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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love Who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait For No One

Chapter 4 - Forces of Nature

As a rule, FOX preferred to hire doctors with superior carving and sewing skills rather than those with a lot of academic qualifications. After all, the bulk of their work involved removing bits of foreign metal from the agents and closing them back up again. Nevertheless, the Academy had access to the best specialists in the country, and sent their agents to see them when necessary. But Silver did not trust them any more than he trusted any other doctor, which is to say, not at all. So he sat across the desk from the specialist with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back as far as the chair would allow him, with a scowl on his face.

The specialist had given enough bad news in his career to recognize the pose. The elderly, slightly overweight black bear checked the abridged medical file that the Academy had sent over by courier. He recognized the names of the doctors who had treated the silver fox over the years and knew their specialties. He added them up in his head. Just as he suspected, the agent had been treated by trauma surgeons and physiotherapists more often than he had seem generalists by a factor of ten to one. From this he deduced two things; that the fox was one of those few agents whose profession was dealing in death, and that he would rather be practicing it on the doctor than hearing what the bear had to say. The only way to handle this sort was to be blunt.

The doctor told Silver the results of the tests he had just concluded and waited for the inevitable reaction.

"Are you certain?" Silver asked.

"Yes." The specialist answered patiently. "I ran every test twice. We could do them again, or you could see another specialist if you like, but the results will be the same."

"Can't you fix this with an operation?"

"No. The damage is irreversible."

"Is there a cure? Some sort of radiation therapy? Drugs? Lasers? Acupuncture?" There was a desperate note in Silver's voice.

"Short of a miracle, or a transplant, no. And you do not qualify for a transplant, but," the specialist pointed to a rack on the wall where samples of his devices were on display, "we can make you quite comfortable in the meantime."

"So this is the end then." Silver said flatly, thinking back on all his years at FOX.

The doctor sighed. "We may have been able to slow it down and extend normal function if it had been detected earlier." The specialist flipped through the file again. "You have probably been suffering from the symptoms of this condition for some time now and compensating for them. But you are not the type to run to the doctor for something minor like seeing double or feeling like your head is splitting in two, are you?" Being fairly good at reading body language himself, Silver saw the unspoken opinion that Silver was an idiot in the doctor's expression. It didn't help Silver's attitude.

"We had a French word in the army for people who were constantly running off to the medics for the slightest excuse." His steely blue-grey eyes challenged the doctor. The doctor returned his glare with an indulgent, even condescending, gaze.

"And there is a word in Spanish for those who are too obstinate to admit their vulnerability." The specialist retorted.

"Macho." Silver stated.

"No." The bear said shaking his head sadly. "Muerto."

* * * * * * * *

Marcel and Geno met outside the Academy day care centre after work. The centre was a recent innovation, an effort to drag the agency into the new millennium. With the Academy growing in size and more females mixing motherhood with careers it was almost a necessity. At least this way any office gossip overhead by the cubs and kits would not be repeated outside the Academy. The Director, the walrus known as W, was even considering starting a private school for the Academy's offspring.

The centre was run by a gruff old ex-agent who still used her former codename. The young ones, as well as their parents, referred to her as Ms. Brown. Even Silver and the Chief of staff called her that. Only W ever called her by her real first name, Melinda. She had threatened to kill anyone who snickered on overhearing it or dared to use it themselves. Given her record for tracking down and eliminating African warlords and terrorists in the sixties and seventies it was a threat most took seriously.

Vikki had left a message that it was okay for Marcel and Geno to pick up Leslie, otherwise they would be turned away. The day care was housed in one of the old safe houses, and was accessible only through the former security post. It was essentially a box within a box, and Ms. Brown occupied the space between them. What Ms. Brown lacked in charisma she made for in combat skills, despite having gained twenty kilograms since retiring. Since any pervert or ex-mate wishing to abduct a child would have to get through her first, it was considered the safest day care in Canada. Marcel was glad that Vikki had remembered to notify her, he would not look forward to challenging the old vixen.

"Leslie slept most of the day, so he'll be full of beans tonight. You two bringing him back tomorrow?" She asked as they signed the visitors form before being allowed in to get Leslie.

"Sure, I mean, I guess." Marcel answered. "Unless, you know, Silver ..." He suddenly realized that he did not know how long their stint as babysitters was going to last. Silver was the kit's father, and he could show up anytime to take over. He might even be back at Vikki's apartment now waiting for them. Which would mean that he would have seen the damage to the nursery, and might even have caught Joel over there. Marcel felt his balls retract instinctively to a safe position between his pelvic bones. God, I wish I could do that on demand, he thought, it would come in so handy in a fight.

But before he had time to speculate on his fate, he was relieved to see the familiar figure of the tall silver-haired fox coming up the walkway to the day-care centre. Silver strolled slowly with his paws in his pockets, which was unusual for him. But it was a good sign for Marcel; if Silver was pissed he would be striding purposefully with clenched paws swinging back and forth.

Geno had gone in to fetch Leslie. Marcel waited for Silver, hoping to intercept him and ease into the subject of the defiled apartment. When Silver drew closer, Marcel forgot all about the apartment. The senior agent looked terrible.

Silver looked much older than his fifty-two years. His eyes were rimmed with red and watery. His fur hung slack from his face. His shoulders slumped with fatigue and his head was bowed as if the weight of the world rested on it. Worst of all, his ears were down in the position of surrender. It looked strange and out of place on the fox that had never given up before, no matter how long the odds of survival. It made Marcel afraid.

