Disclaimer: The She Spies and associated characters belong to MGM, probably others. F/X: The Series and associated characters belong to Rysher, Fireworks, etc. This was written for fun and not for profit.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004 09:12 AM PDT

D.D. Cummings was, by anyone's definition, bouncing with excitement. The other She Spies exchanged puzzled looks over her head as they entered ComCent to report to their boss. Shane eased further away from the younger agent. Whatever had D.D. that excited, she didn't want to touch. She smirked slightly as they came to bottom of the stairs. She also didn't want the fallout from D.D. getting on Cross's nerves which were already tense from working on the budgets,`an activity practically guaranteed to eliminate what little humor the former field agent possessed. She didn't know what he would do, but knew, whatever it might be, she probably didn't want any part of it.

"Good morning, boss," Cassie McBain smiled as they entered their boss's office, all the while hoping she wasn't being too cheerful. Windows darkened. Not a good sign, she thought. Maybe if he actually had real windows to outside that let in the sun... Nah, wouldn't make a difference. Just remember, be pleasant and, above all, show respect, that's the ticket to staying on Cross's good side right now... If he has a good side, that is. Quentin Cross was tall, slender and handsome with short, dark hair graying at the temples. An absolutely delicious looking mystery man who intrigued her, irritated her and was way too easy on her eyes. She also couldn't touch, not just because of the rules, but also because of the type of man he was. Their boss was too much of a suit for their tastes and, to the three convicts' minds, too rigid and conservative. Still, he treated them with consummate and innate fairness and honor, had stood up for them, stood by them, worried about them, protected them, reined them in when he considered it necessary, offered comfort when needed as well as graciously accepted their aide with genuine gratitude. How many guys do you know that you can say that about, McBain? Not too macho to accept help from women or to say thank you. That's a plus in my book. Of course, it wasn't like she actually had a real chance with him, a romantic life or any prospects on the radar. None of them did currently, though D.D.'s behavior was way too cheerful. Maybe Deeds has found a new guy?

"Ladies," Cross spoke without looking up from his monitor, his attention focused on his current priority. He could already feel the headache he had left with yesterday starting to return.

D.D. piped up, speaking at top speed, running her words together. "Mister Cross, if you don't have any assignments for us would it be all right for me to have the next few days off? Please!"

Cross finally looked up as he mentally slowed down her words. He placed his pen at a precise angle on the report he had been working and sat back, steepling his fingers. "Why?" He looked at the young blonde with a calm detachment, nothing of his bemusement showing on his face.

"Well, you see, I've been chatting with someone on the Internet and they're coming to L.A. and I really, really want to meet them so I thought I could maybe take a few days off and we could go around and do tourist stuff. Okay?"

"Whoa! Time out. You met this guy on the net?" Shane stared at her, forgetting about her private vow to keep quiet so as to not attract Cross's attention. "How do you know he's not a... an axe murderer or something?" The beautiful black agent shook her head in total disbelief.

Cassie pushed her blonde hair back and shook her head. "I've got to go with Shane on this one, Deeds."

"What? Did I hear right?" Duncan Baleu paused just outside the door of the office, looking at the three beautiful women. "Who's meeting an axe murderer? Why? Is that wise, Mister Cross? I mean the She Spies work unarmed and..."

"She is not an axe murderer! She's just somebody I met in a chatroom I've been going to and we hit it off. Okay? She's a friend. That's all."

"Who is she?" Cross asked before anyone else could interrupt.

"Simmoril, her handle is Simmoril."

"Simmoril? You're meeting Simmoril? Can I come? Please D.D., let me come with you!" Duncan's eyes were wide and his voice was pleading.

"Who's ... Simmoril?" Cassie asked.

"Simmoril is a hacker supreme, maybe even the best in the world, or that's the conjecture." Cross answered, smothering his desire to smile. He did have a reputation to uphold. "Simmoril has never, ever been caught."

Cassie and Shane looked at each other. "Then how do you know about her?" Shane asked, curious.

"I have my sources."

"Translation -- He's not sharing. Is it wise to meet another hacker, D.D.? We don't want you back in jail after all." And us with you, Cassie thought. After all, that was the deal - all three of them stayed honest and followed orders or all three of them got a Go Directly To Jail card, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, without any hope of another Get Out of Jail Free card falling their way.

"Ple-ase, we're not going to be hacking! We're going to go sight seeing and maybe do some shopping and talk and just get to know each other."

"I think we better come with you, just to be sure." Cassie said in a serious tone. "Make sure no one gives into temptation." She looked at both of their younger partners with a knowing look in her blue eyes.

"Yeah. I agree." Shane nodded decisively.

Cross cleared his throat, reminding them that they needed his blessing.

"With your permission, of course," Cassie paused for a second too long, "sir."

"Very well, ladies, Duncan, you have a week." He looked down at his desk and to his monitor. "Maybe I can get done with these budget plans." There was an unspoken 'if you're not around to bother me' hanging in the air. "No adventures, no trouble, no calls from the police." He looked coolly at each of his subordinates. "Is that understood?"

"Yes sir! Understood, sir!" Cassie immediately reached over to pull D.D. and Duncan out of the office before they could say something to make Cross change his mind.

"Close the door on your way out," Cross reminded, apparently already focused once more on the spreadsheet that was currently giving him his headache.

"Yes sir," Cassie quietly closed the door and sighed in relief.

"But I didn't get to say thank you," D.D. complained as Cassie and Shane hustled them up the stairs.

"Believe me, Deeds, Cross didn't want to hear another word." Shane responded.

"He knows you're grateful for the time off. I'm grateful for the time off. Let's just get out of here, before something comes up to stop us." Cassie added, before D.D. could turn around to go back downstairs.

"You're sure?" D.D. looked uncertainly up at the taller blonde. "Poor Mister Cross, stuck in his office with this really nice weather."

"D.D., how long have you been talking to Simmoril?" Duncan asked. "Simmoril was a legend at MIT!" He told the other spies.

Cassie and Shane dropped back to allow the computer geeks to talk. "Like Cross knows the difference?" Shane muttered to Cassie.

"He knows, he just has the discipline to ignore the temptation of playing hooky." Cassie paused to think about what she had just said. "I think. Maybe?"

The African American agent snorted. "Yeah, right. That man is not human. No. Way."

With the door closed and safe in the privacy of his office, Quentin Cross allowed the smile he had been holding back to spread across his face. He quickly checked the door and locked it. He put his phone on speaker and dialed a number. When he heard the phone picked up, he spoke before the person on the other end could say anything. "Hello Wizard, I heard your co-worker was flying to LA. Are you coming with her?"

There was a pause, then a surprised voice, very similar to Cross's own, save for the accent, spoke up. "Q? Is that you? Yeah, we're flying to L.A. tomorrow. Why?"

"Well, it just so happens, I'm living in Los Angeles now. Would it be too much to ask for us to get together for dinner?"

"That would be great!" The man on the other end said, then hesitated. "Uh, we're not going to end up in the middle of one of your missions, are we?"

Cross laughed. "No, I've retired from the field, Wizard."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He questioned softly, his tone sympathetic.

"I'll explain all about it over dinner. My treat, I owe you."

"I've got some news too. We'll swap stories over that dinner, but you don't have to pay for it, Q."

"I want to, Wizard. Call me after you get here and we'll make plans."

"This number?"

"No, use my cell. You still have it?"

"Yeah, I got it. Later, Q!"

"Goodbye Wizard, safe flight." Cross pushed the disconnect and sat back, the smile turning to a grin. It would be good to see Wizard again, Simmoril too, even if she had wanted to kill him the last time for getting them caught up in his mission. That had been purely accidental. He really had not wanted to get civilians involved and, as good as Wizard and Simmoril were, they were still civilians. He sat up straight and returned to the budgets. Maybe I can finish and turn it in before the weekend, then maybe Wizard and I can have some fun together while the ladies and Duncan are running around with Simmoril. The thought of that 'reward' waiting for him was enough for Cross to throw himself into the budgets with an enthusiasm he normally didn't feel for this particular task.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004 04:00 PM PDT

The She Spies sat on their patio, soaking up the late October rays and appreciating the cute guys on the beach. They were discussing their upcoming meeting with Simmoril.

Shane stared at D.D. in disbelief. "Now let me get this straight. We're suppose to meet Simmoril at Mann's Chinese Theatre at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon and we have no idea what she looks like or what her real name is. How are we suppose to find her among all the other tourists?!"

"We'll find her." D.D. pouted slightly. "I know we will."

"Oh yeah," Shane looked at Cassie, "I can see us now, 'Excuse me miss, are you Simmoril, notorious hacker supreme?'. We are like so busted! And then Cross will rake us over the coals. Maybe we should just turn ourselves in now." She paused thinking about it, then brightened. "Or we can get Duncan to ask, keep well back and let him get busted!"

Cassie smiled slightly at Shane's rant. "Maybe not. Deeds, does she know what you look like?"

"Uh," D.D. looked at her two friends, trying to read their expressions. "Well, yeah, sort of."

"What does that mean?" Shane shook her head and reached for her water.

"I described myself once in a chat."

"Uh huh, and how honest were you when you did it?" Cassie inquired.

"And how long ago was this?" Shane asked.

"Pretty close." D.D. shrugged and smiled brightly at the others. "It was when we first virtually met, about four months ago."

"Four months? And we're hoping she still remembers?" Shane muttered to herself.

"How close, Deeds?" Cassie arched one brow.

D.D. held her hands and squirmed like a little girl anxious to get out of some adult function... Or like someone with a guilty conscious. "I may have got my height and weight wrong."

Cassie smirked. "Uh huh and what else?"

"How long my hair is?" D.D. blinked innocently up at her two friends. "She can find us. I know she can."

"How?" Shane asked.

"Because she'll be looking for me. Won't she Deeds?"

"Yeah, kind of. Okay?"

"What does 'kind of' mean?"

"Well, the description was sort of a blend, you know? A little Cassie, a little Shane, a little me?"

"Hey, how did I get in this?"

"You're so confident and strong, able to handle anything, Shane. I wanted Simmoril to think of me like that too."

"So you exaggerated and didn't straighten her out?" Shane shook her head. "Maybe you should contact her and let her know what the real Deeds looks like, who really is a good person to know."

"It's too late," D.D. admitted with a wistful sigh. "I was going to explain when it started to look like we were really going to meet, but somehow the time was never right or Cross would call us off on a mission or Simmoril was busy with something and it just never happened."

Cassie stretched. "Why's it too late? She's not going to get here until tomorrow. Send her an email."

"She said she was going to be offline today, that there were a lot of things to get done before they left."

"Who is 'they'? Is someone coming with her?" Shane asked with a smile, trying to hide her sudden rise in anxiety.

"Huh? Oh, no, he's not coming with us. Simmoril said he has work to do."

