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At the top of the stairs, Beatriz stopped and closed her eyes once more.

*****

When she opened them, she again stood on the steps of the porch of James’ childhood.

James sat on the steps. There was a look of worry on his face that troubled her. “What is it?” she asked in concern?

“It’s you!’ The southerner stood up. “What are ya waiting fer, Betty? We gotta git in there.”

“Listen, Jimbo. Before we rush in all la mitad montó, you know half cocked, I want to know what we are up against.” Betty got a glimpse of her reflection in the window of the house. She put her hand up to her unscarred face. She sometimes forgot how she looked before the accident caused by James. She crossed her arms and asked, “And what gives you the right to call me Betty?”

James looked hurt for a moment. Then, he mumbled, “Whatever, Ms. Ortiz. We gotz to go.”

“You are unbelievable!” Betty slowed exhaled and tried to center herself, arguing with James was not going to help. Finally she said, “Fine! Do you have any idea how many soldiers there are?”

James thought for a moment before speaking, “Well, I reckon if they follow standard protocols then there shouldn’t be more then a few of them. No more than four or five. We was taught to do that for plausible deniability.”

Betty gave him a curious look. “Plausible deniability?”

James smiled smugly, “Yeah, I know that’s a big word that means the O.W.L.s won’t get dinged if anyone gits nabbed. Better to think some whacko is working alone”

“I know what it is, idiota.” Betty said annoyed, “I just don’t see how effective it would be. I mean, these men trained with the O.W.L.s. A simple Google search would link them to the group.”

James smiled, “Well aren’t you little Miss Nancy Drew!”

Betty smiled and added, “I do agree with the ‘whacko” part.” Although she knew it was immature, Betty stuck her tongue out at James.

James blushed. “Verra funny! But, back to the point. I’ll bet the four in the elevator is all a them. They don’t call in reinforcements unless they know there’ll trouble. And they don’t even know we’re a coming!”

“Fair enough. Now, who is the guy with the crew cut?” Betty remembered James’ reaction in the elevator and frowned. “Is he the leader?”

James moved down the steps and approached Betty. “His name is Harrison Pierce, I met em at the O.W.L. Training camp before my, uh, assignment. Harry’s a good kid, I’ll bet he don’t even know what them O.W.L.s are really about.”

Betty remembered James’ shock at the discovery that Lee Sherman had planned to use an O.W.L. strike force to blow up the children’s ward in the hospital. It was then that James decided to switch sides and help Betty stop the O.W.L.s from finishing their missing and killing the children. “I don’t think your camp buddy is as altruistic as you say, el jefe. We have to take him down muy rapido, as quick as possible.”

“Promise me you’ll at least try and talk to him first.” It was a strange request and Betty nodded before she realized she was doing it. Satisfied, James continued, “If they follow them protocols that I learned, they should be lining up the workers on the opposite side of the exit, but away from the winders—in case they need hostages. You should probably give a quick look-see, all sneaky-like. Now git, girl and see what you can see.”

*****

Betty concentrated and she was in the stairwell again dressed in her electric blue spandex. Psi-Kotic pushed the door open and peered out into the emergency ward.

James was correct; the O.W.L. soldiers had corralled the hospital staff into the far corner of the ward. Betty saw that Harry was holding a handgun. The young mercenary aimed the weapon at Doctor Gier, who sat on the floor of a cubicle. The doctor looked up at the gunman with a mix of contempt and annoyance. On the far side of the counter, Dr. Katinsky kneeled next to Aggie. The older woman still held her knitting. Psi-Kotic also noticed a rather odd and anxious looking man in an expensive business suit.

“How are we going to get over there?” She whispered out loud to James.

In her head James mumbled, “Don’t look at me, can’t you just shimmy across the drainpipe or something. You touched all them Chinese folk.”

