Their Visitor contact, Stuart, met them at the hotel. Stuart was a strapping blond Visitor male - is there any other kind? Angie thought to herself - dressed in a very expensive suit and wearing what was obviously the new, stylized version of a Visitor visor.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tyler, welcome to Destiny City." He smiled and shook their hands. Both Angie and Tyler couldn't help thinking that "friendly" Visitor smiles looked pretty creepy when you knew what was beneath the skin. "You're all checked in, follow me and I'll take you to your suite." He dismissed Charlie Harper with, "That will be all thank you Charles. You'll be called later."

The hotel resembled a glass castle, located on the waterfront. The elevator, also of glass, traveled up the outside of the building to a penthouse suite on the thirtieth floor. Angie tried not to look at the view... she didn't want to see how much of her home town was gone, and was grateful to be able to focus on Stuart.

"I must tell you," he told them, "we're very eager to begin working with Old School Entertainment. Our own company, Amour Enterprises, is doing quite well on the East coast but we'd like to expand nationwide, and your Mr. Bowdoin outlined an excellent distribution partnership opportunity and also told us you might give us some guidance in technological areas. I think you'll find our operation to your satisfaction."

Angie fought a laugh. Amour Enterprises... seriously? Tyler was holding his tongue with some effort, for a much different reason. Oh he didn't mind working with the lizards with an end in mind, but he hated the business nattering that went along with this. For that reason his public persona was going to be more of the "silent partner", approving this and that. Angie's public role would be to do what she did for their (former) business... up front business analytics and (ugh) "customer service". In keeping with his persona, Tyler seldom removed his shades. The fact that they resembled the Visitor eyewear was so much the better.

Their own personal histories were not a problem. The Amour Enterprises group, and probably the Visitor East coast base in general, knew all about them. The fact that The Fixer and his wife met while fighting with the Resistance, the fact that Angie was a double agent embedded in the Visitor library in L.A., and everything else was public knowledge by now. And strangely helpful, because the word on the street about the Fixer was that he was absolutely loyal to whoever was signing his checks. And it was easy enough for Angie to convince anyone that she'd switched sides for love, or money, or the plain hard logic of siding with the winners. If anything, their real backstory made their present cover easier.

The elevator opened into the penthouse, which made every top shelf accommodation even Tyler had seen look like a dump by comparison. Glass walls, optical functions to filter light and even shut it out, enormous living area, even a fully equipped kitchen. And the bedroom was right out of, well... a porno film. But a classy porno film. No mirrors on the ceiling, but a bed the size of South Dakota and a Jacuzzi just steps away. The bathroom itself was half shower room, stainless steel walls and more jets than you could count.

"This'll do," Tyler announced. He was about to ask Angie if she "approved" but she was nowhere to be seen. One of the half dozen sliding doors to the wraparound balcony was wide open, the ocean breeze blowing the silk curtains in waves.

"I believe your wife is admiring the view," Stuart observed.

Admiring the view? Tyler thought. A minute ago she'd have poked her eyes out to avoid it.

Striding out to the balcony - the view was spectacular, nothing but waterfront and ocean and sky - he called "Dear, our host wants to know if this place is up to our usual standard." He never called her "dear". It was strictly for show, and he thought it would get her attention. No dice.

She was at the corner where the view was to the Southeast, leaning hard on the railing, knuckles white where they gripped the bar. She was mumbling, "My God, holy shit," then something he couldn't hear.

Ham dropped his voice as he approached. "Angel, what's up?" When she turned to face him her eyes were full of tears.

"It's still there, I don't believe it's still there!"

He stood close behind her, trying to see what she was talking about. "What's still there?"

She pointed in the near distance. "Right there, that little strip of land, that fort at the end. Castle Island, they didn't destroy it!"

"Well it looks like a useful complex..." he began but she cut him off.

"You don't understand, Castle Island. It's where we used to go... in the summer, when it got really hot, we'd pile in the car and drive down there on the little peninsula, there was a clam shack and we'd bring a couple six packs and lie on the beach and look at the stars. There's been a fort there since the Revolutionary War, and Edgar Allen Poe wrote 'The Cask of Amontillado' after he heard the story about a guy who was walled up there after killing someone in a duel." She turned back to look at the fort, voice full of wonder. "It's still there."

Stuart joined them then. "Ah I see you've noticed Victory Island. I understand it has been used as fortification for this city since long before... for centuries."

Angie managed not to cringe at the name. "Yes, I remember it from my years here. In Boston." She couldn't resist. Stuart shifted a bit.

"Yes, well... if you're happy with your accommodations, I'll leave you to settle in." He led the way back inside but Angie stopped him from sliding the glass door shut.

"Leave it open... I love the sea breeze."

"Of course." Stuart turned to Tyler. "Mr. Tyler if you're agreeable, a meeting is set for three p.m. with our director of operations. Charles will be waiting downstairs for you."

"That's fine, we'll be there."

Ham breathed a sigh of relief when the one-man Visitor Welcoming Committee had gone. Angie still looked a little dazed.

"You okay?" He went to where she was sort-of going through her stuff instead of unpacking it. "Look at me."

When she did, her eyes were dry. "Yeah I'm okay. Just took me by surprise is all. Sorry I went off like that, it's just... well it would have been okay if you brought me back to business." She glanced to the door where Stuart had just exited. "Wouldn't it be great if the first thing I did was screw this up."

Ham stroked a hand down Angie's hair. "Nah, he didn't catch any of it. And besides, who am I to stomp on a good memory, when there are so few of them to remember?"

"Yeah," she murmured. Suddenly she sharpened like a laser. "Which reminds me, I gotta figure out how to turn Charlie into a willing accomplice without his knowledge. I can't just play on the 'good memories', even if there were plenty which there were only a few, because he'd know something weird was going on."

Tyler was putting his own things away in the huge closets but suggested over his shoulder, "I bet he's dying to hear you keep calling him Dad."

"He's lucky I don't call him 'motherfucker'. No, I mean ease back in, casual like. Not happy families, just... getting to know you. Again. So we can see if he knows anything at all about what happens with, omigod, Amour Enterprises, that might be useful to us. I mean, can you believe that name?" She'd finished hanging up all of her "business" clothes and had shoved the more typical blue jeans and fall pullovers she'd gotten from the L.A. hotel fashion store into the drawers that seemed unable to slam. "Well I'm gonna take a shower before I have to change into my Grown Up clothes. You wanna go first?" When she turned she noticed him staring at her. "What?"

"Speaking of amour...how about we save water? Plenty of room in there."

He was wearing his "c'mere" smile.

Angie laughed out loud. "Mr. 'I-shower-to-get-clean-not-laid' wants to save water suddenly?"

She stopped laughing as he lifted her arms over her head, smoothly peeled off her v-neck, and began to cover her neck and shoulder in slow kisses.

"Y'know," he murmured in his darkest voice as he led her to the bathroom, "it's been a while since I enjoyed my husbandly privileges, so now that we're not running, or shooting, or hiding out in an abandoned building..."

He was right. They hadn't made love since before the Visitors returned, and suddenly Angie realized she needed to be that close to him more than anything she could think of.

"Fine," she purred as they shed the rest of their clothes and he turned on the million-and-one jets. "I'll watch your back."

"I'd prefer if you wash it."

Somehow they managed to be downstairs by two-thirty, and found Charlie waiting as promised.

"Hope you two had time to freshen up," he greeted.

Angie met his eyes boldly and assured him with a smile, "No worries there... Dad."