"Who he? Give Deeds. Don't make me force it out of you!" Cassie grinned and acted like she was going to pounce on D.D. and start tickling.

"Her husband! She said she was coming with her husband." D.D. shifted, getting ready to move if it became necessary.

"Darn! Another guy out of the running," Shane commented with a pout.

"So, what does he look like?"

"Don't know. She never said, but she loves him soooooo much. Some of the things they do together are so totally romantic." D.D. sighed. "Wish I could find a guy like that."

"Don't we all!" Cassie agreed with her friends. All the good guys, the ones you could maybe live with for the rest of your life, seemed to be taken. They kept getting the jerks, the rats, the idiots, the self-centered macho guys, even out and out villains. Why couldn't they get somebody nice? Somebody who, at least occasionally, thought about them too. She sighed at the desperate state of their romantic lives. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted somebody who was dependable, somebody you could count on to stand by you, take care of you, was honest with you and didn't tell pretty little lies. She was really sick and tired of those pretty little lies just to get in bed with her. She was pretty sure the others were as well. She smirked. And somebody who won't ask questions and get jealous when we have to go out and save the world again! As hard as their current profession was on their dating, jail was a lot harder. At least now, they stood a chance which you wouldn't have in a prison cell. Yeah, bars really put a crimp on a Friday night date. "Well, ladies, here's to tomorrow and meeting the best hacker in the world." Cassie raised her water to the others.

"How do you know she's that good?" Shane quipped.

"Hey, the boss said it and he's usually right."

"Wish we knew how he knew, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Shane, believe me, I know." Cassie lay back and stared at the blue sky, wondering.

Thursday, October 28, 2004 3:39 PM PDT

"So," Shane peered over her sunglasses looking at all the camera carrying, picture taking tourists who were searching for the hand and footprints of their favorite stars, "any prospects?"

"I don't see anybody who looks like they're alone," Cassie answered as she settled her own sunglasses more firmly on her nose.

"DD?"

The spies and Duncan turned around to find a beautiful blonde who was about D.D.'s height looking at them. Or more specifically, looking at D.D. herself. How did she recognize D.D.? Cassie asked herself as she took in the athletic looking woman.

"Hi! Simmoril?" D.D. bounced slightly, not phased a bit.

"Angie Tyler," the blonde answered, "it's good to finally meet you, D.D.. Who are your friends?"

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Shane said, hands on her hips. "How did you know she was D.D.?"

Angie smirked slightly. "Just a little research, Ms...?"

"That's Shane, I'm Cassie and the guy doing the fish imitation is Duncan." Cassie watched Duncan clamp his mouth shut and swallow hard. He stood up straight and tried to look like he wasn't in awe of the newcomer.

"Hello, any friends of a friend as the saying goes." Angie nodded to the others and her smile widened. "So what shall we do with the rest of the day?"

After some discussion, it was decided to head for Griffith Park so they could get to know each other in relative peace and quiet. Cassie led the way to her car and listened with an amused expression as the three computer geeks talked about the relative merits of operating systems, browsers, chips and circuit boards. Shane rolled her eyes at the blonde agent and she had to smother a laugh. This was either going to be really interesting or really mind numbing boring, she couldn't decide which yet. They stopped to grab some drinks and snacks from a grocery store, then headed for the park.

Settled against the picnic table, Angie popped the top off her can of soda and took a sip. "So, what do you do for a living?"

The three spies shared a look, they hated lying to friends and family. Cassie spoke up. "We're caterers. Not really exciting or anything, but somebody has to do it and every once in a great while we get to meet a celebrity. Duncan is technical support for a small branch of a high tech firm." Which really isn't a lie, just its the Feds and not a private company, she thought to herself. "He can't really talk about it, trade secrets and all that type of thing. We catered his company's Christmas party and he and D.D. hit it right off." She finished casually. "What do you do?"

"Special effects," Angie answered. There was a gleam in her eye that made Cassie wonder if she knew more than was good for them. "Do you ever cater for films? Maybe you could do the one we'll be working on? I heard that the company they hired isn't very good."

"Uh, sometimes, but not very often. The bigger caterers usually get that type of job," Shane improvised with a shrug for her fellow agents.

"Or the producer's sister-in-law," Angie pulled a face as she remembered another job.

"Oh yeah!" Cassie nodded in agreement and smiled. "So about hubby... What does he look like? Is he cute?"

"Cute?" Angie grinned. "My angel of a husband is drop dead gorgeous." Her grin widened to a cat in the cream look. "He's Australian."

"Ooooh, accent! Nice!" Shane smiled wistfully at the thought. "Taken." She sighed unhappily.

"No boyfriends?" Angie asked, then looking at the one guy sitting across from her, "Or girlfriend?"

"Nope, nada, nothing." Cassie answered.

"Not even a blip on the radar," Shane agreed.

"I don't know. I think the boss likes Cassie," D.D. responded.

"Boss?" Angie quirked an eyebrow as the taller blonde shook her head. She thought she saw a wistfulness in those blue eyes that said Cassie wouldn't mind at all. "I thought you worked for yourselves."

"We do," Cassie answered, racking her brain for an answer. "DD is referring to Duncan's boss. We do so much catering for them, it sometimes seems like he's our boss too."

The New Yorker was puzzled. There was something going on here, but she wasn't sure what it was. "Well, if it's any consolation, just a few short years ago, I was exactly where you all are now." She smiled and it lit up her whole face. "Now I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world, at least for me, and deliriously happy. It can happen for you too, just when you least expect it."

"What was it like when he proposed?" D.D. asked, leaning forward.

"Actually, he didn't propose, I did," Angie smirked slightly, remembering the stunned look on her partner's face which had swiftly changed into a megawatt smile that could have run all of New York for a year or more.

"Guess you knew what you wanted, huh?" Shane nodded sagely.

"Wow," Duncan blinked, trying to imagine how he would feel if a beautiful woman ever proposed to him. Probably pass out or trip or something equally dorky.

"How long did you know each other?" Cassie asked. "How did you meet?" D.D. inquired at the same time.

"I've known him since I was eleven years old," Angie answered. "We met on a movie, Gangster Alley. My father was doing the special effects and he was working as a stunt man. Dad talked him into becoming his apprentice and the rest is history."

"Doesn't that make him a lot older than you?" Duncan asked with a puzzled look on his face. Why would such a beautiful woman marry an older guy?

Angie snorted. "Only about eight years, not that much older."

"So, he was nineteen? I didn't think you could do stunt work at nineteen?" Shane looked at Cassie, confused.

"I think his dad signed a permissions paper, but I'm not sure. Of course, he was a really good at stunt work because he has excellent reflexes and an almost perfect sense of timing."

Thursday, October 28, 2004 06:10 PM PDT

The lanky Aussie stretched and looked over at the hotel room's alarm clock. "I think I've done enough work for now, Bluey. Time to call Q!" He checked his PDA, then picked up the phone, dialing his friend's cell phone. "Q?" He smiled and punched the speaker phone button. "So about that dinner?"

The man on the other end of the line sounded slightly distracted. "Dinner? Oh yeah, how about Saturday night around seven? And would you please stop calling me Q, Wizard! I don't make gadgets for James Bond, that's more your line, and I don't come from another continuum."

Rollie laughed. "Only if you stop calling me Wizard." He paused a second. "Q."

"Okay, I'll make a deal with you Rollie. I won't call you Wizard unless I need to keep your identity hidden for some reason. Deal?"

"Always the secret agent. Deal, Quen." He smiled to himself. "Quen is okay, right?"

"Yeah, I can live with it, Rollie. Maybe I'll even call you Rol sometimes, like Angie does."

"Saturday would be great. I should have all the prep work for this movie done by then, but I don't know if Angie will be joining us. She's running around with somebody she met on the Internet, but you already seemed to know something about that." Rollie said, his curiosity evident in his tone of voice.

"Just let me know before hand. I was thinking we could have dinner at my place."

"Delivery?"

"Watch it! I can cook, I just don't have much call or time for doing it. This will give me an excuse."

"Sounds good, I'll bring some wine. White or red?" Rollie glanced at the small case of bottles sitting in one corner.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to and we have a good selection. We have a case of assorted vintages. It's a gift from our producer for 'coming to the rescue and putting up with a temperamental director'. That's a quote by the way. Jonesy really isn't that bad!"

Quentin laughed. "Red."

"All right, red it is. I'll give you a call after Angie gets back or more probably tomorrow, depending on how late she is. "

"That works," Quentin answered. "Let me give you my address. Will you be driving or taking a taxi?"

"Driving I think. Angie seems to be relying on her friend for transportation. She took the bus to Mann's today."

"Okay, I'll let the front desk know to let you park in one of the visitors' spots. You'll need to pick up a permit from them when you get here." Cross gave Rollie the address of the high rise where his apartment was located and the number.

Rollie whistled softly as he wrote the information down, making his robot dog bark. "Sounds like a nice place, Quen."

"It is nice," he acknowledged, "one of the perks of the job. Was that Blue I heard?"

"Yeah."

"Hi Blue! You being a good dog?"

"Arf! Arf!" Blue's tail started wagging at the greeting.

"Maybe I should bring Bluey for dinner!" Rollie laughed. "I think he may burn out his tail motor if he wags it any faster."

"I'll admit I wouldn't mind seeing the little guy again, but whatever works best for you, Rollie. Maybe I can get in a rematch while you're here!"

"You're a real glutton for punishment, Quen. Blue still remains undefeated at chess."

"There's always a first time. Look, I've got to go so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure thing, mate. I'll call you after I get an update from Angie on her plans."

Rollie disconnected the call and looked at his pet. "You want to visit Quen, Blue? Huh? How about it Blue boy?" He chuckled as Blue barked excitedly. "Well, we'll see what Angie has to say."

Saturday, October 30, 2004 08:53 AM PDT

Angie had said she didn't want to have dinner with Quentin because she had plans with her new friends. If she was being truthful with herself, which she also didn't want, she wasn't ready to apologize for blowing up at the agent for something that really wasn't his fault. But I'll have to do that before we go home, she admitted silently. It was the least she could do for Rollie, feeling guilty about him working while she was playing. Of course, he did say I could play. She waved as Cassie pulled up to the curb in front of their hotel. "Hey!"

"Hey girlfriend! Ready for some cruising?" Shane asked from the front passenger seat.

"More than ready," Angie answered as she scrambled into the middle section, to sit next to D.D.. "Where did you get the van?" She was happy to see the larger vehicle. It would be much more comfortable for the longer day trip they had planned.

Cassie smirked. "From Duncan's company."

Their visitor turned to look at the young man sitting in the back. "You're not going to get in trouble for this are you?" She really didn't want to get him in trouble with his boss. He was a nice guy and seemed to have a crush on all three women. Of course, if Rollie saw the way he's looking at me, Duncan would be finding little 'surprises' for the next year. Or maybe not, Rollie would probably sympathize with the shy geek.