James referred to Betty’s unique ability to “learn” talents and information from anyone she touches. Months ago, the Chinese Opera School, where great martial artists like Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung trained, came to perform on a benefit at the hospital. Betty made sure to shake each and every one of the acrobat’s hands. She had spent the past two months on the roof, practicing the skills she had absorbed and training with practice dummies in an effort to master her new-found abilities.

Psi-Kotic nodded her costumed head from side to side, “No, I think they would see me before I got halfway across. Plus, they are way to heavily armed for that.”

Betty looked up at the pipes that ran across the ceiling and led to the large picture window over looking the parking lot. “I think I have a plan.” She whispered with a smile.

“I thought you might at that.” James responded in her head. Although Betty could not see the southerner, she was sure he was smirking.

“ We have to get to the roof.” She replied with a smirk.

A few feet away, one of the soldiers frantically typed on a computer keyboard while Harry leaned over his fellow soldier and peered into the computer screen. “C’mon Polk, We’re on a schedule. Have you found Alan yet?”

Polk turned around to address his commanding officer, “No sir. The records have not been updated.”

Harry checked his Rolex watch, “We really don’t have time for this.” He glanced over at the hostages gathered in the center of the room and smiled. “It’s time to get creative.”

Polk appeared confused. “Sir, what is the plan?”

Harry removed his sidearm and walked towards the prisoners. “We’ll just have to persuade one of these nice people to help us.”

Katinsky and Aggie looked up at the approaching terrorist with concern. Doris did not look, but merely continued to stare at the floor as she sobbed. Dr. Gier appeared unconcerned.

Harry leaned into Katinsky’s face. “Excuse me, Doctor. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to our friend, Alan. We can’t seem to find him in the hospital’s registration system.”

Katinsky stared directly into the soldier’s eyes. “Alan? Who is Alan? I’m sorry. Is he a patient here?”

In response, Harry knocked Katinsky to the ground with his foot. “So, that’s how you want to play it.” The O.W.L. stormed over to Doris and grabbed the woman’s head. Harry pulled the elderly nurse up by her hair. When she reached her feet, Harry aimed his weapon at her neck. “If you do not bring me to Alan, I am going to shoot this nurse.”

Katinsky and Aggie exchanged worried glances. Finally, Katinsky cleared his throat. “Alan is . . .”

Then, Gier sighed loudly, interrupting Katinsky. “I’m afraid you have a problem then, soldier.” Harry turned towards Gier. The older doctor continued to lean against the nurse’s station with his head back and eyes closed. “You see, the police came and took him an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” Harry said as he pressed the barrel of his gun against Doris’ neck. A small red welt began to appear where the weapon touched her bare flesh.

Gier opened his eyes, but did not turn to Harry, “I am his attending physician. The police took my patient down to charge him for . . . well, quite frankly, for quite a number of nasty things. He is most likely in lock up by now. If you hurry, you can still make it down to the police station in time for visiting hours.”

“Don’t play with me, man!” Harry pulled Doris’ hair tight and the older nurse yelped in surprise. “I swear to god, I’ll kill her.”

Gier turned to the soldier and yawned, “If you must. Go ahead. It isn’t going to change things.”

The soldier and the doctor stared at each other for a long moment.

Then a figure dressed in electric blue spandex broke through the window. Gier mumbled under his breath, “It’s about time.”

Harry turned and shot at the masked intruder. “Fire at will boys.” His bullet connected with the forehead of his attacker, the masked snapped back with the impact.

With trained precision, the four soldiers aimed their rifles towards the intruder and fired. Bullets ripped through the electric blue costume. The body flailed with each impact. A moment later, the limp costumed figure rolled to its stomach near the window and stopped.

“Carter, keep your gun on the doctor!” Harry yelled to the soldier nearest Katinsky. He then yelled to the soldier nearest by the elevator, “Harding, check the body out. But, keep your gun on her. We don’t want to take any chances, she’s playing possum.”

Harding aimed his rifle at the lifeless face-down figure as he approached the intruder. A small red targeting dot appeared on the back of the electric spandex covered blue skull. Harding extended his foot under the costumed shoulder and flipped the body over. He could immediately see they had been tricked. “It’s a training dummy!”

