//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: It Starts // Story: Can't Stop Now // by PingSquirrel //------------------------------//         I was running on caffeine today because I didn’t sleep well last night.  I spent most of the night tossing and turning in the sheets while my mind raced with all the ways this could turn out badly.  I knew I was in way over my head, but I did stupidly promise my help to them despite it.  That’s why I was on a roof now in the mid afternoon with my camera aimed at a box in an alley.  We were hoping to catch a glimpse of a guy that picked up the drop that Jacob left earlier.  It was simply a note saying that the money will be ready by Wednesday morning of next week. I already set my camera pointed down at the location and made myself a little nest on the rooftop consisting of a blanket to lay on and a cooler.  That was all done early in the day, leaving me with little to do, so I turned to my notebook again to read through the notes.  It would force me to keep my head down and not peek.  That sort of thing might give me away.         Three days ago Porsche Esterhazy, the daughter of Jacob and the late Vanessa Esterhazy was taken, presumably on the way home from school.  An anonymous letter was left at their gate saying that she was taken and not to contact the police.  The kidnappers had stated they’d know if the police were contacted and that they’d kill her if they were.  They gave the Esterhazys five days to come up with the ransom.         In order to keep the kidnapping quiet, the school was told that Porsche was ill and needed time off.  That went smoothly at least.         As for the clients themselves, Jacob was a ruthless lawyer in his younger days until he met his first wife Vanessa, who was a small time author of self-help books.  With her, he opened a publishing company, using the wealth from his lawyer days to fund it and her eye for authors that deserved a chance but couldn’t get one from the other publishers.  It did surprisingly well, apparently, though I wasn’t much of a reader.  Even now, Jayvee Publishing is doing quite well by helping back talented authors e-publish by covering the legalities for them.         Vanessa passed on to cancer about seven years ago, and Jacob spent raised his daughter by himself for those years, while keeping up the business in his wife’s memory.  Daphne met Jacob about four years ago after trying to sue Jayvee for copyright issues, and despite the rocky start to their relationship, they married two years later. I closed the book and sighed. There were no real suspects that they could point at for the kidnapping. It could be a competitor, someone that one of them met in court, or a disgruntled author that felt shafted by a rejection.  It could even be someone crazy that just wanted the money.         “I take it back. I want to go back to just taking pictures of frauds and deadbeats.  This is way too much pressure,” I said to myself as I rolled onto my back and stared up at the sky to clear my head.  Even the lukewarm coke from my lunchbox didn’t provide me any solace as I sipped at it.  At least it was a bit cloudy today, otherwise this would be unbearably hot up here.         My phone vibrated.  I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Lanny calling me to see if I was coming, but I checked it anyways and found I was right.  He’d keep calling if I didn’t answer him, but if I actually talked to him, his begging would get annoying in seconds.  Maybe, he’ll settle for a text.  I started typing, “Sorry bro.  Client needs me.  Ca-” _-_-_-_-_ I was pinned me down by an immense pressure.  It might as well have been a mountain above me. “So, our time together draws to a close.  I bet you been aching to hear that.  Or, maybe you’re just aching.  I admit  it.  I overdid it a wee bit.”         Everything hurt.  Everything.  It hurt to breath, to flinch, to open my eyes.  It was so damned bright.  It burned. “You haven’t won.”         “I love that “never-say-die” attitude you have!  I can see why your friend likes you so much, but as much as I’d like to keep you around a little longer, a deal’s a deal.  Five score, divided by four...” _-_-_-_-_         The beep of a phone battery dying startled me.  “I just charged this stupid thing. Why is it dying already?” I said, trailing off as I saw the display.  “Six missed calls?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing on my phone!  How could I miss a call, let alone six?  I never miss calls.  I can’t miss calls!  I’m running my own business.  Then, I noticed it was getting darker out.  Not quite evening yet but getting close.  That can’t be right.  I looked to my phone again, and checked the time.  “Five thirty?  Fuck me, I fell asleep!”         Alright, Ryan.  Stay calm.  First thing, first.  I peeked over the edge and at the alleyway to see that the box was still there, but opened.  “Fuck!!” All wasn’t lost though as I grabbed my camera and flipped through the options to go through the footage at fast forward.  It took me a few minutes, to find the moment where the message was picked up.  I stared at the red-haired man on that small screen while he casually strolled with his hands in his pockets.  