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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Chapter 1 - Eden's Oasis

"Swallow it"

"No."

"Go on, it won't kill you."

"No way."

"Why not?"

"It's icky. My mother told me never to swallow."

"She probably told you never to put it in your mouth in the first place."

"No, she was fairly liberal about that, she wasn't going to pretend that she could control what I did when I was out of her sight."

"It's digestible, you know. I checked on the Internet."

"It makes me gag."

"What are you going to do then? I can't stop now and I don't want it all over the place."

"I know, pass me a tissue."

Silver deftly pulled a facial tissue from its little plastic package with one paw and handed it to Vikki. She brought the tissue to her mouth and spit the wad of sugar-free chewing gum into it. She folded the tissue up and put it in the empty cup holder on her side of the Porsche 911.

"Now that's icky. Why didn't you just spit it out the window?" He asked

"And have it splatter all over some poor slob's windshield? I'll get rid of it when we get off the interstate." She said with a tone of authority.

Silver knew better than to argue any more. Apparently, the genetic material that made people decisive, determined and just plain pig-headed was produced during the later months of pregnancy, because Vikki Beausoleil was awash in it lately. Driving automatically down the I-95 as they made their way through southern Maine, he glanced down at her protruding belly, made even more obvious by the seatbelt outlining it.

He noticed that the driver of the car that they were passing was smiling at her. From that angle, he would not be able to see that she was pregnant, only that there was a tall, young, gorgeous vixen with vibrant red fur riding beside an older, rough-looking, silver-haired fox. Not an uncommon sight in vacationland where the well-to-do came to show off their trophy mates or companions. Several times already young male parking attendants had pushed and shoved their chums aside for the privilege of opening the door for her, only to step back in shock when her belly appeared. Those that recovered gracefully received a better tip, but never the amount they were expecting.

No one, not the valets, the waiters or their fellow tourists, suspected that they were anything but a wealthy couple on vacation; the owners of a mid-sized business perhaps. Silver played along, pretending to be the owner of a landscaping business back in Canada, a subject he had some firsthand knowledge of. Silver and Vikki looked good, dressed well and had all the trappings of wealth, but it was all a facade. Everything came courtesy of the Academy. The car was the seized property of a convicted mafia leader, the clothes came from the Academy wardrobe, Silver's papers from the Academy forger. Their identities as senior and junior agents in FOX were well protected, even though they really were on vacation. Silver was using a cover name, had left his Glock-17 9mm behind and the only one in America that knew who they really were was the CIA liaison officer, codenamed Red Fox.

Vikki was in her eighth month of pregnancy now. Spending the winter with the 'Incredible Expanding Vixen', as she had jokingly taken to calling herself, had been fun; attending Lamaze classes, finding her an apartment, decorating the nursery, lobbying for a daycare centre at the Academy. Feeling the baby move, seeing her acquire that glow that makes pregnant females so desirable, making love in new positions as her belly swelled; all that had been wonderful. Neither of them had expected that it would begin to get tiresome, not back then, but as spring turned to early summer and the temperature began to soar, her level of patience had shrunk proportionally. More and more often Silver found himself biting his tongue least he say something that would set her off again.

The term 'Incredible Expanding Vixen' became the first forbidden subject. The next was the way she looked in maternity clothes, which included the cost of maternity clothes and the need to buy more maternity clothes because of the unseasonably warm temperatures. A month ago she was making fun of the way she walked, doing a fairly good impression of Charlie Chaplain. Yesterday when he had smiled and told her that she still had that cute waddle and she almost bit his head off.

The list of forbidden topics was becoming longer. The fact that he felt fine was one of the worst. His lack of backaches, headaches, indigestion, sore ankles, saggy breasts and a thousand other ailments was due to him not being pregnant. If he had a headache he didn't dare mention it, least she begin to rattle off all the other symptoms he didn't have at the moment. The most recent addition to the list was the fact that he did not have to go to the bathroom every thirty minutes.

