Last week of November, 1999

In the last few weeks, Tom's training had increased intensively, working on his strength and endurance. Morning exercise with Lewis consisted of either skiing or climbing the snowy slopes of the Macdonald Range, or water sports, such as swimming in Lake Havasupai or white water rafting in the icy waters of the Oldman River. They were quite strenuous and enjoyed before breakfast.

For a short time after breakfast, Lewis had assigned training designed to improve Tom's reactions, hoping to generate responses even greater than what they used to be. His sensing powers had fully returned by now, as had his shielding abilities. Of course, the medication helped Tom heal those sensitised areas. Surprisingly, since he had started to recover from his trauma, he noticed his range of sensing had increased to almost 300 metres. Maybe that sensory deprivation had a beneficial effect. Perhaps, the by-product of his time in the tank had caused some stimulation of his empathic skills; similar to the way a blind person improves his hearing. Tom shrugged. He may never know the answer to that one.

Cross-country hiking while carrying a backpack almost half his own weight filled his afternoons. Sometimes these hikes took him across the U.S. Border into the Lewis Range of Mountains. Lewis occasionally expected him to spend the bitter nights in the open, camping in the mountains as part of his drill. This didn't bother Tom, as it allowed him some quiet time away from his mentor. He chuckled. 'The Lewis Range of Mountains. Only Lewis would think of settling near his namesake.'

Lewis also had helped Tom cultivate his masking discipline even further. He was determined that Tom would be the best he had ever trained at this new technique, but he needed more practice before it was strengthened fully. The Chameleon leader had vowed that by the time his protégé left the camp, he would be ready. Lewis felt very confident of that.

One morning, Tom discovered a new toy out on the parkland near a hay barn about 5 Km (~ 3 mi.) south of the main building. A most unusual kit waited for him, his mentor standing next to the box. Lewis had explained that it was a Japanese prototype Gen H4 backpack, ultra light Personal Helicopter, weighing about 2.8 kg. "This will take about 30-40 hours to put together," explained Lewis. "We'll assemble it together so that we can fully understand the workings and mechanism of the thing."

Tom let out a long low whistle. "Why? Will I need this for my next assignment? Am I replacing that new actor who plays 007?"

"All in good time, Tom" said Lewis as he sniggered. "All in good time. Let's get the machine up and running first. After that, you can learn to fly it in less than 3 hours." Lewis canted his head and gazed at Tom with a small grin, which for the older more staid Chameleon represented something as close to a smug Cheshire cat grin as anything could be.

Tom kicked the crate slightly as he walked around it. "Have you tested this thing out already?" he asked, knowing the reply would be cryptic.

"Tom," responded Lewis patiently, "do you seriously think I'd jeopardise the life of one of my best Chameleons by letting him attempt something which I had not previously tested?" Lewis allowed some malevolence to show in his false smile.

Tom choose not to answer. Instead, he bent over and pried open the crate. Pulling out pieces of the helicopter, he began organising the parts for assembly. For the next two days, both Chameleons constructed the helicopter, spending more time together than ever. The traumatic experiences they had endured in the recent past had greatly weakened them both, so this mutual down time gave them what they needed. Time for healing. Of course, Tom still didn't trust Lewis, but that was beside the point.

As they worked on their pet project, Lewis reminded Tom, "Our survival depends a great deal on our Dominant abilities. We cannot afford to let any chance slip by us which could maintain our advantage. So, it is vital to train both our bodies and our minds to our fullest capacity. These are our best weapons against the Homo sapiens. Their weaknesses in these areas are our opportunities for domination, and that's why we will win this war."

The younger man listened but remained taciturn. He shielded his emotions from Lewis, as he was unsure how he felt about these statements. This silence was acceptable for a teacher/pupil relationship, so Lewis wouldn't be surprised by it. By early evening the next day, the helicopter was ready at last.

Lewis stood next to the helicopter and examined the mast. Tom stayed back and admired their handiwork. "Ah, I've found it." Lewis showed Tom where the manufacturer had provided a ballistic parachute above the mast. Lewis stroked his new goatee as he stared at his protégé. "Tomorrow you can learn how to fly it," he stated. "For now, let's store it in the barn."

Tom settled himself in his usual armchair, anticipating the mineral water Lewis always gave him. But his mentor surprised him with a glass of Napoleon Brandy and took a similar glass over to his own chair. As each of them downed a mouthful in silence, Tom eyed Lewis curiously over the rim of his glass. With his sensing, he reached out, feeling for any hints in Lewis' emotional makeup that might explain the reason for the meeting. He could find none, since his mentor's shields were well in place. It appeared that Lewis wanted to prove to him that he was still the master and his mentor. Tom may have a very important role in the future of their species, but Lewis wanted his submission, as always.

