Dawn was just brightening the horizon when Rollie, Manny, and Angie left for the studio.  Rollie could feel the tension building inside him as he thought about their plans for catching the saboteur.  If all went as planned, they would no longer have to worry about every gag being a potential death trap.

As they walked through the door of Stage Nine, they stopped and looked at the set filling two-thirds the building.  The set of the Tudor-style home was divided into four sections.  The section facing them was that of the entry hall, main room, and staircase leading up to a balcony.  To the right, was the bedroom set, to the left, the kitchen set.  Around the other side, was the facade of the front of the house, complete with a small square of lawn and shrubbery.  The script called for the hero to enter the burning house on a desperate search for his fiancée.  It would be the longest special effects sequence in the movie--and the most dangerous.

Angie noticed five big, tough-looking men walking toward them.  They made her nervous until she saw the smile on Rollie’s face.

“Hi, guys!  Glad you could make it,” the Aussie said happily.

“Hey, you call, we come running,” said the dark-haired man in the lead.  “We’re not about to let some wacko try to hurt one of our own, even if you have abandoned us for greener pastures.”  The last few words were spoken teasingly.

Rollie turned to Manny and Angie.  “These are some stuntman friends of mine.  The one with the smart mouth is Pete, the redheaded Irishman here is Shawn, and that’s Rocky, Max, and Dane.  They’re going to be our watchdogs today.  They’ll keep an eye on everyone who comes on the set while we’re working.  With them hanging around, I don’t think our saboteur will try anything this morning.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Manny agreed as he shook hands with the men.  “Tell me, were any of you guys football players?”

There was a chorus of laughs.

“Actually, Pete, Rocky, Max, and Dane all played football in school,” said the stuntman named Shawn, his thick Irish accent giving his voice a pleasant, lilting quality.  “I got me muscles by doin’ good, hard, honest work in me father’s refinery in Dublin.”

“Hah!  And you got that nice little beer belly by downing gallons of Irish ale on every one of your hour long ten minute breaks,” teased the man named Pete.

Angie looked at Shawn’s stomach, seeing only the tiniest bit of roundness there.

The redhead shot back a retort.

“Boys, boys,” Rollie interrupted with a smile.  “You’ll have plenty of time to compare muscles and your capacity for alcohol later.  Now it’s time to get to work.”

“Sure thing, Rollie.  Just tell us where you want us,” Pete said, now completely serious.

“Okay, Pete, you watch the bedroom set.  Max, you go around to the front facade, and Rocky, you take the kitchen.  Shawn and Dane, you keep an eye on the main room here.  We’ll be setting up in there first.”

The men separated, heading for the ‘stations’ they had been assigned to.  Rollie and Manny got busy placing the devices they had worked on the previous night.  Then came setting up the torches that would make it appear as if the set was engulfed in flames.  Collapsing beams and ceiling planks were rigged that would fall on cue to add to the apparent danger.  Throughout the set up, Angie helped where she could.  When she wasn’t helping, she studied the faces of the people on the set, searching for someone who looked like they didn’t belong. But all the grips and riggers appeared to be exactly who they were supposed to be.

“Hey, Rollie!  There’s a phone call for you.  You’ll have to take it at the offices,” a crewman called.

“Thanks!  I’ll be back as soon as I can, Manny.”  The Aussie quickly left the building.

Rollie had been gone for all of thirty seconds, when another voice interrupted the work flow.

“Mister Ramirez?”

Manny looked up to see a man in a suit and tie who was holding a clipboard.

“Yes?”

“I’m Robert Drake with the safety commission.”

“Oh, yes.  I’ve been expecting you.”  Manny shook the man’s hand.

“I’d like to take a look at what you’re doing here.”

“Of course.”  Manny started showing the man around, explaining how the gag was going to play out.

“How much danger will there be to the people on the set during filming?” the man asked.

“Not much,” Manny assured him.  “The fire will be completely under our control, and all of the falling debris will be perfectly timed.”

The inspector nodded.  “What about afterwards.  I assume you will be cleaning up and removing your equipment.  How hazardous will it be on the set with all of the debris and heat?”

“No danger at all, unless someone trips over something.”

The inspector studied the charges and other equipment.  “I understand you’ve had some trouble.  Sabotage?  Some kind of bomb scare?”

“Uh, yes.  We’ve had a couple of close calls.”

“Your assistant was injured on both occasions, I was told.”

“He received some burns on his legs during the first incident and came close to drowning on the second one.  He’s all right, though,” Manny assured the man.

“Then I gather that he’s still working full time?  Is he here now?”

“No, he went to take a call, but he’ll be back in a few minutes.  He’ll be working with me the rest of the day on this.  Why?”

“Just wanted to know why you hadn’t given him the time off to recover.”

“He didn’t want the time off.  I would have given it to him if he had.  Why don’t you talk to Rollie about this?  He should be back at any time.”

The man glanced at his watch.  “I have another appointment now.  I’ll talk with him at another time.  Thank you for your assistance, Mister Ramirez,” The inspector shook Manny’s hand, then turned and left the building.

“Papa?  Are you going to get into trouble because Rollie got hurt?” Angie asked.

“I don’t know, Ange.  It looks like I might.”

“But that’s not fair.  It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but that might not make a difference to them.  All we can do is wait and see.”

Rollie returned a couple of minutes later.  He looked at the expression on Manny’s and Angie’s faces and knew that something was up.  “What happened?”

Manny told his apprentice about the conversation with the inspector.

“Well, you can bet that I’ll get this straightened out,” Rollie said emphatically.  “Do you know where the guy went?”

“No, but don’t worry about it now.  I’m sure he’ll be coming back.  We need to get things finished here.  It’s nearly lunchtime.”

They quickly finished setting up.  Everyone then filed out of the building, with Rollie, Manny, and Angie being the last to leave.  They headed straight over to the van.  Detective Gray and Sam were inside, waiting for them.

“That fingerprint thing is quite the gadget, Rollie,” Sam said.  “I felt like a secret agent or something using it.”

Rollie grinned.  “Sure, Sammy.  Anyone can see that you’re really James Bond in disguise.”  Then he grew serious.  He went over to where four monitors sat and turned them on one by one.  The pictures that came onto the screen showed the house set from four different angles.

“Where are the pictures coming from?” Gray asked.

“There are four cameras set up.  They look like regular movie cameras, but they’re really TV cameras that are broadcasting directly to us.”

Just then, Rollie noticed movement on one of the screens.  Someone slipped out from behind some equipment.

“Why, that son of a. . . .”  Sam’s voice was full of anger.

Rollie stared in shock at the figure on the screen.

“What is it?  Who is it?” Detective Gray asked.

“It’s Louie Farrell.  He’s a stuntman.”  Rollie’s voice reflected the dismay he was feeling.

“A stuntman?  But what would he have against Mister Ramirez?” Gray asked.

“Not a thing,” Rollie said.  “But he does have a grudge against me.  I just never imagined that he hated me so much.”

They all watched as the stuntman approached the set.  The man squatted beside one of the explosive charges and started doing something to it.

“All right.  We’ve got enough.”  The detective made a quick call on his walkie talkie, then left the van, everyone else following close behind him.

As they burst into the building, Farrell jumped up and spun around, his eyes widening.  He took a step backwards, then saw the gun being trained on him.

“Hold it right there, Farrell,” yelled Gray.  “Get your hands up where I can see them.”

The stuntman stood still for a moment, then slowly raised his hands.  A moment later, they were being handcuffed behind his back.

“Louis Farrell, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Roland Tyler.  You have the right to remain silent, you--”

“Murder!  You’re crazy!  I didn’t try to kill anyone.  You’re not going to pin that rap on me!  I want a lawyer, now!”  Farrell glared at Rollie.  “This is your doing!  Well, it’s not going to work, you hear?  You’re not going to frame me!  I’ll make you pay for this, Tyler!”  The stuntman began struggling in the detective’s grasp.

Suddenly, Sam’s fist lashed out and struck Farrell’s jaw.  The stuntman fell to the floor.

“You slimy bastard!” Sam yelled.  “I should kill you for what you did!”

Rollie grabbed his friend’s arm.  “Sam, no.  It’s all right.  It’s over.”

Just then, two uniformed cops showed up.  They pulled the screaming, struggling man outside.  As Gray finished reading Farrell his rights, the man was put into a blue-and-white.

Rollie watched the car as it left.  There had been a look of pure hatred in Farrell’s eyes.

“We’ll question him at the station,” Detective Gray said.  “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, Detective.  Thanks for everything,” Manny said.  As Gray walked away, the F/X man turned to Rollie.  “Are you okay?”

“I . . . yeah, I guess.  I just never thought that it would turn out to be another stuntman.  I’m having a hard time believing it.”

Manny placed a comforting hand on his apprentice’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Rollie.  I really am.  At least it’s over now.”  The F/X man studied his young apprentice.  “We should get something to eat.”

Rollie shook his head.  “I’m not hungry.  You guys go on without me.”

“Are you sure, Rol?” Sam asked.  “You should eat.  You’re too skinny as it is.”

Rollie smiled weakly.  “I’ll be all right.”

Angie came up and slipped her hand into the Aussie’s.  “I’ll stay with you, Rollie.”

Rollie smiled more brightly and hugged her close.

“How about if we get something to go and bring it back here?” Manny suggested.

The Aussie met his employer’s gaze.  “That would be fine.  Thanks.”

“Good.”

Manny and Sam left to get the food as Rollie and Angie climbed into the van.  Rollie sat down in a chair and stared at the monitors, which were still broadcasting pictures of the set.

Angie looked at the Aussie.  She hated seeing the sad look that was in his eyes.  Wanting to make him feel better, Angie got up into his lap and wrapped her arms about his waist.  She pressed her face against his chest.  Rollie’s arms came about her and held her close.  After a few moments, he lowered his head and rested his cheek on the top of her head, sighing deeply.  They stayed like that, in mutual silence, until Manny and Sam returned.

The F/X man looked at Angie and his apprentice, realizing that the mere presence of his daughter would do more to help Rollie than any words Manny could ever speak.  He and Sam climbed into the van carrying containers of food from the commissary.  Rollie just picked at his food to start with, then finally found his appetite.  Things remained quiet in the van, only occasional bits of conversation breaking the silence.  Everyone was glad when the lunch break was over and they could get back to work.

“I’ll see you later, Rollie,” Sam said.  “You take care, okay?”

Rollie smiled at his friend.  He knew that the man was worried about him.  “I will, Sammy.  See you later.”

Rollie joined Manny and Angie as they went back into Stage Nine.  Manny examined the device that Farrell had messed with and found several wires pulled out.  He put the wires back where they belonged and did a quick check of the other devices and equipment.  The camera crew was coming in.  Rollie removed the television cameras so that the real movie cameras could be set up.  A few minutes later, the director arrived, then came the actors and the stuntman and woman.  Everyone gathered at the house front facade.  The leading man, Ray Southland, took up position at the front door.

“All right.  Is everyone set?” the director called.  There were several thumbs up.  “Then let’s do this.  Bring down the lights.”  The lights were lowered to a level resembling that of twilight.  Lamps on either side of the door cast their pale glow on the walkway and grass.  “Cameras and . . . action!”

Ray walked down the walkway.  When he was about fifteen feet from the house, Manny pressed a button.  An explosion ripped through the facade, shattering the windows.  The actor threw himself violently to the ground as if he’d been hit by the concussion of the blast.  Seemingly dazed, he looked up at the burning structure.

“Christine!” he yelled.  Scrambling to his feet, he ran to the door.  As he threw it open, Rollie signaled to a grip who turned a valve.  Flames shot out from the open doorway.  The actor backed off, throwing his arms up to protect his face.  Rollie signaled again and the flame subsided for a moment.  Ray dashed through the doorway.

