Class One.

All work stopped momentarily as a yawning and dishevelled Sukoloff ambled through the office door. Henn glanced up briefly, but found it hard to bring himself to even look at his former friend. The coldness of the atmosphere between them had not escaped the notice of the other agents.
    "You’re late, Sukoloff. Try sleeping instead of spying." This was not the kind of greeting normally passing between them, but it was the only one Henn gave before shuddering at the thought of Sukoloff being the possible spy. With an all too audible huff, he turned his chair to cast Sukoloff from sight.
    Joseph Proctor watched the performance between them, then after a little mental juggling he strode up to Henn and spoke his mind.
    "Alex, possibly I am putting my nose where it does not belong, but what on earth is going on? I have known the pair of you a long time and quite frankly I don’t like what I am seeing. What has caused this rift between the two of you?"
    At first Henn just shook his head and refused to answer, then in a voice that was almost relieved to tell someone he said, "It’s Vacily, I think he’s our spy. Those photos prove it. Joseph! If it comes to it, how do I sanction a friend?"
    "Categorically no! Don’t you see, he was not there. The time he was supposed to be there I saw him and one of the computer girls walking down Fifth Avenue."
    "You did? But how did Steele take a photo of him?"
    "Someone is out to discredit Vacily and I suggest we find out who it is."
    Pondering over Proctor’s words, he looked through his list of available agents. He ordered Tretow, backed up by Klyne, and Tanen, to raid one of the bases unearthed by his field men. Information was needed on both SASAM and this agent X-20, and it was needed now.

The approach had been comfortable enough, ample cover had allowed them to close to within some forty yards or so of the KIJAC base. Klyne and Tanen had taken up positions from where they could observe the final assault Tretow was about to make. They were also positions that would allow them to provide covering fire should a rapid retreat be called for.
    Without warning, a number of hidden gun emplacements in the KIJAC base started raking the ground around them. While from somewhere behind at least two more machine guns were also busily throwing bullets in their direction.
    A torrent of profanities exploded from Tretow, all of them basically voicing his concern about how KIJAC had managed to spring yet another trap during a clandestine PIA operation. He also made some abstract yet explicitly suggestive references as to exactly what he would like to do to Agent X-20, should he ever be lucky enough to meet him.
    All of KIJAC’s opening rounds had fortunately missed their mark and the PIA agents had been able to forge a strong defence within the available cover. Some minutes later, although they were still being shot at intermittently from both the front and the rear they presented no direct target. A distant commotion broke the stalemate. The KIJAC weapons behind them began firing long bursts seemingly at each other. Then, during a brief pause they heard the unmistakable, phut, phut, of a PIA gun before the staccato notes of KIJAC’s machine guns took over.
    Tretow moved so that he could see and pointing at a small distant figure he began to grin. "Three guesses who’s joined us?"
    Still not entirely happy about their situation, Tanen hopefully suggested, "The cavalry?" as he crawled alongside Tretow.
    "If it is," came his response, "then it’s probably the Ulan Lancers. I’d recognise him anywhere." They both watched the black figure running evasively in the field of fire. The machine guns had fallen silent and numerous other KIJAC agents, previously unseen, were being routed from their positions.
    A shouted warning came from Klyne when he saw several KIJAC agents leave the base and begin to advance towards them. It galvanised the group back into action and they took up positions to repel the assault. Small green fragments carpeted Tretow as a bullet from the rear whizzed into the grass alongside him, he checked behind, their back looked secure. There was neither sight nor sound of the battle that had so recently raged there. Turning back quickly he concentrated on the job in hand, accurate fire had so far stemmed the KIJAC advance.
    The explosion that rocked the building halted the advance altogether, curling smoke accompanying the screams that drifted out of the windows. The KIJAC agents in the assault party, having seen their fellows run off after vacating the building, backwards, also turned and fled.
    "Klyne, stay here and watch our six. Tanen, your chance to be a hero, come with me."
    Tanen obeyed yet he couldn’t figure out why fear gripped his heart and why, since the massacre, visions played inside his mind. To him the world looked different. He saw the face of an agent on every wall, snarling, warning him to silence. The room gave a small whirl and reality vanished, replaced by one of his frequent nightmares.

