The Harem of Jason Morgan
V pops the door open to the secret room. It's not a very large room at all. In fact, with V and the two trussed up WSB agents in the room was downright cramped.
"Hmmm, still out cold eh? I don't THINK so!", V prods one of them, none to gently with her foot, "C'mon boys, you'll have to do better than that! I know exactly how much tranq you got and I know EXACTLY when you'd wake up.", V lets out a unamused laugh and grabs one of them by his hair, "Aren't you even a little curious with whom you're dealing? Hmmm? How 'bout it Munson? Aren't you at all curious? Or do you recognize my voice and maybe you're to scared to look into my eyes hmmm?" V sneers.
The man who'd set the bomb opens his eyes and sees V's smiling face, only he doesn't see the radiant bubbly smiling V Port Charles knows. No. V's eyes are hard, cold even, devoid of all compassion and warmth and that smile's more of a smirk. Agent Munson swallows hard knowing it's payback time. Of all people, V's NOT the one he wanted to face. Thinking back to V's early days in the Bureau and his poor treatment of her, Munson shudders. Back then he'd treated her abominably. When she'd turned down his advances he'd taken great pleasure in making her life a living hell, sometimes getting too rough in hand to hand training, tripping her making her look like a klutz, generally making her look incompetent. Only problem was that his actions had spurred her on to become the best there was, above reproach. She turned the situation around and became legend at the bureau for her "klutzy" routine which she'd perfected and turned into a lethal martial art when needed. "I'm a dead man" he thinks. "Hey Babe, been a long time. Can't say it's nice to see you", he croaks out.
V gives a low chuckle, "Same old Munsie. But guess what, it's not just me, *Babe*, wait till you see who's waiting outside this door." Over her shoulder she calls out, "Okay guys, let's move them out of here. Is there somewhere secluded and off premises we can take them?"
V lets go of Munson's hair, turns on her heel and strides out of the room. Johnny goes in and gets the prisoners to their feet and escorts them out. V motions to Dara to turn around and take a look at the men.
Dara recognizes Munson immediately. Her face registers her dislike for this man in no uncertain terms. "Well, well, well. Who do we have here, V? Could it really be Macho Munson all trussed up and shaking in his boots? Who'd have ever thought that a mere woman got the better of him eh?"
Upon seeing V's partner, Munson returns Dara's contemptuous stare. Yet, his false bravado is wasted on Dara, who like V, has no love for the Agent whatsoever. Still staring Munson down, a smirk begins to cross Dara's face as she realizes that Munson is slowly registering the fact that he's about to be at the mercy of not one, but TWO women whose lives he made a living hell every chance he got. As if reading his mind, Dara offers up a chilling smile, then replies, "That's right, baby. Your ass is grass." She pauses. "And guess who's the lawnmower?"
"Yeah Munson, anyone ever tell you that paybacks are bitch?" With that last comment V turns to Johnny, "Get them out of here, Johnny, the others can't know or see anything about this."
Just then the front door opens, "Know about what?" Brenda asks "Oh!" Brenda stops short when she sees the two agents from the night before. Walking past Munson to the other agent, she takes his chin in her hand and turns his head to the side. Looking at the bruise on the man's cheek, Brenda giggles, "Wow! Did I do that? It looks like it would really hurt."
"You little bi..."
V cuts him off before he could say anything else "Hey buddy, you're in NO position to get cocky. I'm already more than a little ticked off and you're not helping your case any with comments like that. Brenda, great job last night, but now I need you to keep this quiet okay? Not a word. If you have to talk about it while we're gone-- talk to Carly, she knows all about it but no one else, you got it?"
Brenda nods, "You've my word, V. So, do you think you'll have some time later to teach me a little more?"
V smiles at her, "Sure thing"
Carly comes over to the group "Listen you guys, if you want to get out of here without the others finding out you better go now, before anyone else comes popping in unannounced." Carly shoots Brenda a pointed look which Brenda returns with a sarcastic smirk and a shrug. "Brenda, what DO you want?"
"Oh, well, I just came over here to see what's for breakfast. All we've got 'cross the hall is Fruit Loops."
V and Dara crack up while Carly just rolls her eyes and leads Brenda to the kitchen.
