HEROINES ON ICE - P. 1

PROLOGUE.  The gale was so strong he was forced to bend his upper body to advance into it.  The wind driven snow limited his view to about thirty feet.  He was slogging up the mountain but there was no alternative as the....things were herding him.  Aaron Fisher was in excellent condition as what might be expected from an undercover F.B.I. agent but he was nearing the end of his strength.  His breath came quick and labored, the snowshoes seemed as heavy as cement and his mind was wandering in and out of reality.
    It was vital he get the information written in a small notebook sewn into the lining of is inner jacket, to his fellow agents.  If only he could stop and rest, but the one glimpse he had of what followed him was enough to keep him stumbling forward and upward.  He tripped and fell on his face.  He tried to get up, crawling forward - and then  found himself looking down into a snow swirled crevasse.  How many feet down?  He staggered upright, his back to the cliff and fumbling with his parka pulled out a large semi-automatic pistol and clumsily thumbed off the safety.  Then they appeared, silent, remorseless and stared at him.  Did they see, he wondered?  He fired, once, twice, three times to no effect.  They slowly began coming forward..  He thought of his son, Jeffery, now in college.  He would never see him again.  Fisher gave a cry of despair and as the creatures came forward on a stiff legged gait,  put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.  He was dead before his body fell backwards and disappeared into the snow driven maw of the chasm.

CHAPTER 1.  “You must have received my e-mail, Ms. York.  I clearly wrote that we have been closed by the authorities because of the danger of avalanche.”
    Penelope York widened her large blue eyes and lied sweetly, “I never received any such e-mail, Mr. Fraser.”
    Turning and speaking to her smaller, younger companion, “Did you receive any such e-mail, Brooke?”
    “Gee, Penelope, my computer’s been broke for a week.  I got Binnie Turner to look at it - you remember Binnie always bragging about how high tech she is.  Well, I’m not high tech.  Heck, I suppose I’m not even low tech.  Anyway Binne started fooling around with it then my hard drive crashed, whatever that is, and not only was I not getting my e-mail but I wasn’t getting my dance and nature videos.  I told Binnie that -”
    “Thank you Brooke,” said Penelope with a smile.
    “There you have it, Mr. Fraser; neither of us received an e-mail from you and I expect you to honor our two week reservations.”
    The tall form of Andrew Fraser was experienced in dealing with situations of this sort but before he could open his mouth -
    “I have spent the last month in Pakistan disguised as a boy so I could interview tribal chieftains without being kidnapped, raped or killed.”
    Fraser observed Penelope’s long, thick black hair, vivid blue eyes, ripe mouth,  splendid figure and long, long legs all stylishly covered in a tight fitting blue turtleneck sweater, black jeans that seemed to be painted on and knee high black leather boots with four inch heels and the picture of her as a boy refused to form in his mind.
  She continued, “I still haven’t washed the smell of goat from me and I was given two weeks of justly deserved vacation.  I picked ‘The White Mountain Ski Lodge’ because it seemed as far from Pakistan as I could get and,  because the roads are closed, Brooke and I had to hire some delightful local lads to bring us up here in ski mobiles which made me two hundred dollars poorer.  I do not want to hear talk of misplaced e-mails.  I want a comfortable room with a splendid view, a languorous soak in a hot bath, a glass or two of good Port wine, perhaps something light from your kitchen, which the brochure advertised as ‘producing culinary delights’, then a bracing walk around your establishment and to bed.  That is going to happen, isn’t it, Mr. Fraser.”
    Fraser was alerted to the subtle hint of a threat in the woman’s voice and tried another tactic.
    “We only have a skeleton staff, Miss York.  You would have to carry your own luggage.”
    “As we have spent the last two hours carrying our luggage through snow drifts, carrying them up a flight of stairs will seem a welcome change of pace.”
    “All the kitchen staff, but one, is gone and -”
    “We are not asking for a five course meal, sir.  Soup and sandwiches and some strong coffee will suffice.  Now would you please allow me to sign in and hand over our room keys.”