He was even whistling from the looks of the video as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  He didn’t even look around for anyone that might watch him open the box, and he did it in the same lackadaisical sort of way he walked there.  You’d think having his money delayed would provoke some sort of reaction from him, but he didn’t even seem upset at the message, and simply jotted down a quick response and tossed it in the box.  As casually and easily as he came, he wandered off without a sense of urgency.  I stopped one of the frames and zoomed in on the suspect.  I didn’t know who he was.   Maybe if I could get the image to a bigger screen to clearly see who that was, and maybe compare it to whatever I could from official wanted bulletins, but at least I had the footage.  I could work with that much, and to that end, I fired the entire video off to my own e-mail. “Alright.  Next.  Exactly how fucked am I?”  I scrolled through the missed calls.  Only one was from Jacob and Daphne and it was the most recent one.  One was from the insurance company.  The last four were Lanny.  “Good.  Not entirely fucked.  Move onto damage control.” With that confirmed, I needed to get the response before I did anything else.  Once I knew what was said, I could contact Jacob and Daphne.  I rushed to the ladder and across the street to the box.  The message was simple and in very neat handwriting, but I couldn’t say I liked what I saw. “Good.  That would be more time I get to spend with her.” I shook my head in disbelief.  I felt sick, but I had to keep my composure for one phone call.  Jacob was quick to answer, and I could hear Daphne in the background.  I think I was on a speaker phone because there was an echo to the sound.  “Hello.  Mr. Esterhazy?” “Black?  Did they get the message?  Is everything alright?” he asked quickly.  The poor guy was trying to stay calm, but I could tell his nerves were wearing down. “Yeah.  They got the message.  I think you have the time, but I didn’t like the wording.  I think they’re happy to have more time with your daughter,” I said flatly.  I had to be honest with a client, no matter how painful it might be. Silence answered me. “I think we got to go to the police,” I said calmly, filling the space. “No.  No police.  They’ll kill her!  If they want the money, we’ll get them the money!” Daphne cried before breaking down into sobs.  I wish I could do anything to soothe her, but I had nothing to offer her. “Tell me you got a picture of the bastard,” Jacob demanded sharply.  I couldn’t blame him for getting angry. “I did.  I’ll forward a picture of him as soon as I clean it up from the video.  If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll be able to ID the guy.  You can expect it this evening, along with the details of the pick up,” I said as professionally as I could, for their sake.   “Thank you, Ryan,” said Daphne, as she got a hold of herself. “Please get back to us soon.” “I’m on it,” I said, and hung up the phone, which was immediately followed by me sighing heavily and falling against the wall.  I was feeling drained all day and it was getting worse even with that mid-day nap.  “I really hope they want to go to the cops soon.” I couldn’t stop now though.  Not yet.  There was simply too much to do and not enough time to do it in.  With a push off of the wall and with a listless pace I headed back to my camp.  It had to be packed up before I could go home. _-_-_-_-_         I was dead on my feet just a few hours ago.  I even stripped down to my boxers and a t-shirt in preparation for an early night as soon as I sent my clients the video and pictures, but I got my second wind as soon as the sun sank below the horizon.  I was revitalized like it was a brand new day and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and waste it. There was too much work to be done while the energy lasted. I was back at home at my computer to take that image of the red-headed man to any site I could think of in search for a name or any other sort of lead on the guy.  The Esterhazys had no idea who he was, so it was up to me to find out who it could be.  So far, there was no matches to anything matching his description, or his pictures but I did have couple of pages of notes on the guy, from how he walked, to the brands he was wearing.         I also mentally made fun of the man too.  Admittedly, it wasn’t a mature thing to do, but he’s an asshole of the highest caliber, so I’m allowed to do it.  For example, he could really use a haircut.  That red mop on top of his head looked more like a mane.  “Hey.  Didn’t you hear? Mullet’s went out of style decades ago,” I muttered at the screen, but that wasn’t enough.         I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers in front of my face as I stared at that picture.  I didn’t like this man and I mean that in ways deeper than just the visceral reaction to what he did.  It was an instinctive dislike of him and everything he stood for that came from somewhere deep within me.  It was like I wasn’t supposed to like him just like I knew how to breathe.  It’s hard to explain, because I had nothing else to compare the emotion to.  This was further than loathing.  Omni-loathing, if you will.  I hated everything about him.         The sound of the doorbell broke my concentration on the screen.  