Along one wall of the large computer room, at the heart of the KIJAC base straggled a line of men. A mixture of boffins, field agents and ancillary staff with, besides being members of KIJAC, only one common thread running between them. They were all terrified.
    Another, who by the amount of scrambled egg on his uniform was a high ranking officer in the organisation, raced in and screamed at the cowering men, "Get him you blockheads!" No volunteers stepped forward so he screamed at them again, "I said get him, it’s all a trick. He’s got a bullet proof vest on... Idiots... Aim for his legs!"

    Tanen heard one gun answer the officers’ call with a deafening report. He couldn’t even be sure if the shooter was him or the enemy, but it brought Sukoloff’s impromptu performance to a stop. Tanen had seen him appear to them in the middle of the room, already standing on one of the computer desks and announcing his arrival with a series of unworldly howls. His party piece of taking a grenade from his pocket, laying it on the palm of his hand and letting it explode, had proved very impressive. It was these shocked survivors, now straggling along the wall the officer was screaming at.
    Sukoloff looked down and blinked at the smoking hole in the leg of his trousers, then he started to grin, "Dear, oh dear, blunt bullets are no good you know. You really must sharpen them," he scolded then added, "Tanen, Tretow, you see not, you just fight."
    Some of the men against the wall seemed to try climbing through it, one began to shout hysterically. "It’s not a trick. One second nothing. The next he was stood up there. Then he let a grenade go off... In his hand."
    The KIJAC chief watched the smoking hole closely then he let out a gasp as Sukoloff disappeared. A stampede of men made for the exit as the chief shouted into the intercom. "The fiend that attacked our Bronx base is here. He’s in the computer room. Get in here now and bring the special gun..." Icy arms came from nowhere and grabbed the chief before he could finish his sentence. His panicking yells that had accompanied the last of the men in their scramble to freedom ended when a small explosion from the consoles brought him back down to earth.
    "Put him down, Sukoloff. Or I’ll shoot you," commanded a voice.
    "Oh, so you’re sharp bullet monitor. Naughty, you should have done enough to share them out," Sukoloff said sniggering as he squeezed the chief a little harder, but only enough to have him squealing like a stuck piglet.
    "He’s freezing. I shot him in the leg. There’s no blood. I know he’s dead because I watched him die. I shot him in the heart."
    The leader of the new arrivals was laughing cruelly. "OK, Mr Sukoloff, I think that your little joke has gone far enough. Let us pretend for just a moment that you are indeed dead." He squeezed the trigger and his gun spat flame, smoke and death. "And shall we now see if you were?"
    Another still smoking hole appeared in Sukoloff, this time in his arm and as a small wet patch grew outwards around it, a cheer went up from the men. Tanen watched them fascinated, he watched Tretow, standing near the wall, laughing as Sukoloff put deathly fingers around the chief’s throat with one hand he raised his other arm to see the hole.
    "Nice hole boys, I see you’ve managed a damp patch... What happens next? Do you just turn over and go to sleep?"
    "Funny, Sukoloff, very funny. How do you feel now?" enquired the man. "Are you dead or are you alive?"
    Sukoloff found the question puzzling so he scowled slightly as he replied, "I feel fine." Then after a slight pause he asked, "why how should I feel?"
    "If, Sukoloff, you were a ghost, then you would be terrified, for you have just been hit with a holy water pellet," hissed the man through his hoarse laugh.
    Beaming whimsically, Sukoloff re-examined his arm, then having pretended to think for a while he chirped, "Oh, I know what you’ve done, a common mistake. You’ve got formula wrong. It has to be very accurately mixed you see. What you’ve used is only diluted holy water. Only one part is holy, the other nine parts were plain water. It has to be eight parts holy, one part water and remaining part an even mix of hope and finely ground garlic, or, I’m afraid that it just won’t work."
    "That’s enough stupid games, Sukoloff," he snarled. "Come with me, now! Men, take him!" Timidly they began to advance until an eerie blood-curdling scream from their chief threw them back as one man. The very air looked as if it was swimming contorted around Sukoloff and his captive when his grotesquely demonic voice howled. "Well, Mister, if I’m not a ghost, then explain this!"
    "Help! For God’s sake make him stop. Make him stop. Help me...!" The chief’s screams, which did nothing to stay the rapid exit of the KIJAC agents, reached fever pitch when Sukoloff’s free hand came out of the poor man’s chest, pale fingers waggling tauntingly. The chief fell into a dead faint and the screaming stopped, his limp body crumpling to the floor. The smug satisfaction in Sukoloff’s look was garnished with just a hint of gargoyle as he watched the remaining witnesses to his abhorrence scurrying out of the door. Tretow calmly shook Tanen’s arm and the vision cleared. "Are we going in or are you going to daydream all day?"
    Tanen could not speak, he could still see it, leaning against a tree, snarling its fury.
    "What do you think Mr. Sukoloff did to them?" asked Klyne as a final wave of white faced KIJAC agents ran from the building followed by a sauntering Sukoloff dragging the blabbering chief behind him. The smugness of expression never faltered as he handed over his prisoner to Tretow. "Present for you, Tret, Here’s one for the pot. He’s responsible for massacre. Oh, and I’ve got another message from adorable agent X-20."

