Chapter 1

Alex was looking back on his life. He had taken the train from Tyson's Corner, to the Pentagon. He'd had dinner in Alexandria with a new and an old member of the group. Bianca would meet him later, at the last station in Virginia, and then take him home. She was like he was: inscrutable. He had met her on the plane when he had been recruited from The Island. Had he known then, just how old ... no, young ... she was, he would not have fallen head over heels for her.

The orphanage had signed the papers for him, saying he was eighteen. In reality, he was still fifteen, but he was big for his age. The Marines would make a man out of him. They also made a monster. Five years of training, running, marching, PT and following orders later; Alex had become the model Marine. It was not only the Corps that watched over him. His attention to detail, his ability to listen and understand what was being asked of him, and the lack of any scuttlebutt after his missions; brought him into notice of a very select group.

On paper, he was now twenty-three. One morning he was handed a package, told he had new orders, and told where to report. The place was nearly deserted. It was an old hanger on the far side of one of the airports. Two men approached, verified who he was, and escorted him to an awaiting Blackhawk. Soon, they were leaving the base. Ahead, in the middle of the desert stood an all black Gulfstream business jet. They landed and a ramp was lowered for them to board. One of the men ... a large, burly man ... was well-dressed and had several bulges Alex recognized as a lot more firepower than a regular sidearm. He motioned Alex ahead into a closed cabin. He knocked on the door. It opened and he helped ... actually, he pushed Alex inside.

"Alex Brown, reporting as ordered."

As he stood at attention, the seat turned towards him "At ease, Grunt. Your ours, now. Sit, Alex. It's been a long time!"

He was in a daze. Before him was his dream girl. It had been the first time they had met, but he felt they had known each other for years.

"My name is Bianca. I feel that I know more about you than you know about yourself. You will spend some time at 'Fort Fumble.' Your CO and XO will have you doing a lot of useless stuff while Daddy makes arrangements for your future. This meeting never happened. You will live on base, but now you'll be in the BOQ as a new Second. All new personal items will be in your room. You'll change into new BDUs and shower, here on the plane. You smell. If you can't find the soap, or need help washing; come back and let me know, stud."

Thus began ... and, I thought ... ended my association with Bianca. How wrong I was. Before she left me, she handed me a new package and took the other from my lap. "Give me your dog tags. From now on you're Ryan Smith, ROTC graduate from Colorado Springs. Your parents wanted you to go Air Force and the Academy, but you went to a small local school called San Sebastian. Everything you need; license, school ID, bank accounts, old receipts, movie stubs, etc. are inside. Your Father, Bill, and your Mom, Agnes were killed in a car accident, last year. You have no family, no friends and more importantly no SO ... that is, until now. I shall write you and send you pictures, some very personal. I'd better be the only phone number in that cell phone, when we meet again. We met in high school. I was a freshman, you were a senior, and you fell madly in love with me. You promised to wait for me 'till I graduated, and moved back East to be with you."

"See, I told you, I know more about you than you do. If you ever are in trouble, call this number. Tell them Bianca told you to call. Memorize it, then give it back to me to destroy. Daddy and I hope you are not disappointed with me, but what you will be doing is not something many people can know. For some reason, Daddy trusts me. He seems to want to trust you, too, so suck it up, Marine."

The man from earlier entered, led me in back to another cabin, showed me the shower and held his nose. Before he left me, he smiled. When we landed I was escorted to a car which took me to a bus terminal. I was handed tickets, some cash, a credit card and sent off for Fort Meade to report in to 1st Army HQ for assignment.

So began another phase of my new life; alone, in a new place, and with more secrets to keep than I even knew existed.

I knew one thing ... no, two: I was being treated better than I had ever been treated before, and I would always remember Bianca.

After almost eighteen months since I had arrived, I was being transferred. I reported to the Pentagon. I was assigned as a courier. I was given a desk and a phone, but no computer. I was told to report in each day from 0700 to 0900 each morning. When the phone rang, just follow orders.

As usual, I hurried to work and waited for the phone to ring. Several calls seemed to be errands meant just to get me familiar with my new environment. I learned a lot: where to get coffee, food, cars, mail, snacks, take important soft drinks to waiting Generals, and where the facilities were.

Soon I was the official greeter. I went to the reception desk, checked in visitors, and escorted those without US citizenship to their appointed rounds. My big reward was to get to know, and be known, in the executive garage. When they saw me, they already had a car waiting for me. I drove countless big wigs to their important meetings, mistresses or what not.

A few talked to me, most were silent. I had gotten my TIG rank but to these people even a General was good only for coffee or to fill a chair. The first time I went to draw an armoured car, a Mercedes, the keeper looked at me funny.

He asked, "How Many?"

I gave him a blank look.

"First time, eh?" he asked.

"Yep," I said.

"How many guards will you need, and/or other security? Nothing was indicated."

"Just me, I guess."

He handed me a sidearm, and a UZI Machine pistol with a folding stock.

"Sign here, extra ammo and clips are on the holsters. Be careful, these babies are special, very heavy, very fast and are monitored by eyes in the sky or more. Get used to stopping, starting and if something happens, hit the RED button on the dash, and drive like Hell. Unless it is a tank, even a RPG won't stop these beasts. Your ride must have connections, these cost like $900,000. Don't scratch it."

I followed the directions. I pulled into a very wide circular drive and under a large white portico. The building was only marked by a small sign, saying, Club Entrance. A doorman ran up to me and started to say something. When he got near and saw the stickers on the car he stopped, said he was sorry, and went inside.

When the door opened again, a tall, gray haired man emerged. He waved and my little angel, Bianca followed. She scooted up to him, and kissed his cheek. Then she skipped, like a little girl, to the car door I was opening. She stopped.

"Shotgun!" she yelled out.

I looked at the man who just moved his eyes and gestured with his hand, as though to say, 'What can you do?'

"Home, James! The question is: yours or mine?" she said, then laughed. "That was Daddy," she said. "Today is my birthday, and Daddy says you and the car are mine 'till it's time for the pumpkins to go home. I need to ask, should things get friendly do you have everything we need; or should we stop at a drug store?"

With a smile, she now looked straight ahead, smiling, looking like the cat that ate the canary. I took a deep breath.

"Were to, Miss?" I said and placed my hands on the wheel in the ten-and-two position.

"We're near home. I want to change, then we can go out, so I can show you off. I mean to show you around."

I followed her directions. The car had navigation, but my human GPS knew the roads and a path that cut the hour trip almost in half.

"Come in."

Now was the scary part, just what was I supposed to do? Was this business or meant to be something else. It was not a very hard choice to make. I had fallen for this little minx. If she told me to slit my wrists, I would only ask if the cuts were deep enough. I got out of the car and followed her through the open door. Inside, it was like stepping back two hundred years in time. The house, a former plantation, was fit for a king. A beautiful, lady approached.

"So you are the man that has captured my mistresses heart and soul? Now you will probably want her body, too?"