With These Eyes (28 page)

After what seemed like an eternity to Ryan, a
completely transformed Isabelle reemerged from the windmill's
bathroom. The shower had washed away the marks that a thousand
kilometers of travel had left embedded in her hair and face. The
warrior looked the lady she truly was. Where Isabelle’s one-piece
suit of armor had hugged her athletic body's every nuance, was now
an elegant light-blue evening gown flowing around her like a
pristine river. The brilliant blue and green coloring of her eyes
was repeated in subtle strokes of her make-up. Ryan had not seen
Isabelle outside of the work environment. Despite his crush, he had
never been aware of how beautiful she looked in formal attire.

"You ready?" Isabelle asked on her way to the
door. Left speechless by her stunning beauty, Ryan held up an
intricately knit, brilliant-white body length coat and helped
Isabelle into it. She flanked Ryan and as they headed out the door
she smilingly commented.

"You have a good eye for what's
beautiful."

32 TASHA STORMS BERLIN

The moon was still almost full. The sky had
cleared shortly after the Autobahn disaster drew in rescue crews
from hundreds of kilometers away. The multi-lane highway was closed
in both directions to carry the unstemmed flow of ambulances to and
from the viaduct. Tasha's platoon had found their way across the
valley, at its bottom the destroyed water bottling plant, above a
sea of blood and metal.

An Apophis rescue helicopter had plucked an
only slightly injured Tasha from the snow bank on the mountainside
and reunited the Commander with her troops. A constant reminder of
her defeat to Tasha and those around her, several stick-on bandages
marked the hunter's head from her impact with the mountain. The
complicated electronics and liquid-crystal display in Tasha's
helmet had shattered and left her wounded where she should have
been protected. Tasha occupied her usual spot in the surveillance
room onboard the spy truck. The high-pitch sound of the engine’s
turbocharger could be heard from hundreds of meters ahead as its
multiple high-beam headlights and blue emergency lights cut through
the night. Like a snowplow, the cone of flashing light pushed
traffic to the right. Leading the convoy of her platoon, the
wounded warrior stormed towards Berlin to deliver the lethal blow
to her opponent.

"Ma'am, satellite search pinpointed her
license plate."

A birds-eye view of the windmill and its
driveway filled the main viewer. The license plate of Isabelle's
motorcycle was highlighted yellow. Tasha's eyes wandered to the
digital map: Less than 30 kilometers between her and the windmill.
Her unusual convoy had reached Berlin's outskirts.

Like Don Quixote and her 24 Sancho Pansas,
Tasha stormed towards the windmill, to defend what was dear to her
against the ominous giant - Isabelle. Her blood-lust and ultimately
her own fear were what brought Tasha to cast aside any
consideration for others and see only darkness in Isabelle's
actions. There she was on the satellite view: Isabelle, followed by
Ryan walking out of the windmill's front door. "So she did have
help after all." Tasha thought what a pity it was that she had to
destroy Isabelle. While she watched Isabelle lead Ryan to his car,
a sliver of empathy entered Tasha's mind. She almost admired how
clever Isabelle had been in evading her. Tasha thought under
different circumstances, she might have found a lot in common with
her opponent.

Ryan and Isabelle approached the driver's
side door together. He moved between Isabelle and the car. When
Ryan reached for the handle, she realized, the door wasn't opening
for her. With a disappointed look, Isabelle walked around to the
passenger side.

"I'm sorry," said Ryan.

He ran around the other end of the car and,
drawing from his knowledge of chivalry, opened that door for his
distressed damsel. Isabelle just smiled and sat down. Soon, the two
of them were on a short journey to
Schloss Sanssouci's
main
entrance, which laid only a short drive away.

Ryan responded to Isabelle's obvious disdain
of the passenger side. "We're trying to blend in, a lady is
driven."

"And who made up that rule?"

"I don't know, some guy, I guess."

