7 May 2008, 11:00pm, On the Wharf, Portsmouth, NH

Fursa arrived on main street in her little Nissan 4x4 and parked about 4 blocks from her intended destination. She has rose from sleep early and completed the task of putting on her Brujah face well before dark, departing just as Sunna had fallen safely below the western horizon. As she looked in the mirror, Cameron Lake's pale skin, ice blue eyes, and curly black hair stared back at her.

Her engineer boots hit the pavement as she reached for her tools of the evening--checking the machete-like blade at her hip, the Glock, and the Gurlhig F20 as she stowed it beneath the long trenchcoat. She smiled a little, remembering the look on Spike's face as he saw her again, and the wicked glimmer in his eyes when she suggested that he let her get about 30 minutes down the road before he told everyone about it. Cameron Lake departed from his office by the same back door that she had come in and drove off toward Portsmouth.

A block down the road toward Tillson and Marshall Transfer, the sounds of gunfire greeted her ears. It would be 15 minutes before the cops would get the call and arrive, which meant that there was just enough time to do what needed doing and leave again. Speeding up her stride, she vanished from view as she passed through a mass of shadows and into an alley one street away.

Mikey knew at the moment that the ghoul in the alley had gone down that the game was up. He didn't know who it was, but he knew that Ace had made enough arrogant, half-assed errors in the last 6 months that *someone* would take the shot. The call from Nashua about Cameron Lake, still quite alive, sent fear through him. He knew, despite appearances, that the woman was more dangerous than she looked.

The power went out suddenly and that sent him running out of the office with a shotgun in his hand, Frank on his heels. He shouted orders to the ghouls to fan out and shoot first. All the questions could be asked later.

Tillson and Marshal Transfer Company lay in the older section of the wharf district of Portsmouth. It was up in a distant corner of the area, bordered on 3 sides by narrow alleys and the small street that the trucks and heavy equipment used. It was an easy matter to move a few cars around in the deserted street to encumber emergency response. Pick up a car or light truck by the bumper and angle it a few feet. 4 such casual adjustments created a maze that would take time to navigate--and in such matters as these, 5 minutes extra time was critical.

Cameron Lake ducked into the shadows one last time, willed herself insubstantial, and faded from view. The now noisy warehouse lay just ahead and she wasted no time passing through the brick wall to the security office inside. Within a minute, she had the cameras shut down and the tapes stowed in her pockets. Then she went back to her obfuscated incorporeality to make her way upstairs amid the gunfire.

The unmanned forklift, driving about amid the Molotov-inspired chaos left a lasting impression as she ducked into the stairwell to the second floor through a back wall and made good her way upstairs. Ace was there, she knew, and it was about time for Justice to be served--and no one would fault Cameron Lake for wanting it.