Once A Wolf Ch. 10

She caught the movement in her peripheral vision as she was stuffing the foam container with the remains of her dinner.KNBS's remote van was setting up right outside the front door. She glanced around the room, idly wondering which one of her fellow diners had dropped the dime on her - and which one of the station's vultures had clawed his way to the top of the carcass? When she saw the immaculately-coiffed, not-a-strand-out-of-place salt-and-pepper hair, she knew. Of course. Hank Charles; Mr. Glib himself. She had seen odd snatches of his occasional network reporting during his days at the network's Chicago station. He had that touch of grey now and was a little farther up the food chain, but nothing else had changed. He still came across with the same practiced, polished, plastic pizzazz.

She was cleaning up the last few scraps when she saw them make their move for the door. She wasn't worried so much about the newspeople as the army of lab technicians that would swarm every inch of the place in the Newsies' wake. Got everything that touched your hands or mouth, Honey? That includes the milk shake glass and spoon. Saliva contains DNA. She wasn't willing to leave eventhatmuch for the bastards at Aberdeen. She would have to take her chances on the epithelials. She was out the back door in a flash and in theRSX.She made the one-block dash to the on-ramp of the Five Freeway before anyone saw the car. She would double back before they had a chance to block off the ramps.

She was surprised – pleasantly so - the Media had gotten to her first. She would have expected the first response to be the nearest SWAT team. Their orders would be to capture if possible, butcontain her,regardless the cost, until reinforcements arrived – alotof reinforcements. That would have been ugly. Under no circumstances would she surrender willingly. People would have died; probably, a lot of people.Collateral Damage.But they would have taken her eventually, through sheer weight of numbers.

If she ever were to be captured, there would be no trial. At whatever agency's leisure, she would quietly 'disappear' – and drop off the radar forever. They would make up whatever excuse suited them, or none at all. She guessed everyone had been caught flat-footed; they thought her dead in the planet's explosion. Better shehaddied, rather than living the rest of her life as a hunted animal. If she were ever to know peace of mind again, Giselle Du Mont would have to disappeartonight.

Of course, it didn't have to be this way; any of it. She did haveAurora. It was, without a doubt, the most ultimate 'ultimate weapon' the planet had ever seen. With it, she could write her own ticket anywhere. Is that what she really wanted to do? If she used it that way, how would she be any different than the despised Arcturans?Baby steps, Giselle, she decided.Deal with the larger issues when you have the luxury of time.

She would have to find a new place to live, of course. She was surprised Special Ops wasn't crawling all overthis apartment already. Due to her own misguided admission days earlier, she was certain they were tearing L.A. apart, looking for it. She packed only the essentials - that which would fit in theRSX in a single load. She would stay at the 'Hotel Aurora' until she could arrange another apartment under a different identity. The accommodations would be a little Spartan, at first, but the price was right – and it offered a helluva view.

She sent the final e-mail – to the private address he had given her - before removing the hard drive from the desktop computer and leaving the apartment forever. At least, shehopedit was a private address. She sincerely wanted it to behim that received it, not one of the legions of oh-so-well-intentioned handlers, filters, and other toadies she knew to permeate his life. He would know soon enough she had returned. She was certain every news organization on Earth was already interrupting normal broadcasting with the "breaking news".

There was so much shewantedto say, free at last from all restrictions and prying eyes. Now, she wasn't sure sheshould. She had no idea howhefelt, now that the magnitude of all these revelations had sunk in. Above all else, she wanted him to protect himself, regardless the cost to them – toher.In the end, she restricted herself to one anguished plea she thought he would understand.

Just tell me you don't hate me. That's all I ask.

*****

For the past three days, the Honorable Adam Sampson, Senior Senator from Colorado, had sat at the desk in his private study, stunned senseless. Theonlysurprise in all of this had been that Mike –Giselle– had been alive all these years. Everything else had been in keeping with the character of the soldier Adam Sampson had known so briefly, but whose influence now touched every living thing on Earth. An engineer? A Ranger? Aninja? A guinea pig in a super-secret DOD weapons development program? He had even sacrificed his, his... oh, God! And nowthis.... How much more did one person have to give for his country, race, and PLANET?

The newly-appointed Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee opened his desk drawer and withdrew a thick folder he had received from Swifty Pike. Until the blonde warrior's final, earth-shaking oral admission, neither man had been aware of their common link. The Senator had gotten on the phone immediately to make sure the former generaldid know. The general had sent the file in response. The Senator had also placed calls to three fellow former aviators and five Native American Army veterans, all of whom he had kept in touch with through the years. He had one more call pending – and hoped the Palace would take it.

Adam now re-read the contents of the folder. It was all there; a drunken soldier/technocrat's amazing story of dedication and service, beginning with a forty-three-year-old summer camp 'confessional'. Swifty Pike had twisted a lot of arms in Washington, Illinois, and Japan to verify the details. Then, everyone on Earth had witnessed the 'confirmation' with their own eyes on television, although many were still grappling with the ramifications of what they had seen. Giselle Du Mont had been so single-minded in purpose, she had manipulated Time itself and her own previous incarnations to achieve the end that had to be.An entire lifetime dedicated to one, desperate roll of the dice - for stakes NO ONE could have conceived! Senator Adam Sampson suddenly felt old – and very, very small.

This bullshit about her being some kind of freak or monster was going tostop! Ifanyonedeserved the label "patriot", it was her.Tomorrow morning, he would go to the Senate and open a very public hearing. After all, that is what committee chairmendid,didn't they? He could think of at least one retired general, five ex-Rangers and his own former crew who would jump at the chance to testify at last. Through them, he would tell the whole fucking world a story, all of it, a lifetime in the making. With a little luck, he would add the testimony of a soon-to-be King to that list of testimony. Knowing her as he now did, he was certain there would be others who would come forward. The Congressional Medal of Honor waschickenfeedcompared to what she deserved, but by God, they weregoingto give it to her this time or they wereallgonna get a complete set of lumps!