The car approached the road to the palace. A
group of protesters toting signs that accused Apophis of killing
people with the flu vaccine had been blocking the way. Police in
riot gear were brutally clubbing the protesters to the ground and
loading the moaning bodies into several transports. Isabelle
recognized the vehicle that had zoomed past her at the windmill.
One of the policemen saw Ryan's expensive car and gave an order
over his radio. The nature of his call became apparent when the
water canon parked curbside powered up and its mixture of water and
mace blasted a passageway through the group. The policeman saluted
the car as Isabelle and Ryan passed through. The ornament on the
hood of Ryan's dark upper class car seemed like a crosshairs to
him. The two took their place in a long line of cars, all of the
same brand. The convoy followed a long cobblestone driveway.
Ancient oak trees lined both sides of the road like wooden
guardians. Isabelle and Ryan had reached the end of the line. Two
sentries, dressed like royal servants from the 1700s approached the
car from either side. Ryan depressed a button and his window rolled
down. The sentry held a small electronic device that looked like a
computer phone up the car. Ryan placed his index finger on the
screen, his name and likeness appeared.

"Thank you, Mr. Kensington."

The sentry opened Ryan's door while his
colleague let Isabelle out of her side of the car. Ryan came around
and offered his arm to Isabelle, she graciously hooked through.
Flanked by royal guards, the beautiful couple walked towards the
palace entrance.

A moment too late, Tasha and her army of
darkness rolled into the area. She angrily watched Ryan and
Isabelle slip from her grip.

"Surround the palace. We'll strike as soon as
they leave."

Most of the platoon's cars swarmed out in a
circle around the complex. Troopers not driving a vehicle jumped
out and mixed in with the population in various disguises. A
Trooper dressed as an organ grinder set up on the sidewalk. Another
was offering cigarettes and mini-bottles of liquor for sale. Others
did what they could to blend in, pretending to be joggers and
protesters. One Trooper disguised as a homeless man set up a
telescoping cardboard-shelter on the green across from the
protest.

Two of the platoon's cars rammed into each
other at the bottom of the hill below the palace. With the skill of
a precision driver, one of the two cars pushed the other over the
edge of the road and sent it sliding down a small ravine. The
command post thundered up to the scene of the fake accident to
stage a rescue operation. With its emergency lights flashing
brightly in all directions, the heavy-rescue truck allowed Tasha to
block one side of the road and keep control over the traffic that
trickled past.

The main screen of the command post was
filled with a night-vision satellite image of Sanssouci palace and
its surrounding streets. The cell phone I.D.s from each of her
covert soldiers of misfortune, formed a circle around the compound.
Another screen showed intercepted emergency calls from members of
the general population who saw the accident outside. Isabelle and
Ryan disappeared from Tasha's view as they entered the palace's
main entrance. A feeling of slight relief filled Tasha about the
fact that Gene had broken off his plans and was missing from his
own coronation. It would have been an even greater defeat, had
Isabelle managed to come face to face with Gene.

Isabelle and Ryan had entered the palace's
ample foyer. An environment of splendor and wealth surrounded them.
A brilliant chandelier below the large rotunda illuminated the
palace's entry with what must have been a thousand candles. Its
warm flickering light gave off a sense of history. Society members
in tuxedos and elegant gowns were milling about. Classical music
emanated from a set of double doors that lead to the gardens, where
the ball was in full swing. Ryan and his stunningly gorgeous date
stepped onto the terrace that overlooked the lavish gathering.
Seven tiers of well-manicured gardens lead down to a plaza. The
fountain at the center of the paved area below glistened against
the starry winter sky. Staged in front of the fountain was a
philharmonic orchestra. Several couples were dancing to the music
of Strauss. Servants dressed for a royal court were serving meat
and farm-raised sea food from every continent, one on each
tier.

Isabelle descended the long set of stairs
that lead down the middle of the terraced gardens to the dance
floor, Ryan in tow - a few steps behind. The orchestra played the
first few bars of one of the waltzes from Strauss'
Stories From
the Vienna Forest
. Ryan looked Isabelle in the eyes.

"Shall we?"