Because of this latest development, they were driving on the interstate, rather than the coastal highway, where gas stations with clean washrooms could be found at regular intervals. This meant that they would miss the scenery that they had come to see and the opportunity to get delightfully lost. That made her feel bad and since it was her bladder she blamed herself and that made her feel worse; until she remembered that the only reason that it was not his bladder was because of the unfairness and inequity of the mammalian design. He had done his part on that bench in the gazebo that night in autumn, so how come he didn't have to suffer? Somehow, he felt that he was.

Silver had suggested the vacation to try to recapture those intimate early days. With her due date approaching she was on light duties, doing analytical work and studying background files. The work was not vital, and since Silver had nothing important coming up he had proposed a joint vacation. Unwilling to fly so near to term and wanting to get away to somewhere neither of them had been, they decided to drive down to southern Maine; to visit Old Orchard Beach, Kennebunk and Ogunquit.

They had looked forward to the trip but the enthusiasm soon wore off. The drive through the Adirondacks was boring compared to the everyday sights of west Quebec and the Ottawa valley, and there were no washrooms. By the fourth trip into the woods clutching a wad of tissues, Vikki was ready to kill. By the time they arrived at the guest house Silver was sure that the one she wanted to kill most was he.

Old Orchard Beach helped to set thing right. They took long walks each dawn and dusk along the six-mile beach. During the day, they visited local attractions, played mini-golf and sat for hours in the sun on the soft sand, but Silver was bored senseless. His idea of a beach included water that you could snorkel in without having to wear a heated dry suit, and he longed to be kayaking, climbing or doing any of a thousand other things that her condition would not permit.

After having explored everything from highway one to the ocean between Saco and Pine Point, Vikki had decided that they should drive down to visit the tourist towns of Kennebunk, Ogunquit and York Harbour. She wanted to shop for some art, eat in an expensive teahouse and see the mansions along the coast. Unfortunately, early season tourists, mid-season construction and an unanticipated street festival had all conspired to strand them in Saco for two bathroom breaks. Seeing a sign for the interstate, Silver had switched to the ninety-five, promising to follow the coast back from York Harbour.

They stopped to eat at a café' overlooking the harbour that York harbour was named after. Lunch went well, although Silver bit his tongue harder than he had bitten the gluten-free crumpets with the tofu spread when he saw the bill. At least they had a bathroom that smelled of something other than those mothball toilet disinfectant cakes, and that seemed to please Vikki. Now they were heading back north on highway one, Vikki pointing out the nicer buildings and views while Silver kept a mental note of every place they passed that had a public washroom, just in case.

"Oh look," Vikki gasped, "Eden's Oasis!"

Silver took a quick cursory glance, expecting to see another seaside mansion with a cute name and more trim than the average Christmas tree. Instead, he was surprised to see a fairly modern and austere building. The discrete sign by the entrance did indeed say 'Eden's Oasis', and the lack of any other detail told Silver that it was likely to be an exclusive establishment. The fact that Vikki seemed to recognize it told him that it was not likely to be a brothel or casino. Her paw tugging on his sleeve as she looked back over her shoulder at the building told him that he was about to put out a lot of money for the sake of their relationship.

Silver turned the car around in the next lane and headed back to 'Eden's Oasis'.

"What is this place anyway?" He asked as they pulled up in front of the entrance. "It looks pretty exclusive."

"It's the latest in Celebrity Spas; I saw it on Okra. They have branches in all the chic spots"

"Maine is chic?"

Silver recalled that Okra was a female talk show host of varying size that Vikki liked to watch. She seemed to have taken control of the public's diet, exercise, reading and leisure habits because even Silver was familiar with the term 'as seen on Okra'. Frankly, he did not understand why someone without money would worry about what the billionaire personality ate, drank or slept on; and if he had her kind money, he would make up his own mind on what to buy.