"Tom, you have done extremely well in your training," praised Lewis, "considering the state you were in on your arrival here. I'm very pleased with your progress, but we do need to work on your masking. I want fresh impetus put on this until you have mastered the skill to your highest ability."

"You seem pretty sure that I've not reached that level yet," said Tom, rather irritably. This peevishness was unusual for him, but he was anxious to rest his fatigued body and lay down for some much needed sleep.

Lewis appeared rather surprised by Tom's snappish mood, but didn't remark on it. The surprise actually made it to his eyes, which were usually empty and cold. The older Chameleon let the matter go, because Tom's training was intense and he blamed it on the effect that training had on him following his ordeal at the hands of the Humans. "Yes, Tom, I know how hard you can drive yourself, particularly when the pressure is on. But my reports state you can still improve these skills, which you'll have to know instinctively if you want to live through the mission I have for you."

Tom knew better than to ask, 'What mission?' Experience had taught him that Lewis would not divulge any secrets until he was good and ready.

"You have met John Maxwell, National Science Advisor to the President of the United States?"

"Actually, no," said Tom shaking his head slightly. "I was to meet him with Walter Attwood, but then I was abducted by Alexandra Luthor."

"Right!" said Lewis, allowing some emotion past his cold screen. "That's all the better. He probably doesn't know who you are, but you know who he is!"

Tom was puzzled, but he kept quiet. He knew that Maxwell would certainly know of him, although they hadn't met, and most likely had seen pictures of him. He was much too close to Attwood to believe otherwise. 'It's unlike Lewis to have missed this. Perhaps, he wasn't fully recovered from his own ordeal and doesn't realise it yet.' He'd lost his opportunity to meet the man, but maybe it was for the best, if whatever plans Lewis had in mind pertained to him. He was still curious to know why Lewis mentioned Maxwell at all.

"I like to play with you, Tom. Surely, you know that by now."

'Damn it!' thought Tom, 'that man enjoys these cryptic games with me.'

Lewis sat straight in his chair, his deadpan eyes empty of soul. His low, somewhat raspy voice dropped the bombshell. "Maxwell needs to be liquidated. We need him out of the way now, before he and the President go to Ireland for the World Defence Council Meeting next June in Dublin. We need to have our own man in place and fully accepted before then."

Giving Tom a few seconds, he sipped a drop of brandy from his glass and continued, "You are aware that the Peace Faction of our species have infiltrated the Secret Service as well as the President's inner circle of advisors? While we have a few people in place in those organisations ourselves, it's very difficult with Mark Ward's group being able to sense our sleepers. They aren't masked from discovery by other Homo dominants." Tom nodded his head. "Now you see why it is vital that you achieve the highest level you can in masking."

Tom absorbed all this information and stored it away for perusal later. Lewis was a fountain of information today, and he'd better take advantage of it.

"President O'Brien and John Maxwell are due to attend a special concert by that young Welsh teenager, Charlotte Church, and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Protégé Philharmonic," explained Lewis. "She'll be performing at the Ballroom in the Navy Pier Cultural Centre in Chicago on the evening of December 2nd. It's a big open place on Lake Michigan's waterfront."

"And just how will I accomplish this assassination?" asked Tom, leaning forward slightly.

Lewis continued as though he hadn't heard his protégé's question. "The penthouse condominium on the 70^th floor of Lake Point Towers has been designated for your cover. You needn't worry about the concierge not recognising you. We already have our own crew in place in that respect. Your cover is Larry Morrison, who has Internet software business interests. However, you'll need to get into Lake Point Towers before the Secret Service seals off and secures the area. With both the NS Advisor and the President in attendance, security will be tight. If you tried appearing during the lockdown, you'd attract a lot of attention to yourself. The less drawn, the better. This building is just a 10-minute walk down a little access street to the Navy Pier Conference and Entertainment Centre. You're expected there on December 1^st for a two-day business seminar, so there shouldn't be problems on that score. It also means you've got a legitimate reason to be at the centre if you need to be in there. You will have about 48 hours in the area to figure out your strategy."

Lewis sipped his brandy again as Tom sat back in his chair, a little stunned. "I'll leave you to work out the finer details, but the plan is for you to leave on the morning of November 30^th. You'll cross over into Montana via the Lewis Mountain Range and head for Kalispell, where you're booked on the Delta Airlines flight to Chicago O'Hare Airport via Salt Lake City. Travel time by air is about 6 hours, so you'll want to allow at least seven to eight hours in case of delays, particularly at this time of the year for this leg of the journey. We don't want suspicions aroused, so I suggest that you be in and out of Chicago as speedily as possible."

