Two nights had passed since the call to Homicide. The sun was still rising when Ralph turned the ignition key to kill the engine. The next step was to apply the handbrake, which made an almost blood-curdling squeal, underscoring once again the car's distinctive character, much praised by its driver. Then the old punk opened the glove compartment above Harry's lap, pulled out one of the walkie-talkies and set it to receive. Since there were no parking spaces directly in front of the entrance to the nuclear power plant's office building, he had pulled over a short distance away.

"Here we are," he grinned. "Business as usual, you check in just before you come out. But give an old man a minute's notice, okay? I can't fly."

"You got it," said Yuri, who was sitting right behind him.

"I'm really sorry I can't go with you today," Ralph added with a regretful undertone. As a getaway driver, it was his job to be on constant alert, and that was much more demanding than it sounded at first. "After all, it's not every day you get to blow the head off some really big fish."

"Only have small guns with us for really small holes. Heads stay on neck," Yuri replied blankly, getting out of the car to make room for Abigail and Yanny. Once again, the backseat of Ralph's old car had become quite crowded. Now the two ladies also got out of the small car, while Harry had a much easier time getting out of the passenger seat. They were all dressed in serious business attire and looked like journalists from the Daily Observer. Their shrink-wrapped, fake press passes dangled from blue plastic ribbons around their necks; they had been delivered by courier to TRAP headquarters last night. Once again, a certain Isabella Stone, secretary to the mayor's outer office, had taken care of it. Will Morgan had asked her for the favor, but more to keep in touch with her, since the IDs could have been forged at Homicide. Stone had even managed to get the company that usually made the real IDs to make the fake versions now, despite the short notice. The TRAP agents, however, had no idea of these details going on in the background.

Yanny carried a professional camera with a long lens as additional camouflage, and in her perfectly pressed gray suit and neatly tied ponytail, she looked like an experienced press photographer. Only for Yuri it had been more difficult to find a well-fitting suit in his size in such a short time. The tuxedo he had worn on the Sea Lord months ago would have been out of the question for this appointment. An exhaustive search had finally led him to a stripper specialty store that catered to muscular physiques like his. At least the numerous Velcro fastenings of the dark brown suit he was wearing now were so well hidden that no suspicion would be aroused. The additional purchase of a fireman's uniform with red Hot Boy pants at the agency's expense had been categorically rejected by the others, which Yuri had acknowledged with extreme displeasure. Both Abigail and Harry, on the other hand, had opted for simple black elegance.

After a brief goodbye, the four of them set off while Ralph returned to the driver's seat and once again pulled from the glove compartment the well-worn crossword puzzle book with pictures of pin-up girls.

"Does everyone remember their cover names?" Abigail casually asked the group as they walked toward the main entrance of the central administration building. Red rays of sunlight illuminated the white dome and the two gigantic cooling towers in the background, spewing massive plumes of steam. The power plant itself was still about a hundred meters away, the grounds protected by a high barbed wire fence.

"Yes," Yanny replied curtly. Abigail bit her lower lip. Of course the cyborg remembered. It was a piece of cake when you could store any information you wanted in your head. Then she looked at Yuri, who quickly looked back at Abigail.

"Bimmy Bobkins," he finally murmured through clenched teeth.

"Jaden Jankins," Abigail corrected him and sighed. She could only hope that the job wouldn't fail because of such a small detail.

"Never mind, I'll just check ID again if anyone asks, then read off," Yuri shrugged. It was obvious that he hated wearing an American alias.

"Yeah right, there you go, don't be so picky," Harry said with a slightly ironic undertone to Abigail and smiled. It was a brief moment that had loosened his grim demeanor.

The automatic sliding doors opened wide, giving way to a spacious entryway as the agents approached the sensor. The generously spaced surveillance cameras already had them in view. The parquet floor, the walls, the reception desk, the waiting area with its large seating area and end tables, all had the same black and gold look and made a very feudal, almost noble impression.

"Well, they have good taste here. I was expecting more of a hospital and laboratory charm," Abigail whispered to Harry.

"Mmm," he murmured in confirmation, then smiled at the two uniformed ladies behind the reception desk. They wore stewardess hoods emblazoned with the symbol of POWERS. The symbol had also been carved into the floor of the lobby, several feet in diameter. "Top of the morning to you. We are from the Daily Observer and have an appointment with Dr. Malcom at 7:30," he said pleasantly to the ladies.

"Good morning and welcome to the POWERS Generating Plant. May we just check your IDs for a moment?" one of the ladies replied.

"Sure thing," Yuri said, stomping forward to the counter. Abigail's lips curled and she promptly followed. Her concern was unfounded. They contented themselves with a simple check, looked up the given aliases in a list of visitors, put a few check marks behind them, and asked the four supposed journalists to wait a moment. After about five minutes, a gentleman from security came down in the elevator and told the visitors to follow him to the executive floor. So far, so normal. So far, so unsuspicious. When they finally stood together in the elevator, Harry and Yuri's eyes met. They both had the same thought at the same moment. The security guard was wearing a uniform they had seen before in the underground. They had seen it in the city of Aon-I on some human corpses that had died fighting the crawlers and the warriors that had tried to defend their families against the technically superior weapons. A holstered pistol hung from the man's belt. Harry fixed the man with cold eyes, trying to calm himself, trying not to let the anger stirred by the memories take over, clenching a fist behind his back. So tightly that the white of his knuckles was visible. Yuri held his gaze and shook his head imperceptibly. He knew exactly what was going on in his comrade's mind, he could feel it. Harry, on the other hand, jumped and woke as if from a dream when he felt Yanny's touch on his fist from behind. She too had noticed his condition.