"You probably have to be a member to get inside, see ... no handle on the door, just a key slot." Silver pointed as they got out of the car.

"According to Okra they do not restrict their clientele to the rich, powerful and well-known. They have been known to admit casual applicants, although no one knows what their selection criteria are." Vikki was frowning now, holding her belly protectively, considering the embarrassment of being rejected over the shame of chickening out.

Seeing her uncertainty and understanding the reason for it, Silver decided to act, thereby shifting the responsibility for rejection onto him.

"We're here now, let's see if they have a washroom we can use."

* * * * * * * *

Inside the building, in a spotless room below ground level, two creatures watched a bank of video monitors. Except for the glow from the screens, the room was dark, and one would have been able to see the occupants only by the reflection of the flickering images in their eyes. The large central screen was tuned to the camera that covered the front entrance. A paw covered in pale yellow fur reached out of the shadows and adjusted the aim and zoom until the pregnant fox standing beside the automobile filled the screen.

"Look at her," the yellow-furred one said, with evident delight, "she is perfect."

A white paw entered the light and adjusted the focus. "She's okay. Why is she wearing opera gloves?"

"I don't know, sensitive skin? And she is not just 'okay'. See how tall she is, yet perfectly in proportion? Each limb the perfect length. The torso the perfect width and depth. So tall and elegant, naturally slim without being thin or boyish. And how vibrant her fur is!"

"So she's good looking. Lots of good looking people come here."

"Lots of people leave here looking good, or at least better." The yellow paw made the camera zoom in more and scan her up and down. "It is not just her physical proportions, however, that make her special. Look at the way she stands, so straight and sure, even with the protruding belly. Head up and eyes sharp, shoulders back, tail up, feet slightly apart. Ah, ah, watch her move, see the way she walks? The models on the runway should walk like that, could walk like that, if they had her DNA ... and I can give it to them. I must have it."

"Okay, she's special; but she's pregnant." The white paw zoomed the camera out until both the vixen and her companion were in view, standing by the entrance door. "Your 'cleansing process' would make her miscarry, and then where would you be? Unwanted attention, investigations, your serums seized."

"Even better that she's pregnant; her amniotic fluids are a veritable fountain of DNA. We won't stop at a sample, we'll take the whole fox." The yellow paw pressed button, held it down. "Reception? Invite our guests in. Give them whatever they want." The button was released.

The white paw brought the camera to bear on the silver fox, who had turned away from the door and was striding toward the car. "What about her mate?"

"He is a common enough type; just kill him."

* * * * * * * *

Silver looked for a doorbell button but didn't find one. He examined the card slot but found nothing to signal inside, short of inserting a pass card. He knocked on the solid metal door and waited for thirty seconds. He knocked again, harder. The third time he pounded on the door with the base of his paw. The door didn't even vibrate and he could not tell if any sound had penetrated.

He stepped back and surveyed the building. Vikki, growing impatient waiting by the car, walked over to join him near the door. At least she didn't try knocking also, he thought. As she walked over, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and his head whipped around. A camera. Not so unusual for places like this, but unless it was motion activated, which was unlikely, it showed that someone was inside. He tried another approach.

"Hello?" he said in a loud voice, aiming in the general direction of the door. "Is there anyone there?" There was no response.

"Hello!" Vikki called even louder. "We're not members, but I wonder if I could just come in and look around? I'm thinking of joining, actually." She gazed around but nothing changed.

Silver turned away from the door. Snobs, he thought. "Come on Vikki," he called back, "looks like they're closed."

"On the contrary sir," a silky smooth female voice came out of nowhere, "we welcome you to Eden's Oasis." There was a loud 'click' and the door swung outward. "Please, come in."

Silver looked at Vikki. Vikki shrugged. "It's endorsed by Okra. What would it hurt to look?" She turned and entered before he could say otherwise.

