. Leaning back against the pillow, he decided to forego immediate sleep to enjoy the show.

Julia was out of the bathroom roughly toweling her hair, trying to find her hair dryer. Sean whistled under his breath as her towel dropped. Uh. Huh. Good position. Comfy. Good view. Sean’s head tipped a little as a smile pulled at his mouth. Very, very good view. Ten...

“What are you smiling at?” Julia snarled as she brushed her hair back, uncaring of her nude state. Grabbing her undergarments and a skirt, she quickly wiggled into them. Oh yeah. He was happy to have it be his fault. “This is totally your fault! Didn’t you say you set the alarm? You said you set the alarm!” Julia looked at the clock and swore as she stood there in a camisole and her skirt, legs bare and no shoes. Her hair was loose and untamed, still slightly wet. He watched, breathing deeply, as she tried to put on her makeup. Her bending over was exposing a nice length of leg.

“What time are you through today?” Sean asked softly. Damn, couldn’t she make late day appointments and forego early ones just once?

“After five. Before six.” Julia stopped and looked at him. “Why?”

Sean stretched. “Just wondering if you wanted to meet for dinner. I’m not sure when I’m off, but if you call me before you’re through, I’ll see what I can do.”

Julia appeared to be thinking about it, but suddenly smiled. “Okay, I’ll call you.” Leaning down she kissed him goodbye. What started as a quick kiss turned into more as Sean refused to cooperate with her limited time schedule. “I really have to go.”

“Call in sick. Stay here.”

“Here?” Julia said motioning to the bed. “And you? How long are you staying?”

“I’ve got a meeting at ten.”

“And what I am supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

“Sleep in?” Sean suggested.

“Uh huh. I see.” Julia grabbed her bag and jacket. “See ya.”

Sean laughed as she started to storm out of the room. He loved it when she got her back up and was all frustrated with him. “Whoa, there, Counselor! Think you might need a shirt or something?”

Julia looked down at her bra clad top and swore a blue streak at Sean on her way out of the room huffily putting on her blouse as she went. She was already late, thanks to him.

Sean laughed. Yeah, he knew it would be his fault. His laughter deepened as he heard her uninterrupted bitching and downgrading of his parentage as she stormed down the stairs.

“Hey! My parents were married by the time I was born. Technically!” Sean called after her. “Hey, don’t leave mad! Take it out on me. I’m kind of excited here.” The last thing he heard from her before the door slammed on her way out was for him to take care of it himself.

