Chapter 9: An Invasion from the East

The next morning there was a note waiting for me with Pine. It from from Jon.

The handwriting was clean and precise. It wasn't unnatural, but there was about as much personalty in it as you'd see in your average typewriter.

He wanted to see me whenever I was free to meet, in the cafeteria at Police HQ.

Wait... Police HQ had a cafeteria? I'd been through most of the building and I'd never seen one.

I had an hour or so before I'd promised English I'd meet up with him, so we were good to go.

The walk to HQ was a calm one. A warm wind in my face from off the ocean carried the scent of salt and brine. It's more relaxing than it sounds. The city was alive and awake around me. For just a moment it felt like everything was going well again. Things weren't perfect, but they were good.

And I could only guess that's why folks were still protesting.

At least the protests had died down recently. People, it seemed, didn't like good. They always wanted better. And the fact that things were getting better slowly wasn't enough for them.

Stepping up to the red brick Police HQ I took one last breath of fresh air before stepping in.

It wasn't that the air in here was stuffy, quite the opposite. All the air, like everything else in the building, was up to spec. It was filtered and checked. And free of the scents that made life worth living.

I stood in line to talk to the dog on duty behind the counter. I was here for a meeting with the Commissioner, but I didn't need to jump queue.

And there was quite a wait today, everything from dogs to humans to oni. They were all standing in line, silent with grim faces. There wasn't enough to be alarming, but definitely more than I'd like to see.

At long last I made it up to the front. The dog was expecting me. He called an escort to show me to the cafeteria.

Well, at least I knew why I'd never noticed the place before.

Down in the basement, the cafeteria was little more than a double oversized meeting room with the big conference table stripped out and replaced with a dozen or so smaller tables.

I'd been expecting a halfway decent kitchen in here or something with how obsessive the force is with its health. No such luck.

My guide showed me into the room and closed the door behind me. There were only a half dozen or so other canines in here. Jon sat in a corner of the room, behind a small square wooden table. There was a stack of papers in front of him along with a bowl of dry kibble and a glass of water.

Oddly, the papers sat untouched. Jon was staring out into the middle distance, completely oblivious to me.

Walking to the other side of the room, I glanced down at the conveyor belt that held the meals for the day. They were all identical bowls of dry kibble. Next to the belt stood a pyramid of glasses and a plain water tap.

It only took a single sniff of the kibble for me to leave it be. I'd tried the police dog's fair one. Some kibble can be halfway palatable – though its rare. The stuff the cops ate was far from it.

Lifting a glass from its precarious pile, I filled it with water and turned to walk off towards Jon.

Sparing a quick glance around at the other dogs in here, I'll admit I was a little surprised. One had a newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. Another was fiddling around with a little bone. There was even one reading a pocketbook.

All of them had the collars of their uniforms loosed and they weren't sitting as straight as I'd come to expect of them. All in all, they looked normal.

Jon was the exception. Other than his far away expression, he still looked the part of a police dog, sitting ramrod straight without a hair out of place.

I sat down across the small table from him. He didn't even acknowledge me save the slight flick of one ear.

Seemingly with great effort, his eyes finally focused and he was back to the here and now.

“Good morning, Tommy," he said.

I nodded at him and took a lap of my water.

“Nice place you got here," I said, glancing around. “Does it cost too much to get a couple of motivational posters on the walls or something? This place looks like you guys just threw it together."

A smile touched his lips.

“You could say that. The force didn't have a cafeteria until about four months ago. This used to be an attendance hall." He shook his head. “We rarely used it. The force has been too big to fit in once place for a long time. Anyway," the smile grew, “I was thinking that we needed a bit of a place to unwind and the gym was overused. So I had the cafeteria made. It's the only no-salute zone in the world."

I cocked my head. “No what?"

The smile finally made it to his eyes. “No-salute. It means that anyone in the force can come in here and do as they wish no matter their rank. I'm not Commissioner in here, just a dog. A corporal could come in and join me at my table."

I grinned back. “I see you're making improvements."

He shrugged. “It's taking time, but we're getting there."

I cocked an eyebrow. “You know, there were those black suited..."

Jon raised a finger to his lips, glancing around to the other men and women. “Another time, perhaps."

Heh. Now that was interesting. Something that Jon didn't feel comfortable talking about with his own men in hearing range.

I changed topics. “So, you called me down here?"

He nodded. “I thought you might want to know what we've found out about Brian Ferguson."

I sat back and took another sip of water. “That was fast."

