"We should not be here," the Brazilian veteran sighed, even though she knew that no one would dare question her as to her whereabouts.

"And usually we would not be," the Czech coach agreed. "But things in America have become very drastic. My young players tell me that this Richardson is gaining too much influence for their liking."

"It is becoming unsafe for many of my teammates, even the famous ones," the tall Russian added, shaking coal-black hair out of her dark eyes.

"Then perhaps we should plan for what would happen if he takes power?" the Australian suggested.

All the women, representatives of eleven basketball-playing countries, nodded in assent. "If we talk to our teammates, they can help us, and we can help some of them. I don't think we need to panic immediately, but we need to be ready in case something goes wrong. Americans are very strange people- they might decide to elect the son of a bitch. We should exchange contact information and make an emergency plan." The Canadian drew her colleagues together, and the unofficial agreement known as the Beijing Accord came into being.

Sharlene LaRue, a South Carolina native who had found the south of France more to her liking, was at home with some light reading on the use of statistical trends to predict the next scientific advance when the phone rang. "Allo?" she greeted whoever was on the other end.

"Allo yourself."

"Kimmy! This is a pleasant surprise!"

Kimara Brown sighed. "I wish it were more pleasant. I need you to run some odds for me, Stat."

"Anything for a teammate who went through 1-10," the statistics major swore.

"Give me the odds of a third-party candidate not only defeating the candidates of the two major parties without resorting to whatever Americans use to break ties in that odd system of theirs, but immediately becoming a cult figure. Tell me what his chances should have been, considering the strength of the two-party system in the last century, factoring in the abrupt shift in Washington State, and looking at the strength of the two major candidates."

Sharlene nodded, though she knew that Kimara couldn't see her. "That's been bothering you too, huh? Of course it would, you majored in political science. With what I have at the house, it'll take about a day to insert the data and run the equations. I haven't been keeping up with the news from home the way I should, but Jacques follows current events. My gut feeling says that it was pretty unlikely, but I'd have to back that up with the numbers. I'll call you back tomorrow night. I'd stay and gossip more, but I know the Canada-to-France rates have never been higher. Those damn Americans!"

"Yes, aren't they just horrible?" Kimara laughed.

"Excuse-moi, mon amie, je suis francaise. The government said so and everything."

"Sharlene, you're only French because of your jump shot, not because of your family."

"You wound me! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

"That's it. You start quoting Monty Python, I know there's no talking to you. Go be a geek, that should make you normal again. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Kimara hung up with a smile, but her smile quickly ran away. Knowing that her phone bill was really going to take a beating, she made a second call. "Lauren? It's Kim. Sharlene's running the numbers, but I think I have to invoke the Beijing Accord."

"About bloody time," the Australian said. "I'll call the others. You make what connections you can up there. See you on the other side, mate."

Kimara let that go, because she had a very bad feeling that no, she wouldn't see Lauren again, or if she did it would be somewhere else that could be described as "the other side". Her intuition had been screaming at her since February, telling her that things were not only as bad as she thought they were, they were actually worse. She didn't want to believe it, but her intuition had never failed her before...

The next afternoon, she came back from her daily run with a towel around her neck, a water bottle in her hand, and the white buds of an iPod in her ears. "Ah, lovely weather. So?"

"Nothing yet, love," her husband said, looking up from his newspaper. Just then the phone rang. He picked up. "Brown residence, Eddie speaking. Oh, hi, Sharlene. Yeah, hold on a sec."

Kimara took the receiver before Eddie could blink. "Well?"

"The odds are vanishingly small that Richardson could have been elected without some major factor that neither Jacques or I could find out anything about. The fact that this narrow-minded hatemonger holds such power and such sway over the strongest and most influential country in the world- well, as my daddy would've said, it scares the shit out of me. We've got friends that that man would like to see dead."

"I know, and considering where we play, it's not such a big leap of logic. North Carolina was a 75-25 split for Richardson, and most of the other quarter went to Bush. I'm tempted to stay home for good, but I think I have an idea that could help some of our colleagues. I'll need your support, though- nothing like bringing both stars of a team to the coach to make a suggestion, it works so much better than one star trying to make a point by herself."

"For our girls? I'd walk through fire. You can count on me for anything short of bloody murder; there's something about blood that does a number on my skin, so I'd have to back out if it came to that."

