As far as hideouts went, it was pretty sweet - no pun intended.

"The JW Suite is the signature suite of the New York Marriott Marquis featuring a contemporary style, large floor plan, mahogany piano and up-close views of the NYC skyline."  So the brochure in the room had said.  Nobody was quite sure what a "piano" was until Nine referenced the interactive database on the small computer he took from the house.  It turned out that the piano was a large musical instrument, a string/percussion hybrid.  It was pretty, and the sound clips on the database were varied and interesting, but nobody could play it.

There was plenty of space for all six of them to live comfortably.  Compared to the house, it was a veritable palace.  They had their own private "elevator", as the people lifts were called, which worked on the keys which they had been given.  Betty had visited Paris again to see that three more keys were made, so that everybody had their own.  She also had to "arrange" in her own special way several other people at the facility to ensure that they were left alone.

A manager had come asking questions about who they were and how they intended to pay, etc.  She had straightened him out and secured their stay indefinitely.  He was key, given his level of authority.  There shouldn't be any mroe inconvenient questions, and if anyone came asking, he'd let them know.  After that it was just a matter of coming to a similar arrangement with the servants who arrived daily to clean and restock the suite.  They would continue to come, but they wouldn't find anything unusual or memorable about what they heard or witnessed and wouldn't tell anybody anything, ever.  Her ever-developing powers to manipulate others was both convenient and frightening.

Also frightening was the rate at which Not-Betty, the other young and beautiful blonde twin, was learning.  Her vocabulary and use of language had grown steadily, as had her social skills.  She wasn't completely up to speed by any account, but she had developed a modicum of social awareness and didn't stand out quite as much just based on her behavior.  The servants had a language of their own, completely different from the one they'd been using.  Not-Betty picked it up just as quickly and could speak it nearly as well.

The suite was a safe haven, for now.  For the most part, nobody had to leave at all.  Water was ever-present either in chilled clear plastic bottles or via one of the many faucets.  The servants kept the suite stocked with a variety of fruits and nuts, and when more substantial fare was desired it could be ordered through room service.  There were other things as well, including an entire section of the suite surrounding a counter with tall chairs behind which was a shelf holding a couple dozen bottles of different flavored intoxicants.  There was even a book of how to combine them to produce various cocktails.

After the first night, Ghost and Al had ventured out to get the lay of the land.  They stayed close and didn't go very far, didn't cross any streets, but when they returned they carried several maps and guides to the city which helped everyone develop an understanding of where they were.  New York City, it was called.  There were approximately ten million people sharing what was a long island on the eastern coast of a protectorate known as the United States of America.  It was a starting point, but none of it was the least familiar to anyone.

Between the guides, the maps, the four televisions in the suite, and the computer, there was plenty of opportunity to learn about where they were and what the culture had to offer.  But none of that would explain why they were there, how they had come to be there, and most importantly, who they were, and who they were to each other.  There was also the issue of Black Knight, and who they were, and what they wanted with a group of strangers.

It was Nine who suggested that fixing the computer retrieved from the official-looking vehicle back at the house might be a good place to start looking for data important to their questions.  He'd disassembled it and through some reverse engineering was able to figure out the technology easily enough.  But what he needed was parts.  There was a merchant nearby that likely had what he needed but judging from the minor chaos caused by his entrance in the hotel lobby two days ago, he figured he better leave the shopping to someone else.

To solve the problem, he'd gone back to the devices taken from the Black Knight men at the house.  Robert Fox's personal device had a video camera with audio pickups, and with a little reprogramming and reengineering he was able to create a permanent wireless link to the computer.  Whatever the video camera saw and heard, he'd be able to experience via a live feed on the computer.  It was child's play to then link the computer to the giant widescreen video unit in the main living space of the suite.  With one of the earpieces also linked in to allow Nine to give direction, it was almost as good as his being there.