"Hello Marcel." He greeted his protégé. "Sorry that Vikki had to call you guys in at the last minute. How did it go last night?"

"Oh, really good, great. The fun never stopped. I mean, until we went to bed, put him to bed that is. In his own bed." Marcel knew he was babbling so he closed his mouth, however Silver did not seem to notice. The old fox was signing in under the watchful eye of Ms. Brown.

"He probably kept you up all night crying for his mother." Silver apologised. "I'll take from here, but thanks for stepping in like that. Really."

Marcel studied his boss carefully. Silver looked ready to collapse. He had probably been up for at least thirty-six hours now and faced another six or eight before Leslie ran out of steam and went down for the night. If the rumours going around were true Silver had been working with the operations staff all night on the mission that Vikki and Fett had been sent on, and would likely be back in the Ops Centre as soon as he could get away again. Marcel saw an opportunity to delay the inevitable confrontation.

"You look pretty tired Silver. And Ms. Brown said that Leslie is just getting revved up. Why don't Geno and I watch him for another night or two?"

"I do feel a little under the weather." Silver commented, turning to Marcel. "But you don't look like you slept so good last night. You sure you guys want to do this?"

"Do what?" Geno enquired as she emerged carrying Leslie in one arm and his bag of day-care supplies in the other. Leslie was holding on with his arms wrapped around her generous bosom and his chin resting in her cleavage.

"Leslie warm." He murmured. Silver turned his back to Marcel and reached for his kit.

"Watch Leslie for another night or two." Marcel said in a neutral tone while signalling frantically behind Silver. "We're having a wonderful time, the three of us. It would be a pleasure. You must have a lot of work to do too, so I tell you what. Take a little mini-vacation from parental responsibility for a few days while you work the Ops Centre for this mission. We have nothing on the go at the moment. Geno and I will take care of the little scamp until you get a chance to catch up on your rest." Geno, having interpreted his impromptu charades correctly, nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, "Silver said, holding up the squirming kit, "I suppose that would be a good idea. Just for a day or two." Suddenly he pulled Leslie to his chest and hugged him so hard that the little fox said "Leslie, hurt" in a tone that was part complaint, part confusion. Geno thought that she saw a tear slip out of Silver's eye before it was absorbed by Leslie's fur.

"Take good care of him." Silver said as he handed Leslie back to Geno. On that note he turned and strode away from the day-care centre. His words had sounded so ... final.

Marcel and Geno looked after him, at a loss for words. A series of sharp sounds from behind them brought them back to reality. They turned to find Ms. Brown clucking her tongue and shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" Marcel asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Ain't it obvious kiddo? His time has come." Ms. Brown said sadly.

"What are you trying to say?" Geno asked, as she clutched Silver's kit close to her.

"No one lasts forever in this business. Some go quick, and some go slowly, but none of us like to linger. There's nothing worse when your glory days are done than hanging around just waiting to die."

"There's not much of a choice is there?" Marcel said, gazing in the direction that Silver had gone. "He's the only senior agent we have left."

"Oh, there are a couple of choices." Ms. Brown continued shaking her head as she turned to go back into the day-care centre. "There are always choices. Question is ... which one is he going to pick?"

* * * * * * * *

Three time zones away it was still early afternoon and Vikki was still going through the files looking for clues as to what the former security officer might have found. There were cryptic notes added to financial statements, addresses circled on procurement papers, and items highlighted on supply inventories, but nothing that came right out and said what he thought was going on. It could be a simple case of misappropriation of funds, or overcharging the government, but was that worth killing an RCMP officer over? Probably not, unless someone panicked, and a number of the platypus's senior staff seemed to be on the verge of panic. But the high degree of nervousness could be from the immanent inauguration of the system, she admitted.

Bardo Gaya-Dari sent another platypus down at noon to show her the way to the dining room. When she commented on all the bustle and activity in the project headquarters he informed her that the storms were going to strike earlier than anticipated.

"We have to start opening canals and closing dams now in order to have the maximum effect." He told her as they wove their way through a crowd that was mainly composed of platypus, otters, alligators and frogs. "Although the announcement won't be made until after the storm passes and our success is obvious, we are actually going to be fully operational tonight or early tomorrow."

"It takes that much time?" She was surprised that in this age of electronics the process would take so long.

"It's a delicate procedure." The platypus informed her. "Things have to be done in a certain order not only to maximise the water capture and flow, but also so that we don't overload the control system. It is designed to compensate for rainfall predictions, irrigation needs, and electrical grid demand automatically. Too much input all at once can potentially put one part of the system into conflict with another. The results could be disastrous."

"I noticed that a lot of money and effort was put into securing the control system from cyber attack." She mentioned

"Yes." Her guide admitted. "Imagine what would happen if a hacker broke in and sent a number of contradictory commands into the system at a time like this. Chaos."

Bardo Gaya-Dari sent a note apologising for his absence due to the accelerated schedule so she ate lunch alone. The menu seemed to consist of salads made from plants that grew in or near the water, along with a selection of shellfish and fresh-water fish. Looking around at the lunchtime crowd she was surprised to see how many platypuses were in the room. There seemed to be hundreds of them, and she had passed at least as many in the hallways. Assuming that the labs and control rooms held as many there could be thousands of them. She was not even aware that there were so many of them on the face of the earth. They must eat in shifts, she thought.

Some of the platypuses at a nearby table were looking at her from the corner of their eyes, obviously talking about her but trying not to look like it. Vikki was used to males doing this; it came with being over six feet tall with a model's looks and style. She usually ignored them, but she was curious as to what the Tasmanian natives would think of her. She stared straight ahead but watched them with her peripheral vision, and swivelled one ear to focus on their conversation.