Jason turns to Mike, "Listen, do me a favor, keep an eye on things here? You know where the room is now. Do you need V to show you how to work the computer or the cameras?"
"No Jase, you guys go on now. I'll handle things here. No way will I let anything happen to my godson."
Jason nods once, "Okay let's move."
A short time later they arrive at the docks. Johnny and V cover Munson while Jason and Dara prod his partner into a nearby warehouse. Jason leads the way to the office. Once there, V shoves Munson toward a chair, "Have a seat." Munson catches his balance and just looks at her defiantly.
V let's out a sigh, "Why do you want to make this difficult for yourself, huh? Oh well, I guess I expected nothing less from Macho Munson." V walks over to him and holds up her thumb and index finger, "Munson...I can reduce you to jello with these two fingers, do I have to prove it to you or are you going to cooperate?" He stares straight ahead not acknowledging V at all. V just shakes her head and reaches out, taking Munson's hand in hers, "Last chance big boy?" Munson clenches his jaw even tighter. "Fine, have it your way." and with that V finds a certain nerve located in the webbing between the thumb and the forefinger of Munson's hand and pinches it. Within seconds the man is on his knees. "Will you sit in the chair?" Munson, face contorted in a grimace of pain nods and V lets go of his hand. Munson sits in the chair and at a signal from V, Johnny cuffs the man's hands behind him.
Dara leans in to the other agent and whispers, "She's going a lot easier on him than I would. Too bad you don't have the same luxury your partner does, You have ME to contend with" Dara takes a step back and turns to Jason, "Jason, is there another place we can take our friend here? No sense in wasting time." she raises her voice a little so that Munson and his partner could both hear, "V and I have a bet on who can get the info we need first. And I hate to lose, I really do." Unseen by either prisoner, Dara gives V a wink and a smile. Up until that wink, Jason was unsure what to make of the new Dara and V but with that wink it all became clear, this was divide and conquer with a little bad cop/worse cop mixed in.
Jason shoves the man toward the office door, "You heard the lady...let's go". As they're walking out the door, Dara turns around, "Hey Munson! Looks like you finally got V's undivided attention!", she laughs as she shuts the door behind her.
V turns her attention back to the job at hand. "I'm gonna give you one chance to do this easy-- okay? I just want to know just a couple of things. First, who ordered the mission?"
"V, you should know better than that, I'm not gonna tell you a thing." Munson forces a bored tone to his voice.
"Wrong answer! And yes, I figured you wouldn't say anything but unlike you, I have ethics and I gave you an honest chance. By not taking advantage of it, you've no one but yourself to blame for anything that happens now. "I want to know who sent you!" *Thwack!* In the blink of an eye V backhands him with enough force to snap his head back and to one side.
"Damn, I never saw it coming!" he thinks.
"Who was it, Munson?"
"A little love tap like that won't get you anywhere, V." He responds chidingly still in his teaching mode.
*sigh* "I suppose you're right. I guess I'll just have to get you where it'd hurt you most."
"Oh yeah? and where might that be, V? huh?"
"Well now, you're only fair at best in hand to hand, you couldn't find your way around a computer if your life depended on it...the one thing you have left that allows you to keep your job is your ability to build some really great bombs not as good as mine, I admit but still great. Nice steady hands, limber fingers...what a shame it'd be to have your fingers broken beyond all hope of regaining full dexterity eh? Johnny? Why don't you start with his left thumb."
"Sure thing, V" Johnny takes hold of Munson's hand and looks to V for the signal to begin. V nods. *snap* Munson screams.
"Well? Do you believe I'm serious now? Remember *Babe*, I don't like you. I've NO qualms about causing pain and strife and ending your career as a bomber is just a bonus, now... WHO SENT YOU?"
Munson gasps and all he can think is that he wants payback. He knew that the information she was seeking would cause her more pain than he's in right now. "Fine V, you win. Go get Dara, I'll tell you everything you want to know." V's taken aback and suspicious at how easy that was-- too easy. There's no way he should have caved in after only having one finger broken. Not sure what Munson's up to but only one to find out. "Johnny, go get Dara and Mr Morgan." Johnny leave and returns a short time later with Dara, Jason and the other agent who looks more than a little bruised and battered.
"Okay Munson, we're all here. Spill"
Munson started to laugh, "You're not gonna like this-- the bomb was ordered by Connery himself."
