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it can’t be that far.”
    “You don’t own a car,” Eirik stated with finality.
    “I bought one.”
    “Sweet Freyja, you didn’t!” Eirik put his head in his hands, swearing softly.
    Trey realized he’d pushed the situation so far out-of-hand that he’d risked being banished back home to his own dimension for an attitude adjustment. He could concede the battle and hope he didn’t lose the war, but that wasn’t his way. They needed his skills, especially now with their primary facilities gone and too many of their people scattered to the four corners of this world. They, the Althings and Eirik, needed him to create a new series of interlinking jump points on their Portal network and they were doing that flying blind, not knowing fully what he was capable of. He preferred keeping it that way.
    Eirik stared at the high rises, his face impenetrable. Trey shifted on the uncomfortable seat, anxious to be on his way.
    Finally, his gothi reached a conclusion and in a halting voice said, “I, uh, we can’t have you going off half-cocked. If you insist on doing this, then you’ll do it my way.” He scowled, the old resolve returning, brooking no argument. “You can use whatever conveyance suits your fancy, but I choose the target.” He emphasized the ‘I’ with a closed fist pressed against his chest and a hard stare at his nephew.
    Since he was getting his way, it was easier to agree than to argue. Careful to keep the smugness out of his tone of voice, Trey asked, “Exactly where is this new target?”
    “Greyfalcon headquarters in Maryland, somewhere north of the city. Here are the co-ordinates.” Gothi handed Trey a card with latitude and longitude imprinted in Old Norse. Trey was tempted to ask if Eirik had planned this all along but the thought was interrupted as Eirik hastened to attach his interminable stipulations. “And it’s to observe only. Stay below their radar. Find us a jump point nearby, but undetectable.”
    “This isn’t going to help,” Trey complained as he scanned the writing on the card.
    “Then buy a damned map. Go and find this ‘other’ you are so convinced is out there. Now. Before I change my mind.”
    Trey smirked and rose off the park bench. He headed for a sleek black machine parked at the curb and chirped it open.
    “Boy!” Trey turned to look quizzically at his uncle. “What is that?”
    “A Porsche 911GT2 RS.” Trey touched a forefinger to his nose and wriggled his solid bulk into the vehicle.
    In the rear view mirror he watched Eirik’s pinched stare as he drove off. He knew his uncle was pondering what he was going to do to stave off what he considered reckless and unnecessary action. As he turned the corner, he glimpsed Eirik walking solemnly toward the bus stop.
    His uncle and the Jarls would argue for days, weeks and decades—he did not have that luxury. He’d made mistakes and incurred debts. It was time to make restitution.

Chapter Four
    ––––––––
    “S tand back, Caty.” Jake swung the doors open on a decrepit tractor-trailer box. He pushed at the stand of sumac providing a natural dense cover in front of the storage unit.
    “You haven’t been here in a while.” Caitlin pulled at the branches but made little headway in clearing the noxious bush out of the way of the metal door.
    “Not since last year. When I saw what was going down, we moved this thing from below Chesapeake City to here. It seemed safer.”
    “I didn’t know you could drive a rig, Dad.”
    “Uh, I can’t. Augie did it, before...” His voice trailed off as he gave a vicious yank on the door. “Gimme that branch, I’ll need something to brace it. Damn bushes.” Caitlin handed him a sturdy log.
    “Dad, what about the other matter? Are we going to look for information on that scam? They had to have left a paper trail of some sort. There was too much money involved.”
    Jake shrugged and continued pulling branches out of the way. Stomping on the last branch, he