Before any of the soldiers could react, Psi-Kotic, dropped down from the pipes above and landed on Harding. The force of the impact winded the soldier and knocked the gun from his hands. The heroine followed through with a kick to the soldier’s head. At the same time, Psi-Kotic tossed a blunted practice throwing star towards Carter, the soldier that guarded Aggie and Katinsky. The star connected with Carter’s weapon and it flew from the hands of the dumbstruck soldier. The star bounced off the weapon, ricocheted off the wall and slammed into the soldiers back. The force of the blow knocked Carter to the ground and his rifle skidded across the linoleum floor. Continuing the momentum of her kick, the heroine somersaulted away from Harding. As she rotated in midair, Psi-Kotic removed the boa staff from its holster tied to her back and whipped it at Harry. The spinning staff slammed into the hand gun, bending the barrel and knocking Harry to the ground.

James screamed inside Betty’s head, “Kid, you missed one. Over at the nurse station!”

Psi-Kotic landed on all fours and stared up at Polk. The soldier was leaning over the desk with his rifle trained on her. Psi-Kotic could see the tiny red dot on the chest of her electric blue costume. The heroine knew there was no time to dodge and Betty braced herself for the bullet’s impact.

Suddenly, Dr. Gier reached up from his seated position in front of the nurse’s station. His restrained hands wrapped themselves around the barrel of the rifle. “I have had just about enough of this!” The Doctor pulled forward with all his strength causing Polk to flip over the desk. The surprised soldier landed in front of Gier. Before the soldier could move, or even think, Gier slammed his booted foot against the soldier and kicked him firmly in the head. Polk slumped to the ground. Gier examined the unconscious soldier, “Grandpa, indeed.”

Psi-Kotic exhaled. “Gracias.”

Gier nodded. “De nada.”

Then James yelled, “Look out!

The costume heroine barely dodged Harry’s attack as his butterfly knife slice through the leg of her costume. She spun around to face the O.W.L.

“Betty wait!” James yelled. “Let me talk to him. Ah reckon Ah can reason with him. Ya know, talk him down all calm-like.”

Psi-Kotic remembered Betty’s promise and sighed, “Whatever.”

Betty closed her eyes and James opened them. “Harry. Listen, kid. The O.W.L.S. ain’t what you think they is.”

“How do you know my name?” Harry stood uncertain as he held his knife. The soldier’s eyes darted around the room. Carter, the soldier near Aggie, was getting to his feet.

“Ah’m James. . . Ah mean Ah knew James Jefferson. He said you were a good kid.” The heroine spoke with a twang.

Harry began to laugh, “James Jefferson. You knew that sap?”

Psi-Kotic’s mouth dropped opened. “But, you were his friend. He trusted you.”

“That was the idea.” Harry smirked, “My job was to convince him of our righteousness. I did my job so well that the idiot strapped explosives to himself. How stupid can you be?”

“But, you said . . .” Psi-Kotic started.

“Anything that moron wanted to hear! I bet Lee Sherman a bottle of scotch that I could get the fool to off himself within a month ‘for the cause’.” Harry laughed as he imitated James’ voice, “Well Harry, ah reckon ah can kill mahself for a good reason if’n you think that’s okay. I swear, Forest Gump was brighter than that hick.”

“Oh James.” Betty spoke in James’ head, “I am so sorry.”

“Ah got nothing else to say to you, Harry.” James closed his eyes and Betty took over again. “You muenstro!” The heroine assumed a combat stance. “James may have been loco. But, you are pure evil.”

“Betty” James croaked, “You really need to kick this guy’s ass!”

Psi-Kotic made a fist, “”Gladly!”

Harry lunged at the heroine. Psi-Kotic barely dodged as the blade cut the shoulder of her costume.

The O.W.L. soldier spun around and sliced again. This time, the knife sliced the electric blue fabric and into her skin. “I wonder, girlie, did James tell you that I’m a seventh degree black belt in Awud Mied, Tai knife fighting.”