"Oh, no, no, it's fine." Duncan bobbed his head. "We cleared it with the boss."

"Yeah, he was in a good mood", D.D. added. "I think he finished early with the budgets or something. He was in a really good mood."

"Hey, think he's getting some action later?" Shane asked with a wicked grin. "Mood was way too good to just be from the budgets."

Cassie frowned at the thought that Cross might actually have a date. Her eyes flashed, then she pushed down the green-eyed monster. Just because I can't get a date, it doesn't mean I should begrudge Mister Cross having one, she told herself sternly. "You did say he isn't human, Shane. Maybe he gets off on completed budgets."

"Hey! He's a nice man. He let us, uh, Duncan have a week off so we could run around with Angie," D.D. defended their absent boss, "and let us borrow the van."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have to talk Rollie into going with us at least one day." Angie said. "Maybe we could go to Universal Studios or Disney or Knotts. He'd like hitting an amusement park."

"What? No beach?" Cassie tossed over her shoulder as she pulled on to the expressway heading south.

"Hmm... Beach. Surfing!" The blonde special effects artist smiled. "That could work too, if we can find him a surfboard and wetsuit."

"Hey, surfing? A New Yorker?"

"He's Australian! Yes, he surfs, not often, but he manages to do okay."

"I wish I knew how to surf. I can't seem to stay up on the board," Duncan admitted.

"Maybe Rollie can give you some pointers. You can do a little of that male bonding thing." Cassie responded.

October 30, 2004 06:45 PM PDT

The friends had decided to stop in Venice to eat dinner on the way back up the coast. After checking their options, they picked an Italian restaurant near the beach. "Oof, I'm stuffed." Angie said, patting her firm stomach when they came out. "That was absolutely delicious, but way too much food."

"Yeah, I think we could have ordered one full meal and split it," Shane said. "There would have been plenty for all of us."

"As it is, we've got tomorrow's lunch or dinner." D.D. held up the doggy bags.

"How about we go for a walk and look around?" Angie suggested. "Hit a few gift shops and work off some of these calories."

"That works for me," Cassie nodded. Agreed, they put the doggy bags in the van and headed down the street to see what they could find.

October 30, 2004 06:57 PM PDT

Rollie smiled as Quentin opened the door and admitted him into his apartment. "This is really a nice place, Quen." He looked around, taking in the understated elegance and clean lines of the furniture.

"Thanks, I like it."

"Oh, the wine." Rollie held out the two bottles he had brought with him.

"Australian?" Quentin smiled at his friend, his eyes laughing, as he accepted them. "Prejudice or patriotism?"

"Neither, since I didn't buy it. Not my fault that the producer sent us Australian wines. They're good ones though."

"Yes, I can see that. I thought you were just bringing a red?" the American agent asked as he examined the second bottle. Rollie shrugged. "This dessert wine will go well with what I have fixed."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." Rollie grinned. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"How about tossing the salad?" Quentin suggested as they went into the kitchen. He already had the dining table set with silverware, plates, wine and water glasses. "So what's new with you and Angie? It's been what? A couple of years since we saw each other?"

"Longer than that, at least three, maybe four years," Rollie answered as he tossed the fresh greens of their salad. "Well, the biggest news is Angie and I got married!"

Surprised, Quentin Cross almost dropped the fork he was using to check the steaks. "To each other I hope!"

"Yeah."

"Congratulations, Rollie! I'll have to give Angie a kiss when I see her. It's about time you two got together."

"Why does everybody say that when we tell them?" Rollie muttered to the salad. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "We would have invited you to the wedding, Quen, but I couldn't reach you."

"That's okay, Rollie." Quentin answered. "I would have been busy on missions then."

"You look tired. Are you okay, Q... Quen?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Finally got through with the budgets for next year. I cannot tell you how happy I was when the committee said it was approved Friday." Quentin checked the loaf baking in the breadmaker. He straightened up, deciding to get it over. "I, uh, I was shot on my last field assignment." He glanced at Rollie, wondering how much he should or could say. "It was an inter-agency mission and I was in charge. One of the other agents turned and wanted me to go with her. I wouldn't so she pulled her gun. We fought over it and it went off. Got me right below the knee. The other agents heard the shot and came running just in time to stop her from killing me. She... died. I really screwed that one up."

"It wasn't your fault, Quen. You couldn't have known."

"I should have known though!" Cross exclaimed, his tone bitter.

"How? Had this agent given anybody any reason to suspect she would turn?" Rollie shook his head. "Quen, you can't know everything, just like I can't. I learned the hard way that I'm all too human. Angie got hurt in the process, I got hurt, but I finally learned it and I've stopped thinking I can prevent all the bad things from happening. Well, you're human too. You couldn't have known unless she did something to show it. Did she?"

"No, nothing." Quentin looked into Rollie's compassionate eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I... I think I loved her. I can't help but wonder if that blinded me to something, that it made me miss some clue." He gripped the edges of the kitchen counter. "I should have known better than to get personally involved, especially with another agent. We have rules about that very thing!"

"Rules don't control the heart, mate." Rollie put his hand on Quentin's shoulder and shook it slightly. "You said it was inter agency. Was she from your agency or one of the others?"

"Another one," he admitted.

"Aren't those rules about people from your agency?"

"We were on the same mission. We should have kept it professional."

"Quen, you can't control your heart with rules or logic. Even the American government has to admit that fact. Were you reprimanded for it?"

"No, but... Nobody knew if... How well my leg was going to heal... If I'd be able to work again. Maybe they decided that was punishment enough. They were right, too. I couldn't -- can't handle the demands of field work any more. My leg can't take it. I'm okay for basic backup, but..." He shrugged.

"Have you talked to anybody about this?"

Cross gave a short laugh. "They had me talking to plenty of psychiatrists and therapists while I was recovering. Yes, I've talked about it."

"No, I mean have you talked to your boss or your fellow agents or anybody like that. Have you asked what they thought? You always demanded one hundred and ten percent from yourself, Quentin. I think you're harder on you than your bosses ever were." Rollie said softly, his rich brown eyes full of sympathy. "I think you're being harder on yourself now than they want you to be. After all, you still work for them, right?"

"Yes, I'm a sector chief now." He rubbed an imaginary spot on the counter top, thinking. "Do you really think that I didn't... That they think I didn't screw up?"

"Do you think your boss is smart?"

"Yes, he is. He was one of the world's top agents in his prime, a real legend."

"The last time I checked, smart people didn't promote people who screwed up, that thing about rising to your level of incompetence be damned. Sector chief is a promotion right?"

Quentin smiled wryly. "Yes, it was -- is a promotion over field agent."

"Well, there's your answer. The only one who thinks you screwed up is you. Stop it and get on with your life and career. There wasn't anything anyone, including you, could have done to change things. If anybody is to blame, it's that agent. She crossed a line she shouldn't have. You and your fellow agents did what you had to do."

Cross sighed deeply, then stood up straight. "You're right, Rollie. I spent enough time convincing the one who killed her that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't have a choice under the circumstances. I guess it's time to take my own advice."

"You see, I always knew you were a smart man," Rollie's lips quirked slightly, "even if you are dumb enough to keep challenging Blue to chess matches."

"Ha ha," the American punched Rollie lightly in the arm and smiled. "Maybe we can do something together while you're out here. It's been awhile since I took some time off."

"What do you want to do?"

"How about head for the mountains on a couple of my motorcycles?"

Rollie nodded. "That would be fun. It's a little too cool for my taste for hitting the beach."

"But Rollie, you're in sunny Southern California!"

"Uh huh, that still doesn't make it warm enough for the beach though." Rollie paused as he heard his cell phone ring. "Excuse me, Quen, that is probably either my loving wife or a panicked employer."

Quentin nodded and turned to check the steaks again. Deciding they were done, he started moving them to a serving platter.

"Oh hey Ange, I was afraid our director was already having a fit. What's up?" The Aussie frowned. "What do you mean you've been cursed? You usually cuss back when somebody..." His brow furrowed as his frown deepened along with his bewilderment. "Ange..." ... "Angie..." ... "Angela! There are no such things as curses. You know that." ... "All of you?!" ... "Why do you think you have all been cursed?"

Quentin's own mood darkened once more as he listened to Rollie's side of the conversation. He carefully turned off his appliances, a sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that their plans for a pleasant evening had just been ruined. He went out to the living room to get his own cell phone and dialed a familiar number. "Miss McBain! What is this about a 'curse'? I thought I told you no trouble and no adventures!"

"Mister Cross?" Cassie looked at the other She Spies and Duncan with wide shocked eyes. "Curse? You did tell us that, but..." ... "We didn't do anything!"

"How did he find out about this already?" Shane hissed to D.D. and Duncan.

Angie lowered her phone and stared at Cassie with eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Cross? As in Quentin Cross?"

"Uh, yeah," Cassie admitted, puzzled by Angie's reaction. "Why?"

"Let me talk to him." Angie reached for the other woman's cell phone. "I'll call you back in a minute, Rollie," she raised her phone and said absently before she cut it off.

Rollie stared at his phone in surprise as he heard the dial tone. He shook his head and went to find Quentin to let him know that he had to leave. He did not believe in curses, but Angie seemed positive that she and her friends had been cursed by three witches. He just didn't have a real idea of why.

"Hello Angie. Congratulations on the wedding." Quentin said as Rollie stepped into the living room. He shook his head as Rollie's expression changed to surprise.

The special effects artist started putting two and two together and he was pretty sure the answer this time really was four. Quentin didn't have Angie's cell phone number, therefore he had to have called one of Angie's new friends. That meant that he knew one or all of them. Which meant... "Agents?" Rollie mouthed to his friend.

Quentin nodded as he pulled the phone away from his ear.

Rollie could hear his wife from where he was standing and winced. He walked over to Quentin and took his phone from him. "Angela Ramirez Tyler! Stop yelling at Quentin! This is not his fault and it isn't helping anything." He took a deep breath. "Now tell me exactly what happened."

"She knows Mister Cross?" Duncan asked, pointing at Angie and looking at the others, uncertain. He flinched as the blonde's voice rose along with her temper and shifted behind D.D. and Shane. "Ouch. That's not good. Is it?"

"I don't know," Cassie started as she listened to Angie reading Cross the riot act. She winced as she thought of his temper going up to join hers. "Oh boy. This isn't good. We are in deeeep trouble, guys."

"It's the curse!" D.D. exclaimed.

Shane and Cassie looked at her in shock.

"How else do you explain Mister Cross and Angie just happening to know each other so that now Mister Cross knows about the curse when Angie was calling her husband so Mister Cross wouldn't find out about the curse?"

