(Thanks to Shawhollow for editing my blather and Talenwolf for story creation - he doesn't get enough credit for all the stories we have worked on together)

*Doing evil for a good reason is still evil -- so don't let it be all you do*

(Late that night)

"We have a problem," Winnie touched me. I opened my eyes and started looking around. Aya Yen was about a fifteen inches away from the foot of the bed. She wasn't moving and I figured out why as I saw her eyes flit to either side of me. Jen was up, breasts bare, pointing an MP-5 with a sound suppressor at Aya. Winnie was reclining with a small pistol that was most likely a .38 or 9mm with a silencer.

I sat up and Winifred followed suit. My hand went up, requesting silence, before I pivoted to Winnie, tapped my ear then made a circling motion to indicate a sound search of the perimeter. Winnie nodded once then slipped out of bed, heading off to get our 'sonic gun' and looked with IR goggles to see if our host had set up another listening post.

Aya stood still as Winifred did her rounds.

"We are clear," Winnie informed us when she was done. I soon heard the padding of two sets of feet coming my way --Echo and Lydia. Aya seemed a bit perplexed.

"I would like to talk with you alone," she finally requested.

"Oh hell no," Echo announced, "That is not happening."

"I guess I came for no reason then," Aya nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait, do you want to know if I know who she was or how I found out in case others try to pick up the same trail?" I countered. Again, she was conflicted.

"Never mind," she growled.

"Ladies, I need a few moments with my client," I requested of my ladies who allowed me this madness grudgingly.

"Isn't this the moment you tell me that there are numerous copies of what you have done to ferret out my weakness and in case of...blah, blah, blah," Ms. Yen mocked me

"Nope," I stared at her, "the only knowledge trail I haven't annihilated is in my brain and it's not going anywhere willingly."

"If you are tortured?" Aya met my gaze.

"I'll wail like a baby," I responded instantly.

"I have no illusions I would hang out for long. I'd spill my guts after they ripped off the first fingernail because no one will be coming to rescue me and they might just shoot me once they have what they came for."

"You are annoyingly honest," she informed me.

"You aren't paying me to sugar-coat my results," I laid it out for her.

"How did you find her?" Aya came to the side of the bed, sat down and moved until our faces were only inches apart.

"Your dating is 30% below normal in Kuala Lumpur," I began. "I tracked your personal movement into a one block radius once I saw that pattern.

I checked out all the buildings in that area but you had shielded the money trail so I tracked down all consumer complaints to the building manager for the past three years and located all the apartments that didn't have any -- only one," I told her calmly.

"You didn't want people to discover who she was so you used specific contractors who kept to a limited schedule.

I went to Interpol and searched their records for someone at that address and with work hours that matched food deliveries. They weren't work hours; they were a school schedule," I was concluding. "She is the daughter of your patron inside the Triads. She is personally close to you or you would be hiding her away inside a wall of security like a Triad member -- you are hiding her activities from the man who is your patron. The most probable supposition is that the relationship is of two secret lovers."

"So you can kill me whenever you want," she numbly muttered.

"You don't matter but she deserves better than being murdered because she's an embarrassment to some other fuck-nut I don't know or care about," I related.

"Why are you telling me that you know about her then?" Aya strained to understand.

"One, I had no idea what my investigation would dig up when I started out and two, you don't get to inquire into my motivations," I responded.

"Whatever else happens, if something happens to -- her," Aya locked in my gaze. "I will have enough left to make you pay."

"You work on a daily basis with drug smugglers, slavers, murderers, thugs and thieves and you are worried about me?" I chuckled. "Get over yourself. I'm a glorified bean counter; taking you down doesn't do me any good; I don't hate you that much and I don't want your job. My main focus is to survive long enough to develop my exit strategy."

"Do we have to be enemies?" she gives off a subtle sexual undertone.

"I don't much like myself and I haven't broken any laws yet but the moment some person overdoses from some drugs I've helped sneak in, or someone dies in a container ship crossing the Pacific, I'll hopefully still hate myself for that. You have already passed that point and since you are sitting in my room capable of smiling, you are a threat."

She stood up and looked at me with deep suspicion.

"What are you doing here if you think that little of us?" Ms. Yen demanded.

"I repeat; you don't get to ask that question," I replied dryly.

"We aren't getting off to a good start," she noted.

"I am hardly heartbroken by that news and I'm growing tired of our conversation," I explained. "If you want to talk again; how about we try something in the daylight with advance warning?"

"I'll take that under advisement, Mr. Umstead," she frowned before turning away and heading off to the balcony next to the bed I had started the night in.

Jen intercepted Aya but no words were exchanged; she merely waited for Aya to slip out of sight before joining everyone else. The other three women closed in on me.

"You have to stop tossing yourself out there," Echo chastised me. "People like Ms. Yen have no real empathy; she would gut you and laugh about it over your corpse."

"Right until we ventilated her," Lydia pointed out.

"What did you two talk about?" Winnie inquired.

"Not something I would feel safe telling any of you," I replied, "and trust me when I say that; I don't know what you will put into your report and until I know I can trust any of you, I'm going to keep some things compartmentalized."