“Oh, like I’m going to beat myself up.” Sean, still chuckling, reached for the phone. Since he was awake, he might as well wake up other people.

~~~

Michael opened the door, grunting at him evilly. The noise from the addition was underway, and he had been banned from that area while power tools were being used. He noticed the dark walnut trim for his new room, but Stan had stood in his way, barring the entrance. Add in Sean calling him early, and Michael wasn’t in a great mood.

Mr. Boo was busy grooming himself, occasionally stopping to comment on the condition of his food dish that somehow had been missed lately, during cleaning. It was looking a little dusty and surprisingly empty. This state of affairs needed to be quickly rectified.

“Stop your bitching. You’re already on my bad side. My socks! Can’t you take it out on my dress shirts, dress socks, or anything else? What about my tuxedo? You can have that! Why my damn athletic socks?”

Mr. Boo presented his large behind to show his uncaring concern of Michael’s rant. The answer was obvious to the more intelligent of the species. Dress shirts and socks were not nearly as soft and comfy as shredded cotton athletic socks. And tuxedos? Come on! Seeing Ms. Fluffy’s male pet enter the loft, and no Ms. Fluffy, Boo went off on another list of grievances.

“Morning, Sean!” Maria called, coming down the stairs in a chipper mood. Picking up her portly feline, she quickly hugged him and scratched under his chin. “Patience, Mr. B, my love, I’m working on a permanent residence. You’ll just have to trust me.” It might take some work convincing Sean and Julia into taking the empty lofts, but that would finish the last of the renovations.

Sean smiled at his cousin. Suddenly over the last week or so, she finally looked pregnant. Her arms, face and legs were still thin, but her stomach was finally looking much healthier for a pregnant woman. Kissing her cheek, he went to pour coffee.

“That’s…” Maria laughed when Sean grimaced. “....decaffeinated.”

Michael hugged his coffee cup close to the vest. It was his private stash. Maria’s decaffeinated with some real instant coffee added. Nasty. Black. Umm. Good.

“Why are you here, Sean?” Michael looked at his watch. It wasn’t even nine yet. “You’re not moving back in.”

“Nope. We’ve got a lead on Chameleon. Meeting at ten at the racing park. That’s if you can tear yourself away.”

Maria looked at the two of them, uncertain what she should say, but silence was never one of her strong points. “Is this because of the contract?”

“Yeah.” Sean searched for a cigarette, glancing at Michael quickly. Not wanting to be in the middle of another confrontation, he went on before Maria could comment. “So we need to get there early. My uncle’s man will be waiting. Needless to say, that will be the extent of Family involvement.”

“Chameleon is too smart to get caught in a trap. Why would he walk in without question?”

“Normally he wouldn’t. Thing is, he wants his money upfront, as usual. The Family refused to transfer directly into a numbered account, so Chameleon has two options. He can refuse the contract, which he did not. Or, he can accept the method of payment. The Family refuses to leave trails that lead back to them, even electronic ones. They work with unmarked cash and a personal drop only.”

“He’ll expect a set up.”

Sean looked at Maria. “Maybe. Maybe not. My involvement with the Family, and even M’s, aren’t that well publicized or known. It’s been over ten years for us. There’s no reason to think we’re still connected. Add in that Maria is married to a cop, and her cousin is a cop…”

“And that the entire DeLuca family just came to a wedding a few weeks back, part of a large loving family?” Michael commented sourly. “Don’t think he wasn’t watching! Don’t think Strickland didn’t give him intel about us.”

“Michael, granted, this could be a set up for us as well. I concede that point. But, I’m telling you that the Family works this way. Chameleon has run rogue contracting in the States, but the majority of his work has been in Central America and Europe. A contract with the Mob or an outlet into that area will open avenues for him. He’s wanting to make a name for himself. This man has pride. He’s the best at what he does, and he needs an audience. This is his in.”

“I should be the one to go.” Maria said.

“No!” Both men’s voice rose in unison, firm and strong.

“It was my contract. My idea. He would be expecting…”

“No!” Michael voice was louder and firmer.

Maria opened her mouth to argue, but quickly shut it. They stood facing each other and she backed down. She wouldn’t be able to push Michael on this. She already knew that.

Looking at Sean, she began,  “Sean, don’t you think…”

Michael pointed a finger at her. “Don’t! I mean it, Maria! Do not push him. I swear, so help me God, I will put you over my knee and spank you!”

Maria’s eyebrow went up at that. Physical violence? He was threatening to discipline her? Maria cleared her throat sounding much like her mother. “Very well.” She hooked her hand around Michael’s neck and pulled him into a hot and intense kiss bordering on brutal. A brutal assault of his equilibrium. “I expect you to follow through later on that spanking threat, Detective.” Maria said with a cheeky smile. She took herself off to the new addition to check on the work and Stan, knowing this would irritate Michael even further, since he couldn’t go there.

Michael look of outrage made Sean bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud. “What is it with you, DeLuca?!”

Sean and Michael talked about the logistics of their meeting and it was almost time for them to leave when the knock on the loft door brought Maria back from the other side. Michael immediately spied the flakes of sugar glaze on her mouth, and the large dripping donut in her hand that had a large bite taken out of it. Maria looked guilty and quickly shoveled the entire thing in her mouth before Michael could snatch it from her. Was her fault that Stan’s crew had Krispy Crèmes, or that the other side was off limits to Michael? Her babies had to come first.

Michael’s dark glance told her that he was really contemplating that threatened spanking. The heat rushed up her neck, and Maria opened the door fanning herself with her hand. It was probably the sugar load.

“Zeke?” Maria stepped back as the young man entered. He looked terrible. Devastated. Maria quickly hugged him hard and she was surprised to feel a slight tremor coming from him.

“She’s gone. Margo is gone.”

Maria looked at him in sympathy and then quickly shared a look with Michael. Of course they knew. Jonathan told them as soon as Margo approached him and the Foundation. Michael came to stand beside Maria pulling her back a little. It didn’t take much for Zeke to see them as a united front.

“You knew?” His looked of betrayal was hard to take, but neither Maria nor Michael would deny the truth.

“You should be in school.”

“Fuck school!” Zeke strode into the loft, his agitation growing and evident in his pacing. “You should’ve told me! Warned me! One night. I get to have her one night, and then what? Nothing? Forever? This is what? The rest of my fucking life!”

“Oh!” Maria put a hand to her mouth. Oh damn! They slept together. That hadn’t been expected. She looked at Michael helplessly. Michael squeezed her hand in comfort. This was his role to play.

“Zeke, you can lower your voice. Yelling isn’t going to change anything. As far as school, I’ll cut you some slack.” Michael looked at his watch. “I don’t have time right now to stop and deal with this, so…”

“So? So what? I’m on my own until you do have time?” Zeke’s anger was turning his face red.

“So...,” Michael said ignoring his outburst. “You’ll have to come with Sean and me. We’ve got a special sting. But I want you to stay clear and out of harm’s way.” Michael looked the young man straight in the eyes. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, yeah, man. I’m good.” Zeke slowly calmed down as the promise of an adventure temporarily overshadowed his disappointment at waking up to find Margo really gone. “Dude, I don’t want to be a cop.”

“Not everyone is perfect. Give me a chance to work on you.” Michael grabbed his jacket. Kissing Maria on the mouth, then kissing her again to savor the taste of that damn donut, he whispered to her that he’d take care of it. Slapping Zeke on the back, they followed Sean out. “You know it’s a family tradition. My dad was a cop. My grandfather. His father. Some traditions are hard to fight.”

Zeke looked at Sean. “You come from a long line of cops too?”

Sean smiled cruelly at Michael. “No way, man. Mafia hitmen.”

“Epic! That’s too cool!”

Michael swore under his breath, and hit Sean upside the head. “Shut up, Sean. You’re setting a bad example.”

Zeke suddenly looked excited. “So where are we going? Who are we taking down?”

“We’re going to see the Mob, and apprehend the serial bomber, Chameleon.”

“Cool! Shotgun!”

Michael rolled his eyes and pushed Zeke into the backseat, looking back at Maria in the doorway of the loft. He nodded to her. Yeah, he’d keep an eye on her boy. Maria blew him a kiss. He could hear her in his head telling him to take care, and come home in one piece. Michael smiled to himself. He always came home.