Lewis arose and went to the bar cabinet, where he poured himself another brandy. He glided towards Tom with the bottle, intending to top up his glass, but Tom covered the rim of his glass with his hand. He expressed that he was more than happy with the one tipple. Lewis raised an eyebrow and gave Tom a look that implied that such occasions as this were rare and that he wouldn't be asked again. Lewis replaced the bottle of Napoleon Brandy back on the bar and returned to the comfort of his armchair before continuing.

Lewis swirled his brandy glass and took a swig, the warmth of his poison sliding along the back of his throat. The quick drink deepened his already raspy voice as he explained the travel arrangements for the journey. "As you can imagine, you'll have a very early start on Tuesday. Hmm, 5 a.m. sounds about right to achieve your mission. I've arranged for you to use the Gen H4 ultra light helicopter to get you over the more mountainous regions in Alberta and down to the U.S./Canadian border."

Tom lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed the last of his Napoleon. Lewis had outdone himself with this caper. It had all the hallmarks of a James Bond movie plot. "Good thing I learned to fly it. Otherwise, I might have had to set out tonight to be there in time. No doubt about it, it's a great time-saver, Lewis."

Lewis swallowed another dram and said, "I will arrange for the 'copter's transportation to a suitable location for you to pick up. Some of my operatives will hide two refuelling dumps in appropriate places with infrared homing devices attached to them. Your GPS will be equipped with a special receiver which can be used for locating the fuel."

Tom shook his head, derision entering his eyes. "Has Pierce Brosnan hung up his Bond persona already, or what? These gadgets sound more at home in a Bond movie."

Lewis stared at Tom. Ignoring the comment, he said, "You'll ditch the helicopter just before the US/Canadian border and continue on foot because we don't want to file a flight plan, which can be traced back here. As you know very well, we don't want anyone investigating your mission. Plus, it's too difficult flying accurately below radar level, and the noise from the 'copter may be detected by the instrumentation set up by the border guard for catching cross-border smuggling." Lewis chuckled slightly. "You'll be glad to hear that all those nights spent out in the open weren't wasted. Practice makes perfect."

Tom looked up in surprise, and asked, "What? No Bond-type gadget to override that small problem?"

Lewis interrupted his narrative on the assignment plans as he shook his head and responded without missing a beat. "Sorry, not this time. Besides, consider the extra physical effort as another stimulant required for your full recovery from Alexandra's tortures." Lewis' deadpan face brightened a minute degree as some small form of glee entered his eyes. "At least the next part will break the monotony of this assignment. You'll pick up a snowmobile at an arranged destination in Montana and at Flathead River, and you'll raft down the rapids through Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park all the way down to Kalispell, Montana."

The older Chameleon leaned forward as he continued relating the procedures he'd arranged. "By mid-afternoon, you'll be safely ensconced at Lake Point Towers. This will give you plenty of time for the afternoon opening of the conference on December 1^st." Lewis paused and sipped his brandy, wetting his lips with his tongue. "Plenty of time for leisure and a bit of sightseeing about the pier area, the evening of your arrival."

Tom stood and stretched his legs, anticipating the end of the meeting. "That gives me 2 days to perfect this masking problem before I depart. I presume you'll help me with this?"

"But of course, Tom. Isn't that what I'm here for? I am your mentor, after all. Don't worry, we'll concentrate on that aspect of your training until I'm satisfied that you've reached your zenith. I do know you're capable of more, so I would hardly push you otherwise. Now, would I?"

Av welcomed Tom with a small, sweet smile. "Hello, Tom. I've just finished for the night. Care for some company?"

Tom smiled back. "I'd like that, Av. Mind you, I do have an early start in the morning, but then again, that's been the norm for me since I came here." He opened the door for her and led her out of the room and away from the scents, which reminded him so much of his life over the last few months. His former prison had been full of the same odours that prevailed in a hospital. He would never again feel at ease in such an atmosphere.

"What would you like to do, Tom?" Av asked as they reached the main hallway of the big house.

Tom suddenly realised she'd accepted him for who he was and she relaxed in his company. "If it wasn't so cold, I'd suggest a walk. Would you like to take a drive, instead? Nowhere in particular, just to get away from here for a while?"

Av contemplated his idea and she answered softly, "I'm easy either way, walking or riding. Just remember, there are security cameras and listening devices all over the camp grounds, so if we walk, wherever we go, we'll never be alone."

Tom had forgotten that fact. "Okay. I suppose our best option is a drive."

Av nodded her head. They hurried over to the carport where Tom punched in a code allowing him access to a safe deposit where the keys to the various vehicles were kept. He chose the Nissan Xterra and they walked towards the vehicle. Tom unlocked Av's side, before he did the same for the driver's side and entered.