Jon's ears pulled back slightly. “He's been more than willing to talk. I was concerned we'd have to use... interrogation techniques, but he's been quite forthcoming with anything we can think to ask him." Jon paused for a moment. “Not that he seems to recall much."

“So he really has forgotten everything?"

He narrowed his eyes. “So it would appear. But not everything. There are odd scraps of information he does seem to recall, almost at random. And..." He trailed off, his eyes unfocousing again.

“And," I prompted.

“Ah, yes," he said, snapping back to the here and now. “There is the matter of his memory. It seems this may not be the first time this has happened."

“That he lost his memory?"

Jon shook his head. “That he was killed."

My gut went sideways.

“I believe Brian mentioned he'd found letters written by his former self?" I nodded. “The evidence is still unconfirmed, but his... debreifers believe that this was a survival plan put in place before you... inconvenienced him. So far Brian has located three letters addressed to him from his former self. They don't appear to be in order." Jon shook his head. “While Mr. Ferguson came up with an inventive plan, it appears he did not necessarily think it out overly well. The letters – he provided them to us – are rambling, unpleasant affairs. While they were certainly written by Mr. Ferguson their purpose seems to be unknown."

I cocked my head. “Aren't they to help him regain his memory?"

Jon shrugged. “One would expect, but it appears the letters cover everything but what would be most important. As I believe Brian mentioned, they failed to even mention his name. Until he met you he was going under the pseudonym of James Wolfram."

“Wonderful." I rolled my eyes. “Is he regaining his memory?"

“In a manner of speaking. His cognitive facilities are most definitely improving. The changes even over the last couple of hours are noticeable. It would appear his conversations have done great things to jump start the healing of his brain."

“That's his body, Jon," I said, “His physical brain. What we need to know is his mind. Is he returning to who he was before?"

Jon shrugged. “There's no way to know. No one knew Brian Ferguson before. You had the most exposure to him, and that was only scant few minutes." Jon narrowed his eyes and leveled me with a glare. “But that does leave us with a question. What do to with him?"

I let out a long sigh.

“He was dead, right?"

Jon nodded. “He was recorded as deceased by the government. An accidental fall. While the body was never truly recovered, enough blood and flesh was found for the coroner to make the assessment that he had died."

“Fine," I said, “So Brian Ferguson is dead. Who is the man I talked to last night?"

Jon didn't say a word.

I closed my eyes. “Brian Ferguson is dead. The man you have in custody shares the same name and the same form, but he's a new man as far as we can tell. A different person."

Jon sat silent for a moment before nodding. “His mind seems to have come back blank."

“Fine." I lowered my forehead to touch the rim of my cool glass. “As far as I can see Brian is free to go." I opened one eye to glance at Jon. “You've got a list of offenses longer than my tail to hold him to if you want, but as far as what he did before he's clear."

A faint smile touched the dog's lips. “I thought you might say that. I've had my officers working with him. Anyone capable of disabling an entire police station is not someone I would like to have pitted against me." He twitched an ear. “Not that I want him running about the city unsupervised either. We've found a business – tangentially connected with the force – that is in need of a laborer. And an apartment close by. There happen to be a number of officers who also have apartments in the building. I think he might be a good fit there."

I smiled and shook my head. “You had this all figured out before hand, didn't you?"

For just a moment Jon looked taken aback before glancing about the room and grinning. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean. The force would never take action outside its jurisdiction. Why, reintegrating a man into society is hardly part of our mandate. The only way we could ever embark on a project like that would be at the request of the City Administrator."

Was it wrong that I felt like reaching across the table and slapping him?

There wasn't much to be left for our meal, but Jon made sure to finish off every chunk of kibble and every drop of water in his glass.

“Have to set a good example," he said.

Putting our dishes away on a tray to be cleared off by the gods knew who, I followed Jon out the door.

I'd been expecting to find another dog standing here waiting to take me back outside, but instead Jon urged me forward.

“I thought you might want to take a tour of some of the newer parts of the station," he said.

I cocked my head and followed him.

I'd been through Police HQ a good many times, but never on a real tour. Every time I've been here I'd had someplace to go, something to do. Now Jon led me calmly down one of the endless, identical whitewashed hallways.

Gods, this place was worse than Storm Front.

Still in the basement, we took a half dozen turns, seemingly at random, before Jon threw open a door.

“Our gym," he said.

Heh. Well, this was impressive.

