The owner of the silvery laughter in the driver's seat didn't seem quite as imposing. Marjorie had noticed a flash of red hair as she climbed into the mini van. "Do not let him fool you, " she stated, with an accent which she didn't immediately recognize. "Jakob is not nearly as fierce as he thinks he is." She said the "J" in Jakob. 

"Jakob," he corrected, pronouncing the "j" the German way with a snarl. He nodded his head towards Marjorie. She almost shivered under his glance. "We are going to the airport, and will meet with some of the others. I am to tell you not to record anything until we arrive at...at our destination." He settled back into his seat, and muttered something towards Annike which Marjorie couldn't understand but sounded something like a growl. 

"Jakob, really. I told you I don't understand German already, despite your blather about Dutch being a German dialect." She sniffed. "And there's no reason to be insulting."

Marjorie got the feeling she was watching a game that they'd played time and time again. She also got the feeling that Annike usually won. 

"I really must apologize for Jakob's rudeness. I'm Annike van der Waals, and I'm usually the chauffeur to this cretin." Actually, she did recognize her as the red-haired woman who she saw driving Ronan and another man several months ago in Hudson City. She remembered her as being quite attractive, actually. Somehow the thought of her spending that much time with Ronan made her uneasy. But she continued. "Do you know, I think that I saw you years and years ago on a newscast in San Francisco. You were interviewing a football player or something." Marjorie could see her concentrated frown in the rearview mirror as she dodges several bicyclists who veered in front of the van. "I must say, we've all been rather curious about you, especially since--" 

Jakob snarled something at her and she stopped, embarrassed. "Ah, well, then. We're already here at the airport," she finished instead. Instead of driving up to the terminal, though, Annike drove past the rental car area and towards the large hangars. ARGH! Marjorie knew she had forgotten to take care of something! Well, hopefully this wouldn't take too long and she'd still get her deposit back. 

They didn't stop, and were waved through, onto the tarmac. Annike whistled softly to herself as she negotiated through the web of people, fuel cars, and other vehicles. Something was familiar about her, besides the fact that Marjorie had seen here in Ronan's company. There was something about her manner. After about five minutes of driving past hangars, the van pulled inside of one and stopped. 

"We're here," Annike announced, and hopped out of the van. She was attractive, about 5'5 and slender. She was wearing the same black pants and gray shirt Jakob was, although she'd tossed a large wool sweater on. She darted around the side of the jet and then quickly dashed up to the cockpit. 

Without much ceremony, Marjorie and Jim were escorted into the corporate jet waiting. Its engines were already running, she noted as she climbed the steep stairs and into the cabin. It was not a large jet, though it was lushly appointed, with plush corporate seats, a wet bar and a huge television. 

Plunking down her bag, she noted that Ronan wasn't in here, either. 

"Nice friends you've got, " Jim commented as he lugged the camera inside. "Where'd this tip come from anyway? The European Union Secret Police?" He gestured towards the cockpit, where she saw Annike disappear into a moment before. He settled into a chair, belted the safety belt and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Not that I'm complaining. They never feed cameramen at those government 'receptions' anyway. The NBC guy and I were going to run out for burgers after the conference. There's a great place next to the Air and Space Museum. The waitresses all have--" He stopped and grinned, though she still couldn't see his eyes. Diplomatically changing the subject, he asked, "What's this about, anyway?" 

Not sure who was listening, she shrugged off the question. Besides, she was really not sure what exactly it was about either, except that it was about PRIMUS. "You really think the Braves are going to pull it off again this year, Jim?" she asked. "Or have you just finally given up on the Cubs?" 

"Treachery from my own ranks!" he howled, sitting up suddenly. The hat went flying. "My other hat was dirty," he clarified indignantly. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." 

"Hmph. Of course I noticed," she stated. "Although I heard about a great trade--" 

She turned as a shadow crossed the threshold of the aircraft and Jakob, followed by Ronan, entered. Jakob immediately went to the cockpit of the aircraft, though Ronan turned to Marjorie . 