She was disappointed. They were speaking partially in English and partially in a language that she did not recognize. Probably Tasmanian, she supposed. But her memory had been honed to a fine point at the Academy, and she had always had an ear for languages, so she noted the words that seemed to feature in their conversation. 'Lubra' seemed to be their word for her and 'Palawan' for themselves. One of them seemed to want to use his 'Waddy' on her. She had a pretty good guess as to how that one translated. After the inauguration they were all going to the 'Pindari' to wait for the big event. Vikki would include phonetic versions of the words in her request for information to FOX headquarters that night, just to satisfy her curiosity.

After lunch Vikki continued her search. As the afternoon drew on she realized that she was no closer to discovering what it was that the rottweiler had suspected than she was to finding Jimmy Hoffa's body. The former security officer's notes were just too cryptic and Silver still refused to tell her where Hoffa's final resting place was. She needed to get some of the analysts at FOX and their computers working on the information. Maybe one of them will spot the pattern overnight that it had taken the rottweiler several months to see. She could have used the computer in the office to transmit her data, but she no longer trusted it after seeing the little alligator Minko Imastabi break into it so easily. She had a much more secure laptop and a satellite link that she would set up in the room Gaya-Dari had provided on site.

She had just decided to call it quits and head to her room when a knock came on the door. She opened it to reveal the head of project security, the big gator, Micco Holata. But to her shock Holata was not alone. Standing behind him, trying not to look embarrassed was her arms-length, undercover, supposed to have his ass back in town, back-up agent, Dongo Fett. She could not keep the expression of surprise from her face, and she saw Holata's eyes narrow in suspicion at her reaction. She had to act fast to cover up.

"Oh my God, you startled me." She said breathlessly and put a paw to her chest as if to help her breathing. "I was expecting the little platypus, to escort me to the dining room for diner, and when I saw you two! Especially your fiend with the metal arm. I thought for a moment it was someone with a gun holding you hostage Micco." She finished by resting her paw on the alligators broad chest.

The suspicion cleared from his face, replaced by a leer that would be considered obscene in thirty-five states and two Canadian provinces. Whether it was the use of his first name that did the trick or the helpless female routine, or both, Vikki did not know, or care. She had control of the situation again and could lead it where she wanted, if she acted quickly.

"So, who is your one-eyed, metal-armed companion?" She asked. And what is doing up here? She added to herself.

"This is Dongo. Dongo, Ms. Beausoleil." Holata made the introductions. "I've just hired Dongo. We will need a few extra paws on security detail when the news breaks about the project. I'm taking him over to the control centre to show him around but I thought that I would stop and give you some news on the way. Minko Imastabi has disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Vikki asked suspiciously. "That's quite the coincidence considering the word only went out to detain him this morning. How close were you and he anyway Holata?"

The security chief frowned at her reverting to his last name, but seemed more upset at the insulation that just because he and Imastabi were both alligators that he may have tipped the other off.

"Choctaw and Seminole don't interact much." He snarled. "Different territories, different culture ... different prey." He leaned in close to Vikki as he said the last, giving her a good view of dozens of sharp white teeth and the full effect of his carnivore's breath. It smelled like rotten meat. Vikki coughed and waved a paw in front of her face. "And yet we had nothing against them Choctaw either," he said in a softer tone as he leaned back, "so I suppose the question is legit. Naw, I didn't tip him off, lady. He probably lost his nerve when they found the body and sent a replacement so quick. He seemed kinda jumpy this morning, don'tcha think?"

Vikki had to agree that much was true. "I think that my predecessor was on to something, but I have no idea what. Do you have any idea who might want to sabotage this project?" She asked.

"Not the environmentalists." He snarled. "They would get more mileage out of exposing the true scope of the project. The media is their weapon, and there has been not a hint in the press or on their greenie websites."

"Is there anyone who would stand to profit from the project's failure?"

"A couple of rival developers, fossil fuel companies, but no one who would profit enough to risk bumping off an RCMP officer." He answered very quickly. "I think you may be barking up the wrong tree, reading too much into this. Minko and the rottie, well they was sweet on the same gal down at the, uh, clubhouse."

"The clubhouse?" She asked with one brow raised.

"Its, a private club, sortta. Ain't it Dongo?" Fett nodded his head vigorously in agreement, but his pained expression said otherwise. Having worked undercover with the biker gangs and their 'recreational' clubs, Vikki did not need to be Picasso to get the picture.

"Yeah, they was both hot for a certain mink, but the rottie, he slapped Minko around and told him to beat it. He didn't know it, but Minko had really fallen for that whor ... lady."

From what she had learned about the dedicated, slightly obsessive, security officer he was not the type to risk his career, or visitation rights, on a hooker. But she kept the thought to herself. Just then, a muskrat in slacks and a white shirt interrupted them. He told the alligator that Gaya-Dari wanted to see him in his office for a minute. Micco Holata told Fett to wait for him there, that he would be right back.

As soon as the big gator was out of sight Vikki pulled Fett into the office and shut the door. She gave him the signal the Academy used to keep silent while she confirmed that the surveillance system was disabled. Felling a bit paranoid, she even pulled the blinds, although they were four floors up and there was nothing between them and the horizon.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded in a low angry voice.

"I couldn't help it." Dongo plead, spreading his paws. I was working my way in with the locals one second and being challenged by mister testosterone there the next. I would have been run out of town if I didn't go along. Besides, they want me to help with the rough work, so maybe they will let something slip about what's really up around here."

