By Micki L. Bailey

"C’mon, Vinnie! Are you kidding me, man? Absolutely not!" Roger spun around to face him with an incredulous and angry wide-eyed expression.

Vinnie was patient, although he recognized that Roger calling him "Vinnie" was not a good start to things. Every name except "Vince" Roger reserved for heated, poignant moments.

"We need ya, Roga. We could use your expertise."

"WHO needs me?" He bristled.

"Me and Frank……….and what’s left of the OCB………..We all need ya. You’re the only one for this job."

Roger expelled a huge huff of air and paced around the loft’s den deep in thought. "If I’d known this was your reason for visiting, I’d have never told you where we were. You deceived me, man."

Vinnie noticed that Roger had now clenched his fists, probably unconsciously. "Well, then chalk it up as one to the hundreds of times you deceived me, Roga……….It’s the nature of the business, man."

"A business I retired from a long time ago." Roger had his back turned to Vinnie, and his voice was barely audible.

"But ya helped me out when I needed ya in Lynchboro," Vinnie reminded him.

Roger spun around again. "You called in a marker! I was obligated!"

Sitting on the sofa, Vinnie chuckled. "Give me a break, Roga. You don’t do nothing ya don’t wanna do……..You agreed to Lynchboro for me, to help me out. And you know it."

Roger looked away sullenly and sighed. "McPike sent you here to get me?"

"It was a mutual decision. I tol’ ya – we decided hands-down you’re the best man for this job."

"What job, Vinnie? You wanna give me a detail or two?" Roger snarled.

He wouldn’t ask for details if he was planning to refuse the gig, Vinnie thought.

"You remember Mel Profitt’s ol’ buddy, Van Platt?"

"Yeah." Roger spat the word out challengingly, more of a question than a response to one.

"Well, it seems his fat baby brother, Mikey, is running affairs now……….only he ain’t doing so good these days ‘cause he’s dumb and sloppy. See, he’s moved into the arms business – big guns, small guns, contraband guns, explosives, you name it. He’s carrying them across state lines, and he ain’t too careful who he’s unloading ‘em on. So tons of firearms are ending up in the hands of kids—"

"I’m sure there’s a point, or at least an ending, to this little tale somewhere," Roger interrupted sarcastically. He was still standing in front of Vinnie, still bristling with electricity.

Vinnie ignored him and continued. "Kids who kill other kids. And the OCB wants him and his operation shut down. Simple as that. End of story…….Buckwheat." He smiled at Roger.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Somebody else can’t handle this bullshit?"

"Nobody else can get inside. Even with his carelessness, no one’s been able to prove fat boy’s the source."

"Idiots."

Vinnie smiled to himself. "So that’s where we come in. We got the case, and now we gotta end Brother Van Platt’s very lucrative, very reckless weapons dealings."

Roger raised his right arm in the air and then let it fall dramatically, his eyes still wide. "Well, I can’t exactly play the part of your cool, polished potential arms buyer ‘cause I MET the fat boy in question once, and he knows me! Besides, my face was whitewashed all over the damn TV during those damn Senate hearings, if you recall!"

"Just chill out, Roga. Frank knows your days of going under are through. We don’t wantcha for that anymore. Your job will be to prepare the guy who does go under. A behind-the-scenes, hands-on consultant sorta."

"What?" Roger squinted his eyes. "I get the role of trainer?"

"You’re the undisputed best, Roga. A real hall-of-famer." Vinnie chuckled again

Now Roger ignored his sarcasm. "You could do that, Vinnie. You don’t need me. You wasted a trip out here." He was slowly pacing around the room again. His fingers were laced together behind his neck.

"But you were the Van Platt expert, man. While you were with Mel, you got in closer to them than anyone ever has. You know the ins and outs. You could look at these miles of surveillance video tape and tons of documentation we been collecting and tell us who’s who and what’s what. We need YOU, Roga, not somebody else."