    The tone of the woman’s voice indicated she would not be dissuaded, so with a sigh of resignation, he punched their names into the computer and handed them two sets of keys, “The Alpine Suite; 2B.”
    The lobby of the White Mountain Ski lodge was roomy with large glass picture windows taking up much of the wall space.  The colors were bright which produced a friendly, welcoming air.  Penelope picked up the two largest suitcases leaving the two smaller ones for Brooke and pretended that they were a chore to manage as she walked up the wide carpeted staircase to the second floor.  The hallways were brilliantly lit and halfway down the left one, she found their suite.  Unlocking it, she stepped inside, put down the suitcases and switched on the overhead light.  It gave off a warm romantic glow to the spacious living room with it’s long sofa of plush cream leather, two matching easy chairs, coffee table in from of the sofa, two table lamps by each of the tables with faux tiffany lamps.  On the left was a dining table with four chairs all of wood painted light brown and around a corner a decent size kitchenette with all modern conveniences.  A sliding glass door took up much of the opposite wall and Penelope could see a terrace.
    Brooke had entered and Penelope went to the right and opened the door and switched on the light.  A large bedroom all in white was revealed with two queen size beds, two bureaus, a desk and chair, a huge walk in closet and a large picture window that took up half of the far wall.  A modern bathroom and smaller dressing room were on the far side.  It would do.
    “Let’s get unpacked, Brooke,” she said as she threw her suitcases on the nearest bed and began putting her clothes away.
    While Penelope made sure everything was neatly folded before placing it in a drawer and shook out all the garments to be hung, Brooke just threw things in drawers and hung clothes up not caring if they were wrinkled.
    “Penelope, why did you -”
    The senior heroine put her finger to her lips, steered Brooke in the bathroom and turned on the sink’s faucet.
    “This place may be bugged,” she said in a low voice.  “Later on I’ll make a search for them.  You want to know, why I asked you to lie?”
    Brooke nodded and Penelope grinned and said in the same low voice, “I’m up here on a story and it may be that Beestung and Miss Britain will be called upon.”
    Brooke jumped in the air and yelled, “Yes!” for her dream was to fight along side her idol.
    “You promise to do what I tell you,” she said and her smaller companion nodded grinning.
    “As you’re already unpacked,” and she shook her head in a resigned fashion, “Go take a shower while I finish unpacking, then you can take out your laptop and do whatever while I take the hot bath I promised myself.  Then we’ll dress and go downstairs and see if anyone else has stayed.”
    “You bet, Penelope,” and she ran into the bathroom, closed the door and a minute later Penelope could hear the shower running.
    She continued methodically unpacking sighing and saying, “Oh Brooke, I see I’ll have to re-hang all your clothes in the proper order.  Why can’t you be organized like I am.”
    An hour later she was checking herself out in a full length mirror inspecting the simple shimery blue gown with the wide short sleeves, demure ‘V’ neckline, with the hemline falling halfway to her calves.  It was belted with a silver cord and while not tight, did not disguise the figure underneath.  The shoes were of black leather consisting of quarter inch straps and four inch heels.  A dab of dark red lipstick, a comb through her thick black hair and she was ready.
    She called out from the dressing room, “Brooke?”
    “Why can’t I just wear black jeans and a sweat shirt, Penelope.  It’s a ski lodge not the ballroom at the Plaza.”
    “Brooke, as the top foreign correspondent for the BBC, at any time I might have a microphone shoved in my face or a camera, cam corder, etc. and I must look my best.  My employers and my audience see me as a symbol of elegance, sophistication no matter the situation and as a result, I must be dressed appropriately at all times, even if I might like to wear a sweatshirt and jeans.  You, as my friend and companion, must not embarrass me by appearing as a ragamuffin.  You understand.”
    “I guess so, Penelope but I’ll never look as swell as you.”
    Penelope gave her a once over, “Nonsense.  You are a lovely young woman and the peach gown I picked out for you with the matching pumps emphasizes it.”