"Rollie? Now look here, I am not..." Angie frowned as her husband fussed at her for yelling at Cross. She suddenly took a deep breath and visibly started to make herself calm down. "We were hungry so we stopped in Venice for dinner. After we finished, we decided to take a walk and browse some of the shops. There was this one place that looked interesting with fantasy figurines, candles, incense, books, toys and other stuff. We went inside to look around." She shook her head. "No Rollie, we were just looking."

"Her husband knows Cross?" The light suddenly dawned on Cassie and she turned to her co-workers. "Angie's husband must have gone out with Cross for dinner!"

"So when she called him..." Shane started.

"...Cross heard what he was saying and knew we were with her because we told him." Cassie put her hands on her hips. "It wasn't a date, at least not that type of date." She shook her head in disgust.

"Talk about bad luck," Shane muttered.

"Exactly!" D.D. said triumphantly. "It's the curse!"

"DD, I'm going to say this one more time. We are not cursed. Curses do not exist. Curses were created to take advantage of the, uh, human nature." Cassie swiftly decided against her original intention of saying 'the gullible, knowing that would just set them to arguing even more. She rolled her eyes at Shane. D.D., Duncan and Angie were as firmly convinced there was a curse as she and Shane were that there wasn't one. She saw Shane look around nervously. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who is convinced. "What happened after was... coincidence, that's all!"

"This older woman came down from upstairs and she looked really upset." Angie nodded. "She was dressed in a designer suit, very refined and sophisticated."

"Don't forget, she spoke with an accent," D.D. contributed. "One of the Scandanavian countries, I think."

Angie nodded at the other blonde. "Yeah, the woman had an accent. It sounded a lot like Dani's, but I can't swear to it, Rollie. They really weren't paying much attention to anybody else in the shop at the time. She left and they stood there talking." She sighed. "Yes, there were other shoppers there." She frowned. "No, they didn't curse anybody else. Like I said, they weren't paying attention to the rest of us, then all of a sudden -- BAM! One of the women who followed her down suddenly looked at us. She looked kind of surprised and muttered something to the other, then she said 'You should not be here!" and pointed her finger straight at us." ... "Yes, then the woman at the cash register glared at us and started chanting. It sounded like Latin, something about the devil and spirits." ... "I recognized a few of the words, they were similar to Spanish. The other two joined her in chanting. Their voices sounded really weird, kind of hollow. When they stopped the lights blinked out and came back on. The other customers looked spooked so we decided to get out of there." ... "When we got back to the van, the tires were flat." ... "No, that's not all! Cassie was going to call roadside assistance, but she couldn't get a signal. So I tried mine and I couldn't get a signal either." ... "We went to look for a public phone. When we walked past the shop, a flower pot suddenly smashed into the sidewalk right beside us." ... "No, none of us were hurt." ... "Yes, we were lucky not to get hurt, but there's more. We kept walking and a car that was backing up suddenly accelerated and swerved toward us. The driver barely managed to stop in time. He said the accelerator stuck and he couldn't control the car. It was like it suddenly developed a mind of its own! If it had gone straight back or even a little to the side, he would have hit a parking meter about three yards away from us." ... "Yes, I do believe him. He offered to call the police himself." ... "He did call a wrecker, said he didn't know what was wrong, but he wasn't going to take any chances and was going to get it checked out before he was driving it again." ... "We tried our phones again and still couldn't get a signal, so we asked him to call for us." ... "Rollie, when he tried, his phone was dead too!" ... "He told us there was a public phone in the pharmacy so we decided to go in there. When we did, part of some scaffolding on the next building came loose and swung down. We barely managed to jump out of the way." ... "No, too many things have happened for it to be a coincidence!" ... "How do you explain the guy's cell?" ... "Well, smarty, he managed to call his wife without any problems right after we left. Explain that!" ... "A couple who were in the shop when those women cursed us turned around and went the other way when they saw us. They didn't want to come near us." ... "Yeah, they went all the way around the block and got into a car a few shops down, instead of walking past us. I mean they didn't even cross the street, they literally went out of their way by going around the block to avoid us." ... "What else could it be? It really is freaking us out, Rol." ... "We decided to go back to the van and see if we couldn't get someone else to call someone for us. When we got there, the tires were fine, but we couldn't start it." ... "We decided to try the cells again. Cassie was going to call Duncan's boss, but they decided that he might get in trouble, so I said I would try to call you." ... "Yeah, that call went through without any problems." ... "I take it Duncan works for Quentin. Is he an agent?" ... "Oh, they're the agents?" Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the others. "Why did Quentin decide to involve me in their mission?"

Cassie, Shane and D.D. all started shaking their heads. "No! We aren't a mission. We're on vacation! Honest, Angie," D.D. babbled, "Mister Cross gave us a week off. Tell her guys!"

Cassie and Shane nodded. "What she said," Shane confirmed. "We really are on vacation."

"Yeah," Duncan chimed in, "the She Spies would never involve a civilian who wasn't already involved in one of their missions. Mister Cross would get really upset if they did."

Angie blinked. "She Spies? You have got to be kidding me!"

"She Spies, Quen?" Rollie asked Cross. "And here I thought you were the perfect gentleman."

Quentin shook his head. "I didn't name the program. I just convinced my superior to keep it active and let me take a shot at running it. I thought the ladies were too sharp to waste and that with the right handling, they could turn out to be some of our top agents."

"Are they on a mission?"

"No! Rollie, believe me, I would never have let them near Angie if they were on an assignment. Nothing was happening or planned when D.D. asked for the time off, so I gave it to them. Of course, if something had come up, I would have called them in, but I would not leave Angie in the middle of it. You know how I feel about that type of thing."

"Quentin says they were on vacation," Rollie told Angie. ... "Yes, I believe him." ... "Look, stay there, or better yet, is there some place near where you parked where you can stay until we get there?" ... "Bar? Okay, but try to stay out of trouble, sweetie. Quentin and I will be there as soon as we can." He looked at Cross, who nodded his agreement. "Nobody is putting a curse on my wife and getting away with it." ... "Yes, I do know what I'm going to do about it." ... "I think you don't want to know." ... "No, you don't." ... "Okay." ... "Got it. We'll be there as soon as we can. Keep your heads down!" Rollie turned off Quen's cell phone and handed it back to him. "Now, we're going to need some things before we head for Venice."

"What type of things?" Quentin asked, torn between amusement and concern.

"Bones, at least three, but preferably six," Rollie told him as he headed for the kitchen. He checked the steaks Quentin had been preparing and shook his head. "These won't do. Where can we get some? They need to be small," he cautioned, "but not too small."

"I get most of my meat, chicken and fish from a small family run butcher shop not too far from here," Cross told the Aussie. "They'll have lots of bones. They save them for their customers' dogs." He checked his watch. "They're closed now, but they live over the shop so I can ask the owner to get you some." I am not going to ask why you need them, he thought to himself, I want to be able to honestly say I don't know anything about it when the Chairman asks.

"Perfect. Get what you need," Rollie told him. "You drive. We'll get the bones and some things we've got at our hotel, then head for Venice. I'll work on the setup on the way."

"Right." Quentin went to his bedroom and swiftly changed, dressing in black just in case he had to do something covert. He expertly checked his weapon and placed it in its shoulder holster. He transferred his wallet, keys and badge to various pockets. He started to leave, then hesitated. He went to his bedside stand and pressed a tiny hidden switch. The door of a small, concealed compartment opened. He looked over the contents and removed a tiny set for lock picks, which he placed in an inside pocket hidden in the right sleeve of his jacket. He also took out a small knife in a black leather case and slid it inside his left boot. He stamped his foot to make sure it would stay in place. Satisfied, he rejoined his friend and they headed out the door.

Fetching Tomás from his home to open the small butcher shop hadn't taken a minute. Tomás Garcia had been puzzled, but if Señor Cross wanted his friend to get bones, then his friend would get bones. After all, he and his family were safe in the United States thanks to the Señor's timely intervention. He and his wife had their shop and his children had growing college funds so they would be able to attend any school they desired thanks to the agent. A few bones were a small price to pay. It wasn't as if Señor Cross would let them gift him with the meats he bought at their shop. The most they had been able to do so far was to make sure he got the finest cuts for his selections.

Quentin waited patiently as Rollie went up to his hotel room and fetched what he thought he would need. The Aussie quickly returned with two cases. He slid into the back seat and nodded at the American in the rear view mirror to head out. He opened one case, revealing Blue who started wagging his tail shortly after he was activated, barking happily at the man driving. "Hi Blue. I'm happy to see you too," he smiled at the little robot's enthusiasm and had to laugh when Bluey tried to get to the front seat.

"Enough of that, Blue," Rollie told his pet, "we've got work to do. Angie needs us." The robot growled softly at his master's serious tone and settled down in the floor to wait for orders.

Quentin drove in silence toward Venice, occasionally using the rearview mirror to try and see what Rollie was doing. Frustrated because he couldn't really tell, he focused on driving, not wanting to distract Rollie from his work and plans. He'd find out what the Australian was up to soon enough.

October 30, 2004 08:25 PM PDT

Rollie heard a muffled curse from Quentin and looked up in surprise. He froze as he spotted the vehicle coming toward them. Bloody great hell! A wrongway driver! Quen was preparing to dodge the threat when a glance in the rearview mirror, brought another oath to mind. Instead of swearing or swerving, he spoke to his friend in the backseat. "You better get ready, Rollie. We've got to stop this idiot before he kills somebody."

Rollie puzzled why Quen had decided they had to stop the driver, even as he worked on relaxing himself so the impact would not affect him as greatly. The temptation was to brace yourself, but that would only cause more harm than good. He glanced back to see if he could spot what had changed Quentin Cross's mind. His eyes widened as he spotted what Angie would call a mommy mobile right behind them. The thought of the precious cargo in the backseat of the small SUV was enough to make him agree with Quentin. "Too bloody right. Do it."

Knowing Rollie had spotted the same thing he had and agreed with his decision, took away one worry. Other worries nagged at Quentin, even as he shifted and prepared to intercept the approaching car. He just hoped Rollie didn't get hurt and that his leg didn't betray him. With that, he met the other car, not head on, but slightly off centered, hoping that his momentum was great enough to halt the other vehicle. His calculated trajectory would put the impact at the engine, to the right of the driver's seat, where the heaviest part of the car was. Fortunately, they were in his car and it had some of the same reinforcement that police pursuit vehicles did along with a few extras. The airbags, front and side, deployed with gratifying speed as the two cars collided. The mother behind them reacted with alacrity, braking as she saw the car immediately in front of her go into a skid. Antilock brakes and four wheel drive gave her enough control to keep her from hitting it or anything else. Vehicles behind her hit their brakes as well, the chain reaction going down the expressway, cars skidding and a few hitting each other. Not, fortunately, with the same force as two speeding vehicles colliding while going in opposite directions.

