One of A Kind This story is an alternate universe event--a one off, if you will... "Thanks for meeting me, Athena," said my sister in law, Beth, as we sat on the patio of Brewster's on a warm spring morning. The warm sun washed over our bodies as the warm coffee warmed us on the inside. I set down my large dark roast and looked into Beth's eyes. "So what's going on?" I asked. Beth laughed. "Can't I try to have a relationship with my sister in law?" I smiled. "Yes, and I appreciate the offer. But you usually call me if you need something, like babysitting." Beth bowed her head, a little red. "You know me so well. I know how busy you generally are, and I'm so glad you've been home for the spring. I just thought you'd want to catch up on some girl talk and so on." I got a feeling in my stomach that told me something wasn't right. "Are you and Alex...?" "No we're fine. Our anniversary is coming up soon. The Eighth in fact...Bronze." "Do you need my help picking out a gift?" I asked. "Sort of," she replied. "Alex is so special, and I wanted to get him something one of a kind." She bent over and pulled up her shoulder bag. Reaching deep, she pulled out a cloth wrapped package and handed it to me. I unwrapped it and oohed. It was an exquisite statue of a Greek warrior, and had the look of antiquity. "Wow," I said. "This is an amazing replica. Almost museum quality." "Replica?" asked Beth. The man I dealt with sold me a certificate of authenticity as well. You spotted that as a fake awfully quickly, Athena. Are you sure?" I nodded. "The armor is Athenian, but his helmet is Corinthian. And anyone can print a piece of paper. An excellent forgery, but it is still a forgery." Beth pouted. "I can't believe it," said Beth. "Does this sort of thing happen often?" "More often than you'd think. Even experts and museums get fooled from time to time." "Well, this is wrong! I paid almost ten thousand dollars for that. I need to call SOMEONE!" "The FBI usually handles art fraud," I said. "Queen City has a local office, I believe." Beth was already on her smart phone, looking up the number when I heard the report of a handgun. "GET DOWN BETH," I shouted, pushing my sister in law under the table. I followed the trail of the bullet back to a corner hotel a block away. "Call 911!" I shouted, running into the coffee shop to see if anyone was hurt. But it wasn't Athena Nikos who stepped out the back of the coffee house; White Owl now stood in her place. I flipped down the tops of my boots to my "buccaneer" look and took to the skies. I saw the open balcony where the shot had come from, moments earlier and saw a man kneeling over a body, a smoking gun in his hand. I flipped to a stop, landing with both feet on the man and knocking him to the floor. He sprawled lazily before me, and I caught his jacket by the collar, pulling him to his knees. "Strange hobby you have," I said. "Shooting at random people on the streets. Or are you working for the art forgers?" "Hold on White Owl!" he said, coming to his feet. He raised both hands high, then said, "I'm going for my wallet--I need to show you something." I nodded, watching intently for any sign of treachery. He produced a small leather case and flipped it open. I saw the FBI badge and id. "I'm Cole Taggart," he said. "I'm part of the operation tracking down the forgers." He pointed to the body on the floor. "That man was Porter Higgins. He's the gunman for the forgers. I followed him here and..." "Oh, I see! My mistake," I said. I studied Taggart. He was tall, well-built, but not overly muscled, a trace on the slim side with sandy brown hair and a confident stature. A twinkle in his eyes showed he was an adventurous sort, despite the serious nature of his work. He wore a conservative suit, and had a gentle smile. "The FBI sent some notices to the museum and the Queen City Police regarding art forgers being active in our area. I'm White Owl by the way and..." "Of course you are," he said, smiling. "You could be a big help to me. A very big asset, in fact." He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Higgins had a paper giving the location of the forger's warehouse. With your help, we could break the operation single handed!" Something about his attitude was reassuring. "All right," I said. "Let's go." As we headed to the door, Taggart stopped. "I'd better call the police, and let them know about the body," he said. He retreated to the bedroom, and I took a moment to text Beth that I'd gone back to the museum. "All set," he said. "Shall we?" He ushered me to the parking lot, where a dark black BMW waited. We drove across town to the riverfront. Queen City's riverfront isn't as big as some, but it still houses multiple warehouses and dockyards. Taggart pulled me aside and said, "This is just the distribution center for their fakes. We'll get to the manufacturing center through here. Someone there is bound to know something." "Do we have a warrant?" I asked. Taggart looked non plussed. "I ah...I do have one. It's in the glove box. I'll go get