    Brooke looked down at the gown, which was of heavy silk, with short sleeves, high neckline and loose skirt that ended right above her knees.  Though her legs were short they were shapely and toned as befitted a dance student.  She had to admit the pumps with the two inch heels were not as uncomfortable as she had thought.
    “Now let’s go down, have a bit to eat and meet the other guests.”
    Double doors from the lobby led to a specious dining room that easily would have fed a hundred people.  There were about thirty round tables all neatly covered with white, tablecloths and two sides of the dining room were of huge picture windows that gave an breathtaking view of the forest and the mountain.  Three of the tables were occupied by guests.
    “I guess we seat ourselves, Brooke,” said Penelope cheerfully, aware that all eyes had turned towards her, and led Brooke to a table by one of the windows and they seated themselves.
    A man from one of the occupied tables got up and approached him.   He was slightly above average height, blond, good looking and appeared to be in his middle thirties.  He was wearing a grey silk shirt, sports coat of matching color and black slacks.
    “Excuse me for intruding but if you want the one person in the kitchen, push the button  on the wall by the table and he’ll come - eventually.”
    Penelope looked up and smiled, “Why thank you, sir,” and she pushed the button.
    He gave her a close look and said, “Aren’t you Penelope York of the BBC?”
    She smiled ruefully, “Yes I am, here on vacation.”
    “Wait until I tell the folks back home I met you.”
    Penelope laughed, “They would much rather, I am sure, hear about your skiing adventures.  This is my dear friend, Brooke Loos,” indicating Brooke.
    “Please to meet you, Mr. ...?” replied Brooke.
    “I am sorry; David Tolson.  I’ve been up here awhile overseeing some renovation of the resort’s physical plant.”
    “I hope to see you again, Mr. Tolson,” said Penelope.
    “I hope it’s later tonight.  They have a delightful bar with an incredible view of the mountain.  We few guests have taken to congregating there and sampling the stock - which isn’t bad, and please, the name is David.”
    Penelope flashed him a warm smile, “I will answer to Penelope, David.”
    At that moment the chef appeared and David excused himself.  The chef was a fussy, irritable little man and showed them the menus which consisted of six types of sandwiches and five kinds of soup.  The two ordered the same thing; grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and tomato soup; Penelope ordered coffee as her beverage and Brooke, Pepsi.
    While they were waiting, Brooke looked around the dining hall and whispered, “Those two women over there; they look like giantess’s.”
    “It isn’t polite to stare, Brooke, but I can see why you would.”
    The two women in question were enormously tall and looked like twins.  They were wearing matching black leather outfits and delicately eating their soup and sandwiches.  The only other people were a couple in their late 20's or early 30's, attractive and nicely if simply dressed.  The meal arrived and was eaten without incident.
    While drinking her after supper coffee, Penelope noticed her friend was getting restless.
    “All right let’s go into the bar,” she said with a smile and they got up and followed where the others had gone.
    After a walk down a wide, carpeted hallway, they opened a double door and entered a gorgeously beautiful room.  The place was all dark furniture with the bar on one side and tables all around two walls which seemed to be made entirely of glass and showed the moonlight on the snow covered mountain above, the hill below and the forest to the sides.  Dim lamps on the tables were the only man made illumination and provided a definite warm, romantic glow.  The attractive couple and the twins were seated at tables by the window and David Tolson was behind the bar while his companion leaned on it from the other side.  A piano was in the corner.
    Penelope walked up to the bar and said to David, “If you’re acting as bartender, I’d like a martini, not too dry, and Brooke will have a ginger ale with a splash of bourbon.”
    Her smaller companion grinned, “Gee, you’re letting me have a drink.”
    “Learning to drink socially and keep your wits about you is a useful thing to know.”
    Penelope turned to the unnamed man and asked, “I didn’t catch your name, Mr....?”
    “Victor Bolgun,” he said in a deep affable voice, “but just call me Vic, everyone does.”