V looked at him incredulously, "Connery? No way, that's impossible. Idon't believe you."
"What's the matter, Ardanowski? Are you still so naive and blind that you really believe that Connery has clean hands in all this Moreno crap?"
V turns to Dara to gage her
reaction. What she sees on Dara's face scares her. "You knew didn't you, Dara?"
Dara walks over to V and puts her good arm around her, "V, I didn't know for sure, but I suspected. I found some things out from Moreno before we took him out. Connery was definitely involved in some shady dealings with Moreno, but I was so sure he thought I was dead I didn't think he'd send Mr. Macho over there to take me out."
Munson laughs even harder, "You? YOU! He wasn't after you, Jensen. You're right, everyone thinks you're dead. He wants to take out Morgan. And V, Guess what-- he didn't think twice about the so called innocent lives that would go down with Morgan. So much for your great idol James Connery!"
V just shakes her head. "How could this be? The WSB're supposed to be the good guys!" She thinks. Turning to Jason, "I need to check this out okay? Would you mind if I left you guys to finish up here?"
"Yeah V, no problem. Johnny, take V back to the Penthouse then come back here okay?"
V cuts in "Jason, that's okay. I need some air, I'm just going to walk to Kelly's and I'll catch a cab from there okay?"
Jason takes a hard look at V and sees that she really does need this time by herself. "Sure thing V, but be careful okay? When you're ready to head to the penthouse just call Carly and have her send someone to pick you up"
V just nods and heads out the door.
The Port Charles Hotel
The bellhop steps out of the elevator, whistling a tune as he idly pushes the cart.
Boy, if he was ever to write a book about the stuff that went on this place, he chuckles. Especially the stuff involving the Rich & Shameless, as he likes to call them. He all but busts a gut recalling the conversation he had with the former cleaning lady from the floor he's currently on.
Seems she'd had the arduous task of tidying up the Suite of the Aussie billionaire Jasper "Jax" Jacks after he'd gone on a rampage and thoroughly trashed the place. It made headlines locally and even wound up in some of the national newsrags. Some folks speculated that HE should've been the one in a rubber room, considering the way he acted after his on-again/off-again flame Brenda Barrett dropped outta sight.
As usual, the REAL dirt never made it to the press--but rather, was known by the "low men on the totem pole." According to the cleaning lady, the cause of Mr. Jacks' fury (which resulted in him trashing the room) was a little "home movie" he received. Said movie "starred" Ms. Barrett and an unknown but very fine - according to the cleaning lady - dark-haired gentleman. It seems that in the midst of his jealous rage, Mr. Jacks trashed everything in sight--except for the offending tape which the cleaning lady stumbled upon and promptly sat down to view. No dummy, she quickly realized she could make a pretty penny off selling the tape to various Internet sources, and proceeded to quit on the spot.
Jeez, the bellhop muses. Some folks have ALL the luck! Arriving at his destination, he prepares to rap on the door to the Suite, when he feels a tap on his shoulder.
"I got it, mate," a dark-haired man replies.
"Uh, thanks, but no thanks," he responds. "This is the third time the order has had to be redone. The Head Chef will have my head if this doesn't make it inside, everything intact."
"Well, what the Chef doesn't know won't hurt him, now will it?" the man inquires, producing a crisp c-note. Sensing the bellhop's hesitancy, even in the face of such a generous offer, the man offers up an affable smile. "Look," as he drapes an arm casually about the young man's shoulder, "You're in no danger of losing your job, Pup, believe me." Then as quickly as the smile crossed the dark-haired man's face, it disappears as his voice takes on a menacing tone. "You are, however, in danger of being on the receiving end of MY wrath should you not allow me to gain entry into this Suite." As he talks, the man opens the fold of his worn leather jacket, allowing the bellhop to glimpse the piece holstered to his left shoulder. "We understand each other?" he replies, the comment more of a statement than an inquiry. Continuing to wave the bill before the slightly ashen young man, he intones, "Now why don't you just run along and let me tend to my business, okay?" With trembling hands, the bellhop takes the money then allows his benefactor entry into the Suite of Jasper "Jax" Jacks. Seconds later, he scurries down the hall.