“Cut!  Great!  Let’s move along folks.  Makeup, get in there and dirty him up.”

The fire flicking around the door went out as a makeup woman went onto the set to put a couple of smears on Ray’s face and dust his clothes with fake ash.

“Deirdre, you’re on, Love,” the director said once the makeup woman had completed her job.

The leading lady joined Ray inside.  He picked her up and she relaxed in his arms, pretending to be unconscious.  As the cameras began to roll and the fire flared up about them, Ray carried Deirdre out the door.  Just as he laid her gently on the grass, another explosion rocked the ‘house’.  The cameras closed in on the two actors.

“Christine?  Darling?” Ray said, his voice full of concern.

Slowly, Deirdre’s eyes opened.  “Anthony?  Oh, Anthony!”  Her arms came up and pulled Ray close.

“And . . . cut!  Terrific!  Okay, let’s get over to the other side,” the director said.

The flames immediately guttered out, and the light in the building was returned to its full brightness.  Everyone quickly walked around to the main room set on the other side.  The actor walked onto the set as the cameras were rolled up close to it.  Again, the lights were lowered and the director called, “Action.”  Flames suddenly leapt up everywhere.  Ray threw his arms up over his face and head.  He looked around, crying the woman’s name over and over again.  Turning to the left, he headed for a pair of swinging doors.  He went through them, then came back out into the main room a few second later, still screaming the name of his character’s fiancée.

“Cut!  Okay, let’s get the stuntman in there,” said the director.

The flames were reduced to a flicker as Ray was replaced by his stunt double, Fred Rice.  Filming resumed, and the fire leapt up higher than ever.  As the stuntman struggled to reach the staircase, small explosions detonated to his right and left, spitting fire and debris.  Rollie signaled to another grip who was positioned on a platform above Fred, out of camera shot.  The grip pulled a lever and one end of a beam came crashing down to smash into the floor just behind the stuntman.  Flames writhed across its length.  Then another grip released several pieces of two-by-fours, narrowly missing the stuntman.  Braving the falling debris, Fred made his way up the stairs. He reached for one of the doors.

“Cut!  Perfect!” the director called.  He motioned to the leading lady’s stunt double, who ran up the stairs.  Fred picked her up in his arms and she promptly went limp.

“Ready?  Wait!  Someone open that door,” the director called.

A grip made a mad dash up the stairs and opened the door behind the stunt people.  He ran back down and filming resumed.  With flames raging about them and debris raining down, the stuntman carried the woman down the stairs, his head tucked in close to the woman to hide his face.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the director again stopped filming.  “Time for you again, Deirdre and Ray,” he said.

The leading lady and man stepped forward, taking the places of the stunt people.  Filming resumed, and Ray, with Deirdre in his arms, came toward the camera.

“Cut!  Great stuff, people,” the director said, pleased.  “Okay, let’s move into the bedroom.”

They did the shots of the hero bursting into the bedroom and rescuing his fiancée, then they filmed the scene of the hero looking for her in the blazing kitchen.  After that, came all the closeups.  By the time they were finished, everyone was hot, sweaty, and tired.  As the director called, “Cut and print!” on the final scene, Rollie and Manny released the tension that had kept them on edge throughout the entire filming.  Everything had worked perfectly.  No catastrophes.

The film crew, actors, and everyone else except for Rollie, Manny, Angie, and a few grips left the building.  Now came the cleanup.  As the torches and hoses were removed by the grips, Rollie, Manny, and Angie took care of the equipment.

“Hey, could you give us a hand?  The hose is caught on something,” called a voice from the other side of the main room’s back wall.

“Angie, see if you can help them,” Manny told his daughter.

Angie walked toward the wall to the right of the staircase.  After a few seconds, she called, “I can’t get it.  It’s really stuck.”

“I’ll get it,” Rollie said.  “Here.”  He handed the equipment in his hands to Manny and headed toward Angie.

His arms full, Manny left the set and laid the equipment down.  Suddenly, a tremendous explosion threw him to the floor.  In shock and terror, he turned over to see half the main room set collapse into a heap of blazing timbers.

“ANGIE!!!”  Manny screamed.  He leapt to his feet and launched himself forward, but three grips grabbed him, pulling him back.

As Manny screamed again and again, fighting with all his strength against the arms that held him, he saw a movement through the flames.  The dark form of Rollie shakily rose to his feet.  Between the Aussie and Manny, there was a single narrow path almost free of flames and debris, an avenue of escape for the young apprentice.  Behind him, lay a maze of fiery timbers.  Somewhere beyond that, was Angie.

Manny stopped struggling.  Through the fire and smoke, through the blackening, splintered spears of wood, Manny’s and Rollie’s eyes met for a timeless moment.  Then, the Aussie turned and dove into the inferno behind him.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -- INFERNO

Fire.  Everywhere he looked, the flames leapt in their deadly, wild dance, sucking away the oxygen and leaving in its place smoke and burning heat.  Rollie stood at the center of the inferno, desperately seeking a way past to the place where he knew Angie was.

“Angie!” he cried between coughs, but there was no answer.  The silence of her voice was more terrifying than the smoke that was choking the life out of him, more terrifying than the flames that sought to consume him.

Rollie ripped pieces of his shirt off and wrapped them around his hands.  He then picked up a smoldering length of wood and, ignoring the pain, used it to sweep aside the timbers separating him from Angie.  Pieces of wood fell, sparks flying upward like thousands of fireflies to sting his arms and face.

At last, he had a hole that he could slip through.  With flames licking hungrily at him, Rollie leaped through the opening.

“Angie!” he yelled again, choking and hacking as the smoke filled his lungs.  Seeking to escape the smoke, Rollie went to his knees.  That’s when he saw her.  Her small, still body lay sprawled against the wall, half hidden by the staircase.  Rollie scrambled over to her, terror making his heart beat painfully fast in his chest.  The side of her head was covered with blood, and her face was a white mask.  “Ange?”  Rollie felt for a pulse and found one, slow and shallow.

The Aussie gathered Angie up in his arms.  Suddenly, he heard a loud cracking and groaning above him.  He looked up to see fire writhing and coiling like glowing snakes across the beam above them.  As he watched in horror, the beam, with a final groan, came crashing down toward them.

Manny stared into the flames, every muscle, every nerve of his body screaming at him to move, to leap forward into the inferno and find his daughter.  But it would be suicide.  He would never reach her.  Angie’s life was in the hands of one man, the man who, moments before, had turned his back on his own safety and dove into almost certain death to find her.

The sound of sirens penetrated through to Manny’s brain.  He turned to see firefighters rushing through the door.  His fear-hazed mind wondered how they’d gotten there so fast, then he realized that they were the studio’s private firefighters.

The men rushed toward the blaze, hoses trailing behind them.  As Manny and the grips were told to move back, powerful streams of water rocketed forth from the hoses’ nozzles.  Manny watched the water do battle with the fire, wondering if it might already be too late to save his daughter and his apprentice.

With Angie in his arms, Rollie dove under the staircase.  The beam crashed to the floor mere inches from his legs.  With another horrendous roar, more beams fell, taking the remainder of the roof with them.  Rollie covered Angie’s body with his own, trying to protect her from the rain of burning debris that flew in all directions.  He cried out as a large splinter of wood speared his shoulder like a hot poker.  Panting from the pain, he reached back and pulled out the smoldering piece of wood.

Rollie looked at the pile of blazing timbers and knew that there would be no escape for them that way.  Waves of suffocating heat were slamming into him, trying to crush him under their almost physical weight.  Rollie’s vision kept going dark as the merciless heat and smoke slowly ripped away his strength and his consciousness.  It was only through a sheer act of will that he was able to fight back the blackness.  His gaze turned to the other side of the staircase.  A small clear area beckoned to him, offering a possible way out.  Rollie stripped off his shirt.  Ripping the arms off, he tied one over his nose and mouth, then did the same for Angie with the other one.  The remainder of the shirt he used to cover Angie’s head.  The Aussie then scooped her up and staggered out from under the stairs.

Rollie looked about, seeing nothing but fire everywhere.  Then his eyes lifted.  Littered here and there with flaming debris, the staircase curved upward to the balcony of the second story.  Rollie’s eyes moved beyond the balcony to the wall separating the main room set from the house front facade.  Realizing that it might be their only hope, Rollie draped Angie over his shoulder and pulled himself up onto the staircase.

Manny stared at the raging hell the set had become.  Though his mind knew that the chances of Rollie and Angie still being alive were almost nonexistent, his heart would not let him surrender hope.  Then, through the flames, he saw something move.  In utter amazement and soaring joy, he saw Rollie, Angie hanging over his shoulder, stagger up the stairs.  Shouts arose as the firefighters also saw them.  Wishing with every fiber of his being that he could be there to help, Manny watched the Aussie reach the balcony.  Just as he did, one of the few remaining roof beams fell, crashing through the balcony floor directly in front of the Aussie.  Pausing only a moment, Rollie leaped across the jagged gap.  He then moved toward a table against the wall.  The Aussie climbed onto it and reached up to grasp the top of the wall.

“No!” Manny cried as, with a horrendous crash, the balcony collapsed, its flame-ravaged supports buckling.  For one terrifying, breathless moment, Rollie and Angie dangled above the blazing wreckage.  Then Rollie slowly pulled himself and Angie’s unmoving body up the wall.  As he reached the top, Rollie knelt and removed Angie from his shoulder.  He then stood with her cradled in his arms.  His body illuminated by the flames dancing up toward them, the Aussie stood poised on the wall--then jumped.

Manny cried out.  Heedless of the warning shouts from the firefighters, he ran around to the other side of the set.  The fire had begun eating its way through the back wall of the main room set.  At any moment, the wall would collapse.  Ignoring the danger, Manny dashed in through the door of the facade and up the stairs to the platform above.  As he reached the top, he saw Rollie’s crumpled form.  The Aussie’s body partially covered that of Manny’s daughter.  The F/X man fell to his knees beside them.  Blood was oozing from a deep puncture wound in Rollie’s right shoulder.  Burns and welts covered his back and arms.  Manny gently turned his apprentice over and saw the slow rise and fall of his chest.  The F/X man’s eyes then turned to his daughter.  His throat tightening with fear and anguish, he saw her deathly white face and the blood matting her golden hair.

Just then, three firefighters came up the stairs.  One man scooped up Angie in his arms as the second slung Rollie over his shoulders.  The third fireman grabbed Manny’s arm, and they all scrambled down the staircase.  As they dashed out the door of the facade, there was a roar behind them.  Manny turned to see the wall of the main room collapse.

Manny was hurried outside, the firemen carrying Rollie and Angie following after him.  Two ambulances arrived, a city fire truck hot on their tail.  More firemen bearing hoses rushed into the building.

Rollie and Angie were gently laid on the ground and blankets were spread over them.  The firefighters removed the soot-covered material covering the mouths of the two unconscious people.  Manny sat silently and watched as his daughter and apprentice were given oxygen by the paramedics.  After a couple of minutes, Rollie began coughing.  The paramedic kept the oxygen mask over his face until he pushed it away.  His eyes blinking open, he stared wildly about.

“Angie!” he cried, trying to sit up.  One of the paramedics held him down, telling him to stay put.  That’s when Rollie turned to his left and saw Angie lying a few feet away.  “Angie?” he called, his voice hoarse from fear and smoke inhalation.  He turned back to the paramedics.  “Is she alive?  Please tell me she’s alive.”

“She’s alive, and she’s being taken care of, so just lay back and rest.”

Rollie then saw Manny.  Their eyes met.  A thousand words silently passed between them in a brief moment of time.

A few more minutes passed, then one of the men treating Angie turned to Manny.  “Your daughter has a serious head injury, Mister Ramirez.  She’s holding her own, but we need to get her to the hospital right away.”

