CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Halloween.

"You blasted imbeciles," Bajak screamed furiously at two immature looking individuals. "Who do you think you're working for? The over pious, well behaved, goody-two-shoes Pia or the ones who are about to hold world dominance?"
    "Professor, please, we said sorry."
    "Sorry! You say sorry!? I told you not to use any main frame equipment whilst Sasam was being charged, so what did you do? Every piece of heavy electrical equipment we have you turned on and now I've got a blasted overload. Weeks this will take to fix, weeks."
    "Does this mean that we are going to miss Halloween?" growled King slinking out from his dark corner.
    "Yes it does," snarled Bajak.
    "By how much?"
    "Only by two or three days, but this means we can only do one test before the final show."
    "Take those two idiots to the Guardians," snarled King to four yeti like men. 
    "When you've done that, send out an immediate message. Wanted, Pia for test of Sasam." His hideous laugh echoed around the rock walls. "I think just a brief moment with a being from Hell and even the best Pia man will talk. But never mind, if we can't get the best, any agent will do!"

Despite the pointing fingers and sniggers from most of the younger agents, Sukoloff continued to walk around with a permanent grin on his face constantly goading Henn.
    "Want one, Alex? Tell you how to if you do?"
    "I know how it's done, Vacily, thanks." Henn, Proctor and Steele were beginning to get fed up with the proud Russian and his suggestions.
    Nevertheless, PIA headquarters had become relaxed and full of laughter with the threat of world domination diminished. Bayfield found time to try learning the process of telepathy and frequently sat with his fingers in his ears as he practised receiving. This, unfortunately was as efficient as Sukoloff's sending and Tretow usually had to translate the jumbled outcome.
    Sometimes Proctor would join in if the send, receive, was so bad it consisted only of anagrams. Being a crossword addict this was in his line and he joyfully deciphered all that Tretow wrote.

Henn kept his men busy by sending them out on grid runs. Although still on Phase C-Green he was very suspicious the war was not over and maintained his fighting force in peak fitness.
    Young Philip Galloway was kept as far away from Sukoloff as possible. Even though he knew his sister was happy, he was still after Sukoloff's blood. His father was no better, dislike having turned to hatred overnight. Sukoloff knew that one day he would have to tell them he was not quite human. The problem would be getting them to believe it and not thinking him ready for the asylum. 
        One day they would have to be informed. In ten years it would become obvious that he was not ageing. A man of seventy doing back-flips and out-running a man of thirty was not very common. For the moment it must be kept secret.

