The Spatial Shard
Chapter Six: Optimum Repercussions

She stepped out of her shower feeling somewhat relaxed and wishing she had rethought the aromatherapy. She had wanted to get the dust, dirt and sweat off of her body and out of her hair. She did not have time for sleep and a passing glance in the mirror was all Samantha Vey needed to reacquire her focus.

“This is Vey. Go for network.”

“This is the network.”

“Activate 3-D monitor at my location,” Samantha ordered as she began to dry her hair.

“Select Input Feed,” the synthesized voice requested.

“Locate Brewer and link,” Samantha replied, quickly putting on her robe. While it was reassuring to her to be found attractive, this was neither the time nor the place to boost Brewer’s wide range of deluded fantasies. Samantha shook her head at the fact that Avery had yet to figure out that his shrink was on Vey’s payroll. As if she would allow someone of his rank to seek psychiatric help without her knowledge. But for all of his faults, Avery Brewer could certainly run a lab and manage some of the most difficult brilliant minds she had ever seen. If only she had retained his services before she had hired McEmbree.

“Brewer located. Establishing link.”

Samantha looked up to see Brewer standing behind a number of technicians as they worked on the damaged robot. Samantha quickly grabbed the large remote control.

“Brewer!” she shouted. He jumped and quickly looked around until he saw the very camera Samantha was using.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, approaching the camera.

“Just what is it that you think you are doing?” Knowing the face he saw and the voice he heard could not bode well for him, Avery quickly gestured to one of the technicians.

“Dr. Putzkammer insisted that the robot be brought to the lab before we try to get the hard drive.”

“Oh, did he?” Samantha asked as she entered commands into the remote control device. “Heinrich!” she said in a louder voice.

“Tell that woman I am busy!” a voice called out from in front of the technicians.

Samantha said nothing. She pressed one last button on her control pad and suddenly all of the technicians began to convulse. Samantha released the button and they all fell to the floor. Most of them were still moving, only two were unconscious. Unfortunately for Heinrich Putzkammer, he was still very much conscious. He was, however, in need of a comb or hat, as his brown ponytail had come undone because of the shock.

“Dr. Putzkammer,” Samantha called out again, “do I have your attention now, sir?”

“Ja, ja!” the man said while waving his arm about wildly.

“English, please, doctor,” Samantha replied.

“Yes!” Heinrich said sharply as he rolled over and looked at the camera. She knew he could see her face and she looked as if she was going to wait for him to speak again. “I hear you, Ms. Vey, and you have my undivided attention.”

“Thank you, doctor. Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me why you interrupted my men when they were following my orders.”

“I told you-” another tap of the right button and Heinrich was in pain again. Only this time, no one was touching him so they were not also shocked. The lack of human contact also kept the magnitude of the shock very low. Heinrich fell to his knees and waved his hands, begging for a cessation of the pain.

“I’m sorry, doctor,” Samantha said as she lifted her finger. “There may be something wrong with our connection, but could you please repeat what you were going to do with the robot?”

Heinrich looked around the room. Those that would actually look him in the eye did so without judgment. The only looks he could decipher for sure were those that were surprised he had been with Optimum Horizons as long as he had. But of course, that brought other things to his mind. Things Samantha had been good enough, up to this point, not to mention. How his experiments in Mechanical Engineering and Robotics had taken a fatal toll. The Mark Seven that lay, nearly destroyed, behind him was not his first foray in trying to create an android. What Putzkammer had considered as elementary was to take a human form and, in pre-defined stages, slowly change out biological systems with technological facsimiles. The three assistants that expired had hardly been volunteers, and therefore their deaths would never be considered accidental in a court of law. But why would he be drawn to destroy his work? That was laughable! Still, the order of the land put him in a very small minority and he had fled. When Vey found him, he was mere minutes ahead of an INTERPOL team that had tracked him down after a lengthy chase through Europe. He was not three hours in her company when he realized he had been saved by a mind that had the vision and means to further his work. But she insisted that he not work with living subjects. The research she had gathered was unlike anything he had ever seen and she was willing to share what she had in exchange for his placement in charge of the development of the android.