Rollie watched as Angie was carefully placed on a gurney and loaded into one of the ambulances.  Manny climbed in after her, and the vehicle pulled away.  Rollie was then helped onto another gurney and put in the second ambulance.

On the drive to the hospital, Rollie kept seeing Angie’s pale, unconscious face.  The thought of her being hurt, made his chest and throat ache.  The thought of her dying, brought on a pain so intense that he nearly cried out.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital, and Rollie was taken into an exam room.  When the doctor and nurses came in, he asked how Angie was.  They replied that they did not know.  Rollie was poked and prodded, both with instruments and questions.  His injuries were treated and he was cleaned up, his ragged clothes were replaced by a hospital gown, an IV was hooked up to him, and he was shuttled off to a room.  Through the whole process, every time he asked about Angie, the answer was the same as before.

Rollie lay in bed for all of ten minutes, then, though every muscle in his body screamed and raged at him, he got up and headed down the hall, taking his IV along for the trip.

Manny sat alone in the emergency waiting room, his thoughts filled with the image of his daughter.  If he lost her, there would be nothing left to live for.  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a very angry Australian voice.

“I bloody well don’t give a damn what the doctor’s going to say!  If you don’t tell me right now where. . . .”  Rollie’s voice trailed off as he saw Manny.  He slowly approached his employer.  “How . . . how’s Angie?”

“She’s in surgery.  She has a skull fracture and possible injuries to her brain.  I . . . don’t know anything more than that.”

Rollie sat beside him.

The nurse who had been arguing with Rollie glared at him disapprovingly.  “Well, if you’re going to insist on being pig-headed and unreasonable, Mister Tyler, then I’d better get you a robe so you’re not sitting in the waiting room nearly half-naked.”  She strode away, mumbling something under her breath about the cranial thickness of the average male.

Manny looked at the bandages covering his apprentice’s arms and hands and the thick pad bulging beneath the right shoulder of his hospital gown.  “You should be in bed, Rollie.”

“I’ve already spent too much time in hospital beds lately.  There’s nothing wrong with me except for a few burns and a skewered shoulder.”

The nurse returned a moment later with a robe and slippers.  With a sour expression still on her face, she helped Rollie put them on.  Seconds after she left, a doctor came in.  Both Rollie and Manny stood.

“Your daughter is still in surgery, Mister Ramirez.  I just wanted to give you an update.  There’s been some hemorrhaging in her brain.  The doctors are attempting to stop the bleeding.  We don’t know the extent of the damage yet.”

“What--” Manny cleared his throat as his voice failed.  “What are her chances?”

“It really is too soon to tell.  All head injuries involving the brain are serious.  There’s been some swelling, which has us concerned, but we’re hoping that we can reduce it through the use of drugs.”  The doctor paused.  “I’ve seen some patients with this kind of injury recover fully.”

“And the other patients?” Rollie asked.

The doctor turned to him and said nothing.  He didn’t have to.  The Aussie could see the answer in his eyes.

“I can’t really say anything more at this time,” the doctor said, returning his attention to Manny.  “The surgeon will come to see you when the surgery is over.”  He looked at Rollie, taking note of his attire and the IV, then left the waiting room.

The two men sat back down.  As he waited, the fear and grief inside Rollie grew.  He kept thinking of Angie, her lovely little smile, her wonderful laugh, the way she made him feel so warm, and happy--and loved.  The thought of her dying, dying because he’d screwed up, was ripping his heart to shreds.

“I am so sorry, Manny,” the Aussie said, his eyes focused on the floor between his feet.  “I must have missed something.  Despite all my precautions, he somehow planted a bomb on the set.  He must have done it before we got there.  I never considered that. . . .  God, I am so sorry.”  His last words were spoken in a trembling whisper.

Manny stared at his apprentice.  He then grasped Rollie’s shoulders.  “Look at me.”  There was no response.  “Look at me!”  Rollie’s eyes lifted to meet his.  “Don’t you dare apologize, do you hear me?!  This is not your fault!  My God, Rollie.  You threw yourself into that hell, nearly sacrificing your life to save her!  For as long as I live, there will never be anything I can do that would repay you for that.  You are the bravest, kindest, most extraordinary man I have ever met.  If I had a son, there is not another person on Earth that I would rather have him be like than you.  I wish . . . I wish that you were my son.”

Rollie gazed into the eyes of his employer and friend.  All at once, the tears that he’d held back came forth.  Manny gathered the young man into his arms as he wept.  Tears came to Manny’s own eyes, but he did not let them fall.  He could not let them fall.  If he did, then it meant that he’d given up hope.

As Rollie’s tears subsided, the two men drew apart.  Awkward minutes of silence passed while the Aussie wiped the wetness from his face.  His shoulder and burns were hurting, and he was angry with himself for noticing such an unimportant thing when Angie was in that operating room fighting for her life.

Manny noticed his apprentice flinch slightly as he moved his shoulder.  Concluding that the Aussie’s injuries were bothering him, he walked over to the nurses’ station and spoke to the woman there.  He then returned to his seat.  Rollie had barely noticed his absence, so absorbed in his thoughts was he.  Five minutes later, the same nurse who had balled Rollie out earlier came up to the Aussie and increased the drip on his IV, increasing the dosage of pain killers.

“If you were resting as you should be, you’re injuries wouldn’t be hurting as much,” she said, her voice full of censure.

Rollie lifted his face to hers.  The moment the nurse saw the dark wells of sadness that the young man’s eyes had become, her displeasure in him vanished.

“Why don’t you go back to you room, Mister Tyler,” she said gently.  “You need to rest.”

“I can’t.  I have to be here when. . . .”  Rollie could say no more.

“All right.  I understand.  But don’t overdo it, okay?”  The nurse patted his arm, then went back to her duties.

Time dragged on as the two men waited for news of the little girl who meant so much to both of them.  At last, a doctor came into the waiting room.  He sat down beside Manny.

“I’m Doctor Hayes.  Your daughter is in ICU, Mister Ramirez.  We managed to stop the bleeding.  Her vitals are stable for now, but . . . there is still swelling in the brain tissue.  We’re monitoring it closely.  If the swelling stops, she has a good chance of making it.”  He didn’t add that, if it didn’t stop, Angie would die from the pressure on her brain.

“What about brain damage?  Will there be . . . impairments?” Manny asked

“I won’t lie to you.  That is a very real possibility, but it is not a certainty.  I’ve been a neurosurgeon for eighteen years, and I still can’t predict the outcome of every brain injury.  So far, there are no indications of that.  In the end, we can only wait and see.”  The surgeon turned to Rollie.  “Are you supposed to be out here?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hayes said.  He left it at that.

“We can see her, can’t we?” Rollie asked.

“Yes, of course.  You can get the room number from the nurses’ station.  I’m going off duty now, but I’ll be sure to look in on her tomorrow, and Doctor Berman will be here for the rest of the evening.  He’ll be able to answer any other questions you may have.”

The silence of the ICU was like a physical presence as Rollie and Manny headed toward Angie’s room.  Manny was attempting to stay calm, fighting against the fear that lurked just beneath the surface.  But, as he entered Angie’s room and saw her still, white form lying so small and helpless in the bed, his emotions suddenly hit him full force.  He stopped just inside, the color draining from his face.  He leaned against the wall as his knees threatened to give way.

Rollie turned at a small, strangled sound behind him.  He took one look at the expression on Manny’s face and dashed forward to grasp the man’s arm.  He helped his friend to the chair beside Angie’s bed.

Manny reached out and gently placed his daughter’s small, pale hand into his own large, brown one.  With the fingers of his other hand, he gently stroked her cheek.

Feeling like an interloper, Rollie watched father and daughter for a moment, then he quietly slipped past Manny and out of the room.  As quickly as he could, he walked back to his room.  Once the door was shut behind him, he reached for the chair and collapsed into it.  Wrapping his arms about himself, he closed his eyes against the tears that again threatened to spill.

“Hey, sweetheart.  It’s Papa.  I’m right here, baby.  I’m not going anywhere.”  Manny paused as his voice began to waver.  He cleared his throat.  “Did I ever tell you that you have always been a very special gift to me?  Your mama and I thought that we could never have children.  When the doctor told us that we were going to have a baby, it was like an angel had smiled down on us.  That’s why we named you Angela.  You were our little angel sent from heaven.”  Manny paused, swallowing the lump in his throat.  “Do you remember that song your mama used to sing to you every night before you went to sleep?”  Hesitantly, Manny began singing the lullaby, his voice cracking and faltering.  Halfway through, his voice failed completely.

Manny’s grasp tightened on Angie’s hand.  “Dear God,” he whispered.  “Please don’t let my baby die.”

At last, able to bear the pain no longer, Manny wept, his tears wetting the pillow beside his daughter’s head.

Rollie sat alone in his room, staring out into the darkness behind the window.  His reflection stared back at him--dark, haunted eyes in a face pale with grief and exhaustion.  As the minutes ticked by, an unwavering determination grew within him.  At last, Rollie went to the phone beside the bed.

“Detective Gray,” said the voice on the other end as the call connected.

“This is Rollie Tyler.  I assume you know what happened.”

“Mister Tyler!  Yes, I just got back from examining the scene.  We learned some startling things.  I called the hospital a little while ago.  How is Mister Ramirez’s daughter?”

Rollie paused, his throat tightening.  “It isn’t good.  We don’t know yet if . . . if she’s going to make it.  I need you to do me a favor, Detective.”

“Certainly.”

“I’d like you to stop by my apartment and get me some clothes: shirt, shoes, pants, coat--the works.  You’ll find a key taped to the bottom of the table at the end of the hallway.  Bring the clothes here.  I’m in Room 220.”

“And what are you going to do after you get the clothes?” the detective asked.

“I’ll tell you that when you get here,” the Aussie replied.

After hanging up, Rollie pushed the call button for the nurse.

“I’m leaving,” he stated as she came in the room.

The nurse stared at him for the space of about two heartbeats.  “The doctors are not going to agree to that, Mister Tyler.  You’ve been through a tremendous physical ordeal.  Some of those burns are serious.  You inhaled a great deal of smoke, and that shoulder should be kept immobile,” she glanced down at the sling he had discarded quite some time ago, “which, I see, you are not doing.  The doctors want to monitor you for a while to make sure there are no complications.”

“Look, there is something that I have to do.  Now, if I have to walk out of here stark naked through an entire platoon of guards, I will, but, one way or another, I’m going.  If it will make you happier, I’ll give myself back to you after I’ve taken care of what I need to.  I’ll even wear the bloody sling.”

The nurse just stared at him, shook her head, and went to get the doctor.  About fifteen minutes later, the man came in and repeated what the nurse had said.  Rollie told him just about the same thing he had told the nurse.  Knowing that he couldn’t keep Rollie there by force, the doctor reluctantly agreed to his temporary absence.  The IV was removed.

A few minutes later, Gray arrived with the clothes.  “Okay, so what do you plan on doing?” he asked as Rollie got dressed.

“I want to talk to Farrell.”

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have brought the clothes,” Gray stated.

“I know.”  Rollie studied the detective’s face.  “You haven’t gotten anything out of him, have you.”

“No.  He suddenly decided that he wasn’t going to say anything without a lawyer.  He wants his cousin to represent him, and the guy is out of town until tomorrow.”

“Put me in with him, and he’ll talk.  I guarantee it.  I’ve been thinking about this whole thing for hours, and I have some suspicions.”

“Such as?” Gray asked.

“Not until after I talk to Farrell.”

The detective sighed.  “All right.  But the captain will have my head on a platter if he finds out.”

Rollie stood in the observation room, staring at Louie Farrell.  The man sat alone in the interrogation room.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Detective Gray asked.

