by Danny, T5 and Chewy Walrus
The MBL Consulting apartment complex, La Perdita:
Phil Smith sat on the couch, taking a short break from the security upgrades he'd been working on. He looked at the TV, and a report on CNN about something strange happening in Antarctica caught his attention. He sat forward.
"This is a breaking news report. And so it's been confirmed. As of eight o'clock this morning, all communications with any research station in Antarctica have been lost. The cause to this has yet to be determined, and the U.N. is sending a team of investigators to see for themselves. No weather anomalies have been reported. We'll keep you updated as soon as we have any additional information."
"Hmm. Strange," he said. Danny Hearn entered the lounge room and stood leaning against the doorway. "Hey, Danny," Phil said.
"Phil," Danny replied.
"What's up?"
"What have you been up to, Phil?" Danny asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Weird deliveries at all hours for the past few days. You and Grissom hard at work on... something. You going to fill the rest of us in?"
"Just... you know, fixing up the old place. Some security upgrades. You know... stuff."
"Right. Stuff," Danny said. He walked in and sat in an armchair diagonally across from Phil, and leaned forward.
"You've been working pretty closely with Priest, haven't you?" Danny asked.
A knowing look came over Phil's face. "Ah. So that's what this is about."
"Partly."
"He helps out some. Why? Is that a problem?"
"I like you, Phil. I trust you. The same can't be said of him. Just... watch your back."
"Noted," Phil answered.
"I have to go get ready. I'll see you later."
A few minutes later, Danny stood in the old meeting room of the apartment complex, trying to ignore the noise of the construction outside. He'd gathered together Mick Harrison, Marv Velo, and Tobias Christopher, and they sat around the table.
"Okay, Mick and Velo... We'll be catching the six o'clock flight from the La Perdita airstrip to the mainland this evening. There we'll catch a connecting flight to Berlin. Have your bags packed and be ready at five. It's now..." Danny looked up at the clock on the wall. "One fifteen. Be ready in three hours and forty-five minutes. Tobias, I want you to leave for Berlin a half hour after our plane leaves the runway. Take a mobile phone. We'll call you when we arrive, and meet at the hotel Kit's organized."
Danny handed out hotel fliers to each man at the table. "That's where we're staying. Memorize the address. It's our rendezvous point in case of emergency. We all clear?"
The three men all nodded.
"Good. Go pack."
As they got up to leave, Danny tapped Mick on the shoulder.
"Mick... I'd like a word with M'xy at some point."
"Sure. Not a problem."
Phil returned to his work at the computer core. Now that Priest had left, the work on the main building would be going a bit more slowly, but Grissom Montag seemed to have the situation well in hand. Still, the telepath had almost finished his work on the core, and after that had been done, he'd be able to give Grissom a hand overseeing the real construction. All day, he'd only talked to Gabi Riviera and Danny, and he was looking forward to some more contact with someone who didn't speak binary as their primary language.
A knock sounded on the door of the panic room Phil was working in. He turned to see the small-but-muscular frame of Grissom Montag leaning in the door frame. Phil smiled and nodded for his friend to come into the room.
"What say, Griss?" Phil said, gesturing to a chair sitting at the corner of the workstation. "Take a seat."
"Thanks," Griss said, sinking into the chair and propping his feet up on the work area that Phil was occupying. "What you been up to today?"
"Not too much," Phil said. "Just putting the final touches on this computer core. How's the construction going?"
"Not bad," Griss answered, propping his hands back behind his head. "Charley's up there playing like a lesbian in order to try to keep the construction workers off of 'er. Seems to be working so far..." Grissom shot Phil a wink and chuckled a bit. "She's a good worker, that one..."
"I'd noticed," Phil said. "She seems very capable for this new maintenance position you've put her in."
"Oh, yeah," Griss nodded, causing a cigarette to materialize in his mouth and a lighter to appear in his right hand. "She's been into cars and fixing things since she was a kid. One of the best in California, if they 'ad contests fer such things. Still, she's one o' the brightest girls I ever 'ad the courtesy to employ."
"So," Phil said, leaning forward on his elbows, "what's the story between you and her? You guys used to be an item? Had a fling in Vegas? Pick her up at a singles bar?"
"Please, Phillip," Grissom said, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward slightly to light his cigarette, then leaning back as his lighter vanished from sight. "You 'ave too active of an imagination, mate."
"C'mon, Griss..." Phil continued, a large smile spreading across his face. "Gimme the scoop..."
"Ain't no scoop, son," Grissom said, taking a drag from his Marlboro. "She's an employee. And that's about the long and short of it. I keep my business relationships strictly business. I've made it my own personal policy not to dip my pen in the company ink..."
Phil chuckled a bit, leaning back in his chair. "That's kinda surprising, really," he said. "I wouldn't have pictured you as the kinda guy to turn down a little hay-rolling with a beautiful woman just because she worked with you."
"Well, Charley -- and all the other women that work for me -- need to have an employer that respects 'em," Grissom said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and pointing it in Phil's direction. "That's the key to a respectable business venture, kid. Respect. 'Member that."
Phil nodded, turning back to his workstation. "I will, Griss," he answered, smiling as he returned to his work.
The two sat in silence for a moment, while Grissom regarded Phil curiously, blowing wisps of smoke into the air and rolling his cigarette around in his three fingers.
"What about yourself, Philsy?" Grissom asked, placing his cigarette between his lips. "You and Leslie been knocking boots yet, or what?"
Phil looked over at Grissom, his smile having faded at the mention of Leslie Kline's name. "She and I aren't necessarily on speaking terms right now..."