"You don't trust the gator?" She gave him a questioning look.

"No. They are terrorizing the locals, running the place like Chicago in the roaring twenties. I think maybe the mob may have infiltrated. A project this big, there's a lot to skim off the top and plenty of vice of the job site. Hijacking construction equipment, reselling the copper for the hydro lines and providing untaxed liquor for the workers. You need a contact in security to operate all those scams. I think the gator is involved." Fett said earnestly. "I even think I know where they might be keeping the stuff before reselling it. There's a berm along Highway Two and the locals say that anyone that goes close to it gets roughed up. Those that have gone beyond it have never been seen again."

"Do you think Gaya-Dari is in on it?"

"He might be tolerating it. The mob has a powerful influence in the construction industry, but involved? Probably not. A little vice and asset redistribution is just the cost of doing business."

"Hmmm. This does sound like the mob." Vikki made a quick check of the hall to see if Micco Holata was returning yet. The coast was still clear. "See what you can find out Fett, but be careful. Your main responsibility is to back me up." Fett nodded his head in acknowledgement. "And don't try to contact me. Avoid me if you can."

"What are you going to do?" Fett asked her.

"I'm going to order some satellite imagery of the area. I want to see what they are up to on Highway Two." Finished with Fett, Vikki went to open the blinds. At this time of day they weren't doing anything anyway, the sun was on the opposite side of the building. But she paused before raising it and examined it carefully.

"What's wrong?" Fett asked her.

"The blinds," she twisted them to show him, "somebody has cut them up." Fett could see that a number of slits had been cut into the blind.

"Does it spell out a word?" He wondered. "Or make a picture of anything?"

"Not that I can see." Vikki angled the blind one way then the other and even looked behind it. "Maybe it was like that when the rottweiler moved into this office. Maybe he did it himself as some kind of nervous tic; like Silver's whistling."

"Silver whistles?" Dongo asked, confused.

"Like a classical tea kettle." Vikki said absently as she pulled a small digital camera out of her bag. "I'll send these back to the FOX Ops Centre for analysis just in case."

Vikki made Dongo Fett wait in the hall for the alligator's return. After they were gone she packed up her things, including the files she had downloaded onto a thumb drive, and went to her room in the nearby executive dormitory. She locked herself in her room, set up the satellite modem and connected it to her laptop. Once she had signed on to FOX's secure site she began to transmit the data, her report and the various requests for the information she wanted. When she was done she sent short personal emails to Silver and Marcel. Finished for now, she logged off and shut everything down before locking it away in a suitcase that looked deceptively fragile.

While she had been transmitting her data the images of each photo and page had flashed across the screen of her laptop. Vikki had hardly noticed them, but the pin-hole camera in the corner of her room caught them all.

* * * * * * * *

Marcel and Geno got back to Vikki's apartment shortly after six p.m. The delay at the day-care centre had meant heavier traffic for the drive and that did not help their fatigue or frayed nerves. Marcel had also given Joel the keys to the apartment, so they had to wait in the lobby until the lemur buzzed them in. By the time they got to Vikki's door Leslie was whining for his supper, and about ready to pitch a fit. The same went for Marcel, and Geno.

"Hey Guys, come on in." Joel greeted them enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically for Geno's current mood. She was against the idea of letting the perverted little lemur in Vikki's apartment in the first place.

"Get outta my way." She snarled, showing an impressive array of sharp, white dentation. Joel looked hurt. Marcel waved his paws and shrugged to indicate that it was a female thing. Geno stepped around Joel and headed for the kitchen and the fridge, where Leslie's sippy cup was already filled with milk for just such an emergency. She returned with the kit sucking contentedly on the cup's beak to find Joel explaining his afternoon's efforts to Marcel.

"So the harness is in the nursery, but up out of the way where the kid can't get at it, unless he can climb sheer walls, that is."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Marcel mumbled tiredly. "Come on and show us how it works."

"I can't believe you two." Geno said with disgust as she followed them to the nursery. She found the idea of using Joel's bondage restraints to keep the kit from wandering in the night just a little bit too creepy. "Doing this to a baby."

"He's not a baby, he's a toddler." Marcel said wearily. Geno had ragged him all the way home for calling in Joel. "And a damned tricky one at that."

Joel gave a little half-hearted "Ta-dah" as they stepped into the nursery. Geno stood open mouthed with shock. She had expected black leather straps, hemp ropes, cuffs and maybe even a chrome chain or two, but this, this was completely unexpected.

Instead of a rack and restraints there were three video cameras mounted in the corners of the room up by the ceiling and what looked like a new crib. The cameras were connected by black coaxial cable to a central control box, also mounted high on the wall where Leslie could not get at it. All of the coax and power cables were neatly arranged in a plastic rack. A wiring harness, she recalled it being called. The only difference between the old crib and the new one that she could see was that this one had a hinged lid with latches. The quality of the woodwork of the lid matched the original imported crib exactly.

"Wha-ta?" Was all that she could produce.

"Leslie, bed." The kit seemed to answer her, slightly more articulately, and clapped his paws with glee.

"Yes," Joel agreed happily. "Leslie's bed, all fixed and with a brand new lid." He walked over to demonstrate the latches. "Not only is it impossible to open from the inside, it has a quick release in case of emergencies." A touch on a senor pad resulted in the lid flying open and the bars dropping to the floor. Joel pointed to the electronic on the ceiling as he continued. "And the latest in video surveillance and motion detectors. If the little Houdini does manage to squeeze his way between the bars this will pick him up before he gets more than a metre away from the crib and alert you. There's twelve hours of recording time too so we can analyse it and figure out how he's doing it. But I don't think that you will need it." He slapped the lid back down. "This baby is solid."