“I’m sure,” Rollie replied.

“All right.  I’ll be here if you need me.”

As Rollie stepped into the room, Farrell’s eyes widened.

“What’s the matter, Louie?  You look surprised to see me.”

“I thought. . . .”  The stuntman’s expression changed, became guarded.  “That detective told me that there was a bombing and that you were in the hospital.”

Rollie sat across the table from Farrell.  “I was in the hospital.  Did he also tell you that Manny Ramirez’s eleven year old daughter was hurt as well?  Did he tell you that she might die?”  Anger was creeping into his voice.

“Well, I didn’t plant the bomb, and you have no proof that I did.  The cops aren’t going to get me on that, Tyler.”

“Maybe not.  But, if the cops don’t get you for it, I will.”  The statement was made softly.

Farrell stared at him.  “You wouldn’t kill me.  You’re not the kind to do that.”

Rollie’s gaze dropped to the table.  “You’re right.  I wouldn’t kill you.  But there are worse things that you can do to a man than kill him, things the Aborigines taught me.”  Rollie’s eyes lifted and looked directly into Farrell’s.  There was an expression in the Aussie’s eyes that was beyond description.

Farrell’s body drew away from Rollie.  He seemed to shrink in on himself, as if he were trying to hide inside his own skin.  The man’s eyes were wide with fear.  “I-I didn’t do it!  I didn’t plant any bombs!  I just wanted to screw things up, make you look like a fool.”

“What about the car?”

“I just drilled holes in the floorboards.  I figured that you’d have to jump out of the car and blow the stunt.”

“You didn’t rig the door to lock or place a timer on the explosives?”

“No!  No!  I didn’t do that.  It wasn’t me!  I don’t know anything about that technical stuff.”  Farrell’s voice had taken on a desperate, squeaky tone.

“And the light for the boat gag.  What did you do to that?” Rollie asked.

“Nothing!  All I did was loosen a screw on the cable release so that it wouldn’t open.”

Rollie gasped in surprise.  His mind flashed back to the events just before the helicopter lifted off.  “The other grip!  The one who was bent over the light.  That was you?”

Farrell nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes, yes!  I got a fake moustache and beard from Makeup and disguised my voice.”

“What about on the house set?”

“I was just going to disable some of the explosives so that they wouldn’t go off, making you and your boss look incompetent.  That’s all!  I didn’t try to kill you.  I didn’t!”

Rollie looked at the stuntman for a long time.  “Farrell, you’re an idiot.  When you heard about the murder attempts, didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe you should just leave things alone and steer clear of the whole damn thing?!”

Not waiting for an answer, Rollie strode out of the room.  He went into the observation room and stared at Farrell through the mirror.

“So, you think he’s telling the truth?” Gray asked.

“Yeah, it’s the truth.  Ever since he was caught, I’ve been wondering how he could have been smart enough to do the things the saboteur did.  I thought that maybe he’d been putting on an act all this time I’ve known him, but it just didn’t fit.  Then there was the question of why he'd go back to the house set if he'd already planted a bomb.  I was right to start with.  He doesn’t have the brains to stay out of the path of a speeding train, let alone build the devices that were used by the person who tried to kill me.”

“Then there are two saboteurs.  Well, that’s something I never considered.”

“Me either.”  Rollie gave a bitter, humorless laugh.  “You know, it’s ironic.  Farrell did those things to embarrass me, to make me look like a fool.  Instead, he ended up saving my life.”

The detective looked at the Aussie.  “Those things you said to him in there.  I have to admit that you even scared me.  Did you really mean them, about what the Aborigines taught you?”

Rollie smiled.  “No, they didn’t teach me any methods of torture.  Um, well, there was one nasty little thing, but . . . well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t be, uh, practical for this situation.”

“Then you were bluffing.”

Rollie grew serious.  “Mostly,” he said.

Gray continued to stare at the Aussie for a few seconds, then decided that he didn’t want to know what part of Rollie’s threats had not been a bluff.  “So, this case isn’t closed after all, which means that you and Mister Ramirez are still in danger.  I’m going to put a man at the hospital and keep the men at the Ramirez place.  If you go home, I don’t want you there alone.”

“I won’t be going home.”  Rollie turned away from the mirror.  “I’ll be going back to the hospital.  I’m only out on temporary leave.”

“I’ll put a man on your door, then, too.  Whoever this is, he may try to get you there.”

“I don’t think so.  This guy wants to kill me during a gag.  I’m sure of it.”  Suddenly, Rollie remembered something.  He went back into the interrogation room.  Farrell seemed to shrink about six inches in height at the sight of him.  “On the day you came to see me in the hospital, did you come back that night and try to get into my room?”

“Huh?”  There was a blank look on the stuntman’s face.  “No.  Why would I come there in the middle of the night?”

“Good question,” Rollie said.  He left the room, nearly colliding with Detective Gray, who was standing just outside the door.

“What’s this about a late night visitor at the hospital?” Gray asked.

Rollie told him about what the nurse had seen.  He mentioned nothing about the ‘feeling’ that had awakened him from a sound sleep.

“And you just decided not to tell me about this?”  There was displeasure on the detective’s face.

With a sheepish expression, Rollie said, “At the time, I didn’t think there was any connection.  I still believed that Manny was the only target.  Later on, what with everything else that was happening, I forgot about it.”

“Well, this settles it.  You’re getting a police escort back to the hospital, and there’s going to be a man stationed outside your room.”

Rollie agreed to the bodyguard.  They went to Gray’s desk and sat down.

“What did you find out at the studio?” the Aussie asked.

“We determined that the bomb was placed inside a cabinet on the set. We found three more unexploded devices in the other sections of the set.  Someone wanted to make sure that, no matter where you were, you’d be right in the middle of an explosion.  There’s something different about this time.  The bomb was set off by remote control.”

“He was there?!”  The thought that the man had been right there in the building when the bomb detonated sent a chill through him.  That’s when he realized something.  “Of course he was there.  He had to make sure that I would be on the set when the bomb exploded.  He must have watched us all the time we were removing our equipment, waiting for the perfect opportunity.”

“This change of tactics has me worried.  It may mean that he’s getting more desperate, more willing to take chances.”

Rollie returned to the hospital in a police car.  The officer accompanied him inside and all the way to Angie’s room.  He waited outside as the Aussie quietly went in.  Manny was still sitting beside his daughter, gazing down at her unconscious face.  He looked up at the sound of footsteps.

“The nurses told me that you left the hospital,” the F/X artist said.  “I was worried about you.”

“I went and talked to Louie Farrell at the police station.  He didn’t do this, Manny.  Oh, he was responsible for some of the sabotage, but he didn’t try to kill me, and he didn’t have anything to do with the bombs.”  Rollie told the man what he’d found out.

“Then the man who did this is still out there.”  There was a look in Manny’s eyes, a silent rage and hatred that made the darkness of them glitter with a dangerous light.

“We’re going to get him, Manny, I promise you.”  He winced as the pain from his burns and shoulder injury made themselves known.

“You need to be put back on that IV, Rollie.  You must be in quite a bit of pain.”

“I’m all right,” the Aussie claim.

“Uh huh.  Well, I’m still going to call a nurse in here.”

A while later, Rollie was back on the IV, his arm was in a sling again, and he had received more than one tongue lashing from the nurses and requests that he go back to his room.  He’d ignored both the tongue lashings and the requests.

Shortly after the nurses had left, Doctor Berman came in.  By the look on his face, they knew that he did not have good news.  Rollie quickly rose to his feet.

“What is it?” Manny asked, alarmed.

“As you know, we’ve been concerned about the swelling in your daughter’s brain.  We’ve been hoping that the drugs would stop it.  Unfortunately, the level of swelling is increasing more rapidly than we had anticipated.”

“What can you do?” Rollie asked.

“If we have to, we will perform a second craniotomy--open the skull--to attempt to relieve the pressure, but that has its own risks.  It would be better to wait on that until we have no other choice.   Except for that, I’m afraid that there isn’t much else that can be done.  Because of the skull, there is just so much room for the brain to swell.  Once it reaches a certain point, the pressure becomes too great for the brain to survive.  There’s still a chance that the swelling will abate, though, before surgery is necessary.  I’ve seen patients on the brink of death suddenly make an about face and go home a few days later, almost completely back to normal.  All we can do is wait and see what happens over the next few hours.”
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -- DREAMS AND REALITY

As the doctor left, Rollie had the sudden need to sit down again.  He pulled his chair closer to Angie’s bed.  His hand came out and laid over hers.  His eyes went to Angie’s face and stayed there as he desperately tried not to think of the fact that she could die.

Manny watched his apprentice from the other side of the bed.  Dark circles sat beneath the Aussie’s eyes like bruises.  His face was pale and haggard.  The F/X artist could tell that Rollie was right on the edge of collapse.  The young man had been through a tremendous ordeal, both emotionally and physically.  He should have been in bed, but Manny knew that it would be a waste of breath to tell him that.  Now that Rollie was there beside Angie, an earthquake wouldn’t move him.

Manny knew with absolute certainty that, if Angie died, the Aussie would never recover.  It would destroy him, just as certainly as it would destroy Manny himself.  Rollie and Angie had come to care about each other a great deal.  It was almost uncanny how they had bonded so completely in such a short time.

The F/X man thought about what things had been like for him and his daughter before the young Aussie came into their lives and realized that Rollie had brought a gift to them, a happiness they had not known since Lillian’s death.  But there was more than that.  In these few days that they’d known Rollie, Manny had felt a sense of . . . healing.  He felt as if he could finally come to terms with the loss of his wife.  He felt stronger somehow, as if the young man’s own strength and will to live had imparted itself upon him.  Manny knew that Angie had also been affected profoundly by Rollie’s presence.  More than the infatuation, she had finally started releasing the grief that she’d been silently suffering for the past two years.

As Manny looked at Rollie and Angie together, a sudden, strange picture flashed into his mind.  He saw his daughter, grown and beautiful, dressed in a wedding gown.  Beside her, looking down upon her with eyes full of love, was Rollie.  The image faded, taking with it the feelings of peace and happiness it had inspired.  Yet, a small fragment of those emotions remained.  He knew that the image had only been a trick of his tired, grief-filled mind, but it still left him with a strong feeling of hope for the future.

Deciding to give Rollie a few minutes alone with Angie, he rose.  “I’m going to get some air.  I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

The Aussie nodded, then returned his attention to Angie.  He remained silent for a few seconds, then slowly, quietly began to speak.  “I am so sorry this happened.  I wish that I could be there in your place.  I would do anything to change this.  Anything.  I’d rather die than see you like--”  Rollie’s voice broke.  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I need you, Angie.  You’re a part of me.  I can’t lose you.”  Tears came to his eyes and fell silently on the bedcovers.  He picked up her hand and pressed it against his cheek.  “You have to make it, Angie, because you and I still have plans.  I need you to teach me how to ice skate, remember?  I won’t let you back out of that.  So, you just get all better, and then we can have lots of fun together.  There’s so much stuff that we can do--” Again, his voice broke.  He could speak no more.  It hurt too much.

Rollie laid his head upon Angie’s stomach and closed his eyes, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing.  He knew that, if it stopped, the best part of him would stop as well.

And that is how Manny found his apprentice when he returned a few minutes later.  He gazed at the sleeping Aussie for a long moment, then left the room again.  He returned with a blanket, which he draped over the young man.  For a moment, his hand rested gently upon Rollie’s hair.  He then made himself comfortable in the other chair and, through the remainder of the night, protectively kept watch over the daughter who meant more to him than life and the young man who had become an integral part of that life.

The eagle glided on the air, its outstretched wings effortlessly keeping it aloft.  Rollie watched the graceful bird soaring alone among the clouds.  Then he saw another eagle come up beside it.  He was not sure how he knew, but, somehow, he was certain that the other bird was a female.  The two eagles flew side by side, so close that their wings touched.

