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"Storm is a nuisance. You lot were supposed to have gotten rid of him eight years ago. Where did you fuck up?" the man behind the desk asked, anger seething through every word. Burnished oak paneling surrounded the walls of lushly decorated office on the thirtieth floor. The expensive European furniture meshed perfectly with the elegant background; gilt-framed paintings hung on the oak wall; around the room, matching sofas were placed in a seemingly casual manner. By the windows, at the end of the spacious room, was a walnut-colored baronial desk, behind it, was seated the man who spoke. Surrounding the desk, were four other men. "But Senator, we made sure he was dead. No one can survive a continuous barrage of shots. We even heard the doctor confirm it before we left the hospital, dammit!" A tall, wiry man protested. "Apparently Storm can," the senator answered coldly. "And when he finds out that I was behind it, my head will not be worth a single cent. He's the kind that will want revenge, and he won't stop until he gets it." He paused, due to habit, for effect. "Where is Storm now?" A second man, this time, a tall, well-built Nordic answered in a deep baritone. "We don't know. He got away from us when we tried to kill him at the hospital." "What do you mean 'we'?" the third fellow, a short and balding one, shot back in a high, nasal voice. "You were the one who screwed up killing Storm. You messed it up! You didn't kill Storm, just a nurse and a security guard! You're supposed to be the professional killer." "Kats, stop that infernal whining! You make me sick! Michael, plaster Storm's ass with the slime from the press, make him responsible for the mess at the hospital, say something about police investigations have uncovered the identity of the killer, a patient Jon Doe, who was once known as Mason Storm," the senator decided. "And put a tail on everyone he knows, past and present. Check also the hospital staff, I don't want any loose ends this time." He spoke to the fourth man. "We now how to do our jobs Senator." Michael answered defensively. "Then show me for God's sake! I'm starring in that son-of-a-bitch's home-movies. If that crap gets out, I'm looking at thirty years!" "Sir, but what about O'Malley? And Storm's kids?" the first man spoke up. "There's still a copy of the tape with O'Malley. The boy and O'Malley are at the FBI academy. I can't find the girl. There's this boy playing the part of the bastard's twin, but I don't think that's Storm's daughter." "Why not?" asked the senator. "She could always be in disguise, especially if O'Malley is with her to help maintain the charade." "A girl cannot remain undetected for long, there will always be traces. Anyhow, that fake twin, who goes by the name of Alex Mason, was supposedly in bed with a girl. If it had been Storm's daughter, that task would have been impossible!" Everyone laughed. "All right, I'll take your word for it. Keep a close eye on that Alex Mason, he could be trouble. I want you to bring Storm's bastard son here. Storm is just crazy enough to come after me." He turned and spoke to the Nordic. "You know the drill Owens. Just take the boy and get out. You should have no trouble. Don't do anything to him. And don't do anything stupid again" "Right boss. When do you want him?" he asked. "As soon as possible. Within the next three days. Oh yeah, I want all of you to keep a look-out for the girl, she's got to be around somewhere. I don't like at all. How can a twenty-two year old girl just disappear like that? Get the tape from O'Malley. Don't let me down again. I want the whole matter to be settled before the elections, got it?" The four men nodded in unison. "Okay," finished the senator, "Get to work."
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