Bayfield as usual was talking incessantly as he practised another round of sending whilst Tretow slowly cruised the grids.
    "Gent, Please, just for five minutes give it a rest. Your send spelling is worse than Vacily's and trying to give me directions is impossible."
    "How else am I to learn?"
    "Look, wait until we're off duty, that's the third time you've sent me down this blasted road..."
    "Hang on! That's the third time we've had that car behind us. Ask Headquarters to run a check on that number plate. I think we might be being followed."
    The report came back that the number was non existent and Tretow quickly turned the tables by chasing the suspect car. However, the driver was not new to his business, immediately realising Tretow's intentions he stamped the accelerator to the floor and sent the car speeding into the distance with Tretow in hot pursuit.
    "Blast, he's good!" said Tretow realising he was up against an expert driver.
    "Cars better than ours as well!" A short while later Tretow had lost contact and in its stead appeared a large lorry. Despite swerving desperately to avoid it their car over-turned several times and only stopped after coming to rest on its roof under the lorry.
    Bayfield groaned as consciousness returned. Still upside-down, he could see the blue light of cutting gear being used near him and could faintly hear the voice of the fire-fighter. "What the hell's this car made of? Armour plating?"
    "It is, actually!"
    "Oh, hi there, glad you're back, mate. Do you hurt any place?" Bayfield managed another groan, then a smile broke across his face, now he knew exactly how Peter Steele felt, car rolling was his favourite hobby. The only down side was that Henn was not going to be happy having another car wrecked.
    "Tret! How's Tret?" he shouted as he remembered his partner.
    The fire-fighter stopped cutting for a minute and replied, "Tret?... Oh, yes, the guy who was driving. He's over there somewhere trying to get out of a dangerous driving charge. Got a nasty bruise on the head, but nothing serious." Then he continued to cut.
    It was another hour before Bayfield managed to wriggle clear and he ran to where Tretow was still arguing with two burly cops.
    "What's the problem, guys? You OK, Tret?"
    "Yep, I feel fine, I think? Tretow stood white faced holding a bloody hanky to his forehead. "Cor you look awful! The problem is that these guys think that my identity card is from a joke shop and don't believe in any enforcement agency. Cor, I feel weird, as if I've lost something."
    "Know what you mean," said Bayfield wincing as he leaned heavily on the police car. "Think I've broken a rib or eight."
    Then he too showed his identity card and the cops began to laugh, "Come on, mate, do you think we're idiots or something? That's another joke shop card."
    "Try phoning that number!" stormed Bayfield forcefully.
    There was another laugh from the cops, "Yes, of course, biggest trick in the book that one. We was told in training to watch out for that one. You have a guy standing by around the corner with a mobile phone. He answers and pretends he's with this Pia and we let you go. What's his name? Bond? Come on now. Take the ticket like a good boy and stop playing games."
    Bayfield was rapidly growing impatient, "Bond was British Intelligence, I'm with Pia. Now phone that number or at least someone in your lot of a higher rank than you. The bog attendant will do!"
    The policeman reluctantly called in, mainly to humour the two agents of doubtful super spy status. "Guess what I've got here? Two Bond impersonators on a careless driving charge. They say they're the good guys after the bad guys... What agency?... Oh, something they call Pia." His laughter stopped mid chuckle, then after a stuttered, "Yes, Sir, immediately, Sir." He slowly dialled the number given to him by the smug looking Bayfield. After mumbling a slow description of his captives to the operator at PIA Headquarters, he turned and grovelled, "I'm sorry, Sirs. I didn't know. I thought spies was only in the movies. Not here on my doorstep."
    Both agents took on a deadly serious appearance, "Very well, man, but don't ever be so incompetent again." With that they turned and walked away chuckling gleefully, until they remembered just what Henn was going to say. Not only about the loss of possible KIJAC agents, but also of yet another car.

