Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 21:13:20 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Vengeance - Chapter 6 Message-ID: Chapter 6 Al exhaled the moment he was out of the Imaging Chamber. Sam was right; Al was tired. He hadn't slept since he had gotten that call from Captain Hoiles. Then came the call from Gushie and the interview with Harry Stark in the Waiting Room. After he and Ziggy, the project's parallel hybrid computer, had run those scenarios, Al's hopes for a quick and easy leap had gone out the window. Taking a deep breath, Al went to Ziggy's control console and placed the handlink on its surface. "What have you got, Ziggy?" he asked, knowing what her answer would be. "If you are asking if I have a new theory as to why Dr. Beckett has leaped into Henry Stark Jr., I have nothing." Al nodded. "Well, keep at it. There has to be some reason Sam is there." He thought a moment. "Ziggy, can you get the current address for Harry Stark and Dan Carroll?" There was a pause. "If you will recall, Admiral, both Mr. Carroll and Mr. Stark are serving ten year prison sentences at the New Mexico Penitentary for their involvement with the raid on the Project Quantum Leap complex in March," Ziggy reminded. Al sighed. Of course. He had forgotten, thanks to his slightly faulty long-term memory. Ever since he had "died" during the Burke incident, he tended to forget more recent events. However, he was working with Dr. Beeks and with his medical doctor wife to improve his memory skills. After a moment, Al nodded with resolution. "Ziggy," he said as he took what looked like a color-cube bracelet out of Ziggy's console. "I'm leaving the complex for a few hours. Inform me if there's any change with Sam." "Of course, Admiral," Ziggy replied as Al left the complex's control room and then entered the elevator that would take him out of the complex. "Stark, you have a visitor. Some big shot." Harry Stark, dressed in the simple blue clothes of a prison inmate, put down the last card in his hand and found that he had lost his latest game of Solitaire. He stood up and exhaled before following the guard's motion for him to go ahead towards the private visitor's room on the other side of the prison. His guard followed him closely, making sure Harry didn't do anything threatening. The guard need not have worried; all Harry wanted to do was serve his time and go back to his home town where he knew he would find a good job as a bartender. The two finally arrived at their destination: a large door and a single small barred window and a guard standing beside the door. The guard by the door opened the door for Harry, allowing the man to enter the room. Harry's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the person sitting at the table. He didn't say a word until the door to the room had been closed. "So, you're the big shot," Harry commented, not moving from his position. Al smiled. "That's right. What's the matter, Harry? Never expected to see me again?" Harry laughed slightly. "Frankly, no," he replied, sitting at the table. "Didn't expect a big shot admiral to remember someone like me." Al shrugged slightly. "Yeah. Well, I owe you a lot." Harry huffed. He could tell Al was just making small talk to fill up the time. "Get to the point, Admiral. Why are you here?" Al nodded. "You always were pretty blunt, weren't you?" He took a breath. "I need your help. I need some answers about what happened before the raid." Harry huffed again. "I already gave at the office, Admiral. So, if that's all you want..." "I don't want the technical stuff, Harry," Al interrupted. "I want the personal stuff: what happened to whom, et cetera." Harry laughed. "You want gossip." Al smiled slightly. "You could say that." "Why?" Harry asked. "To help a friend," Al replied. "Dr. Beckett?" Harry questioned. Al didn't answer. Harry nodded. He had hit the nail on the head. "So, who is he? Taylor? Stewart?" "You," Al said bluntly. "Me?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "Why me?" "That's what I want to find out," Al told him. Harry smiled mischievously. "So, my info is important to you." Al gave him a knowing smile. He knew what Harry was up to. "I don't know," he told him. "I haven't heard it yet." "I want a lower sentence," Harry demanded. Al lowered his eyelids. "You know I can't do that, Harry. It's out of my hands." Harry exhaled. "Well, then, Admiral, you're on your own." Al looked at Harry carefully. "If it weren't for me, you, Dan Carroll, and a lot of your pals would be serving twenty year sentences instead of ten. When you're released, you'll have a whole new life ahead of you, all because I put in a good word for you. I think that deserves consideration." Harry thought for a moment. "All right," he finally said. "For a box of cigars, then. The best, though." Al smiled. "Now THAT I can arrange." "What do you want to know?" Harry asked. Al leaned back in his chair. "Everything, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is. And, if you think of anything after I've left, I want you to let me know. It's part of the deal." He smiled. "Harry, give me all the gossip you've got." It was several hours before Al finally left the prison gates and headed towards the blue Chevy convertible he had decided to drive that day. He liked October days in New Mexico and wanted to enjoy the gradually cooling weather that October brought. He hadn't learned much from his talk with Harry, though Harry agreed to let him know if he remembered anything else. Most of what Harry told Al were incidences that might be found in any mercenary army. There had been a lot of speculation about the mission, a lot of sleazy stories bandied about, and even a little hanky panky between the male and female mercenaries under Burke's command. The one piece of gossip that Harry had emphasized was that Burke and Genine had a continuous affair. It only confirmed Al's suspicion that there was something more that a professional relationship between the two. He wasn't very fond of that idea. He took his keys from his trousers' pocket and held a small remote that was hooked into the key-chain. From a short distance to the car, he pressed a button, deactivating the car's security system. The moment he did, the convertible exploded into a blaze! Al dropped to the ground instinctively. After a moment, he raised himself slowly and looked at the burning pile that had once been his car. "Holy shit!" he muttered, thankful that, for once, he didn't follow his habit of deactivating the security system while standing beside the car. He took a careful step towards the car as two prison guards hurried towards him. "Admiral Calavicci, are you all right?" one asked with concern. Al nodded slowly, still looking at the burning wreck and marveling at how close he had come to death. "I'm fine," he assured the guard. He exhaled, blocking out the comments and calls for security the guards were making. *The car bomb was an obvious attempt on my life*, Al realized. *And whoever set it knows my habits pretty well.* "Admiral," a voice broke into his thoughts. Al turned his head towards the voice to find its owner was the warden of the prison. "We've already called the County Sheriff's office. They should be here soon," he told Al. "In the meantime, you can wait in my office, if you'd like." Al rubbed his face with his left hand and exhaled briefly. He hated answering questions from the police, especially when he had no answers. Nonetheless, he agreed to wait in the warden's office until the police arrived. He watched the scene from a distance with a furious glare. "Damn," he muttered, wanting to scream out a curse. "He's still alive." He exhaled. He would have to try later and less conspicuously, perhaps with a bullet through his intended victim's brain. He shook his head. No, that wouldn't be personal enough. He wanted his victim to know who his murderer was. Most of all, he wanted his victim to suffer a slow and painful death, like the one the car bomb would have given him. He slowly walked away from the scene. He was formulating a plan. He swore that, no matter what or who might get in his way, Admiral Albert Franklin Calavicci would die.