Psi-Kotic ducked down under the knife.

On the other side of the room, Aggie watched as Carter rose to his feet. The soldier lunged for his weapon. Before Carter could move, Katinsky tackled the O.W.L.’s legs and the soldier fell to the ground directly in front of Aggie. The nurse raised her knitting project high above her head and slammed it down on the soldier. The fabric connected with a metallic clang and the soldier slumped unconscious to the floor.

Katinsky looked up. “What exactly are you knitting?”

Aggie turned the knitting upside down and a large metal pipe slid from the fabric. “A holster for my metal billy club; a girl can’t be too careful, Doctor.” Aggie bent over and removed the butterfly knife from the sheath on the soldier’s leg and moved to cut off Katinsky’s restraints.

*****

Meanwhile, a 1977 Lemans chased a 1977 black Pontiac Trans Am down Interstate 95. The roof of the squad car had been torn off and the driver’s side door was missing. Lucas sat in the passenger’s seat holding tightly on to his tan deputy hat as the Director, disguised in a padded Portague County sheriff’s uniform, sped through the countryside.

“ You sumbidsh. You’re going away ‘till you’re gray. I got the evidence in the car!” the Director yelled in a Texan twang, his fake mustache flapped in the breeze revealing the spirit gum underneath.

Lucas looked at the broken driver’s side door that sat in the back seat and sighed. He was at least thankful that the Director’s movie choice for reenactment for this little cross-country trip had allowed him to wear pants. He could just as easily have been required to dress in red hot pants and a halter top to play frog in the Trans Am. Lucas shuddered at the memory of his role in last year’s armored car robbery dubbed “Project Thelma and Louise” and the box office theft subtitled, “Project League of their Own.” The thought of these heists made Lucas wonder what the Director had planned for what was still being referred to as “Untitled Super Heroine Project.” Whatever it was, he hoped he could wear pants.

The loud musical ring of his cell phone brought Lucas back to reality. Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out the device playing, “Hooray for Hollywood.”

The Director slammed on the car’s break pedal. The 1977 Lemans screeched to a halt, skidding sideways across the road. Lucas dropped his cell as he was thrown against his seatbelt. Looking straight ahead, the villain announced, “it takes a lot of phone calls to make a movie.” The Director turned to look at Lucas with a furious glare. “You know, it only takes one phone call to ruin it?”

Lucas gave a friendly smile as he reached for the cell, which had tumbled to the floorboard with the force of the sudden stop. “Sorry, sir.” He pressed the connect button.

The voice of the Agent chimed in Lucas’ ear, “Bubby! How’s my favorite client.”

Cell phone static crackled through the line. Lucas raised his voice to compensate. “Hello Agent, I am here with the Director. What is your position?”

The Agent sounded troubled, but still spoke with a used car salesman’s tone, “My friend, . . .schhht . . . I am located dead center in that . . scchhtsch . . . precipitous location between the . . . shcccchht. . . and the fan.”

Lucas understood the Agent’s message despite of the static. The production assistant turned to the Director with a concerned look as he pressed a red button on the cellular phone. “Hold on, Agent. I’m putting you on speaker.”

The man in the sheriff’s uniform spoke. When he did, all traces of an accent were gone. Instead, the villain spoke practiced sophistication. “You are now in the presence of the Director. It is I, the one who is often imitated, but never nominated.”

Lucas mouthed the words to the catch phrase as the Director said them.

The now-tinny voice of the Agent echoed through the windy car. “Director, babee. How is my favorite client?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Oh, it is only you?” The Director scowled, “Have you acquired the talent? We are on a tight schedule.”

“Bubula! There’s been a small complication. It appears that someone has stolen your idea for a Superheroine movie. Not only that, but their production schedule is way ahead of yours. I’m watching the third act battle royale right now.” The Agent tried to sound reassuring.

The Director paused for a moment before sighing loudly, “Well, it’s not like we had an exclusive. What is the talent’s role in this?”

