Chapter 1

The man woke up and looked around to get his bearings. Where am I, he asked himself. The place looked ... strange. It was as if he woke up in some kind of cartoon. What is this place, he wondered. He considered the strange landscape, which looked to be some kind of weird desert. He looked up and saw two large moons in the sky. That can’t be right, he thought.

But there was another, larger question in his mind. Who am I?

He leaned against a large outcropping of purple rock and tried to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t remember anything at all – who he was, or what he was doing here. He had no frame of reference to go by and there was nothing in this strange landscape to give him any direction.

After several minutes, he heard a strange noise behind him. Turning, he looked to see several very large winged creatures flying in the air toward him. On their backs sat ... something. He had a hard time making out what they were. As they came closer, he noticed they looked like large dark green humanoids with heads that reminded him of frogs.

He inched himself around the purple rock, hoping they wouldn’t see him. He watched as the large creatures they rode flapped their giant wings. As they got closer, he took in their shape. They reminded him of pterodactyls for some reason. They had long beaks and a single curved horn coming out of their heads.

The frog-men sat in saddles on the backs of the flying creatures, and seemed to control them like horses, with reins attached to the necks of the flying monsters. The frog-man in the lead pointed in his direction and shouted something. The next thing he knew, blobs of green ... something ... was heading his way. Damn, he thought. They’re shooting at me. But why?

He instinctively took cover behind the rock and his hand went to his waist. It was a reflex action, but it was a wasted effort as he had nothing there. He watched as the green blobs flew by him, hitting the orange “dirt” around him. He looked around, frantic, trying to find better cover. But there was nothing in sight, and he knew he would never make it in the open.

He heard the creatures get closer and saw more green blobs fly past him. He knew that unless something happened, he would probably be a dead man very soon. Then he heard something else – something that sent chills up and down his spine. It was a very loud screeching sound, followed by screams and cries. Suddenly, the green blobs quit flying past him. Taking a chance, he looked and saw another very large flying creature.

This one, unlike the others, was white and wore armor. On its back was a nearly-nude woman with long voluminous white hair that flowed behind her head almost like a cape. She held a long flaming sword in one hand, which she used to cut the frog-men to pieces, sending them falling to their deaths.

As she sliced and diced the dark green frog-like goblins, her flying “steed” opened its mouth and hurled balls of fire at the the other flying creatures, burning them and their riders to ash in mid-air. The man watched as the aerial battle made its way over his head.

Finally, all the frog-men were dead, and the woman landed her flying creature about 50 yards away from him. He watched as she seemed to whisper something to her giant “bird,” then walk to where one of the green men had fallen.

As he looked, she ran her sword into its body, then twisted it sharply, making sure the thing was dead. She bent down and grabbed its weapon. Putting her sword back in its scabbard, she looked at the man and started walking toward him.

The man couldn’t help but look at the woman as she walked. She was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place her. He took note of her muscular thighs and calves, which rippled with power as she walked. Two pieces of material crossed her otherwise bare torso and she seemed oblivious to the fact that her breasts were fully on display, her nipples hard and erect.

As she drew nearer to him, he saw a metal clasp where the two pieces of material came together between her breasts. On the clasp was the letter “H.” He wondered what it meant. He noticed she kept the frog-man’s weapon in her left hand. He expected her to stop at any moment and shoot him with it.

When she reached him, she looked down at him with no expression on her face, and her blank eyes seemed to glow as though burning with fire. She reached out with her right hand while holding the weapon at her side with her left.

“Come with me if you want to live, John Smith,” she said. John Smith. At least I know my name, the man thought. He took the woman’s hand and even though it appeared to be drawn, like a cartoon, he found it warm, and soft. Like a woman’s hand. She was quite strong and pulled him to his feet with very little effort. But he had more questions.

“Who are you? What is this place? What were those ... things?”

“My name is Houstonia,” she said. “I am the Queen Protector of Urhart. The creatures you refer to are green corpuscles. They know you are here, John Smith. And more are on the way. Enough questions. We must leave here and return to my fortress where you will be safe. Do you know how to shoot?”

“I think so,” the man said. She handed him the weapon she took off one of the corpuscles. “I’ve never seen anything like this, though.”

“It’s easy. Press this button. That takes it off safe. Then press the trigger. With your training, you can’t miss. Put it on safe and place it in your belt. Come now, we must go,” she commanded. Training, he asked himself. What training? He didn’t remember going through any training. He made sure the weapon was safe and put it in his belt as she directed, then followed her back to her winged creature.

He watched as she deftly climbed on the creature’s back. Then she turned to him.