Silver followed her into the dim interior. The level of lighting increased as they made their way down a short hallway that ended in a large reception room. Comfortable chairs and couches were arranged about the room. Tanks of tropical fish were set into the walls. At the end opposite the hallway, there was a tall reception desk in some kind of yellow hardwood. An image of a monkey holding a vial that sparkled was carved into it.

"That's the yellow monkey." Vikki whispered into his ear. "He's the Brazilian doctor that developed a range of holistic treatments to revitalize the body, reinvigorate the mind and rejuvenate both. Okra swears by him."

"I'd swear at him if I saw the bill for all this." Silver had caught the unmistakable glint of real crystal from the chandelier that illuminated the room.

Behind the desk, a female Siamese cat was smiling at them patiently. Her paws, forearms and face were dark brown; her shoulders and chest were tawny. She wore a floral wrap-around that emphasized her bust and set off her green eyes. Her tail waved behind her in slow loops. "Doctor Dourado prefers to be called Miko, by his friends." She picked up a fountain pen and held it poised above a reservation book. "And how shall I register you ... Madame?"

Vikki approached the desk and gave her real name, as junior agent she could still use it when she was not working. The cat turned to Silver. "And will the gentleman be joining us today?"

Silver looked doubtful. "Oh come on." Vikki urged. "Have a massage. It will relax you." Silver didn't move. "If you do, I'll let you go visit the climbing wall at the boardwalk instead of joining me on the beach tomorrow. Yes," she said when she caught the quick flash of guilt, "I know you've been pretending."

"I don't know about this Holistic Medicine stuff." Silver complained. "In my experience, medicine that doesn't hurt its not good for you."

"The Doctor's approach to health and fitness goes beyond the conventional treatment of obvious symptoms and conditions." The feline put in. "Good health incorporates emotional and spiritual well being, rather than just the lack of pain or disease. We use many methods here, so I'm sure that you will find one to your liking. How about a Sea Salt Scrub?"

"Not Likely."

"Back and chest wax?"

"No way."

"Aroma Therapy, with a Macadamia Mask?"

"That's nuts."

"Heated stone therapy? Chinese fire cupping? Moxibustion?" Seeing his puzzled expression, she explained the techniques.

"You want to bury me in hot rocks, suck my flesh away with fiery glass jars and put burning herbs all over me? Been there, done that." He found that he was fingering his chest scars through the material of his shirt and he dropped his paw to his side.

The cat's calm facade was starting to crack. "A traditional massage, perhaps?"

"Do I have to take my shirt off?"

"Do you ...?" Now she was flustered, but she recovered quickly. "The attendant will cover whatever area she is not working on with a towel." The cat put a paw to her ear, cocked her head as if she was listening to some inner voice. An ear bud communicator, Silver realized.

"Did I mention that your treatments today are free of charge? A special introductory offer."

"All right," Silver conceded, "I'll have a massage."

"For madam," the cat turned to Vikki, all smiles again, "I would recommend a chair massage. Pedicure, manicure and facial are included."

"Oh God, yes!"

"Right this way then." She indicated the wall beside them with her paw; it swung open silently. "Ladies to the right, gentlemen to the left please."

* * * * * * * *

Vikki entered the massage room tentatively. She had disrobed in the female's changing area and donned the thick, comfortable, luxurious, full-length robe provided. After a fleeting thought as to whether she could sneak it out afterwards she suddenly remembered her artificial paw.

She had lost her left paw on her first mission as a FOX agent and now wore a robotic paw from mid-forearm onwards. Should she leave it on or take it off? If she left it on, should she keep it covered with the opera glove she habitually wore, or leave it exposed? This one was a close match for her real right paw, but it was still obviously artificial, and the thin straps that held it on were black, a sharp contrast to her vivid red fur. She decided to leave it in the locker with her clothes.

The next question was whether to roll the sleeves of the robe up and expose the blunt end of her arm, or leave them down to cover it. She supposed that if the attendant was going to be shocked by the sight that it was better to know right away rather than have her discover it unexpectedly half way through the massage; so she went sleeves up.