There was a second video-capable device in the grab-bag of goodies Not-Betty had taken from the house, so they had two working units.  It was decided that Ghost, who had the most walking-around experience, would head across the street to Radio Shack and get an accounting of what they had, effectively allowing Nine to browse the store from the suite.  Tom expressed a desire to get out a bit, so he took the other device.  Nine had their live feeds streaming side-by-side on the big video unit.

"No...no...yes!  Yes, right there, if you please."

Ghost heard Nine over his earpiece and stopped where he was.  His camera was facing a section of wall covered with small clear plastic bags all holding tiny electronics components.  In the suite, while Al and Not-Betty studied the screen and Betty just looked bored, Nine used his computer to take stills of the inventory for future study. 

"We're going to need currency," Ghost's voice said over the link.  "Perhaps Betty can encourage someone to help us out."

Tom was about to say something against the idea when a melodic chime from his device sounded.

"What was that?" Nine asked from his perch on the couch.

"I don't know," Tom answered.  He flipped open his device and was greeted with a new message notification.  The device's screen was mirrored in the suite, where his half of the video had been streaming.  A press of the "read now" button displayed it on his screen and on the video unit of the suite.

WE NEED TO TALK.  I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Not Betty watched him with a quizzical tilt of her head.  She had been wearing less on Tom's nerves now that she was acclimating so quickly to society, but she still possessed a lot of timid and childlike qualities that weren't as endearing to him as they were to some of the others.

The silence on the link frustrated Ghost. He gritted his teeth and stared at the items in front of him. His eyes darted over the packaging, the foreign substance that was clear but surprisingly soft. It allowed him to see the item contained within but protected it from exposure. Or idle hands. That thought made him smile. A little.

Each of the items was hung from a small metal peg in the wall. There were often several of each item, occasionally only one and here and there a peg was empty. The one commonality was that each held a small tag above it. The words on the tags corresponded to the packaging of the item. The numbers, though, made little sense. At first, at least. Each had a symbol, and each had one, sometimes two numbers together, always followed by two smaller numbers (oddly enough, almost always "99"). He made a mental note of several items' tags, then stepped away from the display, turning away from the few people in the store and moving back towards Tom.

"Hello?" he said softly. "Shall I return?"

"Not yet." Nine replied. "Stick with Tom for a moment, please. We've had an unexpected development."

Ghost didn't bother to reply. Neither a nod nor a verbal response seemed appropriate. He simply waited for the subject of the issue to reveal itself.

Near the front of the store, Tom was still staring at the message on his phone.

"These things," he asked Nine over the link, "they're no doubt trackable?" 

Nine's response made him sound slightly exasperated. "Under normal situations yes. However I went to great lengths to make these units untraceable, considering how we acquired them. They're literally ghosts in the system that hosts them. Whoever tracked the units and managed to get through my modifications is quite impressive." 

-?-

He should have known. It had gone to easily so far. He stabbed at the tiny buttons on the handset and tried to keep from grinding his teeth in frustration.

I'm Liswening, he replied, uttering a curse at the improper spelling. 

Several agonizing moments after his message was sent, another message appeared in Tom's inbox:

NOT SAFE IN PUBLIC.  UR WANTED BY FEDS.  GO HOME.  I WILL CONTACT U THERE.

Feds... was that the name of the person Fox worked for? He glanced up at Ghost and waved the phone in his direction, then sent OK. Unless of course whoever this person was didn't actually know where they were staying. Then Tom would be leading them right to the others. He pondered this, then disregarded it. Someone who could find one of these hand units amongst millions surely knew where they were staying.

? 

Up in the suite, Al, Nine, and the Bettys read the new message on Tom's side of the big screen.  They now had two views side-by-side: Ghost's looking at Tom, facing out the front windows of the store, and Tom's phone's screen with the message.