“Get on, sit behind me.” Once again, he followed her direction. After he seated himself, she took his hands and placed them directly on her bare breasts. He found them to be soft, warm and firm. Much like ... who, exactly? “Hold on tight, John Smith,” she said. “Do not let go. You will be safe here with me.”

He watched the creature unfold its wings as Houstonia grabbed the reins. He held his breath as the giant bird took flight, but kept a firm grip on her breasts.

...

Houston sat in a chair next to the bed where her husband, John Smith, lay, tubes in his arms. Tears ran down her face as she looked at him. He was unconscious, but every so often, his body would twitch and jerk. The doctors still had no idea what had happened to him. This was supposed to be the best hospital in London, with some of the best medical experts in the UK. So, why couldn’t they figure out what was wrong with him?

She had already sent a report to her boss, Regis, also known as Alpha One, the head of Alpha Sector. He responded by telling her he was on his way. That was just over 24 hours ago. She expected him to show up any minute. She heard the door to the small room open and turned, hoping it was Alpha One.

Instead, it was Roisin Callahan, the lead agent in the joint MI5/MI6 task force she and John were assigned to as part of an exchange agreement between the US and the UK. Houston and Roisin had butted heads almost from the moment they met. Angry and frustrated by what she felt was the lack of response to her husband’s condition, Houston flew out of her chair and pinned Roisin to the wall, her arm against the Irishwoman’s throat.

“YOU!” she bellowed. “You’ve been busting our chops ever since we got here. I swear to God, if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll rip your heart out with my bare hands and feed it to the dogs. You understand me, BITCH?”

Shocked by the ferocity of Houston’s outburst, the blonde woman considered the face of the angry woman before responding. She could have easily handled Houston, she thought, but decided to let her vent her anger. She shook her head instead.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband,” she said quietly. “But I assure you I had nothing to do with this.” Just then, the door opened and Regis stepped inside. Seeing him there calmed Houston a bit and she backed off, letting Roisin breathe.

“Is there a problem here?” Regis asked, the brow over his one good eye furrowed.

“No, boss,” Houston said. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Regis nodded his head and looked at Roisin.

“You must be Roisin Callahan,” he said. “I’m Regis Carlisle, head of Alpha Sector. John and Houston work for me. What do you know so far about this attack on my people?”

“We’re still investigating it,” she said. He looked at her, hard.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” he asked. “Especially since you let the assailants get away?” Her expression got hard and she was about to snap back, but Regis beat her to the punch. “Look, Ms. Callahan, I know all about you. I’ve read John and Houston’s reports. I’ve seen your dossier and I know you had it hard growing up in Northern Ireland. I also know about your animosity against Americans. If you don’t feel you’re up to this, just tell me now and I’ll have a word with the ambassador. I understand he and the Home Secretary are good friends. Perhaps they can find someone who’s professional enough to set aside her bigotry to get the job done.”

Roisin understood the meaning of Regis’ statement, and knew it wouldn’t look good on her record to be removed from such an important mission. She took a few deep breaths to calm down before responding.

“That won’t be necessary, sir,” she said quietly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“You’d better,” he said. “Now MOVE!” Roisin nodded her head and looked at Houston.

“That’s the second time you’ve assaulted me since you’ve been here,” she said. “Rest assured, I won’t tolerate a third.”

“I think you and I are going to have a very serious disagreement before this is all said and done,” Houston told her. Roisin nodded her head and left the room.

“How is he doing?” Regis asked, looking at John. Houston shook her head.

“No better,” she said. “I thought this was supposed to be the best hospital in London. They still don’t know what he’s been hit with.”

“Be patient,” he told her. “They’ll figure it out. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s all in the report.”

“I know, but I want to hear about it from you,” he said.

“John and I had been going through all the files they would let him have access to,” she said. “We went through them with a fine-toothed comb. I helped him as much as I could, looking for any connection he might have overlooked. He found a lot of information about someone named Ian McWhorter.”

“Yes, he works in the Home Secretary’s office and he’s part of the Prime Minister’s entourage to Fort Apache,” Regis said. “They’re due to arrive there in the morning sometime.”

“John found several references to someone named Clive Barker. We were told Barker was a nobody, and not to focus on him, but John argued the point. You know how he can be when he gets something in his head.”

“Yeah, I know,” Regis said with a laugh.

“Anyway, he convinced Roisin they needed to talk to him, find out what he knows and what his connection to McWhorter is. After a while, she caved and we headed over to Hackney where he rents a small apartment. We went in, and there were two men with some kind of gun. Roisin and her men were behind us, and they left when they saw the two men. I guess they were looking for cover. John turned and pushed me out, keeping his body between me and the men.” She stopped talking as tears fell down her cheeks.