It was past midnight, so that quickly narrowed down the list of suspects that could be at the door to one.  It was going to be Lanny and I was about to be whined at for not showing up for an awkward party with a stripper, but he was a friend, so I’d just have to grin and bear it.         Since no one else in the house was awake this late, it was up to me to get the door.  I was dressed decently enough to shoo a friend away from the door.  “Lanny.  I know it’s you out here.  What are you doing coming here this late?” I asked after I opened the door, only to find the front yard deserted.  “Really, Lanny?  Playing Rap-Rap-Ginger after midnight?” Then, I made the mistake of stepping outside.  He must of been just out of sight or around the corner because the only warning I got was him screaming in mid-flight, “Birthday Tackles!”                  Every bit of wind in my lungs was knocked out by the ballistic missile that was my supposed friend.  Of course, it helped that he was built like a linebacker, and still played the position occasionally.  He even had the after-a-big-play-taunt dances down too and was showing off his best one over my corpse.  “I got you, bro!  Sacked!”           I moaned a response.  If I was thinking coherently, it’d translate to something that combined a death-threat with request for the notification of my next of kin.  Lanny, being the good friend he was, did the only logical thing he could do after inflicting a brutal assault on his friend;  He snapped a picture of me sprawled out in my underwear on my doorstop.  The flash didn’t rouse me, but he blinked at what he noticed.         “Woah!  Bro!  You got ink done?  Is that why you didn’t show up to the party?  Let me see it!” he said, prodding my leg with his foot.         “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked as I forced myself up to sit up.  I didn’t think anything was broken, but my big black buddy was going to pay for this insult.         He poked me again, right at the bottom hem of my boxers.  This time I looked at what he was pointing at and saw the bottom half of a steel grey circle.  “Did you get high and get tattooed and then forgot, all without me, bro?  That hurts,” Lanny said while pretending to be wounded.         “No.  Just wait a moment,” I said as I pulled up the edge of the boxers, to see a star inside of the circle.  It looked like a marshal's badge without any sort of writing on it, or maybe a military emblem.  “When the hell did I do that to myself?”         “You high right now?”  Lanny asked as he offered me a hand up.  “Do you need help getting back down the stairs?”         I took the offered help and got back to my feet. “No, I’m not high.  I never do that sort of thing, and you know that.  But, what the fuck?  I showered this morning and been working a case pretty much all day.”         “Okay, okay.  But, you got a tattoo, bro.  Wait!  You got them on both sides!”  he said as he began to laugh. “Are you sure you’re not-”         “For the last time, Lanny.  I’m not high.  I’m not drunk.  I never do drugs, and I didn’t drink today.  I don’t know when I got these or how I could considering I didn’t have them this morning and I’ve been very busy all day today,” I said very coldly and calmly. “Alright, alright.  Relax, bro.  I was just trying to get you to have fun, you know?  No need to go all crazy like that.  It’s really no big deal if you really don’t want do anything, but I brought you a couple of those Quebec beers you like.  Figured we’d at least toast your birthday,” he said.  “Sorry about the tackle.” “Ah, it’s alright Lanny.  You’re just catching the flack for my current case.  It’s big and it’s getting to me,” I said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Big?  Bigger than that car accident scam?” he asks. “Bigger than that.  Much, much bigger,” I answered.  “Hopefully it’ll be done in a week or so, then I can get back to the usual.  But, you mentioned beer back there?” He reached into his bag and pulled a tall bottle of Trois Pistol.  “Only the best for you, bro.  How about we get inside and you can tell me about where you got your tattoos done?  Been thinking of getting some ink done myself actually, and if you know a guy, that’d help a lot.” “Alright, but don’t think the beer will make me forget about the tackle.  There’ll be plenty of vengeance for you once this all clears up,” I said as I ushered my friend in.  Of course, my mind was racing with thoughts of where the tattoos could’ve came from.  Were they even tattoos?  If they were put on today, shouldn’t they be sore and scabbing?  Nothing made sense about them.  “You know what?  You head downstairs.  I need to hit the bathroom.”         He nodded and headed down to my room, leaving me free to go to the bathroom.  “Why the fuck did this happen?  I don’t need anything else on my plate,” I muttered as I looked at one of the grey stars in the mirror.  I brushed a hand over it, and tried to find an edge to peel up, but nothing of the sort was to be found.  There wasn’t a sign of injury, or any sort of blemish on my skin beyond the mark itself either, which meant this was a tattoo, and I know for a fact that I didn’t do this to myself.  So, how did it get there? The only unaccounted time I had in the day was when I fell asleep.  