Nancy (Final Fin The End)

Nancy
Nancy knew little about the island of Crete when she left.  Ador, a native of Egypt, had told her that the people were lovely and the weather was better.  But her relationship with Ador had deteriorated into stubborn bitterness from the emotional storm between them prior to her leaving.  Matin tried to convince Nancy to stay.  But he finally gave up. "So, this is it," Matin had said when they came together in the morning before she left.
In spite of the fatigue and wariness from the last few days she said, "Yea, we'll see each other again soon."
Ador who stood behind Matin broke the feuding silence between her and Nancy by adding, "It's good, it's ok." Ador looked like she needed a hug so Nancy grabbed for her Egyptian friend. "It'll be great to see everyone again." And they hugged.
Ador had chosen to go with her people to help the displaced survivors around the Tigris and Euphrates.  Weeks earlier the two massive life-sustaining rivers suddenly combined at a forty mile stretch that encompassed major urban areas.  The life-sustaining rivers became torrents of death and harbingers of disease due to years of human negligence.  The land below the rivers had become so fragile due to human engineering that the land separating them became saturated and eventually drown between the two.
Ador had not given up though, "Nancy," she said as they still were hugging. "Please come with us.  Grant is dead.  We're your family now."
"You'll never be my family," Nancy said coldly separating from the embrace.  She was thinking of her grandmother who had given her so much advice.  She thought of brothers and especially of her mother. Then she thought of the girl in front of her who had given her more than advice and support-Ador gave Nancy hope. "I mean-" Nancy said trying to correct herself.
"No, it's fine," Ador said swiftly and with wide eyes.
"I really- thank you so much," Nancy said.  The appreciation went unacknowledged from Ador and was unsatisfying to Nancy.  The sting from the conversation still stung Nancy as she rested in the plane.
 "In other news,"  the news from the inboard internet feed announced. "The now ex-investigator for the Newtopian Beaurau of Investigations, Norman Oakland, has publicly admitted to dealing drugs to high school students. He has been placed on a 16 month unpaid suspension and faces criminal charges.  The investigator had no pending internal inquiries and so the unbidden confession seems motivated by pure altruism or blackmail." What part of my life has been motivated by pure altruism? Nancy asked herself.  Nancy fell asleep until she landed in Spain.  She took a taxi to Sumeet's house from the airport.  The city was quieter.  The agitated and energetic student protesters had mostly traveled to the Tigris and Euphrates' disaster.  She rolled the window down although it was cool.  She remembered meeting Sumeet last time and thought she would never see him again.  Sumeet was a member of one of the weathly Muslim families is Spain.  The family had transformed from Islamic conquerors in the 1700s as Sumeet described it to contemporary aristocrats now.  Though Sumeet's failing health was the only concern to Nancy now; her fiance was dead, the revolution had been distracted, and her family was likely to have disowned her.  She wanted to cry again like she had when she first found out about Seamus' murder.  But she was more determined than ever to find out what Sumeet knew.  If Sumeet died with information that could lead to Seamus' murderer she would never forgive herself.
Sumeet was almost nothing under his blankets when she arrived.  She saw his face light up and sit up when he saw her. She watched him sink back further due to general weakness in his body.  His hand was cold when they grabbed for each other.
She couldn't ask, how are you? "How is your throat?" She could only think to ask.
"It's better.  It's more dry now though," he said softly. "Here," he gave her a note card. "This is the American I want you to talk to."
"Who is she?" Nancy read the card.   It read 'Norris Winterclock- moves money-affiliation with WW'.