She knew her eyes must have widened as he stepped inside and pulled the hatch closed. He was really the most attractive man she'd ever seen, especially now, wearing tight black pants. His hair, thick and jet, fell over his forehead, and a stray lock brushed his cheekbone. It wasn't not long, she conceded, though it was longer by far than Jakob's. His eyes were cerulean blue, and are framed by dark, long lashes. He smiles at you, then, and she found yourself smiling back, blushing slightly. It was always difficult to keep her mind on the business at hand with Ronan around. 

"We're all very glad that you could make it, Marjorie," he stated in thick brogue. 

Behind her Jim groaned. "It is the damn EU, I knew it!" 

Ronan laughed. "You must be Jim Emerson. Marjorie has told me about you. I'm Ronan O'Neill." He extended a hand to Jim, who took it. 

Ronan sat down across from both of them, though he was looking only at Marjorie as he spoke. "There are a few things which I must mention to you before we leave. The first is about this organization, and the people in it whom you might meet while working with us: none of this is to be revealed. Ever. We do good work, but our existence is not to ever be made public." His face, which had become very serious, relaxed back into a half-smile as both agreed to his terms. 

"The second thing is to tell you what I know about where we're going. One of our operatives discovered a location which the American government used as a base for some of its less than sterling activities. This isn't really our usual line of work, but we have something of a vested interest in investigating. What we found is quite remarkable, though I will not describe it now. But" he stands. "It will be a long flight, and I need to contact my people in Alaska. Which is where we're going, by the way. I'll be back in a short time, and we'll discuss more then." 

After Ronan stepped into the private room in the aft of the jet Jim turned to you. "What is this all about, anyway? And why are you mooning over Ronan O'Neill?" 

"I am not mooning," she said, hoping no one overheard that. Twenty-five dozen roses on her twenty-fifth birthday might be one thing, but she was not going to give Ronan the pleasure of knowing she might be mooning over him. Especially after the way he cut out like that after her birthday dinner. Even her father's call from Ireland hadn't cheered her up as much as him kissing her. 

The aircraft began to move out of the hangar then, and soon it was up above the clouds, ostensibly on the way to Alaska. This better be the story of the year, she thought, for it's one thing for Peter Jennings to shirk an assignment, it's entirely another for Marjorie Dellinger. Her VIPER stunt gained her notoriety, true, but that was not the same thing as a solid reputation. She'd pissed off a lot of journalists; Dan Rather allegedly called her reckless, but that was gossip. Her deal with CBS was working out for now, but they were clamoring for her footage still. She and Jim had a beautiful copy of the interviews -- Firehawk and Selena practically falling out of their costumes laughing at one of Sherrie Peter's Avenger training stories. The women's interview was great -- good charisma and it flowed well. The men's, well, that could have worked out better. Still, what a stunt for Armstrong to pull. A good thing the Golden Avenger was putting his best public face forward. But she was going to have to make a decision about that piece, and soon. She thought she could stall for maybe a week longer. 

Jim was snoring when Ronan returned. 

"I don't know how one man can sleep so much, " Marjorie told Ronan as he sat down on the couch next to her, a newspaper in hand. "He slept on the flight to Washington, I'm quite sure he slept all the way through the press conference, and in the van on the way to the airport." When he didn't immediately answer, she turned to look at him, and saw that he was distracted, absently looking out the window. 

"Ronan? Hello?" She blurted before thinking, How irritating! He was the reason she was here after all -- getting into trouble with the network surely wasn't her idea. 

He looked back towards her, guiltily. He was holding a clipboard against his chest, and he looked a little worried. He smiled, and though his eyes crinkled a little around the corners, she noticed what a little boy he seemed when he smiled. "I'm sorry, Marjorie. I was wool gathering, as my nurse would say." 