The Mark Seven was nearly perfect! It was able to mimic all human body movement and could even apply its speed and strength without losing balance or over-compensating. But there was still something very mechanical about it, and that is what Heinrich wanted to improve. But the gunshots, the burns from explosions and the exposure to acids and electromagnetic fields had all but destroyed Heinrich’s latest advancements.

“Doctor?” Samantha called again. She would not do so a third time, and as much as he wanted to scream, yell and curse her, he was a kept man and there was no arguing with his keeper. Heinrich left his reflections for another time and nodded.

“I will help them in any way you see fit, Ms. Vey,” he said softly.

“Thank you, Dr. Putzkammer,” Samantha said as she directed the camera to get a picture of Brewer. “Avery, proceed.”

“Consider it done,” Brewer said, waving at the technicians to pick up the men who were not conscious. “We should have the hard drive in a few minutes and I’ll run it to the computer lab.”

“Contact me when you arrive at the lab,” Samantha directed, deactivating the monitor before getting a response.

Putzkammer looked at the space where her image had been projected and took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

“I suppose I needed a reminder,” Heinrich said softly.

“And they call you a genius?” Avery asked without looking at Putzkammer. “Man, there are bullets that don’t have the muster to keep going straight if they’re headed for Vey!” The men quickly engaged in their duties and they pulled the Mark Seven apart so that the hard drive could be removed.

“What happened here?” Heinrich inquired in awe of the damage he surveyed. “Did he run into a switch house?”

“Switch house?” Avery repeated as he started to walk away with the hard drive.

“In South America,” Heinrich estimated, “you’d be hard put to find any three power lines that could generate enough of a current to do this sort of damage.”

“You see, you’re not paying attention again,” Brewer explained. “You already know how suicidal it is going up against Vey. Well, McEmbree is a man who has managed to do that very thing and he’s still drawing breath. The man is a shoo-in for the Ninth Wonder of the World!

“Now if you will excuse me,” Avery said as he started for the elevator. “I’m all out of popcorn, but that won’t keep Vey from throwing me in the microwave.”

Heinrich did not watch Avery Brewer for long. There was work to do and some very interesting questions he needed to answer. With the help of the technicians, the Mark Seven was loaded onto a reinforced gurney and taken to its home, its place of birth: Laboratory Seventeen. At least there he had more authority and even if he were about to lose it, Vey would have to go through the security checks and suit up again before she could take it from him.

The lights came on and the plane came to a complete stop. There was a chorus of seat belts disengaging and people pushing to make their way to the overhead compartments. Imogene slowly opened her eyes and was surprised at how she felt.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Wilma asked and Imogene could tell the older woman was smiling which made her smile too.

“And then some,” Imogene answered.

“You will find that if you meditate properly, it can replace the need for sleep.”

“Really?” Imogene was surprised to hear that.

“Yes, ma’am!” Wilma said emphatically. “But it works only for a short period of time. There’s still nothing like a good deep sleep to help the body replenish itself.

“It will start at a two-to-one ratio. For every two hours of sleep you would only need to meditate one hour.”

“You said it starts there,” Imogene said, taking her seat belt apart. “Where are you at?”

“Closer to five to one,” Wilma replied with a bashful smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I promise you I am not,” Wilma smiled. Imogene got up and looked back at her travel companion, silently requesting directions. “The red bag, sweetheart. And thank you so much!”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Imogene said as she reached to get the bag. “This is me saying thank you… for everything!”

“How was it for you?” Wilma asked. “You looked distracted at first.”

“I was,” Imogene replied as she grabbed her carry-on luggage. “I started thinking about my mother.”

“I take it she is the one who taught you your social graces.”

“My what?”

“Your manners, dear,” Wilma explained.

“Oh, yes, that was my Mom. She passed away two years ago.”

“Was she sick for long?” Wilma asked.

“How do you know she was sick?” Imogene asked, quickly taking her seat again.

“You don’t look as if she passed quickly,” Wilma said, patting Imogene’s hand again. “There is a different look to a quick-striking pain.”

“I hope I can get to be half as perceptive as you, Wilma.” Imogene said, thoroughly impressed.