She opened the connecting door to the room she had been assigned to and entered, expecting the attendant to be waiting and anticipating the reaction; but the room was empty. She looked around, and forgot about her missing paw and the anxiety she was felling a moment ago.

The room was magnificent. The floor was made of bamboo and stone laid in a checker-board pattern, producing alternating sensations of coolness and warmth on her feet. The wall on the left had a glass-enclosed gas fireplace that sent warm air wafting her way. The wall on the right was a waterfall that fed a natural stone pool full of swirling clear blue water in the middle. A large massage chair was placed just beyond the pool. The smell of sweet herbs and oils filled the room, carried by the air currents created by the warm air meeting the cooler water.

She stood there drinking it all in, letting the Feng-Shui and the smells relax her, as they were meant to. She heard a slight sound and her ears swivelled forward, instantly alert again. A door built into the contours of the far wall opened and another Siamese female entered, darker than the receptionist and slimmer. Vikki recalled Okra mentioning that all the staff at any particular location of Eden's Oasis were of the same species, so the Ogunquit branch would all be Siamese. She wondered if there was any male staff, and what a massage from a muscular Siamese warrior might be like. Then she wondered whether Silver was enjoying a rub from some petite little Siamese tart at the moment and she tensed up again.

The attendant led her around the pool to the chair without even a glance at her shortened arm. Seeing the lines of tension in Vikki's brow, she settled the vixen back in the comfortable chair and rubbed her forehead.

"Some herbal green tea to help you relax, madam?" Vikki nodded, eyes closed, already feeling better. The paws left her head and she heard the door again. An instant later, the attendant was back and she could smell the tea and sense the heat from the cup being held under her nose. She opened her eyes and took the cup in her right paw. The attendant thoughtfully held the saucer for her. Vikki sipped the hot tea, it was good, and a sense of warm tranquility spread throughout her, enhanced by the sound of the waterfall, the smell of the herbs, the image of the swirling pool and the taste of the tea. She put the empty cup back and it disappeared. A moment later, the paws were rolling the robe down over her shoulders and then they began to massage them. Vikki closed her eyes and let herself drift away.

The attendant kept massaging until she sure that the vixen was unconscious. Then she stepped back and looked up to the camera hidden in the shadows of the ceiling. "Okay, she's under."

A minute later, the door opened and two figures entered. One was small and crooked, a primate. He was a golden marmoset, but with fur so pale that it was almost transparent. He wore a short lab coat over a plain shirt and slacks. The other was taller, straighter and stronger, a canine with contrasting black and white fur, a female husky. She was dressed in a skin-tight black T-shirt that hugged her small breasts, and matching black pants with removable legs, but only the left leg was attached. They stood in front of the sleeping fox.

"She's an amputee." The Husky pointed. "Maybe she had some form of cancer?"

"No, this looks more like trauma repair," the monkey answered, "and less than a year old. An accident perhaps."

"If she's inherently clumsy you'd better not use her DNA."

"I do believe that you are jealous, Amber my dear." The monkey reached out and opened the robe further, exposing one of the fox's breasts. "But I don't blame you, she is so ... so ..." he went to put his paw on the breast.

Amber slapped the paw away. "You know his policy, 'No touching the merchandise', at least until we're done with it. Let's get her out of here before anyone comes looking for them."

* * * * * * * *

Silver entered a room similar to Vikki's, but cautiously rather than tentatively, as was his habit. He went through every doorway as if there was a trap on the other side, even the one to his suite in the Academy housing complex. His paranoia had saved him from death or capture several times in the past and he considered it a survival skill in his line of work. Like Vikki's, this room was empty, and like hers, this room was impressive.

