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The lone figure waited with grave impatience as the first almost indiscernible hint of dawn touched the warehouse, indistinguishable from the others of its like set along the San Diego waterfront. His dark piercing eyes tracked the faint glint from a satellite as it traced a high orbit overhead, this silent traveller an odd reminder of how things once were before the time of great change.

Jonathan Morrell knew he tempted fate by standing too long exposed as the pitch black atmosphere, strongly emphasised by the dark dead cityscape before him, would subtly began the shift to a deep velvet purple and eventually to brilliant blue as the sun lifted itself above the far horizon.

But he'd expected Boris Veldt at least an hour ago, the big Slav not normally late like this. If he'd stayed too long at the Yucca Valley retreat...

Almost as in response to his sombre train of thought, The tall man spotted the headlights to the gray Cadillac approaching the waterfront at a far clip. Boris was cutting it close, the skies lightened considerably behind him as the courier pulled up to the edge of the loading ramp where Jonathan waited...

"You're late. " Morrell stated the obvious with a sideways glance at the sky which now shimmered with the angry red of the approaching dawn. Already the creeping rays of the solar sphere warmed his cool flesh to a point where discomfort was evident in his suddenly pained expression. "Let's go inside. "

Cooler, much cooler in the dark mostly empty cavernous interior which served as a temporary base of operations for Jonathan and his people, waiting as anxious as their leader for Veldt's arrival. The musty smell of memories, remnants of the past, touched their senses as the two climbed the narrow stairs to the tiny second level office which overlooked the warehouse floor.

"Pavel kept me busy going over the plans for the transportation of the cargo, tomorrow night. " Boris told his host, Jonathan pausing before the door, the faint glow of candles inside which were suddenly snuffed out at the sound of their approach. "But I was expected, so here I am. "

The other grunted somewhat unkindly at the couriers' blunt arrogance, however deserved by his immaculate service to the various clans who ran the West Coast, from Chula Vista to Berkley. Boris, adaptable in manner, still dressed somewhat old world with his rough blandly brown coat and trousers, well worn at the cuffs which held the dust of much travel across both the Americas and Europe.

The broad face, half covered by a neatly trimmed beard, offset by heavy brows which ill-hid penetrating gray eyes that gazed with a sly cynical humour at this New World youth. But Jonathan knew that Pavel wouldn't have sent Boris without good reason.

Susanna Cartier, a slim honey haired beauty, cool in demeanour which was reflected in the raven black leather dress of the superior breed. Her short sculptured mane matched the more masculine style of Jonathan's cut, the sole concession to femininity a single lock curling down across the girls' forehead which was tightly knit in deep concentration.

"You're late. " her soft rebuke, an almost imperceptible tone of disdain, drifted across the space between them, Susanna not even looking up from the papers she studied as they entered the office.

Another body, gaunt in frame and face, slumped comfortably in a creaky old chair, Hans Lieber taking the appearance of the newcomer so much in stride that Boris wondered if the man was animate at all.

"And so I am. " countered Veldt with a light chuckle, pulling a slender folder out from his inside left coat pocket. "And here's word from Herr Pozner on the specifics of the transfer to the Mary Celeste. "

Outside, along the narrows between the evacuated storehouses which had once held cargo for transport to destinations all over the globe, they heard the moaning begin, the tell-tale dry rasping breath and shuffling feet of the others. As Boris glanced toward Morrell, Susanna looked annoyed and Hans bored. Jonathan shook his head in response to a silent question from the courier.

"There's nothing here for them, but they still show up from time to time. " he explained. "Which shouldn't interfere with the operation? " demanded Boris lightly.

"I'm sure we can handle it. " Susanna interrupted with the eager assuredness of youth. "I mean, the poor things move so slow! They're not even any good as food... ! "

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