“It’s always good to have a goal,” Wilma said as she stood up. “And for someone who likes Tech, you’re an angel!” Before Imogene could give any word of gratitude, Wilma had moved quickly to embrace her. When they broke the embrace, Wilma merged with the flow of the passengers and was three rows ahead before Imogene knew it.

“Wilma!” Imogene called after her, trying her best to get around people, wondering how Wilma had managed the feat that she could not reproduce. “Wilma!”

Inside the airport she looked around, high and low. She did not see any elderly people, so she decided to just keep her eyes on the lookout for white hair. When she saw long white hair, she broke into a run. She could hear her father calling after her, but she had to find Wilma, even though she did not know why she was so desperate to do so.

“Wilma!” she called out, ignoring the looks she received from passersby. “Wilma,” she said at just above a whisper as her body shuddered. She felt almost like she had when she was getting on the plane: surrounded by her family but hopelessly alone. She looked around once more and suddenly, she stopped, smiling at the thought that broke open inside her mind.

Imogene closed her eyes and searched for that feeling of warmth that had been right next to her for so many hours. Her smile became brighter as she turned to her right and opened her eyes. There she was! She was looking up at the signs directing traffic to different parts of the airport. She looked thoroughly turned around and slightly frustrated. Imogene smiled and shook her head in disbelief.

“Did I really just do that?” she whispered, but Imogene was not about to wait for an answer. Her smile softened to a passive grin and she walked over to Wilma.

“You must be a glutton for punishment, going up again,” she said, taking hold of Wilma’s hand. “I guess you’re not from San Diego.”

“Oh dear, if only I were, I’d be done with all of this.” Wilma looked at the paper in her hand and then looked at the signs again.

“Would you like some help?” Imogene asked as she took hold of the boarding pass.

“I hate to be an imposition,” Wilma huffed, finally releasing the paperwork.

“Wow, you had such a good streak going for a minute there,” Imogene said, arranging the papers in the traveling billfold the courtesy counter had given Wilma. “All this time and not one silly assumption,” she beamed up at Wilma with a bright smile. “I suppose it had to come to an end at some time.”

“Genie!” Timothy said, nearly out of breath from having to run, carry luggage and drag Gordon.

“I’ll say this much for you, child,” Wilma said, looking at Timothy and taking back the billfold, “… you’ve got a gift for timing! I’ll just be on my way.” Wilma took one step and stopped as she looked at Gordon. He did not hold her green eyes long and it was clear to her that he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh my!” Wilma said as she lowered herself to her right knee. “You poor, poor young man!”

“Whatever!” Gordon said as he pulled away from his father and started to walk away.

“Gordon Daniel Schultz!” Timothy snapped as he took a strong grip of his son’s shirt and snatched him back to the very spot where he had been standing. “You can either walk out of this building like a respectful young man, or you can ride out on your way to Sharp Mesa Vista, because it’s clear to me you have lost your mind!”

Wilma’s eyebrows shot up as she looked up at Timothy. “Perhaps I judged you too harshly,” she said as she looked back at Gordon. “She must have been one very special lady, your wife, their mother!” Timothy said nothing as he looked at his daughter. While surprise first registered in his eyes, his face softened and Imogene smiled. “Oh yes, very special! I did misjudge you, young man.

“But what a sorrowful sight you are,” Wilma said looking back to Gordon. “I don’t even know if I can reach you. You’re such a fighter and right now you’re fighting me!” Gordon’s eyes betrayed a number of feelings but as quickly as they changed, he had no time to form a response of any kind. In effect, he was quite paralyzed by the woman’s gaze, her voice and the sentiment which seemed to flow right into his body.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” she continued as Gordon looked at her. “Yes, there it is, you are a fighter! And you have this weight on you that feels like an enemy, but you can’t hit it because you love this weight. I think you call this weight Genie, but I could be wrong. And you can’t hit her, can you? Not again, at any rate. You promised that special lady you’d always look after your big sister.” All three Schultz’s were awestruck as they looked at Wilma. Now Gordon knew how to feel – shocked! His eyes blinked rapidly and Wilma could see the image of the boy’s dying mother as he took an oath she had not asked of him. He was still very angry with his sister for what she had done, but he was so much more infuriated at himself for failing his promise.