They were right, once Henn knew there had not been a bad injury to his men, he began lecture upon lecture. 
    "You are meant to be fully trained competent operatives. Point one; never start a fast car chase in a built up area. Always, I repeat, always follow at a discrete distance and call in for the back up cars to assist you. That way you're less likely to be noticed.
    "Point two; if the situation is such that a chase takes place, call in for back-up and try to set up a sensible rock block.
    "Point three; If for some daft reason you do give chase in a built up area against a driver better than yourself..."
    "Pah! He wasn't better than us."
    "Pardon? Mr Bayfield, he was better than you because, point one; we haven't got him in our holding cells and point two; they still own a dent-less car, and we don't.
    "As I was saying, point three; if you do give chase in a built up area, make sure the video has film in it before you start filming. That way we have photos that our boys downstairs can enhance. This gives us an accurate description of the car and its occupants.
    "Point four; how did you know it was Kijac? Or for that matter anybody worth destroying a car for? How did you know they weren't joyriders?"
    "They…"
    "Did they fire at you?"
    "Not real…"
    "Did they shout out of the windows, coo-ee, can't catch us little Kijacs?"
    "Not…"
    "Next time go by the rules or you will find yourselves paying your own speeding fines and never, never call New York's finest policemen a dozy, incompetent, thick lot. We work together with them and never against, even if they are going to lock you up. Personally I feel like locking you all up myself... Mr Bayfield?... For goodness sake man remove your fingers from your ears this instant... Mister Bayfield... That's better, oh I give up, Mr Bayfield are you receiving?" Henn sighed as Bayfield again inserted his fingers into his ears and Tretow popped another two aspirin.
    "Gent, are you receiving something?"
    This time Bayfield answered, "Yes, Sir, don't know what though. Tret, what's he saying?"
    "Well, it's not Vacily because I can't hear anything."
    "It's definitely Vacily and he's getting pretty cross. Right, here goes, he says, 'Wakey wakey, go centpath, want za for fly, can have? Wakey wakey up.'"
    "What is that man up to?" asked Henn laughing, "What's za? Say no Tret."
Tretow leapt to his feet and shouted, "I can't hear him, not a murmur. Hang on and I'll send." He sat down again and concentrated hard.
    After a few minutes Bayfield came in again, "He's giving me a headache with all his yelling. Crickey, he said something not very pleasant in Russian... Here comes another message... 'Receive... Stop... I want Sorvazt... Stop... Oy! I say stop, you meant talk me... Stop... Oy... speak speak me, hello, hello? Talk stop... Oh spaghetti it.'"
    The washroom door flew open and Vacily stormed out shouting, "What? Just what have I done wrong, why don't you answer me?" Then he sat while Henn told him about Tretow's inability to receive his telepathy message and Bayfield informed him of the bump on the head Tretow had received.
    "Bugger! Sorry, Almighty Master. Well, oh dear, bother, I think you have a bit of concussion, nothing very serious. Enough to muck about with your communications set though. I think you have a loose wire and will be out of action for a while."
    "Does this mean we can't use the wire," asked Henn ignoring Sukoloff's sarcasm.
    "Hope not! Gent, how's your receive? Because your send is not good, I can't understand you." He read what Bayfield had written and laughed, "Not very good, we'll have to practice both send and receive. This is not good, we are absent a wire. Alex? I don't understand why you can't do it, I hear you sometimes, when you're cross... I hear you a lot lately."
    "No way, old friend, I'm not giving you the chance to read my thoughts. Anyway it gives Gent a headache."
    "And earache," snorted Bayfield.
    "Only because you stick your fingers in so far. And, Alex, your thoughts are the easiest to read, anybody can do it. Girls, pretty ladies, Alex is thinking of girls. Even our old chief could do it. Mr Henn, there's plenty of time to think of that, after you've done your job. Am I right?"
    "I hope I get it back," said Tretow. "What if I've lost my psychic powers as well, that would only leave Gent."
    Without any warning, Henn made a stupid noise and pointed across the table.
    "How about that, Tret?" asked Sukoloff.
    "What?"
    Another stupid noise came from Henn as well as a smug laugh from Sukoloff. "Yes, Tret, you're still psychic and yes, Alex, you're still not."
    Henn continued to point at him as he shakily said, "Don't... Do that. Don't you ever vanish in front of me like that ever again."
    "Did he? Wow I wish I could see him do that."
    "Believe me, Gent, you don't. Now, Vacily, what was your silly message about?"
    "I said I was going to Central Park and I want Zav for flying test. What was so hard about that?"
    Henn reluctantly gave him permission to take Tzavros flying as long as he brought him back in one piece and that he never disappeared in front of him again. Then he added, "Just to be on the safe side. Just in-case that car contained Kijac agents. This department is going to Phase C-Red. That should put everybody back on their toes."

Dwire fiddled with the dials on a small makeshift box, "Klyne, just move your beam splitter over to the left a tad."
    Klyne moved it a few inches while Galloway and Bird moved back to what they hoped would be a safe distance.
    "Right, stop. That should do it this time. Phil, if you turn your beam spreader more towards the holographic plate... Stop!... That's it, I guess."
    Bird was so enthralled that for once she forgot her sore throat. "This is beyond me. Won't it just look like a film? You know, a large blow up of a photo. That won't scare anyone will it?"
    "No, that's the fantastic thing about it," said Dwire giving one of his particular mischievous grins. "The lasers give the photo form and make it look solid. Even if it is blue and sparkling, but there again, that's how it's meant to look. Aren't all ghosts like that?"
    Klyne looked down and a shiver ran through him as Dwire started the count-down.
    "Three... Two... One... On." Dwire turned his laser on at the exact moment Sukoloff landed right at the centre of the beams. Even though still in D Mode the lasers picked him up instantly, blue, sparkling and slightly transparent, but clearly visible. He stood still for a few seconds then uttering an expletive took off.
    Klyne sat on the grass with a bump, Bird remained standing but with her mouth wide open. Dwire fiddled with his laser as Bird managed to speak,            "Wasn't that Mr Sukoloff?"
    "I don't get it!" said Dwire. "How did that happen?"