Rollie’s perspective changed and he was now standing on a featureless plain.  All around him, a light glowed, coming from nowhere and everywhere.  Out of the light, he saw movement.  Angie came toward him, a smile on her face.  As she approached, she began to grow.  With each step, she gained inches, until she finally stood before him, a grown woman.  In fascination, the Aussie gazed into her eyes of crystalline blue, seeing there a deep and wondrous love.

“I will always be with you,” Angie whispered.

Filled with a love beyond words, Rollie reached out to touch her face.

The Aussie woke with a start.  His head jerked up, and he looked about the room in confusion.  His eyes went to Angie, who still lay as she had the night before.

“Good morning,” said a quiet voice.

Rollie turned to Manny.  “Uh . . . good morning.  Did I fall asleep?”

The F/X artist nodded.  “I don’t think you moved a muscle the entire time.”

The Aussie stretched, instantly regretting it when a lance of pain shot through his shoulder.  “What time is it?”

“A little after six-thirty.”

Rollie looked at Manny’s face.  “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

“I’m all right.  You get used to all-nighters when you’re in my line of work.”  Manny smiled.  “You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“Has there been any change?” Rollie asked, a part of him afraid to learn the answer.

“Not that I know of.  No one’s been in here, except for the occasional nurse.”

The Aussie ran a hand across his face, feeling the rough stubble that had sprouted up overnight.

“There’s a razor for you there on the table, as well as some shaving cream, soap, a toothbrush, and toothpaste,” Manny told him.  “One of the nurses brought the stuff in a little while ago.”

Rollie went to the bathroom and cleaned up, not an easy task with the bandages on his burned hands.  As he looked at himself in the mirror, his thoughts went to the dream he’d had.  It had not felt like an ordinary dream.  Long ago, he had known such dreams, but that time in his life was in the past.  The dream he’d had last night made him think of the Dreaming he’d had as he lay dying after Luther Cale tried to kill him.  He’d had the vision of the blackbird that carried off the Soul Stones and the eagle that brought them back.  In this dream, there had been two eagles.  But what dwelled in Rollie’s mind the most was the image of Angie as a grown woman.  The feelings that had arisen in him were like nothing he’d ever experienced before.  Just thinking about it made him feel warm and content.

Rollie shook himself and finished shaving.  It had just been a dream, that’s all.  Wishing that he had a change of clothes, Rollie left the bathroom and returned to the room.  “Would you like some coffee?” he asked Manny.

“That would be great, thanks.”

The Aussie went in search of the much needed beverage.  Twenty minutes later, he returned with the coffee and English muffins.

The two men ate in silence, neither of them knowing what to say to the other.  Breakfast had just been finished when the door opened to admit Doctor Hayes.

“I have some good news,” he said.  “The swelling in Angie’s brain has stopped and has begun to abate.  It’s only a matter of time now before it’s is gone completely.”

Rollie and Manny both smiled joyfully.  “That’s fantastic,” Manny said.  “She’s going to be all right, then.”

“Her chances are a lot better now than they were before, but there are still no guarantees, Mister Ramirez.  We won’t know anything for sure until she regains consciousness.”

“How long do you think that will be?” Rollie asked.

“There’s no telling.  It could be two hours from now, or two days, or even longer  We’ll be taking her down for a CAT scan in a little while.  I don’t expect there to be any problems, but we have to be sure.”

The CAT scan came back clear, another promising sign.  The anxiety that had been with Manny from the moment the bomb exploded was finally beginning to lessen.  It would not disappear until the moment his daughter opened her eyes and let him know that she was all right.

A short while later, Sam came walking in.  There was worry in his eyes.  “Rollie.  Thank God you’re okay.  I didn’t find out what happened until late last night when Shawn O’Reilly called me.  I called here and they told me how you and Angie were.”  The stuntman looked over at the little girl.  “How’s she doing?”

“Improving.  The doctors are hopeful,” Rollie said.

“That’s great.”  The expression on Sam’s face changed.  “Did Farrell do it?”

“No.  At least, we’re pretty sure he had nothing to do with it.  It looks as if there were two saboteurs all along.  It’s the other guy who’s out for blood.  Farrell was just trying to screw things up for me.”

“Do you have any idea who the other person is?” the stuntman asked.

“Not yet, I’m afraid.”

“When Shawn told me what happened. . . .  That’s the second time in less than a week that you’ve just about given me heart failure.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”  There was not a hint of teasing in Sam’s voice.

The stuntman stayed and talked for about half an hour.  Shortly after he left, Detective Gray stopped by.  He was delighted with the news of Angie’s improvement.

“I’ve just finished going over the log books from the studio.  We decided that the bombs on the set were placed after the one in the light failed, meaning sometime between Thursday afternoon and Friday evening, right?”

Both Rollie and Manny nodded.

“Then, eliminating the employees and crew members who use the time clock at the side gate, there is a total of twenty-three people who were there on the days in question, not counting you.  Eight of the people are studio executives.  Then there are the directors, producers, and other VIP’s who are working on movies being filmed, as well as the owners of three different F/X companies, including Phil Ulrich.”

“What was his excuse for being there after he’d gotten fired?” Manny asked.

“Well, he was supposed to have been there on Wednesday to pick up some equipment he’d left.  He was there again on Thursday, supposedly because he’d heard that a producer for some B-movie was looking for an F/X company who could do stuff cheap, but the producer had already hired someone.  His visit on Saturday was to talk to a safety inspector who’s been at the studio nearly every day since late last week.  I found all this out from the studio.  I haven’t talked to Ulrich himself yet.   Oh, I also noticed that he was there on Monday, too.”

“Yeah, we know about Monday,” Rollie said, thinking about the blowup that had occurred between them and the FX-tra owner.

“Oh?”  There was curiosity in Gray’s voice.

Minimizing the details as much as possible, Rollie explained what happened.

The detective shook his head.  “Is there anything else you two have neglected to tell me?”

“Um, not that I can think of,” the Aussie said, embarrassed.

Gray shook his head again, then gave them a copy of the list.  “Anyway, here are the names.  Look them over and let me know if anyone catches your attention.”  He handed them a second, much longer list.  “This is the list of the regulars--employees and crew members--who were there.  You might glance through it, too.  Farrell is on that list, of course.”

“Tell me something, Detective.  Do you ever have a day off?” Manny asked.

Gray smiled slightly, then he grew very serious.  “I’ll take my days off after this case is closed.  I don’t like the idea of some bomber being out there who doesn’t care who he kills to get what he wants.  Neither does the captain.  This case has been given top priority.  We’ve also put a lid on it in regards to the press, though that was not an easy thing to do.  After the incident with the light, we basically had to order everyone who was at the scene not to talk about it.  The fire was easier since not as many people know what really happened.”

“We really appreciate all the effort you’ve put into this thing,” Manny said.

“Don’t mention it.  Just doing my job.”  The detective glanced over at Angie, his face softening.  “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”  He started to leave, then paused.  “Um, would you like me to bring you guys a change of clothes later?”

Manny smiled in gratitude.  “That would be wonderful.”  He gave the detective a key to the loft.  Gray already knew where a key to Rollie’s apartment was from the last time he was there.

After Gray left, Rollie and Manny sat and looked at the first list, seeing the familiar names of Derrick Bray and AC on it, as well as the director and assistant director of Gangster Alley and several other recognizable names, as would be expected.  The other two F/X company owners were people who were working on movies being film at the studio.  Manny knew that both companies would profit from him going out of business, but he couldn’t imagine either one of them stooping to murder to make it happen.  He knew that he could be wrong about that, but neither person had any apparent reason to want Rollie dead--unless Detective Gray was correct in his idea that the saboteur was targeting Rollie only because his death would be the thing most likely to make Manny quit.  The whole thing was enough to give a person a headache.  He mentioned this to his apprentice.

“You’ve got that right,” Rollie agreed.  “Maybe we should go over what we know.  First it was the car.  Louie Farrell put the holes in the floorboards, so we won’t include that.  The other saboteur rigged the door to lock with a piece of equipment that you wouldn’t be able to find just anywhere, and he placed a timer on the charges under the hood so that they would explode regardless of whether or not you used the remote.”

“Meaning that he purposefully tried to kill you.”

“Right.  But it wasn’t supposed to be me in the car, so we figured that he slipped something to Andy to make him sick, figuring that I’d do the stunt.  Wait a minute, I just thought of something.  How did Louie know that I’d have to do the stunt?  If he looked at the assignment sheet, he’d have known that Andy was scheduled to do it.  I’d better call and have Detective Gray find out.”

Rollie made a call to the station.  The detective had not gotten back there yet, but the person who took the call assured Rollie that Gray would get the message.

“Okay, for now, let’s assume that Louie has no connection to the bomber,” the Aussie said after he’d sat back down.  “From the sabotage of the car, we know that the man has a fair amount of technical knowledge, at least a small amount of medical knowledge--he knew what to give Andy that would make him sick at the right time--and that he knew there was a good chance I would pick up the slack and do the stunt.  That means that he knew I’d done practice runs.  Next comes the bomb in the light.  Again, the bomber somehow knew that I’d be in the helicopter.  We figured that he must have known on Tuesday because it’s the only way that he would have had enough time to set everything up.  He must have planted the bomb first thing Wednesday morning.”

“According to this list, Phil Ulrich wasn’t at the studio on Tuesday at all, so, if he’s the guy, then he must have planted a bug at the loft.  That might be the case anyway,” Manny said.

Rollie nodded. “Well, whoever it is, he has a lot of knowledge of explosives and has no problem with killing half a dozen other people.  With both of these first two attempts, the bomber used devices that didn’t require him to be there when the bomb went off.”

“Which might mean that he was concerned one or both of us would see and recognize him,” Manny reasoned.

“So, he’s someone that one or both of us know, who would have no good reason to be there.  I mean, if there was a legitimate reason that he could be there, then he’d have no reason not to want to be seen, right?  Oh, but wait.  There is another reason why he might have chosen not to use a remote.  If he set the bomb off by remote, he would then have no alibi that placed him away from the scene.”  Rollie thought for a moment.  “Actually, on the car gag, there’s a third possible reason.  We figured that the guy wouldn’t have had a lot of time to prepare for that one.  Even if he overheard me saying that I wanted to do a practice run on the stunt, he would have had maybe four, four and a half hours before the car was loaded up and taken to the dock.  In that time, he would have had to plan out what he was going to do, get whatever he put in Andy’s food and give it to him, get what he needed to set off the explosives, then rig that and the locking mechanism.  Now, a timer would be a lot easier to get than a radio detonator, if he didn’t already have one handy.  He may have figured that he wouldn’t have enough time to get and set up the radio detonator.”

“But he would have had plenty of time to set up for the attempt during the boat gag.”

“Maybe he was so sure that the bomb wouldn’t be found that he didn’t think it would be necessary to set it off by remote and take the chance of being seen.  If it hadn’t been for Louie sabotaging the cable release, it wouldn’t have been seen.  Either that or it’s the alibi thing again.”  Another thought occurred to Rollie.  “Unless he had to be someplace and couldn’t stick around.”

“But everything changed with the bombs on the set,” Manny said, his voice low.

“Yes.  He stood right there and watched Angie, then me, walk right into the blast zone.”  Rollie stopped, thinking of the kind of person it would take to murder a child.  His hands tightened into fists.  He made a silent oath that, no matter what it took, they were going to get the guy.  Suppressing the sudden violence of his thoughts, Rollie continued.  “He must have been hiding where we wouldn’t see him.”

“Do you think he waited until after the shoot was finished instead of doing it while we were setting up because there were too many people around?”