~~~

“Joseph, how are you?”

“Good, Sean. Very good. Yourself?”

“Homeless right now, but I’m working on getting into a renovated loft.” Sean chatted with his uncle’s man as Michael watched the room. There was no viewing access, only audio, so he was peeking through a door. They were going to wait for the drop to be made, and take it from there. They didn’t want to take any chance that Chameleon sent a courier.

“In Maria’s lofts?”

“Yeah. I still need to talk my fiancée into it.”

“Fiancée? I hadn’t heard. Does your mother know yet?”

“Not yet. My fiancée barely knows. She sort of said yes, so I’m waiting for a firm yes before I turn my family loose.”

“Smart man.” Joey took a call on his cell. “He’s here.” He looked at Sean and Michael. “How do you want this to go down? He’ll know both of you since you were targets.”

“I can go.” They looked over at the quiet Zeke.

“No!” chorused Michael and Sean at the same time.

Joseph looked the young kid over. “It might work.”

“I said no!” Michael stressed.

“Hear me out. Chameleon knows that the contract was underwritten by a family member. He doesn’t know who. We used the excuse that the owner of the contract wanted to stress its completion - its expedient completion. Neither of you can do that, and all my people smell of professionals. This kid feels clean.”

Zeke looked at Michael. “Mrs. Mulhoney was like a grandmother to me. She was my family. Let me do this. You’re here. Both you and Sean. I know that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Maria would have something to say about that.”

“Maria is exactly my concern. She’ll hit the roof if she knew that you were suggesting this, or that I was even considering letting you.”

Zeke tipped his head. “I know, but this should be my choice. What’s more important? My safety or bringing in Chameleon so Maria and the others are safe?”

Michael and Sean exchanged a look. They had no time, and Maria started it when she put out the contract. Nodding, Michael quickly checked the clip in his gun.

“Come on, kid.” Joseph led Zeke into the other room. Michael leaned against the door, Sean close to his side. Zeke went to stand next to the large window looking down at the racing track. “Do you know what to say? I think maybe if you…”

“I’ll wing it. It’ll be okay.” Joseph looked at the young man who suddenly didn’t seem like such a kid. His eyes. They were old. Too old for someone his age.

“I’ll leave a couple of the boys in here for protection.”

Zeke nodded and went back to looking at the races. Taking a pair of binoculars he watched the as the horses rounded the track. Not bothering to turn around when the door opened, he waited for Chameleon to make the first move.

The man cleared his throat. “So are we going to talk or are we going to watch races all day?”

Zeke put away the binoculars and looked at the man. He was of medium height with nondescript brown hair. There was nothing extraordinary about him. He was neither noteworthy in looks nor repulsive. He blended into the millions of nameless, faceless humans that roamed the Earth. Perhaps that was his strength. People rarely made note of a shadow.

“You’re Chameleon?” The man nodded, but he didn’t vocally acknowledge anything. “Look, either you are or you aren’t. I don’t want to deal with some middle man. I want to know that what I am hiring you for will be done, and that it will be done quickly. I hear you’re good. That’s all I need to know.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he took in the boy. “I know you.”

“Yeah, I know you too.” Zeke answered, making the listening Michael and Sean stiffen. “You bombed my home, the Loft complex downtown, killing a person who was very close to me.”

The man nodded. “I know.” He took out a cigarette and lit it. “So is this a ploy for revenge? You want to strike at me, boy?”

Zeke walked into the room ignoring the two men that Joseph had left with him. “I would love to strike back at you. See you die a slow painful death. Alone.” Zeke’s jaw flexed in anger. “But even I know that behind every soulless puppet is someone pulling the strings. I’m more interested in the puppeteer, Strickland. I was told it was Strickland, and that’s who I’m interested in. Not you. Not yet.”

“I admit I broke a rule. I never allow anyone to see me or know my face. But I was intrigued.” Chameleon sat on the edge of a chair. “How desperate are you or whoever is paying for this contract to find me, to draw me out? If it’s the cops, it’s interesting to see how easily they align themselves to the other side to meet their objective.” Chameleon’s eyes narrowed behind the cloud of exhaled smoke. “So what is your connection, boy?”

Zeke’s clenched at the constant emphasis on his age. “Well, if you really are Chameleon, which I doubt, I must say you are utterly unimpressive.” Zeke faked nonchalance. “As you might know, the DeLucas are connected. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the entire clan. I asked for the favor. I asked for Mrs. Mulhoney. A sweet elderly woman who deserved to live the course of her natural life surrounded by those who loved her. Her loss has haunted me. I want the man who has no conscience and doesn’t care about the terror he invites on innocent victims. You, I can overlook. You have a job. You do it. There is no emotion involved. The person who hired you…that’s a different story.” Zeke turned and looked out at the races again. “I wanted him hunted. I want him so afraid that he can’t sleep at night, and the very taste of paranoia to be like a huge acid hole in his stomach. I want him to feel what Mrs. Mulhoney must have felt the last moment of her life.”

“Why me?”

