Chapter 1 - "Once More Unto the Breach"

The mysterious man known only as Mister Frost sat silent behind his huge ebony desk.  His hands folded neatly atop the large expanse of his torso, he carefully studied the computer terminal before him.  He reread the last line of text.

"According to accounts, Subjects 1007 and 1008 were taken into the custody of Client 23 at approximately 1900 hours, Zulu time, 31 December, 1998.  For reasons as yet unclear, Client 23 did not terminate Subjects immediately, but instead brought them to a celebration at 30 Rockefeller Center.  No further information until late 1 January, 1999, when Client 23's remains were found in the bottom of an elevator shaft at the previous address.  Whereabouts of Subjects 1007 and 1008 are still unknown."

The cursor blinked just after the period, waiting.  Frost shook his head, and the slightest smile touched his cold features, then vanished as the intercom gave a soft buzz.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"Sir," came the tinny reply of his assistant, "Clients 61 and 62 have arrived."

"Send them in."  Frost turned towards the computer.  "Save and close," he ordered, and the record vanished.

With a quiet hiss of machinery, the ornate bookcase at the end of the room began to swing open.  The first figure through the door was a tall young man of broad build and dark hair.  He wore a dark, severely cut, but expensive suit, and took in Frost and the rest of the lavishly appointed room in a single pass.  Stepping in afterwards and taking a place beside him was a slim young woman, dressed as expensively as he.  She brushed back a lock of blonde hair as she nodded to her companion.  Walking almost in unison, they strode to the two tall leather-lined chairs before Frost's desk, and sat.

Frost nodded to each in turn.  "Ms. Dennison... Mr. Musante... may I offer you anything?"

"A challenge."  The reply was curt, and her tone allowed little room for doubt that Tanya Dennison was a person accustomed to getting her way.

Having seen such behavior so often, Frost was unfazed.  "Quick to the point as always, Ms. Dennison.  Very well, then."  He opened the desk drawer and removed a pair of diskettes, sliding them across the surface of the desk.

Marcus Musante's eyes narrowed as he took the disks.  "We won't need a second copy, Mr. Frost- we'll be hunting together as always."

"Oh, I expected as much," said Frost.  "But as that situation is a unique situation, so is your new quarry."  He turned the thin computer monitor towards them.  "Computer, display records for Subjects 1007 and 1008."

A pair of pictures appeared, of another young man and woman.

"A tandem hunt?"  Tanya leaned forward, studying their faces.

Frost nodded.  "A perfect arrangement, wouldn't you agree?"

Marcus nodded in return.  "How long have they been running?"

"Two weeks."

Tanya raised an eyebrow.  "Two weeks?  I thought your traditional head start was three days."

"It is," Frost replied, his voice only just staying even.  "You are not the first to hunt this pair.  Your predecessor was unable to take them."

"And why not?"

Frost paused a moment, considering a more delicate answer, then decided against.  "They killed him."

"You're serious?" asked Marcus.

"Completely.  Client 23 was able to track them, though not without some difficulty, and had them in custody.  Unfortunately, he decided to celebrate the capture, and walked into a dangerous situation.  The Subjects took advantage of his weaknesses and dispatched him."

"How?"

"Client 23 took the quick way down a 40-story elevator shaft."

Shaking her head, Tanya sighed.  "Tragic.  How stupid of him."

"I caution you not to underestimate these two," said Frost.  "They are extremely resourceful and intelligent."

Marcus leaned back against the thick cushion of his chair.  "How often does this happen, Frost?"

Frost tapped his fingers on his desktop.  It was obviously not his favorite subject.  "Very seldom.  The hunters almost to a one have access to greater resources and information than the subjects, and are better equipped.  But occasionally we will have a runner who is former intelligence or military, making them much more dangerous.  In fact, some of our clients specifically demand such prey.  It has happened that the prey are _too_ dangerous." He paused.  "But as I said, it is an extremely rare occurrence."

The idea of it hung heavy in the air during a long moment of silence.  Finally, Marcus spoke up.

"So I take it the fee will be half a million for the pair?"

The older man blinked twice, forcing himself from his thoughts.  "That's correct," he said finally.  "The decryption codes for those files will be sent just as soon as the funds are deposited."

Marcus turned to Tanya.  "What do you think?"

Her eyes remained on Frost as a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.  "You admire them, don't you, Frost."

Frost's first answer died before it could be voiced.  He nodded.  "They're quite exceptional, these two.  Client 23 was one of the most able hunters I've ever known.  It seems they met him twice, face-to-face.  The first time, they maneuvered him into an arrest.  The second time, he didn't survive the meeting."

Tanya rose.  "Then it seems they're to meet their match."  She glanced at Marcus, who came to his feet.  "You have a deal, Mr. Frost," she said.  "You'll have the money by the end of the business day."  She offered her hand, and shook Frost's hand with a surprisingly strong grip.  Marcus shook Frost's hand as well, and the two were on their way.

Side by side, they walked purposefully down the sterile metal-lined hallway.  Marcus reached inside his jacket and extracted a tiny cell phone.  He selected the number of their business manager.

"I'm really going to enjoy this one," said Tanya, slipping on a pair of black and gold Versace sunglasses that were just a shade below gaudy.  "I really am."

Marcus smiled as he raised the phone.  "I can tell."

**********

Mary Patire and Eric Umali rushed across the parking lot, reaching the relative safety of the departures terminal sidewalk just as the rain began to fall in earnest.  Pushed by the crowds, they both squashed into a single section of the revolving doors and spilled into the terminal.

Newark International Airport was packed to the gills on this, one of the most busy traveling days of the year.  The din of restless children, emotional goodbyes and welcome homes and the sheer sound of so many people in one place was almost deafening.

Backpacks making them somewhat more impressive figures, they pushed and nudged their way over to the bank of flight information monitors.

Before he could read a single line, Eric found his eyes covered by Mary's hand.

"Pick a number between one and four," she said.

"Two."

"Zero or one?"

"Zero."

"Pick a number between one and ten."

"Five."

"Leave it to you to be so literal," Mary griped.  "Another one."

"Two."

"One more."

"Eight."

Mary let go, and Eric followed her other arm, to find her index finger on the second of the monitors.  She tapped the screen.  "Continental Flight 528, to Miami, Florida."

"Sunshine," he sighed happily, "warm weather... beaches."  They headed for the ticket lines.

"And me without my bikini."

Eric froze.  When Mary noticed and turned, his eyes had gone blank.  "Give me a second," he mumbled.

Mary groaned and waited, arms crossed, tapping her foot.  Finally, Eric shook his head.

"Is the testosterone surge over with?" she asked impatiently.

He exhaled.  "For now."

She turned her back on him and took a place at the end of the line.  "Men can be so useless," she tossed over her shoulder.

Eric followed.  "You brought it up."

"I expected better from you, you know."

"Did you really?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

TO BE CONTINUED...