This was impossible, the pessimistic thought that had crossed his mind on the way to de-briefing had proved, so it seemed, entirely justified. He read again the report the clerk had given him, it was full of gibberish. Henn gave orders that the prisoner be brought from his cell and placed in an interview room. Then he arranged for Joseph Proctor to join him.
    Together they went to re-interview the prisoner, Henn had passed the report over to Proctor for his opinion on its validity, and it was not long coming.
    "Just what are those cold-blooded Russians doing to these people nowadays?" Proctor spat the question aggressively. "He is terrified out of his tiny mind! Why don’t you tell them to keep the knuckle cracking down to a minimum, they are useless like this."
    "I do, constantly. How much information have we got from the prisoner?" Henn enquired as they stood outside the interview room door.
    "Nothing. It is all nonsense, absolute nonsense. He talks about ghosts and how they are after him. A multitude of crazy, insane things. You have read the report. That is all there is."
    An angry grimace smeared itself across Henn’s face leaving his eyes blazing. One more word, that’s all it would take, just one more word on the subject of ghosts and he was going to blow a fuse.
    They had silently watched their prisoner for some few moments through the two-way-mirror before Proctor and Henn entered the interview room. The KIJAC chief Sukoloff had captured during the skirmish at Base E had been sitting in a chair, elbows resting on the table in the sparse room, staring into space. That however had changed abruptly when the door had creaked, only ever so slightly as it was pushed open. The man had leaped from his chair and thrown himself into the far corner of the room. Where now, still dressed in his gold bedecked uniform, he cowered, hands in front of his mouth shivering like a terrified rabbit.
    Proctor moved a step closer and held out a hand to help the man back into his seat. The chief’s hands shot from his face to his groin, revealing a garbling white contorted face which had saliva dribbling from either side of his quivering bottom lip. As they continued to watch a dark stain of dampness grew over his trousers, steadily spreading outside the area covered by his hands.
    This was all becoming too much for Henn. During his career he had seen all manner of tricks pulled in an attempt to fool the opposition, this he suspected to be just another variation on an old theme. Much to Proctor’s frustration Henn pushed him out of the way, then grabbing the prisoner by the lapels on his jacket he virtually dragged him over to the table and threw him into the chair.
    "Now!" The word cracked around the room like a whiplash. "Now you will tell me exactly what’s going on. Remember I may not be as gullible as some of my agents. But any complaints you may make about any of my men will be investigated. Thoroughly!"
    Although there had occasionally been rumours that their Head of Intelligence could behave in this manner, Proctor, because he never witnessed it, had always believed such rumours to be nothing but office talk. Keeping silent he watched as the now ex-chief at KIJAC Base E began his warbling rambles once again.
    "I’m not afraid of you," he spat, "for all your shouting, Mister Henn. It’s him, he’s the one to be afraid of, you’ll see."
    "This man, is he the one you wish to report?"
    "I know it’s all my fault you see. I know that, even if all I was doing was obeying orders. It’s still my fault because I enjoyed it. King wanted him dead and I thought I’d get automatic promotion to headquarters as a reward. Some reward, command of Base E... And him... I got him, Henn." He withered down onto the table, only to spring back up almost instantly, eye’s burning with hate or fear or both.
    "He’s a creature from Hell. He’s loathsome, he is. Did you know that I shot him in the leg? You didn’t know, did you? No, you didn’t. And you don’t know what he did either do you, Mister know-everything-Henn? Well he laughed, that’s all he did he laughed. At least I’d have the decency to bleed if someone had shot me in the leg. But oh no, not him! Not even one drop! He’s a ghoul that’s what he is."
    While he stopped talking and sipped some water, Proctor and Henn looked across at each other, the silence spoke volumes for them. After he had put the glass back onto the table, he watched the water swirling round and round. Spinning around on his chair he turned himself towards Henn. "He put his arm through my chest! He did it slowly so that I could feel his ice cold fingers wriggle in my lungs... And, he held my heart in his hand. He could have squeezed it and killed me there and then but he said he needed me... Alive." He took and lit the cigarette offered to him and Proctor signalled with his hand toward the mirror. A signal that meant he hoped the watchers on the other side were keeping their tape recorders running. The cigarette being lit, Proctor reclaimed his lighter and asked him to continue his story.
    "I told him that I was sorry, Henn. I even lied and told him that I didn’t mean to kill him. But it made no difference. He knew there had been more to it than just orders." He began rubbing his hands together and slobbered in glee. "Oh, what a feeling... Our agents had chased him a long way. But he had got away from them in his car. Then luckily for me he came straight to me. They’d managed to wound him in one arm.... He’d lost his gun and he was out of breath. Right there in the middle of a shopping street. It was crowded with people... There he suddenly was... Just standing there in-front of me. He never blinked as I raised my gun. He was grinning as I pulled the trigger. It was like slow motion on the movies. Hell, it felt good. I watched my bullet gouge into his chest and his heart explode. Then it tore out through his back taking a fountain of blood with it. He just carried on grinning at me through his bloodstained teeth. I ran! I looked back once and he was still grinning. Now he’s back!" His voice began to rise, till it almost became a scream. "And he’ll kill us all! Don’t go near him, Henn. He’ll even kill you!"
    A strange grunting noise came with Henn’s quizzical look. "What’s he talking about? Who did he kill? Who’s going to kill me?" he asked, barely keeping the sudden flash of nervousness that he felt hidden. Proctor sighed, and shook his head, this was all much like before.
    Insane hysterical laughter suddenly filled the room. "He’ll get to you, Henn. He will. It was so good to pull the trigger. So good to watch his chest explode. But he didn’t fall. It was so good to watch one of the once great Pia agents die. But even then he didn’t fall. He’s out there, Henn, and he’s not your friend any more...!"
    "I do not like this," Proctor said grabbing Henn’s arm. "He is not the first one to say things, I think they are talking about Vacily. Unless you can think of another top agent who worked so closely with you."
    Henn gave a clammy shudder. "I don’t want to hear any more garbage. Do you hear me, Joseph?"
    Proctor had the prisoner taken down to a cell where he could be held in solitary confinement. Then with the lunatic's laughter still ringing in his ears he made his way back to the main office.

