"One of these days," Jack told Jake as the pair sped away in a car that the other agent had stashed a couple of miles away from the shack which had exploded only a few moments before. "One of these days you are going to go too far and one of us is going to kill you."

Jake laughed. "That's what my mom keeps telling me. But, being the black sheep in the family, I have a reputation to keep. She hates it when I go into deep cover."

"I'll admit that you had me going for a little while. Did you have to hit me so hard?"

"Jack, old buddy, you have a head like a rock. Besides, I had to make it look good to the guy who was outside, standing watch. You'll be glad to know that he's currently out of commission, but not until he reported in to Matthews, so we're in the clear. In a little while, it'll be assumed that I'm not as good with bombs as I said I was, and until some serious forensic pathology is performed, nobody will know that what's left in what's left of the shack isn't us."

"Have you told Marty yet?"

Jake shook his head. "Not yet, but Mom will clear things up for us."

Marty sat quietly at her desk, busily entering data, her mind churning as her stomach did the same, though nobody who didn't know her intimately would ever see her concern. Just then, the phone line buzzed, and she picked it up. "Yes?"

"Marty? Jane Jacks here."

"Lady Jane?"

"Yes! I was in town for the afternoon, and was wondering if you'd care to have lunch with me?? Talk about the good old days."

"I'd love to," Marty smiled, broadly. "Where shall we meet?"

This whole thing was growing more and more complicated as Gilbert continued to investigate the woman he'd known as Victoria, in an effort to understand her contact with his agent, D.B. Saxon. Victoria Powell hadn't existed before a few years ago when she came to San Francisco, and D.B. Saxon was being as elusive as ever. Nobody knew anything about him, and even the publishing company confessed to doing business with him strictly by the written word. Once more, Gil turned back to the information he'd downloaded from her computer, and tried to figure it out.

"Okay, she's been e-mailing HC, CF, SM and DBS, who is D.B.Saxon, who downplayed her dying words. Then, both cabins burned to the ground, and Victoria's body was cremated. Not that Victoria really existed, anyhow. Damn!!"

On impulse, he plugged the phone into the jack on his computer, and, quickly typed a note to D.B. Saxon before he could change his mind. "Why did Angela kill Victoria?" he wrote. "And how is it that you know Victoria?? Must have answers!! Now!! Fear for my life!!" Then, he quickly sent the message, giving what amounted to the equivalent of a post office box which he could access from anywhere in the world via the world wide web as his return address. "Now, D.B., let's see what you want me to believe." Packing his suitcase, he checked out of the motel and headed back out into the night.

Sonny contemplated the move that he was about to make. It was one of those life-changing moments, and no matter what happened tonight, everything would be different, but he didn't see how he could do anything different. He'd bluffed Matthews as long as he dared, but now, Matthews was calling his bluff, and it was time to lay his cards on the table. Trouble was, even if he had the high card, he'd lose on some level. And, what if he was wrong? What if he'd misjudged Jason all along? Was it possible that Jason Morgan was a plant, a ploy by some mastermind to infiltrate his organization and bring him down? Sonny's blood boiled at the thought, but something else was sickened at the thought of what must necessarily follow, if that was, indeed, the case. He thought of his young sidekick, of the young man whom he'd taken in, sheltered, and eventually taught the inner workings of the business.

But, Jason had been brain-damaged, hadn't he? Even Dr. Tony Jones, neurosurgeon at GH had been fooled, if Jason was okay, or was he involved, too? Had Dr. Jones fudged the records to cover for Jason's cover? Idly, Sonny recalled that Dr. Jones' brother, former husband of Felicia Jones, was a WSB agent, and that Frisco trusted Tony. A sickening feeling settled low in the pit of Sonny's stomach as he reflected on the possibilities of his situation. Was Jason disloyal to him? And, if he was, was Robin covering for him? Sonny had to find out quickly.

Picking up his cellular phone, he entered the numbers required to connect him with his second in command. "Jason? We need to talk this evening. No, not this minute-but it's important. At seven. Yeah, here." He disconnected, then, on impulse, dialed another number. "Robin?? No, nothing is seriously wrong, but I think that something is bothering Jason. Can you make it down this evening? I'll have a car for you in about half an hour. Okay." With that, he hung up, his stomach knotted with worry. Then, he placed another call. "I need you to pick up Robin Scorpio in half an hour-at the university dorm. Right. Meet us at the warehouse at Beecher's Corners, but don't tell her where you're going. Tell her that I told you it's a surprise."

Hanging up the telephone, a somber Sonny added to himself, "It'll be a surprise."

Something's going down," Robin told Jason as she hastily put her things together. She spoke into the phone quickly. "Sonny said that something was bothering you, and that he thinks I should talk with you. Right. .........No. That could get a little dicey......yeah, he's a good man to have around in a tight spot..........Got it." After making a couple more calls, she hung up the phone, and went to the closet where she dragged out a box which she'd kept for several years. Opening it, she removed a gun, and a couple of spare clips of ammunition. Good thing she knew how to fire it, she thought. And, it was a good thing that Sonny had no idea that she was very proficient with a gun.

"Mamma said there'd be days like this," Robin mused.

"Interesting," Taggert commented as he hung up the telephone. He strolled out of his office, and around the corner, into a coffee shop to a phone he'd never used before. Seconds later, he was talking with his boss. "The baby bird may be in trouble, so I'm taking precautions. No, I don't know, but it's possible....Okay...yeah? Okay, I'll do that. Right. Later."

"What do you mean you had a photo session this afternoon?" the phony Tom Hardy asked of Angela who stood preening in front of a mirror in a luxury suite of the Port Charles Hotel. "Are you insane?"

Eyes glittering dangerously, Angela answered, "It's the perfect cover. Besides, it won't make any difference. By tonight, Lucy Coe will be history, and so will her ad campaign. The film will be found to be useless, and I'll be sad, but figure that it's fate."

"And what if you're wrong? What if pictures of you get into the wrong hands? What if people who think that you're dead find out that you're really alive? Do you think that will go over very well with you-know-who?"

"I don't give a damn about them, and if you have any sense, you won't either. If they were all that smart, they wouldn't have to creep around in the shadows like some nasty life form. They'd be able to take their rightful places in society and enjoy themselves." She smoothed her hair and added a little blusher to her perfectly sculpted cheeks. "You realize that it's only a matter of time before we take control. They can't live forever....."

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