"She is part of a banking software company that moves money around. She moved Grant's money too.  If anyone knew about Grant's death it's got to be her."
"What does a banker in America have to do with Grant's death?" Nancy's head hurt.
"Look, it's all about money.  People celebrate when there is more money and people go to war when there is less money.  People kill other people when there is money.  My great uncle dueled and killed his cousin over a ranch to the south of the city that was worth 12 dollars."
"How do you know this?" Nancy asked
"That's just a family story really."
"No, I mean about this Norris lady?"
"Oh from my uncle," Sumeet answered easily.
"The same uncle who dueled and killed your cousin?" Nancy asked shocked.
"No, that was my great uncle and his own cousin not mine. My, uncle is wealthy and used Norris to move much of his money out of Spain.  He's just, an expert, our family needs to keep the money moving.  The amount of money my uncle controls is enough to tempt any sovereign state. The big thing here," Sumeet sat up slightly. "See, she convinced him to bank with her when she included discretely that she moved money for Grant while he was in prison.  She said she kept it out from the hands of the international courts.  She said it was in the millions of dollars," Sumeet said conclusively as if that connected the remaining dots.  Instead, Nancy was more confused than ever.
"Grant is actually a millionaire," Nancy thought out loud.
"Right, and any politician who is also a millionaire is probably a crook," Sumeet stopped abruptly.  He had become lively describing the conspiracy.  But he realized that he called Nancy's dead fiance a crook. Sumeet sunk further into the bed.  He looked down and summoned a cluster of phlegm.  As he searched for the aluminum bin with his hand to spit it in Nancy connected the dots she had refused to earlier:  If Seamus was stealing or corrupt he could have angered any number of violent people. But who? And if this was true am I still in love with him? Nancy asked herself. Of course, a quiet part of her answered.
"And if he was dealing with Norris directly like she claims then she might know something," Sumeet said when he recovered from spitting the phlegm.
The phone rang beside the bed.  Sumeet reach over and grabbed it blindly and accurately.  He turned the heavy black receiver to his ear between it and his pillow.  Nancy pictured him lying just like he was now on this end of the phone the last time they spoke. She had been in a small town outside of an international super prison when they spoke.  "Someone from Newtopia, yea, your home country, is pulling the strings," he had said.  Now he look at her listening to the phone.
"Yea, ok, here she is," he lifted the phone to her. She silently threw her hands in the air and mouthed, "Who?" Sumeet mouthed something that she did not recognize and nodded.
"Hello?" The cool plastic of the heavy black phone chilled her.
"Nancy, this is Dell," a male voice said on the other end of the line. Nancy's head raced back to college only a year earlier.  She remembered the long nights and the fountain in the middle of campus.  She remembered kissing Dell.  She was completely disarmed.
"Dell, I am- where are you?"
"I can't really tell you.  But I wanted to warn you that some agency is going after you.  They're going to come at you like they did with me.  They'll use someone you know against you to get what they want.  You were always better than me and I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?
"I told them who you were.  I gave them your name. I know you were interested in Grant, the Ambassador when you were interning for Baxton back in school. That's all I told them.  I know they will call you too."
"Who are they?-" Nancy asked urgently. The phone clicked and she heard the singular sound from the dial tone. She hung it up as if getting rid of a handful of nails.  She looked at Sumeet and before she could say anything the phone rang again.
"Hello?" She said.
"Is this Nancy Hope Rodriguez Sobatka?"
"Who is this?" Nancy answered cautiously.