There was a pregnant pause until Jen showed up and then,

"That's not how things work, Dominic," Winifred said authoritatively.

"Oh," Jen sighed, "He's holding the conversation for his use alone?"

"Yes," Winnie answered. "I was trying to get him to..."

"What are you going to do; tell his boss, his Mother or beat him up?" Echo gave Winnie a steady stare-down. "He volunteered to help the rest of us out and he will leave when he wants."

"So Ms. Portsmouth," Lydia remarked, "how are you going to make him give up what happened?"

"I thought you were going to be cooperative," Winnie refocused on me.

"I am doing more than that Winnie," I met her look. "I barely know you but you've come through in a very competent manner. I don't know who you report to so until I trust them, I only relay information that is key to your immediate survival or something I think will help you at work. This has ceased to be a matter of discussion -- it is how it is. What your bosses don't know they can't fuck us with."

"I could go on about security clearances but I now imagine this is what they meant by you being 'eccentric' and 'paranoid about security'," Winnie nodded. "Your sexual escapades on the plane followed by stunt at the airport should have prepared me for this."

"This is why I'm not using his name when things get kicked upstairs," Jensen added. "He's a total prick but we have an unprecedented opportunity to put hundreds, if not thousands of bad guys away."

"Now you are making it sound like we work for him -- on his team, despite all of us having years of experience over him," Winnie pointed out.

"Wrong," Echo sounded decisive, "any criminal organization requires manpower, money and resources. Current law enforcement efforts have centered on manpower and that isn't working."

"With our little pal here," Lydia put an arm around my waist, "we have the opportunity to take a bite out of all three. We'll take away the money all these criminals make, we'll expose the suppliers and give us access to the key players in the networks."

"And all this was brought about by Dominic being a bit of a dick when he met Michael Harrow," Echo added.

"The moment Harrow came back at Dominic for round two, I realized that we were inside his ego and this was personal to that son of a bitch. I thought this crazy plan deserved a chance." she continued. "It is key to our plan that Dominic thinks the way he does and acts the way he's learned to over the years dealing with people who have consistently underestimated his genius."

"I'm not a genius," I corrected her. "I have an eidetic memory and am familiar with the principles of mathematics. I'd point that Winifred has impressive language skills, all of you far exceed my martial abilities plus all of you have vastly superior skills in criminology and criminal psychology. I would never attempt this without you, believe me."

"All this 'around the campfire' stuff is touching, we need an effective night's sleep if we are going to be up to playing our best game tomorrow -- Everyone to bed," Jen insisted. No one protested and we were soon back to our late night sleeping arrangements. As for my part, all I had to do was figure out why Michael wanted me here and to keep one step ahead.

(Monday Morning)

Our morning was interesting to say the least. I was convinced that running with even a sidearm would be cumbersome and throw off our pace. The girls were convinced that I could do better running inside an APC (Armored Personnel Carrier). We compromised. Jen carried a goodie bag with several 'non-lethal' grenades, an MP-5, two spare 9mm and plenty of ammo -- in case the Zombie Apocalypse started in the next hour.

They would alternate who carried the bag over each leg of the trek. Everyone also carried one sidearm, usually in a shoulder holster. Even I carried a piece -- a nine millimeter -- so that they would have a spare pistol if needed. At least the guards didn't seem all that put off; they were Christians, not Islamic fundamentalist.

As we ran down the beach toward the farthest guard point we saw several dozen families coming down to the beach from the resort.

"I count six," Winnie panted over to Jen. She meant criminals wanted by Interpol. I wasn't even working hard at playing this game.

"I only count four," Lydia wheezed alongside me.

I saw five," Echo was breathing heavily but kept running steadily.

"I saw eight," Jen made her final assessment as we approached the hacienda that contained our quarters. "That similar-looking couple are the children of La Tortuga. A little over a year ago, their old man got into a fight over Bolivia with Harrow. La Tortuga ended up dead -- slain by some deranged hooker and the son and daughter ended up working for Harrow."

"Any guesses on your part," Lydia prodded me. I shook my head.

"I was looking at their wedding bands; they are all the same and I'm willing to bet the inscriptions on the inside have some dark meaning to the wearer. Also, only two women had them who were unaccompanied; the La Tortuga's daughter and a woman none of you seemed to have noticed -- the one with the blue bikini," I noted.

"The heavily tanned one -- Spanish or Italian decent," Echo recalled, "With that conservative electric blue bikini, but she didn't set off my threat radar."

"She's probably so good she hasn't shown up on Interpol's lists yet," Winnie concluded. We climbed up to our apartment, stripped out of our sweaty clothes and waited for our rotation in the shower.

First it was Lydia and Jensen, then Echo and Winnie and lastly me. I insisted that I could take a shower with either group but they argued that I was sexually irresistible and thus had to be kept on a tight leash. Man, I expected some kind of security to monitor me during this so-called vacation but I didn't expect it to be no fun at all.

As I was rinsing off, Echo escorted a member of the staff into the bathroom; there were no doors inside the apartment which continued to annoy the crap out of me.

