Chapter 5

Summer Friedel was not all that irritated when her personal secretary, Ben, interrupted her at yet another cocktail party. As the Director of the Naked in School Program, she was in demand at any function at all related to the party or its fund-raising activities. She was the darling of the powerful social activist segment of the party. That was good for her ego, but the unending stream of invitations sometimes wore her down.

She was going through one of her standard sequences that had become almost rote to her. This one was the 'dowager, wedding night virgin' script. The woman had just asked the 'doesn't that take away the thrill of mutual discovery' question when Ben grasped her elbow. That was the signal for immediate attention needed. She did her emergency disengagement apology, slipped her arm through Ben's and left as quickly as she could while maintaining a stately walk and a smiling, nodding demeanor. Sometimes, she wondered when her face would break.

As usual, Ben had rented a suite at the hotel, even though Summer lived less than twenty miles away. It allowed her to stay very late, if that proved advantageous, or to entertain a particularly important supporter away from the crowd. On more than one occasion, Ben had been sent off to her home while she did more than business entertaining. Otherwise, he occupied the second bedroom of the suite.

In the suite, she was greeted by a grim-faced Anthony Ramirez, her head of the enforcement division. "There is a potentially troublesome broadcast going on right now. Do you want to see it live, or should we replay the stream from the beginning?"

"Let's see it all," Summer answered. She sat as he entered a few commands on the laptop that was hooked to the room's TV. When Porter's intro came on, she said "This doesn't sound like anything unusual. We get ... oh!" At that moment the view switched to show all four naked bodies. From that point on, Summer was silent and intent.

She was silent until Merton spoke up, that is. "Oh, shit! How did we end up with that asshole defending us. The kids will fry him." When the number of stations carrying the broadcast was mentioned, she jumped to her feet and yelled "Dammit, Anthony, were you sleeping when all this happened?"

"As near as we can tell, it was all put together in less than eight hours," he answered, long inured to her outbursts. "We found out about an hour ago, although we had no idea of the scope of the audience. I have a team en route, but they will barely reach the site by the end of the broadcast."

"Oh, that makes me feel a LOT better," Summer said sarcastically. "Why bother?"

"I instructed the team to bring the kids here," Anthony explained.

"Oh. That will fix everything, I'm sure," she said without dropping the sarcasm. "Uh, remind me how that will help."

"First, it will keep them away from the press. Perhaps we can, uh, re-orient their thinking."

"You mean pay them off? From what I hear, I don't think that will work. How will you get them to come here?"

"We aren't going to ask them," was his curt reply.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" she yelled. "Do you know how much shit that could bring down on us?"

"Listen on and decide which kind of shit you would rather deal with," he said tersely.

"That fuckin' website!" she screamed when Molly mentioned it. "Why have we not been able to shut it down?"

"You know how the Web has been protected," he answered. "Well, mostly, it's stuff we want protected, but once in a while ... We've been to court several times, you know. So far, we have not detected anything on the site that is false. We have not been able to show cause."

"Then use the other option," she spat out. "Just make sure no one can hit it, and we'll settle with Justice later. Damn! All of this work and some hick town jock and his nerdy girlfriend put it all at risk!"

"We, uh, have already tried shutting the site down or making it inaccessible. Someone very, very good is in there ahead of us. It's ... well, basically, it's everywhere. Pop-ups are starting already, pointing people to it."

"OK, a bunch of scared kids and grieving parents can't do that sort of thing. Who's behind it?"

"Until tonight, it was just as you described," he told her. "Now, there are a few possibilities."

"Jason fucking Pritchard! I'll bet anything. This is just his style."

After she finished dressing, Porter just stood and watched Molly and Curt walk away. It was hard not to be envious of their beautiful young bodies, and she had the fleeting though that when you looked like they did, it was a disservice to wear clothes.

The teens walked over to where a woman and a man stood together. Was the woman a mother of one of them? The man looked like - DAMN! If that really was Jason Pritchard, no wonder she had been manipulated so skillfully. But why was he involved with these two kids?