    "Vacily?"
    "How did you get in?"
    "We used to be friends remember. I’ve got a key."
    "You’ve not got a flap on have you, Alex?"
    "We’ve lost the ball game!"
    "How?"
    "Tanen and Bird were attacked whist on a mission that only I knew about. Young Klyne was with Steele at the time. I think this clears both men, but not you. Do you talk in your sleep?"
    "Don’t even think of accusing anyone I might happen to be with!" snapped Sukoloff. "We have a clever spy in building. Tighten up security."
    "Vacily, please! I have known you for years. If something has happened which has made you go over, tell me now. Don’t let me have to remove you."
    "Always the Russian thing, isn’t it?"
    "Vacily! I was your partner for years and your friend for longer."
    "Are they all right?" Sukoloff asked changing the subject as a desire to hit Henn surged through him.
    "Bird is, thank God. I hate having women hurt. Tanen has concussion and will be off for a few weeks. Vacily, tell me!"
    "Leave it!" snapped Sukoloff his eyes flashing a warning that Henn knew only too well. The Russian carried little sentiment, even for a friend.

"Where’s Alex?" asked Sukoloff as soon as he walked in.
    "Trying to apprehend X-20. He sent two agents out and is tracking them," said Proctor.
    "He went ahead without telling me? Damn him, how many more people know this?" Without waiting for an answer he ran from the building.