"No………Can’t do it, man………Sorry, Vince." Roger’s back was to Vinnie again. His voice was whispery but firm.

"Is it ‘cause of Maggie?"

Vinnie watched him stop dead-still in his worn boots, as if paralyzed. After a moment, he answered quietly. "Of course it’s ‘cause of Maggie."

And although the words weren’t spoken aloud, Vinnie almost heard him add, "Everything’s ‘cause of Maggie."

"You could bring her to Quantico withya, man. But she wouldn’t see much of ya – what with all the shit we got to sort through and the overnight watches and all."

Roger turned around slowly. "No…….…I couldn’t do that to her. She’s just settling in here. She’s starting to like it here after I thought she wouldn’t adjust. I ain’t moving her again, even for a little while."

"It’s only for a coupla weeks at the most, Roga. We could even put her up in a safehouse if it’s security you’re worried ‘bout." Vinnie remembered the violent and dangerous scene at their "other" loft when Upton had come out of the distant past to call on Roger but found Maggie instead.

Roger glared at him. "A safehouse? Correct me here if I’m a little confused, but I almost bought it at one of your safehouses!"

Vinnie rolled his eyes this time. "Okay, okay……….She’ll be fine. We can put somebody here to watch the place. And didn’t you say that Michaels fella is staying in town now? He can keep an eye on her while you’re gone."

Roger looked away, as if into a vast distance. He sucked in his cheeks. "I’m just...........concerned about her right now." His voice trailed off.

"She’s okay, ain’t she?" Vinnie had almost nothing to go on here.

Roger swallowed. "She..........miscarried with that accident she had."

"Shit........Ya didn’t mention that before."

"It didn’t bother her ‘til the other day............when she found out she can’t conceive again." Roger’s voice was quiet and almost tender now. He sat down across from Vinnie.

"Whew! Sorry ‘bout that, Roga. You guys musta been crushed."

"Aw, I’m okay with it..........But I’m not sure ‘bout Maggie. She seemed to think this little jaunt to Arizona with Michaels would clear her mind, so I encouraged her to go." He trailed off again.

Vinnie sat up and leaned forward. "She’ll be fine, man. She’s a tough one." He was unsure how to comfort his pal in this new situation.

Roger looked up at him. "If I agree to do this, when would I havta go back east?"

"As soon as ya can..........Frank’ll understand ‘bout Maggie if ya wanna take a little time with her."

"She ain’t gonna like it, Vince, being separated for that long."

Neither will you, Vinnie thought. He saw it plainly on Roger’s face. "When’s she coming home?"

"Sometime tomorrow...........Look......Why don’t you hang ‘round a day or two? Lemme see how she is when she gets back. Gimme a chance to talk to her and all. I need to decide how to handle this………and it’ll do her good to see you."

Vinnie sat back resignedly. "Okay, Roga. I’ll call Frank and fill him in so he can let the Bureau know what’s going on." All he could do now was wait. Roger just wasn’t as free as he used to be.

That night when Maggie called from her motel room, Roger spoke to her with his eyes shut tightly. He was attempting to envision her bright, laughing face that he was listening to and not the dark, raining one she would show him when he told her why Vinnie had come to visit. His concentration was so intense that he never heard the tiny edge of strain in her voice – the result of her emotional encounter with Earl Ray that afternoon.

But Maggie had been relieved that his perception controls were turned down to low. She hadn’t wanted to bother him unnecessarily. She had noticed nothing out of the ordinary in his tone either.

As her voice flowed over him, Roger remembered the necklace he’d purchased to give her on her return from her trip. The diamond had been flawless. He was sure it would distract her mind from the doctor’s news if she was still worried about it all. But what would distract her mind from his news?

And he was almost certain now that he should go back to Virginia with Vinnie. His sense of right and wrong had been convincing him all evening that he shouldn’t coldly turn his back if he possessed specialized knowledge that would reel in an evil-doer.