“Probably.  The chances of him being spotted would have been a lot greater when we were setting up.  Also, there was a guard posted outside the door.  Unless he was someone who had a pass for Stage Nine or a VIP pass, he wouldn’t have been able to get in then.  Even if he did have a pass, there would always be the chance that the guard could identify him.  After the filming, though, nearly everyone left, including the guard.  It would have been very easy for him to slip in.”

“I know that the set was finished on Thursday.  After that, he could have walked in there at any time and placed those bombs,” Manny said.

“So, what does all this tell us?  The bomber is someone who can move around the studio freely, meaning that he has an open pass or belongs there.  He’s someone who’s either not a part of Gangster Alley or someone who would stand out if he were on the scene at the time of the attempts.  That rules out anyone on the crew.  He’s someone who doesn’t care how many people he hurts or kills to get what he wants.  For some reason, with this last attempt, he decided to take the chance of being on the scene.  Why?  Is he getting desperate?  Is there some kind of time limit?  Or is it just because he’s getting angrier, and his caution is slipping?”  Rollie sighed.  “We just keep going around in circles here, and we’re no closer to figuring out who this guy is.”  Rollie grew quiet.  He looked over at Angie.  “There is something else that we have to think about.  There really aren’t many other gags we’ll be doing that would give him an opportunity to try again.  With the exception of the gag for blowing the light out of the lighthouse, all the big stuff has been done.  All that’s left are shootings and the car bombing.  What if he decides that, since he can’t get us at the studio, he’ll target us separately or at the loft?”

The F/X artist remained silent, worrying about the possibility that they could now be targets at any time.  He was grateful for the police officer who stood guard outside his daughter’s room.

A nurse came into the room.  She looked at Rollie disapprovingly.

“You’re supposed to be in your room, Mister Tyler, just like you were supposed to be there last night,” she said.

Rollie sighed, having heard similar comments from the nurses last night.  “I promised the doctor that I would return to the hospital.  I did.  I promised that I would wear the sling.  I am.  I didn’t promise that I’d stay in my room all night and day.  Besides, if I’d gone to my room last night, all I would have done is pace all night long.  Wouldn’t you rather have me sleeping in here than not sleeping in there?  You know where I am.  If you have medication to give me, then bring it to me here.  If there’s some stupid regulation that won’t let me stay in this room if I’m a patient, then I’m no longer a patient.  It’s that simple.”

The nurse stared at Rollie for a very long time.  Finally, apparently concluding that the Aussie wasn’t budging, she shrugged her shoulders.  “We need to change those dressings and examine the burns and that shoulder wound.  I’ll be back in a little while.”

Manny smiled.  “When you make up your mind about something, you’re about as immovable as a mountain, aren’t you.”

Rollie returned the smile.  “I get that from my mother.  Dad used to claim that her determination bore a striking resemblance to Uluru, Ayer’s Rock.”

The nurse returned.  Manny watched from his chair as the bandages were removed.  The puncture wound in his shoulder had been stitched up and appeared to be healing nicely.  Rollie’s arms and back had only first and second degree burns, but his hands had a couple of nasty burns that were close to being third degree.  Seeing again what Rollie had suffered during his rescue of Angie, brought a feeling of distress to Manny and deepened his gratitude to the young man.

Once the nurse had finished and left, Rollie and Manny’s conversation turned to sports and small talk.  They were interrupted by a nurse, who said there was a phone call for them at the nurse's station.  Rollie answered it.

“This is Detective Gray.  I got your message.  I asked Farrell about it, and he claims that he didn’t know that the other stuntman was scheduled to do the stunt.  He says that he followed you after some gag you did with him and saw you doing practice runs in the car.  He assumed that you were going to be doing the stunt.”

“That’s possible.  Thinking about it, I now remember that I caught a glimpse of someone watching.  I didn’t think much about it at the time.”

“Well, I’m not going to discount the possibility that Farrell is involved with the other saboteur.  The bail hearing is tomorrow morning.  I’m going to try to convince the judge not to set bail.  I do not want that guy back out on the streets.”

The rest of the day passed quietly as Rollie and Manny waited for some sign of Angie regaining consciousness.  Nurses occasionally came in, sometimes to check on Angie, other times, Rollie.  Doctor Hayes periodically showed up to give them updates.  The swelling was steadily reducing, giving everyone even more hope that Angie was going to be all right.  Detective Gray stopped by briefly to give them the clothes he’d fetched.  He’d brought two changes of clothes for each of them.  The two men immediately got out of the clothing they were wearing.

It was snowing again.  Rollie looked out at the flakes falling like motes of brightness in the darkness of night.  A sudden, crazy thought popped into his head.

“I’ll be right back,” Rollie said, slipping on his coat.

Manny watched him leave, wondering what had brought on the smile that had flashed across the Aussie’s face.

A few minutes later, Rollie returned.  In his hand, was a melting snowball.  The Aussie immediately went to Angie’s bedside.

“Hey, Ange, it’s snowing.  Wake up, sleepyhead.  I want a rematch on the snowball fight,” Rollie said.  “Here, I’ll even give you the first shot.”  He placed the snow in Angie’s hand.

For a long time, nothing happened, then, as Manny watched in amazement and joy, Angie’s fingers slowly curled around the snowball.

“Ange?  Can you hear me, sweetheart?” the F/X artist asked.

A tiny, wordless sound came from her.  Her head moved slightly.  Angie’s eyelids quivered, then opened and closed.  Afraid to say anything, afraid even to breathe, Manny kept his eyes on his daughter’s face.  Again, her eyes opened.  She stared up at the ceiling, her gaze unfocused.

“Angie?  Hey, baby.  We’re here.  We’re both here.”  Manny’s voice was trembling.  His hand latched onto her empty one.

Slowly, Angie turned toward him.  Manny smiled down at her and stroked her bandaged head.  A big grin on his face, Rollie pressed the call button.  A few seconds later, a nurse came in.  She immediately saw what was happening and went to get the doctor.  Rollie moved out of the way as Doctor Hayes came in.  The doctor saw the snow, but made no comment.

“Well, hello there, young lady.  My name is Doctor Hayes.  Can you tell me what your name is?”

Angie turned toward him and looked confusedly up at him.  Her grasp on her father’s hand tightened.

“Come on, you can tell me your name, can’t you?” the doctor prompted again.

Another sound came from her throat, but no words.

Rollie stepped up beside the doctor.  Angie’s gaze immediately moved to him.  “Hi, sweetie.  What’s the matter?  Don’t remember your name?” Rollie asked.  He smiled down at her and winked.

Angie eyes remained fixed on Rollie’s.  “Ann...an..g-ie,” came a faint whisper.

Tears came to Manny’s eyes at the sound of his daughter’s voice.

“Hello, Angie,” Doctor Hayes greeted.  “I’m going to ask you some questions and have you do some things.  Now, you take as long as you need to.  There’s no rush.”

The doctor asked several questions, waiting patiently as Angie slowly, haltingly answered them, her voice growing firmer as the moments passed.  He then tested her motor functions by having her do a few simple things like lift her arm and wiggle her toes.  After a few minutes, Angie’s eyelids grew heavy and she slipped back into a deep sleep.

Doctor Hayes straightened.  There was a smile on his face.

“Is she going to be all right?” Rollie asked.

“Things are looking very promising.  We’ll know more in the next day or so, but I think she’s going to be just fine,” the doctor replied.  He looked down at the puddle of melted snow on the floor and the bed.  Another smile came to his face.  “So, whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” Rollie admitted.  “Sorry.  It just popped into my head.”

“Don’t apologize.  The sudden sensation of cold is probably what woke her up.”  The doctor looked down at the damp bandages on Rollie’s hands.  “Those will need to be changed.  Angie will most likely sleep for the rest of the night.  We’ll run some more tests tomorrow.”

After the doctor had left, Rollie’s and Manny’s eyes met.  “She’s going to be all right,” Manny murmured.

Rollie nodded, his throat tight with emotion.  His hand came out and squeezed the F/X man’s shoulder.  Suddenly, he was pulled into a tight embrace.  Rollie returned the hug, blinking back the tears.

“Thank you,” Manny whispered.

The two men drew apart, neither one of them feeling any embarrassment over the embrace.  A couple of minutes later, a nurse came in to change Rollie’s bandages and Angie’s top sheet and blanket, which had both gotten wet.  As she was leaving, Rollie’s attending physician walked in.

“I hear you’ve been refusing to return to your room and rest, Mister Tyler.  I’ve been looking at your chart, and, since you don’t seem to want any further attention from us, I’m discharging you.”

Rollie looked at the doctor, feeling slightly guilty for the trouble he’d been causing the hospital staff.  They’d only been doing their jobs.  “I’m sorry about being difficult, I just . . . I had to be here with Angie.”

The doctor nodded.  “Visiting hours will be over soon.  You’ll have to leave then, of course.”

Rollie suffered a moment of panic.  “But why can’t I stay?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s against hospital policy.  Only immediate family can stay after hours.”

“Rollie is family,” Manny said.

Both Rollie and the doctor turned to the F/X artist.  “What is his relationship?” the doctor asked.

“He’s not a blood relative, but, in the event of my death, he will be my daughter’s legal guardian.  I’d say that’s about as close to being family as you can get without being related by blood or marriage.”

Rollie stared at Manny, surprised at what the man was doing.

The doctor also stared at Manny.  “I see,” he said finally.  He turned back to Rollie.  “Well, it’s probably stretching the rules to let you stay, but we’ve already done that a few times in your case.  I guess once more won’t matter.  I’ll have someone bring in some pillows and blankets.  Those burns of yours will still need some attention from time to time, Mister Tyler, but that can be done as an outpatient.  I’ll also see about writing you prescriptions for antibiotics and pain relief.”

Once the door had shut behind the doctor, Rollie turned back to the F/X man.  “You didn’t have to do that, Manny.”

“Yes, I did.  I know how much you want to stay, Rollie.  After what you did for Angie and for me, there isn’t anything I could do for you that would be too much.  Besides, what I said is true, even if it isn’t official.  I still intend to put you in my will as Angie’s guardian.  I’m even more certain of that than I was before.”

Later that night, Rollie made up a bed on the floor.  He figured that it would be more comfortable for his lengthy frame than the chair.  He went to sleep with a smile on his face, thinking about the two people who had adopted him into their lives.
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN -- TOUGH CHOICES

Rollie awoke, sitting suddenly upright.  He looked wildly about the room, then, realizing that he’d only been dreaming, he relaxed.  He ran a shaking hand through his hair.  Whew!  What a nightmare!  In it, he was being pursued by a dark figure that kept blowing things up, killing everyone that Rollie loved.  In the end, he’d been left to face the evil specter alone and weaponless, with the blood of all the people the creature had killed staining Rollie’s hands.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, Rollie got up and went to the bathroom, trying not to disturb Manny.  He washed his face, letting the hot water dispel the lingering traces of the terror of his dream.  Between the pain of his injuries and his worries over the unknown bomber, he hadn’t slept well.  The thought of a nice warm bed and a couple of days to do nothing but sleep sounded wonderful.  But that would have to wait until after the bomber had been caught.

Rollie shaved and changed clothes.  When he returned to the room, he quietly moved his chair over beside Angie’s bed.  As he sat watching her, his thumb stroked the back of the hand he held in his.  Whether it was the touch or something else that did it, Angie stirred and opened her eyes.  Rollie leaned toward her and smiled.

“Hi there.  How’s my best girl?” Rollie asked softly.

Angie gazed into his eyes, then she looked down at the sling and the bandages covering his arms and hands.

“Oh, don’t worry about those.  I just got a bit burnt around the edges, that’s all,” Rollie assured her.  “I’ll be fine.  You’re going to be fine, too.”