Gordon started to speak but Wilma’s soft fingertip touch was faster and she kept his lips still. She smiled at Gordon and slowly moved her hand to touch the side of his face. Her smile brightened when he did not move away. “The weight you hold is your own. Just as you fight yourself, so does the one you’ve sworn to protect. Right or wrong, she’s going to need you so much more than you are ever going to need her.” She touched him softly and patted the top of his head as she stood up.

“As much as it might hurt, I will ask you to remember those blows. The ones you will always wish you could take back. Let them serve as a standard of what you can and cannot fight. And keep your word, young fighter,” Wilma said in a soothing yet reassuring tone. “As for that weight, try to remember that she made promises too. I am sure if you wish to remember, you will.

“Well, Genie, I am off,” Wilma said as she took hold of her shoulder bag. “Aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Imogene laughed as she pointed down one corridor. “Straight down this corridor and make a right. Third concourse on your right.”

Wilma looked sternly at Imogene and shook her head. “You really like Tech, don’t you?”

“And you will too, once you are home.”

“Darling, once I am home… well, let’s just say, you have a point. It has been a pleasure,” Wilma said as she turned and walked away.

“The pleasure was all mine,” Imogene said, smiling brightly.

“Now who’s making assumptions?” Wilma smiled and Imogene laughed. The young girl waved, though she knew the woman was not going to look back. As she made her turn, Wilma seemed to take Imogene’s light with her. As her hand fell back to her side, her smile faded and she swallowed hard before turning to face her men.

“Is there really a need for the long face?” Timothy asked. Gordon pulled away and walked with his head down.

“You tell me,” Imogene answered. Timothy sighed and quickly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his daughter.

“I’m sorry, Genie!” he whispered. “I had no right unloading on you like that.”

“You had every right, Daddy,” Imogene argued as she held on tight to her father. “And you don’t have to apologize. I-”

“Refused to take us to a place you didn’t know,” Timothy interrupted, fighting back his own tears. Wilma’s final words were echoing in his head, and even if Gordon chose not to remember, Timothy had been reliving the moment when assignments and promises were exchanged before his wife passed away.

“You make sure you look after my men, Genie,” Eleanor had said. “Of course, they’re your men now, baby. Just make sure they don’t make stupid man-mistakes. They get that honest, you know.” Imogene had giggled as she embraced her dying mother. As sick as she had been, Eleanor could still make anyone smile.

“I will,” Imogene had promised and suddenly her decision to turn around was clear to Timothy, despite what waited for them at the other end of the road.

“You did what you thought was best and if you’re anything like your mother, you did the right thing. Besides, none of us was wearing a red shirt.”

“Okay, for the last time,” Imogene sighed as she looked up at her father, “it was the guys in the red shirts that died most of the time. You know, red, like blood. So red shirts are already bleeding.”

“Right!” Timothy said, trying to make another mental note. He hoped this one would hold. “You think we should just let your brother walk all the way home?”

“No fair!” Imogene said. “You know he knows the way.”

Samantha walked into the computer lab at three minutes after seven o’clock. It was just starting to get dark outside and the immediate vicinity was clearing out as people went home from their jobs. This was always her favorite time to work. The chances for interruption were remote and her security people were less inhibited in the actions they were allowed to take. On her way to the elevator, she watched as the regular suit-wearing security personnel were slowly replaced by men and women wearing Battle Dress Uniforms along with body armor and assault weaponry. She did not know why, but she never tired of seeing her own private militia running to their posts. But she did not stop to watch. She looked at her watch and looked anxiously at the elevator. One trip to the computer lab and she would be that much closer to reclaiming the Shard. She savored the moment as she hit the call button. The feeling of the device was almost foreign to her, which reminded her of the one who normally hit all of the buttons around the complex.

“I could’ve said that better… or at least differently,” she thought as the doors opened. “I did not give him a choice in the matter,” she thought, remembering the moment and the last orders she gave Makeen. “Death or success!

“Because replacing Makeen is no simple feat,” she whispered as she chose her destination floor. The doors closed and she no longer had sight of the floors, but her thoughts remained with her. Before the elevator stopped, Vey was on her phone and ordering a plane, with an executive package, to land at Vallegrande and await further orders. She was putting her phone away when she entered the lab.