    “Are you a business associate of David’s?”
    “Number one man.  He handles the money stuff and I run the crews.”
    As he stood about three inches over six foot and looked extremely fit, Penelope thought he must not have too much trouble doing that.  His not unhandsome face was craggy and he had a twinkle in his dark green eyes.
    David handed them their drinks and Brooke said, “I’d like to talk to those giant women over by the window.”
    David smiled, “The Rinovski sisters.  They’re from Russia, here they say, on holiday.  They pretty much keep to themselves but you might have more luck in getting them to open up.”
    Brooke, with Penelope following, walked over to their table.
    “Hi, I’m Brooke Loos.  I’m a dance student here on vacation with my friend.  How tall are you?”
    Penelope winced as the sister on the left gave her a frigid look but the one on the right laughed and said in a contralto voice, “People want to know but afraid to ask.  We do not eat people,” and she gave Brooke a huge smile which Penelope though made her look like a large python.
    “We are six feet and five inches.  I am Selkie Rinovski and the quiet one is my sister, Velka.  We are twins.”
    “This is my friend Penelope; she a corespondent for the BBC.  That’s the British Broadcast Bureau.”
    “How good to know,” said Selkie as she shook Penelope’s hand.
    “Please sit with us.  It is good to have someone to talk to besides my sister who doesn’t talk much.”
    Brooke dragged the chairs over and the two sat.  Close up Penelope was able to get a good look at both of them: Long, lank black hair, large grey eyes, wide thin lipped mouths.  They were both thin under the leather cat suits and while Selkie seemed incredibly flexible, sister Velka sat stiffly in her chair and looked at the two with an expression, Penelope thought, torn between killing the two of them or merely crippling.
    “What do you do in Russia?” asked Brooke totally oblivious to the stare of Velka.
    “We run a health spa,” answered Selkie with a smile.
    “Oh wow, that’s so neat,” exclaimed Brooke.  “Is it for both men and women?”
    “Yes, both men and women,” said Selkie with a sinister smile.
    Velka spoke in halting English, “They leave....different from when they came,” and the tiniest upturning of the corners of her mouth indicated she thought her remark humorous.
    “How long will you be staying in America?” asked Penelope.
    “Few weeks, then we go home,” replied Velka.
    Selkie said, “Velka and I must go to bed.  Tomorrow we try skis.  Not too good; yet,” and she stood up towering over the table.
    Her sister stood up and they blocked out the view of the picture window.
    “See you tomorrow,” said Selkie.  'Maybe we ski together.”
    Brooke answered,"Oh, I’d like that.  I don’t know how to ski.”
    “We teach each other,” said Selkie and walked towards the door though Penelope thought it was more like slithering.
    Velka walked with quick, jerky movements, the opposite of her sister.
    Penelope leaned back in her chair and said, “That’s a pair you don’t see every day.”
    “Selkie was very nice.  I think she must look funny of skis,” said Brooke.
    “I imagine they have a number of looks,” said Penelope in a low voice, “but I don’t think funny is one of them.”
    She was aware that the other couple was standing by their table.
    “Do you mind if we join you,” asked the man.
    “I’m Dick Jenson and this is my wife, Susan.”
    “Please do,” said Penelope.  ‘I am Penelope York and this is my friend Brooke Loos.
    As they seated themselves, Penelope gave them a once over.  The man was middle thirties, the wife late twenties.  He was handsome with a slight receding hairline and she was mildly pretty with a good figure and light brown hair.
    “We couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the Rinovski’s.  I didn’t think we’d meet a celebrity on our vacation.
    Penelope waved away the complement, “What are you folks vacationing from - I’ll bet teaching.”
    Susan laughed, “Is it that obvious?”
    Dick said, “Middlebrook High School in Buffalo.  I teach first year Algebra.”
    Susan said, “I try to teach English literature but I feel I’m losing ground more and more every year.”
    “The threat of avalanche didn’t dissuade you from coming?” asked Penelope.