Fast Track To Oblivion (2009) by Steve Roll
www.steverollart.com

Clarence (Final)

Clarence

"Don't you want to know why?  Why we built this case. And where it's going,"

Unnamed Investigator

"You shouldn't be so naive- to follow this new religion," Clarence said as he tested the strength of the handcuffs.
"What religion, the worshipers?" Norman Oakland asked.  His voice was amplified by the strange makeup of the mostly aluminum room.  His deep voice crackled and boomed in the small room.
"No, call it Newtopian Noise; it's a religion that is chartered by large businesses and made tidy by government and the general routine of things," Clarence contested.
"Oh that," Norman said dismissively. "That religion is the oldest one on the planet. Its alter is death and its alms are blood and sweat of the middle class. But it's your little cult with the World Worshipers that is different."
"It's not mine, it's not theirs," he said. The unanswered question of who's it really was hung in their air.  Ignoring it, Norman, still curious said, "That's against the wall, splattered.  It means nothing to me except something to clean up.  Don't forget who's pulling the stings right now and WHO PUT YOU IN HERE!" Norman said raising his voice towards the end of the brief tirade.
"It just something to clean up for you.  But it was never supposed to go like that was it?

"The bosses probably say Sam's Town massacre was your fault.  And now you have to clean up your mess.  If you thought 'friendly' Jenny wasn't that friendly get ready for the backlash from your own agency," Clarence reasoned.
"You're right," Oakland yielded.  "The bosses think it's my fault-"
"And it is," Clarence interrupted.
"But you will be happy to hear," Oakland continued ignoring the comment. "That I am supposed to clean it up.  Therefore you, the dead civilians, the dead worshipers, and the dead good guys from the Sam's Town Massacre are all my responsibility.  I prayed for you to live, though. Of anyone there that died I hoped you would live."
"I'm touched," Clarence said sarcastically.
"Yea, well.  The reason I prayed so hard is because you are the missing link." Oakland stood and looked around at the plain aluminum walls. He pressed his index finger repeatedly against the table and looked up shaking his head as if about to say something.  He even opened his mouth but then shut it.  He turned and left the room.  Clarence didn't know what to believe.  But suggesting that he was the missing link could refer to any number of possibilities.  He had been a part of so any investigations perhaps he had stumbled on some valuable information that Oakland's investigative bureau wanted.  If that was the case Clarence would give him the information but would make Oakland dance for it. He arrested me in front of my children.  He has to pay.
Oakland returned with a file and a female investigator.  He placed two pictures in front of Dell.
"You don't have enough evidence on me anyway," Clarence said without looking at the photos.
"Clarence, there is a war going on here.  We don't need evidence," Oakland said implying the extent he was willing to go. In front of Clarence was a picture of Dell and next to it a picture of recently murdered ex-Ambassador Seamus Grant.  Seeing the two faces made Clarence think back to when he met Dell.  He could honestly say that he never met Grant but he knew the connection instantly.  "I'm not the missing link," Clarence said. Oakland silently threw his hands up.
"I can't-" Oakland began but was interrupted by Clarence.
"A girl is," Clarence said as an image of Nancy Hope Rodriguez Sabotka flash in his mind.
"I can put you in contact with Dell and he can give you the girl.  But I'm going to need something from you, Norman," Clarence said.
"Shit," Oakland hissed.
"That's the only way you contact Dell.  And if I can set something up with Dell he'll get you to her."
"Don't you want to know why?  Why we built this case. And where it's going," the female investigator asked irritated.
"I already know most of that and otherwise I don't care; I just want to go home."
"So what do you want from me?" Oakland asked impatiently.  Clarence thought of the leaves out side of his house.  He thought of the smell of grass and soil as he lay face down in it. Pressed against the earth he can remember Kaylee shouting in fear.  When he allowed himself to remember the guns pointed at him and his daughter he looked up at Oakland.
"Let's just say it's going to be humbling...for you."  After that it was mostly negotiating with Oakland's superiors.  Oakland first complained and laughed.  But administration was eager to close the case and willing to place Oakland under the buss if need be.  As Clarence left the small aluminum interrogation room he heard Oakland still arguing with the department heads with flashes of anger mixed with surprised fear.

Grant (Final)

Grant

 "What about poor old senator Baxton?"

Leroy

Ex-Ambassador Seamus Grant's hands were no longer bound to the side of the bed.  He had become very feeble. It took him a few minutes just to sit up. Standing is the first step, the first step is the second step, Grant thought, coaching himself to move towards the bathroom.  His slow shuffle was now caused by his own fatigue and pain whilst before it had been due to metal ankle bands.  The steps were small but he tried going faster. That was when he became dizzy and the world suddenly flipped upside down.  He grabbed the wall in time and continued. 

When he exited the bathroom his attorney, Max Leroy, was sitting on the chair next to his bed. The doctor visits had slowed since his condition was terminal but Leroy was there in that chair everyday by 10am.  The unmistakable glow of fame and ambition shone from the lawyer.  But from Leroy it was more of a slippery brine that leaked from his slanted grin and waxed eyebrows.  

If his brother hadn't recommended the lawyer personally Grant would have never hired him. "He's the best in the business," Grant's brother, Tony, had said.  Tony was the only person who he trusted with his back-up plan.  Large sums of money were now being deposited in his old account at regular intervals by various fast food chains. He asked Tony to retrieve them for him.
---
Mini-Chapter on Grant's International Corporate and Diplomatic Crimes

Grant had been organizing frequent but minor political feats in order for food chains to gain certain portions of the market share in Europe.  He managed this though government regulation on certain products such as organic, genetically modified, and even as general as high fiber products.  He had exercised Newtopia's longstanding, stable wealth against smaller countries in order to force legislation banning or taxing this type of food or that.  Once passed, one fast food chain would move into the area with a product that filled the new gap in the market.  As an ambassador he had many opportunities to perform these behind-the-scenes deals.  He had seven ongoing 'cases' before he had been imprisoned in Crete for espionage.  