The look on Henn's face was yet again heading towards crankiness as he headed yet another necessary, but boring meeting and a dishevelled, smoking Russian ran out of his private washroom. It wasn't only that, it was the snort from Proctor as the Russian, uninvited, began to empty all Henn's drawers. Almost frantically as stunned onlookers stood by, each drawer was unceremoniously tipped onto the table, onto the neat piles of files from which Henn was working.
    "What are you doing?... Sukoloff?... Sukoloff, I said, what do you think you're doing?"
    He briefly looked at him and continued to riffle through the piles of papers as he spoke, "I need a photo of me, quickly! Those blasted children have Light Amplified me. Come on, Alex, I know you keep them here somewhere."
    "You do know you're on fire, don't you?"
    "Yes."
    Henn opened one of the few organised drawers that remained and wordlessly handed him a photo. Without a thank you, he ran to the washroom, leaving the office looking as if KIJAC had succeeded in a daylight raid and many high-ranking bemused fingers pointed in his direction.
    "Don't worry, he's foreign you know?" explained Henn. "We're used to his peculiar little quirks, like his choice of reading material when he uses the washroom."

He landed silently next to Dwire and tweaked the mans ear slightly. As Dwire turned frowning to look behind him, Sukoloff swapped the photos in the holographic plate.
    Dwire fiddled with the dials again, removed the photo and swore, "Right you lot! Who's the funny one who swapped the photo's?" he said holding up the photo of Sukoloff. "Well, never mind, let's have one more try. I'm afraid this isn't as affective as I thought it would be, I guess."
    Sukoloff watched them from a distance and sighed, sometimes keeping the secret of being a ghost was difficult. He looked up as Tzavros ambled into view and waited while he sat on a nearby bench. Then Sukoloff did one of his flash appearances beside him and made Tzavros's heart rate treble.
    "Don't, do this thing!"
    "I like the reaction when you jump. We have to wait until those children have finished playing with their toys before we go. Then my friend, it's up, up and away."
    "You're smouldering, Henn light a fire to stop you using chimney?"
    "He hasn't got one or he'd have done it a long while ago. Those blasted children are using lasers. I think Dwire is using a gas laser instead of light."
    It was another hour before the laughing children left and a macabre grin appeared on Sukoloff's face. "Ready, Zav?"
    Tzavros pulled the inevitable face but did not comment, it was far from his nature to back down and admit fear, even if that was what he would most like to do.
    "Good man. Here we go."
    Before Tzavros could do one thing to stop it he was airborne and exactly like somebody on a white knuckle ride his breath seemed to be involuntarily held. Trying to shout whilst holding his breath proved more than difficult and it was several minutes before the air and the words rushed from his mouth.
    "Down put... Me... Down put... Put me down."
    Sukoloff obeyed, not because he decided to respect Tzavros's wishes, but because he was a lot heavier than he looked and this was enhanced by his frantic struggling. So down he was put, right in the middle of the lake.
Stopping only for a rescue and to drop him unceremoniously back on dry land Sukoloff faded to escape the wrath of a half drowned Russian.
    "You're a coward, Sukoloff. Don't you think I this will forgets. You're in allegiance to Steele that's what you are. Wait I sees you. I not forget..."
As Sukoloff flew, Tzavros's voice faded until only the echo remained. "Dead, Sukoloff, you're dead."