I hadn't known what to expect when Jon had mentioned they had a workout gym. I'd been expecting something akin to the little workout room at SF with a couple of sparing dummies and some weights. This was a little more impressive.

Two stories high, it pressed down into the sub-basement. Even then it was still lit by a set of windows from above.

I pointed to them.

“Reflected from skylights in the roof," Jon said.

There were dummies and weights here to be sure, but quite a bit more. Everything from a jungle-gym to a oval racetrack. And all of it seemed to be in use.

The dogs down there were still wearing their blue duty uniforms, but they were all stained with sweat.

“Don't they ever take those off?" I asked.

Jon gave me a knowing glance. “One thing at a time, I suppose. You'd be surprised how hard it is to change. It's been what, over a year? I've been fighting tooth and nail to get even the smallest of changes written into the force's protocols. New projects that the force agrees with on the other hand..." He shrugged.

“Yeah," I said. “We should talk about that." I followed Jon as he headed off again, I assumed to his office.

We never made it.

Up on the main floor, we were just getting ready to ascend the next staircase when an officer stepped around the corner.

That is and of itself was a bit of an oddity. Despite how many cops filled this building you never saw them when you walked the hallways. It was as if they took paths to avoid each other. At least when there was a guest present.

The dog didn't say anything but Jon went motionless.

I couldn't make out a word when they begun speaking, but Jon did not seem happy for the interruption.

“Tommy," he said, turning to me, “It would appear our meeting will have to wait. You have a visitor waiting for you in receiving."

“A visitor? No one even knows I'm here."

Jon shrugged, but his eyes were hard. It seemed he didn't care for other people intruding on the control of his domain.

All in all, it was a bit anticlimactic. Standing nervously in the front waiting room of Police HQ was a brown furred hare. He wore the familiar uniform of a government messenger.

Guys like that tend to have a nervous energy about them, spending all their time running messages from place to place, but this fella in particular really looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.

The fact he had a half dozen police dogs standing around him was a good hint as to why.

A big, relieved smile spread across his face the moment I stepped in the room. “Sir!" he called, waving a hand in the air as if I might miss him.

Stepping up, the crowd of dogs parted between us to let me pass. It was only then I realized they had closed in front of him but left a clear passage back outside.

“What can I do for you?" I asked, my voice mild. I was more confused now than alarmed. Max only sent messengers when it was something important, and he'd never sent one while I was in Police HQ before.

I expected the hare to hand me a delivery packet, but instead he just shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“They mayor has instructed me to bring you to him. It's urgent."

“I should hope so," said Jon acidly from behind me. I'd never heard him speak like that.

The hare shied back as if he'd been slapped. “I'm sorry, Commissioner, I really am. It's just that the mayor made me promise up and down that I'd bring Mr. Taggert to him immediately. He was very particular that we not delay." He choked on his words, as if just realizing what he said.

“Very well," replied Jon. With a subtle twitch of his hand he called off the pack of the dogs who clustered about the messenger. The man let out a relieved breath. “But," Jon added, “You will let the mayor know that I wish to speak to him. We must come to an understanding that this site is not to be intruded upon lightly by the government."

I had to keep my mouth from falling open. Being the top cop had changed Jon.

The messenger didn't have to be told twice to get out. He was through the door in seconds, all I got to see was the after image of his upturned tail disappearing around the door.

I took off in hot pursuit. Even then it took me the better part of half a block to catch up.

“Where..." I gasped between pants, “Are we going?"

For all the world the messenger didn't even seem to be breathing hard as he rocketed down the street at a pace that to me seemed to be twice that of breakneck.

“West," he said. “The docks. Tsawwassen. That's where the mayor said to meet him."

“Why?" I took every last particle of air I had to get the word out.

He shrugged, somehow working the motion into his run. “Who knows. No one ever tells us anything."

We made it in record time – for me anyway – though I think I would have had a heat attack if not for my regeneration.

And we weren't the first ones there.

There was a crowd of people standing on the crumbling concrete and steel embankments that had, once long ago, been a ferry terminal.

I knew the men and women well enough to tell at a glance they were all from the government. All high ranking members too. Most of them in the diplomatic circles.

Max stood out in front of them all, perched ungracefully atop a small pile of rusted out steal girders. He was looking out towards the sea.

“What now?" I asked.

My guide had stopped at the edge of the crowd. He must had decided his job here was done. He sat down and motioned for me to continue on without him.

No one seemed to notice I was here. That was by itself odd. I was well enough known in these circles than none of them should have mistaken me for a dirty brown furred wolf who'd just happened to wander by. They were all too busy straining their eyes and trying to see over the western horizon.