Changing the subject, he asked her about the wedding. "I saw the bits about it that appeared on the telly. One of my, ah, operatives was very interested in the event. You looked lovely, though." He smiled again. 

"Yes, it was a lovely wedding, but the dress itched," she said with a smile. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that Christine's new mother-in-law purposely had it altered to be that way. I know she really didn't approve of me, but then I don't think she approved of anyone in the wedding party, Christine influded. Foolish of her really, all that disapproval just gave us strength in numbers," She said with a wink. "I wonder if she ever realized exactly who all was flicking that ice around." 

She took a closer look at him. Sometimes I think I get so side-tracked by his good looks that I don't really see what is going on with him. Dangerous really, as a reporter I'm supposed to be really good at reading people, guessing their emotions. But, somehow with Ronan I can never guess what he's thinking or even feeling for that matter. Why couldn't dad's drugs give me empathy instead of a great sidekick. At least then I'd have some idea what Ronan really thinks about me. I'm mean the roses were great, but obviously by this jet, he can easily afford them. And, he never really stays for long.

"I hope that look of concern isn't for Jim and I. You know we're pretty good about taking care of ourselves. Jim made it all the way through Bosnia without a scratch. Rumor has it he slept through the shelling of a Sarejevo." 

"And you know, I can take care of myself. Unless of course I get entangled. Hmm, their was that bad turn with the space ship and the aliens. Whoever thought big furry cats could move so fast. There's no human-sized furry cats where we are going are there?" she asked him with a smile. 

She was trying to get him to laugh there. The man was being way too serious on this flight, which actually worried her, but she wasn't going to let him know that. 

Ronan lightened up after a while -- he admitted to being concerned about "his men" who are on the ground in Alaska. "I'm not so worried about their safety, just the exposure. There aren't any human sentries here, just robots," he told Marjorie. "And with your father's help we easily disabled those. Not," he quickly reacts to your look of concern, "That he's down there, Marjorie. It was a remote link." 

"I hope he hasn't blown up anything or worse yet taught the kitchen to make that concoction he calls Chicken Tandori Delight. I warn you know, I think that dish could be outlawed under SALT II." 
 

Jim was snoring in the front of the cabin, while the two of them talked on a sofa near the back. The flight was pretty smooth, she thought, considering the Delta pilot on the way to Washington couldn't keep it steady 30 seconds at a stretch. Annike was at least doing her job. Something still was bothering her about her, though -- she seemed familiar. She wasn't sure if she'd ever met her (the feeling of familiarity wassn't that strong), but for some reason she knew she knew her face and her name. 

But it was difficult to think about a Dutch pilot, however competent, when she was sitting with Ronan. When he returned from the small cabin in the back about three hours into the flight, she was busy organizing the bits of  the interviews for CBS. She was almost finished with the male side, except that she knew there was no way to handle the bit with Philadelphia hero Centurion -- no one would believe her if she came out and said it was Kevin Armstrong, and he had done an excellent job of disguising both his appearance and his voice for the interview. 

"What's that?" he asked, flopping down rather ungracefully next to her. He leaned closer to her to look at the computer screen. He smelled like sea air and cinnamon. 

"Oh, just finishing up some old work." She answered, flipping the computer closed. 

"Ah, reporter stuff." 

"Speaking of reporter stuff, Ronan, I have a few questions for you as well. " At his rolled eyes, she continued. He wasn't going to weasel out of answering her questions this time -- there was nowhere to escape to. 

"You know, Ronan," she began. "I realized the other day that I didn't know your middle name. Then I realized that I didn't know where you're from, or what do really do..." 

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "I know we need to talk. We've been meaning to talk for a long time, Marjorie," He looked at her. "It's just that I've been working my butt off for the last six months. I was barely able to spend Christmas with my parents, and even had to leave halfway through dinner, it's been so bad." Well, at least she know he had parents now. Taking a look towards the front of the cabin, Ronan made sure Jim was asleep before he began. Even then, when he speaks, his voice was low. "But you must understand this is for your ears alone, not CBS, right?" When she nodded, he took a deep breath. 