Zeke sighed and looked at the man again. His honest response had softened the Chameleon’s back, made him relax his stance. The kid’s voice was ringing true and full of suppressed anger at Strickland.

“Why you? Who else but you? It’s ironic and appropriate that the very viper he hired to do his dirty work turns and smites him down. Strickland opened a whirlwind. I want him to feel the sting of terror. And that’s where you come in.” Zeke’s voice sounded hollow and far away as he stared past Chameleon, his eyes seeing what others could not. “Hell is coming.”

Chameleon nodded. Fine. He could use the work. Not for the money. That he had. It was for reputation and a name. He wanted to establish himself in the United States. This was a good step forward. “Then we can deal, young Ezekiel.”

Zeke was startled at Chameleon knowing his real name. Michael told him that the man was thorough. “Why did you let me see your face? What if it was a set up?”

Chameleon laughed. Shrugging, he held out his hands. “I placed a bomb in the room when I entered. If you were a problem, you and the others wouldn’t have survived to give a description.” Chameleon put out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Let’s see the money.”

Zeke gestured at one of the other men in the room, who came forward with a suitcase. He opened it and turned it to face Chameleon. who looked the money over. Taking a small bundle and flipped through it. Small bills. Non-sequential. Unmarked. Closing the suitcase, he nodded at Zeke.

“How soon?”

Chameleon shrugged. “Strickland went mole, but I can find him. I kept a close eye on him.” Taking the case, he headed for the door. “It will be done in forty-eight hours. Any longer than that, and I will refund your payment.” It was a risk he could take. It would show his honor and professionalism. Strickland was all but dead. Zeke nodded and looked out the window again with his hands clasped behind his back.

Chameleon left the room whistling under his breath. Good times. He’d finish Strickland, then take out Valenti. That would end that contract sufficiently. All that was left was the lady Assistant DA. Chameleon slipped his hand into his pocket and hit the receiver unit disarming the bomb he had activated when he entered the room. Close. It had only five more minutes on the automatic timer. All that would’ve been left of the horsetracks would’ve been a hole. A large hole.

He never knew what hit him.

~~~

Michael looked down at the man he had just coldcocked. “Sean, call Bomb Squad. He’s got a transceiver. The building has to be wired.” Zeke came out of the door and down the hall to look at the still figure. “You did good.”

“Think he is really Chameleon?”

“Yeah. He was too cold and arrogant. He would’ve felt it was an insult to send someone else. Your answers were good. He was ready to detonate the entire building.”

“What now?” Zeke asked as he handed the case of money back to the man who had held it originally.

Michael looked at Zeke. “Now we interrogate!”

“Righteous.”

~~~

Zeke watched the interrogation from the dark room behind the two way mirror. Michael was in the room calmly leaning against a wall as Max started the questions. Sean was in the dark room with Zeke, Hanson, Chief Daniel Travalis, Captain Simon Morley and Captain Jim Valenti.

“You missed your primary initiative. Captain Valenti.”

Chameleon was watching Max, but his eyes kept glancing at a quiet Michael.

“Not really. My orders were to terrorize Valenti. Make him lose everyone he loves. Harm them. Frighten them out of their comfort zone. I did that.”

“You did. Rather effectively. But you missed at the loft complex.”

“Nobody’s perfect.

“Right,” said Max. “Not even the people who pay you. I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your employers or anything.” Max leaned forward. “I’m not sure I believe that you are Chameleon.”

The man’s eyes glinted in anger. Michael’s eyes narrowed. Good. Very good. His pride would be his downfall.

“I am who I am. I’m loyal to the people I work for.” His dark brown eyes narrowed. “Even when I was in the USSR’s version of Special Forces, I performed my duty without question. Unblinking.”

I’m not suggesting you betray any of your employers,” said Max, smiling as wide as he could.

“My loyalty remains until my job is done.”

Max nodded. “Commendable.” He looked at Michael.

Michael’s voice was deep and low, cold and precise. “And yet, you know your employer whether they know you or not. You keep tabs on them as closely as you keep on your target. And you keep records too.”

Chameleon turned to Michael, recognizing a kindred soldier. “War is hell. Life is imprecise. I owe my loyalty as far as the completion of contract. There is no provision for me to give up my life. My life is my own. I do not barter with it.”

Michael’s eyebrow raised at that obvious contradiction in belief. Obviously loyalty had a different meaning to Chameleon than it did to him.

“Your Strickland is a cop. He took the war to the cops, first in targeting Valenti and his family, and then in targeting the cops in their own shop. That is on my employers head. Not mine. I do my job.”

“Your job, your skill is damn elegant. That is if you are who you say you are.” Michael noticed that Chameleon’s eyes narrowed again.

“There is nothing worse than blood betraying blood.” Chameleon was after all once a soldier….a soldier trained. He took Strickland’s contract, but he didn’t have to like Strickland, and he felt no honor from that man.

“You picked up an open contract on your own employer.”

Chameleon laughed. “An open contract? There is no such thing. It was very much directed at me. Only a fool would believe in an open contract. Money first, always.”

“Yet, you informed Strickland that he was targeted. Why?”

Chameleon looked at his hands. “A sitting target is an easy contract. A running one is more competitive. Better sport.”

Michael understood this. He wanted Chameleon to run. The thrill of the chase. His jobs of late had been to target victims who had no reason to know they were in danger. Strickland was a thrill. A cry of war in the blood. Michael scratched his eyebrow.