“Alright, people, impress me!” Samantha looked over to where other technicians were standing, as one of them giggled. The other technicians moved to single out one red-headed female as the source of the laughter. “Is there a problem?”

“There is if you want these people to impress you!” the woman shot back, still giggling.

“Are you not part of the team?” Samantha asked as she walked slowly toward the woman.

“I’m only part of the team when it suits them, ma’am,” the woman replied as she removed her glasses and offered her hand. “Princess Akondalatti,” she said. “I’ve been with the company for three days now.”

“Samantha Vey,” Samantha said as she shook hands with the slightly pudgy woman. “I’ve been with the company for… ever.

“You’re Italian,” Samantha declared, noticing her complexion was a little dark to be a natural redhead.

“My second best characteristic,” the woman said, donning her glasses again.

“I like this one!” Samantha thought. “She reminds me of… me!”

“And your best characteristic?” Vey asked as she walked over to the men who were supposed to deliver the report.

“Talent!” Princess claimed.

“An easy to claim to make,” Samantha said with a grin. “Even if you don’t have as much as you think, you still have some measure of talent.”

“Then, allow me to clarify my earlier statement. Speaking comparatively in regards to the people in the room, before you came in, I possess excessive talent!”

“Oh, I really like this one!” Samantha thought.

“Now that is a claim,” Vey admitted. “I suppose we will need to come up with some means for you to prove yourself.”

“The wait won’t be long,” Princess sighed as she sat on one of the lab tables and gestured to her supervisors.

Dr. Patel was the first to come forward, clearing his throat as he opened a file folder. Before he opened it, Samantha could see the folder was very thin. She took in a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. She cut a look over at Avery and he was already looking at the floor. She kept her eyes on him and when he did eventually look up at her, he shrugged his shoulders.

“We were able to recover the data from the hard drive,” Dr. Patel reported. “But I am afraid there has been too much in the way of erosion for us to be able to make anything from it.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” he continued as he walked over to a very large monitor. As he walked over, Samantha looked at Patel’s assistant who was quickly entering commands into the computer. The monitor was suddenly filled with blurry pictures. “We have used the most up-to-date recovery programs we have and this is the best resolution we can create.”

“This is the best you can do?!” Samantha said, looking again at Avery. Despite what it might cost him to be the messenger, Avery liked his chances of living through the ordeal better than Patel’s. The short Hindu-American man was very dignified, always wearing a tie to work. He was usually the first one to arrive and seldom did anyone in his department stay longer at their workstation. But incredible dedication paired with disappointing results would not move Michael Patel to the safe to screw-up category.

“That Binder did more damage than we thought,” Avery added. “It looks like it’s a bust.” Samantha looked at the flooring and then at her shoes.

“Well, well, well,” Samantha said to Princess. “It looks like you need to put your excessive talent where your mouth was only a moment ago.” She then looked at the young woman, giving her a visual cue to go into action.

“Oh, make no mistake, it’s still there!” Princess said in all confidence as she approached the same console where Patel’s assistant was standing. The thin young man looked at Patel, but Vey was the first to react.

“You’re in her way!” Samantha is a raised tone and the young man moved quickly. Princess did a very poor yet genuinely intended curtsy.

“You see, the problem is that if you think the best way to get an answer is to run straight through the problem, you miss so much along the way.”

“Perhaps you can work without the mouth,” Patel said sharply.

“Please, don’t stop,” Samantha said quickly. “I like her thought processes.”

Princess cleared her throat and nodded toward her employer. “As I was saying, the robot did what it was supposed to do, ripping and running through the countryside, bringing down the property values, shooting up everybody with forget-me-not juice and making Jules Verne books look more like a Victoria’s Secret Wish List catalog. It recorded the data and stored it.”

“And the data was corrupted!” Michael Patel quickly pointed out.

“No,” the young woman argued as her fingers flew into action. “A field manipulated by electricity was exposed to more electricity and thusly the data was not necessarily lost, it might have been simply moved around.

“Now mind you, with the type of charge Lost In Space here sucked up, there is cause for alarm, because there are some fields that have been fried. But if you can find the amount of juice that was added to the system, you can track where the information was moved. Now, we know that only twenty-seven percent of the hardware was fried. Talk about well built; that charge could have pushed a bullet train from the UK to France in half the normal time!”

