I watch Elena's plane land, shuddering to a halt on the tarmac like it's just done fucking. Then I turn away from the thick glass window and go back to waiting. She'll still need to go through security and passport control and all the other unnecessary shit California implemented after it split off. But really, who would be trying to smuggle themselves into Cali?

I've always had an affinity for airports. Part because the air around them is as dirty a nun in her bedroom, part because the bars inside them are as dingy as anything you can find in the city -- so I don't really mind waiting.

It'd been three days since I'd spoken to Elena and she'd agreed to meet me. Not the earliest flight she could have caught, but the earliest she was willing to. Had to arrange a few things, she'd said, like someone to look after her pomeranian.

Two days ago I'd gotten the news that another Storm had passed away. No suspicious circumstances, just sad ones. Ethan was a couple of years older than me and had been born in the aftermath of a devastating drought. Nice kid, back when I'd known him.

He'd been Sue's counterpart, in a way. Sue controlled water, but Ethan could turn water to salt. They'd had a friendly rivalry once-upon-a-time, Sue trying to send more at him than he could deal with, and him always dealing with it. His death was bound to be another blow to her.

An aneurysm got him.

Alone in his apartment. Probably lay there on his carpet alive for a little, rolling around, hopin' someone would walk in and save him.

Of course, no one did.

Aneurysm. Neighbour had found him. Journalists were unanimous in their printed headlines for cause-of-death. But it's another body added to the list of deceased Storms, and that's some food for thought.

I take a deep meditative breath.

There's a young guy with cropped hair, a few seats away from me at the bar. He catches me catching him staring, and buries his head into his paper. I spend the next couple of minutes trying to figure out if he's got one of those familiar-type faces, or if I do actually know him.

And why was he looking at me anyway?

Paranoia. I musta contracted it down the phone line when talking to Elena. Amazing how these things spread.

Like wildfire.

Like the fire Rupert's keeping inside him. Can't smother it, can only contain.

Shut up, Sammy. The kid was looking at you 'cause your face still looks like raw meat. That's all. You never stared at a freak? Jesus, you're wound tighter than your Rolex.

I glance at the watch -- I might have paid over the odds for something that a ten-dollar knock-off could do just as well, but it's keeping time and that's what matters to me.

Elena's wheeling a black leather looking suitcase down the new arrivals lobby when I find her. She's dressed casual and that almost threw me off. Jeans, white top, leather jacket, hair loose. Wouldn't guess her as a one-time government lackey.

"Hey. Can I take your suitcase, madam?"

Elena stops, looks at me, then does something unexpected: takes her hands off the suitcase and wraps her arms around me in an embrace. I barely know Elena, and our relationship had been professional, at best. All the same, I like the warmth of her body and how her neck smells like roses.

"Good to see you again," she says, breaking the hug and stepping back. "God, you look so much better than last time I saw you! So much. Did the surgeons do that? They work miracles, don't they!?"

I shake my head, pleased with her reaction. "Nah, no surgeon. I heal up pretty good all by myself."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. "Wow. Really? That's kind of incredible." She flashes me a smile showing perfect teeth. "It's good to see you again, Sammy."

"It's good to see you too," I reply, meaning it. Finding myself surprised to be meaning it. "Still got that bit of dirt on your face though. Really should wash it off."

She winks playfully. "I think you like it really."

"Maybe I do."

I grab her case before she can object, lifting it -- not wheeling. Then feeling stupid for doing it, as if I'm trying to demonstrate my masculinity. Me man, me very strong. You woman, you impressed by strong. Dipshit.

"So, you got yourself fired?" I think I've judged her mood right so that the question won't set her off. Might seem charming, even.

"Let go of, more so. I'm pretty sure the higher-ups knew that the Storm Guards were finished a long time ago. There weren't many hires after me, you see, and a lot of contracts were terminated before mine was."

I give an understanding nod. We're not even out of the airport when the next question on my tongue falls off it. "What happened to the baby, Elena?"

She looks around. There are barely a handful of people waiting, and only a few others walking past with luggage.

"Can we go somewhere more private before we get into it?"

I keep the unease below the surface for a little longer. "Sure, yeah. But... Do you really think someone might be trying to listen in?"

"No. Not really. But, you know how it is, right? Can never be too careful."

"However you want to play it," I say. For now, I add silently.

We leave the airport and grab ourselves a taxi. I heave the luggage into the trunk then clamber into the back with Elena. I reel off my address to the driver, but Elena says, "No. Not your place. Somewhere more... Just not yours."

She thinks they've got my line tapped too. Either that, or she doesn't trust being alone with me. Which wouldn't be stupid of her, I guess.

"I know a nice little bar we can talk in. Won't be hardly no one in it at this time of day. How about that?"

"Sure. Might be good to talk over a coffee anyway."

"I'm not sure you'll like the coffees they do in this place. But it does have a snooker table," I add, to soften the blow.

The taxi pulls away and I reckon we've got a good fifteen minutes to kill. I drink Elena in for a moment. "You look good outside of your suit."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Statement."

"Thanks anyway." Her face hardens, becomes serious, but is tinged with just the right amount of sadness. "Hey, did you hear about Ethan?"

I nod. "Yeah. Guess the stress of everything changing got to him. It's the only life he knew. Only life most of us knew, to be truthful."

"Maybe."

She doesn't think it was natural. And I don't like how she's being 'cause it's making me even more uneasy. Fuck you, paranoia.

She asks, "Did you have a hard time adjusting after you left?"

I laugh. "Look at me."

She grins too. And for a moment we're content in silence.

Then I kill it a knife. "I'm thinking of going on television again."

She tries to keep her smile but can barely balance it on her lips. "Can't stand being out of the limelight? I've heard it's like a disease."

"I think the world should know what I found in the woods."

She bites down on her tongue, then says, "I don't think that would be smart."

"I'm not a smart guy."

Her eyes wander to the guy driving the taxi. "Maybe we can we talk about it at the bar, instead?

"Sure. Okay. Let's talk something else until then. What are you like with football?"

We shoot the breeze for a while with conversation so shallow you'd be hard-pressed to bury a fly in it. But that's okay, I can wait a few minutes before getting my answers.

It's me that notices the car behind us, not Elena. I see it in the rearview mirror. Watch it for a while as we turn off the freeway. And I'm starting to think that maybe Elena was right to be paranoid.

It was the driver of the smart red Ford that caught my eye. The young guy from the airport bar that I'd seen looking at me.

And it might just be a coincidence -- and perhaps another day that's what I'd chalk it down as. But he's got a cigarette in his mouth now and it triggers something in my brain, and I remember where I recognize his face from.

He's let his stubble come out and he's swept his mop of hair to the side -- might even have shortened it. Purposefully different.

It's the guy from OReilly's from a few nights back, back when the Storm Guard's had made their announcement. Who said I looked like something his wife might have cooked up. I hadn't taken much of a good look at him that night... But still, as he puffs out a tiny cloud of smoke, I'm almost certain."

"Don't look behind you," I say to Elena, voice calm and level. "But I think we're being followed."