It was absurd, but could someone have tattooed me while I was out?  It was implausible, but the only other option was the tattoo spontaneously generated itself and that was impossible.  Other questions like “Who?” “How?” and “Why?” followed quickly.  Occam's Razor was slashing the “Secret Tattoo Stalker” theory into ribbons, but there was nothing better to explain it. I gave them one last look in the mirror and decided that I might even like the marks if their arrival wasn’t such a mystery.  After I made a quick stop to get a couple of glasses for the beer, I headed down the stairs to join my friend. “Who’s this “Sanguine” guy?” Lanny asked over his shoulder.  He was at my computer, reading some of my case notes. “Hey!  That’s confidential information!” I said, as I quickly moved to get him away from there, before I noticed he gave the suspect a name.  That caught my attention. “And, what do you mean, “Sanguine”?  Do you know that guy?” He pointed at the part of the screen where my typing was.  “It’s your notes.  That’s what it says,” he said defensively. Now, that didn’t sound like anything I’d do, so I looked over my friend’s shoulder and read over my own notes, only to found I did just that.  I usually wrote “subject” or “suspect” when I was taking notes on my surveillance videos, but this time, every time I referred to the red-haired man, I wrote “Sanguine”.   “I don’t remember doing that,” I muttered to myself as I gave my head a shake in hopes that would fix everything.  The words didn’t change.  It’s only been a day since I took the case, and it was a simple job.  Watch a stupid box.  That’s it.  The stakes were high, but the work was something I’ve done a hundred times.  I couldn’t be cracking under pressure this quickly. “You alright, bro?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I flatly said as I still stared at the screen.  It’s one thing to occasionally typo, but I was putting that name down every time and that was uncharacteristically unprofessional of me.         “If you want, I can come back after you get some sleep,” he said helpfully.  “You know.  Celebrate your b-day tomorrow when you’re not stressing.”         “Don’t worry about that.  I’m too awake to even consider sleeping, and the beer sounds really good right now,” I said as I set down the two glasses on the desk.  “Pour away, bro.  I need it.”         Lanny complied and poured the dark brew, and we both lifted our glasses. “To another twenty five years,” he toasted and glasses clicked together.         “May they get better from here,” I added and we clicked again and followed the gesture with a long drink.         “So, is “Sanguine” like a code name for your job or something?” Lanny asked as soon as he could. “And the tat is like, the official seal of the group you joined?  Are you a spy?”         “You caught me;  I’m a spy.  Tomorrow, I meet with Frank Moses and James Bond to take down Blofeld and the Ten Rings,” I replied, laying on the sarcasm thick, and he rolled his eyes at me.  “Sorry.  I wish I could give you more details, but I really can’t right now.  This guy is just setting me right on edge and there’s a lot riding on what I’m doing for my client.”         “You said that, already, and I’m okay with it.  I just want to make sure you’re still having fun occasionally,” he said, then the doorbell rang.  The grin he got on his face was wide and goofy.  “Like right now.”         “Lanny.  Who’s at the door at half past midnight?” I asked suspiciously.         His grin didn’t fade at all.  “Well, I promised you a classy stripper yesterday, right?”         “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lanny.” _-_-_-_-_         The warmth of sun on her legs told Porsche that it was morning, but she was clueless as to exactly what time it was.  Being bound and gagged for days tends to blend the hours together. The hood kept her from looking around, so she strained her ears for anything she could hear.  The faint sound of traffic from the streets below, and the noisy snoring about the place told her at least one of her captors was asleep and she wasn’t far from help if she could slip the cuffs she was in.  Jack redid her bindings before his companions returned, but what became obvious with the time spent with him was that he was a different sort from the two that wore masks.  For example, Jack talked at length with her about the Monet exhibit at the local art museum, the other two never reached for any higher than Daniel Tosh’s latest comedy show in their conversations.  Jack was obviously educated and experienced in this sort of work, but had no desire to lead the group. That roll seemed to be on the taller masked man that seemed to flounder without directions at times, but still clung to his tenuous command.  It was no wonder that the first two didn’t like Jack.  He was a threat to them, but they were tolerating him for now.  She didn’t like him either, because while he was more pleasant company, he was much more volatile.                  There was no sound of movement around her, so she began testing her bindings to find they were strong, but the chair she was on had a little play.  She began flexing as much as she could, prying herself against the cuffs until they started to cut into her, but even that didn’t stop her.  