“Don’t . . . re..member,” Angie said, her voice whispery.

“Well, that’s understandable, Ange.  You got a pretty good clunk on the head.”  He smiled.  “You missed all the action, you know.  I did a pretty fair imitation of the courageous knight braving the fiery dragon’s breath to save the fair damsel.  Too bad you missed it.”

A little smile came to Angie’s lips, warming Rollie’s heart.  The sight of her smiling was the most wonderful thing in the world.  It made everything else seem unimportant.

Angie’s eyes moved away from him.  Rollie followed her gaze and saw that Manny was awake and standing at the foot of the bed.  The man went over to the opposite side of the bed and took his daughter’s other hand.

“Hello, sweetheart.  How are you feeling this morning?” Manny asked.

“Head . . . hurts,” Angie replied.

Manny laid a gentle hand on her head.  “Well, we’ll get the doctors to take care of that right away.  They’ll make you all better.”

Rollie went out and let the nurses know that Angie had awakened.  The doctor who came in examined Angie and asked her some questions.

“She’s doing remarkably well,” she told Rollie and Manny afterwards.  “She’s alert and responsive, her motor functions appear to be intact, and there does not seem to be any cognitive or memory impairment, except, of course, for her inability to remember the events prior to the injury, which is to be expected.  The slight hesitation in her speech will most likely improve over the next few days, but it is possible that she may require some help from a speech therapist.  There’s no cause for concern, though.  I see no reason not to expect a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Doctor.  That’s great news,” Manny said.

The doctor left.  The nurse who had come in with her increased the level of Angie’s pain medication, then left as well.

Angie had heard only portions of the doctor’s low-pitched conversation with the two men, but she’d heard enough to realize that she must have gotten hit on the head pretty hard.  Her hand slowly went up to her head, feeling the bandages.  Manny, knowing that the presence of the bandages might distress his daughter, sat beside her and began to explain what had happened.

“It turns out that there are two different saboteurs.  Louie Farrell wasn’t the man who planted the bombs.  All he did was drill the holes in the floorboards of the car and a couple of other things meant to screw things up.  The man who’s been trying to kill Rollie is someone else.  He put several bombs on the house set.  One went off and you got hurt.  We think that a piece of wood or something hit you.  Rollie rescued you from the fire, and you were taken to the hospital.  They had to operate on your head, but you’re going to be fine.”

“My . . . hair?”

“I’m afraid they had to cut it off, sweetheart, but it’ll grow back in no time, just as pretty as ever.”

Angie looked about ready to cry at the thought that her hair had all been cut off.  It had not been cut since the day they left Cuba.  Rollie, seeing her eyes cloud up, stepped forward.

“Hey, Ange.  Don’t be upset about the hair.”  He leaned forward.  “Personally, I think that bald women are a real turn on,” he murmured.

A smile brightened Angie’s face.  Rollie returned the smile, then placed a kiss on her forehead.

Visiting hours had no sooner started when the door opened and a police officer stuck his head in.  “There’s an AC Bobb here to see you,” he said.

Manny smiled and nodded.  The officer stood aside to let the producer pass.  AC’s eyes immediately went to the bed.  When he saw Angie awake and smiling at him, he visibly relaxed.

“Hey, Swee. . . .”  The producer briefly glanced at Rollie.  “Hey, honey.  Are you doing okay?”  He squeezed her hand.

Angie nodded, happy that AC was there, especially since he was finally going to stop calling her Sweet Potato.

The producer turned to Rollie and Manny.  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.  I had to take an unexpected trip to Boston--an investor having sudden doubts--and I didn’t get back until late yesterday morning.  I can’t believe that no one called me.  Then, when I did get back, I got bombarded with frantic people.  Derrick is just about apoplectic, the studio is panicking, wondering what’s going to blow up next, and the insurance people are screaming.  I had to call in every favor I have at the studio to keep them from kicking us out.”

“AC, I am so sorry,” Manny said.  He paused, glancing at his daughter.  He didn’t want to upset her in her condition, and what he was going to say would definitely upset her.  “You know, I’m a bit on the hungry side.  Ange, would you mind if Rollie, AC and I went down to the cafeteria?  We wouldn’t be gone long.”

Angie looked at her father, suspecting that he wanted more than just something to eat.  She had a feeling that he wanted to talk to AC about something.  Whatever it was, he didn’t want her to know about it.  She knew, though, that he would tell her eventually.  He never kept things from her for long, not if it was something important.

“Go eat,” Angie said.

Manny went over and kissed her on the forehead.  “Get some rest while we're gone,” he told her.

One of the two police officers who were stationed outside Angie’s room accompanied them to the cafeteria.  The guard had been doubled after Detective Gray found out that Sam had gotten into the room unchallenged because the officer on duty had gone to the restroom.  He also wanted to make sure that both Rollie and Manny were covered at all times.  Their bodyguard posted himself just inside the cafeteria door as the two F/X men got their food.  AC had already eaten.  The three men found a table, and Manny began speaking the words that had been running through his mind since the fire.  “This thing can’t go on.  I’m going to quit the picture.  In fact, I am seriously thinking of quitting the business.  It isn’t worth it.  It isn’t worth someone’s life.”

“Manny, please don’t do that,” AC pleaded.  “That business is your life.”

“Angie is my life, AC, and my decision not to quit back when I first considered it almost got her and Rollie killed.  Next time, we might not be so lucky.  I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Manny, I understand how you feel, but there is something you need to consider,” Rollie said.  “If this bomber is doing these things to make you quit and you do, then he’ll have gotten what he wanted.  The sabotage will stop, any evidence will disappear, and we’ll never find out who he is.  He’ll get away with it.”

“I’d rather have that than have someone die at his hands, Rollie.”

“And what’s to prevent him from doing this to someone else somewhere down the road?  We have to catch him, Manny.  We have to, and the only way we’ll be able to do that is to make him try again.”

“We tried to catch him the last time, and all we managed to do was catch Farrell,” Manny pointed out.  “He outsmarted us, Rollie.  He’s been one step ahead of us the whole way.”

“I know.  I’ve been thinking about that, and I really believe that he must have bugged the loft.  It’s the only way that he could have known what our plans were and what wasn’t being covered.  But the loft is clean now, and we can sweep it again when we go back there.  He’s operating at a disadvantage now.  He isn’t going to know what our plans are.  I really think that we can catch him this time, especially if what I suspect is true.”

“And what’s that?” AC asked.

“Well, think about it.  Each of his attacks has gotten progressively more destructive.  The sabotage of the car would have only killed me.  It failed, and his next attempt went a whole lot farther.  The bomb in the light would have killed a total of seven people.  This last attempt could have killed even more since he would have had no way of predicting how many grips would stay to help us and to clean up.  What this tells me is that either the guy is totally losing it or. . . .”

“Or what?” Manny asked.

“Or he’s getting desperate.  What if this isn’t just being done out of revenge?  What if there’s something coming up that he doesn’t want us around for?  Or what if there’s something hanging in the balance that time is running out on?  I haven’t thought everything through, but I think that there might be something more to this than him wanting to get even.  Of course, I could be wrong.”

“It does make sense, though,” Manny admitted.  “But how does this help us?  If he is getting desperate, then that’s just going to make him even more dangerous.  He could try almost anything now.”

“Well, so far, he’s only made his attempts while we’re on the job.  Why, I don’t know.  He could easily have planted a bomb in the loft.  We’ve learned from his last attempt that he’s willing to kill all three of us, if necessary.  So, why does he keep hitting us while we’re working?  Again, I think that he was originally planning on only killing me while I was on a gag, figuring that would be enough.  But, as each attempt has failed, he’s grown more willing to go all the way.  I think, though, that if he was given an opportunity to go back to his original plan, he’d take it.”

“I understand what you’re saying, and I don’t think I like it,” Manny said.  “You’re planning on leaving yourself open for him to kill you, aren’t you.”

“It may be the only way to catch him,” the Aussie stated.  “Now, I don’t have everything worked out yet, but I think I can figure out a way of setting another trap for this guy.”

“With you as the bait,” Manny said, his voice full of concern.

Rollie and Manny ate their breakfast, then returned with AC and the officer to Angie’s room.  The producer stayed and chatted for a little while.  Shortly after he left, Detective Gray called to say that he was successful in getting the judge to refuse to set bail for Louie Farrell.

“Actually, it wasn’t really all that tough.  Once the judge heard all the details of what Farrell was under suspicion for, he decided right off that the danger was too great to let him out.”

“I bet Louie is about ready to spit nails now,” Rollie commented, chuckling.

“He wasn’t too happy, that’s for sure.”

Upon returning to the room, Rollie relayed to Manny and Angie what the detective had said. Angie watched him as he talked.  She’d already figured out that she must have been hurt a lot worse than what everyone was letting on.  She was also beginning to suspect that there was a lot more to Rollie’s rescue of her than just pulling her out of a fire.  All the bandages and the sling told her that.  There was also a tiredness on his face and in his eyes that worried her.  He looked worn out.  Angie’s motherly instincts arose in her.

“You . . . should sleep,” she said.

“I’m all right.  Just a little tired,” Rollie assured her.

Angie frowned.  He was being stubborn again.  Why were men always so stubborn?  Well, she could be stubborn, too.  “No, sleep,” she said adamantly.  She didn’t want him to leave, though.  She wanted him to stay there.  Angie’s hand patted the bed beside her.

Rollie looked at her.  “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you.”

Angie’s head shook slightly.

The Aussie turned to Manny, who had an amused smile on his face.  “And I suppose that you’re not going to help me out either,” he said.

“Hey, I learned a long time ago not to argue with her when she’s like this.  You are on your own.”

Rollie sighed.  “Oh, all right.  I’ll just sit in the chair and close my eyes for a bit.”

“Rollie.”  There was a tone in Angie’s voice, that warning tone that a mother gets when her child is not doing what she told him to.  She knew that he wouldn’t get any rest in that tiny, uncomfortable chair.  Her hand patted the bed again.

“Angie, this is a hospital.  The doctors will have a fit if they find me asleep in your bed.”

“I don’t care,” Angie stated.

“There really isn’t enough room for both of us.”

She just stared at him.

Rollie looked at her and realized that this was a losing battle.  He might as well just surrender.  Sighing again, Rollie took off his shoes and lay down on the bed beside Angie, just barely managing to fit.  He turned on his side to face her so that he was not putting pressure on the burns on his back and the shoulder wound.

“You really don’t give up, do you,” he murmured, his eyes smiling at her.

“Nope,” Angie replied.

“Well, I’m just going to take a little nap.  Half an hour, that’s all,” he said.  He closed his eyes.  Ten seconds later, he was sound asleep.

Manny got Rollie’s blanket and spread it over him.  He gave his daughter a smile and a wink.  “I’ll be back in a few,” he whispered.

Angie watched her father leave, then returned her attention to Rollie.  She studied his face, lying so close to hers.  He looked like a young boy, hardly older than her.  Angie reached out and gently touched his cheek.  Then she slipped her hand into his, shifted closer to him, and laid her head against his.  Happy and content, Angie drifted off to sleep.

Manny returned a few minutes later.  He smiled down at the two sleeping people.  He then made himself comfortable and began reading the paperback novel he’d just purchased at the hospital gift shop.  A nurse came in about an hour later.  She looked in surprise at the bed’s double occupancy.  The woman’s gaze turned to Manny, her eyebrows raising.  Manny smiled at her and put a finger to his lips.  She smiled back and nodded in understanding.  Taking note of the monitor readings, the nurse left without a word.  A few minutes passed, then Sam showed up.  The look on his face was a match for the one the nurse had worn.  Manny went out into the hall with him.