Chameleon was a smart man in an instinctual manner. But in real intelligence, here was a man with an IQ that probably never saw the high side of retarded. He was the idiot savant of bomb makers. A good reason why he had no remorse and left no impression at the bombing site. That would require a real personality. Chameleon moved in the shadows because he was that brown and lifeless. He knew only his craft, and for him there was nothing else. When it came to the making and setting of bombs, knowing what they would do and how they would do it, Chameleon was the Michelangelo of the blast.

Chameleon smiled sensing Michael’s respect for his craft, and although he had never explained how he did things, suddenly he wanted to do just that. He wanted Michael to know and believe that he was indeed the Chameleon, and he was the greatest bomber the world would ever know. He knew that Michael would never use his trade secrets, because Michael was a savior of the innocents, not a threat to them.

“Almost anything that’ll burn can be made into a bomb,” Chameleon explained. “What a bomb is, is really a very rapid fire with not enough space to go fast enough.”

Michael moved from the wall and took a seat as Max stood and moved away unnoticed. The two men were each other’s captive audiences. “That is the most brilliant explanation I have ever heard of a bomb,” said Michael, allowing admiration to spark in his voice. “Brilliant in its simplicity.”

Chameleon smiled. After a lifetime of silence and lonely regard, he sat up straighter, warming to his subject. “Now there are two basic ways to use one. One is to use it to send something else into the hit, and another is to make the hit part of this very fast burning fire. Now, take a car for instance. Most of these guys who think themselves competent bombers go putting it in the engine. Do you know why?”

“No,” said Michael, though he did know. Anything to keep Chameleon talking. To build a rapport.

“Cause they only know how to hook it up to the ignition and they don’t want anyone to see the wires. Right in the engine they put it and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. You know why it sometimes doesn’t? It doesn’t because there’s a frigging firewall between the driver and the engine and all you get is blowing off some poor guy’s legs.”

“Incompetent.”

Chameleon nodded his agreement. “Yeah.” He knew from Michael’s tone of voice that incompetence was something not nice. “Now the place to put a bomb is under the seat. You use a mechanical device that works on pressure, maybe eighty pounds pressure tops, no more.”

“But who weighs that little?”

“Some guy slides in and you get the torso.”

Michael thought about it. “But some torsos must weigh less, especially women’s.”

“The brake does it. The brake drives the body into the seat, so you’re guaranteed your blast at the first stop.”

“Brilliant,” said Michael. “But then why did you use the ignition over five weeks ago on Captain Valenti’s car? In fact you used not only the ignition, but you also wired into the engine with the force of the blast exploding outward and away from the firewall.”

Chameleon laughed. “Well, that’s the importance of being flexible and knowing what is wanted in the blast. Now the Valenti blast was never meant to kill, only to maim, and if it had been Valenti and not his wife, the damage would’ve been more. She’s light, so she was blown clear. Valenti would’ve lost his leg. Maybe both.”

Michael flexed his hands, but remained controlled.

“Now for a car I don’t like to use no material like metal shards, nails, or hand grenade kind of things. I like a clean explosion. Especially in the summer, when the windows are up for air conditioning. The whole car acts like a casing.”

“Brilliant,” said Michael through clenched teeth. Max remained silent, but he was pale beneath his tan.

“The air pressure created is amazing. It’d take off someone even without breaking ‘em up. Just by concussion.” Chameleon’s eyes sparkled as he warmed on his subject. “I could make a bomb out of a pack of cards. A tree? I could take it off exactly where you want it and land it where you want it. You could put a home plate anywhere near that tree and I’d get you a strike.”

“Can you throw a curve?” Michael asked out of curiosity.

“Nah. I can’t do that yet,” said Chameleon, after contemplating what would be needed to take it that far. “But if it was a wet day with some heavy air and if we had a good wind, maybe eighteen to twenty-three miles an hour, and it was kind of a good-shaped tree like a young maple, and you let me put the plate where I wanted, I might be able to get a strike on a curve.”

“So you don’t miss.”

“Not often. Things happen. Mistakes and unforeseen events, like you finding the water bomb.” Chameleon paused. He didn’t know how he knew it was Michael who found the bomb, but he was sure it was. “How did you know about the water?” It was good to find where he went wrong.

“You left the empties.”

Chameleon laughed. Damn! “I missed. My pride is in keeping up until the job is done. No matter how long it takes.”

Michael nodded. “What was your worst failure?”

Chameleon thought about it a moment. “A pickle jar. A jar of Prosco homemade pickles to be exact. I was trying to blow the lid off without breaking the glass jar. Now that is precision.”

Michael was quiet as were Max  and the people behind the glass. Chameleon was more than a masterful bomber. He was a freaking psychotic.

“It would’ve worked, but the fucking Prosco Pickle company subcontracted out their jars to a cheapie manufacturer. Bastards.”

Michael and Max left the room and met in the hall with the others. Chief rubbed his face. “I suppose there’s no question that he is who he says he is?”

“None,” said Michael.

“Okay, see if he can give us Strickland. He seemed to know enough about Strickland to know how to carry out a contract.”

“What do you want us to offer him?” Max asked.

Daniel looked at both Simon and Jim. Damn. “Give me a few. I need to call Jesse Ramirez at the DA’s office and see what kind of deal we can cut for information.”