The cheap plastic arm suddenly snapped. She reached down to feel cracked surface and her heart leaped.  She nearly gasped cheerfully at how easy it was, but she couldn’t risk waking anyone, no matter how good this moment felt to her.         She pried up once more, and began working her arm and cuff towards the break. It was slow, painful work but the blood from her cuts did help things move easier, so she took that for what it was.  Finally though, the cuff slipped through the crack and the first thing she did was reach to her hood and pulled it off.  The daylight blinded her instantly, but after a second to adjust, she was paralyzed at what she saw.         Jack was sitting across the room watching her with his fingers steepled just under his nose and baring a very wide smile.  He even spoke quietly to encourage her to carry on.  “Aren’t you going to continue your escape?  I want to see where you’re going with this.”         Her vision blurred in an instant as tears began to flow freely.  It wasn’t fair to have hope again, only to have it torn away from her like this.  Now, she wanted to take back everything she had done so far this morning.         Time dragged as the red-haired man got up from his seat and took a long stretch until he was suitably relaxed for the slow stroll over to Porsche.  He spoke softly, so no one would wake up. “Nothing?  That’s quite the shame.  It would’ve made for a very an interesting morning if you did manage to get loose.  Oh well.”         As the man stepped up to her, she shrank back in her chair, unsure what she could do to appease him before he loomed over her.  Her heart thumped in her chest as she stared up at him while he looked right through her until the moment he reached for her.         Porsche screamed into her gag and thrashed as much as she could before his iron grip caught her one free wrist.  He was much stronger than his lithe build would suggest.         “Quiet,” he commanded calmly.         She nodded out of panic, though it took her a minute to quell her whimpering. Jack was willing to wait so she could hear his every word.  “Now, you know you shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing, and I know I can’t let this slide or it’ll be nothing but escape attempts all the time,” he explained.  “What do you think would be a fair lesson?”         There was only a trembling sob into a gag to answer him.         “I see,” he replied as he reached into his pocket, and pulled that balisong he carried with him and with a graceful flick of his wrist, the razor sharp blade was brought out.   “Now, I consider myself a fair man, and this is your first offence so I should be lenient.  A finger should be a good object lesson.  Two, if you fight me on this,” he stated coolly as he brought the knife’s edge to her hand.           It was all too much for Porsche as she watched the blade’s approach with wild and frightened eyes, and her screaming into the gag grew louder and louder in muffled pleas for mercy.  She twisted and pulled all she could against his hold in a hope her hand might slip from his grasp, but her captor didn’t care though, and he laid the blade against her skin at the joint.  His twisted smile returned to his face as he started to put enough pressure to dimple the skin against the edge of his knife, and then the-         “What you doing with the bitch?” The taller masked man yawned as he came through the door, which resulted in the action being paused entirely.   Jack’s eyes met hers one more time apologetically, and he let out a frustrated sigh as he ended his work before it really began.  No one saw the quick motion he used to put the blade away while he turned to his acquaintance. “It’s breakfast time.  A late breakfast, but breakfast all the same.  I picked up some lovely fresh biscuits and a few pieces of fruit from a place I know,” Jack cheerfully suggested. “Why don’t you go and wake your friend and we can all enjoy a nice meal together?” The man rubbed his eyes and adjusted his mask.  “Sounds good,” he listlessly said back to Jack before he left the room to go find his shorter friend. “What a terrible break of luck,” Jack said as he watched the man leave.  “Oh well.  That’s life and today is just a beautiful day.  You can’t get all worked up about the details.” With that, he simply walked back to the small bag he had and opened it up to reveal he was truthful about what he brought for food. “Now, do you want an apple or an orange.  Both are very nice.”           Porsche was still getting out of her shell shocked state, but she did have enough awareness not to give him another reason to get upset.  She dumbly nodded towards the apple.         “Oh!  A very good choice.  I’m more of an orange man myself.  I think it’s the whole experience that comes with peeling them that makes me like them.  It’s a nice reminder of good times,” he said before tossing one of the apples to her lap and that was followed by an english muffin.  “What do you say?” The gag came off slowly because she only had one hand to get it loose, but Jack waited contentedly for her.  She loathed the man she was looking at, but keeping him happy seemed like a good idea. “Thank you,” she breathed, before something caught her eye.         