After dressing lightly and very quickly, the teens and the woman had a hurried conversation with the man - Pritchard? - and headed out of the stadium. Now more than a little curious, Porter followed the trio. Staying just far enough behind to avoid being noticed, Porter peeked around a corner when she heard a man address the three. After some sharp words by the woman and a very brief scuffle, Porter watched in astonishment as the three were cuffed and led away.

"What the hell are we doing?" Tracy Marx hissed at the other members of the team as the woman and the two teens were led toward the van. "Where did you get that gun? We can't just take these people!" Tracy had joined this enforcement team only days ago, and had been bewildered when they were ordered on the short, hurried flight to Hooverton. In the plane, they had watched the beginning of the broadcast just before landing, and they had huddled over a laptop to watch the stream as they raced across the town in the van that was waiting for them.

The broadcast itself had left her bewildered and upset. Why had it been allowed on the air? How could anyone let the kids say those things about the program? Why had that damned website not been shut down long ago?

Tracy had joined the hastily assembled staff of the Program when national rollout had been announced a little over two years ago. She had been fascinated by accounts of the pilot schools and had found herself wishing that she was younger so she could experience it herself. In the two week training class, they had approximated the Program as much as possible by having some attendees naked each day. It was extremely embarrassing to go through the reasonable requests and the pre-class relief, but the training staff insisted on it. Some applicants actually dropped out at that point.

It really had been more humiliating than anything. After all, none of them were tight-bodied teens any more. A great many of them had living partners, and it was even harder on them. Nevertheless, they had all emerged from training enthusiastic about the benefits the Program would bring to the teens.

Tracy had spent the last two years at two different high schools as an on-site compliance officer. Deciding what was or was not reasonable and helping to strip reluctant, sometimes terrified kids had become quite routine. Apparently she had done her job well, because she had been invited to move to enforcement.

'Enforcement' was perhaps a misnomer, and the 'Commando' label that had somehow been given them was completely ridiculous. Their main tasks were to subdue elements that were abusing the Program, and to settle grievances against the Program. Those grievances were often heart-rending, but that website still should not have been allowed.

Still, what Tracy's team members were doing was all wrong. They had no authority to arrest people! The woman was right. And where did Margaux get that gun. Usually, two members of the team carried stunners, but that was a real handgun. What was going on?

Tracy was a true believer in the Program, but she was also a by-the-book person. Suddenly, she was faced with a career-critical decision. Hurrying to Bradley (never Brad), the team leader, she grabbed his arm and told him "We can't do this! We don't have the authority! This could be big trouble!"

"Just get them in the van and don't worry about it," Bradley answered back. "This came from National. They'll take care of the legal side."

That was not good enough for Tracy. As she had dealt with weeping, frightened youngsters for the past two years, and sometimes belligerent, angry ones, she had been strengthened by the knowledge that she was following the law, scrupulously. Now, she was being told to step beyond what she knew to be legal and right.

Making a snap decision, Tracy held back from approaching the van, waiting until the others had passed her. While they were intent on getting the captives into the van, she ducked behind another vehicle and used it for cover to move away from the others. Once far enough away, she dashed around the corner of the small stadium, out of sight of the entrance and all of the activity there. Well, strangely, there was no activity except for the 'arrest' of the teens and the woman.

Once hidden behind some shrubbery, Tracy stopped to think about what she had done. Why had she reacted that way? Why had she not just followed orders? In just her few days on the team, she had sensed an arrogance, an attitude that the rules did not apply to them. That kind of thinking bothered her. She had been appalled at what was said on the broadcast, and it should never have been allowed on the air, but there was nothing illegal about it, was there? What was her team going to do with their 'captives', anyway?

Her team? After this, there was little chance of her remaining on the team. There was little chance of her even keeping a job with the Program, actually. She had just made a split-second career choice, and the thought chilled her. But she could not be a part of something so blatantly wrong.

Gwen let up with the protests as they were led toward the van. Jason had explained what might happen, that the arriving enforcement team might try to take the kids. He had assured her, and she had believed him, that he had everything covered and that no harm would come to them.