Sean swore. Watching Chameleon wasn’t an option. Julia was still in danger out there, and that nut job was loyal to the extent of finishing his job. “Sir…”

“Sean, I don’t need to hear your concerns. I know them. Stay the course.” Daniel nodded to Michael and Max. “Ask him what he wants. Give me a line in the sand that I can offer Jesse.”

Michael nodded and went back inside. Chameleon was sitting back smiling.

“So this is the part where you offer me all the goodies I want in exchange for the pit viper that lives in your house.” Chameleon laughed. “I want more. I want a free ticket out of the States. One way.”

Michael and Max shared a look of disbelief. Chameleon smiled seeing the exchange. His smile widened and became as sick as his mind.

“What could I have that could possibly get me this? Easy. I’ve got Pierce. You think you want Strickland, but I’ve got more.” Chameleon moved forward. “I know who Pierce is. I know why he can move in and out amongst you with impunity, and better yet…I know who Pierce’s secret identity is.” Chameleon sat back, smiling big. “Call. Make the deal. I want immunity. A one way ticket, the hell out of this hellhole of a town. It’s a little dangerous here for me. Pierce is everywhere. And, oh yeah, I want three million dollars. American.”

~~~

“Impossible!” Jesse Ramirez paced the conference room at the PD. Julia was at the conference table, sitting quietly in a chair. Sean leaned on the table next to her.

Jim Valenti was peculiarly calm as was Simon. Most of the talking was being done by Jessie and the Chief. Daniel was quick to outline their options. The younger generation was strangely quiet as Michael and Max both shared the sill of a window, and Sean kept searching for a cigarette.

“Jesse, I know that what he is asking for is unreal. But the information he has is important. For Crissakes, he has Pierce! Dammit, he’s slithered into our own shop, and inserted ears and eyes. We’ve been fighting this man forever, and we are nowhere near winning.” Daniel paused as Rhonda came into the room to pass Jim a note. Their eyes met, and Rhonda quickly left.

“We found his place. He was truthful in that.” Jim handed the report over to Daniel. Chameleon had given them the location of the den where he built his bombs. “Bomb squad had three injuries from wired traps protecting a stash of C-4 and plastique.”

“Did they find the igniter fuel cells?” Michael asked quietly. Jim shook his head no. Michael swore and sat back closing his eyes. “I’ll go talk to him again and see if I can get him to turn over those materials. That liquid unmixed is inert, but if it mixes…”

Michael didn’t have to finish the statement. They all knew the consequences. More than likely Chameleon had the entire city wired in case he was caught. The man was holding more than information. He was holding the city hostage.

Simon looked at the group of subdued men. Turning his glance towards Julia, the only female in the group, he frowned. “Counselor, what do you think? You’ve been a target for Chameleon from the beginning.” After all, she almost lost her life more than once, and did lose her entire house.

Julia looked up at Sean. “We can’t negotiate with him. It’s terrorism. He holds many cards, but if we deal with him, it would require us setting free a man with a deadly intent, the expertise to fulfill that intent, and the lack of a morality to stem his actions. It would be unconscionable. Despite our personal feelings, ultimately our duty is to protect. To serve and protect. Releasing Chameleon goes against that very principle.” Julia avoided Sean’s eyes as she signed and rubbed her neck. “It’s time to call in the Feds.”

That got everyone’s attention. Sean stood up and Michael did the same. Daniel Travalis paced the room, but Jim remained quiet. Looking up, he stared at Max who hadn’t spoken or moved. Listening to the vocal opposition to Julia’s suggestion, they looked over at the door as Jack Baxter from IA entered the room to join the argument.

“Jack,” said Daniel. “Tell us that you found Strickland!”

Michael looked at IA. “He can’t. Strickland will come in on his own. We don’t need Chameleon. Strickland knows about Pierce too, and once we have Strickland, we have Pierce. Pierce knows that and he will actively work to silence Strickland. Strickland will come to us.”

Jack looked at the men. “Michael is more than likely right. The question is, will Strickland walk in hoping we’ll be able to protect him, or will Pierce get to him first. This Chameleon has what we need now.”

Jim looked at the window, at the man sitting there with his arms crossed to his chest listening to the arguments. “Max, tell us what you think we should do.”

Max and Michael exchanged another silent communication. Max sat up straighter. “There are FBI agents embedded in Parker’s lab. I think two. Topolsky and Stevenson. Call them in. Julia is right. We’ve taken this as far as we can, but now it’s time to consider the bigger consequences. The safety of the city is more important than our needing this collar.” Max looked at his brother. “If Michael is right, Strickland will find us. We can’t be held hostage by a terrorist, nor can we allow this terrorist to hold innocent people hostage either.”

~~~

Chameleon sat back in the chair and stared at the two way mirror. Smiling slightly, he ignored the uniform policeman in the room with him who was his guard. As a mental exercise, he scoped the room and imagined all the ways he could use the available materials in a bomb. That pen, a paperclip, a piece of paper, cigarette, a coin…

He didn’t bother to look at the door when it opened. It would be Detective Guerin. They would want to know what he did to insure his getaway, and how he wired the city to blow in the event of his capture. Yes, Detective Guerin was a problem. He had a sixth sense about him, but even he was fallible. Guerin’s weakness was that he trusted his eyes and what he knew, and didn’t trust his instincts completely. That was how mistakes were made.