The International Security Council was right to suspect him but he had done very little actual espionage.   His crimes were actually laundering, accepting bribes, and political coercion. His brother might have suspected something. But so far it seems his little brother was as loyal as he was ignorant of Grant's international crimes. Tony was an ideologist so Grant had told him the money was from Newtopia as both back-pay and compensation for his own hardship for being in prison.
End Mini-Chapter
---

Leroy, the very public and proficient lawyer, gleamed back at Grant as he hobbled back to his bed.  It make Grant uneasy that Leroy knew everything.  "I don't want to talk today," Grant said.  

"I just want to undestand one last thing," Leroy said.  The news that Grant was dying arrived two days ago.  That same day Grant revealed to Leroy the multi-layered schemes he used to extort money using his political influence. Leroy had listened in a quiet, somber state. And throughout that day and yesterday he had asked followup questions about Grant's strategy: which political people he involved, which countries, etc.  Today's question seemed like another such question.  But Grant was surprised when Leroy asked, "What about poor old Senator Baxton?"  How did Leroy put the pieces together so fast? Grant thought.  Surprised at the lawyers ability to connect the dots Grant, nonetheless, answered honestly.

"Well as far as I can figure: one or some of the fast food companies found out I was playing them against each other.  And since they had no clue I was pulling the strings they figured out it had to be someone with political connections. They guessed wrong. And instead of killing the bad guy they killed just a plain old scum bag politician," Grant said.  It felt good reviewing the facts with someone who was smart... and legally obligated to conceal his wrongdoing.

"I see so they thought Baxton was you.  But then why did they try to kill you in Crete?" Leroy tried answering his own question: "Because by then they found out you were the one manipulating them."

"No, see that's what I thought at first.  But they don't- they're so clean.  The wealthy echelon of Europe were responsible for so many deaths in the past seven months you wouldn't believe.  But they never hire some fool to shoot someone in broad daylight, at such a public venue as the Cretan court. Those, people, they kill clean."

"Then who tried to kill you in Crete?" Leroy thought out-loud.

Just then Grant's nurse swung from the entrance of his room holding tight to the wall as she violently pivoted into the room. She searched the room for only a second with swift scans from the doorway.  When her eyes met Grant's she shouted at him, "your brother was attacked downstairs!" Leroy watched Grant struggle to rise from the bed.  The recent trip to the bathroom and discussion about his schemes in Europe had drained Grant to exhaustion.  Leroy pulled out his pen and notebook and nodded at Grant before rushing out of the room.  The nurse followed Leroy.  

A bearded man in blue jeans walked in casually moments later.  He could have been in his thirties or fifties, Grant could not know.  

Grant squeezed the aluminum rails of his bed and began sweating.  "Who are you?" he asked. 

The bearded man just shook his head and walked to the window.  He grabbed the tall metal cabinet next to the window and dragged it to right in front of the window.  It can't be the end, now.  I'm supposed to die later.  The bearded man walked over and looked at Grant. "Looks like you're already dying," he said callously. 

"I am actually," Grant said.  "The doctors have given up. I'm supposed to die in a month at most." Tears were welling in Grants eyes now.  He thought of Nancy doing all the hard work in searching for his incriminating flash drive.  And he thought of her innocent passion that he would never see again.  "Just let me stay another month."

"Why do you care," the bearded man asked. "If you die you die. We all die." The simple lesson from the bearded man was chilling to Grant.  

"What are you going to do?"

Picture by Liam Hanninen Downtown Chicago

"Do you really want to know? Just close your eyes."  Grant closed his eyes.  He listened to the distant noise of commotion downstairs.
Grant began to sense every emotion he felt: he hoped his brother was ok.  He wanted to see Nancy one more time.  He had a sudden surge of empathy for the bearded man.  He's just doing his job, Grant thought.  His thoughts raced to the road he made for himself. That's something I never did.  But at-least my job didn't get people killed. The irony hit him on his last moments as an image of the newspaper headline appeared in his darken thoughts.  "Senator Baxton, Murdered!"