As he put the key in the ignition and started the jeep, Av suggested they visit Lake Havasupai. Tom knew it well from his morning swims there. "I don't think I've ever seen you up there at night," he said quietly.

Av caught his eye as she replied, "That's because I haven't been there at night. You have, though. I know you've been on some late night exercises recently. That must be tough, especially at this time of year."

Tom manoeuvred the car out of the grounds and off the compound before he answered, "Yes. It's fairly severe, particularly if I have to sleep out in the open."

Av looked shocked, "Are you sure you're up to it? I mean, after your excruciating experiences. We both know you're not fully healed yet."

Tom kept his eyes on the patch of the lane lit up by the car headlights. 'How perceptive of her', he reasoned. He would have to be extremely careful in her company. She was Chosen as well and he dared not trust her. It had taken him so long to trust Sloan, and she was Human and genuinely interested in him as a person, not as a monkey in a cage like the rest of her kind.

"I'm getting there," answered Tom slowly. "But then, I am a Chameleon, remember?" Tom hoped he sounded convincing. "Of course, it's been a while since I've been in the field even before my capture."

Av interrupted, "Tom, I know about your defection and your friendship with the Human woman, Dr. Parker. Lewis told me, when you first arrived at the sanctuary."

Tom wasn't surprised, but he still didn't expect her to broach the subject so soon. "Hmm, you're up to date then. Do you also know that my seizure and incarceration have shed a new light on my attitude towards Homo sapiens?" Tom parked the car and shut the car engine off.

As he reached to open his door, Av grabbed his arm, determined not to get sidetracked by their arrival at the lake. She resolved to find out for herself if Tom was truly back in the fold and no longer involved with those Human people at the Whitney Labs, and Dr. Sloan Parker, in particular.

"Let's just sit here a while," she said. "We can walk if you like afterwards."

Tom hesitated for a moment. "Sure, that's fine by me. I just needed a break from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the camp." Tom sighed and leaned back in the seat. "Since my period of captivity, I find it difficult to spend any length of time indoors, especially in a place like Nead an Iolair with its regimental routine. My experiences have taught me to appreciate my freedom. They've also instilled in me an underlying distrust of Homo sapiens.

"Don't forget, Av," said Tom, as he turned to face his young companion, "I was supposed to be part of the lab team and Alexandra Luthor was one of those in charge. She betrayed my trust when she seized me. After I woke in that sorry excuse for a cell, I desperately hoped that one of the others, especially Sloan, might find and release me. Imagine! They held me only an hour's drive away from Pasadena! Surely she could have located me sooner, before that witch inflicted so much damage." He shook his head as he tried to rid himself of the nightmares of his internment and unclenched his fists.

Tom averted his eyes as he continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "As time went on and I was still Alexandra's lab rat, I lost hope of ever being freed. I became disillusioned with the rest of the team and most of all with Sloan. I knew her resolve and figured if anyone could help me, she could. Well, she let me down, and at a time when I most needed her."

Av could see that Tom appeared genuinely distressed. She reached out in an effort to sense his melancholy, but his shields were deeply in place. He had no intention of allowing her, or anyone else, an opportunity to understand his state of mind. She took this as a form of armour against further pain and didn't pursue the matter. Instead, she took his hand, squeezing it gently, silently offering her support. Tom wanly gazed at her as he whispered, "Thank you."

Av patted his hand. "It's okay."

Tom squeezed her hand and acknowledged her friendship. "You were there when I needed someone, and I hope you'll remember that when I'm gone. I really appreciated you being there for me and I'm sure I partially owe the speed of my recuperation to you. Thank you, Av."

Av swallowed the lump in her throat. "So, when are you leaving?" she asked. "Do you think it will be soon?"

"I don't really know, but more than likely I'll be gone within the next few days," Tom lied convincingly. "I may have an assignment, and if so, I'll only have a matter of days' notice beforehand. So I just want to say goodbye now, just in case." Tom leaned over awkwardly and gently kissed her on the cheek. Pulling back, he locked eyes with her and whispered, "Thank you Av. I'll never forget your kindness."

As Tom sat down to a bowl of thick creamy porridge, he sensed his mentor's presence behind him. Without looking around, Tom declared, "Morning, Lewis."

Lewis sat down opposite Tom and said, "Good morning, Tom. I trust you slept well."

Tom wasn't feeling very sociable this bitterly-cold, dark morning. However, there was no point telling Lewis that. If he wanted to join Tom for breakfast, then that's what he'd do. He ate while Lewis made small talk. "I got a weather report for you as far south as Kalispell. I don't know if you noticed it's clear and frosty outside here at present. That holds true right down to the border, and it should stay that way until sunrise at 8.09 a.m.. That's good news for you and your Gen H4 'copter; no clouds. So you'll have clear skies all the way to the Montana border."