The Agent spoke through the static. “I’m afraid the new script has reduced Alan from being your star to merely a bit player—a mere McGuffin. I think our star heroine is trying to save his life.” The speaker emitted the sound of a large crash through the phone.

“I must see,” the Director said annoyed, “Show me!”

As if anticipated, the Agent proudly stated, “I have already texted a picture from my phone, Bubby!”

The phone beeped a second later. Lucas and the Director leaned over the device to stare at a grainy photo of Psi-Kotic and a uniformed O.W.L. Soldier. The heroine was ducking under a knife thrust, while high kicking the soldier in the head. Bright red blood splattered from the soldier’s jaw with the impact.

After a long silence, the Director cursed, “Tarentino!”

Lucas rolled his eyes and took the phone. “Agent, can you get to Alan, uh, the talent?”

“I guess so.” The Agent thought for a moment before adding, “I assume that I can, but my fee will double.”

Lucas knew that the Agent’s rate was to receive 20 percent of the ill gotten gains stolen by his clients. He performed a quick calculation in his head, before saying, “done! Just acquire him quickly. Use the Nakatomi Protocols, if you get in trouble. “

Lucas hung up the phone and turned to look at the Director. The villain gave him a strange look, “I think you forget your place, Production Assistant Lucas.”

Lucas threw his hands up in explanation, “Wait. Hear me out. This fight will get media attention. So, if she lives through this, we can utilize Alan and together they will be the perfect diversion for our crimes.”

The Director’s head dropped in sadness. “Diversion?”

Lucas quickly corrected himself by saying, “Did I say ‘diversion’? I meant that together they will be able to allow you to create the perfect film masterpiece.”

A minute passed. The whipping wind and low thrum of the engine were the only sounds in the car. Finally, the Director spoke, “Brilliant! A reboot without being a remake. Lucas, you are well on your way to getting an assistant producer credit.” The villain messed up his assistant’s brown hair. Lucas beamed at the attention.

The Director closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. When he opened his eyes, all traces of the Director were gone. The Sheriff spoke to Lucas with a heavy Texas drawl, “But, right now we gat a gotschedam summanabidcth Bandit to catch. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY makes Sheriff Buford T. Justice look like a possum’s pecker.”

Lucas smiled as he put on his deputy’s hat and responded, in a dimwitted monotone, “Let’s go git em Daddy!”

*****

Many miles away, a large super computer whirred to life. The machine sat in the center of a cavernous warehouse. The huge room was more than large enough to accommodate the car, helicopter, plane and several motorcycles, which were all parked in the corner of the warehouse. After a moment, a red light blinked on the console of the machine and a small scrap of paper exited the paper port of the machine and fell into a basket near the machine. The machine began to issue a continuous loud beeping sound that echoed throughout the warehouse.

In the other corner of the room, a preteen boy, dressed only in black spandex pants, heard the beeping noise as he worked out on exercise rings. He glanced at the computer and smiled. “I’m coming. Hold your horses.” A moment later, the shirtless boy’s muscles glistened as he performed a triple flip dismount from the rings and landed on the balance beam. The gymnast’s bare feet padded across the beam until he reached the end of it. Then he flipped off the beam and landed softly on the floor. The boy gave a smug smile and laughed, “And the results are in. 10 - - 10 -- 10 – and a 9.5 from the Russian judge.” Quite satisfied, he ran across the cement floor through the shooting range, across the sparring ring and to the super computer. The young athlete snatched the paper from the basket next to the machine and looked at it.

Large block lettering read:

Satellite 75 Report.
Sender: Agent (99.9998 certainty)
Recipient: Director(98.689 certainty)
Sender location: Salveeza
Recipient location: unknown

“OMG!” The boy exclaimed, “I’ve got to get this to Hawk.”