Rollie shook his head and looked with surprise at the spent airbag hanging beside him. He didn't think this model came with side airbags in the rear, not that he was going to complain about it. He should have known the American agent would have a few extras in his car. Quen! "Quen? Are you all right, mate?"

Cross suppressed the urge to groan, his bad knee screaming at him. "Yeah, I'm okay. How about you, buddy?"

"I'm fine," Rollie started, to be interrupted by a mew. "What? Blue! Are you okay, Bluey? Give me a bark." He reached over to set his robotic pet back on his feet.

"Arf!" Blue obliged, meowed again, then whined. He shook his head back and forth, as if he had a headache.

Quen turned and looked over the back of his seat. He was relieved to see the little robot looked intact, even if it was making odd sounds. He glanced to the front, past the deflating airbags and mentally started cursing again. He was pretty sure the large, overweight man weaving past was the driver of the other car. Experience told him the guy was either drunk or high, possibly both. With a sigh, he fought his way past the airbags. "Sir?" He spoke just as the man swung on another driver who apparently had decided to intercept him. Even though his opponent was both bigger and more fit, having a build like a linebacker, the man took him out with a powerhouse punch.

Rollie opened the rear door and watched in concern as the retired field agent limped forward to stand in front of the larger man.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Cross said quietly, a thread of steel running under the words. He stood straight and waited. There was no way the wrong way driver was going to back down or turn and he could not let him pass. Unfortunately, he also couldn't just shoot him. Sure enough, the man slurred an obscenity and swung at him. Quentin blocked the swing with his left arm. Ignoring the pain that had jumped through his arm, he swiveled and put his right elbow in the driver's solar plexus. Quentin felt satisfaction as the impaired driver went down like a house of cards. He shifted back, waiting to see if the man was going to get up and come at him again. You just never knew how someone was going to react under the influence. The man might be out for the count or he might be able to take the most brutal of punishment, not really feeling anything until whatever he was on wore off. In keeping with the way the evening was going, the guy stumbled to his feet again, taking another swing at Cross. Reacting with reflexes honed as a top agent in the field, Quentin grabbed the other's arm. He turned, twisting it behind his opponent's back, pulling it up at a brutally painful angle. He frowned as the guy kept struggling, ignoring the pain. If he kept going, his shoulder was going to be dislocated. Weighing his options, Quentin Cross let go. With a grim smile, he blocked another swing and put his bad knee in the man's crotch. When the guy bent over, reaching for the family jewels, the former field agent followed through with two quick chops to the neck. This time when the man went down, he stayed down. Cross pulled out his handcuffs and restrained his prisoner. He climbed back to his feet, wincing at the pain in his right knee and the throb in his left arm. Delightful. I must have hurt it in the impact. That fight didn't help either. And we still have to see about the ladies and their 'curse'. It's going to be a long night. Quentin looked around. His car wasn't going to be going anywhere except a junkyard. Rollie was helping the man who had tried to stop the perpetrator of this mess back to his feet. He looked back at the now jammed expressway and wondered how long it was going to take to get new transportation and the police there to collect his prisoner.

Limping back to his totaled car, he pulled out his cell phone. First call went to the police who, not surprisingly, already knew about the problem. Next call was to ComCent to order another car brought out. He figured the agents should deliver it around the same time he wrapped things up with the authorities. If it wasn't for that, he might have ordered a helicopter, but he couldn't go until the cops had everything under control. The ladies, Duncan and Angie were just going to have to wait. Sitting on the front passenger seat, he dialed Cassie's number and frowned as he got an out of service signal. He tried Shane, D.D. and Duncan, all without any luck. He looked up as Rollie came over to join him.

"Are you all right?" The Aussie asked, worried about his friend.

"Yes," Quen answered, "I can't reach the ladies or Duncan. It's going to take awhile to get this straightened out."

"Yeah, it is," Rollie commented as he looked around. He sat on the back seat and leaned forward, his attention returning to the American. "You were limping pretty badly."

"My leg didn't appreciate the action. I'll be fine." He rubbed his aching arm, thinking. "Can you reach Angie?"

"Don't know. I can try." Rollie leaned in and pulled out his cell phone. He stood up and pushed a button, speed dial one was a direct line to Angie's cell. "Nope, no signal."

"They're going to be wondering where we are."

"Not if they see this mess on the TV." Rollie grabbed his bag and rummaged around. He pulled out his PDA. Now if Angie has hers, maybe we'll get somewhere. He frowned as he connected with her PDA and saw the signal was coming from the direction of their hotel. "Oh well, it was worth a shot." He looked at Quen. "Want me to check that knee?"

Cross shook his head. No, he didn't need to have anyone look at his knee. It was a familiar ache and he knew that the only thing for it was RICE. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. He couldn't do that until they were done, but once he got home... "You can check my arm. I must have banged it pretty hard."

Rollie nodded. Quen pulled off his jacket and watched while the Aussie pushed up his sleeve and checked his lower arm out with gentle fingers. "Well, Doctor Oz, what is the diagnosis?"

"It's not broken and I don't think either of the bones are cracked, but you're going to have a hellish amount of bruising."

"How bad?"

"Painful, but not too bad. Big, black and blue. Mostly black. You should get it checked by a doctor," Rollie cautioned, "your knee too."

"I will call my doctor after we take care of Angie, the ladies and Duncan."

"Tell me about them," Rollie asked as he searched his bag and found an ice pack. He snapped it and offered it to Quen.

Quen accepted the pack and gratefully applied it to his arm. "Not much to tell that I can tell. Secrets you know."

"Spy." Rollie grinned at Cross.

"Right. I will say the ladies are very good at what they do, but I'm trying to make them better." He looked at the cars creeping pass, using part of the emergency lane. So they don't repeat my mistakes.

"What about Duncan? He's not a spy, right?"

Quentin grinned at the special effects expert. "Duncan is Q." The Aussie laughed. "Seriously, he is. Since I couldn't recruit you or Angie, together or separately, I recruited Duncan. I knew when I was made sector chief, and if I could convince the Chairman to give me the She Spy program, I would need somebody to do the gadgets. They would have to be very good and very imaginative. The whole She Spy setup begs for plenty of imagination and a willingness to go the extra mile. Duncan fills those requirements and does it very well." He looked at Rollie, his eyes serious. "Don't let Duncan know I'm telling you about this, okay?"

"Uh, okay," Rollie promised, puzzled, but trusting his friend.

"He was all set to graduate from M.I.T. at the top of his class." He looked Rollie in the eye. "He missed his most important exam just prior to graduation to attend a comic con in New York. They expelled him."

"Ouch. That's not fair." Rollie winced at the thought. To be so close and to lose it! He'd sometimes wondered if he could have cut it at one of the upper technical institutions. This just told him the answer was probably not. He wouldn't have fit in well enough. He would have been kicked out before he got anywhere near a degree.

"You're right," Cross admitted, "but Duncan made a choice. It just happened to be the wrong one for his degree, but was the right one for me. He doesn't seem to be that bothered about it." He had known if anybody would understand about Duncan and sympathize, it would be Rollie.

"He likes working for you."

Quen shook his head with a smile. "He is half terrified of me. He likes working with the ladies. He thinks they're better than superheroes."

"Uh, he does know they're human?"

"Yes, he knows that they're fallible, that they can get hurt, bleed or even die." Quen grinned. "Of course, they also haven't failed a single mission."

"Why is he afraid of you?"

"Because I'm the big, bad, very strict boss who makes them all work extra hard and is never satisfied. He also knows I can kill using just the office supplies," Quentin Cross admitted with a straight face.

Rollie almost fell out of the car laughing. "Oh," he held his side where it ached, "that's a good one. Doesn't he realize you don't need anything to be deadly?"

"I don't think that's quite dawned on any of them yet." He winked at Rollie who shook his head.

October 30, 2004 10:01 PM PDT

"Rollie!" Angie exclaimed in relief.

"They're here?" Duncan asked, turning around to look.

"Finally!" Cassie stood up, then blinked in surprise as she spotted their boss and Angie's husband. The two men looked a lot like each other. They were the same height, the same build and had extremely similar facial structure. She could see the differences, but it would be easy for most people to mix the two of them up. Of course, Cross's shorter, almost military style haircut was very different from the more casual brown mop of wavy hair that Rollie possessed. She wondered idly what it would be like to run her fingers through those locks. No gray. Wonder how that makes the boss feel. "Hey boss, what took so long?"

"You didn't see?" Rollie kissed his wife tenderly and hugged her. "There was a wrong way driver on the expressway."

"No, we didn't hear about that. Just the sports." Angie pointed at the nearest screen. The televisions were all muted, the noise level of the bar was too high for the conflicting sports networks to stand a chance. "Want to know who's winning any game? It's here somewhere." Her eyes narrowed as she searched her husband for signs of injury. She looked over at the American field agent. "Hello Quentin."

"Hello Angie," Quen responded. "Is it safe for me to kiss the bride?" He smiled to show he was kidding.

"That depends on how close you and this guy got to that driver."

"Angie..."

"No, Rollie, I want to hear from Quentin, not you." Angie glared up at the Aussie.

"Too close," Cross admitted.

Angie tilted her head, considering. "Why?" She knew there had to be a reason.

"I couldn't let him hit the car behind us."

The blonde FX artist looked to her husband.

"Mommy mobile," Rollie explained.

'"Are you hurt?" Angie tapped her foot. "Be honest!"

"I'm fine. Quen got a little banged up."

"Boss?" Cassie asked, his subordinates looking at him in concern.

"Bruises," Cross admitted. "Knee hurts a bit too."

"Uh, Rollie?" Cassie looked to the Australian for more of an answer.

"He was limping pretty badly at first, but it seems to be better now. He had me drive the rest of the way and he seems to have worked most of it out," Rollie told her.

Angie sighed. She might have known Rollie would find trouble. At least he seemed to be intact. She suddenly felt sorry for Quentin. "You may safely kiss the bride, Quen."

Quentin Cross gave Angie a chaste kiss on the lips. "I'm glad you two finally got married," he whispered to her.

"Me too," Angie whispered back. "Quentin, I'm sorry about before. It wasn't your fault." She didn't indicate if she meant on the phone or the last time they had been together.

Cross didn't ask any questions, realizing she meant both. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry too. I really didn't mean to get either of you involved."

"I know. I just got scared. You know?"

"Yes, I do know."

Rollie cleared his throat. Quentin and Angie looked at him and smiled. Everybody sat down in the booth they had been sharing while they waited.

"So what's the plan, boss?" Angie asked her husband.

"Ah, the plan. It's my plan and I don't think I'll share all of it," Rollie said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Cassie found herself comparing the eyes of the two men. Rollie Tyler's were a deep dark brown. They reminded her of dark chocolate, the friendly eyes of a big, adorable dog. Quentin Cross, on the other hand, had eyes the shade of a perfect cup of tea or perhaps bright brown amber. They were just the other side of golden, bringing the thought of perfect, museum quality gems. She tried to decide which color she liked best. One pair was velvet, the other silk. Both rich and rare, both filled with knowledge and life.