"Senor Umstead, you presence is required for breakfast at the central surf-side cabana at 9 o'clock sharp," the flunky for the regime announced to me.

By the rules of etiquette that Winifred had provided, I mimicked the proper response carefully. That seemed to satisfy him. Since the ladies had gone over the place with a fine-toothed comb, we were relatively bug-free for a while.

"Well, does anyone have an idea where this is going?" I inquired. "Besides the basics of making them more and more readably accessible finances," I added. "That is my opening supposition."

"Isn't this too soon for a face to face with the major players," Echo worried.

"Maybe not," Lydia countered, "Harrow wants to corrupt Dominic, get him addicted to the rush of easy money and then destroy him."

"Right now Harrow has nothing to offer these alternate powers he's dealing with," Winnie postulated to everyone, "so he must have discovered something new in the past few weeks that makes them think that he has a way around their problems."

"Product in -- money out," I muttered.

"So, can you mask the movement of monies as well as you can ferret them out," Jensen questioned me.

"Sure but it would require three dozen major banks and thousands of accounts at those banks. Remember that no system is foolproof but a hydra based model could be created," I concluded.

"What do you do about the terrorist organizations?" Lydia worried.

"Don't worry, I've got an angle," I smiled at her and was met with a cacophony of groans.

Echo rustled my wet hair,

"So you have no clue?" she chided. I didn't have to confirm her guess; they all know the truth.

(The first meeting)

We went to the central cabana a few minutes before nine and we were the only ones there.

We were approached by a man I imagined was the head of Harrow's security force at this estate. "Mr. Harrow wishes you to come down the sea's edge and talk with him and his associates," I rose and motioned Winnie to come along.

"Only you," the man insisted. I guess he expected some sort of resistance because he let out a sigh of relief when I picked up my lemonade-mango drink and let him lead me away. Winnie followed at a discrete distance.

There were ten men and one woman, Dee Harrow, present sitting in a semi-circle with each end touched by the soft, gentle surf. I was apparently the last one to arrive and the conversation died as I took my seat at the closest end chair. I had no shoes on since they might slow my flight for life if it came to that. Some jack-ass made a comment in a language I couldn't understand.

I casually put on my headphones and put my smart phone on the chairs arm.

"We don't record these meetings," Michael sneered.

"Oh, I'm not needed then," I rose. "Call me when you require my services because I find people talking some sort of chicken-shit Third World babble to be very rude."

Everyone went quiet proving to me that everyone was choosing to be a dick. Muhammad Omar, who seemed to be here with the real terrorist mastermind, stood up and put his hand on some sort of fashionable curved knife. He said something in a condescending tone but again I didn't speak the language. Several of the members, Harrow included, chuckled.

I shrugged and pulled out my earphones before dialing up some tunes.

"Aren't you curious about what he said?" Harrow chided.

"The opinion of any man who is more comfortable mutilating defenseless little girls whose sole crime is to want an education is useless to me," I stated. "He knows I'd kick his ass if he wasn't under the Sultan's protection. He exhibits this by not talking to me in a language he knows I speak."

Omar headed my way in a cold fury, clearly looking forward to stabbing my sitting form. I waited because the Sultan hadn't spoken. That bastard was polite enough to not use a language I knew either -- fucker. Fortunately, I had predicted that might be the case. I let his arm come down, twisted in my seat and let him thump into the same beach chair.

The chair gave way but I was hardly inconvenienced. He tried to slash from his side down position; I locked up his arm and bent back the wrist cruelly enough to make Muhammad Omar cry out. The knife tumbled to the cushion and I forced him to him to a kneeling position with the added benefit of his eyes watering. People had been shouting encouragements fell silent when I picked up the ornate curved blade.

"That is his honor," Harrow sounded amused.

"Good to know," I nodded. I kicked him onto his back as I let go of his arm. Omar was furious, but also freaking afraid of me now. I didn't want his fear. I hurled his knife out into the bay.

"Go fetch, Bitch," I showed my contempt for him.

I could feel the man's rage at the tipping point.

"Harrow, I'm getting my girl because otherwise I'm going to have to school everyone here and that's going to make for a very unproductive meeting," I stated evenly.

"Get her," Harrow allowed. I waited until Omar had moved a few feet away before making my own half turn and waving Winnie over.

There was no chair for Winnie so she had to take up a kneeling position beside me.

"How many languages do you speak?" I whispered to Winnie out the side of my mouth.

"As in 'I can get by in a city' or 'I can recite the dictionary of'?" she responded with deathly quiet.

"That'll do Pig. That'll do," I told Winnie. She was going to bruise me for that but at least I'd hinting that her name was 'Babe'. Yes, that was going to be my defense. Winnie gently put her head on my thigh and reached around, pinching my ass while pulling off the mystique of looking demur and worshipful.

"We have been examining the different parts of our pipelines to the United States and Europe coming under attack, disrupting money flow and leaving product isolated and vulnerable at certain junctures. I have the solution," Harrow grinned. "Let me present Dominic Umstead. Dominic, you are going to create a pipeline governmental agencies can't bring down."

"How much does he know?" the guy who seemed to be the Aya's boss asked in a language I didn't know but Winifred pulled off flawless and obsequiously.