*****

Psi-Kotic sidestepped another slash from Harry’s knife. This one grazed her back. Blood soaked through her costume in several places. “You know. I recently met a very nice man name Robert Kraus. He lives in the Sunrise Home. Robert served in both World Wars. But, he doesn’t like to talk about it.” The heroine barely blocked another killing strike. Winded, she continued, “But, ask him about his grandchildren and the man will hold your hand and talk for hours.”

“What are you babbling about?” Harry paused his attack and stared at Psi-Kotic. “Who the hell is Robert Kraus?”

Katinsky threw Carter’s knife towards the costumed heroine, “Be . . uhm, Psi-Kotic catch.”

The weapon flipped through the air until it landed in Psi-Kotic’s open hand. The heroine caught the knife behind her back. Using the momentum of the throw she flipped the knife in and out with expert precision as she moved her arm in front of her. “Robert Kraus is a tenth degree black belt in the art of Awud Mied. And now, so am I.”

Harry lunged again. This time, the heroine trapped Harry’s blade in the handle of her knife. With a twist, she ripped it from the soldier’s hand. The blade popped into the air before Psi-Kotic caught it. Then, with a blade in each hand she dexterously juggled the blades in and out of their handles like a rhythmic gymnast.

Psi-Kotic closed Harry’s knife and tossed it back to him. “Care to try again, pequito.”

Harry screamed as he rushed towards the costumed woman. Psi-Kotic flipped back, her foot connected with Harry’s wrist, knocking the O.W.L.’s knife from his hand and into the ceiling where it stuck in the tiles. The heroine landed, and then punched the soldier in the nose with the back end handle of the blade in her hand.

“My dose, you brode my dose, you bidsh!” The O.W.L. screeched as he wildly swung at the heroine.

Psi-Kotic grabbed Harry’s arm and used the force of the punch to trap the O.W.L. in a sleeper hold headlock. She whispered into his ear, “Lights out muenstro! This is for James.” Harry’s eyes rolled back and the soldier slumped to the ground until he lay on top of the heroine’s electric blue boots. Psi-Kotic kicked Harry off of her and exclaimed, “Basura!”

The unconscious O.W.L. rolled in front of Dr. Gier, who was removing his handcuffs. “Trash, indeed.” The doctor bent over and removed a radio from Harry’s belt. “We better check on Patient Alan and see why everyone is so interested in him.”

Psi-Kotic followed the older doctor into Alan’s hospital room. But, the room was empty. Several sheets had been torn and used as a makeshift ladder. Justin, one of the hospital orderlies lay on the floor. Gier leaned down and examined the body, “He’s alive, barely.” Then, Gier noticed that Justin’s T-shirt was rolled up and had red lettering on it. Gier unfurled the shirt and read it out loud, “Now I have a machine gun too. Ho Ho Ho.”

Just then, the radio in Gier’s hand squawked. The doctor held up the device and turned to the heroine. “Should we answer?”

James spoke in Betty’s head, “Quick now, girl, git that radio.”

“Give it here, Doctor.” The heroine asked with outstretched hands. Gier complied.

James spoke slowly, “Okay, let’s hope that ain’t changed the code. Press 08-27-2000 on the phone.” Psi-Kotic did as she was told.

The radio lit up and the display read “code accepted.”

An erratic voice spoke “hello, is anyone there. I have a very important message. Yes sirree, it is a VIM. I have often pondered whether VIM is really a word. If it isn’t, then, by George, it should be. I mean, if there is a VIP, why not a VIM. Yes, I have a VIM!”

“Lonnie Auchters.” Gier said the word like a curse.

Auchters continued, “Yes, a VIM—a very important message. Now, what was that code. Oh yes, ‘the swooping eagle force in nests.’ or was it ‘the forceful eagles nest in swoops.’ No that’s not it. Wait, ‘the nesting eagles swoop in force.’ Yes, ‘the nesting eagles swoop in force.’”

James spoke in Betty’s head, “Ah reckon we ahr gonna have ourselves a lot of company real soon, girlie.”

Outside, nearly forty heavily armed soldiers approached the hospital.

To Be Continued . . .