"Sir? You ok?"
    "Ouch! Oh! I feel sick!" Having collapsed onto a heap on the wet grass he managed to pull himself into a sitting position with his head in hands. Slowly his eyes stopped wobbling and began to focus, "Tret? Oh, no, you saw nothing!"
    "Yo, Sir, I did."
    "You saw nothing, repeat that."
    "Won’t work on me."
    "What won’t?"
    "Hypnotism." Tretow, by now sobbing with laughter, planted himself on the grass, "Oh, you should have seen yourself, it was brilliant. I only wish that we could have recorded it. You wouldn’t believe how fast you were spinning."
    "You saw nothing."
    "I did, nothing rotating as violently as you could possibly expect to have any sort of a controlled landing. You bounced along the ground like a demented spinning top and only stopped when you collided with me." As a small child caught playing knock a door run Sukoloff was speechless.
    "Go on, Sir, explain it to me."
    Eventually Sukoloff’s voice returned. "Right, try this. I fell out of an aeroplane."
    "I don’t think so!" Tretow snorted.
    "OK... Oh, yes... I know, I was catapulted here by a new Kijac weapon!"
    "Nope!"
    Sukoloff looked blank, speechless again. "Oh," was all he could say.
    Tretow grinned, saying quietly, "What I would believe, my friend, is that you’re a new Pia weapon!"
    "I’m your superior officer not your friend and you saw nothing."
    "You’re not very good at flying are you?" Tretow’s question was more a case of stating the obvious and was met by silence. Tretow put his hand on Sukoloff’s shoulder, "Come on, Sir. Tell me."
    This time Sukoloff managed a slight grin before replying. "OK, but remember this is top secret and you’re not really cleared for this. I got jet in each shoe that gives me lift. Trouble is that this only prototype and it still has teething troubles. But we’re hoping for more success with next set."
    "Really, try something that I might believe." Clearly Tretow was not convinced.
    "Rocket, you see if..."
    "Definitely not. Nope!"
    "Would you believe hyper-warp particle displacer? No, I didn’t think you would." Sukoloff answered his own question. "What agent is with you?"
    "Bayfield, the Gent, know him?"
    "I know all my agents, he’s your senior, you should be backing him up not asking me silly questions."
    "You need a friend, Sir. Do you know what agents Tzavros and Steele are doing at this moment?"
    "No."
    "I do, they are watching a video, a film show from our surveillance cameras. The games up, Sir!"

"Why Henn want us to look this, this not good film," said Tzavros turning his head away from the screen. Steele half smiled, his partner might try to act hard but he knew the true side of the Russian and watching people die was not his favourite pastime.
    "Try enhancing, that camera must have a fault with the amount of interference on it. Watch how much you tweak it though, you…"
    "So you do better? You have degree in screwdriver?"
    "Not exactly, no." Steele smiled, a little bit of wit battling always relieved the stress of a painful situation.
    "What we should look for? That us going out, looks bad, how many agents we have hiding behind cars?"
    "You’re right, Zav, they’re either hiding or shouting. There’s Bird, Lord she’s throwing rocks at them." They listened to the haphazard way agents called into control and then the hysterical voice of Tanen shouting, "Man down, man down…"
    "Right, Zav, enhance this bit." Tzavros had not needed the instruction and Tanen’s voice echoed clearly through the speakers.
    "He’s hurt, he’s shot…"
    "Who’s down, Tanen?"
    "Sukoloff!"
    "Blast, get that video clearer so I can see. Switch to the left camera. Can you find Tanen?"
    "Neit."
    "Switch to the office camera."
    "Have got Tanen and Vacily. Neit, Vacily, neit…"
    "What’s up, Zav?"
    "We have a saying, when death is certain…"
    "I know, I know, you stand and face what is inevitable, damn Russians." The young men watched as the video played in slow motion the horror they both wished to forget. Innocent people fell in the path of the Kijac guns. Young agents ran for cover or hid. Tanen was running towards the assassins from one side while Bird threw rocks from the other and in the middle a small Russian stood still and smiled. His left arm hung loose at his side, the sleeve of his jacket darkened by blood. He looked up at those watching from the office window and just before his gun slipped from his fingers he saluted and spoke one word. The video interference obliterated the picture and Steele gave the hapless machine another kick.
    "Neit, Vacily!"
    "What? Come on, you lip-read, what’s he saying and to whom."
    "He is, was, saluting Henn. He trained me you know?"
    "Me too, Zav."
    "He saved my life. Brought me to America and trained me. I know him. If he calls you friend you are lucky. If he says word in Russian, you true friend, brother maybe. He salutes Henn then say, droog. If watch carefully between electric storm that spoil video, very careful, for split second you see what I see."
    Steele rewound the tape and watched yet saw nothing that would have upset the young Russian so much. He could see Sukoloff looking up and saluting, then the gun fell, lightning obliterated everything apart from a small portion of the video. Tanen was running towards the place where Sukoloff would be, he was watching the lightning and crying. He dropped to the ground and knelt, his hands covered in blood.
    "No, Zav, I see nothing. What’s so important about Sukoloff calling Henn his friend? They were partners for a very long time."
    "He saying goodbye. He knows he will die. Watch video, watch the man in front of Sukoloff."
    The video bounced as the slow-motion button was pushed and Steele adjusted the sound track again. The only sound was the crackle of static as lightning began to play around the New York Street. He took his eyes away from Sukoloff to watch the man Tzavros pointed to. The man stood laughing and shouting, his gun pointed directly at Sukoloff. For a split second a flash was seen as the gun discharged its deadly cargo then the screen again went dead.
    "God! It’s the Kijak chief from Base E, the one Sukoloff captured."
    "Correct, look again, follow the flash." Steele shook his head but re-wound the tape and watched again. He saw the Kijac man laugh, he saw the gun, saw the flash but this time he saw Sukoloff react to the shot. Stunned, Steele played it again, this time watching Sukoloff. His eyes never left the office window, the smile never left his face but the video clearly picked up the moment the bullet impacted his chest.
    "He was hit!"
    "Da, now watch." Tzavros had quickly re-recorded a sequence and Steele gasped as reality hit home. Tanen was running towards the Kijac chief, Sukoloff saluted Henn, the Kijac gun spoke and Sukoloff’s gun fell from his hand. Lightning played around Sukoloff and Tanen dropped to his knees, he raised bloody hand to signal to the watchers for help. The lightning cleared and Sukoloff walked calmly towards Henn while Tanen stood still as if hit by tranquilizers.
    "What?" shouted Steele. "That man there, the one in the blue shirt, he was dead, no doubt he was dead!"
    "Da, and that man. And that woman. And…"
    "What are we seeing? Time warp or ghosts?"
    "The man with ugly blue shirt, he dead, see," he pointed to the man lying on the ground. "And alive," he said pointing to the same man walking away from his body.
    "Clones?"
    "Kijac has something terrible done. Vacily is dead, yet not."