Geno walked over with Leslie on her hip and examined the crib closely. Leslie squired to get free but she did not trust it enough to let him get in it yet. It was the same crib, she realized. The holes Marcel had made jury-rigging the net and nailing the table to it the night before were neatly filled and stained to match the original wood. She ran one digit over it in appreciation.

"Who did this work?" She wondered.

Joel blushed. A hard thing for the black-faced lemur.

"Joel did it." Marcel answered for him. "Along with being the resident electronics expert before Algorath came along and the resident forger, Joel restores antique furniture."

"It's the same as forgery, really." Joel said, embarrassed. "You just have to make it look like the original. In 3-D though. You, uh, won't let this get around will you?"

Geno shook her head. "Naw, no problem. But how did Marcel know about this?"

"I make his skateboards now. The Academy markets them and uses the profits to offset some of the expenses, like the computers Marcel keeps breaking and the cars Silver writes off."

Geno set Leslie down and he immediately scrambled into the crib and pulled the bars up behind himself. "Leslie, bed." He reaffirmed and pretended to go to sleep.

"Well you did good Joel." Geno leaned down to the lemur's level and planted a kiss on his cheek. "And you did good by calling him in Marcel." She added, turning to her mate.

"Where's my kiss?" Marcel asked slyly.

"You'll get yours later, don't you worry." She unlatched the crib and lifted Leslie back out. "Now it's time for liddle Weslie to eat his suppah! Isn't it Weslie?"

"Leslie, hungwy."

* * * * * * * *

Kain Algorath was working the night shift in the Ops Centre again when Vikki's report, data and requests arrived. As the duty officer he recorded everything that came in and noted what action was taken with each item. He would send her data to the analysts, her photos to the imagery interpreters and her requests to the various sections or agencies that could fulfill them. When the answers started to come back in whoever was on duty would match them to the requests and send them to Vikki. The analysts would get everything. Some, like Kain, would run the data through complicated computer models to look for patterns. Others, like Geno, would read it all and stare at the pictures until something clicked inside their brain.

It was not complicated work at this stage. While the larger files downloaded, Kain started to search through the internet and some specialized data bases automatically, cutting and pasting text almost unconsciously as the results came in. He would do a directed search later if he had too. While his paws worked, his mind wandered.

Vikki's report reminded him of his last getaway, his latest visit with FOX's deepest of deep-cover agents, the assassin known as 'The Perfect Stalker', the cloud leopard Ophelia Cassidy Sommer.

* * * * * * * *

A year and a bit ago, the original Perfect Stalker had been hired to eliminate Silver and as many of his fellow FOX agents as possible. But Silver had anticipated the Stalker's moves and had killed the assassin in an epic standoff. Ophelia had been one of the most promising students of the Academy at the time, but she was obsessed. Believing that Silver had murdered and abandoned her father in the Balkans, she had come to FOX to kill him. Silver had managed to set her straight before she succeeded, but not before she had murdered an innocent, albeit obnoxious, fellow student. By the code of the Academy, and the secret legislation that governed it, she had to die. But Silver had come up with an alternative.

Ophelia had been poisoned, and then given the first of the monthly doses of the antidote that would keep her alive as long as she cooperated. Silver had Ophelia take the Stalker's place, and let the rest of the Academy believe that she had been dismissed, or worse. Now she lived on borrowed time, killing for the allied intelligence community when they needed deniability, and taking commissions for assassinations when they permitted, usually when one criminal wanted to eliminate another.

She and Kain had been lovers, briefly, before she became the Stalker. They had been reunited, equally briefly, when she had come to rescue the rest of the FOX agents from the mad Werewolf of Odessa. But in that short interlude she had managed to slip him a contact number, by carving it in his chest.

Since then, they had embarked on a dangerous affair. Ophelia, Cass to him, was under sentence of death never to contact any of her former associates at FOX. Kain, by contacting her, had committed treason, and so his life was in jeopardy too. Keeping their romance secret required all of their skills.

For their latest rendezvous, Kain had taken his accumulated overtime and put in for a week off. He had listed his location as 'hiking on the Rideau trail' a pathway that ran from Ottawa to the former capitol of Kingston. His contact number was a cell phone that could be traced to the appropriate cellular tower for his registered itinerary. However, it actually forwarded his calls to an international, but untraceable, cell phone. He had parked his car at the Ottawa end of the trail on Friday night and taken a bus back from Kingston on Sunday night a week later. But the time between was spent elsewhere. Using his training, his hacker skills, his family connections and some of the family fortune he was entitled to, he managed to get out of the country unobserved to meet with Ophelia.

They had met at a resort in Thailand. One of those exclusive all-included places where the staff do everything for you but wipe your ass, and even that could be arranged. It was a discrete place, with sound proof rooms, shy guests, and an incorruptible staff. They had spent the week in blessed isolation. Kain could still recall every word, every look and especially every touch from the time they spent together. One conversation in particular came to mind while reading about the massive water project in Vikki's report.

Cass and he had been on the beach, but not right in front of the hotel. That stretch was filled with hawkers and local entrepreneurs and neither of them felt like renting a jet ski, going para-sailing or taking a massage at the moment. So they had gone almost a kilometre down the beach to be alone, swim, and build sand castles in the wet sand. They managed a very elaborate one before the tide turned and the gentle waves began to eat away at the outer walls. Kain watched it erode and looked out over the bay.