As much as he loved Maggie – and, oh, he did love her – he would have to answer the call of duty to appease his conscience. He knew he couldn’t just isolate himself way off up here in Portland forever and forget about the rest of the world – even if he wanted to. The toughest part of the whole deal would be making her believe that he would be in no real physical danger and that he would definitely, absolutely come back to her.

* * *

The next day after Roger had retrieved Maggie from Earl Ray’s apartment and surprised her with both the diamond necklace and Vinnie, she spent a little quality time with Vinnie to welcome him to Portland. Then she retreated to the bathroom to freshen up. She and her ex-husband had just spent lots of long, tense hours on the road.

Roger detected instantly that she was a bit stressed, but he attributed it to fatigue and the trip itself. While she was alone in their bedroom unpacking her things, he joined her. He couldn’t possibly keep this news a secret from her much longer, this news that would affect them so strongly. He had to share it with her, get it out in front of them.

So after warm embraces and quiet touching, he sat her down on the bed and told her everything. She listened without speaking, and he watched her face closely as he talked. Her reaction, however, completely surprised him. Instead of the fiery Aries tantrum that he’d expected, she did something entirely different.

She wept.

Not uncontrollable, hysterical sobbing. Just silent, calm weeping. Resolved crying. And yes, she asked him all the questions he had anticipated. But she asked them in a hushed, choked, sedated voice.

"So you’re gonna start doing that stuff again?"

"You’re gonna leave me here……….alone?"

"What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

"Can I at least talk to you on the phone while you’re gone?"

He assured and reassured her that: 1) This would all be a one-time-only occasion – he would NEVER accept another assignment; 2) She would be safe – he would see to it; 3) He would be in no danger – working only in the background this time; and 4) Of course they could communicate via telephone – every day if she so desired.

"Please tell me the necklace wasn’t a softening-the-blow tool," she said, sniffling.

He laughed, almost soundlessly. "I bought that Monday, the day you left, baby…………long before I heard from Vinnie." This seemed to brighten her a little.

"So when are ya leaving?"

Roger gazed into those blue-green eyes and knew he’d miss them more than he’d ever missed anything. "ASAP, sweetheart……….the nature of the business."

She looked away and then back at him, her long legs crossed in front of her. "Can I have………..just one more day with you?"

He put his hand on her thigh. "Maggie………I’m gonna be fine."

She smiled, very sadly. "Roger……..I remember every story you ever told me ‘bout the way you used to live and the stuff you used to do………even the ones you whispered to me late at night and may not remember you revealed at all………and since I love you this much…….I gotta admit I’m gonna worry." More tears fell silently down her cheeks.

"Baby, I promise this will all be over soon……..Then we’ll go and find those mountains we been talking about." When she didn’t answer, he added, "And you know I’d stay here if you just asked me to."

Her smile was a little lighter now. "Yeah…….but I wouldn’t ask you to. You obviously believe you need to do this, so I want you to go and do it……….And then get your ass back here to me."

He returned the smile. "I love ya, ya know."

"Yeah, I know………I’m a little fond of you too."

* * *

Two days later, on the plane headed back to the East Coast, Roger replayed all the last-minute preparations in his head. He had the security company come to the loft and double-check every aspect of the elaborate system they had installed. And he had carefully instructed Maggie on the details of how to manage it in his absence.

Earl Ray had immediately and predictably agreed to resume the role of her guardian and to oversee the vintage auto business he and Roger indulged in together. Roger noticed a slight nervousness about Earl Ray when they spoke, an uneasiness that he assigned no real importance to since Maggie had still not bothered him with the sticky details of the trip. His main concern was Earl Ray’s unquestionable desire for her safety and well-being. It relieved Roger to be able to trust that.

"Hey, Roga. Frank says he can’t wait to see ya again," Vinnie said beside him on the plane. Then he snickered.

"Right." Roger broke the surface of his thoughts and assumed his cynical nature once again. "I’m sure I’m still right up around the top of McPike’s Favorite Persons list. He must be ecstatic that I signed on for this gig."