    Dick said passionately, “We’ve been planning this vacation so long that the threat of a tsunami wouldn’t have deterred us.”
    Penelope laughed, “That I don’t think we have to worry about.”
    For another half an hour they made small talk, then Dick said, “Got to go.  We have a busy day tomorrow.  I want to get in a bit of mountain climbing.”
    Susan smiled resignedly, “And naturally I have to go along.”
    Goodbyes were made and the couple left.
    Penelope looked over at the deserted bar and said, “Seems David and Vic called it a night.  Why don’t we.”
    Back in their suite, Penelope set up her lap top on the desk and began typing furiously.  Fifteen minutes later she took out a miniature camera, hooked it to the machine and downloaded the contents.  Typing for another five minutes, she pressed ‘send’ and sat back.
    “Care to go for a walk before we turn in?” she asked.
    “Can I wear jeans and a sweatshirt?” was the mischievous reply.
    “Yes and a parka, hat and gloves.”
    Fifteen minutes later, the two walked out of the White Mountain Ski Lodge appropriately attired.
    “Brrr, it’s cold,” said Brooke.”
    “It’s been an abnormally cold winter with the most snowfall in a generation,” said Penelope.  “I suppose being on the side of a mountain, even if near the bottom is the reason for the avalanche warning.  I've been studying the mountain and there seems to be a huge overhang of snow near the top.  If it ever comes loose, it will take this ski lodge, bury it and probably destroy the village below.  Let's hope we don't have to worry about that.”
    While the lobby was lit up only two other lights were visible, both from the third floor, but the night was clear and the moonlight, reflecting off the snow, gave adequate light.  The two walked along the paved path behind the ski lodge proper and began trudging upwards.
    “Are we looking for something special?” asked Brooke.
    “I want to see the out buildings.”
    “What story are you working on?” asked an excited Brooke.
    “Last year, Dr. Peter Gregor, the world’s foremost authority on cryogenics disappeared not ten miles from here.  He was going on a skiing holiday and hasn’t been seen since.  There have been a couple other disappearances of the local people in the past year as well as a number of deaths by seemingly natural means but strange when considering the number of them.  Anyway, I am here to see if there is any sort of connection - and to have a vacation.”
    “Wow!  An awesome story, Penelope.  Uh, what’s 'cryogenics’?”
    Penelope smiled, “I wondered when you were going to ask that.  It is the study of extreme cold.  Oh, look, there’s where they house the ski lift.”
    The building was dark except for a small outside light.  They went up the path some more and came to wood building that turned out to be a ski rental place.  They veered to the right and Penelope said, “Footprints heading up beyond those trees.  Let’s go investigate.”
    The snow was over a foot deep and was tough slogging but they persevered and, going through a small copse of trees saw a grey brick building like a blockhouse.  
    They trudged towards it when a large man appeared seemingly out of nowhere and yelled at them with a thick Russian accent, “What you doing here?  Forbidden.”
    Penelope replied in a firm voice, “We are guests at the ski lodge out for a night’s walk.  I might ask what you are doing here, sir.”
    He walked menacingly towards them when a man appeared from the building and said something to the man advancing on them in Russian.  The man snorted disgustedly and walked away.
    The second man hurried towards them and said in excellent English, “You must excuse him but we are laying electrical wire and it is dangerous if you don’t know what you are doing.”
    “Well we certainly don’t want to interrupt that, do we Brooke,” said Penelope in a placating voice.
    Brooke just shook her head and Penelope said, “I think we’ve had enough of a walk this night.  We will leave you to your electrical wires,” and she smiled.
    The man nodded and as the two walked back, Penelope said in a low voice, “There is something going on here, Brooke.”
    “Then it’s time for Beestung to deal with villainy,” the young heroine said with fiendish glee.