Norris (Final)

Norris

"So Grant is really enemy number one?" Norris

Norris thought wistfully of the burnt turkey breast.  It warmed her still when she thought of Adam saying, "I might have died from smoke inhalation."  He was a heavy smoker and the thought of that irony was a welcomed stray to the, disturbing truth.  Adam had left her the next day.  He left her a note saying, "It was delicious. But really I'm just too young for you- you said so yourself." Norris had been hurt but was not surprised.  She had often said to herself and him; "He's much too young for this old fat lady. He'll just leave me one day."  She was grateful for her routine which cushioned the damage to her psyche and self-esteem.  She had walked around with the sting hoping that someone would pull it out for her.  A week after Adam left her she realized, No one has asked me how I am doing. 

Usually she had been relieved when the buzz of coworker chatter was only distant white noise.  I'm so good at pushing people away. That's another thing I'm good at.

The 'other' thing or the current thing was a very new thing, and it was a secret thing.  She had begun performing her own investigation on Ambassador Grant's account.  Large amounts of money was being deposited into his account irregularly.  Larger single amounts would then be withdrawn regularly.  My fling was heartbreaking, Mr. Ambassador, but your fling with these companies will be life taking, Norris thought.

The electronic financial records prior to last week had been stolen directly from the Cohort's servers.  Norris began an investigation to find out what was missing when the network was reestablished the next day.  She found that all accounts had been unchanged or fell under 'usual activity' as not to have raised any red flags.  All accounts were secure.  

The huge amounts of money were only noticed by coincidence. A $20,000 deposit would have alarmed the software had it occurred while the servers were down.  But once the servers were back on the bank screening software security threshold was lowered.  Norris zipped to Ambassador Grants file out of courtesy.  She provided the extra scrutiny because they had a brief, professional history where she had met him when he visited the United States.  They had dinner prior to his leaving. He admired American politics, conservation measures, and thoughtful, calculated steps on the world stage.  

Norris had picked up the phone to warn him of the substantial amounts of money added to his account so soon after the server was compromised. But then she thought, Since when is it a bad thing to suddenly receive huge amounts of money?  So out of courtesy, again, yet mostly from a darker curiosity, Norris resisted calling Grant.  

McDonalds and Burger King had provided huge contributions to the account irregularly every few hours since the first a week ago.  Norris' heart skipped a beat when she saw $190,000 withdrawn two days ago.  And then the same amount from the same place was withdrawn yesterday.  

Time to connect the dots, Norris said.  She picked up her office phone and called Apex Oblivion in Newtopia. She felt alive.  And her pulse wasn't just evidence of a pumping heart it was the rhythm of her success.  

"Hello?" A deep male voice answered.

"Apex?"

"No, one second." Norris waited while she was put on hold.  There was only silence and her adrenaline.  

"How did you get this number?" A new male voice asked not unkindly.

"I've had it forever. Apex?" Norris asked again.

"No, and what is your name?"

"Norris Winterclock, and your-" the phone clicked silence again.  There was silence on the other end of the line for over a minute but less than three minutes.  

"Norris?" Another male voice asked.

"Apex?"

"Yes, how are you? I can't believe you still have my number.  I've had it forwarded to my work phone now."

"Wow, you really are something now, huh? What do you do?"

"I can't really talk about that now?  It's great to hear from you and hear your voice but what can I do for you?"

"Sure, well do you still work with any World Worshipers?" Norris said sarcastically. 

"You have no idea." Apex replied. Norris chuckled and continued, eager to move her investigation forward.

"Well I know they are at odds with the word-wide franchises like McDonalds and I have a client who might be involved behind the scenes with the franchises."

"Great, well. I can't say much about that but if you give me his information I'll see if I can connect the dots for you."

"Exactly! Thanks Apex.  I knew you were involved in the Newtopian noise so much as to perk up for this. Ok, his name will be familiar to you, I'm sure. It's: Seamus Grant."

"Seamus, is not 'involved with them'," Apex said changing his tone. "He is them! He has connected the franchises across Europe to dominate sales over the younger population that's rioting. He's not just taking bribes, he's organizing the network of bribes.  If he has anything to say about the franchises it's not that they sign his paycheck but that they work for him.  The cocky bastard-"

"Is a politician and just got out of a brutal prison.  It sounds like they're going to let him go because the Cretan prison's humanitarian policy violations." Norris interrupted. 

"Yes, we messed that up too."

"That was you guys?" Norris said shocked. "I was sure the Worshipers from Cyprus organized that or one of the Greek cells."