"He doesn't know a damn thing about what we do," Harrow grinned maliciously. He was daring me to fail. I had to think fast but I had already done the shipping schemes inside my head.

"What do you know about children's television programing?" I led off. They all looked at me like I'd lost my mind except Harrow, who seemed to have developed absolute faith in my abilities as a fortuneteller. A few of them made quiet comments which boiled down to 'who is this idiot' in five languages.

"You need a few things for a successful children's television series -- a moderately interesting show -- in this case three prime characters resisting the hordes of Genghis Kahn are going to be a female Chinese Doctor, a brave male veteran Uzbek warrior and a male Arabian thief. These three will have a large global appeal," I began to lay out my hare-brained scheme.

"You will create this show in China, build the action figures in Malaysia and do the dubbing work in the United States, France, the Czech Republic and Hungary," I kept going. "We also will train professional teams of actors with a support staff to go to Anime/Cartoon/Comic conventions all over the globe to support that series."

"You need someone with a clean record to control the production companies but the rest is golden. You get to move people all over the globe for a totally legitimate service. You move your product around inside, or in containers underneath, the toys created to support the show," I explained. "Oh yeah, you will make money in the legitimate side of this business."

Now there was a hush and I felt Winnie clench my arm tightly in a reflexive sense of horror over what I had just said. The Terrorist/Opium Warlord leaned forward and spoke first in a language I would learn was Pashtun.

"Who processes the product and trains the actors and company; also why an Uzbek?" Winnie translated with the noise of an angel whispering to my soul.

"I know zip about global terrorism or the work necessary to produce opium so I'm leaving that production and transit to the companies in Malaysia up to you. Or, you could give me a week and I'd figure out a rotating cycle of container ships to use. It is an Uzbek because it is a happy friendly word for the Pentagon where Pashtun means terrorist," I explained.

The Terrorist Mastermind nodded thoughtfully.

"How does this help us launder the money?" the Chinese gentleman asked intently and Winnie related. I blinked and looked at him in a way that clearly communicated that I thought he was a moron.

"Do you have any idea on how much is spent globally on children's toys and entertainment?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Over ten billion in US dollars; you are creating your own laundering machine in the companies you are creating for this 'cover'. Any moderately successful accountant can hide it all."

"Why would we need you?" The Sultan was polite enough to say in Spanish.

"Maybe you need me because everyone here except for me and Mr. Harrow is marked for death," I looked to the Sultan. "Face it, you are the reason the United States military has Special Forces and I'm betting Ft. Bragg has a full-sized diagram of your compound."

"You do realize that the past five men to have the top spot in your organization have been assassinated by smart bombs and drone strikes," I looked to Mr. Big Bad Terrorist and his buddy Omar. Winnie translated for me. "It is just the way it is, sorry."

"The ten richest countries on Earth all have governmental taskforces specifically devoted to both weapons and drug smuggling -- you win some and they win some," I kept going. "The object will now be to decide how much you give them now, not how much they take from you. Human trafficking operations are woefully underfunded worldwide, so it is a waste of my time to devote efforts there."

Again, there was a pause followed by all the key players talking amongst themselves and with Harrow who occasionally shot me a smug, perhaps even appreciative look. Winnie kept me quietly abreast of the scope of the dialogue. She even prodded me when my idea was about to die.

"Three words for you gentlemen -- McDonald's Happy Meals. They have franchises in three-quarters the nations on earth and 80% of those include a child's entrée with a cheap plastic toy. McDonald's is selling fast food for God's sake. That is a science -- a series of mathematical equations and nothing more."

"Have you heard of Pokémon? Look it up. It is the story of a perpetually pre-teen boy and his lightning bolt throwing bunny/rat hybrid -- I shit you not. It has been around for over ten years as both a TV cartoon series. I haven't pulled any of this data out of my ass gentlemen. All the proof that this plan will succeed is already out there," I sounded bored.

"How much will this cost us?" a man with a very heavy Russian accent addressed me.

"Do you want an estimate or a precise number?" I said and Winnie translated over to Russian.

"Both," he answered in Russian.

"In the current Chinese, South Korean, Malaysian and petrochemical markets -- I would say around 12 million euros," I ran the math in my head. "I can tell you precisely over dinner."

Harrow laughed.

"Dominic can advance us the money," Harrow pledged to the others.

"I could but I'm not," I immediately replied. "You people have a suspicious tendency of permanently misplacing less lethal business associates."

"I'm going to have my cryogenically frozen body interned in my mausoleum of solid gold," I smiled at the assembly. "I'm not giving you guys a dime."

They laughed once more. They weren't agreeing; they simply assumed that they would own me before this was over no matter how smart I was.

Five minutes later they hadn't decided anything except that I had a brilliant idea, or so they hoped. They started tasking minions to take up the details that would get the ball rolling and I was dismissed as others joined the circle. Twenty meters from the meeting, Winnie took my hand and leaned close to me.

"If I ever doubt you again, you have my permission to spank me," Winifred whispered conspiratorially. "You had no clue what they were going to ask you?"

"I had a clue -- I had several clues in fact but I did not know the precise question to be asked," I answered.