"If it comes to that, I'll have failed in my mission anyway. Seriously, Stat, this is dangerous business. I'd understand if you wanted to-"

"Pardon my French, but would you please shut the fuck up already? I said I would, and I don't renege on my word. When we get back to Charlotte next week, you can tell me what you have in mind, and then we can do whatever it is needs to be done to make it happen. I definitely don't think it's a good idea to do it over the phone- who knows who could be eavesdropping other than the eavesdroppers? I'll talk to you about this then. Oh, and Jacques wants to know when Eddie is going to send him the draft of that analysis he's doing on the Canadian Parliament."

"With the recent call for elections? Oh, it'll be another couple of months at least. Things were already going slowly, and it'll only get bogged down more when I'm not there to help with the research. Sorry." Kimara sounded truly penitent, echoing the hangdog look on Eddie's face. "Besides, Monsieur LaRue also owes us the numbers on what makes an elite goalie."

"Fair enough. I'm glad we're teammates, Kimara. It makes the endless delays in information exchange a little more tolerable."

Kimara laughed. "Sure, you just like me for my picks. I understand. Look, I've got to go. I'll see you in a few months. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too, Kimmy."

Spring in North Carolina was almost tolerable, if muggy. Kimara was used to it after nine years, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Sharlene was used to it, having grown up even further south, so she was in a slightly better humor than her Canadian teammate when they both arrived at the training facility. "Commercial flights still don't agree with you, huh?" the sharp-featured forward teased.

"I don't want to go into the horrors," Kimara replied, stretching out her entire six-four frame. "Let me just say that no one is ever aware that the person sitting behind them needs every inch of space they can get." She smoothed out her brown hair as much as she could, which was never very much.

"So now that we're both here..."

"That's one of the things I like about you, Sharlene, you always get right to the point. Look, we know the state of the nation under its current leadership. The next election might bring change, but from the news reports, I already don't hold out much hope for that. Even if it does happen, some people might not make it to 2012. If we can concoct a reason for people to get out of the country, we might be able to save them."

Sharlene nodded. "A sensible notion. But some people might not want to leave. I suspect one or two of our teammates voted for Richardson in the states of their registration. How would you deal with them?"

"Either they can come back on their own, or they'll find excuses not to come. You've noticed that since Richardson's election, foreign travel by Americans is down forty percent. This has become a more insular country already, and I don't doubt it'll get worse. It wouldn't surprise me if they stopped letting foreign players into the league, or the government started making it harder for foreign citizens to seek employment in the US in general."

"So what would make a good escape plan?"

"A team-building experience in the lovely wilds of Ontario, of course," Kimara said, flashing a grin. "Let's see what Coach has to say about it, though."

The two teammates, Charlotte's two stars, left the gym and walked down the hall to the coach's office. Sharlene knocked on the door. After a moment of rustling papers, the coach said, "Come on in."

Kimara and Sharlene entered. The coach looked up at them with a strained look on her face. "Well, hello, you two," she said, genuine warmth in her voice. It had been a surprise when the woman known as the biggest bust in league history had gotten the coaching job with her old team two years ago; people had been sure she needed more seasoning before she took on the top job at a professional level, but it had all worked out well. "What's got you all worked up so early in camp?"

"Coach, do you remember that little scuffle Denise and I had at the end of last season?" Kimara asked sheepishly.

"Hard to forget when my starting front line decides to turn halftime into Boxing After Dark," the coach replied dryly, causing Kimara to look extremely embarrassed.

"I was thinking, and Stat agrees with me, that we need to work especially hard on fostering team unity this year. I know I'm as much to blame for that mess last year as Denise was, so that's why I'm making the suggestion. I did some reading over the offseason about team-building exercises out in the wilderness- you know, those things about trust, teamwork, resourcefulness? A lot of businesses have been saying that they work, so I thought that perhaps we could try it."

"As I recall, that fight was more Denise's fault than your own, but it's good of you to take responsibility for your actions. And we do need to get the team concept drummed back into everyone's heads, you two included. I assume you wouldn't come here without a detailed plan already in place."

"There's a program going on in Ontario in the next couple of weeks."

The coach frowned. "I'm sure there's got to be something closer. Canada's a long way from here. Couldn't we design our own? North Carolina's got a bit of wilderness to it."

"I thought it might be a good idea to get out of the neighborhood for a while. If we're in the same place we were when things went so very bad, we might just stay in the same place mentally. Am I making sense?"