Lewis handed him the printout he'd brought with him. "There's little chance of a thaw before you get to Kalispell, so that means your snowmobile will be most effective as well. Now, the severe wind-chill will be a hazard, so I hope you are wearing all your thermals. Can't have you coming down with pneumonia or worse - hypothermia. I can just see it now in our next High Council Meeting," joked Lewis. "We have had a bit of nasty luck, I'm afraid. Our assassination attempt on John Maxwell failed, not because our Chameleon was caught or he didn't have the right equipment. He failed because he wasn't wearing his thermals and died of pneumonia or hypothermia as a result!'

No. That wouldn't do at all, Tom, would it?" Lewis quipped with a touch of wit.

Tom stopped, spoon halfway to his mouth, and retorted, "Very funny, Lewis. You can quit worrying on that score. It's not going to happen. I may have been rather unstable these past couple of months, but I've don't have a death-wish."

"Of course," muttered Tom.

"By the way, for obvious reasons I've arranged for your weapon and ancillary equipment to be available at the condo in Lake Point Towers."

"Okay, I know the drill." Tom had finished all he intended to eat and he pushed his plate aside. "You know, Lewis, it might seem like a while since I've done this sort of thing, but I haven't forgotten the procedure. Will anyone be meeting me in Chicago?"

The head Chameleon also finished his food and leaned back to survey his favourite pupil. "Some of our people will be there to observe, but are unlikely to approach you until the assignment is completed. If you need assistance during your getaway, they'll come forward. Don't worry, the people I assigned to this venture are trusted and loyal." Lewis caught Tom's eyes, and totally revealed the emotionless face of a remorseless killer. "However, if anything goes wrong, I warn you, your life will be in danger, from the Chameleons."

Tom paused. "Any more than it already is, by virtue of the scheme itself?" He locked gazes with his mentor as he stood up to leave. "The clock is ticking. I'm out of here." He didn't glance back, as he wasn't expecting a response from Lewis.

Lewis watched his treasured Chameleon leave and wondered yet again if he was truly happy to be amongst his own kind. Only time would tell. Besides, on the night of his admission, he'd been at Tom's bedside, and he saw so much delirium and pain in his errant protégé. It was the worst he'd ever observed in this whole war. He hoped never to observe it again. On his orders, Dr. Briglia had administered the drug cocktail, hoping it would ease Tom's distress and assist in altering his mental state. This had the hypnotic effect of making the younger Chameleon receptive to some new programming he had implanted as security. Of course, Tom was unaware of this, and the devious way in which his mentor had disguised the potion meant that Dr. Avila Briglia was also oblivious to the true nature of the drugs. Lewis stood up and caught up to Tom at the door.

"Well, you're on your own again, and once you depart, I won't see you till you achieve your objective." Scanning Tom's tight fit body, he said, "I'm sure you'll be your usual efficient self and we'll be seeing each other no matter what happens."

"Knowing you, Lewis, I doubt we'll ever be far from each other, particularly when I take my rightful place in our hierarchy." Tom vanished into the darkness as he spoke those final words.

The older Dominant stared after his protégé as his words echoed inside his head. 'Hmmm. Maybe our Tom has some sense after all.'

He had safely stashed the Gen H4 Personal Helicopter in a cave about 5 km (~3 miles) from the U.S. Border. The Napoleon Brandy in his hip flask - a parting gift from Lewis on their final night in the Library - held the bitter cold at bay and warmed his insides. He didn't need much, just a swig or two and he was on his way. After arriving at each destination, Tom had fully hidden his mode of transport as ordered. Lewis would see that some operative retrieved them. He finally made it to Kalispell in one piece with just a few minor bruises - nothing that wouldn't heal. Tom had discarded the mountain gear as planned and donned a business suit. He made his way to the airport carrying his black leather attaché case in his new guise as an e-commerce businessman.

Both flights had run according to schedule and Tom had practiced his T.M., relaxing himself enough so that sleep was possible on both journeys. During the flights, he'd resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to contact Walter and tell him about this mission that Lewis had assigned him. Of course, this was as a test of his loyalty and dedication to their species' fight. Tom's watchers would report all to Lewis, so he had to remain silent. 'But, do I want to do that? If I did tell Walter, I'd be traitor again for a second time.'