    The return was uneventful.  Upon entering their room, Penelope checked the snares she had laid in case anyone had entered their suite; no one had.  She disabled the three bugs she had discovered and taking her laptop and placing it on the desk, went through the elaborate security measures she had installed to guarantee no one but the highest level of hacker could get into her computer; everything seemed alright.  While Brooke looked over her shoulder, Penelope went to see if her inquiries had been answered.
    “Anything interesting?” asked Brooke.
    “Our friend David Tolson, is the top member of the Russian crime syndicate, 'Black Dove’ in America.”
    She turned her head to look up at her friend, “The 'Black Dove’ specializes in the theft of scientific research.  They have very close ties to the Russian government.  I’ll bet Mr. Bolgun is Spetsnaz.”
    Noticing Brooke’s questioning expression, she explained, “Spetsnaz is the Russian equivalent of America’s Green Berets or Navy SEALS which means he is top flight opposition.”
    Continuing to read, she said, “The Jensons are apparently what they claimed to be, but get this on the Rinovski twins:  They are both surgeons and run a top secret medical facility which Western intelligence has not been able to penetrate.  Both are believed to have undergone extensive body modification.  This is their first time out of Russia.  God knows what the hell that means.”
    She deleted the material and sat there looking at the blank screen for a couple of minutes.
    “How do feel about a late night excursion to investigate that building they were so keen on not letting us see?”
    “Oh boy!”
    Grinning, Penelope got up from the chair and said, “I thought that would be your reaction.”
    Pulling one of her empty suitcases from the closet, she laid it on the bed and pressed a certain part of the interior stitching.  A secret compartment was revealed and she took out a thin leather black body suit.
    “As I don’t want Miss Britain’s and Beestung’s presence noticed yet, I had this made for you.  There are slits in the back for your wings and a hole for your stinger to poke through.  The hood should disguise those ridiculous antennae and the mask should keep anyone from guessing that cute dance student, Brooke Loos is the notorious heroine Beestung.”
    Brooke’s eyes started to water, “Aw gee, Penelope, you shouldn’t -”
    “Nonsense.  You’re my partner.  Wear it to bed.  I am going to have to reactivate the bugs before they get suspicious.  We must make as little noise as possible when we leave.”
    Brooke was out of her clothes in a flash and began putting on the body suit.
    “I’ve never been called 'notorious’ Penelope.  Is that how villains really think of me?”
    Hiding a smile, her friend answered, “So I’ve been informed.  In your little corner of the world, villains dread and fear you.  Now get into bed and try and get a couple hours sleep.”
    Penelope took her outfit from the closet; pullover shirt with hood,  pants, both of black leather and specially tailored to her figure.  A black silk mask and black rubber soled shoes completed the costume.  She turned off the lights, lay on the bed and planned how it would go.
----------------------------------------------
    Miss Britain buckled on a stripped down utility belt that contained; flashlight, rope, knife, burglar tools - everything a super heroine or a cat burglar might need for a night’s activities.  Signaling Beestung, whose ridiculous antennae were sticking out from under her hood, (the heroine bit back a sarcastic comment), she slid open the bedroom window and flew out.  When Miss Britain was joined by her partner, she closed the window as silently as possible and flew towards the mysterious building.  She could have reached it in under a minute, but slowed her speed so Beestung could fly beside her.
    “You follow my orders exactly and without question - right Beestung?”
    “Yes, Miss Britain.  Beestung hears and will obey.”
    They flew at tree top level so as not to be seen by anyone looking up though the night sky was becoming cloudy.  Hovering at the top of a pine tree, Miss Britain could make out but one guard, carrying what looked like an AK-47 automatic rifle making a slow circuit around the building.  Whispering to Beestung to stay put, Miss Britain flew down behind the guard and chopped down at the back of his neck.  He fell without a sound and, picking up his rifle, threw it as far as she could into the woods.  An instant later Beestung was beside her.  The heroine searched the guard for keys and not finding any, strode quickly to the front entrance, her younger companion right behind.  She looked at the lock and pulled out her burglar tools.  Miss Britain could have ripped the lock off but that would have a give away that someone with great strength had been here.  Three tense minutes later, she opened the door and the two quietly entered.  No alarms went off which was encouraging.  In front of them was a cement corridor dimly lit by forty watt light bulbs.  Fifty feet in it made a left turn and ten feet later ended with a door.  The heroine opened it and saw stairs leading down.  Boldly going down them, she turned a corner and saw twenty feet below her a huge chamber filled with turbines quietly humming away.