“But…” Michael lowered his head in thought. “You would need something that could be used to give more precise data on the exact magnitude of the charge.”

“Hey, Tonto, this is my time,” Princess barked.

“Mind your time and your place!” Samantha corrected. “You’re here because we think you have talent. He’s here because we know he’s got it. You’re good, but he’s forgotten what you’re trying to learn. You’ve made your point and I trust that Dr. Patel will be more amenable to your input in the very near future.”

“Yes,” Michael said, waving his hand as if acknowledgment of what Vey had said was a minor point. When he acted that way, Samantha usually agreed and so she held her tongue and any potential anger. But she did give a visual cue to Brewer to have the current assistant to Patel removed and replace him with Akondalatti.

“Heinrich,” Michael called into the computer intercom.

“I am busy, Michael,” Heinrich answered quickly. He sounded as if he was working on the Mark Seven as he responded. “Please make it quick.”

“What is the capacitor reading on the secondary power system?” Michael quickly asked. “We’re trying a new information recovery technique. It may help out both our labs in the long run.” A visual picture of Lab Seventeen came up on the big monitor and Heinrich put down the android’s head and looked at the camera. He had the same look Michael held just moments ago and Samantha’s eyes lit up. There was a chance!

“I will scan the capacitor and send the data to you now,” Putzkammer said. “Tell me how your research comes out.”

“Of course I will,” Michael smiled and gave a slight head nod. “And I am sorry for the intrusion. Thank you.”

“You know, once we have the information, this won’t take long,” Princess added, hoping to get Samantha to stay in the lab.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Vey responded with a smile. “I’ve cleared my schedule for this.” Samantha took a seat at one of the consoles slightly removed from the epicenter of activity. She was not computer illiterate, but knowing how to hack email address passwords and what was being done now were hardly comparable feats. Besides, it was one thing she had learned from Hiram that he actually meant to teach her: don’t stand in the way of people who obviously know what they are doing. Twenty-seven minutes later she was called to the big monitor to witness Optimum Horizons’ latest contribution to technological immortality.

There were no moving pictures. Princess’ idea and Patel’s recovery programs were able to produce nearly 15,000 frames but they did not make for movie watching. Princess was very surprised to receive a congratulatory handshake from Michael Patel. But then again, he had never snubbed her as his assistant had. She flashed a smile back at her supervisor and returned the gesture.

“Here we are!” Samantha whispered as the frames from the bazaar appeared on the screen.

“Looks like the Mark Seven got there after the handoff,” Avery said, disappointed.

“This was no handoff,” Samantha said as she looked at the monitor. “Look at all the people. There is no way McEmbree would have planned a handoff with so many potential witnesses. And look at his clothes. The Mark Seven has yet to touch him, so how did he get so disheveled?”

“And who is he talking to?” Avery asked.

“Uh, you guys have the main pics,” Princess said as she continued to type in commands. “I’ve got a few other modes on my screen. To answer Ms. Vey’s question, our mystery guest and our target had to have come in contact with each other. Spectrometer readings on his clothes shows trace of the compound he used to melt the hotel room wall. The same trace is on the smaller figure. I can also tell you that it’s a female and according to the computer analysis of her skeletal structure, she’s a minor!”

“Please, turn around!” Samantha pleaded with the choppy playback. A few frames later, Samantha knew she was not going to get her wish. Her head dropped and she smiled at the irony of it. She could now confirm that McEmbree had indeed lost the Shard. But as to whom he lost it, that was still a mystery. “Why is my good news being rationed?”

“Well, we don’t know if the girl has it,” Avery added.

“We will if she leaves the bazaar in the same direction we marked the power signature traveling a few seconds from the current time stamp,” Samantha reminded Brewer of the information they had already gathered. Three frames later, the exact exit route could not be determined.

“What is wrong with the focus?” Avery was getting frustrated and that somehow pleased Vey. She was glad to know that Brewer was indeed on her team.

“It’s the focus of the lens,” Princess replied. “You got some sort of set up where someone wants to know what the robot was looking at.”