Vinnie laughed again. "He still can’t get over the fact that ya finally settled down……….says he won’t believe it ‘til he sees your ring."

"Yeah." Roger’s response was almost inaudible and not exactly what Vinnie had expected.

He glanced over and found Roger looking down at the gold ring, sinking back into his thoughts. "She’s gonna be all right, man. This’ll all be over in a flash, and you’ll be home in no time flat."

Roger sighed but didn’t look up. "I just wasn’t prepared to go back on the job like this…….I told her I’d given it up for good."

"Seemed to me like she understood," Vinnie offered.

Smiling at a memory he didn’t share out loud, Roger said, "Yeah, she understood……….or at least pretended for me that she did."

"Ya know, she told me she’d mount my head on the wall if anything happens to your ass."

"And believe me – she would."

"You’re a lucky guy, Roga, to find her."

"Yeah…….I know that, Vince."

* * *

Since the flight’s landing was delayed, Roger and Vinnie were the last ones to arrive at the initial briefing on the case. Everyone else involved had gathered in a large meeting room in the Organized Crime Bureau’s private quarters on the Quantico compound. They talked quietly among themselves as they awaited the promised, yet unnamed, main attraction.

When Roger opened the door and walked into the room, the waves of hushed conversation were enough to pull a body down with the undertow. Ignoring the sensation he was creating, he sauntered confidently to the head of the long table where Frank McPike stood waiting for him. Vinnie followed closely behind.

Without smiling or changing his wry, solemn expression at all, Frank shook Roger’s hand. "Lococco."

"McPike."

"Thanks for coming. We could sure use your help."

"That’s the only reason I’m here, Frank." Roger glanced over his shoulder quickly and then back at Frank. "Should I be signing autographs or something?"

"Most of ‘em thought you were still dead."

Roger curled his upper lip. "Still thought I was dead, Frank. Watch the syntax there."

Frank rolled his eyes dramatically and let out a deep breath. "Oh, I can see already this is gonna be as enjoyable as ever, working with you, Lococco."

"We’re wasting time here, Frank. What’ve we got?"

Shaking his head irritably, Frank turned his eyes away from Roger and onto the group around the table. "All right, folks. Listen up……..This is former CIA covert operative Roger Lococco. You may have heard that he’d been neutralized. But, as you can see, that’s not the case.

"He’s come here to assist us with this Van Platt mess ‘cause he has a great deal of experience with the family. So we’re gonna fill him in on what we know, and then he’s gonna take it from there. When he speaks, you clods had better listen."

"You’re still your same ol’ charming self, McPike," Roger said with a half smile. He and Vinnie took a seat, and the exchange of intelligence began. Every so often, Roger unconsciously twirled his wedding band around on his finger with his thumb.

* * *

"So whatever happened to that whorehouse chick and all the other good people of Lynchboro, Frank? What was her name?………Oh, yeah…….Lacey……..She was hot for that fruitcake Volchek, right?" Roger was using his fingertips to smash down a sandwich that Vinnie had just brought back from the nearest deli.

He, Frank, and Vinnie were in another smaller meeting room around a smaller table going over papers, photos, and video tapes just as they had been doing for almost a week now. Roger had successfully identified almost everyone on the tapes entering and leaving the Van Platt mansion. He had also been able to decipher lots of the coded conversation on audiotape as well as shed light on several of the international documents they had come by from the Van Platt business. Progress was doing leaps and bounds.

"I guess the bitch married him………I dunno. I don’t do follow-up calls." Frank bit into his ham-and-cheese-on-rye. "Those folks were a bunch o’ nuts, weren’t they? That loony-ass Volchek……..He was a control freak………..Unreal, if ya ask me."

Roger laughed with his mouth full. "Surreal, Frank………….Yeah, Volchek was a real head case. Maggie used to have a friend like that………Crazy bitch……She was as needy and clingy as she was tyrannical and self-centered………I’m glad as hell Maggie’s away from that fucking town and all that bullshit."