Angie frowned, not liking that. "What will you share?"

"This," Rollie said, "you think you're under a curse, so we are going to make them take it off."

"How?" Shane asked.

He looked at his watch. "Will the, uh, witches still be at the shop?"

"Yes," D.D. responded, "they should be. The shop just closed a few minutes ago."

"So the front door will be locked? Perfect." Rollie grinned at the others. "We reconnoiter the area to determine where they are. If we can pull it off, I would rather have them think that we just walked in through a locked door. An alarm not going off would be a nice touch."

Shane looked at the others and shrugged. "Sure, we can do that, if we had something to do it with."

Cross removed his lock pick set and offered it to the former cat burglar. "I believe you'll find everything you need there."

She examined the contents and almost purred. "Oooh, nice. Thanks, boss."

"And once we're inside?" Quentin prompted.

"We, or rather, I will put a curse on them." Rollie shrugged. "If they want it off, they have to remove theirs."

"Uh huh, I'm real sure they're going to believe that," Cassie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, by the time I'm done, they'll believe all right. They won't have a choice."

"What are you going to do?" Angie looked at him, knowing he wasn't going to tell her and trying to puzzle it out.

"Oh a little movie magic and another type of magic, some that I bet they won't be familiar with."

"The makeup effects you created for the movie?" Angie grinned.

"That's part of it."

"What is Blue going to do?" Quentin asked.

"You brought Blue?" Angie asked, only mildly surprised. After all, Blue was a very useful dog.

"Who's Blue?" D.D. looked at Rollie, then Angie.

"Rollie's pet, a robot dog," Angie answered.

"Robot?" Duncan's eyes widened in excitement. He turned to the Australian. "You built a robot?"

"Yes, he did. A very useful little guy." Cross answered as he nudged Rollie's elbow, reminding him that he hadn't answered his question.

"Two things," Rollie said. "First, he'll help us find where everybody is located in the building. Second..." He smiled at his wife.

"He's going to control the FX." Angie smirked. Rollie had decided to implement the controls for his new special effects in the robot at the same time he had come up with the designs. They were integrated in Blue's designs and programming as he built the makeup effects.

"Naturally," Rollie grinned at his beautiful wife.

"Are we going to do this, Mister Cross?" Cassie looked at their boss, wondering if he was going to allow it.

Quentin nodded. "We all do it or they'll do it by themselves. I know this pair."

"Of course you do," Rollie grinned wickedly. "Shall we discuss how we met?"

Quentin Cross shook his head with a serious look on his face. "Let's not."

"How?" D.D. looked at Angie, her eyes wide with curiosity. His other subordinates leaned forward slightly, their posture betraying their interest in the chance to actually learn something about their mysterious boss.

"Oh no, I'm not getting into this!" Angie shook her head. "If he says not, then I'm not." She blinked and smirked again. "Besides, Rollie introduced me to Quentin and I have no idea how they actually met each other."

Rollie pretended to stare off into the distance, while keeping watch from the corners of his eyes. He could see Angie's new friends were dying of curiosity. He glanced at Quen, then smiled. "You know me, Quen."

"Yes, I do, Rollie, and that ladies is why I know he won't be telling you anything." Quentin smiled back at the Aussie, confident in his ability to keep a secret. "So, shall we start this little production you've cooked up?"

"Lets." Rollie stood up.

Quentin rose to follow him to the door, then paused as the others started trying to figure out how much they owed for the soft drinks they'd had while waiting. He stepped back and removed the tab from Cassie's hand. After glancing at it, he removed enough money from his wallet to cover the tab and provide a generous tip. "Now, let's follow the man, before he starts without us." He strode over to where Rollie had stopped to wait for them.

Shane bounced once as she lengthened her stride to catch up. "How would he get in?" She queried in a low voice,flashed the kit at the two men and palmed it.

"Oh, he would get in," Cross responded softly.

The She Spies exchanged speculative looks. Rollie and Angie were sounding more intriguing. They certainly didn't sound like they were just special effects artists. They hustled to catch up. Rollie led the way to the car and picked up the two cases. Quentin quickly took the one containing Blue. "Lead on, McRamirez," Rollie said to his wife.

Angie led them to the shop where the trouble had all started. She shivered slightly in the night air, feeling a chill run up her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. Just like someone walking on my grave, she thought.

Rollie put down his case and took the one from Quentin. He opened it and activated his pet. Blue had already been told to be silent the next time he was turned on, so the little robot just looked around. He wagged his tail at Rollie, Angie and Quentin. Duncan looked at the small robot with an awed expression. "Okay, Blue, where are they?" He crouched down, put Blue on the sidewalk and pointed at the building. He pulled out his PDA and powered it on. "Show me." The robot dog wagged his tail and focused on the building in front of them. The Aussie frowned as he looked at the display on his PDA.

"What is it?" Cross asked quietly.

"There are four people in there." He looked up at the American. "Second floor. What about alarms, Bluey?" He checked his PDA again. "Alarm isn't on yet."

"Right." Cross nodded to the She Spies. "Shane."

Shane knelt at the door's lock and examined it by the light of a nearby street lamp. Cassie and D.D. moved so they would obscure the view from anybody who might happen to look their way. She quickly manipulated the lock and opened the door. She stepped aside, to allow the others to pass.

"You know what to do, Blue," Rollie told his pet before he hid him behind an urn filled with shrubbery. He led the way, making no effort to be quiet. The others exchanged looks as Angie and Quentin followed. Cassie shrugged and they trailed them inside the shop. Cross moved to one side, half hidden by some of the merchandise. Rollie nodded. "NO, Angie, nobody puts a curse on my wife and gets away with it!" The Aussie said it loudly, making sure the people on the second floor heard him.

The three witches appeared on the stairs, surprised looks on their faces. The oldest, a beautiful woman with long auburn hair, dressed in a flowing black silk dress frowned at the interlopers. She pointed her finger at them. "You again. So, you haven't learned your lesson yet. We will..."

"Do nothing," Rollie snapped at her, his tone angry. His eyes burned with that anger. He put one hand in his pocket. The strange sound of a bullroarer filled the shop. Visibly surprised, the She Spies and Duncan warily looked around for the source. The Australian pulled out the bundles he had created on the way to Venice and dropped them on the floor. The bones clattered as they hit, the attached feathers and leaves seemed to move in an invisible wind. "Nu-wijam bort-da no-gobeyhgobey. Woyh-ma bolwon. Gordo-gin menyin wordow-ma. Murtdal." Suddenly, Rollie's brown eyes turned ochre red, glowing with an inner fire. His face was now painted with designs in ochre, white and black. "No-wern-na. Gurdak-ma gahan. Wulkguni, balangurrk ga-ba-ma-n, jilimakgun, ga-ya menuny, nungarin, gakgalak bort gaa." He turned on his heel, his back to the now stunned witches and started stalking for the door.

"Wait!" The youngest, a beautiful woman in her late twenties with long black hair called, her voice trembled slightly. "What have you done?"

"You pointed the bone!" Angie exclaimed, staring at her husband in surprise. Rollie winked at her, his back still to the witches.

"Pointed the bone? What does that mean?" The third woman, a buxom blonde, looked to the oldest for answers.

"I..." She shook her head. "I don't know. You!" She pointed at Rollie. "Explain yourself!"

"Explain?!" Rollie seemed to roar. "As you explained to my wife and her friends?" He shook his head. "That is all the explanation you will get from me!"

"Aradia?" The youngest looked at the oldest woman, her eyes betrayed her worry and fear.

Aradia shook her head. "No, we will not let a man scare us, Keilantra. What say you, Rhiamon?"

"As you say, sister." The blonde bowed slightly to the woman. "Command us and we will destroy him."

"Rollie?" Angie clutched at his arm, fear for him in her eyes.

The Aussie winked at her again. "You are children, playing with that which you do not truly know," he said, mentally grimacing at the pompous tone. This is too Hollywood.

"And what are you? A man without a clue! You know nothing." Rhiamon snapped.

Rollie Tyler smiled and something inside the three women facing him trembled. "I know a black fella, a clever man. He taught me many things about his people, their traditions, their knowledge. A clever man who broke tradition and made them my people for he saw inside me. I know much of what he knows for he took me as his son and his pupil."

"Mangela," Angie breathed the name of Rollie's second father.

Keilantra tugged at the other women and they huddled together.

The She Spies exchanged looks, not really understanding what Rollie was talking about. They couldn't hear what the witches were saying to each other, but they saw their increasing agitation. They spread out, being careful to keep Duncan behind them. Cassie looked at Cross, questions in her clear blue eyes. He shook his head and nodded to the women. The tall, beautiful blonde focused her attention once more, waiting for a sign to call them to action. She stood loosely, poised on the balls of her feet and waited.

Aradia spoke again. "If we remove the curse, you will undo what you have done." She tried hard to keep the question out of her voice, but didn't quite succeed.

Rollie rocked on his feet, apparently thinking. After several tense minutes passed, he responded. "Agreed."

The three witches raised their hands and chanted once more. The words did not carry very clearly. They gestured in synchronized harmony as they spoke faster. Their arms finally drooped as if they were too tired to hold them up any longer. "Done," Aradia stated.

Rollie considered them thoughtfully. The fire in his eyes died, returning to their rich, dark brown, the designs on his face faded away. He walked to the bundles of bones and sat on his heels. His hand undid the bundles and slipped their bits into his pockets.

"That's it?" D.D. asked.

Rollie stood up, brushing his hands. "Yes, that's it." He shot a look of warning at the witches. "Unless they lied."

"No!" Keilantra shook her head. "We have not lied. The curse is gone."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't go around putting curses on people who haven't done anything to you," Shane glared at them. "I think they're getting off too easy. What's to stop them from doing it to some other poor tourist?"

Aradia glared back, her brown eyes filled with anger. She opened her mouth, then suddenly froze. The three witches heads came up, surprise on their faces. Their eyes went to where Cross was standing. He stepped out, curious about their reaction. Everybody heard a loud muffled obscenity from upstairs. The witches turned and ran up the stairs. Surprised, the She Spies took off after them. Not really thinking, Duncan hurried after. Cross huffed and ran up the stairs, following his unarmed, but none the less dangerous agents and the younger man. Rollie and Angie looked at each other. Angie shrugged and nodded at her husband who was almost vibrating with eagerness. He sprang up the stairs after the others, Angie right on his heels. They reached the top just in time to see Cross disappear through another door which turned out to be another stair case. This one led to the roof of the building. The couple reached the roof just in time to see the She Spies start down the fire escape on the other side, the footsteps of the women, pursued and pursuers, rang loudly in the night. Quentin was half way across the roof, Duncan a couple of yards in front of him. Cross yelled as another figure bolted out of hiding from behind some air conditioning vents. It pushed hard at Duncan's back, causing him to stumble against the two foot high wall that surrounded the rooftop. Baleu cried out as he tripped backward over the wall and fell toward the street. Quentin Cross lunged forward, reaching desperately. He managed, just barely, to grab one of the younger man's hands. He gasped as his knees hit the roof and his left arm the brunt of Duncan's weight. Cross gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with determination and pain. He was not going to let go. He didn't care how much it hurt.