Isabelle graciously accepted, and carried
herself like royalty on her way to the parquet with an ecstatic
Ryan. The orchestra filled the night with the sound of a
magnificent waltz.

Isabelle and Ryan danced in front of the
fountain, surrounded by other couples, as if they have been born
into that kind of life.

33 LIONEL

It was at this very moment that an event on
the other side of the globe would jeopardize Isabelle's will to
continue her quest.

Troopers had been the only pedestrians in her
father's neighborhood. Armored patrol cars and an occasional morgue
van could be seen driving through the streets around Lionel's
house. The effects of the bio-engineered disease that the Troopers
had injected into his body had reached their final stage. Lionel
was on his living room couch. A woolen blanket woven in native
Alaskan patterns covered his sweaty and shivering body. A tea set
and a collection of herbs on the table before him bore witness to
his unsuccessful attempts to flush out the deadly organism. He knew
Isabelle didn't heed his advice to avoid a fight with Apophis, but
for him it was too late. A bamboo frame on the side table held a
photo of Isabelle at a formal function. In the picture, she was
accepting her first journalism award. The picture was taken the
year after Lionel had made her news director of his three Alaskan
television stations. It was the proudest moment of his life after
teaching her the important role journalists played as society's
watchdogs. Lionel had always emphasized to his daughter the
responsibility bestowed upon their craft to independently keep the
people informed of the meddling of industry and government. Bearing
a responsibility so great, theirs was the only profession whose
conduct was specifically protected by the Constitution in its very
First Amendment.

He knew that against his better advice,
Isabelle was risking her life on a quest for her biggest story, the
real truth that no one told anymore. Lionel picked up the picture,
he could feel his daughter's love for him was what had really sent
her on her mission. Despite the discomfort the disease was causing
him, a smile came to Lionel's face. He had accomplished what he
sought in this lifetime. His offspring had gone to fight darkness
and he had been able to give her some of the tools she needed to be
victorious in this most difficult of battles.

His final breath left Lionel's laboring
lungs. His hand released the picture, letting it drop to the carpet
by his feet. His body slumped over as his spirit returned into the
ether from which it came.

In Spitsbergen, Tonati had been keeping Fuji
company by the fireplace. The puma's head perked up. His role in
the family had been a very spiritual and mystical one. Tonati never
acted much like most cats his size. Since he had been a cub by
Isabelle's side, Lionel had noticed the puma never needed to be
trained or given rules. He had spent many sleepless nights
listening to Tonati's heartbreaking cries. To maintain a license to
house a live puma, the State of Alaska had given the family several
provisions. Tonati had to be kept on a chain during the day and put
in an escape-proof cage overnight. Lionel remembered the loss of
freedom caused the cat such physical pain, he was worried Tonati
wouldn't live past the first summer. Tonati never acted angry or
even roared but became sad instead. Isabelle and Lionel allowed
Tonati to roam freely, he had always understood the importance of
staying out of the public's eye. At first, Lionel had been worried
about the damage a wildcat might do to a home. He soon found out
about the puma's superior intellect when Tonati acted responsible
and considerate with furniture and carpet. He had made the cat part
of the family and Tonati treated the house like his home, never
damaged a single priceless rug, painting or curtain like most would
expect. Tonati had an amazing ability to sense Isabelle and her
moods, there was a spiritual connection that Lionel and Isabelle
had shared with Tonati. With the death of Lionel, some of his
spirit that had always looked out for Isabelle continued on in
Tonati and grew stronger by the hour. Tonati had carried some of
that spirit since his birth, the effects quickly manifested when
the family noticed the puma and Lionel shared many habits. Both
liked to only eat in their designated dining areas, neither would
consume a whole meal in the kitchen. The two even shared their
dislike for the color yellow, despite the fact that Tonati's vision
was said to be mostly in blues. Isabelle had learned early on to
keep a clean house as the cat refused to enter a messy room, much
like Lionel.

As Lionel's lifeless body remained slumped on
the couch, a red light on the wireless bracelet illuminated. It
notified the Apophis Vaccine Troopers of his demise.