"Yeeeeeeah... but somehow I get the sense that your heart's not in it. Kimara, why do you want us to be in Ontario so badly? And how have you gotten Sharlene to agree to it? It seems rather strange."

Before Kimara could come up with a good excuse, Sharlene blurted out the truth. "The fact that Richardson got elected smells worse than my sneakers after double-OT. There's no way he could have won without some major interference on a level that America has never seen before. We're afraid, Coach, that's what it comes down to. We can go home, but not everyone has a home they can go back to. Some people maybe need to find themselves a place to go, you get what I'm sayin'? As for me, I near didn't come back, 'cause I'm sick of this town where they say to my face I'm nothin' more than some uppity high yaller hussy, jumped-up from Yankee larnin'. I can hardly stand this place anymore, but I come back."

"I can tell it gets you mad, your accent's slipping," the coach said with something that might have been mistaken for a smile. Whatever else Sharlene might have had to say was cut off when someone else knocked at the door. "Well, looks like we're having us a party to open camp. C'mon in."

Bev Sinclair, the fiery point guard who was the protégé of Philadelphia's favorite daughter, came in with a black eye and blood on her face from several cuts. "I hate this Goddamn piece of shit city!" she yelled, and as her mouth opened, the gap that had been one of her front teeth was revealed.

"What happened?" Kimara asked, barely beating Sharlene and the coach to the metaphorical punch.

"Coupla kids thought it'd be cute to stone me," Bev growled. "Lemme tell you, Jordan, if Coach didn't speak so highly of you, I'da asked to be traded this time last year."

Sharlene scrutinized the young player's face. "Jeez, some of these are still going. Why didn't you see the trainer?"

It took a moment for Bev to stop using her tongue to stanch the wound in her mouth and form an answer. "I did. Son of a bitch said none of it warranted his attention and could I please leave him to some important work? 'Course, when Mrs. McDonald comes in with a hangnail, he drops everything like it's an episode of ER or something."

"Denise saw you like this too?"

"Oh yeah. Last time I heard her laugh so hard at someone, SNL was running a sketch of the Ambiguously Gay Duo." Bev shoved some of the coach's papers aside so that she could see her reflection in the polished surface of the desk. "Aw, shit, I look like death warmed over. Trina's gonna have a shit fit when I get home."

"So, Coach, you were saying we could stay in the neighborhood for this team-building thing?" Kimara asked pointedly.

The coach sighed. "I knew you had an ulterior motive. I'm just glad it's not one that involves mocking your teammates."

"Oh, it does, just not the gay ones. I was thinking more along the lines of making shameless fun of Denise. And maybe Sameka if she manages to show up on time."

"Kimmy..." Sharlene's voice was unusually sharp, and for the first time Kimara understood what was at stake for her old friend. To her, this was all foreign and somewhat amusing, the way that the customs of another country might amuse any tourist. But for Sharlene, this hit home, because as much as she wanted to run away from it, this was home. She was from the South, from the Carolinas; she'd said as much when her accent slipped out of hiding and the old insults came to her mind. This was deadly serious, even more than it was to Kimara, because she knew what depths of hatred Southerners were able to sink to, while Kimara only knew what she had read in textbooks. "Coach, we need to get out of here. Already, if the trainer isn't patching a player up because she's a lesbian, we have issues. Sumbitch probably voted for Richardson. You know as well as I do that this team has never belonged here, and how uneasy a combination it's been. It wouldn't take much to stir up the old prejudices and rivalries, not just about lesbians, but about women and blacks. You remember what we think down here, how easy it is to say nigger and dyke, to conflate the two, to think that strong, dark women are dangerous and can't be trusted." There was something ugly and twisted in Sharlene's face, and the way she edged away from Bev and Kimara surprised all of them. A moment later she moved back, but that was enough.

The coach looked horribly torn. She hadn't wanted to believe that this was really and truly happening, even when Bev came in, but denying reality would get her nowhere. "All right. Kimara, you're right. We need to get out of here for a while, at least long enough for everyone to simmer down. How beautiful is Canada in the springtime?"

With a long sigh of relief, Kimara replied, "It's the most beautiful country in the world."

"I'm glad to hear it. You three are in charge of letting everyone know that we're having a team meeting tonight at seven, mandatory to the point that if you don't show up, you're cut. I'll get on the horn to Toronto and make arrangements for hotel rooms and a practice court." The coach shooed the three of them out of the office.

