Date: Mon, 29 Jun 1998 19:29:13 GMT From: Robyn Harris Organization: Wesleyan College Subject: Re: INT:GP (aka Goldman Pictures): Tell them Trotsky doesn't live here J. Hall,jhall@lemoorenet.com,Internet writes: > The dark man in the clean shirt was limping up the dock behind Bruno >slowly, his head on a swivel, watchful. I'd only met Pavel Abramovich >Tlachssky once, in Magdeburg, and it hadn't been a happy occasion. He'd >worn a kind of different uniform then, dark blue one with red stripes, and >had been aiming a captured German officer's Luger at my forehead. I hoped >time had leavened his zeal to the Party. > Reinie stuck her head out of the bathroom and made a face. I held up a >tie and she shook her head. > "Wear the dark navy one, with the little red stripes," she ordered. > Of course. > The knock came again, this time firmer. Lareine opened the door, Huston stood there, looking grim. "I think you need to come down stairs." "I assumed as much." Lareine followed Huston down the stairs with Jeff trailing behind fixing his tie. They reached the bottom just as Bruno and the limping guy walked in the door. Bruno looked at Lareine and Jeff and reached into his jacket. Jeff instinctively knocked Lareine to the floor. She cried out. But there was no shot, just a yawning silence. Bruno lifted Jeff from the ground and tossed a badge at him. He then carefully aided Lareine to her feet. "No way," Jeff threw the badge back at him. Bruno nodded. "I'd been undercover for years, getting all I could from DeLauro's group. I was trying to get the evidence to bring him down but this one over here just handed us that on a platter." Lareine shrugged, silent. "You shot at me! We are on the same side!" "In a manner of speaking, yes. But I am a crack shot. And I always missed you." Huston glanced at the FBI badge. "Can I get you anything?" "No, Sir. WE just need to take Ms. DeLauro into protective custody. We have a special program for you, Reine." "Does that program have anything to do with Jail? Because I never did anything illegal." Jeff kept his mouth shut. "Don't push it, Reine. You want to live, you come with me. Your Uncle wants revenge on whoever it was that turned him in. He's got a friend on the case." "That's where I come in," the man's accent was quiet heavy. "Pavel Abramovich Tlachssky. Our government is trying to apprehend the assassin hired by Mr. DeLauro. This assassin has killed many of our higher Politburo members. His will be a death sentence." "Working for the good guys, Pavel?" Jeff spat. "You I remember well. I should have finished you, but that is a story for another time." "Yes, it is. I don't want to go, Bruno--" Lareine looked at the badge and ID, "Jack. I am safe." "We found you," the big G-man said. "Fine, I'm going to the boat," Lareine stormed out. "You," The G-Man turned to Jeff. "You better get lost, man. Get as far away from this hemisphere as possible. I hear Cairo's nice this time of year." "I'm sure it is." "No hard feelings. Sorry about those shots." Jeff looked at Huston, "Mind a visitor for a few more days?" "You have a week." "Thank you. And you," he turned to Bruno, "If anything happens to her..." The agent smiled and shook his head. "Take care. It'll blow over soon." He walked out of the house. Jeff heard the unmistakable sound of a plane flying overhead. The agent cursed. Jeff ran outside to see Lexie and Reine flying low over the house, waving. "Where to?" "I don't know, Lex. Away. We need to lay low." "How about Sweden?" "I've always wanted to visit Paris." "Paris it is. I hope Mr. Huston doesn't mind us buying his plane." "I left him enough to buy five more." The plane ascended and turned north. to be continued.... Robyn Alyson the difference between fantasy and reality is perception