“Go on,” Regis said.

“He used his body as a shield to protect me,” she said, sobbing. “That would’ve been me in that bed and not him.” Regis comforted her as she cried.

“Anyway, I heard two muffled shots and I heard John cry out. I knew he had been hit, but I didn’t see any blood and he was still on his feet, so I helped him get downstairs. When we got to the bottom of the stairs outside, he collapsed.

“Some of Roisin’s guys had already left the scene, but she stayed behind and called the ambulance,” she said. “They knew we were coming, Regis. Someone tipped them off. And I’ll bet you it was that bitch Roisin.”

“But you don’t know that for a fact, do you?” Regis asked.

“No, not for a fact. But she and her boss have been dogging us like crazy ever since we got here,” she said. “Blocking us at every turn. It’s like they don’t want us to find anything.”

“I know the two of you have been at each other ever since you got here,” he said. “I’m not excusing her actions, mind you, but you should know that she had it rough growing up. And she’s not too fond of Americans. She was engaged to a Naval officer assigned to the Embassy several years ago, but broke it off after she caught him with another woman.”

“So that’s her excuse for hating us? For stonewalling us?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I’m not condoning her actions toward you and John, but that’s what happened. Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” she said. “John is 100 percent convinced this McWhorter guy is having an affair with the new First Lady.”

“Barbara Pierce?” Regis asked.

“Yes,” she said. “He told me, but he hasn’t said anything to anyone else. Not even Roisin.”

“I’d better let the task force at Fort Apache know,” Regis said. “What else has John found?”

“He’s pretty sure McWhorter has been acting as a mule, bringing cash overseas to his contacts outside the government,” she told him. “He hasn’t been able to confirm it yet, but he’s almost certain of it.”

“That is interesting,” Regis said. “Wasn’t McWhorter one of those present at the party Legstrom invited the two of you to attend,” he asked, referring to the late Senator Franklin Legstrom of the great state of Wyoming. Legstrom had been in office for over 30 years and had a reputation as a kingmaker.

The party Regis mentioned was one in which Legstrom set up one of his aides to be humiliated and cuckolded after he had contacted the Task Force and Alpha Sector, concerned that his boss may have been involved in something illegal. After the party, Legstrom was confronted about his and his wife’s activities and given a choice – either resign or be driven out of office in disgrace. He ultimately chose the coward’s way out and committed suicide.

John and Houston were introduced to McWhorter at the party, and they wondered why a sitting Senator would invite someone from the British Home Secretary’s office.

“Yes, he was,” Houston said. “We always wondered why he would have been there. Legstrom gave an excuse, but we never bought it.”

“Hmm,” Regis said. “Alright, I’ll pass that on to the task force as well. Do you want me to arrange transport for you and John back home?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I want to finish this assignment. I also need to find the antidote for John and I can’t do that at home.” Regis regarded her for a bit before responding. He felt more pride in her now than ever before.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Ms. Callahan and her boss. In the meantime, I’ll see what we can do about getting the results of his blood work to our labs. Maybe they can come up with something.”

“Thank you, Regis,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving her a fatherly hug. “You know, John would be proud of you right now.” She smiled as he said that. It meant a lot to her after all they had been through. “I’ll be in touch, Houston,” he added before he left. She sat back down and held her husband’s hand. Then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

“I love you so much, John,” she whispered. “Please, baby, come back to me.” She put her head in her hands and thought back to their arrival in London.

...

They had just received orders to return to London after the case involving Sen. Franklin Legstrom. Upon arrival in Heathrow, they were ferried to the Ham Yard Hotel in Soho, where they put their baggage away. Then they were taken to the Embassy, where they were briefed on the upcoming VIP visit to Fort Apache, home of the HomeFront Security Task Force. According to their brief, both the new U.S. president and the Prime Minister would be briefed by the head of the joint public-private Task Force.

As could be expected, security would be extremely tight for both delegations. The UK had sent an advance party, which consisted of an officer and a non-commissioned officer, both of whom had already been read into the situation. In exchange, the two of them were assigned to work with a task force put together by the Home Secretary’s office.

Their job was to help ferret out whatever information they could that would bring about the complete downfall of MMAS and its European offshoots. The top levels of MMAS, or the “Mutual Marital Assurance Society,” had already been brought down, and the arrest of Legstrom’s wife and others had put a serious crimp in the organization’s ability to pull off another operation. At least, that’s what they had thought at the time.

But there were some loose ends that had not yet been dealt with, primarily because all of the pieces had not yet been put together. Everyone on both sides of the Atlantic was convinced there was a link, but no one was 100 percent certain of who that link was. Security measures put in place by both the US and the UK had so far prevented the two allies from making any measurable progress.