"There’s nothing on that video apart from the murders."
    "Exactly! I tried to get it. I tried to hide it once I knew what you were. But Mr Tzavros nearly killed me when he saw me in that room, my security level don’t include that room," mumbled Tretow.
    "I trained him well."
    "Come on, Sir. Tell me. I need to know that you know."
    "How about... I’m a ghost?"
    "Yo, that’s it. I believe that."
    "You believe that?" he asked taken aback. "You honestly believe that?"
    "I believe that. My Ma says you are not a ghost..."
    "What else I then, pixie?"
    "You’re something called a Class One."
    "Very novel, we all know a class one is medal you’re given posthumously for bravery above and beyond call of duty."
    "My Ma wishes you to meet someone who will help you with your problems and help you become stronger. All I’ve been told is that he actually works for Pia."
    "No, I don’t think I will," Sukoloff said with a shudder.
    Tretow looked at him silently for a long while before he gave a sad smile. "You’re a Class One. Something special. Don’t forget that."
    "Ghost or Class One it’s still supernatural and I still dead. Tell your mother I sorry, but I don’t need any help."
    "Hi, yah, Sir," Agent Bayfield held his hand over his Complink’s microphone desperately mouthing, "Mr Henn wants to talk to you, Sir."
    "Me? How did he know I was here?"
    "I saw you talking to Tret and told him," Bayfield said still holding out the Complink.
    "Oh, say I’m not here."
    "But, Sir, I already said you were!"
    "Good afternoon, Alex," said Sukoloff into the Complink.
    "Vacily, how many times do I have to tell you that you’re not an active agent, stay out of it. You’re not fit enough... Hang on, how did you know where they were?" By the time Henn had reached the end of his speech Sukoloff was holding the complink at arm’s length. Having waited some seconds to make sure Henn was not going to do any more yelling he retorted. "Two things, Alex. One, Just because you’ve gone flabby don’t think everybody else has. Two, Tighten up your security," he replied sadly. Once they had been inseparable friends now all they could do was bite at each other’s throats.

A jovial spirit, emanating from Henn, was beginning to creep through the tenseness of the last few weeks. Even though still under threat of closure a stay of execution had been granted. Parts of Level 1 had been reopened to a chosen few and no more accidents with his agents had occurred. Extra surveillance cameras had been added to every corridor and he felt certain the spy would be caught. All he had to do now was watch Sukoloff. Henn glanced over to the board where the locations of his field men were marked out in brightly coloured pins, somewhere out there was KIJAC headquarters, and the mysterious SASAM.