    Suddenly she was stuck from behind as a man had jumped on top of Beestung who yelped, whirled and shot a barb from her finger tip at point blank range - and missed.
    “Some things never change,” thought Miss Britain ruefully as she grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted hard so his pistol fell away, and flung him over her head to land painfully on his back at the bottom of the stairs.
    “Watch my back,” she yelled at Beestung as she leapt down the stairs and kicked the man in the head putting him out.
    Bullets started ricocheting off the cement floor around her and she threw herself behind the stairwell.  Up on a catwalk, she had not seen was a guard with an automatic rifle spraying the area where she was.  The only sound was of the bullets striking the cement; he was using a sound suppressor.  As she digested this, Beestung landed on top of her.
    “I thought I told you to watch my back,” she said, dragging her friend out of the bullets’ way.
    “There’s no one up there, Miss Britian.  Besides my place is here at your side.”
    Before she could comment, the rain of bullets stopped and the shooter removed the gun’s magazine in preparation for sticking a new one in.
    Suddenly inspired, Miss Britain grabbed her partner and with one hand threw her at the guard twenty feet up and thirty feet away.
    “Stinger out!” she yelled and Beestung slammed into the guard, her paralyzing stinger hitting him in the right side.
    He went down as if pole axed and Beestung jumped to her feet, patted her rump and murmured, “We should do that more often.”
    Miss Britain was making a quick examination of the turbines and then yelled, “Come on.  Time to go,” and she ran up the stairs.
    Beestung flew across from the cat walk and was waiting for her.
    “They’re all unconscious Miss Britain,” she said, hoping not to get yelled at for flying.
    “Nice work with the stinger, partner.  Let’s leave quickly,” and she ran down the hallway to the entrance to throw herself back as two guards ran towards them from the woods.
    “Damn, we’ve got to get out of here,” exclaimed Miss Britain.
    Beestung poked her head and right arm around the door and fired four barbs from her fingertips, everyone missing.  She ducked back again as bullets started whizzing by.
    “Oh, if only I could hit something with these,” cried Beestung despondently.
    “You get too excited to aim properly,” mildly said Miss Britain.
    “Another inspiration,” she cried.
    “Come out with your hands up,” commanded one of the guards
    “Beestung, shoot your barbs when I tell you,” and with one hand she grasped the heroine around the waist and with the other grabbed the girl’s left wrist, threw the two of them out onto the snow, rolled and pointing Beestung’s left hand upwards, yelled, “Shoot!”
    Beestung shot the barbs from her fingers with Miss Britain handling the aiming.  Four barbs hit the two guards, two in each face causing them to drop their weapons and cry out in pain.  As gloved hands attempted to pull out the barbs, Miss Britain leapt up and side kicked one in the jaw.  As he was falling, she spun, left foot lashed out taking the second in the knee and a chop to the back of the neck rendered him unconscious.
    Taking a quick scan of the area to see if anyone else was coming and not seeing anyone, she grabbed Beestung around the waist and flew as quick as she could back to the resort.  Quietly opening the bedroom window, they flew in and undressed; Penelope methodically and quickly and Brooke all thumbs with excitement tripping and falling on her face trying to get out of the body suit.  Sighing, Penelope gave her a hand and a minute later both were in bed.
    “Was the mission a success?” asked Brooke in a whisper.
    “Yes.  There’s enough power being produced by those turbines to light up a city block.  It will be interesting to see if there are any repercussions in the morning.  Good night, partner.”
    Grinning from ear to ear, Brooke said, “Goodnight from the notorious.”

TO BE CONTINUED: