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. I
don'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?" She whispers.
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!"
~*~
WSB Headquarters
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.
"Morgan."
"Jacks, here."
"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.