I withheld further questions until we gathered with the rest of the team. We all began sunbathing on the beach and waited until the background noise level made Jen happy then Winnie reviewed the meeting for them. Almost everyone seemed depressed.

"Okay Dominic, what's the weakness?" Echo prodded me hopefully.

"Oh please," I grinned, "there is a built in flaw in any operation involving artists."

"There is a secret flaw in the cartoon?" Winnie looked at me hard.

"No," I met her gaze happily, "It is in the actors and the fans at the conventions. Psychologically speaking, a strong minority of the Con-going population will know something is wrong the first time they meet the troupe and those people will blog; conspiracy theory will do the rest."

"That seems weak," Lydia badgered me.

"Not if you are the NSA," Winnie rescued me. "They are all about looking for key words and it will quickly come to their attention if this becomes a global phenomenon," Winnie hugged me, "It's brilliant. Harrow will figure out what gave him away and he won't even know you did it."

"On the off-chance I've been too brilliant and Harrow decides in the next few hours that I'm expendable, can I sneak off with Echo and attempt to convince her to engage me with her carnal favors?" I pleaded to the group. Lydia snickered at me while the other women's looks were unfamiliar to me -- part pity and part hunger.

"Dominic," Echo crawled over to me and whispered in my ear, "it is that time of the month -- started this morning." That took me a second to grasp.

"Well fuck," I groaned but I did hug Echo because she was far more than sex to me.

"Don't be despondent," Echo assured me, "I've agreed to share you with the others for the next few days."

My first thoughts on hearing that were: 'I've got to keep this one' meaning Echo and then 'Am I the James Bond of the 21st century?' Now I had to figure out to handle this. Lydia was in the middle of a messy marital collapse so that left Winnie and Jen and if one was not interested and I picked her, how remote were my chances of sexual relief?

"Let's grab some breakfast first," Echo said. Our wonderful Moluccan server was clearly on the job because our juices were chilled and pulpy. There were no pork products but the variety of fish and shellfish made up for it. Best of all, he hovered close enough to attend our needs but not enough to make us feel watched. Before my second cup of chipped ice, I developed a plan.

"Jen and Winnie, would you like to come up to the room with me for a while?" I offered.

"I can't figure," Lydia giggled, "if Dom did this so I could have girl time with my best friend, or because he wants to be humiliated by trying to take on two physically fit women."

"Consider this cardio-vascular training," I offered.

I stood and Jen and Winnie came up to me on opposite sides and hung their arms around my waist.

"I can't believe I'm about to have sex with a man who was in daycare when I graduated high school," Jensen whispered.

"You are in great shape Jen," Winnie responded, "so you should be able to break the Kid, no sweat."

"True," Jen mused, "but I've never handled that much dick before."

"I'll be gentle," I promised.

"Thanks," Jen kissed my ear. "Sorry for being such a hard-ass that first Saturday."

"That's okay," I turned and kissed her lips, "I was being pretty freaky." That was a lot of weight for Jen to give up. She had been 'institutionalized' by the FBI and that wouldn't work in what I had planned to do -- essentially to create our cell to be a vigilante force, living outside the law.

Jen was happier so I turned back to Winifred who was studying me, still working on her profile of the man I was. I kissed her lips and she smiled.

"When I have Jen occupied," I delicately whispered into Winnie's ear, "sneak up on her okay?" Winnie gave me a quick wink.

"I'm starting to like you despite myself Dominic Umstead," Winnie sighed.

"I'm with you on that sentiment," Jen looked around my chest and smiled at Winnie," He's really easy to hate because he's so convinced he's right."

"But?" I hoped a 'but'; otherwise I was going to feel like a real heel.

"But after I went over the stand-off on the runway in my mind, I put it all together and realized you trusted us to trust you and you don't do that easily," Jen told me. "Dom, you backed up everything your instincts dictated you to do with your life. Inside a minute you got inside the bad guy's mind and schooled him and that's a talent I can understand and appreciate."

"That's nice, but I was right next to Dom and it was a bit more terrifying for me. I still want you to work on a real apology for me," Winnie nudged me with her hip. I couldn't take that from the new girl to the team -- not and stay in charge. I put a hand on the small of her back then worked several fingers down inside the bikini and squeezed her right butt cheek.

"Jen, he's got his hand on my butt," Winnie announced.

"Why didn't we take him last night?" Jen playfully questioned Winnie.

"We wanted to be sensitive to Echo," Winnie answered. "Now it's Open Season and I plan to make good use of that photographic mind and his penchant for pornography."

"Now this is the point where we regret being in a country that has no sex industry and no sex toy establishments," I commented as we walked inside the hacienda. "Do I need to ask what Lydia and Echo took as extra gear?" I whispered at the threshold.

"2 extra clips for their sidearm and 4 flash-bangs," Jen whispered backed.

I chuckled at the image of them hiding that equipment on their bikinis. I shared my amusement with the ladies.

"Yeah, you guys have it so easy -- replace your banana wrapped in foil for a .38 Smith and Wesson and no one is the wiser," Jen zinged.

I opened my swim trunks and looked down.