"Let's start with what you do know, shall we? I work for an Irish company, you know that. We're mercenaries, Marjorie. We make money to further the cause of Republicanism. I don't blow up buses or babies. We're not cowards in the Wild Geese. But we don't like the English, either." 

Something jogged her memory. "The Wild Geese were the people who broke the political prisoners out of the Maze?" She'd heard about the assault on the British prison several months ago. 

Ronan nodded. "That's right. We did a right good job of that one, too." He sighed. "I didn't want you to hate me for what I do, Marjorie, but I couldn't go any further with you unless you knew. Certainly you must have thought I was an idiot, not telling you how I felt." 

I can't believe Ronan would think I get upset with him over belonging to the Wild Geese and I'm going to tell him that. 

"I understand why you're doing what you're doing. I don't know a lot about you, but I think that is the one thing I do know and that is you don't wage war on innocent people and kids." 

"Besides. In the last month, I think I've learned a lot about looking beyond the stereotypes. Hell, I used to think Kevin Armstrong belonged behind bars, but lately, with all the things I found PRIMUS involved in. Well, maybe I can understand why he did what he did. That still doesn't excuse everything he did. I guess I just understand better." 

"At any rate," he continued, looking somewhat embarrassed, "My life story isn't that interesting, really. I was born in County Cork, grew up speaking Gaelic at home. My middle name is Padr.ig. My parents are Maire and Donal, and they're small landowners. My mother writes Gaelic poetry, and my father breeds horses for racing. I have three brothers, all of them older, and two sisters. When the time came, I went to Trinity College in Dublin." He stopped, and gauged her reaction. 

"So how does this translate into becoming a mercenary?" she asked when he paused. I wish those reporter instincts would turn off sometimes. 

"Well," he began. "At college, I became active in politics. I found that I was very interested in what was going on in the North, and that I wanted to do something about it. I realized the Provos were going about it the wrong way, but I didn't see anyone else offering a better solution. But when I was 23, I was invited to join this organization. They didn't want me in this position. Since I was new, they thought to have me infiltrate VIPER. VIPER has been encouraging the troubles, selling weapons to Protestant and Catholic groups in the North, and making a mess of the whole situation." 

"So you were a mole?" she asked. 

"Not exactly. I did much what you did in San Francisco, except I brought down VIPER in Ireland for the most part. It took me five years, but I did it. However, it was best that I stay out of Ireland as much as I could to protect myself, my family, and my organization. So I'm an agent commander now, and I spend all of my time working now." He smiled. "But I can't complain. I saw you again, after all." 

"Hmph. Why did you help me,then, when I was trying to join VIPER?" 

"I checked your story out. It was good, but not airtight. Whoever put it together didn't do all of their homework. But I figured I could send you away from what I was trying to do, and you could do what you would there. But later I investigated even more closely, and figured out who you were. I also had figured out who your father was, and I tried to get a hold of you to let you know what VIPER was planning to do. I picked one of the technical journals you were reading in the corner at that pub, and figured maybe you'd catch a classified ad placed there." 

"Good guess," she answered. "I did see it, but I was called away on that same mission to capture my father. I couldn't abandon him, and now I'm glad I had the opportunity to save him." 

Ronan was silent for a moment, then he turned back to her. "What, in heaven's name, possessed you to tempt VIPER the way you did? By Christ, if they had chosen a more subtle way of trying to kill you, they could have nailed you a dozen times! They found you before I could, even, and I was looking." He looked somewhat irritated. "Even now, my sources say they're planning another attack on you. I do wish you'd be more careful, Marjorie." His watch beeped, and he checked it. "Time to check in again. I'll be back in a few minutes." He squeezed her hand slightly. "I don't want you to think I'm lecturing, cariadol. But I'm worried about you. You're living more dangerously than I am." He stepped back into the small cabin in the aft of the jet. 