Silver's assigned room had what appeared to be log walls and a real wood-burning fireplace, which was lit and filled the room with warmth and a cheery glow. Silver wondered how much it cost to air condition the room during the summer in order to keep the temperature down to a reasonable level with the fire burning. The floor was made of polished hardwood, maple by the look of it, and the ceiling had been done with rough-hewn oak beams. Silver spotted the lens of the camera instantly, a shiny spot disguised as a knot in the wood. It was right above an antique-looking wooden massage table.

This room was filled with the scent of fresh pine and spruce, and a hint of autumn leaves. The wall opposite the fireplace was made to look like a picture window, but it was only a frame around a flat screen. The scene on the screen was a snow-covered slope, as if seen from a cabin on top of an alp. Gusts of wind blew wisps of dry snow about, the wailing of the blowing wind and the scraping of the snow against the outer walls was captured on the audio track. The room was obviously designed to give one a sense of safety and comfort, and that only heightened Silver's suspicions. It would have to be one hell of a massage to relax him enough to drop his guard.

A door designed to mimic a cabin door, but with mirrors instead of glass panels, occupied the wall opposite the door he had entered by. He turned his back to it. When he heard the door click open his ears and eyes did not move. Instead, he focused on the image reflected in a brass vase on the mantle. A feline with an armload of towels had entered and was standing by the massage table, waiting for him. He turned around casually and looked her over.

It was a Siamese female, taller and fuller than the receptionist had been. This one was also in a silk floral wrap, one that hung straight down from an impressive bust. She indicated that Silver should lie down on the table. Silver did so, still wearing the over-sized robe that he had put on in the changing area. The table's headrest was designed so that he could look straight down at the floor, but by turning his head left he could watch the fire, turning it right gave him a view of the mountainside projection. Instead of these options, Silver rested his chin on one arm and stared straight forward at the wall, where the mirrored panels in the attendant's door allowed him to see what she was doing.

She put the load of towels on on a small side table. Reaching down, she pulled the rope holding his robe closed around until the knot was exposed and she undid it. Tugging gently on the robe she made him shift his weight so that she could pull it out from under him. Once it was free, she eased his arms out of the sleeves and rolled it down to just above his tail. Picking up a towel, she slipped it in under the robe so that it covered him from tail to thigh and hung down over his hips. Once it was in place, she removed the robe and hung it on a peg in the wall.

She looked down on the fox approvingly. Not many of the spa's clients were in such good shape. He was almost six feet tall, lean, with wide muscular shoulders, and back. His thighs and calves were solid and thick with muscle too, like a mountain climber, or a gladiator she supposed. He had a scar through the brow of his left eye and the fur on the back of his left paw was sparse, the skin there puckered and pink from an old burn. The most striking feature were the long scars that criss-crossed his back, the lines of pale flesh where no fur would grow creating a pattern that was almost artistic. What in the world had happened to this fox? She longed to turn him over and take a look at the rest of him, but she had her instructions.

She started on the arm that was hanging; taking each digit of the paw and massaging each joint and pad separately. Silver had to admit that she knew what she doing. As she moved up the arm her digits sought out each individual muscle and kneaded them into submission. She worked her way down one side of him, reaching under the towel to massage the large muscles on his backside. Her paws were all business, although the end result was pleasurable, and she even managed the ticklish part inside his thigh, that place that always made him jerk when Vikki touched it, without any trouble. Down to his feet she went, where she switched sides and started back up again.

Silver changed arms so she could do the other one. By the time she was done with the digits on that paw he was starting to relax and trust her, but he kept his eyes on her. She was sweating from the effort she had put into the massage, but whatever scent she was wearing reacted with the heat and made it smell sweet. He would ask her what it was when they were done; maybe he could get some for Vikki's birthday. Would it work the same on foxes as it did on felines?

She reached up behind her back with one brown paw and undid the knot that held her wrap in place. Silver watched it in the mirror as it drifted lightly down to pool on the floor at her feet. She stood beside the table topless now, Her breasts standing free and firm, the nipples darker circles under the light brown fur. She was wearing a string bikini bottom in a shade of brown that matched the colour of the fur on her face and extremities. When she turned away from the mirror he could see that it came up under her tail in a 'V' and over her hips. It looked so delicate, like a strong impulse would make it come off. When she turned back, he could see her sex outlined under the small triangle of thin material.