"Nope. And we did that part ourselves because the Athens cell failed to kill him after his trial."

"Oh wow. So Grant is really enemy number one?" Norris summarized.

"Yes, absolutely. And how are things over there?"  Apex asked suddenly, desperately.

"Fine, we're staying out of all that.  We just send you guys lots and lots of money, don't forget that!" Norris said assertively.

"How's that guy-friend?" Apex asked affectionately.

"We broke up."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that.  He wasn't good enough for you." Apex said confidently.  The leader of the most violent sect of the worshipers could be surprisingly warm, Norris mused.  "Is there anyway you could help us get to him?" Apex asked. Norris realized he was back to business, referring to Ambassador Grant. He is very well protected in his new prison." 

I have the missing piece. Norris could reveal the time and place of Grant's withdraws.  Someone was taking that money out.  And whoever it was was likely connected to Grant directly.  She was eager to help the Worshiper cause but had never directly supported the Newtopian cell's violent methods.  Whoever was taking the money out would likely be tortured and killed by Apex or his team.  The excitement of the investigation turned to sudden exhaustion.

"Norris, Norris..." Apex waited eagerly on the other line. 

Dell (Final)

Dell

"When was it 'up for grabs,'"

Mara.

The praise was overwhelming.  The whispers around Dell were the best.  There were 'thank yous'. And after the 'thank yous' were quiet whispers that rang victory again to Dell.  He heard someone whisper, "This guy-he saved us." No subtle whisper went unnoticed to Dell.  He smiled when greeted but simmered happily in the whispers he overheard.  Then he began thinking that conversations that were too far to overhear were also about him.  The delight of having the praising focus of the Worshipers was warming.  But the attention he received from Mara was confusing.
Mara quickly smiled at every praise Dell was given. But her face darkened just as fast.  Two days had passed since Dell distracted the gunman. In doing so he gave Oblivion, Mara's father, enough time to strike the gunman and disarm him.  But looking at Mara's face now hurt more than if the gunman would have opened fire on everyone in that small room.  He felt guilty for his fame by now and wanted to give- well what does she want? Dell wanted to give anything to make Mara happy.
"If I'm happy then you will be sad," Mara said.  Dell was speechless and threw his hands out as if helpless.
"Fine, that's fine. Anything," Dell said. They were walking just to walk. Eating was something they did before meditating.  They had eaten and then sat down to meditate. But the exercise had frustrated Mara who had gotten up from meditation only minutes into the session.
"I love this place, I really do," Mara began.  They passed a huge marble surface along the wall that covered the limestone like a long uneven birthmark.  They were alone. Mara ran her hand along the smooth surface. "I want it to be my father's forever."
"But not yours?"
"That's not what I mean.  I mean he's in charge. All of the Newtopian Worshipers look to him for spiritual guidance," Mara boasted indiscriminately.  "There are so many and they all are a part of my dad's team."
"It's his army it seems" Dell suggested.
Mara look up then smiled.  She stopped walking.  "That's sort of the problem. Dell, he wants more.  He want's all of Newtopia.  Since when was Newtopia the Worshipers'?" Mara asked rhetorically.  "When was it 'up for grabs?' My Newtopia is not meant to be fought over.  Does that mean I have to fight my father to stop it?"
"What can you do?" Dell said and turned to walk.  The implications of what Mara was saying made Dell uncomfortable.  It made Dell think of how Mara's face would darken so suddenly after dealing with the warm praise by the Worshipers. It made him think of his victory. And then the darkness. And then the glory. And then it was all dark. How far would she go?
"How far would you go to maintain your peace?" Dell said.  When she paused he shuttered.
"I-" she began but Dell asked another question:
"Would you be willing to kill you father for your peace?"
"No, of course not," Mara answered easily. But she looked at him.  She wants me to know, Dell thought. She was the patient and he was the doctor.  She knows she had a disease. She even knows which one it is. She just wants to hear it.  She wants to know that it has a name; then life wouldn't be so unbearable.  The pain might be treatable.  So she stared at him for a more thorough prognosis.
"No, but there was that man. The gunman," Dell thought out loud. "How did he get in? He got passed everyone," Dell said. "You know!"
Mara looked on and then began to cry.  She looked up through tears. Dell grabbed her arm, "Not now. You can cry later!"
He squeezed her arm as hard as he could until she screeched, "Stop!" through her sobbing. "I didn't ask to be part of my dad's scheme.  But he was and is going to kill thousands of innocent Newtopians for his war, his dream. I'm not the bad guy."
Dell threw his free hand up as if helpless. "Yes, you are." He released her arm and walked back the way they came.
"You're not even a Worshiper!" Mara shouted bitterly.  "You think you are but you're just lost- in your head."
"Maybe but I'd rather be lost than where you're standing." Dell said as he turned to her again
"We dreamed together in the forest. We ran in the wild and survived," Mara said plainly.  "I slept in the mud and the cold with you, for you and your family." She stopped and turned facing him. The stance made Dell turn away from her and press his back against the cool marble.  He pressed his hands against the marble surface and closed his eye.
"That is all I have to offer.  But the future is for both of us. I know what I have to live with.  Please don't go. I need you," Mara pleaded.
And I need you, Dell thought.  But who am I if I stay? Who am I if I leave?