Closing the door behind him, Jerry Jacks munches on a few slices of bacon while quietly surveying the layout of his baby brother's "humble abode." Just as he's about to call an all out for his sibling, a leggy West Indian beauty descends the stairs, tucking her shirt into something that barely passes for a skirt.
"'Ello, dere," she smiles.
"Well, hello to you, too, luv," Jerry grins. "My runt of a little brother wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that smile on your gorgeous face, now would he?"
"You could say dat, m'dear," she teases. "But I like to tink I put a smile on 'is face, too, darlin'!" she laughs.
"Oh, I'm sure you did," Jerry nods, drinking in the sight of the woman. "I'm QUITE sure you did."
"Now don't go giving her all the credit!" a voice protests. Seconds later, a buxom Latin lovely bends the corner, pinning her flowing mane atop her head.
Although he's not considered as one who is easily surprised, Jerry nevertheless finds himself momentarily at a loss for words. His inability to speak continues as he watches Jax descend the stairs - the trademark Jacks grin etched across his handsome face - then proceed to plant kisses on the lips of both women.
"Hey there, Jer," Jax replies absently, still engaging in "farewells" with his guests from the evening before. When done, he turns to face his big brother, then laughs. "Where in the hell are my manners? Ladies, this is my brother, Jerry Jacks. Jerry, meet Sabrina," motioning to the first beauty Jerry laid eyes on, "and Nicole," as he motions to the second.
"Ladies," Jerry smiles, all the while trying to conceal his shock over the complete 180 his baby brother seems to have undergone since they last spoke. "Going somewhere?" as he watches the ladies turn to leave.
"Afraid so," Jax volunteers, the slightest hint of a frown forming at the corners of his mouth, as he escorts the ladies to the door.
"Where to?" Jerry asks.
"We've gotta get back into the City," Nicole replies.
"We have an Armani show at noon, then Versace at five," Sabrina finishes.
"Ah models," Jerry smiles. "Jax DOES have a penchant for them," he snickers. "Nice to see his taste has improved."
Ignoring Jerry's barb, Jax chooses instead to focus his attention on his departing guests. "Nic, Bri it was a pleasure," he smiles.
"Indeed," they reply in unison, returning the smile. "Take care," they call out, exiting the Suite.
"What?" Adjusting his tie, Jax shrugs, in response to the look Jerry gives him as the women leave the room.
"Nothing," Jerry mutters, shaking his head. "And Mum and Da call ME the Equal Opportunity Lover of the family?" he cracks, incredulous. As Jax turns to face him, both men eye each other in silence for a bit then bursting into gales of laughter, hug each other warmly. Ending the embrace, Jerry steps back to take a good look at his baby brother. "I'd ask how the hell are ya, but it seems you're back to the Jasper of old: Captain of Industry by day, Playboy by night, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess you can say I'm back to my old self with a vengeance," he smirks.
"Slow down, Romeo!" Jerry chuckles, patting him on the back. "The world if FULL of women you don't have to try and take your fill of them by the month's end." His laughter subsiding, Jerry turns serious. "Not that I don't like this change, but it seems kinda sudden. Last time I spoke to Mum, she was cursing the name Brenda Barrett something fierce--something to do with the fact you were moving heaven and earth - and spending loads of money - trying to find the mental midget," Jerry snorts. Softening his tone a bit he continues. "In light of your two "friends" from last night, I take it such is no longer the case you're over the Midget Model?" When Jax doesn't so much as wince or arch a brow at Jerry's derisive name for his former flame, Jerry knows the answer to his question is a resounding "yes."
"Brenda is a chapter of my life a FEW chapters, actually," he laughs ruefully, "I'd just as soon not delve into. Wherever she is, I hope she's well." Eyeing Jerry suspiciously, Jax dons his suit coat. "But you didn't come all this way to find out the status of my love life. What's up?"
"I'm here on business."
"J&J Jacks is doing fine," Jax calls out, as he bends the corner.
"Not family business Bureau business."
Jax's briefcase lands on the floor with a thud. "You're back in?"
"Just for a bit," Jerry replies casually. "I'm helping out an old friend. Then it's back to my life as a recluse."
"Okay," Jax nods slowly. "So what brings you to Port Charles? The Bureau headquarters are in London."