After the fatal heart attack that ended President Skagg’s life, the Vice President, George Pierce, was inaugurated and became president. As part of the transition, he and an entourage of congressional leaders were slated to visit Fort Apache to get briefed on the activities of the Task Force. Because of recent related events that took place in England, the British Prime Minister would also attend, so both allies could be briefed on the situation at the same time.

As far as they knew, very few people knew the full extent of the meeting and no one from the press was allowed to attend, leading many to speculate on the strange joint conference. After the Ambassador filled them in on the nature and reason of their assignment, they were introduced to Roisin Callahan. Houston remembered how that went.

“You must be Roisin Callahan,” John said as she entered the room, pronouncing her name “Row-sheen,” while hoping his time on Google had paid off. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her by mispronouncing her name. He also didn’t want to come across as just another dumb-shit colonial.

“John Smith. This is my wife, Houston. Pleasure to meet you,” he added with an extended hand. Roisin ignored his offer of a handshake and gave a noncommittal grunt as she regarded both John and Houston.

“We’d better get going,” she said. “Car is this way.” They picked up their briefcases and followed her out to the dark blue vehicle that sat in the parking space. John saw a man was waiting for them in the driver’s seat. As they approached, the hood opened.

“Car?” John asked. “Why don’t we just walk on over to your office? It’s just right over there, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, but we’re not working from there,” Roisin said. “Go ahead and put your cases in the boot.” John and Houston put their briefcases in the trunk and closed it. They got in the car and headed out. Roisin turned in her seat and regarded the two of them in the back. She shook her head in disgust.

“What’s the matter?” John asked.

“We sent you two of our best and what do we get in return? Feckin’ Ken and Barbie,” Roisin said with a snort. “You think I’m supposed to be impressed because you can pronounce my name correct without having to be told?”

“If you’re offended because I can pronounce your name properly, I’ll be sure never to do it again,” John said. “What would you prefer I call you? Bitch?” The driver snickered at that. Roisin glared at him.

“Wind yer neck in, Derek,” she told the man behind the wheel before turning back to John and Houston. John figured that was her way of telling the driver to shut the hell up. “Roisin is fine,” she said.

“I don’t know,” John said. “Personally, I like ‘Bitch’ better. Seems to suit you. Don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, looking at Houston, who chuckled.

“Whatever. I hope you understand the seriousness of this case,” Roisin said as she turned to them in the back. “The last thing I want to see is a story about the two of you in the tabloids.”

“This isn’t our first rodeo,” John said. “We know what we’re doing.”

“We’ll see. Speaking of rodeo, I hope you two left your six-guns back on the ranch. You do know we have laws here about carrying firearms,” she said.

“We’re well aware of your gun laws,” John said. “And for the record, I prefer to carry a Glock.” She snorted and turned back to face the front. “You have a problem with Americans or something, Ms. Callahan?” The driver of the car snickered at that. She turned around to face them both.

“I don’t have a problem with Yanks,” she said derisively. “As long as they stay on their side of the Atlantic.” She turned back around and looked out the window as they drove down what their hosts called a ‘motorway.’ To them, it was a freeway. John looked at Houston and shook his head. This was going to be a long assignment, he thought to himself.

When they got to their destination, the driver stopped the car and popped the trunk. Roisin got something out of the glove box as John and Houston got out of the car. After getting out of the car, Roisin deliberately shoulder-checked Houston, nearly knocking her over.

“What the fuck is your problem, bitch?” Houston yelled, getting everyone’s attention. She saw Roisin reach into her jacket for something and prepared herself. They were all shocked when Roisin turned with a semiautomatic pistol in her hand.

Houston reacted faster than anyone imagined, slapping Roisin’s wrist with one hand while taking the pistol with the other. For a second, she held it at Roisin’s face, then ejected the magazine. Keeping her eyes on Roisin, she disassembled the pistol, dropping the pieces on the ground as she went.

Roisin looked at her disassembled weapon on the ground, then back at Houston. Then a slight smile crept across her face.

“I guess the rumors I’ve heard about you are true,” she said.

“What rumors?” Houston asked.

“That Houston Smith may look like a tart, but she has the temper of an Irishwoman. And the claws to match. Would you please be so kind as to reassemble my weapon?”

“Your weapon, your responsibility,” Houston said. “It’s not my fault you can’t hold on to your own gun.”

“Are you two quite finished with your playground games?” a man’s voice asked from the front door of the building.

“Quite finished, sir,” Roisin said as she picked up the pieces of her pistol, reassembling it as she went. John and Houston grabbed their briefcases and the four of them made their way inside. When they got inside, the man who called out to them extended his hand to John.