Dwire and Klyne watched the traffic as it came to and from the office. Although Klyne was still on easy work he still attended both the morning and evening reports in the hope of getting a small piece of action. This was not likely, with New York on Phase C, most agents were being sent to other bases with more immediate needs. It was rumoured Dwire would be going back to London with Mr Proctor as there was a potential threat to the Crown jewels.
    They watched as Steele walked proudly into the office, as usual with his head high ignoring all those in his path. There were rumours around the base about PIA's Special Team. Talk was that the Specials were chosen out of the best agents and when they walked the corridors' others stood back in awe. They had been nicknamed the suicide squad and if they were called, it was known something big was on somewhere which only these elite could tackle.
Their pride evident, their secrecy immense. They would laugh until a none SEPIA appeared then remain silent until he left. Each one sported a new badge showing a Greek god with immense feathered wings holding the Earth Above him was written the word, sepia and below, pia It had become every agents dream of not only becoming a top twenty, but being the elite, a SEPIA Special.

Henn smirked noticeably and Steele let out a chortle as Tzavros stamped his way in, dripping as he did.
    "Dead is. You see if he isn't!"
Lowering his head, Dwire reminded himself to try to stay on the right side of Tzavros. He sighed deeply and wondered just what made these men tick, what was it that made them get to the very top and survive the toughest jobs? Would he every get to being as good as them? He longed to be able to give orders and have them obeyed unquestioning.
He wondered how an agent such as Tretow got to be a member of SEPIA. All he had achieved was to be Bayfield's back-up man. He was good, yes, but others were rated higher than him. Yet he was promoted to communications officer with Bayfield only as standby communications. None of it seemed fair, perhaps Galloway was right in saying they only looked after their own. No, he knew that not to be true, Galloway's bitterness was rubbing off on him.
Bayfield walked in chuckling as he practised his TT expertise with a distant Sukoloff and inadvertently laughed loudly just as the ill-natured young Galloway came in.
    "What's so funny, mate?"
    Bayfield continued to laugh but stopped as a furious fist hit him and Galloway began yelling, "I've had enough of you so called top guys and your sniggering behind peoples backs."
    "Mr Galloway, I think that's just about enough of that kind of behaviour," said Henn as his blood-pressure soared again. "We have explained to you several times that your sister and Mr Sukoloff are very much in love, but you don't ever seem to get this into your brain."
    Leaping forward, Galloway grabbed Henn by the collar forcing him to retaliate by reminding all onlookers that the once Chief Enforcement Officer still knew all his training. Galloway, slightly stunned, picked himself up from the floor to again verbalise.
    "You're a fraud, Henn! A bastard like all the rest. I've seen you all laughing and congratulating him. You call the dirty Russian bastard smart!... Smart? You think it's smart to get a girl pregnant? A girl half your age? What have you got, half a deck missing or just water for brains?"
    Before Henn could answer, Bayfield did with, "Clear off!" to which Galloway instantly answered with another knock down punch.
    "Who does he think he is?" shouted Bayfield whilst being restrained by Henn.