“So, now you’ve got two sleeping beauties, eh?” the stuntman commented with a grin.  Then he grew serious.  “I’m glad to see him getting some sleep.  That kid’s got more energy than anyone I know.  He sometimes forgets that he needs to rest on occasion.  I remember a time when Rollie, Rick Forsythe and I were on location in the Congo, and Rollie got a bad case of malaria.  He was as sick as a dog, but do you think we could get him to take it easy?  Fat chance!”  Sam grinned.  “We finally had to slip some sleeping pills into the juice we gave him.  He was pretty mad at us when he woke up, but it was worth it.”

Sam’s smile faded away.  “Manny, I . . . wanted to thank you for looking out for him like you have been and, well, making him feel like a part of your family.  He doesn’t talk much about his family.  In fact, almost never.  I got the feeling that there was something about the way his mom died that was very traumatic for him.  And that no account father of his hasn’t helped things.  You know that during these two years I’ve known Rollie, not once has the guy shown up?  Not once!  Rollie doesn’t know this, but I was there when he told his father that he was going to become a stuntman full time.  He wanted Dingo to stay here with him for a while, spend some time with him that didn’t have something to do with ‘business’.  But his father said that he needed to get to some damn flea market in North Carolina or some such place.  Well, Rollie just said, ‘Yeah, okay,’ and went off to do his next stunt.  But, the look on that boy’s face. . . .  I wanted to punch that pitiful excuse for a father right in the mouth.  I’ve never had any kids myself, but . . . well, you’re a father.  How can a man just go off and leave his son like that, especially when he’s got such a great kid like Rollie?”

“I don’t know, Sam.  I can’t begin to understand it.  All I can say is that the man has no idea how lucky he is.”  There was a short silence.  “AC was here earlier, but I forgot to ask him how bad the damage was to Stage Nine.”

“Well, the building itself escaped damage.  The set was completely destroyed, though.  The place is a mess.  I’m sure glad I don’t have that clean up job.  Well, I guess I’ll get going and let our boy sleep.  He’s had a hard week and a half.”

Manny went back in the room.  He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at Rollie, full of sorrow for what the young man had gone through in his life.  Manny had been blessed with growing up in a large, loving family, with a mother who was always there for him and a father who was never too busy to take time out for his kids.  It angered him when he thought of the way that Rollie’s father seemed so uninterested in his own son, except for how the boy could help him in his business.  Manny then berated himself, knowing that he was probably doing the man an injustice.  Perhaps, it was just that Dingo had his own life and his own way of living it, and that way was simply too different from the direction that Rollie had chosen to go.  Even so, the man was an idiot.  Manny knew that if he had a son, especially one like Rollie, he would cherish every moment with him.  He would not let anything come between them.

It was after noon by the time Rollie awoke.  When Manny told him what time it was, the Aussie told him that he should have been awakened sooner.

“Why?” Manny asked.  “Nothing earth-shattering has happened in the last few hours.  You needed the sleep, Rollie.  I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you.”

“Well, yeah, but I feel kind of guilty sleeping half the day away.  I’ve got to come up with a way to catch that bomber before he decides to strike at us again.”

“And you’ll be able to think more clearly now that you’ve gotten some sleep.  Oh, Sam stopped by.  He didn’t want to disturb you, so it was just a quick visit.”

The Aussie carefully got out of the bed so as to not disturb Angie.  He then moved his chair over by Manny’s and sat down.  He looked at the cover of the book the F/X artist was holding.  Part of the illustration was a scene of a house being destroyed in a huge explosion.  The picture reminded him of what had happened on the set.  Not yet ready to turn his thoughts to their troubles with the unknown bomber, he decided to ask a question that he’d been wondering about for some time.

“How did you get involved with F/X, Manny?”

The special effects artist smiled slightly.  “Well, that’s a bit of a story.  My parents had always wanted me to go to college in the U.S., but, with relations the way they were between the two countries, that was not something easily gotten.  My father had some important connections in Castro’s government.  He used them to get me over here.  It was during the big emigration of Cuban refugees to the U.S., so I was just another Cuban face in the huge crowd, except that I planned on returning.

“While I was in college, I became fascinated with film.  Then I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I was hooked.  I knew in that moment that special effects was what I wanted to do.  I got a part-time job with Dean Effects.  I’d been there maybe four months when I caught George Dean’s eye.  I guess he saw some potential in me.  He took me under his wing and really taught me a lot.  When I graduated, he offered me a full-time job.  But I was homesick.  All of my family was in Cuba.  So, I turned him down and went back home.  I hadn’t been back very long when I began to miss the work.  With the help of my father’s connections, we arranged for me to travel to the U.S. every summer.  I again went to work for George.”

Manny smiled.  “Then, one day, George sat me down to talk.  I can still remember the exact words he spoke.  ‘Manny, you have the potential of being a great F/X artist, but it’s never going to happen if you keep doing things the way you are now.  It’s time for you to make a choice.’  He told me that he was ready to offer me a high position in the company, the chance to take complete control of F/X projects, if I was willing to spend most of my time in the U.S.  It was the chance of a lifetime, and I took it.  But I still could not bear the thought of moving here permanently and leaving my family.  So, I decided to stay in the U.S. only while I was doing a movie and live in Cuba all other times.  After that, things really started happening.  I met my wife here and took her home.  A few months later, she became pregnant--a wonderful blessing, since she had been told that there was a good chance she would not be able to conceive.  Angie was born, and it seemed that life couldn’t get much better.”

The F/X artist paused, a look of sadness passing over his face.  “But then, in ‘76, George died.  After that, it just wasn’t the same at Dean Effects.  I decided to start my own company with the money that he had left me in his will.  I’d met and worked with AC in the past, and he was nice enough to give me my first contract.  After that, things really picked up.”  There was another pause, and a much deeper sadness came to Manny’s face.  “It all fell apart, though, the day my father died.  All at once, I was no longer privileged, and all the trips I’d been taking to the U.S. were suddenly under suspicion.  Things got very bad, very quickly.  I realized that we had to get out, but, even if there weren’t already exit restrictions, it would have been impossible for us to get out of Cuba on our own.”  A terrible anger arose in Manny’s eyes.  “An official in the military offered us . . . a deal.  I knew that, if we all stayed, I would probably be killed, my wife would very likely be imprisoned and Angie would be taken away.  So, we took the deal.”  There was a look of guilt and self-hatred in his eyes before the lids closed and hid them.

Rollie looked at his friend and employer, wondering what the deal was that Manny had accepted.  He would not ask.  If Manny chose not to tell him, then it would remain unknown.

There was a sound from the bed, and both men turned to see Angie awaken.  They got up and went to her.

“Good afternoon, Angie.  Did you have a nice nap?” Rollie asked.

Angie nodded.  “Did you?” she asked Rollie.

The Aussie smiled.  “Yes, I had a very good nap.  I feel much better now.”

“Good.”

While Rollie went to fetch Manny and himself some lunch, Angie decided to take the opportunity to find out more of what happened after the bomb went off.  When she asked the question, Manny remained silent for so long that she was afraid he wasn’t going to answer.  Then he began to speak.  He told her how Rollie chose to brave the fire rather than escape when he had the chance, how the Aussie somehow saved her when the roof fell in--though Manny did not know how--and carried her, unconscious, up the stairs.  Then he talked about how Rollie leaped across the gapping hole in the balcony, of how, when the rest of the balcony collapsed, they hung over the wreckage for terrible moments before Rollie pulled them up onto the wall, and, finally, of how the Aussie leapt, with her in his arms, to the house front facade.  As Manny finished, Angie lay in stunned silence.  It was like some scene from a movie, something that people think could never happen in real life.

“He . . . did all . . . that?” she asked.

“Yes, he did.”

“Wow,” was all she could think of saying.

Manny smiled.  “I think that’s a pretty good word to describe it.”

When Rollie returned, Angie kept her eyes glued on him as he placed the tray of food on the table.  Noticing the stare, the Aussie looked at her questioningly.

“Did . . . something happen?” he asked.

“Come here,” Angie commanded.

Rollie walked over to stand beside the bed.  Angie held up her arms.  Pausing only momentarily, the Aussie leaned over and was enfolded in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Angie whispered.

Realizing that Manny must have told her the details of the rescue, Rollie returned the hug.  Then his eyes met hers.  “You were worth it,” he murmured.  Then a bright smile spread over his face, “Besides, I still haven’t forgotten our deal about you teaching me how to ice skate.”

Angie giggled, then released him so that he could go eat.

As they ate, Rollie and Manny chatted with Angie and each other about simple, unimportant things, not wanting to turn their attention to the serious business of the bomber.  At last, all three of them fell silent.

“I’m going to go take a walk, think things through,” Rollie said.  “I’ll be back in a while.”

Manny watched him leave, concerned about the danger that the Aussie’s plans might put the young man in.  When he turned back to his daughter, he saw that she was watching him closely.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it,” she said, her voice still hesitating slightly between the words and syllables, though not nearly as much as when she first awoke.

Manny knew that he couldn’t tell his daughter about Rollie’s plans to make himself an open target.  It would be too upsetting, considering her condition, but he had to tell her something.  Choosing his words carefully, he answered Angie’s question.  “Rollie is trying to think of a way to catch the bomber, but, no matter how we do it, it could get dangerous.  We’ll be sure that there are plenty of police around, though.”

As always, Angie could tell that her father wasn’t telling her everything.  She could also tell that, even if she pushed him, he would refuse to say anything more.  She had a feeling that whatever plan Rollie came up with, it would put him in a lot of danger.

“It’ll be okay,” Angie said, trying to convince both her father and herself.

The cold air bit into Rollie as he walked slowly down the street.  His bodyguard walked a few paces behind him.  If the Aussie tried very hard, he could almost forget that the man was there--but not quite.

He’d been out there for thirty minutes, and no brilliant flash of inspiration had struck.  All the plans he came up with would put other people besides him in danger, something that was not acceptable.  He was not going to risk anyone else’s life but his own.

“Mister Tyler?” the officer called, a note of warning in his voice.

Rollie turned to see a man walking hurriedly toward him, a piece of paper in his hands.  The cop quickly put himself between Rollie and the man and placed his hand on the handle of his gun.  The man, seeing this, paused.

“May I help you, sir?” the officer asked.

“Uh, I’m looking for Roland Tyler.  I was told that he was out here.”

Surprised, Rollie stared at the man.  No one ever called him Roland.  “I’m Roland Tyler,” he said.

“Sir, I have a subpoena here for you.”  The man took a few hesitant steps forward, holding the paper out in front of him.

“A subpoena?  What for?” Rollie asked, surprised.  He took the document.

“I don’t know, sir.  I’m only paid to deliver them.”

As the man left, Rollie opened the subpoena.  His brows lowered in confusion, then lifted in surprise.  He looked at his bodyguard.  “We’re going back inside.  I need to make a call.”

Back in the hospital, the Aussie found a pay phone and a phone book.  He quickly found the number he was searching for and made the call.  Ten minutes later, he was off the phone and looking for a place to sit down.  He lowered himself onto a padded bench beside the phone booth.

“Sir?  Are you all right?” the cop asked in concern.

“Huh?”  Rollie looked up at him distractedly.  “Oh.  Yes, I’m okay.”  His eyes slid away from the officer’s as he absorbed the information he’d just been given.  All at once, all the pieces were falling into place, and the picture they created made Rollie’s mind reel in shock.

Standing, Rollie quickly made his way up to Angie’s room.

By the look on the Aussie’s face when he entered, both Manny and Angie knew that something big had happened.

“What’s wrong?  You look like somebody sucker punched you,” the F/X artist commented.

“I know who the bomber is, Manny, and the reason for everything that’s happened . . . and I also know how we’re going to catch him.”
 

CHAPTER TWENTY -- FACE TO FACE

“But, Papa, I have to be there,” Angie said pleadingly.<