it, and you go ahead." I flew to the top of the warehouse and peered through an open skylight. Inside I could see five men carefully sorting boxes and loading them into a pair of tractor trailers. I wiggled through the skylight, and held myself on a ledge, waiting. Something was gnawing at my guts but I couldn't put a finger on it. I pulled a flash bang from my toolbelt and tossed it into the midst of the men at work. The small bomb exploded with a bright light and a loud, disorienting bang. The men jumped and I saw three of them reaching for guns. Diving down to the floor, I managed to kick one gun away, then knock that gunman down. To my left, I saw the front door swing open and Taggart jumped easily over the stairwell and onto the loading floor. He was racing toward me when one of the goons tackled him, sending Taggart sprawling on the concrete and his gun spinning out of his hand. Taggart rolled over and clipped his tackler on the jaw, sending the man to dreamland I turned to make sure he was all right, and as I did, the three men I was fighting melted away. "Are you all right?" I asked Taggart, but at that moment he pointed his gun at me. "White Owl! Look Out!" His gun barked and I heard a slug hit the fifth man. The man grabbed his chest, crying out, "You dirty double---" before he fell dead at my feet. I used my handcuffs to lock down the one remaining crook, while Taggart called the QCPD with my cell phone. He hung up the phone and handed it back to me. I smiled and took it graciously. "Cole, you...you saved my life back there. I want you to know how grateful I am to you." "Nonsense," said Cole. "You're very beautiful White Owl and...I mean you're very IMPORTANT White Owl. Nothing must happen to you. You're one of a kind--irreplaceable." He took my arms in his hands and said, "I don't believe I've ever met any woman as wonderful as you." I must have blushed; I felt my face burning. "I..that's very sweet of you Agent Taggart. But we still have to catch the art forgers." "I didn't think you went in for bloodshed, White Owl," said Sergeant O'Roarke as he entered the crime scene. A small cadre of SCU officers followed him. "Oh!" I said. "I..well...I was working with Agent Taggart," I said. "The guns came out, and he fired, saving my life." "Taggart?" said O'Roarke. "New in town?" "Arrived last week," said Taggart smoothly. "I haven't had time to produce all my bona fides the police yet. But I'll be in soon." He produced his passcase and O'Roarke nodded. "See that you do. You've got a lot of explaining to do. And I can't WAIT to see the after report on this. Oh, and White Owl? Captain Winslow sends his regards and knows you'll be in soon too." O'Roarke turned to supervise the crime scene. Taggart shepherded me back to his BMW, and I leaned on the hood while he explained the intricacies of the case. "The goons who ship the forgeries escaped. They're bound to let the artisans and the boss know we're on their trail." "Do we have any way to find them?" I asked. "I have a lead or two I can follow up on," he said. "How did you spot the fakes? If you'll share your intel with me, I'll tell you what the FBI knows." "Cole! I'm surprised at you," I said in shock. "That's privileged information, and we're forbidden from sharing it." He smiled easily, "Congratulations on passing my little test. Imagine a woman that can actually keep a secret." I was shocked and upset at this statement, but Cole put his arm around me again and said, "Hey, I was teasing. I'm sorry." "Apology accepted," I said with more conviction than I felt. "How can I help you?" I asked. "You can meet me for dinner tonight. With any luck, I'll have the information I need by then and we can complete this tonight." "I don't know..." I began. "Well, will you give me your phone number? Then I can call you the minute I have something." I shook my head. "Dinner it is," I said. "Where?" Seven pm rolled around and I landed near the Beaufort Grille. At one time it had been a thriving restaurant, but it got by mainly on memories these days. Still the food was good and I was looking forward to comparing notes with Taggart. I stepped inside nervously and looked around. There were only a few patrons and the maitre'd smiled when she saw me. "White Owl, right?" I nodded. "We have a private room set up in the back for you and Mr Taggart. If you'll come this way?" I followed her to a nice booth with a drawn curtain. I smiled and sat down, waiting for Taggart. But a few minutes later, the maitre'd returned with a telephone. "White Owl? A phone call for you. They say its urgent." I knoew it wasn't the police--they HAVE my cell phone. I picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?" "White Owl? Listen to me," Taggart's voice sounded raw through the connection. "Cole? What's wrong?" "No time. They've caught me. The Forgers! They are threatening to kill me. Don't do what they say..." The line went silent, then a new voice picked up. "Listen Owl," a gruff voice said. "We got Taggart, an' we'll kill him unless you come