"The first one of you to hand me a Derringer and says 'hide this' gets a sub-standard performance review," I smirked.

"Don't worry, Dom," Winnie smiled. "Every man claims to have a bazooka but few really know how to use it."

"Gosh Sarge," I looked back and forth between the two ladies, "are you going to hold my hand?"

"After the noises Echo made last night, I think for safety's sake I'll keep hold of something else," she said with dancing eyes. I imagined it was easy for most people to forget she was a Blue Blood -- Harvard, Vassar, Yale, Cape Cod and the Hamptons.

Jensen Furst was more like me; working class family -- dad was the son of a cop and was a Police Captain in Memphis. She'd lost the accent but not the sensibilities, I was willing to bet. We made our way to the room and I didn't even attempt to break protocol -- Jen entered and swept the room with her trained eyes while Winnie kept a hand on me outside.

Jen gave us the 'all clear' and we all made straight for the bedroom. Both women didn't miss a beat as they secured the submachine guns under the head pillows and slipped their handguns beneath the mattress. I didn't even bother -- I handed my holstered pistol to Winnie who tucked mine in next to hers.

Clothes came next, with Jen flashing me quick looks from time to time. It was pre-ordained that I got in the middle -- in other words, Jen was trying to put some distance between us and Winnie and I were having none of it. That meant I was correct in believing she wasn't an adrenaline junkie, which was good.

"Jensen," I rolled onto my side, facing her. I leaned in and kissed her. She took that well until she realized I was going back for seconds and thirds. Suddenly she didn't want to be doing this. It boiled down to love/affection and she didn't have that for me. She liked me well enough but a girl like Jensen wanted more before she laid down with a man.

Since trying to get her to do this at a later date would suck and with her currently mulling over how to put this in her status update to the FBI, I had to find a way to worm through her defenses.

"Once we work our way through this, we'll have fooled Harrow and we can move on to the next step," I whispered.

"So this is something we are working through," she responded professionally.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say I don't find you attractive. I have wanted to do this for some time, but I know we are also working an assignment and I'm not going to pressure you," I reasoned.

"What do find attractive about me?" she interrogated before kissing me back.

"I know you are going to think this is stupid but it was the way you programmed the navigation system and the auto-pilot parameters," I responded.

"You want to fuck me because I'm a good pilot?" she pulled back and blinked.

"It doesn't hurt you look smoking in a white bikini either but then my dating track record has been smart, professional, mature women," I pointed out.

"So if it wasn't for the job and Echo, we might date?" Jen had a faint smile.

"Are you kidding me," I snorted. "I'm only twenty-three; you would never normally date a kid like me; admit it."

And then Jensen Furst giggled.

"I'll give you that," she laughed then ran her hand through my hair right above my right ear. "I wouldn't let a wet-behind-the-ears FBI recruit like you buy me a drink, much less invite me up to your room." I returned the favor by brushing her hair behind her ear and sucking on the exposed lobe.

This time her reaction was very different, moaning and applying gentle pressure on the back of my head to hold me close. I had enough freedom of movement to kiss her jaw, cheek and temple but not much more. I freed up my right arm and began caressing her breasts which drew forth even more pleasurable noises.

We spent several minutes with me treating her earlobe like a sensitive nipple while my fingers played over her real nipples. Winnie pressed up behind me so she could watch the fun but decided to slide down my body then climb over so that she could start kissing Jen on her thighs. Jen answered that by opening up her legs and pulling the left up and away.

I settled between her legs, trying to work out how, exactly, I was going to enter her when she rolled her hips up and I sunk right in, penetrating steadily. Jen's vagina was fluid warmth and I was buried to the hilt in one push.

"Oh fuck," she gasped as she wrapped her arms and legs around me to hold me tight.

It took thirty seconds for her vagina to get comfortable with my cock and her psyche to grapple with the fact she was getting fucked. When her eyes opened, I began kissing her lips, the tip of her nose and her eyelids. She took a few deep breathes before ramping up reactions to my touches with those of her own and then began bucking up against my thrusts.

This was my signal to give Jen a little control then take it all away. I rolled sluggishly toward the center of the bed, Jen ending up on top still grinding away. When Winifred mounted my knees behind Jen, Jen gave me this knowing look; a virtual 'bravo' to my tactical handling of events.

Winnie made a terrific display of affection, kissing and nibbling the back of Jen's neck and down each shoulder while massaging Jen's breasts and ribbing her tightened nipples against Jen's back. Even knowing she'd been trapped didn't save Jen from the cascading excitement. When she let out an explosive moan we knew we had her.

I didn't see what Winnie's fingers did but I could feel those fingers stroll down Jen's stomach until,

"Oh God!" she exclaimed and took off like a race horse turned bronco. Jen propped her hands on my shoulder joints, looking down at me and smiling as the prelude to an orgasm stretched her features until they could take no more.

It was like the sound a pissed off cougar combined with a low-sound rumbling that vibrates the flesh and rattles the bones. Jen went on like this for nearly a minute before lowering her sweat drenched body down on me. She looked down at me, our eyes only inches apart and she said,

"Let's do that again," and that's when I shot off -- the very idea of hearing that sound again and not participating had been the final frontier of my control. The promise of more had set me off.