This was starting to look like the kind of massage parlour that he was used to.

The cat leapt up on the table in one graceful move. Silver didn't budge; he had seen this technique before. Facing his head, she straddled him and began to press her thumbs hard into the muscles along his spine, starting just above his tail. Silver felt the vertebrae shift and separate, heard them crack as gas bubbles formed and popped between the bone and disc. Slowly, she worked her way up his back.

When she got to his neck her paws probed, feeling for the alignment, examining each delicate vertebrae before continuing. She had moved up so that her thighs were against his sides, her knees in his armpits. When she finished, she spoke for the first time since coming into the room. "I crack your neck for you now, just relax and no fight the motion." Evidently she had not been in America long enough to lose her heavy Siamese accent.

She put one paw under Silver's chin and the other on the back of his head. She tilted his head back a bit and began to roll it back and forth, lulling him into loosening his neck muscles so they would not be damaged when the sudden jerk that would line up all the upper vertebrae came. Silver willed his muscles to relax so that she could get it over with sooner. When she felt them go slack, she shifted her paws and Silver could feel her whole body tense.

Something about the position of her paws was wrong. The bunching of the muscles in her thighs and abdomen were not necessary for what she should be doing. Silver's eyes flew open and he pushed himself up and over as she pulled on his head in a move that was designed to break his neck and sever his spine with the shattered bone.

Years of practising breaks and reversals, on his high school wrestling team, in the army and with the Academy's combat instructor Rusty, had given his muscles a memory for the moves. From the position of her paws he had known which direction she would twist his head and he had gone the same way, adding his strength to hers. Not only did it prevent his neck from snapping, it created enough force to throw them both off the table and onto the floor.

Without pausing, Silver drove his elbow back hard and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch of bone and a high-pitched scream. A series of sharp pains told him that her claws were out and into the flesh on his upper arms, but he ignored the pain and guessing her position from the hissing, slammed his head back. Another crunch, another scream, the claws came out and the cat tried to scramble out from under him. Silver flipped and caught her around the waist.

Whether it was the camera or the sound of her screaming that alerted them, Silver never knew, but the wail of the alarm was unmistakable. Help, for her, would arrive soon; Silver could not afford to prolong this fight, or to be merciful. He stood and picked her up with a hold that would have been considered illegal, as well as erotic, in his wrestling days, and spun her around like an airplane ride. As her speed increased, he took one step closer to the fireplace and extended his arms. Her head connected with the sharp stone edge of the mantle with a sickening and final thump.

Grabbing the poker from beside the fire, he pressed up behind the attendant's door, but kept an eye on the client's entrance just in case. The attendant's door opened first, and another Siamese rushed in, unarmed. Silver didn't know if the blow to the back of her head killed her or not, he was through the door and racing down the corridor beyond before she hit the floor.

The siren continued to wail, but it seemed that they did not have a dedicated security force, because the only creatures Silver encountered as he barrelled though the hallway were more felines in various states of confusion. The poker made short work of those that did not flee. Silver kicked open doors as he went, exposing one empty theme room after another. The fifth room that he checked was warm, as if the fire had been lit until recently, and there was a massage chair inside. He jumped in and put a paw on the seat, still warm too. Back in the corridor, he continued checking each door, but he was looking for an exit that they might have taken Vikki though now.

The last door lead to a stairway, and Silver went down them as fast as he dared. They went down several flights before ending at hallway where he had to choose left or right. He went right.

There were no doors along this corridor, just electric conduit and water pipes servicing the spa above. The passage ended in a large white door with a red light flashing above it in time with the rising and falling pitch of the siren. Silver paused, tried to listen but could hear nothing above the alarm, pulled the door open and dove into the room.