Although she believed Jason and trusted him, she was not going to stand by and watch Curt disappear. Besides her concern for her son, she had developed amazingly strong feelings for Molly in just a couple of days, as well. On the spot, she had formulated her plan, and it had worked. She would be with Curt. Whether or not she could do anything to increase his safety or speed his release, she did not know, but her mother's heart was more at ease. Even in the 'dire' situation, she could not avoid a chuckle at having pulled one over on Jason.

As they approached the van, Bradley asked "Where's Marx?" The team all stopped and looked around fruitlessly. When no one saw her, Bradley swore and ordered them into the van. "We haven't got time to look for her. Just get in."

The three captives had been cuffed in front of their bodies, which made riding in a vehicle much easier. They were squeezed into the center seat of the full-sized van, with team members in front and behind them. Molly was in the middle.

They had not even driven a mile when Molly's phone rang. It was an ultra-thin, and she had it in the pocket of her shorts. One of the two men in the back seat lunged forward and began feeling around Molly's shorts, trying to find the pocket. She let out a shriek and tried to push the man's hands away. Almost simultaneously, Gwen and Curt brought their cuffed hands up to pummel the man's face. Curt landed a solid blow, drawing blood from the guy's nose.

Margaux was in the front passenger seat. Just as the other man in the back got a choke hold around Curt's neck, she swung around with the gun pointed at Molly. "Give me the phone!" she snapped.

"Sure," Molly said with icy calm. "As soon as your goon let's go of Curt. Why didn't you just ask first instead of pawing at me?" She got the still-ringing phone out of her pocket and handed it to Margaux, who quickly shut it off.

The man in the back with the wounded nose was cursing and Bradley ordered him to shut up while he got on his phone. There was a brief conversation, then Bradley muttered "Shit! The plane has a mechanical. We can't fly out tonight." Gwen tried to stifle her sigh of relief that Jason had succeeded in preventing the kids from being flown out of town. She hoped that the van was as well covered as he had promised. Somehow, she was certain that it would be.

Bradley had hardly said those words when the van began running very roughly, shaking noticeably. "What the hell!?" Bradley swore. They were right at the entrance to a motel and he swung in. "See if you can get us a suite or two connecting rooms," he ordered Margaux. "I've got to call headquarters. What a damned fuck-up!" The man who had appeared so polished and polite at the stadium was now talking like a street thug."

Porter desperately wished that she had a camera as she watched the little confrontation outside the stadium, then saw the teens and the woman led to the van. She also saw one woman, a team member, break away from the others and move behind some vehicles. Struggling not to miss anything, Porter tried desperately to keep track of both the group going to the van and the woman alone. She had a feeling that the lone woman could be important and useful.

With all of the activity inside the stadium, Porter had a brief thought that there should have been people moving in and out constantly. Still, there was no one but the group getting into the van, the 'escaped' team member, and herself. As the van pulled away, Porter moved along the fence that surrounded the field, heading toward where she had seen the woman go.

When she got around the corner of the fence, Porter saw no sign of anyone. Stopping, she called out "I know you are out there. I am the reporter that did the show. I would like to talk to you, and I promise not to tell anyone about you. I think you need to trust me. I'm going to my car - it's the only convertible out there. Please! Meet me there before other people come out."

Sure enough. Porter had started the car and decided to wait exactly one minute when a young woman got in the passenger seat and ducked down out of sight. "Let's go. Please!" the woman begged.

When the broadcast ended, Eleanor was a shambles. She had clung to Bert in desperation through the entire half hour, sniffling or sobbing outright much of the time. He in turn had watched in total fascination. His arm was around his mother, and he probably stroked her back or her arm unconsciously, but he could not have recalled it.

When the next program came on, Bert moved to get out of the bed and turn off the TV. Eleanor gave out a whimper and squeezed him like a life preserver. Looking over to see Win already drifting off, Bert whispered "You know I can't stay here with you, Mom."

"But ... I don't want to be alone!"