Rollie sprinted to his friend's side and looked over. He knelt beside Quen and stretched one arm down toward Duncan. "Grab my hand." Angie paused, then deciding she would only be a distraction, ran after the others, plunging down the fire escape after the figure that had pushed Duncan.

Duncan shook his head, his eyes clamped shut.

"Duncan, open your eyes and take my hand." Rollie spoke, each word distinct and clear. "Trust me, Duncan. Take my hand."

The terrified man opened his eyes and glanced down.

"Don't look down. Look at me." Rollie told him, his voice calm. "Look at me, Duncan. Give me your hand."

Licking his lips, Duncan looked up. He panted from fear and adrenline. He hesitantly reached up with his free hand for the Australian's. Their hands touched. Rollie stretched further and wrapped his hand around Duncan's wrist. "Grab my wrist, Duncan." Rollie smiled slightly. "Good man. Now comes the hard part. You have to let go of Quen and give me your other hand. Can you do that for me?"

"I..." Duncan shook his head, his upturned face pale.

"You can do it, Duncan." The Aussie stated firmly. "I've got your other hand. All you have to do is let go and grab my other hand. Just like before."

"Can you hold me?" The American squeaked. He looked at his boss. Wouldn't it be better to hold on to both of them? "Mister Cross?"

Cross drew in a breath and somehow forced himself to speak normally. "Listen to Rollie, Duncan. You can trust him." He looked down into Duncan's eyes. "I won't let go until you say your ready. Okay?"

"O..okay, Mister Cross." Duncan Baleu spoke with absolute faith in his superior. He closed his eyes and licked his lips again. Blinking them open, he looked up at the two men keeping him from falling. "I--I'm ready."

Quentin forced his hand to let go. He watched as Rollie grabbed Duncan's hand and started to pull. He slid down the small wall, sliding away from the Australian to get out his way. He turned to put his back to the wall, his left leg stretched out straight and cradled his throbbing arm to his stomach, certain he had done some serious damage to it. Pain pounded through his body with every beat of his heart. He closed his eyes in relief as Rollie pulled Duncan up on to the rooftop. The younger man stumbled slightly and sat down abruptly beside Quentin. His eyes closed again and he shook hard, reliving the fall in his mind.

Rollie looked at them, worried. "Duncan? Does it hurt anywhere?"

Duncan shook his head, then nodded. "My arms hurt."

Rollie gently touched the young man's shoulder, then ran his hands down first his left arm, then his right. "Nothing broken or out of place."

"I," Duncan licked his lips again and forced his eyes open. "I think it's just the, uh, exertion. I'm, uh, not used to being lifted by my arms." He looked up at the Australian, feeling a touch of awe. How much strength did it take to left something as heavy as he was straight up?

Rollie smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "You're all right, mate." He shifted to kneel beside Cross. "You okay, Quen?"

"Check my arm, Rollie." The American tried to keep the pain out of his voice and off his face. He didn't want to upset Duncan who had received enough scares for the night.

The Aussie gently took Quen's hand in his and ghosted searching fingers up his left arm and shoulder, not wanting to add to the man's pain. Everything seemed to be in the right place. There were no abnormalities that would signify a break or dislocation. He sat back on his heels and patted Quen's right knee. "I'm not finding anything, but you need to get it x-rayed to make sure." He checked his pockets, trying to find something to use to support and immobilize Quentin's arm.

"Mister Cross?" Duncan's attention was now focused on his boss, the man who had saved his life. "Are you okay?" He frowned. Mister Cross looked worse than he felt. "Mister Cross?" Duncan's anxiety was evident in the tone of his voice.

"I'll be fine, Duncan," Quentin said, trying to reassure the younger man. He shifted his arm, slipping his hand into his jacket and trying to zip it up to act as a sling. It wouldn't be much, but it was something. The Aussie silently zipped his friend's jacket part way for him. "Rollie, help me up."

Rollie knew Quentin asking for help was a sign of how much he was hurting. He moved to his right and slid an arm around his back. Quentin placed his right arm over Rollie's shoulders. They looked at each other for a second, then Quen nodded. The special effects artist stood up slowly, taking some of the American agent's weight and holding him steady. From the way Quen was leaning on him, Rollie knew his knee was hurting him again, even more than after the accident. "Can you make it down the stairs?"

"Yeah, let's go." They slowly made their way down to the street, Duncan hovering behind the two taller men. Quen muffled his groan as Rollie eased him down on to a bench. "Where are the ladies and Angie?"

"I think the ladies are still chasing the 'witches'. Angie took off after the man that pushed Duncan." Rollie said, his expression full of worry.

Cross frowned at that, if anything happened to Angie... "I'm sorry, Rollie."

"Not your fault, mate." Rollie looked at Duncan. "How about getting Blue for me?" His lips quirked into a half smile as the younger man scurried to fulfill his request. It widened into a grin as he saw Quen's ladies and Angie escorting the three witches from an alley. "Well, three out of four isn't bad," he commented to the American agent.

Quentin followed the Australian's gaze. "Yeah, but there was something about number four." He frowned as he tried to worry out what his memory was trying to tell him about the man. Something was familiar about him, but what? "Damn!" Cross stumbled to his feet as a car raced out of the alley behind the women. They scattered out of the way and then stood, staring after it for a moment. Quen turned on his left leg and limped for the car.

"What?" Rollie asked as he easily caught up with the agent.

"We have to catch him." Cross pulled the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Rollie. "You drive."

"Damn!" Cassie cursed and pushed Aradia toward Shane. "Watch them!" She sprinted after the two men, Angie was right on her heels. They caught up just as Cross got into the front passenger seat. She slid in the back behind him, Angie running around to get in behind Rollie. "What happened to you?" She asked as she slammed the door shut.

"Later," Cross barked. "Can you catch him, Rollie?"

"Watch me. Buckle up, ladies," Rollie tossed to the back. He pumped the accelerator, then pulled from their parking spot. Angie was already scrambling for the belt to do just that, so Cassie hurried up to do the same. His foot pressed down on the accelerator peddle and he shifted expertly as he coaxed the speed he wanted from the vehicle. He drove rapidly down the street, after the fleeing car. Rollie frowned in concentration as he tried to catch up. He shook his head as the car in front ran through a red light, trying to extend its lead. "Hold on," he said as he turned to the left, then right. He raced down the street parallel to the one they had just left, trying to get in front of the other car. Instincts honed from stunt driving, allowed him to get more speed from the car. He glanced to the right, trying to spot the other vehicle.

"Not yet," Quentin told him.

Rollie nodded and sped up even more, thankful that the streets were nearly deserted.

"That's it!" Cross shouted as he caught a glimpse of their target at the next intersection.

The Aussie grinned and pressed the peddle home. He turned at the next intersection and hit the brakes as he came to the original street. The car came to halt, blocking the street in front of the other car. The driver braked and skid as he tried to turn away from the obstacle. Angie, Rollie and Cassie scrambled out the driver's side. Cross pulled his gun and lowered the window, taking careful aim. He waited. The other car spun out of control and hit an utility pole. The driver stumbled out as the American agent unbuckled, opened his door and stood up. He rested his weight on the door of the car, using it to steady his aim. "Hold it, Rowley! Put your hands on your head," Cross shouted, finally recognizing the other man.

"You won't get me, Cross!" James Rowley snarled, pulling a gun and firing at the agent.

Cross didn't flinch as the bullet whipped past his head. He really did not want to kill the other man. Dead men couldn't answer questions and he knew the Chairman would have a lot of questions for Rowley. James Rowley was a high ranking member of another agency, the MIS, and everybody would want to know what he had been doing, why and how much he had passed on about what he knew. He fired at the other agent, deliberately missing and had the satisfaction of seeing him duck away. Rollie pulled out his PDA and made it play sounds of gunfire. Confused, Rowley looked around and darted behind a nearby parked car. Quentin took advantage of the distraction to find his own cover behind the engine of the car.

Cassie frowned as the boss limped to the safety. She did not like the way he was moving or the way he was holding his arm close to his chest. She didn't like people who shot at them either. She took a peek at the other man. Looking up, she smiled. "I've got an idea," she told Angie and slipped away. The blonde agent was gone before the FX artist could ask what it was. She moved stealthily to the building behind them as Cross exchanged more shots with her target. Using it for cover, she moved quickly to the end of the buildings lining the same side as the gunman was. Finding a fire escape, she leapt gracefully and caught the end, pulling the ladder down. She climbed it as silently as she could and ran down the buildings, only having to leap one small alley, until she was standing above Crowley. Examining the decorations on the roof of the building, she picked out a pot of geraniums. Holding the pot in her hands, she stood above Crowley. "Geronimo!" Taking careful aim, she dropped the pot and watched it fall to the street below. She grinned as it hit his arm, causing him to drop his gun.

Cross immediately moved to cover the crooked agent. "Don't try it, Crowley." He limped forward, keeping a close watch on the man.

Cassie found a sturdy drain pipe and quickly climbed down. She reached the ground just as Crowley lunged toward his gun. Moving quickly, she pivoted in a graceful kick, sending the man sprawling. He rolled and came up in a crouch. She moved forward, confident. The man swung at her and she blocked his punch. She followed through with a punch of her own, but the agent blocked her. He took another swing and she moved her head, letting it go past. She caught his wrist and pivoted, throwing the man over her shoulder. He hit the street, rolled and came at her again. What does it take to stop this guy? She threw a punch at him which he dodged. Before he could come at her again, she kicked high, catching his chin with the toe of her shoe. He went down again and this time he stayed down.

"Good work, Cassie," Cross commented as he watched the downed man for any sign of trouble. "Call the police, Rollie!"

"Already done, they're on their way," the Aussie told him. He pulled his wife into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. He grinned in relief as the adrenaline started to wear off. "Why do you always have to make things so exciting, Quen? Oh yeah, must be a spy thing."

"Ha, I've read about some of the things you've gotten into. You can't blame me, you find it on your own." Cross tossed back.

October 31, 2004 12:12 AM PDT

The officers who responded to the call, put another call in for more squads and a detective team to take the crooked agent in hand. Quentin Cross had very precise instructions on what they should do with the man and what to watch out for. While he was dealing with the law, Cassie called the others and they drove over in the van to join them.

"Hey guys, what happened to the flat tires?"