He had clued them in on his recent past – meeting Maggie and marrying her after her divorce from Earl Ray Michaels, living happily in the old loft until that Upton asshole had come and brought potential danger into their little world, fleeing to Portland and setting up house there, somehow getting Earl Ray to join them there.

Vinnie found the vintage auto business a very intriguing choice of occupations for Roger to be in now. Frank found the concept of a woman actually wanting to spend her life with Roger very unbelievable.

"Maggie’s special though, Frank. Ya think Roga’d settle for just any ol’ piece?" Vinnie asked.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Just do me a giant favor, huh, Lococco? Don’t go and reproduce, okay? One of you is definitely enough for this planet." He had not been informed of Maggie’s condition.

Vinnie quickly looked at Roger, not sure what kind of reaction to expect from him. But Roger just smiled and stared down at his food. "Whatever you say, Frank."

He spoke to Maggie almost every night, no matter how late he returned to his hotel room. He had intended these conversations to benefit her, help her through the long separation. But he realized after only a few days that he, too, needed them. And he looked forward to talking to her. He found that she eased his troubled mind when nothing else could. And he discovered that his mind was a little more troubled than usual simply by being away from her.

* * *

"Damnit, Vinnie! He’s hopped up, and they can sense it!"

"Calm down, Roga. He’s cool," Vinnie answered him.

"Cool like hell! If he blows this deal, it’s my ass!" Roger’s face was perspiring slightly.

The two of them sat in a brown bureau surveillance van that was parked a block from where the gun deal was being discussed at that very moment. Somewhere near Trenton, New Jersey. Vinnie was near the back of the vehicle monitoring the cameras that were secretly positioned around the secluded target building. Roger was crouched over the audio control board listening intently through a headset to the conversations going on at the rendezvous inside. In his head, he was picturing every tiny movement and facial inflection. Frank was in another dark van on another block.

The extensive groundwork for this climactic meeting had been grueling. After days and nights and more days and nights of sifting through all the collected data, Roger then had to use all of his experience and knowledge to tutor Gregory, the chosen operative who would make the deal.

And Gregory had been a worthy student who eventually won Roger’s hard-to-come-by respect and admiration. He was young but savvy. He had little experience but tons of "brains and balls," in Roger’s words.

"You’re practically a legend, Mr. Lococco," he had told Roger during one of their training sessions.

"You must have me confused, kid, with someone who gives a damn," had been Roger’s curt answer.

They had relied on Vinnie’s well-established cover to get Gregory a foot in the door so that he could arrange the all-important business meeting with Mikey Van Platt. Now Gregory was deviating somewhat from the pre-planned thread of conversation and beginning to stray into the deep end of the pool. Roger, for one, was not pleased with the sinister turn of events.

"They’re gonna eat him alive, Vince! They smell fear on him."

Vinnie turned around to him. "Give ‘im a second, Roga. He’ll bail out."

"Chill, Roger." Frank’s voice was piped in to their van. He was listening to them in one ear and to the intensifying meeting in the other.

"Chill my ass, McPike! G’s treading water! Listen to that!" Roger was steadily working up urgency. He had come to like Gregory, and he knew all too well how to sense danger.

"Roger, what we need here is a little patience." Frank sounded more authoritative than urgent.

Roger stood up hurriedly. "What we need here, Frank, is some damage control. The kid’s in trouble. I’m going in there."

He had heard enough of Gregory stammering and laughing nervously as Brother Van Platt and his two thug assistants grilled the boy. In a single fluid motion, Roger yanked off the headset and grabbed the keys to the van before Vinnie realized what was happening.

"No, Roga! You can’t!" Vinnie shouted.

"Like hell." Roger was already in the driver’s seat and starting up the van.

"Lococco, you weren’t called in to run damage control!" Frank screamed over the speaker.

But Roger ignored both of them. He was completely submerged again in "the job," in what he knew he had to do. A keen sense of resolute just action that he hadn’t felt in years rushed up on him and surrounded him like an old friend. His mind was totally focused and set.