"Dad is supposed to be the one to hold you and comfort you."

"He ... he ... just look at him!" she said, so loudly that Bert feared it would wake his father. Bert felt surprising sympathy for her. He had come to the conclusion that she truly had been doing what she thought was best for her children. She may have been nothing but a sheep with no discernment, but that was not really her fault, either.

Molly's reaction, and then his, were completely unexpected by their mother, and doubly disastrous because they came in response to what she thought was a great personal triumph. He himself had attacked her more viciously than she probably deserved. For the times that he had reveled in her distress, he was starting to feel badly.

Wise Erma had made one point that stuck with him. "Just think how badly you miss your sister," she had said. "Then multiply that several times and you will know how a mother feels when she has lost the love of her child. It is even worse when the mother has driven the child away. As if that is not bad enough, she drove her away while thinking she was doing something good. That's where your mother is right now."

Despite his growing sympathy, there was no way he was joining her with his father still in the bed. No matter that it would only be comforting. He just would not do it. With a kiss on a red, swollen eye, he got up, turned off the TV, and left.

In his own suite, Bert first thought of talking to Molly. Her phone rang, but there was no answer. Ringing stopped after six, and there was no voice mail. He wondered how that could happen, but did not ponder it for long.

He next tried the TV, gave that up, tried the Net, and could not get interested in that. Even seeing his sister and the news babe naked had not really aroused him, but he could think of no other way to relieve the tension that he knew would prevent any hope of sleep. The shower had always been his preferred jerk off place. Something about the warm, flowing water just enhanced the touch of his hands.

By the time he got out, it was midnight, but his tension level hardly seemed to have eased. He tried Molly again, but got the quick signal that the subscriber was offline. Knowing that it was a terrible imposition, he headed for the housekeepers' apartment and knocked rather tentatively. He knew they had both watched Molly, and he hoped they might still be awake.

"Not your average soccer mom, is she?" Paul asked Jason. Paul was his chief of staff and a bona fide miracle worker. He had been teasing Jason about how Gwen had managed to get taken with her son. Jason was more amused than angry. Impressed, too. Gwen did not seem the least awed by anything about Jason, and he found that refreshing.

"The plane taken care of?" Jason asked. At Paul's nod, he added "And the van?"

"Of course. Al (Jason's head of security) hasn't had this much fun in years," Paul said with a chuckle. "And didn't Carmen (head of intelligence) outdo herself?"

"I get so used to it, I have to remind myself just how remarkable my team is," Jason said thoughtfully. "I'm still worried that they may find another way to leave town."

"Ned (chief of police) has three patrols on standby, waiting to trail and intercept. We've killed the phones at the motel, and our jammers are pretty effective. If they can't call out, they can't work out another escape. Still want to aim for first light?"

"Yeah," Jason replied. "It's a long enough time to prove intent and I don't want it going down at a busy traffic time."

It was an edgy, somewhat surly NIS team that herded their captives into one of two connecting rooms of the motel. There were no suites available, adding one more irritant. Now, the door to the second room would have to be watched.

The man who had groped for Molly's phone was nursing a very painful nose, and Bradley's shoulder was very sore from being slammed to the pavement by Curt. Rather than worrying about Tracy, they were upset with her for presumably abandoning the mission.

Members of the enforcement division were chosen more for their level of belief in the cause than for their expertise in typical enforcement activities. Not only had they been called upon to do something outside of their experience and their responsibility, but nothing had gone according to even the sketchy plan that they did have. All in all, the entire team wished that they were somewhere else.

As for Molly, Gwen, and Curt, exhaustion was setting in. Molly, in particular, was showing the signs of tremendous stress. Both Gwen and Curt noticed it, and Curt started to talk to his mother about it. She shook her head strongly, indicating that he should not talk, and he nodded agreement.

Through hand signals, Molly was directed to the bathroom first. Either by some unsuspected flash of courtesy or just because it was her turn, Margaux had the first watch in their room. That made it easier for the women to use the bathroom with the door open, as Margaux demanded.