"Fuck you," she panted to Winnie, "he's giving it to me -- nice and hot, just how I like it."

"Ah pooh," Winnie gave vent to her play-anger. "Dom, how long do you take to recharge?"

"How about we get some sugar by way of fruit bowls to recharge and let Jen and I grab a shower," I suggested, "because these ceiling fans can't compare to central air."

Jen rolled of the bed spryly, pulled out her pistol and began nakedly jaunting off to the bathroom.

"Coming?" she quizzed me playfully.

Jen had let her hair down in so many ways. I got out of bed to follow Jen. Winnie whistled and slid my firearm across the bed and I raced across the open area so I could catch Jen by the shower stall. Winnie was back by our bed ordering room service in a language I didn't understand.

Jensen hadn't much experience bathing another person, much less a man she'd just made love to but she was patient and she lent me that patience to not rush all over her body, exploring her again. As she stepped out of the shower I wrapped her up in my arms again.

"Calm down Tiger," she patted my hand clasp under her breasts, "We'll have months together, if not longer. I'm sticking around."

"Winnie," I called out, "Let's recharge, gather up the girls and see what we can do for some entertainment on this super-sized island."

"Absolutely," Winnie laughed. She threw our clothes at us then handed Jen her big gun like someone was going to jump us in the shower.

"We have a good surf coming off the Philippine Sea," Winnie suggested.

"How do we handle security?" Jen inquired, back on the job once more.

"We..." was all Winnie got off when her Spidey-senses went off. "Down!" Winnie went to her belly with practiced ease and Jen jumped on my back and bore me to the ground.

Two massive 'thumps' came from the door. Two things worked in our favor: unlike the rest of our apartment suite, the door was built super-solid and even it couldn't take two grenades, it didn't blow into the room though it definitely needed replacing. The second thing was the food cart catty-cornered near the entrance masked in the smoke.

My head was ringing as Jen hoisted me up and led me to the closest rattan sofa. We hit it, knocking it on its back. Jen pushed a second cushion between me and the front door before giving herself the same flimsy protection. I couldn't see Winnie. The bad guys made themselves noticeable by screaming 'Allah Akbar!' and shooting through the doorway.

Jen reached out to shove me to the floor and smirked when she found me already there. I learned really, really fast as she was finding out.

Jen calmly looked over to me as cushion stuffing rained down on us from the AK's 5.45x39mm rounds coming at hip level. She held up three fingers and I nodded that she heard three attackers. How anyone could tell the difference between assault rifles of the same make and model. There was another cry to God Almighty then a cry of surprise as the first guy charged through the smoky door and into the food cart, spilling them both.

Though freaking scared for my life, I could tell the difference between Winnie's HK MP7N (aka the euro-built death machine) cycling and the other weapons. Even as I saw Jen silently counting and the guy who hit the cart crying out his last breath, I saw the plan coming together. The second guy in the room tracked Winnie's shot, so he looked left.

Jen popped up and shot him. Had his gun been pointing straight ahead it would have been a quick-draw, but he was still trying to bring his AK to bear when Jen put three shots in his jihadist left-of-center mass. Dead, dead, dead. The third guy was my old buddy Mohammed Omar. He charged in and unloaded on full automatic.

I stopped peaking and dodged out the corner of the sofa between Jen and wherever Winnie was hiding. Omar caught my move and walked the fire toward me when he clicked empty.

"Mag!" Winnie screamed. I saw her get up from a small scrimshaw table she'd been using as cover and run Omar's way from the right.

Jensen rose up and circled in on the left. I stayed put. Winnie banked some bullets into the doorway for no reason I could see until Omar twisted and fired bullets off to the right, trying to hit Winnie. This was Jen's cue to point her gun around the left corner and put several bullets into Omar. Playing bridge with these two would be a hell of a lot of fun.

Winnie peaked around the corner, hesitated then called out.

"I hear footfalls and Mohammed isn't dead but he soon will be," Winnie commented coolly. "Plan?"

"Help me get him outside -- Jen, cover us from the door," I acted decisively.

"What are we going to do?" Winnie muttered as we dragged Omar under his arms to the railing outside our room. Seven of Harrow's armed security guards came up the stairs and the leader began yelling at me.

"He wants us to put Mohammed Omar down and step away," she translated -- damn her and her command of the spoken word.

Okay, that's how it was being played, I thought.

"Winnie go inside and don't give up your arms no matter what," I stated decisively. Winnie scampered back. The guards kept coming and seemed willing to risk me and my pistol in order to get Omar back. I heaved Omar up by the back of his shirt, put the pistol to the back of head and made eye contact with the security team leader.

"Christus triumphe!" I shouted and put a slug through the back of Omar's skull and rained grey matter and bone fragments down to the gardens below. I let go of the body and about half of us watched it tumble over the railing. I then raised my hands and let them disarm me. See, Moluccans are devout Christians who are raised on sectarian violence with their Muslim neighbors

For a single crucial second I gave them a moral quandary. Omar was dead -- were they going to kill me over the death of some damn dirty Muslim by a man who invoked Christ's name? They didn't know me or that I was an atheist but they wanted to believe a guest got some payback that their loyalty to Harrow denied them.