In the hallway, Kimara said, "She still doesn't quite realize, does she? She doesn't get that if it's not a one-way trip, we've failed."

"She doesn't want to know. She's so used to things that she can't see that it's falling apart and bound to get even worse. Maybe she thinks it doesn't affect her. She'll understand when we make our escape, if it isn't too late." Sharlene stopped in front of the locker room door, where she wrote a message on the whiteboard affixed there.

"We're doing the right thing, right?" Kimara asked quietly.

"You two are smart. If you think somethin' needs to be done, you're right. So what are you doin' that's got Kimmy freaked?" Bev asked.

Sharlene filled her in on the plan, and it garnered the point guard's approval. "Think I can bring Trina with me? She's been talkin' about goin' back to Philly for I dunno how long, so if there's a way to bring her, that would fuckin' kick ass."

Kimara and Sharlene exchanged a look. "It would make sense, because she's in as much danger as any of us. What about other partners?"

"Lynnette'd never forgive us if we forgot Liz, and then there's Kathy and Yvette. Nita's single, and Angie's girl is in LA. Moni's boyfriend is up in Springfield, and I don't think Denise and Sameka's husbands would come." Bev's eyes snapped back into focus. "So it's just three more, plenty of room even if we take a bus, right?"

"You never cease to amaze me, Beverlee," Sharlene laughed.

"Call me that again and I'll knock you into next week." Bev cocked a fist to prove her point, but put it down almost immediately with a short laugh. "Wanna go for lunch? I know this new deli just down the road, best pastrami I've ever had in this state and the counterman didn't even look at me funny when I ordered yesterday. I think we've got a friend here."

"Sounds good. They didn't serve breakfast on my flight, and I'm starving," Kimara said. Sharlene shrugged acquiescence, and Bev led the way to the deli. It was echoingly empty, strange for anyplace that served food at lunch hour.

"What the hell happened here? Someone pull the fire alarm or somethin'?" Bev asked the man behind the counter.

He shrugged his shoulders. "People seem to think that just because I'll serve anyone, they're too good for my place. Word seems to get around fast in this city, doesn't it? What would you ladies like?"

Kimara and Sharlene studied the listed meats and breads. Bev watched them carefully. "I'm havin' a pastrami on rye and a black cherry soda, the beanpole wants a roast beef on white with extra mustard and orange soda, and my scared-lookin' friend here is torn between the Three Cheese Special and the Virginia ham, so give her a ham and Provolone on rye with mineral water. And potato salad and a half-order of coleslaw for the table."

"Iced tea," Sharlene corrected faintly. Kimara stood silent, stunned at the accuracy of Bev's order.

Bev flashed a quick smile before hiding the hole in her teeth. "I look at your eyes. Not like either of you's a point guard who throws no-look shit. You stare at what you want, and after three years, I know you pretty well. Now ante up. I may be doin' my psychic act, but I sure as hell ain't payin' for you two." Each of them handed her a ten-dollar bill. She added her own part of the check and handed the money to the counterman. "Sure is a shame no one's goin' to a place as good as this."

"You're tellin' me?" he asked her as he worked at slicing the meats. "Four months I've been in this city and I already think I should pack up and go back to the Bronx. Sure, there's more competition, but at least people don't spit at me in the street or tell me to go back to my home country. Crazy Southerners. No offense to any of you."

"None taken. Bev's from Philly, Kimmy's Canadian, and I'm French."

"Then youse won't mind me saying that these are the most narrow-minded bunch of bigots I ever seen. An old Bronx guy like me, I may not always like people who wear funny clothes or talk with funny accents, but I can deal with 'em, I know the city needs 'em. Here, they don't care what color you are as long as you're white. I'm more tolerant than my old man- what he'd call you the two of you-" he pointed at Bev and Kimara- "I'd never let come out of my mouth, but even he'd be sick at what these people here think and say and do. They see deli, they see the kosher sign, they think Jew and start preaching at me about how Jesus died for my sins, never mind that my family comes from Avellino and I got the Catholic calendar taped up right back of the slicer. I tell you, I'm this close to wearing a yarmulke just to tick them off. Weren't for my cousin in town, I'd say fuck it and go home. What kind of potato salad, regular or German?"