"Too bad the hotel is set so far back from the beach." He sighed. Their room on the second floor did not have much of a view of the ocean. There were too many trees and a low hill behind the beach that blocked the view.

"It's because of the tsunami." Cass explained. "The hotels here were built back from the beaches because of the storm surges in monsoon season, but they added the earthworks after the tsunami in two thousand and four. The concierge was telling me that the wave came right up and around the hotel, burst all the doors and windows on the first floor and drowned anyone hiding there. That's why the first floor is all open concept now with no guest rooms. The wall around the bay is supposed to stop anything under three metres high."

"But there are holes in it." Kain pointed out. "We walked through one to get here."

"They are there to relieve the pressure so the wall doesn't collapse somewhere more important, like right in front of the hotel or the fishing village over there." She pointed. "The water goes through but spreads out so by the time it gets to the hotel it has lost a lot of its height and most of its force. Then because the first floor is all open it just washes through." She stuck her paw in the sand with her digits spread to demonstrate. A wavelet washed around them but continued undisturbed. "The main current will be in line with the gaps, and anything built in front of them could still be washed away."

"Even at a distance?" He asked, interested.

"Sure. Water is the most powerful natural force in the world. I studied the physics of it for a contract last year. I filled the apartment three floors above my targets bedroom with water then blew the floor out from under it. The weight carried it down through the other floors, crushed the target in his bed and killed the guards in the apartments above and below him. I had to redirect it two floors further down so it wouldn't crush an innocent family of red pandas, and that was the hardest part. Once water gets moving it is damned hard to stop or control. And it doesn't take much water to do damage. Ground water can move a house off its foundations, crack walls and erode almost anything over time." She lifted a paw full of seawater and let it dribble on the turret of their castle. Each drop that hit changed the shape a bit, either washing sand away or dimpling the surface.

"Even though the tides here are only a foot high and take twelve hours to turn all traces of this castle will be gone tomorrow morning." She said a little sadly. Then she looked up at Kain, smiled and pounced on him, driving him into the dry sand above the high tide line. "But tomorrow we can come back and build another one."

Kain took a moment to appreciate the view. Cass was sitting on his abdomen with her paws on his shoulders. She was wearing a celery-green bikini and her breasts, firm as they were, hung down so he could see her lower half between them. The top was held together by a brass clasp shaped like a pair of paws. The bottom was kept on by a knot high on each hip. It looked good on her.

Most anything looked good on her actually. Years of training had given her a magnificent physique and a way of moving that was sensual in its ease. Her fur, shades of grey ranging from almost white on her belly to angry black cloud patterns on her back and buttocks, was short and sleek. Her muscles stood out though it whenever she flexed even a bit. It was thicker on her tail, that long, puffy, semi-independent appendage that was currently tickling the pads on one of his feet.

Kain was a good match for her. The physiotherapy after he was almost killed in an explosion meant for Silver had honed his body until there was almost no fat on it. His wispy white arctic fox fur did nothing to conceal the well defined muscles on his chest, shoulders and arms, or the corrugated abdomen. When the two of them went to the beach or the pool, she in her green bikini and he in his bright red trunks, every other guest stared in admiration, jealousy or lust.

"Let's go back up to the room." She suggested.

The sun had dried their fur and the sand clinging to it, most of which fell off as they walked paw in paw back to the hotel. There was always a bit of sand that stayed down in the fur however, and each room at the luxury resort had a shower in the foyer to rinse it off. Since they were already dry and not too sandy Kain and Cass opted to stand in the ceramic enclosure with the water off and comb each other with their claws.

Kain was checking for spots he might have missed, his paws moving slowly down her flanks, when he felt her eyes on him. He looked up and into her icy purple orbs. She had a coy smile on her face. Her paws were moving slower now too, the claws retracted. One lingered on his chest, circling his nipple. Kain's paws came up automatically and squeezed her breasts together.

He let his paws come around her breasts until he could feel her nipples, already erect, through the material. He moved them closer together still, to the brass paws that held the cups together. He stopped, his digits resting on the clasp.

"Why do mermaids wear sea-shells?" He asked her. She bit her lip and shook her head to indicate that she did not know. "Because 'B' shells are too small and 'D' shells are too big."

Her tail came over her shoulder and slapped him in the side of the face, but she was laughing, and that was good to see. Neither of them laughed much when they were apart. Half of their time together was spent telling bad jokes and the other half was spent locked together passionately.

He twisted the clasp and released her breasts. He used the soft leather of his pads to massage them as her laughter died to a sigh of contentment. She settled closer against him and wrapped her long tail around his neck. Kain bent to take first one teat then the other in his lips. He kissed them gently, sucked them in and tickled the nipples with the tip of his tongue.

Her paws dropped to his hips. His trunks had a high waist and a slit in the back for his tail. It was held closed with Velcro and he heard as well as felt the material separate when she pulled it apart. The trunks were loose enough now to fall to the floor, and with a little urging from her, down they went. She gripped his buttocks and pulled his hips into hers, grinding her groin against him.

Kain kept planting little kisses on her neck and breasts as he groped for the knots on her hips. He found a loose end on each and pulled them simultaneously. They came undone with only slight resistance, now the only thing holding it on was her tail. Kain gathered the material in his paw pulling it slowly between her legs. He drew it up and away along her tail, over her shoulder until he came to where it was still wrapped around his neck. He stopped there, letting the green cloth rest on his shoulder.