He came up from the floor ready to either smash or throw the poker, but there was no one to attack, this room was empty too. Monitors showed various interior and outdoor scenes, the large central one still tuned to the room he had left the cats in. Silver could see a pool of blood spreading around the heads of both, the one by the fireplace somewhat larger. Lights blinked on the console below the screens. Silver stepped over and studied it for a moment then reached out and silenced the alarm. The console went dim, except for one flashing blue light labelled 'clean up'.

Silver examined the monitor controls. Flipping switches and turning dials he checked the interior room by room. Other than the two probably dead felines in the cabin room, and a few wounded ones still crawling toward the exit, the building was empty. He switched to the exterior views. Nothing but his Porsche in front. Nothing in the woods to each side. A convertible Cooper full of terrified Siamese was leaving the employees parking lot, but the trunk was too small to hold Vikki so he ignored it. There was a camera focused on a floating dock below the low cliff on the ocean side of the property. There was no boat tied to it, but the ropes to do so were hanging in the water, not coiled neatly on the dock the way all the other equipment was.

He managed to swing the camera around to face the sea. A thin line of white marked the recent passage of a boat leaving the area. He followed it with the camera until the horizon came into view. There it was! A twenty-foot inboard turning south. Silver played with the zoom and focus until the boat almost filled the frame. At this distance the image was hazy and jerky and it was hard to keep the boat centred, but he could make out that there were three occupants; a canine of sorts at the helm, a short pale figure beside it and a taller, hooded figure with an unmistakable bulge reclining on the bench behind them. Vikki!

Silver looked around for a bank of security tapes or discs. If he could record some of this, the analysts might be able to trace the boat or identify the occupants. There didn't seem to be anything near the screens. He picked up the poker and pried open the cabinets along the walls, nothing. He checked the walls for hidden doors and finally looked under the console. He didn't find any recording apparatus there, only a dozen cans marked ANFO, with wires leading up into the shadows, and a card taped them that had 'clean up' written on it.

"Oh shit."

Silver was up and running down the corridor, still holding the poker. Ammonium Nitrate - Fuel Oil, ANFO for short, was one of the most widely used explosives in the mining industry, and a weaker version could be made by mixing diesel fuel and certain fertilizers. It was a high explosive and when those cans went the shape of the room would force the explosive wave straight up, taking the spa with it, with a significant amount of energy pushing down this corridor, enough to crush a fox in mid-flight. Silver passed the stairway without slowing, gambling that this corridor lead to the dock and not some dead-end, literally in this case.

He saw the light coming through the open door and put on a burst of speed. He wasn't sure whether he heard the explosion behind him or felt the air rushing ahead of the fireball first, but it was enough to make him dive to the side as he stepped into the open air. Rolling to get as far as he could from the exit, he saw the fire and smoke belching out in flashes, but the blast of the superheated air was constant.

Silver stood up when he was a safe distance, keeping the trunk of a large pine between himself and the hail of stone, wood and plaster that had been Eden's Oasis. Smoke still poured from the door he had exited, but the flames had subsided. He looked out over the ocean, trying to pick out the boat, but it was too far away to make out, maybe even over the horizon by now. Uphill, billows of black smoke rose into the sky as the last bits of spa drifted back down.

There was no sense going down to the dock, not without a second boat to chase them in. Silver headed uphill to see what, if anything, was left of his car. As he approached the burning hulk he saw the lights of the approaching police cars, already close enough to make out the Maine State Police logo. Silver realized that the explosion had left him deaf, hopefully temporarily, because he could not hear their sirens. Standing there in the parking lot watching the police pile out of their cars with pistols drawn he realized several other things; he was still naked, his fur was spattered with gore, he was clutching a bloody poker covered with his prints and DNA from at least two dead cats, and all of his carefully forged ID was floating back to earth as ashes and embers.

It was going to be difficult to talk his way out of this one.