"Regular," Sharlene said, doing her best to keep a poker face as the deli guy listed his grievances with the South. Even though she identified as French and allowed herself to think that she was French, her roots were here in the Carolinas; this mentality was the one she had grown up with, the one that still lived in her psyche. She knew that he wouldn't have said anything if she had admitted to being a local girl, and part of her wondered if that was why she hadn't mentioned her Carolina roots- she wanted to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

"All right, ladies, here's your lunch, and have a nice day." He put the three paper-wrapped bundles on a tray with their coleslaw and potato salad and slid it across the counter. Kimara picked it up and led Sharlene and Bev to a table.

"He seems like a nice enough guy," Kimara said through a mouthful of sandwich. "Shame he doesn't get any customers. This is really fantastic rye."

"We should order lunch for the trip from him," Sharlene agreed.

"If Jordan don't back down and decide we should stay," Bev grumbled. "What makes the two of you so sure she won't back out on your crazy scheme? She might think it can wait 'til after the season. I dunno 'bout you, but I don't like having shit thrown at me."

"She won't. She knows too much about it. You were the tipping point, Bev. She saw what they did to you, so she knows that people have gone crazy. I'll bet the same thing happened to Lynnette and Liz, only worse, because they've never been very subtle." Kimara scooped out a helping of potato salad.

"She never liked leaving home. Coach told me 'bout it at school, that she cried when she got traded." Bev shrugged. "Maybe you're right. You two are the brains of this operation, right?"

Years later, when the team's former players- at least, those who remained safe, sound, and sane- gathered together, they would all say the same thing: the team meeting at which the coach announced their departure for Toronto in a week's time had been an unmitigated disaster from beginning to end. Denise, in particular, thought it was a bad idea and told the coach that in no uncertain terms, crossing the line so much that even demure and devout Sameka had asked her to please be quiet. Lynnette, nursing an injured wrist and sporting a black eye, had agreed whole-heartedly, backed up by Angie and Nita. Denise had had something to say about that set of alliances, too, and the whole thing ended with the coach threatening termination of contract for anyone who protested the plan too loudly. Much to no one's surprise, Denise and Sameka both opted not to come; the same was said for about half the training camp invitees. Sharlene breathed a slight sigh of relief- the fewer people who opted not to come, the more girlfriends and/or partners they could fit, plus have room for last-minute pickups.

As the doors closed behind them, Bev could hear Denise leading some of the more religious players in a prayer. For what purpose, Bev would never be sure, because she wasn't about to ask and there was no way that Denise would lower herself to speak to Bev, but the Philly native could guess that there was no good will in it. That wasn't what she was concerned with, though. She had to find a way to break the news to Trina that they were moving to Canada.

She knew the ramifications of what they were doing better than Sharlene and Kimara, never mind that they were the ones who had designed the plan. She knew that this was it, that they were making a permanent move, that this wasn't just a strategic retreat until things cooled down, because things never would cool down. Bev knew from bad times, and what had happened to her and Lynnette presaged the beginning of very, very bad times. She wasn't going to let herself be caught unprepared, and that went double for her beloved Trina. She laid it out in terms that allowed no compromise and little wiggle room. "Sell the house for the first price you get, no matter how bad it is. Dump the furniture unless it's somethin' you can't make yourself give up- if we can't get money for it, Goodwill's gonna love it. Pack suitcases for a two-week vacation- put everything else in boxes, big and tight as you can get 'em, we'll ship 'em up to Eddie or Monique's friend tomorrow. Ditch anything you don't love at Goodwill. Start lookin' up the Canadian citizenship stuff. Anything outta town's a lost cause, if we're lucky we can get friends to send our stuff back. And we gotta do it all on the low so no one talks. If we're gonna do this, we might as well do it right. I told Lynnette to do the same thing, damned if she's gonna listen, though."

Trina had been with Bev long enough to trust her instincts; she was also enough of an inner-city girl to have her own instincts for trouble, and hers were going off just as much as Bev's were. She knew better than to doubt or question her partner's word. She started packing immediately, picking out what was essential, what they could get through customs, what they would have to ship, what they could give to friends without causing a stir, what they would have to lose to absolute strangers. Trina made the decisions almost unilaterally, except for Bev's basketball mementos; she knew that Bev wouldn't have told her to take care of matters if she didn't turst her to use her best judgement, and she knew Bev well enough to know what she would want to keep out of their joint possessions.