Jack noticed the perked attention quickly. “What is it?” he asked.         “Your hair.  It’s longer and a different colour,” she answered, though she was unsure how Jack would take that.         “I know it is.  It happened over the last day or so, and I’m not entirely sure why.  I do like it, so there’s no complaints from me, but it’s a peculiar thing.  What do you think?” he said as he pulled back his hood to reveal a flow of long, straight red hair.  It wasn’t the same red as it was before, but rather a red that you’d find when you let blood sit too long. It didn’t look like a wig, but other than that, she had no real opinion on her captor’s hair style. “I think it suits you,” is all she could say, and the fact it made him smile shamed her. They both could hear the approaching footsteps and Jack pulled his hood back up before the two masked men walked in.  “Good morning, my friends.  Did you sleep well?” The short one rolled his eyes. “Yeah.  Just fucking great,” he said right back before he grabbed an apple and bit into it. “There’s no need to be rude,” Jack said warmly.  He really didn’t expect any better from these two, but he did give the taller one a glance. “I slept alright, I guess.   Least for sitting on the floor.  Thanks for breakfast,” the taller one replied after the subtle prompt before he dug into the food as well.         “You’re very welcome,” Jack answered as he watched the two take several bites. “Oh yes,  I think I should mention that  I fed your cat while I was out this morning, Brad.  The poor thing was starved for affection.  You really should get a sitter for it.”         The shorter man choked and Jack continued while looking at the dumbfounded taller man.  “And, I think you should visit your mother more often, Chris.  Even first thing in the morning, she wanted to talk for hours.  She’s a very lovely woman.”         “How the fuck do you know all that?!” Brad finally was able to get out.         “Please watch the language.  We have a minor present,” Jack scolded before he leaned back in his chair.  “Now, it’s no secret that this little team of ours has a few trust issues and that’s understandable, so I just wanted to find out a little about the two of you.  Now, I know all about you two, and you two don’t really know too much about me, so let me tell you a story, so you two might know where I’m coming from.  That way, you won’t feel like I’m treating you unfairly.”         “How did you know my name?” Brad demanded again in a near yell.         “Why are you in such a rush to find out?  Just relax, eat and listen,”  Jack said as he rose to his feet to walk around the group as he talked.  No one noticed that he was bouncing on his toes as he did so.  “When I was about six or seven, I remember living by a forest with my mother.  It was a nice one too, with lots of lush, vibrant trees and clean streams. It was too perfect for this world, but it’s where I grew up.  I’d spend hours wandering the forest by a logging road, when one day something special happened.  One of the drivers must have missed seeing a rabbit crossing the road and clipped it hard enough to hurt it terribly, but not kill it instantly, leaving it for me to find.  I remember looking down at it as it squealed in pain, but there was no help to be had.  I could’ve picked it up and took it back to mother, but what could she do?  She couldn’t magically heal it.  If I just left it, it might have suffered for hours before it eventually passed on.  There was only one thing I could do.”         Jack took a deep breath and shivered in pleasure as he continued to recount the story. “I remember putting my foot on its throat, and the way it’s bones shifted as I put my weight down.  It was so scared of what was coming, and tried to struggle to prolong the inevitable, but as I put more and more weight on my hoof, I knew I was doing it the greatest favour it ever received.  Destiny, fate and chance all came together to make a perfect little moment just for me to enjoy.  I knew I had found my own special talent that I’d share with the world.  It’s really hard to explain the euphoria that came with the revelation, but just know it was an epiphany.  And, that’s why I’m here.  I can cheerfully do things neither of you can, and I hope you will come to appreciate that in time.“           None of the audience knew what to make of what was said, and there was a thick silence in the room that was only broken by the sound of Jack chewing away.         “Just one more thing.  Thank you both for buying breakfast today. It’s very much appreciated,” Jack added as he reached into his coat pocket to pull out a pair of wallets which he tossed back to their owners. “And, when you’re trying to stay in disguise, don’t carry photo ID with you.  It’s a tip for next time you undertake a project like this.”         The two men continued to stare, while Porsche just thought about something she noticed in Jack’s speech that the others seemed to have missed.  He said “hoof”.  She was sure of it.   Between that and his new hairstyle, she started to think on the recent stories about “ponies” in the news.  She never considered that they might be true, but was Jack one of them?         She looked up at the ginger again.  If he was one, they weren’t all sugar-sweet and nice.