It was the blast moving the guard back against the wall that alerted Chameleon that he might have miscalculated. He figured he had at least a few hours before Pierce knew he was in custody, and a chance to have himself removed from the Roswell PD.

“You’re becoming more and more daring,” Chameleon looked up at his visitor. “Even dangerous. I would say that a person such as yourself, one who has remained hidden for so long, is more cautious than this situation would indicate.”

“I am. But...” Pierce came into the room and quickly rearranged the messy table to accommodate a sense of order. “I have come to believe that I am indeed unstoppable. Tell me why I should fear anything or anyone. Tell me, Chameleon, why I should fear you?”

“I take it you removed the guards outside as well.”

Pierce just smiled and studied his dirty fingernails. Hmm. How did that happen?

“I should’ve known. I thought I had longer, that you wouldn’t risk a confrontation in the daytime, in front of a full staff, or even in front of the investigating officers.” Chameleon laughed without humor. “I thought you would be more wary of getting so close to Guerin and exposing yourself.”

“He is a problem. Always has been. He is lucky that I still have a use for him, otherwise I would have taken care of him long ago.”

Chameleon looked at his hands which were free of any weapon. He knew Pierce, and Pierce was standing before him in his other form. His hidden identity. That could only mean one thing. Pierce had no intention of allowing him to go free.

“Before you kill me, tell me why you hired me to kill the ADA Julia McLeod. I’ve observed you long enough to know that you could’ve done it yourself any time you wanted to and in so many ways. Hiring me seemed unnecessary.”

Pierce smiled again. “It was. Call it vanity. Call it a touch of humor. Having you terrorizing her and being able to observe the pain it caused Sean DeLuca was a little bit of amusement for me. I once had Sean DeLuca in my power, my grasp. I could have had him killed then, however it was too easy. The man likes pain. I wanted to teach him what it is.” Pierce laughed and sat on the table facing Chameleon, plucking at his untidy shirt, wrinkled from wear. “I wanted him to squirm like a worm on the hook, and watch him go overboard in protecting her until she felt it stifling her more than the actual threat itself. Sean DeLuca has been a thorn in my side for a very long time. Unlike Guerin, he serves no purpose, and were it not for his charming humor and how that tends to amuse me, I would have happily taken him long ago and taught him to fear pain.” Pierce leaned in, liking the spark of fear in the other man’s eyes. “After all, we all can be conditioned, can we not?”

“What are you? I watched you change! You are not of this world.”

“No. I am not of this world. I am of a better one. One that celebrates power, greed and lust. One that does not have this prickling useless sense of morality biting at one’s brain like ants biting all along your skin. One that knows that death is merely a means to an end.” Picking up a pen and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, unbeknownst to Chameleon, Pierce altered the pen’s molecular composition as he watched Chameleon sweat. Laughter rang through the room as the altered pen was jabbed into Chameleon’s right eye, immediately puncturing his brain.

Pierce left the room, still laughing, as the person he had been slowly melded into the scenery as the interrogation room he had left behind exploded into a fiery inferno from the pen, which had been altered into plastique.

Amateur.

~~~

“This is incredible! You should’ve called us in sooner.” Special Agent Stevenson paced the room, his anger and condescension obvious in every line of his back. He was a diminutive man, one that Maria would have associated with a dictator, or at minimum, a person with a short man’s complex. “You have Chameleon!”

Michael let his sarcasm free as it dripped from every word. “Oh yeah, we have him. Strange that you, embedded in our Department for how long, had not a clue.”

Stevenson started to make a comment about Michael’s sarcasm and suggest to the Captains that they didn’t need unimportant foot soldiers present, when the building shook from the massive force of an explosion. There was a moment of silence, as all the inhabitants of the room slowly found their feet again.

“What the hell was that?!” Jim’s voice bellowed across the bullpen. The room was a mess. The glass doors and the window surrounding the bullpen had exploded out, with a barrage of glass covering everything and everyone in sight. Jim could hear the sound of fire, that swooshing sound of oxygen being sucked into a feeding beast.

Michael quickly crossed to his desk to pull Zeke off the floor and check him out for injuries. The young man had been waiting at Michael’s desk eating his private candy stash when the bomb went off.

“Max! Chameleon!”

Sean, Max and Michael headed towards interrogation with Zeke at their heels. Sirens were sounding in the air, made loud by the absence of windows, and the sprinkler system came on dousing the rooms with water. Max pulled Michael back from the interrogation rooms in the rear, which were engulfed in flames. People were moving all around them as the building was once again being evacuated for the second time in weeks.

“Rhonda!” Daniel quickly picked her off the floor beside her desk. Her face was covered in a peppering of blood from tiny cuts. Her desk was the closest to the main glass door of Major Crimes. Swearing, Daniel noticed a large shard of glass in her leg and the unstaunched bleeding. He couldn’t cover it and add pressure with the glass still in it. Quickly picking her up in his arms, he ordered the people around him to help those wounded to evacuate, as his legs ate up the distance to the stairs.

They stood outside looking up at the building with billowing black smoke coming out of the windows. Michael felt a jostle at his side opposite where he held Zeke upright. Liz Parker. She was holding up her assistant Serena.

Max quickly took Serena’s weight from Liz’s smaller body. “You okay, Liz?”

Michael noticed that of all of them, Liz was the cleanest and least scathed. It figured. She was at all times tidy and in place. It was the blood on her face and hands that told a different story, that and a slightly wild look in her eyes as she looked around her in agitation.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was in my office. A damn book fell on my head. That was pretty much it. My office is in shambles, but nothing compared to my labs! Almost all the glass was shattered.” Liz turned dark, uncontrolled, angry eyes on Michael and Max. “There is a fucking hell lot of glass in my labs! Everything gone. Physical evidence we were processing, contaminated. Tests lost. Files gone. Equipment destroyed. I can’t even think of the cost and the man hours it will take to inventory the loss and replace the equipment.”

The men let her rant. Liz Parker was usually a quiet little thing, barely making a sound, but in this she was very vocal. Her nice organized area was a mess, and it offended her basic nature.

“You know, I can’t remember the last time I felt normal! My throat sliced. My home almost bombed, FBI agents hounding me, and now my offices and professional life in shambles. What the hell does normal feel like anyway?”

Max and Michael looked at the woman and both shrugged at the same time in a gesture so identical it made Liz laugh in amazement.

“God! I am insane. I’m asking you two about normal! Crazy! Absolutely insane. If either of  you have ever been normal, I would eat Isabel’s cooking.”

“Normal is highly overrated,” Michael suggested, since his life was highly unique.

“What’s so great about normal anyway?” observed Max.