Indeed, they handled me with kid gloves. They could have shoved me to the ground and stomped on me hard but they kept hold of my shoulders and marched me away. I went to the far side of the complex to this surprisingly modest bungalow separated from the hotel complex by a moat that doubled as an outdoor pool. Even more surprising, Eloise and Dee intercepted me at the arched bridge and my security buddies exchanged a few pleasant words and departed.

The Harrow twins nodded, took me by the elbows and led me inside.

"It is nice to see you still alive," Eloise said softly. From across my body, Dee shot Eloise a worried look. "Dom, are you going to make a break and run for it if we take our hands off of you?" Eloise snorted.

"Nope -- I can't leave my ladies, I wouldn't leave you to Old Man Harrow's wrath and I have unfinished business," I answered in Czech. Eloise let go of my arm. A few seconds later Dee did too.

"You meant to wink, right?" Dee inquired in Czech then caught herself.

"Well, I was planning to, miss, but I wanted to make sure you didn't dodge the wrong way," I nodded. There was silence until I arrived at the veranda. Big Bad Terrorist Guy, the Sultan and Michael were sitting back and, in theory, drinking religion specific beverages.

"Oh Dominic," Michael Harrow hoped up, highlighting his finely sculpted bronzed physique, "you've created a bit of the dilemma." I could be a smart ass but sometimes it's worth it to pamper the intellect of a psychopaths.

"That was not my intent," I bowed to the Sultan first then nodded to the terrorist and finally looked confused to Harrow.

"Mr. Omar seems to have died, Dominic, while on the way to make peace with you," Michael looked like a polar bear coaxing up a baby seal to a blow hole.

"Oh...that's was what that was," I nodded. "You know he didn't like my female translator and while in the process of working that out, some unseen party tossed two grenades in the room. A shot rang out and then a full firefight ensued."

"I did assume this was a trap set by Omar and I did execute him in front of your staff," I seemed apologetic. "I found such a lousy ambush to be insulting." The Main Terrorist shifted as what I said was translated to him though I had the sinking impression he spoke Spanish just fine though he talked in what I believed was Arabic.

"Mr. Tariq Masud wants to know what lies you used to lure Omar to your place," Harrow translated.

"I told Omar I had found the penis and balls he was seriously lacking," I replied deadpan to which the Sultan let slip a chuckle and Harrow grinned before conveying my words. "Honestly Mr. Masud, after I played Frisbee with his knife earlier this morning, what could I have possibly have said to lure Omar to my place for a three on three showdown?"

Belatedly Harrow passed the message on but Tariq was already reading my eyes and judging my level of guilt. He spoke few words but I made out the words 'Christus triumphe'. This caught the Sultan by surprise and he was not appreciative of my ploy.

"Mr. Masud wants to know when you found God," Harrow asked with that shark-like grin.

"I haven't but I really wanted to kill Omar and do it in a way that didn't get me killed by the security staff," I revealed. "If Mr. Harrow has taught me one thing in our short relationship it is that the only good enemy is both good and dead. I had a chance to remove Omar and I took it. There seems to be a misconception that my lack of a body count makes me vulnerable."

"Besides, ask anyone -- the sequence was two grenades first then several short bursts of fire, a full auto assault rifle going off then two bursts and a final pistol shot," I stated evenly. "I'm no tactical savant, but why would we be spraying the only entrance to the room? Saving ammo and waiting for help to arrive would seem saner.

That means someone was trying to force an entry and that means someone put Omar up to this," I was concluding. "Which means Omar was already dead despite what I did."

"How do you see that?" Harrow studied me.

"The Sultan would definitely find out who violated his hospitality," I lied. I didn't think he knew who did what, but keeping the butcher on my side was worth some flattery.

"He would have Omar interrogated and someone would have been in trouble," I stated. The Sultan nodded and developed his own wicked smile. Heaven be praised, the Sultan said the dumbest thing.

"I'll need to have my security team talk to your staff Michael, to determine how three heavily armed men made it to Mr. Umstead's part of the hotel," the potentate demanded.

"Of course," Harrow responded but there was no joy in that voice. He hadn't believed Omar would kill me. He was trying to kill one of my girls, he'd used substandard (to the quality of my professional women) tools to get the job done and had not only missed the mark, he was now caught in the back-blast.

The Sultan wouldn't get far; of that I was sure, but Harrow would be swallowing his pride for a moment because right now he needed the Sultan's good will. The group dynamic told me that the Major League Terrorist knew what I knew now as well. Omar was a fanatic nutjob, but he had been Tariq's fanatic nutjob and that man's life had been expended in a way that didn't support Tariq's, and therefore his God's, agenda. That was trouble.

"I'll go wait in my quarters for the Sultan's men to question me," I said, then nodded to Tariq and Harrow and bowed again to the Sultan. No one said a thing as I left which made me wonder about the existence of a Higher Power after all. Here I was still alive in the land were pineapples were a style of grenade and missive was the misspelling of missile; yay me.