"Really?" Griss asked, arching an eyebrow. "'Ow's that work? You guys seemed to be getting along all right at the party last night."
"I'd rather not talk about it," Phil said, going back to his work.
"All right, man," Griss said, leaning back in his chair. "Your call."
Another minute of silence followed as Grissom continued to watch Phil with cautious eyes.
"Any other girlfriends?" Grissom asked. Phil shot him another glance as Grissom smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering," he said with a smile.
"Well," Phil said, leaning his right arm on the work station to face Grissom, "being an amnesiac, I really have no idea about too many of the girls I've met, but I do remember one that I've met within the last few months."
"Well?" Grissom said, a smirk on his face. "What was 'er name, Cassanova?"
"Gabi," Phil said, his smile broadening.
"Short for something?" Griss asked.
"Gabriela," Phil said, looking at Grissom like he was an idiot.
"Where'd you all guys meet?" Grissom kept questioning.
"A dance club up in New York," Phil answered, "called the Barrage."
"Never 'eard of it, myself," Grissom said, "but it sounds like a 'appenin' place."
"Yeah, pretty much," Phil said, still smiling. "We had a great time together..."
"So, what 'appened to 'er?" Grissom queried. "She leave you fer a guy with a cleft chin and a baseball bat shoved down 'is trousers?"
"No," Phil sighed, rolling his eyes and looking incredulously at Grissom, who just smiled and winked. "No, she... uh... she died."
"Really?" Griss said, sitting up straight in his seat. "Man... I'm really sorry to 'ear that, mate."
Silence.
"You think that's why things aren't workin' out too well with Leslie?" Grissom continued after a pause. "'Cuz you're not quite over Gabi?"
Phil shrugged. Grissom knew then that Phil wasn't in any mood to talk at this point. Resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, Montag muttered a few parting words and made his way to the doorway.
"Wait a minute..." Grissom said, pausing in the doorway, turning slightly. "You say you guys met in New York? Y'know, I just got done reading this article in the New York Times a few months back... said this girl died with this 'Unidentified Man.' 'Er name was Gabriela Riviera..." Grissom chuckled as he turned to exit. "Ain't that ironic?"
Grissom stopped suddenly as he heard the tell-tale click of an H&K .44 custom as he felt the barrel pressed into the back of his head. Slowly, his hands raised up in the air.
"Struck a nerve there, did I, Philsy?" he asked.
"Who... told... you?" Phil asked through gritted teeth.
"You wanna let me turn around and tell you or would you rather stand there with a gun to my 'ead fer the rest of the day?"
A pause.
"All right," Phil said, slowly. "If I see any guns materialize in your hands, I'm gonna blow your friggin' head off..."
"Fair enough," Grissom said a bit too lightly as he slowly turned and faced Phil. His friend now stood before him, his usually pleasant face contorted in frustration, rage, and disbelief. His personal sidearm was aimed directly at Grissom's right eye. However, it was not the first gun barrel Montag had stared down, and he was determined that it wouldn't be his last.
"Who told you?" Phil asked again, a bit less forcefully this time, but just as serious.
"No one, mate," Griss said. "What? You think you're the only one with connections? You think you're the only one with mercenary background and training? If you thought that, then you thought wrong, son!"
"You mean...?" Phil cocked his head to the side. "You're a merc?"
"A former merc," Griss stressed. "Name's Grissom Montag, alias the Sandcrawler. Doubt you'd have heard of me, though. I got outta the business before your memory picks up."
"So..." Phil said, pondering. "Who are you working for?"
"You don't listen to well, Philsy," Grissom said, shaking his head. "I'm not working for anyone anymore!"
Grissom eyed Phil's gun and then turned his attention back to his friend.
"Look, Phil," Grissom said, looking Phil dead in the eye. "You can put the gun down, mate. If I was gonna turn you in, I would've done so long before now..."
"How can I trust you?" Phil said.
"I figured out who you were at about noon yesterday," Grissom said, shrugging. "Believe me, if I were gonna capitalize on a deal like this, I'd have done it by now..."
Phil looked at Grissom, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his firearm to his side and dropped it, so it clattered to the floor.
"Grissom," Phil said slowly, "you've proven to be nothing but a friend to me. It's hard to find people to trust in our line of work. I think -- I hope -- that I can trust you."
"You can trust me, Phil," Grissom said, smiling. "Just so long as I can be able to trust you."
"You can count on me..." Phil said, smirking. He shook his head and slumped into his seat. "It's... it's been hard, Griss. Walking around not even knowing who you are. Where you came from."
"Look," Griss said, moving over to his chair. "When I was doing my initial research on you on my usual intelligence checkpoints, I ran across a file that might answer a question or two. Does the word Sigma mean anything to you?"
"No," Phil shook his head. "I know it should. Heck, I know it has something to do with where I came from. But... I don't know much else."
"I'll 'elp you, Philsy," Grissom said, offering his hand to Phil. "Anything I can find that'll 'elp you in your search -- any resource in my disposal -- if it'll 'elp... it's yours."
Phil smiled. "Thanks," he said softly, bending down to pick his gun off the ground. "I'd better get back to this core. I'll join you up at the construction site as soon as I finish up..."
"You might need these... y'know, for later..." Grissom said, holding his hand a few inches above the table as a small pile of bullets appeared in a heap. They were bullets to an H&K .44 custom. Phil looked up at Grissom with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
Grissom smiled a toothy grin, shrugged his shoulders, and said simply, "Hey, man... self-preservation's a bitch."