“You have to love how much of a team-player Putzkammer is,” Avery said, kicking a waste bin.

“Wait,” Samantha said as she looked up at the monitor. “Can you drop it?”

“There’s enough data to improvise the rest of the field,” Princess answered without looking up from her keys.

“Use the algorithm in the file Patel 22-Alpha,” Michael directed. Princess quickly grabbed the mouse and three clicks later she beamed another smile at Michael.

“I love a man who comes strapped with his own algorithms!”

“Focus, people,” Samantha directed as she approached the screen. A few minutes passed and the entire frame was brought into focus, but the girl did not turn to face the robot, and the x-ray scan of the back of her skull was not sharp enough to re-create her facial structure. Samantha huffed and smiled.

“I appreciate the effort people,” she said as she turned for the door. “Bonuses are forthcoming. Real good, sharp work!”

“Hold on just one cotton-picking moment,” Avery said as he came up out of his chair. “Go back five frames and clear out the whole shot.” Princess did as she was directed and most eyes were on Avery. Samantha had stopped at the door of the lab but she did not turn around. Her hopes had been lifted and slammed for nearly forty-eight hours and it was beginning to take its toll. “Okay, we don’t see her face, but her hair is up and that skin tone doesn’t look Bolivian to me.”

“Can someone pass out the Duh-Cookies?” Princess muttered and Samantha barely suppressed her snicker.

“Right, laughter. No problemo,” Avery said and Samantha opened the laboratory doors. “Except!”

Samantha’s body responded to the tone, he was one she could count on to walk softly and carry a big stick. She spun on her heels as he took the center of the lab, looking at his employer with a slight smile on his face and his hands on his hips. He looked relieved, delivered.

“That kid to the left of her. The one looking dead at the Mark Seven. He’s awfully non-Bolivian too, isn’t he?” Samantha took three steps back into the lab and looked up at the monitor. “We may lose him over the next few frames, but the last frame where we can see the girl; he’s standing awfully close to her and moving in the same direction.”

“Lock down that face before you move forward,” Samantha ordered.

“Same direction, nothing. She grabs him!” Princess exclaimed.

“Looks like you get another helping of good news after all,” Avery smiled.

“Fine work, Brewer,” Samantha admitted. “You’ve covered yourself for another six or seven screw-ups.”

“I’m going to remind you of that five screw-ups from now,” Brewer replied and they both laughed.

“Facial recognition software has a hit!” Princess reported.

“What?!” Samantha asked, half-surprised.

“Schultz, Gordon Daniel. Twelve years old and living in San Diego, California. The only reason why we got a hit was because of a recent passport application.

“Oh this is too much like TV!” Princess shrieked. “According to this, he is being home schooled. His father, Timothy Christian Schultz, is an architect working on the restoration of landmark buildings.” The young woman beamed very bright smile. “He’s on assignment in Santa Cruz, Bolivia!” A few windows opened up on Princess’ screen and she hit a few keys.

“Check that… he is still on assignment, but according his credit cards and my handy-dandy flight schedule listing, he and his two children landed in San Diego about twenty seven minutes ago. The daughter’s name is Imogene Amanda Schultz.”

“Michael, you know the work-up I’m going to need,” Samantha barked as she turned to leave the lab again. “Avery, assemble a surveillance team. I want to go in soft, people. The key is to keep an eye on her and not let it be known there is an eye at all.”

“Vey,” Avery called to her as he jogged to catch up with her. She could see he was putting his phone away. “Did you send a pick up for Makeen?”

“I did.”

“Well, they must have been pretty close, because they got him. He was in Vallegrande when they landed.”

“Is he… alright?”

“He’s alive,” Avery answered. “But he’s pretty jacked up on rhino tranquilizers.” Avery held up his hands as Samantha was shocked to hear what had been used; an agent powerful enough to kill a human being. “They say that the counter agent has already been administered. Whoever got him took steps to make sure he did not die.”

“McEmbree!” Samantha thought. “I think I will leave you for Makeen to finish.”

“Bring him home,” Samantha ordered as she continued to her office. “And Brewer, make sure he’s restrained.”

“Restrained?”

“Last thing I need right now is a duty-bound, suicidal Security Chief.”

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