Part VI: The Ending

Part six will conclude Newtopian Noise.  It will end with a final chapter of each character.  There will be a final and succinct end for plotline.  It will be awesome, it is not just a dream like on Lost, I promise.

Previous to this section some very important developments happened.
Seamus Grant returned to Newtopian, still in hand cuffs.  Although he is still in prison he has legal representation by one of the most well-known Newtopian Attorneys.

Nancy, finally in Crete discovers Grant is back in Newtopia.  This comes with mixed feelings for her.  She wanted to see him. But now that he is back in their native country he may have a chance of being freed.  The only way that he will have a chance is if Nancy goes first to Spain to retrieve valuable documents.  

Norris,  finds information that reveals large sums of money being moved into Grants account.  Is Grant being framed or part of a bigger conspiracy?

Find out in this final installment of Newtopian Noise!

Nancy (part 3 of 3)

Nancy

"Wherever you go the worshipers will follow,"

Sumeet

"Nancy?" Sumeet's voice sounded timid.
"Yes Sumeet! Are you ok?" Nancy asked holding the big, yellow phone to her ear.  The wedding music pierced the thin wooden walls.  Nancy had to hold the phone hard against her ear.
"Well yes, of course. I mean it's all painful but my mom, you know she was the one who let you guys in before, she's always bringing the best food around to take my mind off of it," his voice raised at the end.  He spoke to Nancy like she had been there all along.
"I'm sorry I left, Sumeet, I had to go," Nancy said from sudden guilt.
"I'm glad you came. I'm ok to die, usually.  It's just so slow- ok ok-" Sumeet sounded like he was trying to sit up, determined to spur the conversation in a different direction.  "I have been researching some facts, some things about Grant, the case- his case.  Someone from Newtopia, yea your home country, is pulling the strings."
"Wow. Where? who? What's going on? What are you talking about?" Nancy's head was spinning and she felt light headed.
Ador and Matin walked close to her suddenly.  Then a short buss zoomed passed them kicking dust up, over and around them.  Matin swore and Ador swatted at the dust in front of her face.  Nancy had heard noise on the other end of the line but it had been inaudble as the bus passed.
"What did you say?"
"I'm pulling together more information.  Please stop by again before you go to Spain. I know something that I think- Nancy," Sumeet paused.  The surrounding urban life seemed to pause with him.  Even the wedding music had stopped. "Nancy I have an American you need to talk to. She's hollowing things out.  She's figuring out something about Grant that will clear him. Wherever you go the worshipers will follow.  They know you stopped by here. They are not evil but they are screwing with your life and I think that's bullshit."
"I don't know what to say," Nancy said.
"Can we talk for a while? It's time to explain this whole plot thing."
"I don't really know," Nancy said looking around suddenly feeling paranoid. She heard a car in the distance.  The two teenagers on the stoop across the street seemed to have sobered up. And a sleek black bubble camera hung from above them.  The surveillance camera seemed blatant and inappropriate to the rustic, aging nature of the small town.
"I want to know everything," she said hungrily and the car was much closer now.  Ador and Matin walked near to her again to make room.  "This won't work right now," Nancy hung up the phone in a sudden panic.  The car deliberately slowed.  A tan man with dark, spiked hair peered over tilted sunglasses quite obviously out from the car.  Nancy felt naked and angry.  He stared at the three sweaty dirty teens and nodded as if to himself confirming a suspicion. They stared back.

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