Across town, Lynnette and Liz were doing much the same, only not as smoothly, since Lynnette was sure that they'd be able to come back in a few months. But Liz, who was a British national and therefore somewhat detached from American society, knew that they would never return. She was the one making the hard decisions while Lynnette protested.

The week passed in a hazy blur, as those who were in on the plan made their preparations to leave Charlotte behind for good, while those who weren't completely in on it just planned for vacation and those who weren't intending to go ignored events magnificently. The coach made several cuts, letting the unlucky players know that they were still welcome to come on the trip to Canada, though it was a choice only one of them made. Finally the day came. Kimara was relieved to see that the coach had managed to use every bit of pull she had to get them access to the men's private jet; the extra legroom would do her some good, plus they would be slightly less at the mercy of the FAA and less at the whim of the airport and airlines.

Sharlene was third to arrive, coming in shortly after Kimara had joined their coach at the hangar. In addition to the bags that she had brought with her from France, she had a handtruck with several gigantic cooler bags parked upon it. "Lunch from Sal's," she explained, seeing Kimara and the coach's puzzled looks. "I told him it was a shame he wasn't getting any custom, so we would do our best to prove the neighborhood wrong. It seemed like the thing to do."

"A bit misleading, don't you think?"

"Kimmy, what was I going to tell him? Besides, you never know. Things might get better- we could come back in a year, maybe two, after the election. You never know with these folks- they might up and change their minds. Hell, we might up and change our minds."

Kimara sighed and wished that she had had the courage to invoke the Beijing Accord the previous season, right after Richardson's election. Sharlene had talked her out of it, saying that it was too soon to worry, that if she called upon the international alliance now, no one would take her seriously and no one would work on managing an escape. Then September had come, September and November, and two of their own were dead. Kimara hadn't known Tina Washington very well- different social circles, different age groups, different interests- but she had known and respected the woman now known as Lady Liberty. That had been the last straw as far as Kimara was concerned. Looking back, she wondered if sounding the alarm the previous March would have kept either of the now-legends from dying, or if Pavlina and Louise would have only been able to pick two others to make their international escape at the end of the season.

But it was too late for second-guessing, too late for regrets. They would do her no good here, clouding her mind when she most needed to think clearly and incisively. There was still time for things to go wrong. She would need all her faculties in case they encountered difficulties. Besides, there was nothing she could do about things that had been and gone, so what good was there in thinking about them?

"You two are crazy, but we're gonna make this happen, come hell or high water," the coach said, neatly interrupting Kimara's train of thought and giving her a shot of confidence that she sorely needed. "Got a brick through the window last night, and if the sumbitch had been ten seconds slower, he would've gotten it right back through his damn windshield. I need to get out of this town as much as the rest of y'all do."

Kimara and Sharlene exchanged a look. They hadn't expected such total agreement from their coach; even though she had worked as enthusiastically on the escape as they had, both of them had privately suspected what Bev had said aloud: that the coach would decide that she couldn't abandon the city that had been so good to her.

Lynnette and Bev arrived next, girlfriends and luggage in tow. Liz, a rangy blonde who had ended up in Charlotte on a low-level D-I scholarship and "stayed for the charming company", handed out cups of coffee. Trina, a stocky woman with ebony skin and a no-nonsense demenaor, hauled the luggage over to a loading cart with everyone else's gear. Lynnette raked her fingers through her light brown hair, which, as always, stood straight out from her head, then rubbed her eyes. Neither of these actions seemed to make her any more awake than she already was. "Y'all are crazy," she informed Kimara and Sharlene. Turning to Bev and Liz, she continued, "Y'all are really crazy."

"That's why you keep me around, love," Liz replied amiably, giving Lynnette a coffee-flavored kiss. "What time's this plane getting off the ground, then?"

"Fifteen minutes after the last arrival. Sharlene, would you show some common sense and stash the food in the plane already? Sittin' out here is gonna do it no good, and I don't fancy havin' food poisonin' in a strange country, if it's all the same to you." Under the coach's stern gaze, Sharlene handed over control of the handtruck to an employee, who wheeled it into the plane.

Gradually, the rest of the team drifted in, grumbling at the early hour- but not too loudly, lest the coach hear their complaints and use that as a reason to boot them from the team. Over half an hour's time, everyone arrived except for Angie. "What the hell's takin' her? We gotta get outta this place a'ready!" Bev grumbled.