"I'm to meet up with my contact here," Jerry replies, then quickly changes gears. "Hey, I didn't wanna get back in the field--I was happy on my houseboat, tending to my Bonsai plants, collecting my samurai swords living in self-imposed exile," he replies, his voice almost wistful. "But my Bureau buddy was obviously saving up the favor I owed him for a rainy day. It was all I could do to get him to tell me I'd be meeting my contact here in Port Charles. And you know how Bureau stuff tends to operate "
"On a need to know basis," Jax finishes.
"Exactly," Jerry nods, silently relieved Jax has bought his story. True, his baby brother seems to be back to his old self, but Jerry decides there's no need to cause him to worry unnecessarily--and that's exactly what Jax will do, he reasons - not to mention that he might actually try and "help out" - should he discover Jerry is in Port Charles to keep tabs on one Jason Morgan.
"Where are you staying?"
"Well, 'til I hook up with my contact, which should be in a few days, I was hoping I could crash here. I tried getting a Suite here, but the place is booked. Hey, if you're worried about me getting in the way of your "nightlife activities"--don't. You won't even know I'm here."
"You're right, I won't." Glancing at his watch, Jax dashes upstairs and returns with a suitcase. "I'm leaving for business overseas. The place is all yours. Just lock up when you're done. I'll make sure and stop downstairs and let the front desk know you're staying here for a few days, okay?" Checking his watch once more, Jax grimaces. "Look, Jer. I'd love to stay and catch up on what's new with you, but my plane will be ready for takeoff in about 20 minutes. I've gotta go." He heads for the door, calling out over his shoulder, "As with all your "missions, "I'm sure it'll be one to remember. Good luck!"
Bureau Director James Connery steps from his car and finds himself in the midst of a throng of reporters.
"Director Connery! Would you care to comment on "
"No comment," he replies, striding swiftly towards the building's entrance, the reporters following suit, still asking (or as the case is, yelling) questions and snapping pictures.
Shaking his head warily, Connery can't believe the press is still hounding him about the info regarding the Bureau's involvement a high-priced prostitution ring; the story broke almost two weeks ago, yet, the press was still on his tail night and day. There are but a few yards more until he's near the doors. He's about to reach for the handle when
"I take it then, Sir, you maintain the Bureau also has "no comment" on the new allegations that it participated in supplying monetary, as well as "other" support to a known drug trafficker on the East Coast in the States--the recently deceased Bobby Moreno?"
Upon mention of Moreno's name, it's all Connery can do to maintain a calm facade. His grip on the door handle is so tight, he swears he could wrench it from its foundation if he tried. Instead, Connery turns to his left, and finds an elegantly dressed and coifed woman - a dead ringer for the actress Ursula Andress - pen poised and ready to take notes. Instantly, he recognizes her as Honey Rider, the ace reporter for London's version of the National Inquirer, The Tattler.
"Honey," Connery nods, smiling, his game face firmly in place.
"Connery," she smiles back. The woman's eyes are alight with mischief as they roam the well-preserved body of the 60-something veteran Agent. "So, where do you stand on the allegations, Sir what position do you take?" she inquires, having abandoned her wicked thoughts, and resumed her role of pesky reporter.
Leaning in until their faces are but inches apart, Connery offers up his trademark roguish grin. "Why, whichever "position" is most pleasing to the woman, of course," he winks. Raising his voice, he then replies loud enough for all present to hear, "Again, no comment. Good day, Everyone," as he enters the building.
Making his way to the elevator, Connery absently massages the back of his neck, the effect of the WSB's latest "dirty little secret" coming to light already beginning to manifest itself as a killer headache. As he waits for the lift to arrive, he whips out his cell phone and dials his secretary.
"Ms. Greenway, this is Connery. Clear my calendar for the remainder of the week. I don't care if I'm scheduled for a private audience with the Queen Mother!" he barks. "Sorry, Lisa," he replies. "Could you just please cancel all my appointments and get the Bureau jet fueled and ready for takeoff by sundown. It's in use? All right, then book me a seat on the first available flight out to the States. My destination? Port Charles, New York."
Late afternoon, Jax's Suite
Having made himself comfortable after his baby brother's departure, Jerry is seated in a plush leather chair, his feet propped up on the nearby end table, hands crossed behind his head.