As he emerged from the Arrivals Area, he was aware of the seasonal atmosphere in the airport with Christmas carols playing over the sound system. Santa and his reindeers were competing for ceiling space with the snowmen and angels. The hubbub of excitement in the crowds around him also contributed to the celebratory air. It was too much. All the noise was such a culture shock compared to the peace and tranquillity of Nead an Iolair and the horror of his incarceration before that.

Tom had almost forgotten what real joy felt like. That day he had experienced humanity, as a Human. Sloan had shown him what that emotion was like. Briefly, he dwelt on the reason for his visit to the Windy City and he frowned. 'Why, in the midst of all this holiday mood, am I about to put a damper on things? Wait a minute, I'm not going through with this, so what am I worrying about... but... am I going through with this? If I don't, then I'm truly banished from my own kind. Is what I feel for Sloan enough to forsake my species? Of course it is... so why the confusion now? No! Not now! I'm a Homo dominant Chameleon and I have a mission to accomplish regardless of the time of year.' Just as quickly, Tom put all thoughts of this from his mind and set about getting to his destination. If he hurried, he might even grab a couple of hours relaxation before the business conference at the Navy Pier and indeed, get working on his strategy for the assassination of John Maxwell, by sightseeing for the optimum hiding location.

Nicholas, one of Lewis' assigned watchers, observed Tom's emergence from the Arrivals gate, from his seat in the waiting area. Lucky for him they'd never met, so his chances of discovery were slim. He followed his target as soon as Tom exited the airport building. He already had the vehicle details, courtesy of Lewis.

Tom checked his attaché case. 'Ah yes, the keys to my rental car - a metallic grey Nissan Altima.' Lewis had arranged this to save him time, checking in and signing papers at the rental desk. Tom recalled Lewis' excuse for this necessity. 'Less chance of being remembered at the airport and traced back here as well.' Lewis was certainly meticulous. He'd left nothing to chance. Even his parting words earlier that morning left Tom in no doubt of his future. Should he fail in his mission again, he would become prey for his own species to hunt down.

As he entered the building, the concierge tipped his cap in a sort of military salute to him. Tom had never seen him before, but maybe this guard gave everyone that welcome. He nodded his greeting.

Across the street in the shadows of a doorway, his pursuer hid. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Lewis had ordered Nicholas to contact him when his prodigal Chameleon had successfully completed the mission. If it failed, that was another story. Nicholas dared not think of that.

Tom entered the elevator and gazed at the view of the Navy Pier and Lake Michigan as he rode up 70 storeys. He found his door and unlocked it. Walking to the window, he continued staring. This building certainly gave him a panoramic view of the area for his assignment. 'Not bad, not bad,' he thought. Tom shook himself from his daydream and walked around, checking the condo for any intruders and listening-devices. He'd been temporarily distracted by the view, and if anyone had been waiting for him in ambush, he wouldn't be alive right now. But, he brightened a bit. 'After I inspect my equipment, I just might enjoy that exploring.'

He opened the attaché case and found the key for the safety deposit box together with a diagram showing where it they hid his equipment in the condo.

There was a cupboard underneath the sink in the bathroom. The middle shelf slid out and revealed a minute keyhole. Tom inserted his key and opened up a long deep safe. He lifted out the long black hard gun case and carried it into the bedroom.

Opening it on the bed, he identified each item. Tom grabbed the main casing of the gun, and peered down the barrel making sure no ammo was loaded. "Hmm, a dismantled sharpshooter Rifle - standard army issue sniper gun, small, compact, portable and light. Not bad." Tom set this aside and took out another component. Turning it over he identified the Rifle-Scope with adjustable electronic zoom and numerous magnifications. Exceptional optics made it difficult to miss with this scope.

Tom set that back into the case and pulled out a Hakko Image Intensified Day/Night Telescopic Gun Sight. He whistled. "Now I'm not limited to daylight assassinations." Carefully, he placed it next to the gun on the bed. Tom searched inside and touched the Surefire Armed Response Infrared Torch, one of the most powerful flashlights of its' size in the world. His eyes roved the case and he spotted the infrared night goggles. They would come in handy if there was some pursuit. Tom dug deeper and pulled out the newest, thinnest, super lightweight body armour made of Kevlar. It was ideal for wearing under his clothes and it was undetectable. Tom peered at the label and found it offered zero penetration up to a .44 magnum. It also deflected knife attacks. Finally, he opened a box of ammunition, satisfying himself they were the correct calibre.

Tom re-examined everything, gratified that he had all the necessary tools for his assignment and that they all were in working order. He replaced everything into the gun case and returned it to the secure hiding place. After he locked it, he placed the key in the attaché case.

Tom entered the washroom and showered. He felt refreshed as he changed into a pair of black denims, white tee shirt and black button neck sweater.