alone to the trestle on Lost River Road. You got fifteen minutes babe, or its curtains for Taggart." The line went dead. I glanced at the clock and realized I could make it to the rendezvous but only if I left immediately. I apologized to the Maitre' D, and left out the front, launching mysself skyward and heading north toward Zenith. I landed near the trestle and looked over the surroundings. The area was deserted and the nearest house was easily half a mile away. I checked my phone, and saw that I'd lost all my bars as well. But at that moment I felt someone grab me from behind. A heavy cloth laced with the thick smell of chloroform covered my mouth and nose and I felt my knees buckling as I succumbed to the narcotic fumes. In my semiconscious state I heard someone saying, " find her heavy duty handcuffs and lock her wrists together. And get this hood over her head...boss's orders." I came too in a vehicle of some sort, all bound with my cuffs and with a leather hood over my head. I had to strain a bit, but I could hear the men talking. The car lurched to a halt and I heard the gruff voice of the man who had told me to be at the trestle again. "Spud, you take White Owl an' carry her to the cellar." I felt strong arms lifting me under my shoulders and knees. "Well this ain't gonna be difficult," said a voice I assumed was Spud's. "In fact, this is a REAL pleasure." I felt us moving, an easy gait and I decided to cooperate in order to see where we were going. (And I didn't want to see Cole get hurt.) "Where are you taking me?" I finally ventured to ask. Spud laughed. "To one of the sweetest art galleries on earth," he said. "We turn out millions in fine artwork on a regular basis." We stopped and I felt myself being set on my feet. "I got White Owl boss," said Spud. "What do you want me to do with her?" "Take the hood off," came a digitally disguised voice. "And show her in." I blinked beneath my mask as the light invaded my eyes once more. In the glare of the worklights, I saw men pouring more castings of the bronze Greek Warrior. I saw another table where a team was making fake mosaics. All around I could sense both industry and deceit. In the far corner of the room though, was a large divider screen. "Take a good look around White Owl," came the digital voice. "I can tell you're impressed, and rightly so. In here we recreate history so well, even the experts are convinced.: "Where is Agent Taggart!" I asked angrily. "What have you done with him?" "That fool is safe and will remain so, IF you cooperate." said the mysterious voice. "Now tell me, how did you spot the fake? What gave it away? We need to know for...shall we say. quality control?" "I'll never tell you! The world of antiquities is already convoluted enough without you coming in to muddy the waters more!" The voice turned ominous. "Very well then, when Agent Taggart has an unfortunate accident that you witness and are unable to prevent, perhaps you'll reconsider. Spud! Take our guest outside and show her what I mean." "Cut the act, Taggart. I know you're the mastermind." Taggart walked out from behind the screen. "How did you know?" he asked. "What gave me away?" "Your lack of familiarity with FBI protocols, for starters," I said. "And the fact that the Special Agent in Charge had never heard of you. Phony artifacts is not your only line of business is it?" Taggart smiled. "Bravo White Owl! You have me figured out. The body you saw in the hotel room was the REAL Taggart. I had time to assume his identity before he caught up to me. Eliminating him was rather easy, don't you think?" "But why? Why are you doing all this?" "Tsk Tsk. You disappoint me, White Owl. I'm a collector. I collect all sorts of things. Art, cars, old books. But they have to be one of a kind. Just like you." "You don't mean that! I won't be a collector's piece!" "You already are!" And with that, Cole caught me with his hand and drew me close. He bent my head forward and I felt him lock a choker around my neck, then I felt a warm kiss. "Wh...what is that?" I asked in fright. "A simple device to keep you in control," said Taggart. "It sends out neural impulses, blocking your voluntary muscles. You can see and hear and taste and think...but move?" He held his head back and laughed. It was true, I couldn't feel my hands, or move my fingers! "Now White Owl, its time for you to go to sleep. And when you wake up, the only eyes that will ever see you again will be mine, and my friends." Epilogue The lights in the private museum flickered on. How long had I been here? How many days..weeks..months? I had no clue. I was still nude, save for the restraining collar. To my left, my costume hung on a velvet mannequin. I tried to punch through the glass of my enclosure but the collar still prohibited my moves. The man I know now as only the Collector, or perhaps as Master, came into the room and smiled. He visited several times a day, never saying much, but always appreciative. A foolproof plan, succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.