Bathed in the light of "Command Central", Dante Andersen was a man in his element. His fingers flashed across keyboards like a crazed pianist, keying data so fast that he would often fill up the keystroke buffer before it had a chance to spit out the commands. Within seconds, he had tapped into the Pitfall satellite network brought up the ones trained on Rowena’s location. While he was no dedicated "hacker", Dante knew his way around computers, he had doors into many systems, and he had friends in all kinds of places.

Truth be told, he was glad Equinox had called. It had been awhile since he’d had a challenge, and there were some things he’d wanted to test out.

Come to think of it, the little weasel probably already knew that.

Still, he’d been hired to do a job (even if he had yet to receive payment, but in their long association, Equinox had yet to stiff him on a bill) and a job was what he was going to do. A click, tap, tap, shifted the focus of one of the screens to a single rooftop, where three figures stepped out. The Pitfall telemetry satellites immediately locked onto the targets and sent target/acquire signals to every gunship within the area. Pitfall agents converged on their location with the precision of a Swiss-made clock.

By the looks of it, Rowena and her party were surrounded. Dante knew better, having seen all three of them in action before. Throwing modern tactics on its head, the trio went to melee combat, disrupting the standard flow of the CQB combat-trained Pitfall counter-terrorist unit. Rowena’s sword flashed and she was in constant motion, firing well-timed shots at key targets every time she paused. Wind was a pinball, moving from one end of the roof to the other in single leaps and taking out men with jackhammer blows. Leopard, was a juggernaught, methodically moving from man to man and blasting them with titanic hammer-blows.

A second chopper appeared on the edge of the telemetry screen, which was immediately flagged with a Friend/Foe query, and now Dante stepped in. As Pitfall computer’s search engine raced through its identification algorithm, correlating the data with the Pitfall Watch database, it correctly assigned the helicopter as Foe – Sidewinder. Unfortunately for the Pitfall agents, Dante had already set up the piggyback for the signal, and as the computer fed the information to the Pitfall assault teams, it changed the identifier for every airborne target in the area to Foe – Sidewinder.

In short, anything in the area that was more than five feet off the ground – every bird, leaf, cloud, and commuter jet - was now considered a hostile target. Even worse, Dante’s program also triggered the automated defenses, putting them into a cover-fire test phase. The weapons simultaneously erupted into extended fire modes, aiming not to kill, but to confuse anyone foolish enough to remain in the air.

As a last favor, Dante fed an exit route – the only air path relatively clear – to Sidewinder. Having earned his paycheck for the day, Dante smiled, cracked his knuckles, and propped his feet up, enjoying the show.

#

In one of their rare moments of complete levity, Dr. Lothario Algernon once described Brandon Logan as an International Man of Mystery, and not for the reasons inspired by the movie of the same subtitle. No, Lothario was commenting on Brandon’s fashion sense – something that the good doctor at once admired and admonished. Take today, for instance. As he crossed the threshold of Fortune house, Brandon had the "international" part down pretty well.

The suit was an Italian design, made of 100% wool from Israel and assembled in Pakistan. The shirt was Egyptian cotton, made in Vietnam. The tie was Chinese silk, hand-made in Taiwan. The shoes were of Swiss design, made from Spanish leather and cobbled in Mexico. Even his PDA/cell phone, an original design by the American-born Dante Andersen from parts created in Japan, Amsterdam and other places not marked on any official map.

As far as the "mystery" part, Brandon had that in spades. His cover identity, "Edwin Quentin Knox," had been with him for so long that he’d often forgot his own name; and most people thought that Mr. Knox was the real person and that Brandon Logan was a decoy persona. Secrets were his stock and trade, and he bought and sold them on a regular basis.

Speaking of secrets…

"Quentin Knox," the woman said, voice oozing with sensuality and venom. Blue eyes flashed with venom while her black hair flared behind her like a cape as she stomped to him. A gang of four leather-clad street rats followed closely, glowering and posturing, but otherwise staying behind her.

Brandon’s bodyguards stepped closer to him, hands shifting uncomfortably close to their shoulder holsters as he stepped forward. He flashed her the Logan Smile™, and said, "I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been scowled at. To what do I owe the pleasure, Olivia?"

The scowl deepened. "You know exactly why I’m here."

"As a matter of fact, Ms. Lobo, I do not. Would you care to…?"

"Rowena Logan. She took out one of my men in the States along with his support crew, and then killed the men I’d assigned to deFaria. I want an explanation and I want one now."

"I’m certain that I have no direct connections to her activities," Brandon deadpanned.

"No connections? She’s using your contacts, your supplies, has been trained by one of your chief enforcers…"

"Marcus Simmons did work for me back in the Archer days, but is and has always been an independent contractor." He paused, just long enough for her to take a breath, before adding, "I hear that information is your game, Olivia. Perhaps you need a few pointers?"

"You-you-you…" Olivia sputtered. "Maybe we just need to take this to Don Fransisco. He’s your sponsor, isn’t he?"

"Sort of, but he’s out of town. I have him on speed dial, however. Shall we give him a call?" Brandon reached for his cell phone.

Olivia frowned. "Fine. You win this round, Knox, but this isn’t over." She turned on her heels and shouldered her way through the street rats, who tossed looks of disgust and pseudo-intimidation over their shoulders before following suit.

Brandon’s bodyguards breathed a collective sigh of relief. For his part, Brandon did his best to keep the smirk from his face as he continued his swim in the shark tank.