Walking into the living room, he enjoyed the floor to ceiling panorama of the condominium's windows. He contemplated what Sloan would think of this place for a weekend break. Then he realised yet again that their parting had not been the most ideal. He was still confused about those photos. 'It looked like her with Kyle, but it couldn't be, she wasn't the type." Yet, he knew anything could be manufactured these days. 'So, if it was Sloan in the photos, then why did she keep it secret? No! It's not her, I trust her. But does she trust me now?' The confusion gave him a headache. He knew he hadn't been very open with her after his immediate release from Alexandra Luthor, so its possible, she tried and he didn't give her a chance to explain. Then again, it could be a trick of Lewis to split them apart. Damn him!

Tom was so used to living life on the edge he wondered if he could ever settle into what Sloan called normal life. It was hard to imagine such a life in his current mental state of high alert. He was suspicious of everyone and everything and it was going to be some time before he could adjust to what a Human reckoned to be normality.

********************

2 hours later, approximately 

Nicholas followed Tom to the Navy Pier Centre, keeping close tabs on the roving Chameleon as ordered by Lewis. Luckily, he had mastered how to mask himself. He was well aware that Tom would never have let him come this close without challenging him, if he'd been conscious of his observer.

Lewis had told Nicholas that his only hope of hiding from his target was Tom's possible residual empathic problems relating to his time in captivity. Nicholas was thankful for that.

As he walked, Nicholas deliberated on the pros and cons of coexistence. He had debated this argument so many times in his head, since that fateful night that Lewis almost killed him, the night Attwood's team rescued Tom.

Nicholas concluded after a lot of contemplation that he was in a position to provide vital intelligence to the Humans in their fight against his own species, if he ever decided to work with, instead of against, them. However, Nicholas remained undecided. He was still unsure what he intended to do with the information as soon as Tom completed his task - if indeed Tom did go ahead with Lewis' orders.

The more Nicholas thought about it, the more uneasy he had become about their so-called struggle. Maybe Tom Daniels was right. Perhaps they could find a way to coexist with the Humans. But the various members of both species acting alone hadn't a hope of achieving anything. He now knew that Mariana obviously believed coexistence might be the best way. Wasn't she one of the main people in the team the Humans had engaged to rescue Tom? Well, he held the trump card here. Tom was unaware of Nicholas' assignment and he could afford to wait and see before finally making up his mind.

As he pondered on these ideas, Nicholas pulled the collar of his leather jacket up about his neck and shoved his hands deep into his pockets in an effort to deter the bitterly cold wind blowing up from the lake. Slivers of icy rain were now pelting down. They could turn to snow at any time. Nicholas was anxious to get warm again before he endured another vigil on Tom Daniels. 'He was clearly casing the area ahead of his mission. No matter what, I'll be Tom's shadow every time he leaves Lake Point Towers. But, it would be nice to get indoors for a spell before starting back to my apartment in the seedier part of town.'

********************

Tom visited the Family Pavilion with its' food court, shops, Imax Theatre as well as the Chicago Children's Museum. He walked through the beautiful Crystal Gardens - a one-acre indoor botanical oasis. This six-story, glass atrium structure featured plants from all over the world, creating a gorgeous park-like setting all year round. Dancing fountains and public seating areas provided a peaceful setting amidst the bustling Pier where visitors could relax. There were the Festival and Exhibition Halls, Grand Staircase and of course, the Grand Ballroom where the Charlotte Church Concert was performing on December 2^nd. The Grand Staircase on Dock Street led up to Pier Park, an outdoor playground right on the lakefront! Here, Chicago's icon, the 15-story Ferris wheel, could be found. It was an old-fashioned carousel, with a reflecting pond adjacent to it, and in the winter, it was transformed into an outdoor ice rink. The Skyline Stage was an outdoor performance pavilion holding 1,500 seats.

Tom catalogued everything. He saw lots of possibilities for his mission. Navy Pier's most visible attraction, the 107-year-old 150-foot Ferris wheel, offered unparalleled views of the skyline and lakefront. With 40 gondolas, seating six passengers each, the Ferris wheel could accommodate up to 240 passengers at a time. Located in Navy Pier Park, just west of the Skyline Stage, the Ferris wheel seemed the ideal place to set up shop and target his prey. At this time of year, the Ferris wheel didn't carry passengers, so it would be an excellent hiding place.

Tom decided it was time to go back and work out his plan of action.

Over the next 48 hours, Tom visited the Navy Pier Centre a number of times, familiarising himself with the layout and his escape route. He knew that President O'Brien, Maxwell and the rest of the entourage would arrive at the second entrance near the Ballroom at about 7:45 p.m. The concert was due to start at 8:00 p.m. and run approximately an hour and a half to two hours. Their departure between 9:45 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. via the Skyline Stage would convey them into his field of view. Lewis had fed him this information, as he was in constant communication with his undercover operative within the Secret Service.