DD bounced out of the middle. "Gone," she snapped her fingers.

Shane followed more sedately. "She's right, the flats were gone when we took the Terrible Trio back there to keep an eye on them." She smiled as they handed the three women over to the law. She brushed her hands together. "That's that."

"I'm glad that's over. I didn't like that curse. What about you, Angie?" D.D. asked her as she watched them be placed into separate patrol cars. Her eyes widened. "You don't think they'll curse us again."

"I doubt it," Rollie told her. He stretched. Watching Quen talk to the cops, he frowned as he noticed the agent was still keeping his weight off right leg. They walked over to join the senior agent as the cops left him alone. "You need to see a doctor, Quen. I'll drive you to the emergency room."

Cross shook his head. "I'll call my doctor on the way back."

Rollie raised an eyebrow at that. "Your doctor will see you in the middle of the night?"

"Yes," Quen smiled at the Aussie's surprise. "Take Duncan and Angie and go home, ladies."

"Maybe we should come with you," D.D. said. "You might need us."

"Rollie?"

"Go back to the hotel, Ange. I'll make sure Quen's all right," the Aussie said. He kissed her forehead, then touched his to hers. "I think I'll stay with him. He'll need someone to look after him for awhile." He whispered so no one else heard.

"I could help," Angie whispered back.

Rollie shook his head. "No, enjoy your vacation, sweetie. I'll take care of him. Just stay out of trouble."

Angie smothered a laugh. "Look who's talking."

"Go," Mister Cross ordered and the ladies reluctantly obeyed. Duncan was subdued, knowing that his boss had gotten hurt saving his life.

"What? Was he suppose to let you fall?" Angie snorted. "No, Duncan, it wasn't your fault and Quentin did what he had to do. It's part of his job." She shook her head. "It's part of him, who he is," she tried to explain.

Cassie, Shane and D.D. nodded in agreement and understanding. That was the type of man their boss was. The women finally convinced him that really it wasn't his fault and Cross wasn't going to get rid of him or anything. They left Duncan at his place and headed for Angie's hotel.

"Boy, what a day," Cassie said, smiling as they let the woman out. "You going to be okay, Angie?"

"Yeah," Angie responded. "I'm going to be lonely since Rollie is going to stay with Quentin though."

"He is?" Shane looked a bit surprised. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered how much Mister Cross had been limping. "Maybe you should have kicked that rat harder, Cassie."

Cassie nodded. "I think you're right."

"Look, pick me up tomorrow morning and we'll go see how he's doing. Maybe we can pamper Quentin and get some more answers. Besides I want to know what Rollie thought he was doing, pointing the bone at those witches."

"Pointing the bone. You said that before. What is that?" Cassie asked.

"I'm not an expert, but it's something aboriginal clever men can do. They do something they call pointing the bone. It makes the person they pointed sicken. If the clever man doesn't stop it and the victim can't find another one to stop it, they eventually die."

"And Rollie can do that?" Cassie asked, skeptical.

Angie thought about it. "I don't really know. He's never done anything like that before, though he did have a dreaming when he was a boy that came true a few years ago. Mangela says Rollie is the eagle."

Cassie shook her head. "Whatever that means."

"Who is Mangela?" D.D. asked.

"D.D., I'm bushed, I'm sure Angie is too," Cassie said. "We'll discuss it in the morning."

"Oh, okay." The blonde nodded and yawned. "Good night, Angie."

"Good night, D.D., Cassie, Shane. See you tomorrow."

"Good night," Cassie and Shane responded. They headed home to the beach house, more than ready to see their beds.

October 31, 2004 04:19 AM PST

Quentin had made calls on the way back to Los Angeles to have a team from ISD secure the shop and search it. He had also kept his promise and called his doctor who immediately agreed to meet him at the hospital. At Rollie's encouragement, he had leaned his seat back and closed his eyes. He hadn't really fallen asleep, he ached too much for that, but he had gone through some relaxation exercises which had helped. The American was exhausted by the time his doctor, Aysha Zeelan, had finished poking and prodding his knee and arm. He had been lucky because his arm hadn't been dislocated, though there was a hairline fracture midway up his radius. In addition to the fracture, he had a large muscle bruise there as well. Doctor Zeelan had prescribed a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug. Both his knee and arm were wrapped in compression bandages, his arm placed in a sling to immobilize it. Rollie had collected the prescription from the hospital pharmacy, bundled him back into the car and helped him get home. He'd started for the kitchen, but the Aussie turned him toward his bedroom.

"Lie down, Quen."

Cross did just that, relieved to finally be off his feet. He let his friend bustle around, helping him undress, fluffing pillows to elevate his leg, fetching water for him to down his prescription. He was dozing when Rollie returned with the ice packs from his freezer. He shivered as the Aussie carefully placed them around his knee and arm, but didn't waken.

Rollie sighed with relief at getting his friend safely settled in bed. He stretched and yawned, undressing and slipping in on the other side of Quen's bed, so he would be handy if the American needed anything. He quickly followed Quentin Cross into dream land.

October 31, 2004 08:27 AM PST

Cassie unlocked Mister Cross's door, not wanting to risk waking him if he was still asleep. The She Spies, Angie and Duncan slipped quietly inside. They found Rollie in the kitchen fixing coffee.

Good morning, Rol," Angie said, reaching up to pull him down for her good morning kiss. The Australian happily obliged, picking her up so he could kiss her thoroughly. The She Spies enjoyed watching the couple, but Duncan was blushing a bit by the time Rollie put the blonde back on her feet.

"Good morning, ladies, Duncan," Rollie said. "Care for some coffee?"

"Please," Cassie responded. They settled into the breakfast nook with their coffee. "How's the boss?"

"Not too bad, considering," Rollie answered. He told them about the fracture and bruises as what as the doctor's prescription and instructions. "He'll need to stay off his feet for at least a couple of days." He looked at his wife. "I thought I would stay here until we start filming on Thursday. That way, Quen can relax and take it easy."

Angie nodded reluctantly. "I could stay too."

"That's okay, luv." He looked at the others. "You're still on vacation, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Cassie answered uncertainly, "unless the Chairman calls us back in."

"Why don't you take a couple of days and head up the coast. Quentin should be feeling a lot better by the time you get back." The Aussie looked up and stood. "Sounds like he's awake." He poured the American a cup of coffee and led the way into his bedroom. "Good morning, mate. How do you feel?"

Quen rubbed his eyes and looked at the people hanging behind Rollie's back. "Better." He accepted the coffee with thanks. They all settled around the bedroom. Rollie explained his idea for their road trip to Quentin.

"All right," Cross nodded, "they can go after they fill out reports on what happened." He looked at Rollie and Angie. "Could you...?"

"Sure, we can fill out a report on what we know," Rollie told his friend. Angie nodded her agreement.

"Thanks."

D.D. printed out the forms they needed from Cross's computer while Rollie gave Quen his next dose. Everybody settled in to fill out their reports. They all looked startled at a knock at the door. Cassie went to see who it was and returned with the Chairman.

"Good morning sir," Quentin said, trying to sit up straighter in his bed.

"Stay put," the Chairman told his injured subordinate. "Ah, Rollie, good morning."

"G'day Lee," Rollie said.

"You know the Chairman?" Shane looked at the Australian in surprise. She glanced at Angie.

The blonde FX artist shook her head. "I've never had the pleasure."

The Chairman smiled. "Rollie and I met a long time ago. You found us quite the treat last night," the Chairman stated. "I thought I'd drop by, see how Quentin was doing and hear the story first hand."

Quentin looked at his subordinates. "D.D., you start. After all, it did begin with you."

Nodding, the blonde agent told about the events in Venice. The others occasionally adding more to her narrative.

Angie looked at her husband. "Actually, we wondering about you, uh, pointing the bone, Rol."

"What?" Rollie laughed. "I didn't do it."

"Then what did you do?" Cassie probed.

"Ah, old conman's trick. Make it sound real so they'll believe. After all, they didn't know a thing about Australian aboriginal lore."

"What was that you were saying though?" Shane asked. "That sounded real enough to me."

"Yamatji," Angie said. "Mangela taught him."

"Mangela is Pitjantjatjara," Quentin stated. "The Yamatji are further west."

Angie looked at Rollie in confusion. "But you always said Mangela was Yamatji!"

Rollie shook his head. "Sorry sweetie. It's an old habit." He shrugged. "It's a trick that Mangela came up with to get the anthropologists off my back when I was little. I, uh, kind of got used to saying it." He blushed slightly.

"So that was Pita.. Pitjan..." Duncan stumbled over the unfamiliar name. "That's the language you were using last night?"

The Australian shook his head again. "No, that was Wagiman."

Angie smothered a laugh. "My husband, the multilingual Australian."

"What did you say?" Quentin asked him.

"Oh, uh, mostly I just spouted off whatever came to mind." He tried to remember what he had said. "Mostly I just strung some words together. Things like ignorant, lazy, liar. Wild wind. The trouble belonging to you lot turn into a dreaming. Arse hole. Troublemaker. That is dangerous. Evil spirit, they do bad magic on a woman, and in about a month she dies." He shrugged. "Just a bunch of nonsense really, but it sounded good so they believed it."

The Chairman shook his head and laughed. "And who did you learn that from? Mangela or Dingo?"

Cassie's head came up. "Dingo?" She looked at the tall, handsome Aussie. Tyler. Dingo Tyler. "You're related to Dingo Tyler?!"

Rollie's head tilted to one side as he considered the woman. "Yeah." His eyes narrowed. "McBain. Oh."

"You can't be!"

"Can and am. He's my dad."

Cassie looked at Angie, desperate.

Angie nodded. "Yep. Rollie is Dingo's son."

"How many siblings?"

"Uh, none," Rollie answered.

"Damn! Damn. Damn. Damn." Cassie stood up and paced back in forth. "I can't believe it! I can't!"

"What?" Shane looked at Cassie like she had gone crazy.

"I had a chance to go to the prom with him!" Cassie pulled her hair. "A drop dead gorgeous Aussie and I blew it!" She pulled her hair again and screamed in frustration.

Quentin laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Drop dead gorgeous?"

"Oh yeah," Cassie sighed deeply and sat back down. "I just can't believe it. I blew it!"

A smile danced on Quentin's lips and he looked at Rollie who looked back, a grin spreading over his face. "So, if I'm drop dead gorgeous, then you think Quen is gorgeous too," the Australian stated as he examined the other man.

Cassie looked at him, her mouth hanging open. "Huh?"

"After all, we do bear a striking resemblance to each other," Rollie continued

Cross smothered his amusement and looked at Cassie with a serious expression. "We do," he agreed.

Cassie shook her head back and forth. "No. No no no no no. You're my boss. You're... a suit!" Why do these things happen to me? Why? She blushed, totally embarrassed. The others laughter was not helping at all. "Aaargh!"