     "Let me go, Alex, one punch I can take, but two? Let me teach the child a few lessons in manners."
    "Come on then," shouted Galloway bitterly. "Let's see you try. You think you're all so big don't you. Well, if you want to live, don't you ever tell me to clear off again."
Bayfield unfortunately wasn't on his wave-length, "Clear off!"
    "Will all non Sepias clear the office immediately," yelled Steele.
    "Oh! Clear off! I thought you said clear off!" said Henn laughing loudly.
    "You're mad, all of you. Clear off, oh I thought you said clear off!" repeated Galloway sarcastically.
    The washroom door opened and the molester of unsuspecting young lady's walked out mumbling, "Who sent the distress signal?"
    "Well, I think I did," said Henn. "I thought, that blasted Russian and his problems. Just one day of peace that's all I wanted. Why don't you get yourself down here and sort your own problems out."
    "That's what I thought you said. Next time say please or I don't come. Now, Galloway, sit." Galloway stared at him in disbelief but sat down the second time that Sukoloff told him.
    "Now that you're sat, I will try to explain to you about the Sepias..."
    "Vacily? I don't think you should," warned Steele.
    "As I was saying. To you and your father what I have done is wrong."
    "Course it's wrong, you..."
    "Don't interrupt me. I'm not saying that it is right. I think if my daughter was seeing a man twice her age I would be concerned. I hope I would give her my full support. I would also be worried that the man, being so much older could not give the girl and the child the life long support that they need."
    "You can't, you bast..."
    "You can never be sure of anything, I might be around, fit, for another twenty years, many people are you know? There again, someone of thirty might be dead tomorrow. That's life you see. Jodie and I didn't plan this baby. We didn't bother taking any precautions because... Well, because I picked up a virus that meant I couldn't father a child, or so I thought..."
    "So what you're saying now is... The child isn't yours? You're saying that our Jodie has been sleeping around? Well in my opinion you can't blame her with an old man as a lover."
    Steele coughed and Bayfield laughed again as Sukoloff's anger became apparent by the slight green hue to his skin. Henn placed the inevitable glass of vodka in his hand and whispered, "Drink, my pretty leprechaun, your mould's showing."
    Managing a slight smile Sukoloff continued, "I have no doubts as to the paternity of that child. All I'm saying is that it was unplanned. The virus I had was misdiagnosed and I'm very glad it was. We are being allowed a gift from God, one of his own angels from Heaven. Now to the Sepias, one day you will be a member. It ranks as the most top secret project in the whole of Pia and Jodie is in that group."
    "Trying to bump her off are you?"
    "She's never in danger. Never will she be allowed to go into active. One day she will tell you about it, when you are ready. Once you know about the Sepia team, our work and our secrets, then you will begin to understand why my age doesn't matter. And why our angel is so wonderful and why nobody was told."
    "You didn't tell anyone bec…"
    "Shut up! All I can say to you and your father, is that I'm sorry. I promise I will look after her for ever and if I'm not around, others in our team will watch over them. Keep this hate you have for me away from this building and the people in it. There will come a time when all here must fight together to win. Your fight is with me so keep it that way." With that Sukoloff dismissed the still fuming young man. As soon as Galloway left, he turned to the men in the office.
    "Well don't look at me like that! What else was I to say? Okay, so he is going to look through every medical book in the world. What virus did I have? How about mumps? No? I couldn't very well tell him that I was dead could I?"
    "Calm down, old chap," laughed Henn. "You're starting to look dead again. Either that or the virus you contracted was Martian flu, which sends all victims green... Yuck! Vacily, turn it off."
    "I've been practising that one. You never know when it might come in handy."

Tzavros managed a very slight change of expression and Henn sighed loudly, Steele however did not bother to look up from his book. Bayfield flicked a piece of paper at the shadowy lady in the corner of the office, then he yawned and leaned back into his chair. Tretow casually passed his pen through a two foot spider and Proctor shook his head sadly at the werewolf crouched on top of the computer.
    Dwire watched in disbelief, not one yell, not even a slight shiver. They all looked bored. Then a reaction! Bird and Galloway gasped as a small cat floated past them yowling loudly. This vanished to be replace by a large white jug that promptly emptied itself over Dwire and was closely followed by a bag of flour.
    Dwire yelled loudly.
After a few more minutes of the flour and water covering three stunned agents, Henn stood and pressed the intercom. "Would the children who are playing with holographs remove them from my office this instant."
Dwire, Galloway and Bird slowly stood. "A ha, you three. I might have guessed it would be you. Clear the mess up like good children."
Tzavros smugly addressed the three puzzled agents. "You have lot to learn about Pia and holographic projection. Firstly, let me tell to you that security already informed us you put such a device into office. Secondly, it take years to perfect holographs. Like water and flour technique. If you must play with big boys at least come up with something original. This crass thing happens every year from new agents and frankly it getting boring. Next year I want better show, something that will really scare me... Dwire! You missed some flour over there."
Henn found it difficult keeping a straight face, but not as much as Bayfield and Tretow as they watched a Russian doing the latest Cossack dance on top of the table.

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