Tom figured this was his most opportune time. There was a firework display planned from a barge anchored permanently in the lakeshore beside the Navy Pier. The display was to coincide with the arrival of the President and his entourage at the Skyline Stage. He now knew his strategy and was happy to relax a little for the first time since he arrived in the Illinois capital.

Tom found himself using T'ai Chi Ch'uan and stretched his cramped muscles. He had spent the past 3 hours in this crouched position and the martial arts helped him keep limber. As he peered down from his lonely post on the Ferris Wheel, he noticed the ground below was now covered with a light dusting of snow and there was a flurry of big fluffy snowflakes falling all around him. Since his arrival, he had overheard people talk of this unusual occurrence, which was wont to happen in this area. Lake Effect was the name he had heard someone call it.

Nicholas stood by the outdoor ice-rink, endeavouring to soak up the Christmas atmosphere that prevailed. Although the Ferris Wheel wasn't operational, it was illuminated to add to the vivacity of the place and the special concert that was taking place. His eyes darted here, there and everywhere seeking out Tom Daniels. He had tailed him into the Navy Pier area about 3 hours earlier, but suddenly he was gone. It was almost as if he'd disappeared into thin air. He had been so careful over the past 3 days, remaining inconspicuous, and now, when it mattered the most, he'd lost him.

There was only one thing to do. He, too, knew the presidential party's itinerary, so he waited as close as he could get to the vicinity, considering the security they focused about the place. If Daniels intended to carry out his task, he must also be in the area, but God only knew where. Nicholas would just have to bide his time and await the outcome. He noted the fireworks had been going off for the past few minutes, in anticipation of the President emerging from the Ballroom. Nicholas remained fully alert despite his relaxed appearance. Whatever else happened, he needed to find Tom Daniels. His own life depended on it.

Tom observed the tall stranger with the blue-black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail through his gunscope. He was relieved that he had located him in the crowd. While the man appeared nondescript, he had seen him almost every time he had come to the Navy Pier. His Chameleon instincts had kicked in almost immediately and he'd adeptly given his tail the slip amongst the throngs of people milling about the unique McDonald's the Future restaurant just a short distance from the wheel.

Tom hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long. It was beginning to feel chilly, and his meditation exercises would be difficult to sustain. He found his thoughts wandering from time to time between Sloan and Av. Both had been there for him when he needed someone.

Now he was back in a familiar role as a killer Chameleon preparing the way for the progression of his species to the next stage of domination. Sloan would not be pleased, he knew that much. She believed there was always another way. He recalled how she had stopped him from killing Lisa who was instrumental in her capture by Lewis. She'd never learn. There were times when killing was the only way, like now.

How else was Lewis to assume Maxwell's position? This had to be done. If he was going to be the future President, Lewis had to be in Maxwell's place. Only then, could his mentor lay the groundwork for getting his protégé into office. Once Tom was President, he could possibly change things in favour of coexistence.

He was beginning to wish he'd been born Human so that he might better understand Sloan's mentality. Right now, this seemed the best way forward for his plan of coexistence. What had he told Sloan that time that he'd wanted to use the reporter, Roger Young, as bait to draw out Lisa and Lewis? 'It is sometimes necessary to risk one in order to save many.' If he focused on that thought, Tom could carry out his mission.

Suddenly, Tom saw movement where he had his telescopic sight trained. They were coming. He saw the group, and walking next to the President was Maxwell. He followed him with the sight fixed on Maxwell's left temple. He now had the target locked and was grateful that this rifle didn't have one of those telltale, infrared target lasers. All about him fireworks exploded, deafening sounds to Tom, who was so close to their detonation.

He was in a state of heightened alert as he fingered the trigger. His mind was blank of all thoughts except the task in hand. But that didn't last long. Other thoughts intruded. Here, he held the life of John Maxwell in his hands. What to do? For the good of both species, we need the right people in there as our decisions makers. 'Am I that right person, to be the president? Can I influence both Homo dominants and Homo sapiens into peace? Do I really want to leave Sloan and return to my people?'

Tom pulled the trigger and the shot rang out, lost in the hail of fireworks erupting all over the heavens. He felt the recoil as he fired and saw his target drop to the ground. The sudden swell of security men, Secret Service agents, and anyone within close distance quickly surrounded the President while others tried attending the fallen man.

His duty completed, Tom quickly folded up his weapon and hurled it into Lake Michigan. The small splash it made was lost amid the commotion of the fireworks and the frantic men rushing to the aid of the two most important men in the United States.