He heard nothing that Vinnie and Frank shouted at him as he brought the van to a quiet stop near the small, one-story building. As he quickly put on his leather jacket, he pulled the Heckler & Koch P13 from the pocket and stepped out of the van. Wearing all black, he was instantly shrouded by the night. A dark ghost gliding invisibly along on the air.

He moved as softly as a stalking cat, tensely watching and listening for anything, until he approached the door of the building. There were no windows, so his only choice was to force his way in the door and take his chances. From all the surveillance, he knew approximately where each player was situated in the room. Viciously, he kicked in the door and rushed into the poorly lit room, frantically but very lucidly pointing his gun at each potential target.

"Whoever moves is a dead motherfucker," he said just loud enough for the people in the room to hear him. All but Gregory had leapt to their feet.

The fat man’s guards drew their weapons as well, but no one fired. They watched Roger intently as he maintained his steady, two-fisted aim. He scanned the room for any dangerous motion, and locked in on Gregory’s eyes. There was a wildness in them he interpreted as fright.

"You! Get the hell up!" Roger hissed in that direction. He had to treat him as a player.

But Mikey Van Platt laughed a jovial, hearty laugh and stepped in between them. "Ah, Mr. Lococco! Nice of you to join our little soirée! Especially since my brother told me you’d been fish food for years!"

Van Platt moved a step closer to Roger, and Roger cocked his gun. The sound echoed around the quiet room.

Then Van Platt looked past him and nodded his head. Roger had no time to react before a huge unforeseen guy emerged from the shadows and seized him from behind, grabbing him around his neck with a beefy arm and holding a gun to his temple. Roger struggled, but it was useless. He was trapped.

"We knew you were good, Lococco, but beating Death itself? Now you just drop that sweet weapon of yours, and you might not havta do it again." Van Platt laughed again.

Then two things happened simultaneously. 1) Roger elbowed the thug harshly in the gut while stomping on his foot at the same time, risking the chance that the other guys wouldn’t shoot him. 2) Frank and Vinnie ran into the room with their shotguns aimed and ready to fire. Coming up out of a crouch, Roger whirled around and pointed his "sweet weapon" directly at Van Platt.

"Hold it right where you are, all you slimy assholes!" Frank boomed out. "OCB here, and you’re all under arrest!"

Everyone slowly lowered their guns and dropped them to the floor. Everyone except Roger. He held his position firmly.

"We got ‘im on tape, Roga............after ya flew outta there...........got enough to put his fat ass away for a long time. He opened his fat mouth and said exactly what we needed." Vinnie explained.

Only then did Roger take a deep breath and relax his stance. He looked down and breathed deeply a few more times, trying to slow down his heart rate. Then, as Vinnie and Frank read rights, handcuffed, etc., he slipped outside into the dark night to collect and calm himself.

This scene, he thought, was not something he wanted as part of his reality anymore. Although he could still move easily and speak fluently in this world, he no longer cared to. The only reality he wanted from now on waited patiently for him back in Portland. He envisioned her face in his mind then and smiled to himself. It’s over, baby.

* * *

"You got nine lives or something, Lococco? Why’d you take such a huge chance hitting that guy when you coulda got your head blown off?" Frank asked the next day as they finished up the small details of the case.

Roger made a quick snarling motion with his lip and nose. "Just doing the job, Frank..........and it helped a wee but that I heard you guys outside the door."

"You forgot ‘bout his souped-up senses, Frank." Vinnie chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah........a real super hero………Now why don’t ya get on back home to this alleged Mrs. you claim to have."

As the 747 carried him back to the Pacific Northwest, Roger’s mind had left the OCB back east. Permanently. His thoughts now slowly revolved around Maggie and how he would soon rediscover her – hugging her, kissing her, smelling her, tasting her. Just being in her presence and renewing the bond.

He had returned to "the job" and done what he had to do. Now, however, he had his real life to live. Their life to live.