So far, so good, he surmises. Everything was going perfectly--he'd timed his arrival at Jax's just right. Dare he say his performance was Oscar-worthy? For although over the years Jax had gotten pretty adept at figuring out when Jerry was pulling a fast one on him, Jerry never let on that he had prior knowledge of Jax's plans to go overseas. If all went well, by the time Jax's business was concluded, Jerry would be out of Port Charles and back at his Australian hideaway. And if things regarding the Morgan situation ended up taking a bit longer to get squared away? Well, Jerry knew he could always create a "situation" that would require Jax to remain overseas just a wee bit longer.
Just as Jerry is about to close his eyes and savor a bit of sleep, his cell phone rings. Groaning, he flips the phone open. "Jacks this had better be good!"
"I don't know about "good," but it's important," the voice on the other end replies.
"Connery?" as Jerry bolts upright. "What the hell? I didn't expect to hear from you for at least another two or three days."
"There's been a change in plans, Jerry," Connery replies. The tension in his voice is not lost on Jerry. "Are you near a telly?"
"Yeah," as Jerry reaches for the remote.
"Turn it to one of those 24 hour news channels, like CNN or something."
"What am I looking " Jerry's words trail off as he watches the scene unfolding outside of the Bureau Headquarters. He's half listening to Connery swearing, the remainder of his attention is focused upon the cause of his boss' foul language: A reporter stands outside the building, commenting on the "anonymous tip" given to the New York Times regarding the WSB's connections to Moreno. "When will you be arriving here?" Jerry inquires, knowing Connery has no intention of trying to diffuse the situation from his end in London.
"I'm airborne now. I should be arriving there around nightfall."
"I'm set up at my brother Jasper's place, the Port Charles Hotel. I'll leave word at the front desk you're an expected guest of mine." Connery gives a few more instructions to Jerry, who has already begun laying the groundwork regarding most of them. "Okay, I'll tell them to expect you around eight or nine p.m. tonight." Jerry pauses. "In the meantime "
"I want you to contact Morgan. Let him know we're ready to negotiate and the sooner we can sit down and work out some sort of deal, the better."
"I'm on it," as Jerry clicks off.
The Renegade Penthouse
Dara, Alexis, and Brenda are all seated in the living room, their eyes glued to the tv screen.
"That color really does NOTHING for her," Brenda scowls, referring to the color scheme of the reporter's outfit. "I mean, look at it. Her complexion is too ruddy for her to be wearing something in dark plum."
Alexis shoots Brenda an incredulous look, while Dara shakes her head, trying her best to suppress her laughter at Alexis' reaction to Brenda. "I cannot BELIEVE you sometimes, Brenda!" Alexis marvels. "We're sitting here, watching a story break that has serious ramifications for everyone here in this Penthouse - in short, the WSB is going to be knocking on Jason's door any day now - and all you have to say, is that the reporter's choice of clothing doesn't compliment her complexion?!"
"Cut her some slack, Alexis," Dara chuckles. Both Alexis' and Brenda's heads whip around in unison. "Wait a minute," Alexis replies. "Where's Dara?" as she mockingly narrows her gaze. "You CAN'T be her--you must be a clone. Because the REAL Dara wouldn't agree with, much less DEFEND Brenda--even if her life depended on it."
"All I'm saying is, maybe there's something to be learned from Brenda's somewhat shall we say, "skewered" take on the situation. Think about it. Instead of getting all wound up and focusing on the seriousness of it all - and believe me, no one knows more than I how serious things are about to become - a little levity could be just what we need to keep us all from being wound tighter than a drum, " she shrugs.
"I don't know, Dara," Alexis replies skeptically. "I'm hard-pressed to go for "levity" in light of all the coverage this latest development in the WSB saga is getting."
"But isn't that exactly what you'd WANT?" V inquires, bounding down the stairs. She'd been watching the scene unfold on the stairway, and although she isn't quite as unnerved about it all as Alexis, she IS worried. Yet, she has to admit, perhaps Brenda's outlook on the situation could have its merit. "I mean, think about it," as she takes a seat on the back of the sofa. "Now, granted, with me being the freshman around here, I don't know much about this WSB thingee, but it would seem like the big dogs in this Agency need to not be able to turn a corner without the press breathing down their necks. And with them all but under a nationwide microscope, believe me, they're NOT gonna do anything hair-brained like staging a siege on the Penthouse." V holds her breath for a second, hoping Brenda doesn't spill all about their encounter with the would-be demolition men from a few days earlier.