~~~

Jackie looked up from her charts as Michael entered the ER. Groaning, she cursed under her breath. Sure. Great. Another day in Guerin hell. Wasn’t like her ER was already filled to capacity with people from the Police Department. Add in her normal load, and somehow seeing Michael enter with Max and Sean on his heels was enough to make her rethink her career options. Dammit, she could’ve been a pediatrician. But no! Guerin and his motley crew would have found her. They would have found a way to sire aliens or something.

Jackie went to make a comment but stopped when she noticed the young man Michael was helping. He looked familiar. Oh yes. The loft fire. Jackie made a clicking noise under her breath as she accepted another person like Guerin to her slate. Obviously this young man was somehow to close to the Guerin fallout circumference, and he would literally be the next generation of problems. Giving up, she motioned to Michael to bring young Zeke into a side treatment room.

“So are you close to Guerin?” asked Jackie as she did a quick physical assessment of Zeke. He was claiming a dislocated shoulder, but Jackie was sure it was a break. Marking a sheet for X-Ray, she looked up from her notes.

“Yeah, guess you could say that he’s the closest thing I have to a big brother or father. Michael and Maria sort of sponsored me with the courts so I could leave foster care and become emancipated, but essentially they took over the foster care duties.”

“Damn,” Jackie said under her breath, “guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

~~~

Michael paced the waiting room where Jackie had him exiled while she took care of Zeke. His agitation was increasing with every moment that passed as he practiced telling Maria about Zeke’s injuries. Looking up at a sound that both Max and Sean made, Michael was shocked to see Alex, covered in dirt and blood standing in the doorway.

Michael and Alex’s eyes met and Michael blow the air out of his mouth loudly.

“Nasedo?”

Alex nodded.

~~~

Maria stood in the doorway to the guest room staring at the sleeping Zeke. He had two breaks in his left arm, and the cast was high on his elbow. He was sleeping. They had given him medication for the pain, and he had taken his first dose before they left the ER.

Michael’s arm came around Maria, and he pulled her back against him.

“He’ll be okay.” He waited for her to get on to him about not being trustworthy with Zeke’s care. Maria turned in his arms and searched his face.

“Are you okay? I heard about the bombing, but I could feel you, feel your anger, so I knew you were all right.”

“I’m fine. Got knocked on my ass, but otherwise unscathed.” Michael framed her face with his hands, his thumbs moving over her cheekbones. “I’m sorry I didn’t take better care of him.”

Maria looked at the sleeping Zeke. “You did fine. He’s a strong boy. This won’t be the first time he’ll find trouble. I’m glad you were there. He needs that.”

Michael reached passed her and pulled the door shut. Turning her to look at him, he pushed the hair behind her ear. “Look at you. Little mother. I can’t believe you were ever worried about having kids, Maria. You’re a natural.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just good at loving people. I guess if I do that, do my best, that despite any real flaws I have, it’ll be okay. My intentions are honorable. Poor things. I still lose my keys and shoes. I forget where I send out the laundry, and in a bind, I order takeout too often.”

“They’ll survive, Maria. Believe me, they’ll be better for having you as a mother.” Michael rubbed his face against her neck, holding her tight. “I need to go back to the PD.” He looked at her softly, “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Did he talk about Margo?”

“No. He didn’t have time. We got a little distracted. I’ll talk to him later when he’s ready. He’ll find me.”

Maria kissed him. “You’re a good dad, Michael.” Michael made a face, but Maria could feel him. The feeling of being pleased hit her. Smiling, she kissed him again.

“Go. Do what you have to do.” Maria said. Michael grabbed his jacket and looked back at her before he left the loft. He couldn’t rest until he knew that Chameleon was gone and not out there somewhere using the bombing as a blind to escape. He never got to tell Maria about Alex, Eddie and Nasedo.