Cass had pulled her hips back as the bikini bottom came off and inserted a paw between them. It was turned to his groin, caressing his cock and balls. He felt them twitch, as did she, and grow in her paw. She stoked it as it inflated, forcing its way up between them. Kain nipped her on the neck down where it joined the shoulder, and slipped a paw behind her and between her thighs. He twisted it and reached up with one digit to caress her mons. It was hot with fresh blood and already damp.

Kain picked Cass up easily and carried her into the room. The last time they had done this it had been her carrying him. That had been only four hours ago. Her tail shook off the scrap of bikini. Kain lay her down gently on the king-sized bad. He kept his rimless glasses on, half the fun was seeing her flesh react to his caresses.

Before he could join her she pulled him against the edge by the prick and sat up on one elbow. She guided his partially erect cock to her mouth spread her moist lips around it. She drew it in, sucked the air away from around it and ran her tongue along the shaft. As it grew longer and harder she took more and more of it in, until the tip bumped against the back of her throat. Warm saliva helped keep it slick and her lips glided over it, lightly as they reached for the base, squeezing hard when they pulled away.

Kain rubbed her thighs and forced his paw up to where they forked. She lifted one leg and held it in midair to expose herself to him. He put a pw to her vagina and stroked to until his middle digit slipped inside. She was more than damp now, her twat was wet, warm and alive. It sucked greedily at his digit as it struck the sensitive pad of flesh inside. He felt her clit harden against his pad.

She moaned as her head continued to bob at his groin. He knew that if she kept it up he would come very soon, too soon. He took a short step back, pulling himself out a little reluctantly. She tried to follow but could only stretch so far. She was left leaning off the edge of the bed with her mouth half open, groping for him. Kain pushed her back and swung her around until she was on her back with her butt resting on the edge of the mattress. He needed to cool down a bit but that didn't mean that they had to stop. He dropped to his knees between her raised legs and lowered his head.

Her legs were up, bent and pulled back to spread her vagina. The inner lips were fluttering outside and he could see her clit peeking out of its folds at him. He stuck his tongue out and gave it a tentative lick. She grabbed his ears and jammed his head down hard on her, sealing his mouth with her twat. A subtle hint, no doubt. He responded by lapping vigorously.

Her tail wound around his neck again and seemed to be pulling him closer. He had to suck air through his snout to breathe, so firmly planted on her was he already. He worked his lips and tongue furiously, teasing her clit, lapping up her juices, wiggling his tongue inside her. He reached up with one paw to tweak a nipple and she pulled it to her mouth and sucked on his digits. He traced the muscles of her butt with the tip of a claw on the other paw, drawing a slow line from her thigh to her vagina to her tailhole, and around it. She shuddered at the contact but she did not press her tailhole against it, so he was not going there this afternoon. But he circled it teasingly as her fluids flowed and dripped down to soak her anus and the base of her tail.

Kain realized that he was leaking too. Pre-cum was dripping down his shaft, leaving chilly trails in the air-conditioned room. He pulled his head from her and surveyed his work. Her head was back and she was gasping at the ceiling. Her breasts were heaving and every muscle of her abdomen was clenched in an effort to hold off her climax. Her vagina was open and inviting, waiting to enfold him. His cock twitched in anticipation, ready to be taken.

Kain stood up and shuffled forward. He bent one leg and brought the other up onto the bed, over her own. He guided the tip of his cock to the humid hole that awaited and inserted it just a bit. He flung his glasses across the room, so they would not get crushed in the melee that would follow. Putting a paw on each side of her, he lowered his hips. His right thigh, the one up on the bed, pressed her leg back, spreading her even more, while he took all of his weight on the left leg. Slowly his cock entered her, going deeper and deeper, until their pelvises were locked together and he could not advance anymore. Holding that position, he bent his arms and lowered his head to hers. Their mouths, full of each other's taste, locked together and their tongues entwined. Four hard nipples dug furrows in fur. Kain closed his eyes and began to move.

He moved like a gymnast, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. His hips rocked and his thighs flexed as his shaft pulled back and drove forth in an accelerating rhythm. Cass could not move much under him, nor did she need to, but she clenched her buttocks and squeezed his cock like she was trying to milk a python, and she called encouragement to him whenever their mouths slipped apart.

Kain could sense the pressure building down below. The feeling of her velvet tunnel sliding back and forth along his penis, the rippling sensation as she flexed her muscles inside and out. The way she managed to squeeze the tip with her cunt lips just before he plunged it in again. He clamped down, wanting to make it last, but each stoke brought him closer to the inevitable conclusion.

Cass could feel his need too. Her own release was close, but not close enough. She couldn't stop the wild gyrations of his hips or slow the pace to relieve him, but she could speed things up. She snaked a paw down her belly, along the line of her hip to the apex of her sex. As soon as he pulled back again she struck a digit down there, found the button of hard flesh that ached to be stroked too, and rubbed it hard.

Kain's head came up and the cords in his neck stood out as he strained to hold back. Cass cried out as she felt the head of cock rub against the responsive spot inside her. Kain drove down one last time, trapping her paw between them as he ground his pubic bone against her. He came so hard that she felt his balls pull up against his ass when he released. That, and the sudden flash of liquid heat inside her, brought her to her own conclusion, and she washed him in her own flood of molten fluid.