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"How's life as a journalist? I'm sure you meet a lot of famous people," asked the guard, who also felt the atmosphere in the elevator was a bit unnaturally tense. He seemed to be trying to lighten the mood with some small talk.

"Not really. Most of our work consists of small reports and features, nothing special. Today's appointment is more of a big event, as opposed to the day-to-day stuff," Yanny replied amiably.

"So no glitz and glamour, no wild parties? They say the mayor's receptions are always pretty wild. You've never been to one of Carla Brandon's parties on North Beach? Since her husband died, it seems to have really taken off there," the man replied, a little disappointed.

"Unfortunately not. But who knows, maybe one day we'll be sent to high society," Yanny replied again in a friendly manner.

"Maybe you should change profession and go more on party?" Yuri interjected.

"As what?" the man asked in surprise.

"A peanut server maybe?" Yuri said, looking down at the man he towered over with a deadpan expression.

"I wish," the latter finally grinned, having taken it for a joke, and at the same moment the elevator door opened. "Ninth and last floor, we're here," he announced, getting out and motioning for the others to follow. Their way took them past some offices and meeting rooms. Two turns later, they were standing in front of another door. "Just sign in here, this is Dr. Malcom's outer office. I'll be back to pick you up later," the guard said goodbye, turning on his heel and heading straight back to the elevator. When he was out of earshot, Harry whispered:

"One of us has to distract the outer office so the others have a free hand. Under no circumstances must they get the idea of entering the executive office or doing anything else to interfere with our operation."

"Which one of us?" asked Abigail.

"We'll decide once we're inside," Harry replied, quickly running a hand through his hair. Then he opened the door to the outer office and the agents entered.

"Good morning, we're from the Daily Observer and we're here for the interview with Dr. Malcom," Yanny greeted a lady with long brunette hair who was tapping away at a typewriter with impressive speed.

"Ah yes, good morning, just a moment please..." she mumbled, finishing the sentence she had started. But when she lifted her eyes from the paper and looked up, she saw Yuri standing right in front of her.

"Good morning, madam," he said with his calm bass.

"Yes... um, oh... good morning," she said now, visibly confused, taken by his handsome size and undoubtedly athletic physique that was easily visible despite his suit. It seemed that he had found a small weak spot in her. Abigail, who was very good at interpreting the meaning of the dreamy look on the outer office lady's face, immediately knew how to use the momentum to their advantage. It couldn't have gone better for them.

"We'll go through then, okay? Don't bother, we've already been announced," she trilled to the lady, making a hand signal to Harry and Yanny.

"Sure," the outer office lady confirmed.

"May I know your name so I can recite it when I'm sleepless tonight, looking up at the starry sky?" Yuri mumbled to the lady, resting his hands on her desk and leaning toward her. He did not have to force himself to do any of this. He liked the woman, and this mission had taken a very surprising turn for him, one he had not expected at all. Anyway, if his mission for the group now was to flirt with an attractive woman, it was a new experience compared to the things he usually had to take care of.

"Don't you think that's a bit direct?" the lady smiled, blushing slightly. "My name is Jessica Smith. Easy to remember, isn't it? You can recite it to yourself for all I care. May I perhaps know yours as well?" Jessica replied.

"Jaden Jankins my name," Yuri said in his heavy Russian accent, and Jessica raised an eyebrow in response. Then she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Really? Doesn't really suit you, I think." Then she picked up a pencil from beside the typewriter and covered its end with her lips, her eyes following Yuri's right hand as it slowly began to loosen his tie.

"Yes, I think so too. That's why my friends call me Bimmy," he replied, winking at her. She giggled again.

"That's a funny nickname, is there a story behind it?"

"Is actually stage name for my second job as amateur magician. Want to see trick?" Yuri grinned.

"Sure!" Jessica smirked, seeming to completely forget that she actually had other work to do while talking to the handsome man.

"Good, good," Yuri nodded. Then he stood back up to his full height in front of her, placing his right hand on the left shoulder of his suit and his left hand on the right side of his pants. The next moment he tore at the clothes with full force. The suit from the stripper shop instantly gave way, and a loud rattle later he was standing in front of her in nothing but tight-fitting black underpants. She stared at him open-mouthed as he dropped the pieces of the suit to the floor with a casual movement, staring at his well-toned body, his broad shoulders, his massive arms. Yuri took careful note of her reaction and placed his hands on his hips, flexing his muscles to make his already impressive figure look even more defined.

"I... I think I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming all this, aren't I?" Jessica breathed, and as she spoke, the pencil fell out of her mouth.

"Let's find out..." Yuri suggested, looking deep into her eyes.