Working my way forward, it was a challenge to get past without having to elbow anyone out of the way. It got easier, thankfully, once I got to the rusty pile of steel Max was atop of. The red of the rust contrasted nicely with the blue of the sea. It matched Max's unusually red skin.

“What's up?" I asked as I puled myself up the last few feet to perch next to him at the apex.

His normally ruddy complexion was paler than I remembered. He handed me a set of high powered binoculars.

Lifting them to my face, I had to adjust them quite a bit to fit my inhuman features. And even more to focus for my eyes.

For a long moment all I could see was the bright blue of the sky, then for even longer the dark blue of the sea.

“To your left," Max muttered from beside me. “Just below that triangular cloud."

Following his directions, I was able at last to find a dim and indistinct blob on the horizon. Or, more to the point, a whole lot of blobs.

“What am I looking at?" I asked.

Max let out a sigh. “From the reports? A fleet of envoys and trading ships from Japan."

“What?" I handed him back the binoculars. “Japan? Asia hardly ever sends over ships in any numbers, especially Japan. Except for the occasional group of immigrants it's like they hardly exist."

I had to check my words. Max was himself from Japan, having come across the Pacific decades ago.

“You're telling me," he said. “You've no idea how much trouble it is to find a ship when I want to go for a vacation home. The wife was stuck over there once for four months when she missed her departure."

I squinted, now unaided, at the horizon. I couldn't see a thing.

“How many ships?" I asked.

“Twenty-five. None of them shorter than a hundred meters."

I just about fell backwards.

I can't say I remember much of the next three hours. At first we simply stood there and watched dumbly as the ships approached. Then someone got the bright idea of filling me in on the particulars.

This wasn't a case of someone just happening to look up one day and noticing the ships out there, but rather a courier had arrived a few hours ago.

The courier had been supposed to show up weeks ago to announce the arrival of this grand fleet, but it had been waylaid by a storm. Now it arrived hardly a day ahead of the grand flotilla it was intended to announce.

It seemed that Japan wanted to reopen trade.

It wasn't that trade had ever been closed but neither of us just ever seemed to do all that much of it. Japan was one of V-town's biggest trading partners, but that wasn't saying much.

And next someone, possibly the same person, realized that it wouldn't do to have half the government of V-town standing out on the docks with their mouths agape like farm boys when the circus rolled in.

I was grabbed, none to gently, by the tail and hauled off to what I can only describe as the powder room.

I knew it well from my days as mayor. Sat down in a chair, the half dozen or so attendants folded me into a spotless suit and brushed and powdered me until I looked regal.

I'd hated it then and I hated it now.

“Why isn't Max doing this?" I asked. “He's Japanese, he can speak the language. I can't do anything."

I got my answer quickly enough when Max walked in to check on me. He – the lucky bugger – was a lot easier to get presentable. A more human body and a distinct lack of fur or hair meant he could go from shabby to picture perfect in little more than minutes.

“Because it's twenty-five ships out there, Tommy," he said. “I may be mayor, but you're still the City Administrator. I need all the help I can get with this. We've never had to deal with anything like this before, it could be an invasion for all we know."

“What?" I almost fell out of my chair.

He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “Sorry, figure of speech. The courier said it's strictly a trade envoy. But I still need your help."

I closed my eyes and set my head back as someone grabbed one of my hands and began polishing my claws.

“But I can't even speak the language!"

Max frowned. “Oh. I'd forgotten about that. Well, I'm sure they've sent some people who speak english."

I opened my eyes, a smile on my lips. “Speaking of English..."

About twenty minutes later the messenger I'd sent off – perhaps the same one who'd fetched me – was back with an out of breath lion trailing behind him.

Was it wrong that I was enjoying seeing the golden lug suffer like I had?

“What... what in the gods' names is it, Mate? You dragged me away from a shella. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else in the-- oh." He stopped dead when he saw me in the powder chair.

He knew how much I hated being in here.

It didn't take long to get him up to date. Though I did notice his whiskers droop as I spoke.

“Uh, Mate, you do remember that I'm dead as far as the Japanese are concerned, right?"

I gritted my teeth. “I thought the official line was that you 'sent to the new world'. It was your father-in-law that decided to change it to the 'next world'. Should line up nice for you, eh? You can be the official interpreter for the City Administrator."

The lion's eyes lit up and he smiled. He said something that sounded like gibberish to me but Max jumped.

“When did you learn that?" Max asked.

English said something more and Max turned even redder than normal.

We made it just in time.

Not to say that we have much of anything grand worked out, but we sent out a little cutter to meet the fleet and guide them into our nicest port that we could get cleared for the occasion.

Standing on shore with the delegation, My jaw just about dropped.

The ships just kept coming and coming. And they kept getting larger.

These were no little sail boats, and no small yachts either. I'd never seen anything like these. Huge diesel powered monsters that had to be hundreds of meters end to end. They were like floating cities of their very own.

English, who'd managed to avoid a suit, leaned in from beside me.

“Pick your jaw up, Mate. Don't want to look like a yokel in front of the neighbors." He wasn't exactly frowning, but his face was grim. “This is business as usual for them. It's not their best boats – those are warship – but they've sent out a good and reasonable trading fleet."

This was reasonable?

These boats were larger than anything I'd ever seen. There had to be hundreds of people aboard. That or tons of trade good. V-town was no stranger to trade, but this was easily ten times anything that had berthed here in decades.

The initial landing process was slow and cumbersome. It seemed that they knew what they wanted to do, but we didn't have the facilities do accommodate even half of what they expected.

Thankfully though we did at least have enough for what they needed.

It was more than four hours later before I finally got to shake someone's hand.

By then, and I swear to the gods that I never thought this day would come, I actually wanted to shake hands. Just to get it over with.

The government had set up a small reception inside one of the warehouses just off the dock. About a dozen or so government and corporate representatives met with about two dozen men and women who stepped off the ships.

A little to my surprise, about half of them were wearing business suits that were almost identical to my own.

Max stepped forward to greet the man at the head of the procession.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in what I could only guess were traditional Japanese robes, he seemed surprised to see Max.

The two of them exchanged a couple of soft words as they bowed to each other and shook hands.

I watched as English's ears perked.

“He recognizes Max," the lion whispered. “He's surprised to see him here. He remembers the days that Max was just a minor government representative back in Japan." English chuckled. “He's congratulating Max on being sent as they city's representative."

Even I could hear Max clear his throat.

“I am the mayor of V-town," the oni said in a voice that was more than strong enough to carry through the room.

“Ah." Even I could hear the Japanese representative say that.

Things didn't exactly go downhill, but they didn't get much better from there on out.

Meetings resumed the next morning. The two sides sitting across from each other on either side of a long table that had been setup overnight.

Max did most of the talking for our side. He was one of only a handful of senior government types who could speak both languages.

English and I sat off in the background. The lion's keen ears kept tabs on everything. He translated what choice bits came to his attention.

“They're asking what changed," he said. “They want to know what's changed in the city to open trade."

I cocked my head. “Nothing's changed," I said.

English gave me a disappointed look.

“Alright," I admitted, “Brian's gone. But was he keeping out this?"

English shrugged.

It seemed these people really were here to trade, and were making no bones about it. They wanted a trade agreement with the city. It seemed, much to all of our surprise that they were under the understanding that V-town had all but closed it boarders years ago.

Max was the first to tell them that wasn't so. He and I exchanged a glance.

Two more days passed and I was starting to get really board.

Even with English translating I was still out in the cold for most of the conversations. Max all but pleaded me to come, but it wasn't as if I was doing anything.

It wasn't until we broke for lunch on the third day that anything of note happened.

Max and the head representative on the other side had come to an impasse on some minor detail hours ago and neither of them were willing to give an inch.

The sad part was that I didn't even understand what they were arguing over.

English was off to the catbox and I was leaning against a wall, munching a chocolate bar when a man came walking up to me.

He was short – well, most of them were, and a dragon, dressed in a business suit almost indistinguishable from mine. No small feat as mine had been tailored by Smith.

He bowed as he stepped up to me. Not saying anything for a long moment as he looked me over.

“You are Taggert?" He voice had the huff sound many of the delegates did. I noticed he didn't put the stereotypical '-san' at the end of my name.

I nodded.

“I am Mr. Mayumi."

I cocked my head and nodded again. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mayumi. What can I do for you?"

He stopped and looked me over again.

“I would like to discuss our government's treaty."

I backed away a step, raising my hands in front of me.

“Sorry there, mister. I'm not the one you want to talk to. The mayor makes those kinds of decisions around here. He's the boss."

He hardly even skipped a beat before saying, “And you're his boss."

I let out a long sigh. “Fine. Just wait for my... translator to get back."

I'm guessing Mr. Mayumi had never noticed English, or at least never seen him up close. He was... well, to say he was taken aback by the lion would be an understatement.

A series of words escaped the dragon's lips, but I couldn't make out a single one of them.

English didn't say anything, but I could see him go still. And when he spoke his words were stiff.

The two men carried on a conversation, both of them suddenly ignoring me.

“I'm sorry," I cut in after a few moments, “Do you know each other?" Their conversation had been completely in Japanese, going over my head.

English gave himself a shake, then turned to me.

“You could say that, Mate," he said. His voice was a touch rough having switched languages. “Mr. Mayumi here," he said the name with an odd inflection, “was... is related to me through my father-in-law."

“Ah." I took a step back. “Well, perhaps I should give the two of you some time to catch up then."

The lion moved faster than I could track.

“No." His voice was mild, but there was steel under it. And a hint of fear. “I'm your translator, Administrator. I'll stay with you and do my job."

Almost before my eyes I could see the lion seem to fold in upon himself. He looked hardly so regal now, more subdued and browbeaten.

“Yes," Mr. Mayumi said, returning to me. “You, Mr. Taggert, are who we should be speaking to. I am in command of this expedition. We should be the ones speaking, not our subordinates."

And that was how I got roped, once again, back into the joys of diplomacy.

Max, much to my annoyance seemed overjoyed to be able to defer to me. He handed any problems he didn't want my way.

“Just. Go. Away."

I was ready to throw something at the mob of reporters who clustered around the entrance to the apartment building. They'd been there for days, hounding me ever since news broke that I'd taken over talks with the trade group from Japan.

It had gotten bad enough that Jon had once again had to double the number of police dogs stationed here. And that hardly helped my mood.

I liked Jon, liked Pine, and didn't mind the other dogs in moderation, but having them all but standing at my elbows twenty-four seven was enough to drive anyone mad.

“You look like you need a vacation, Wolfy," Rebecca said, sitting down on the stool next to me in the kitchen.

It was evening now, and the kids had been put to bed. It was hardly dark out yet though, and I could still see the cluster of people down on the street.

“You can say that again, Babe," I gowned as I leaned back into her. I could feel her strong fingers digging into my pelt, wrestling with knotted muscles of my back. “I never wanted to get back into politics. We were doing so good for a while. Bounty hunting during the day, a touch of government work in the evening, and the two of us looking after the kids at night. Now all I do in government, and I've even pulled English in on it too." I craned my neck around to look at her. “How'd you managed to keep out of it? Everyone else I know seems to have been mired in the muck of politics."

She grinned and kissed my nose. “Just smarter than you. I know what really matters. My sanity." She paused for a moment and smiled. “Well, that and the kids."

I let out a long breath. “Yeah, the three of you are what's important. But yet you're getting the least of my time."

She shrugged. “We're used to it."

A growl escaped my lips. “But it's not right. I haven't had a full day to spend with you and the kids in over a month."

I winced as her fingers hit a sore spot, it melted away a moment later as she teased it apart.

“Well, you're the City Administrator, aren't you? Tell them you're taking a day off. It's not a crime."

I grinned. “Yeah, but what good would it do us? It's no better here with all the reporters on the street."

“Mate, I'm not hearing any more of it. You're coming to my place."

I hardly even gotten the words out of my mouth. The moment I'd mentioned vacation English had his mind set.

“Your little terrors haven't even seen my place yet. Gods, Mate, I doubt they've ever even seen the countryside. My place. This weekend. End of story."

Do I have to say what a joy it was to get away from the city?

Not that it was easy. It took Rebecca and I hours to pack everything. Suddenly I was longing for the days that the two of us could just pick up and leave at a moment's notice with nothing more than her jacket.

Not so much now. I was only glad that English dropped by to help us carry everything.

Pine was a bit put out when I told him, in no mean words, that he wasn't joining us. He was still a bit put of from allowing Brian through that I loosened up and told him that he had the next couple of days off too.

Getting out the apartment without the media hounding us was a production, but not so much as you might imagine. Anything can be easy when you've got enough police dogs to keep people at bay.

And the fact the force put on a show of pushing the crowd away from the front door as English, Rebecca, I, and the kids slipped out the back? It was almost too easy.

It was only a few dozen blocks before the highrises began to drop away on either side of us and began to be replaced by single story homes. They they were replaced by closely placed lots, then sparely spaced estates.

Then, about a half an hour's walk later, we found the turn off to English's home.

(Thanks to ziusuadra for pointing out a spelling error.)