"Give her time. She'll be here any minute. You know Angie- she hates to miss anything that might be interesting." Kimara's smile was tight and very artificial, and Bev recognized nerves when she saw them.

Angie arrived a couple of minutes later, and it was immediately apparent that something was amiss. The team's resident diva looked like she was still in her pajamas, her beautiful long hair was loose and unbrushed, and she had no luggage with her. "Angie, I'm not loaning you everything I own for the next two weeks, and you always said you'd rather commit hara-kiri than have to trust Nita's fashion sense," Kimara said with a joking note in her voice.

"I'm not coming. Cut me, blacklist me, sue me, whatever you have to do, but I have business to take care of here. I can't leave. I know I should, but I can't." Angie sounded determined enough that no one thought about stopping her, but Bev's gaze was so intense that Angie decided to explain herself. "I found out who turned Tina in to the Feds by claiming that she was sending part of her salary to terrorists abroad and housing some in Los Angeles. It was LaTonya Moore." Angie's head was bent, and several of her teammates poorly concealed their winces, because they knew what Angie was about to say for those who weren't in the loop. "It was the woman who is now my ex-girlfriend. I found out last night. She called me boasting about it. Told me to tell Bev and... our foreign players... to watch their backs in case she thought they were a threat. I have to make things right with her and with New York before I can play again, and if that means never, then so be it."

"You're nuts," Lynnette said in awe.

"You do know this is just a field trip, right?" Sharlene asked; even though she was lying through her teeth, even though she knew that they weren't coming back to fulfill their contracts with Charlotte and the league, she didn't want it to be revealed to anyone who wasn't already in on the plan. If Angie had figured it out and let it spill, it might be the end of their rescue mission, and the only people it would save would be those who could or would save themselves.

Angie gave her a sad smile. "They killed Tina in September. It's March now. I've already let this go unsettled too long. I don't have time for trips to Canada or whatever. This has to be settled before I can play. I feel it. Trust me, Shar. Trust me, Coach." She looked down at the coach, who seemed lost in thought. She was of an age with Tina Washington, and had often been heard to express agreement with her points.

"If you get done what you need to get done in time, come on up and join us," she finally said, clasping Angie's hand firmly. "I understand you got to do what you got to do, and I wouldn't be the one to stop you. If we don't see you... take care of yourself, all right?" She saw Angie off, then turned to the rest of the team and asked, "What's the matter? Everyone's here who's gonna be here, so get your asses onto that plane already, we're late enough as it is."

The coach's mien indicated that she would brook no backtalk. Meekly, the players filed onto the plane, trailed by various team staff and the quartet of significant others who had come along for the ride. The coach was the last to board. As the hatch sealed behind her, she took an involuntary deep breath. This was it- no backing out, no turning around, no changing their path. For all their sakes, she hoped that Sharlene and Kimara hadn't gone off the deep end in their assessment of the state of America. This flight was certain to end all their careers, even if they were to return to the country; such abrupt and cavalier departure had its consequences. Yet as she looked at Liz and Lynnette curled up together in one window seat, and Bev and Trina discussing the wedding they would have once they were settled in Canada, she knew that she had made the right choice.

Kimara leaned back, thrilled to be going home. She knew in her bones that they were doing what was necessary; the numbers had proven her out. Something was dangerously wrong in the United States, and it behooved them not to be there for it. Instead of lying down and taking whatever the changed populace had in mind for them, they were getting away from it like sensible people. If anything, the flaw in the plan lay in not putting it into action sooner; it would have been more effective in the 2009 season, when international players had been more prevalent in the league. 2010 was a World Championships year, which was a convenient excuse for foreign players to stay home. The thought crossed her mind that this was the end of their careers, but she had been planning on retiring in the next few years anyway. What did it matter if the end came now or later? She was away from it all now, so she could kick back and relax, secure in the certain knowledge that she had done the right thing.

Sharlene took a deep breath as the plane lifted off. This was it then. This was final. Once upon a time, this land had been her home, a place where she felt the most secure because she knew it like the back of her hand. Even though she had changed and it had changed, and they were somewhat opposed to one another, part of her still felt the pull of her native soil. Part of her wished that they were crazy, that they were overreacting to trends and statistical anomalies that had more logical explanations, but a small part of her hoped that they were right, because then they wouldn't have made this sacrifice for nothing.

As the world dropped away beneath them, nothing was certain except uncertainty.