*****

Epilog

Anoush Hagopyan was a sable-eyed brunette beauty from Glendale. She worked as a checker at theAlbertson's supermarket on Glen Oaks Boulevard. For the past year, Anoush had been on a mission. She had worked as many hours as Lysa, her manager, would schedule her for. At last, it was "mission accomplished". She had paid thirty-five hundred bucks for her pretty new titties and was ecstatic with the full, firm, bouncy D's. Now, she was ready to 'try them out'.

The stunning Armenian girl and her girlfriends went toBurbank Bar and Grill out of curiosity. It wasn't the kind of place they usually went.BBG was anAnglobar and, until now, the two cultures mixed like oil and water. But there was an air of giddiness here and all over the world, a shared perception ofeveryonehaving dodged a great big bullet. Everything seemed possible now. In addition, all of Burbank and Glendale were abuzz over the startling re-appearance, then disappearance, of Giselle Du Mont only a few days before at, of all places,Fuddruckers – just up the street fromBBG.

That ithad been Giselle was beyond a doubt. The news people from Channel 4 had missed her by moments, but someone in the restaurant had snapped her picture with his camera phone. She was dressed in that telling "I Run With The Big Dogs" T-shirt, sitting in the Elvis booth, just leaning back with her eyes closed.Thatimage had been plastered all over every channel – and must have earned its authora mint. Damn the bitch! She spent a week in Hell, then just shows up, lookingflawless! How do Tranniesdo it?

The walk-up bar was crowded and alive with gossip, as had been the streets below. The group found a table on the patio, drank, danced a bit, and just soaked in the energy of the place. Anoush was getting a ton of stares, too. The knit bandeau top she wore showcased her new titties, smooth belly and navel ring. Her girlfriends had chided her good-naturedly about being so "shameless", but it wasn't anythingtheyhadn't done or wouldn't do again. She liked the attention.

She saw him then; her whole group did. He was about six feet tall, with movie-star good looks, sandy blonde hair, and chocolate-brown eyes. He looked like helived in a health club. Talk abouthard bodies!He wasn't bulky, like Arnold Schwarzenegger. This guy was just really, reallyripped. They kind of followed him with their eyes as he made his way –slinked– across the patio. Anoush remembered watching a panther at the Griffith Park Zoo. It had moved exactly the same way; fluid, focused, powerful. He didn't notice them – or anyone. He just sat, alone, gazing off over the rooftops towards the Verdugo Hills.

Anoush didn't realize she was on her feet until she was nearly at his side. She hadn't even heard the sharp rebukes from her companions. Even with his back to her, this guy had drawn her like a magnet. Now he looked up at her inquiringly. She couldn't think of a thing to say. It was like her mouth was glued shut. God, those eyes! She just wanted to crawl inside them and get lost. He slowly smiled, revealing the most perfect dimples she had ever seen. This man justhadto be in The Business! There was something wrong with the eyes, though. There was an oddly sad quality to them, like a distantly-remembered pain.

"Hi Anoush. It's really nice to see you again."

She was completely floored.

"H-how do you know my name?"

He smiled bemusedly.

"I shop at your store. I go through you line all the time."

The girl shook her head in disbelief. Thatcouldn't be. She would have rememberedhimif she had seen himanywhere. She struggled desperately for something witty to say.

"So, is this your night to play Lone Ranger, or what?"

He chuckled at that.

"No, that was last week. The more I think about it, the more I know I reallydon'twant to be alone right now. Would you do me the honor of joining me?"

He actuallystood up and held her chair for her. She couldn't accept the invitation fast enough. He caught the eye of the waitress, who hurried over. He murmured his order; she smiled and hurried off. They made idle small talk while they waited. He sat with his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, staring dreamily into her eyes, a kind of half-smile on his sensual lips. He wasn't trying to put the moves on her. He just seemed genuinely into her company. Wouldn't you know it? He was a real gentleman. He hadn't stared at her boobs evenonce!A part of her was more than a little miffed.

The waitress returned shortly with a bartender. He carried the iced bucket. She carried two chilled flutes.Champagne! This guy impressed her more and more. As the server showed him the label, Anoush read over his shoulder and smiled. Taittinger had been flying off the shelves at the store since Giselle and Geoffrey's romantic moonlight dinner. This wasn't the blended stuff, either. It was the real deal; '92Blanc de Blanc. She knew the restaurants and bars were now charging more for this thanDom. On top of everything else, this guy wasloaded. She raised her glass.

"What shall we drink to?"

His forehead furrowed.

"I dunno. What do you suggest?"

"Here's... to Life."

He smiled at that; a rich, genuine smile.

"Yeah, I like that. To Life – and the infinite possibilities it offers."

They clinked their flutes together and drank. She drank in the sight of him, as well. This gorgeous guy with the perfect body, dimpled smile and little-boy-lost eyes was making her heart melt. The wine, the moment, and the nearness of him emboldened the determined Armenian.

"You have me at a disadvantage. I'm already embarrassed I don't remember you from the store. I don't even know your name."

He blushed and held out his hand.

"I'm sorry. Mike Jones."

She giggled as they shook hands. Now sheknewhe was in The Business.

"MikeJones, huh? Is that your stage name?"

She instantly regretted her words. His smile vanished. He stiffened as though he had been punched. The pain in his eyes was palpable. Anoush was afraid she had somehow just blown it. Then the moment passed. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, just a bit.

"You could say that."