At this rate she'll probably have him thinking she was a babbling idiot before they crossed the Mississippi. Perhaps, it'd best if she backed off. She wondered if all relationships were this difficult or just the ones she was in. 

If one more person lectures me about not being careful I think I'm going to scream. The guys lecture me. Ronan lectures me. I think nearly being blown up and having by father kidnapped and tortured has taught me a lesson. I mean I quit my regular job. I don't do regular corresponding for any station. I haven't done anything really stupid. But, I'm also not going to stop doing my work. It's not like I don't stay awake at night worrying about this very thing. Maybe I should move again.  

I've been thinking I should get a t-shirt that reads "Don't worry, I'm a reporter. I'm trained to do this."  

Why is it that the Ronan, Orion, Olympian all of them think that I'm going to spill everything I hear on the air? Reporters are the most secretive people I know next to CIA spooks. Hell, its one of the reasons we've pursued all those shield laws. It sure helps to have those in place when your called to testify in the case. Nothing pisses off a prosecutor more than invoking a shield law and the First Amendment so you don't have to say who gave you the information. Not that enough reporters haven't gone to jail when the law failed to protect them. Actually, I've been worrying about that lately. This information I've been discovering about PRIMUS, I wanted to take it it to either Sens. Worthington and Bains. I think they're honest enough and would take it to a Congressional investigating committee. I know congress doesn't have shield laws. But it does recognize some invocations of First Amendment privilege. Oh well, I guess I'll worry about it if it comes up.  

You know there's a lot of stuff I've never reported on. I've never spilled the beans about Olympian and Orion's secret ID. (Of course, until recently I never knew who they were.) I haven't talked about a lot of our missions. I just don't know how I got this reputation for spilling everything to the public. However, I do believe in the public's right-to-know, especially about things that involve their own government and tax dollars. And, if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make sure PRIMUS gets out of its dirty genetic experimentation. I wouldn't mind seeing Col. Avery Vasquez do some serious prison time as well.  

I'd really love to know more about Ronan, but most of all I just wish I could spend more time with him. That's really our problem. Between the two of us, one of us is always running off somewhere. Just once I'd like to spend an uninterrupted 24 hours with him. No one else. Since that is not likely to happen anytime soon. I guess I'd better just be happy with what I've got. 
 

She wracked her brain to try and figure out where she knew Annike from. If I can't figure it out I won't ask. I don't suppose she's one of the people who followed me when I was staying at the hotel? Eee gads! Even worse. She mentioned San Francisco. Was she ever around the VIPER nest. Hell Ronan "worked" for them for a time maybe she did too? I will say hello. Make some polite conversation with her. Ask her if she grew up in San Francisco. I lived in the area for most of my life - maybe we went to the same high school. Besides, I hate it when I can't recognize a face or a voice. The last time that happened I got duped by Kevin Armstrong. 
 

Annike bounded back towards the restroom while Marjorie was contemplating what just happened. Her shoulder length red hair ws flying every which way, and she looked irritated and wet.  "Germans," she muttered to Marjorie as she shut the lavatory door. "They have no sense of humor." 

When she emerged, she looked a little happier at least. Giving a glance to the cabin where Ronan was, she fell onto the sofa, her feet in the air and her head on the floor of the cabin. "I am so tired of being in the air!" she exclaimed, loudly enough for Jim to shake out of his slumber. 

When Marjorie leaned forward a bit to see her head (which was about a foot away from her feet) she noticed the huge emerald ring on her right hand (which was clutching her head in a gesture of mock agony.) It was at least four carats, and sat on a what looks like a coat of arms. Suddenly the pieces fell together. While Marjorie was gallivanting across Europe, prior to having met Ronan or joined VIPER, she'd spent about three weeks in Amsterdam.  There was this huge deal in the papers about a female pilot who had become involved with one of the princes. Not a month after the story had hit the presses, she (Annike van der Waals -- you remembered the name because of the van der Waals equation) was killed in some sort of accident. Since the royal family reportedly hadn't been approving of the match, it was all very suspicious at the time. 