"So you can relax, Alexis," Brenda yawns. A quick wink of her eye tells V she has no intention letting anything slip. "No Secret Agents are gonna come storming in here, breaking down the door in the middle of the night to attack you." She pauses, smirking. "Then again, some of us have to take it any way we can get it, right, Lex?"
"How DO you tolerate her as a roommate, V?" Alexis inquires, rolling her eyes.
"Well, Ladies," as Dara stands. "I'd love to hang with you a bit longer, but I'm gonna turn in for the night. I'm starting to get that feeling in my gut again--just like I did around the time I first arrived at the Penthouse : it's gonna be a good, long while before I ever get a good night's sleep so I'd best take advantage of it while I can." She pauses, casting a glance at the tv, the reporter still droning on about the Moreno/WSB connection. "Yep," she sighs. "Now that the heat's been turned up under the WSB's butt, things are about to get REALLY interesting around here."
Later that evening, Jason's office
Jason sits at his desk, going over some additional WSB files Dara has compiled for him. Although he's almost positive the latest "skeleton" to tumble out of the WSB's "closet" would serve to garner him their undivided attention, thanks to Dara, he's prepared to rattle their cage a bit more if necessary. Just as Jason closes the folder, the phone rings.
"Look, Jax, I've told you I don't know where Sonny is...."
"JERRY Jacks," comes the terse reply.
"Ahh, the SMART one," Jason smirks. "Well, if you're calling on behalf of your brother " Jason smiles, wondering just how long it will take for Jerry to lose his cool at being strung along.
"I'm calling on behalf of my boss, WSB Director James Connery," Jerry replies, calling upon all of his resolve not to tell Jason exactly what he thinks of him. Keep your cool, mate, he tells himself. It's obvious this guy knows we need him a helluva lot more than he needs us.
"Something wrong with Connery's hands--he doesn't know how to pick up the phone and dial himself?"
Give me STRENGTH, Jerry muses silently. "CONNERY is not calling," as he takes a deep breath, "because he's en route to Port Charles this very moment."
"Is that so?" Jason asks, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet atop the desk. "I was beginning to think I would have to supply the press with another of the Bureau's "dirty little secrets." I'm glad that won't be necessary."
"No. It won't be."
"Good. I think you'll find my terms to be fair--"
"Y-y-y-YOUR TERMS?!" Jerry stammers, incredulous. "Now you listen to me--" Quickly regrouping, Jerry changes gears. "Look, this is something that needs to be discussed face to face," he replies evenly. "The Bureau is ready and willing to meet with you to discuss the ter-" Jerry pauses, unable to make himself verbally acknowledge that Jason indeed is holding the Bureau by the short-hairs--that things will more than likely have to be done on HIS terms. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he's convinced it's an act of God which is allowing him to keep his temper and tongue in check in the face of Jason's arrogance. We'd like to meet with you," Jerry replies tersely, his patience *this* close to being gone.
"Good." Jason pauses, a smile crossing his face as he can all but hear the renowned Agent struggling to reign in his temper. "When your BOSS arrives, have him call me; I don't do business with lackeys. I'll set up a time then." Click.
Jerry stares at the receiver, momentarily unable to believe the sound he just heard was Morgan terminating the call.
"Why that ARROGANT sonofa " as he slams down the receiver.
Spinning around, he picks up a nearby Ming vase, and rears back to pitch it across the room. Yet, somehow, he manages to keep his temper in check, and instead, takes a deep breath, then slowly returns the priceless treasure to its rightful place. Crossing the room, he comes to rest in front of the sliding glass doors which lead to the terrace. He pauses for a moment, then steps out onto the balcony. As he takes in the view, he suddenly remembers Connery's crack about Port Charles not being big enough for both him and Morgan. Initially, Jerry had found the comment funny. But as he gazes at the city below, contemplating the pending meeting between him, Connery, and Morgan, Jerry doesn't find the statement so amusing any more. Jax was right. This WAS going to be a "mission" to remember.