Rodin could have sculpted them then. Locked and frozen in ecstasy, every muscle standing out and straining. They stayed that way for minutes that seemed like hours, savouring a sensation that would be over all too soon. Then, slowly, they relaxed, settling into each other's arms as the tension left them. Kain remained inside her, filling her snugly, and she wrapped her legs around him to hold him there. She caressed his back as his weight came to rest on her, his arms cocked to keep from cutting off her breath. His head came down to rest beside hers, and his breathing evened out. They lay like that for a very long time.

* * * * * * * *

A soft 'bing' from his workstation brought Kain back to reality. Vikki's data had finished downloading. He realized that he had a raging hard on and pulled his chair closer to the console until it went away. He scanned the list of files she had copied from the project's server and opened a few out of curiosity. One file he opened had the technical details for the remotely operated control system. This was familiar territory for Kain; he had spent much of his youth trying the break into systems like this.

He had expected a complicated system, given the number of sites and the degree of coordination required, but this was much more intricate than that. There seemed to be twice as many control channels as required for one thing. Maybe it's a completely redundant system, he mused. The security seemed pretty good too, layered and cross checked with third party verification required to make any changes to the control settings. But no system was invulnerable.

Kain wondered how difficult it would be to break it. Vikki and Fett suspected the mob was behind the death of the RCMP officer, and they would have no interest in hacking it, but if some corrupt techie sold this file to someone they could use it to predict the cost of electricity. They could make a killing on the utilities market.

Kain glanced at the status boards and saw that it was likely to be a very slow night. He reassigned the routine research to an analyst who had a light load and cleared his own queue. Kain reached into the bag that he always carried around with him, except when he was with Cass, he remembered, and pulled a slim laptop from inside it. He had submitted the laptop to a dozen security scans and checks before they would allow him to hook it up to the FOX mainframe, but it was full of hacker tools that he had written himself, and he did not trust even the Academy's security to keep them out of more malicious paws.

He downloaded the control matrix to his laptop and established a connection to the project's server through their public relations page. As he set to work he started whistling a tune he had often overheard Silver whistling.

* * * * * * * *

Silver sat in his suite in the Academy housing set aside for senior staff. He kept a residence there for those times when he had to work around the clock planning or executing a mission. It was easier for him than traveling back and forth to Vikki's apartment. When he was there, rather than rest he felt obliged to lend a paw with Leslie, despite Vikki's insistence that she could handle the little bundle of energy by herself. It was easier on her too, since during those periods he kept odd hours and showing up in the middle of the night just threw the delicate balance of her routine off. He kept a basic set of clothes and toiletries in the suite. He stocked the kitchenette with frozen and preserved foods. He also kept his spare guns here.

It was dark outside now, and he had just turned on a single small bedside lamp in the bedroom. He was sitting at a vanity he had installed there for Vikki, for those nights she had spent here with him before Leslie had been born. It had three mirrors, all set at different angles, and a drawer for makeup. The drawer had been empty since Vikki had moved into her apartment with Leslie, but not tonight.

Silver was sitting naked in front of the vanity, an empty litre bottle of cheap white wine in front of him. The mirrors reflected his face, chest and abdomen from the front and both sides. Silver silently made an inventory of all the damage he had suffered and survived.

At last count he had six bullet holes, counting only the entrance wounds, and seven minor defensive knife wounds. There was the scar over his left eye, from a brawl in his army days. Someone had decided to use a heavy glass beer stein as an offensive weapon. There was the puckered burn scar on the back of his left paw, courtesy of a crazed saluki in a Finnish hunting lodge. That one still burned late at night in the dead of winter when the anniversary of Joel's birth came around.

Then there was the zigzag pattern of scars on his chest, with an empty pink patch where one nipple belonged. He had a matching set on his back; scars, not nipples. They hurt whenever he exercised too much or worked in his rock garden too long. Worse though, were the scars he could not see, and not because of a lack of mirrors. There were things that they could do to you that didn't show on the surface, but they still left scars; scars that burned all the same. He wondered what ever happened to the Chinese Colonel who had given him his most distinctive markings, and his deepest pain.

Silver saluted his scars with the empty bottle. All had been hard won, souvenirs of battles where the losers don't get to go home. Titanic struggles that had required all his skill, strength, and a bit of luck to survive. He had always been able to bounce back, mentally as well as physically, and get back on the job. But recovering from them had been harder than getting them, and it had taken longer each time.

Life was hard enough back in the cold war, when he was one of a dozen senior agents. Now as the only one he not only worked every important mission, he had to train others to ... to what? Replace him? Of course, why else had the Academy instituted this aggressive recruiting and training regime? They wanted to have a number of agents ready to step in when he went. How long had they expected him to last, he wondered? How long had he expected himself to last?

Dozens of scars. How many litres of blood lost over the years, how many grams of flesh? And yet what was happening now would leave no visible scaring. It was a simple malfunction. Just a few layers of renegade cells, refusing to do what they were supposed to anymore. That they had done it for fifty-two years, and done it better than the average fox, didn't matter now. His life, as he knew it, was over.

Silver sighed. I might as well get this over with, he thought. He stared deeply into his own blue-grey eyes. Gunfighter's eyes, according to western folklore. Eyes that stared back at him unblinkingly, giving him the same cold look that they had given dozens of others, just before he killed them. Locked in his own hypnotic gaze, Silver reached into the drawer of the vanity. He thought again about Colonel Sun, and how he had fooled the Chinese interrogator in the end. I'll bet he would love to be here watching this, the sadistic bastard. Light glinted off metal as he raised his arm.

I'm glad Vikki isn't here to see this, he thought as he brought his paw to his head.