"I agree. Being on this plane is driving me nuts as well. Six hours to Alaska after spending two hours to Washington DC is not conducive to anyone's mental health. Have you ever played table football? Or anything. Ping pong. Table hockey. There has got to be something to do on this plane. Wait...I load Myst onto my computer? Maybe you could help me figure out how to get through the labyrinth section. I think whomever designed that section in this game was slightly psychotic. It's almost impossible." 

Annike, lying on her back on the floor of the cabin with her feet up on the sofa, stretched suddenly and somersaulted backwards, ending up sitting in front of Marjorie. "So," she said, leaning forward on her hands. "Tell me about you. Everything we've heard is so cryptic, and," she looked towards the back room where Ronan was, "Ronan has been very secretive about you. All we know about you is from that CNN thing. Rory heard that VIPER wants to kill you and that you're big with the U.S. government. Brian heard that you were really a superhero. What's the deal, anyway?" 

Marjorie blustered her way through an answer, explaining what everyone in America could know if they investigated: she'd been a reporter for almost seven years, she was assigned to infiltrate VIPER while she was with CNN, what happened when she left, and how things have fallen out since. 

She mentioned the forthcoming interview and what else she was planning. 

"So you met Ronan while you were with VIPER, then? I guess that makes sense." 

"What do you mean, Annike?" she asked. 

"Oh, nothing really. It's just that Ronan hasn't had a lot of time for relationships in the past couple of years, what with all that's happened. I just was wondering how the two of you had met." She looked slyly at her, though Marjorie could tell that Annike knew she was not at all fooled by the question. She managed to keep the sly look on her face for exactly five seconds before she started to laugh. "Well," she admitted, "I have a hundred pounds riding on the outcome of the issue." 

She looked at Marjorie speculatively, but frowned when Ronan opened the cabin door and looked directly at her. 

"Annike, have you compensated for the new American satellite surveillance codes yet? We've almost reached the next sector." Ronan's professional voice was more harsh than Marjorie was used to, though he didn't seem unkind. Annike made a face at him and then at Marjorie. 

"Yes, Ronan, I entered the clearance codes," she explained rolling her eyes. "We're good for another 1000 miles." 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe you could check the weapons systems. Just in case." He closed the door. 

Annike sighed, and stood up. "They never let up. It's what I get for being the only girl in this outfit, I guess." She gave Marjorie a mock salute. It was hard to tell, but the coat of arms on her ring looked pretty regal. "Hopefully we'll be able to talk later then." She stepped over Jim's legs, which were blocking the passage, on her way back to the cockpit. 

The rest of the flight passed relatively uneventfully, since Ronan was preoccupied with communicating with his team in Alaska, and Annike stayed up front. To the best of her knowledge, Jakob didn't leave the cockpit. She was not positive, since she'd manage to doze for about 45 minutes of the trip. 

Jim was not going to sleep the entire flight through. If Marjorie was going to be miserable, he could at least share in part. Plus, she really had to talk to him. She had no intention of dragging him all the way to Alaska into a totally unknown situation with people she barely knew. Make that people she didn't really know at all. She barely knew Ronan. She didn't know Annike and Jakob. She thought she'd better put it on the line and explain to Jim what was going on. 

"Jim, I've got to let you know. I've gotten some information that PRIMUS is, well, not really all it is cracked up to be. This is more than a few over-eager agents bending Miranda rights. I can't tell you everything. I don't want someone coming after you. But, PRIMUS brass may have hurt a lot of innocent people. You need to understand that what were doing could be very dangerous and well, if you want to back out, well, I'd understand." 

"Yeah, yeah," he said, turning back to the window.  "Why is it you reporter types always seem to be so concerned for the welfare of us cameraman types, when we both know who does all the really dangerous work?"