Nine was intrigued. Despite his precautions, someone had penetrated his security measures. That someone was either very lucky or very good. His pride wanted to pass it off as luck, but he doubted it. There were too many unknowns. Despite all they had learned over the last few days, there was still much they didn't know. He could only hope it wasn't someone from BlacKnight. He wistfully cursed his lack of equipment. He couldn't even begin to try to backtrace the intrusion. Once he had the other computer up and running he might have access to more resources, but at this point he was painfully limited.

"Hold on..."  Al couldn't help but lean forward a bit where he stood.  "Roll that back, Ghost's camera.  Can you do that?"

Nine's simian hands manipulated the laptop's keyboard until Ghost's video began moving backwards. 

"There!  Stop there!"  Al moved nimbly for a man of his size to stand by the widescreen monitor.  He pointed at a grainy image in the far distance of the scene, outside the window and across the street from the Radio Shack. 

"Okay, roll it forward."  Al kept his finger on the screen.  "Watch this person."

In the foreground, Tom had just sent his reply message.  The person in the background wasn't detailed enough to make out male or female, but they looked down at something in their hands for a few seconds and then looked right back up towards the Radio Shack just as the new message hit Tom's inbox. 

"Ghost, do not be obvious," Al said over the link, "but I think the person sending these messages is outside across the street.  Looks like blue pants, black and white top, wearing eye shades and standing against the building.  Do you see them?"

"I have her," Ghost said quietly, kneeling down to ostensibly check items near the bottom of the rack. He didn't bother to address the comment regarding messages, since he didn't know what messages Nine was talking about. He assumed it had something to do with Tom's obvious and sudden focus on his communication device. "Young woman, likely untrained to be so obvious." Another furtive glance. "She either feels perfectly safe or is a fool. Shall I apprehend her?"

"That didn't go so well last time."  Al glanced down at Nine.  "What do you reckon?  Send Betty down to get her?"

"That might be best." Nine replied thoughtfully. "However, Tom, may disagree. the young woman indicated she would contact us here, at home, as it were. We have several options, apprehnd her using force or guile, await for her to initiate contact, or a combination of both, pretend to leave and await her contact, yet have Ghost, our most stealthy, trail her and see what there is to learn. If it's neccessary, he may well prove capable of subduing her."

"No," Tom said firmly into the comm device. "We gather what Nine wanted, then return and meet her there. Ghost, keep an eye on her though. See if you can tell if anyone joins her. I'd rather confront her in an area we control, no matter how tenuous that control might be in the grand scheme of things." 

"If that is your wish" Nine said easily. He personally thought that keeping a potential threat from their hideout was of paramount importance, but he wasn't in charge. He pulled up a seperate window, and reviewed the item list he'd garnered.
By paring it down to just the materials he needed to fix the computer and make minor adjustments, Nine calculated that the amount of currency he'd sent with Ghost and Tom, roughly half of what they had gathered during their earlier adventure, would most likely cover the cost of the items.

He relayed this fact to Ghost, along with the items list.  It showed up as a message on the Asian's phone, an itemized list of parts and tools with which Nine ought to be able to complete repairs to the computer taken from the officials' vehicle.

Back in the penthouse, Not Betty grinned happily.  "A visitor!"  Since their arrival, she had minimal privileges outside and was very eager to meet actual people.  People from this place that none of them could remember.  She had avidly watched the humans on television, marveling at how they acted and reacted to various things, learning from them as best she could.  Meeting a real live human, though, was far more exciting.

"I can do."  She smiled again brightly, patting Al's hand excitedly before busying herself around their suite.  It had taken days for her to relax enough for Ghost to leave without her, at first she would rock and gnaw on her nails nervously as she watched the monitors with every single breath.  To see her, for the first time, leave the monitor and be excited about something without him in the room, was a bit of a breakthrough.

Fifteen minutes later, Tom and Ghost were back on the street.  The girl was there but she'd changed locations while the pair worked out the supply list with the people who ran the store. She was now standing on their side of the street but several door down, under the large sign that read "SONY". 

The pair exchanged a look and then moved to the crosswalk and crossed along with the crowd that was also waiting.  There was a definite set of unposted rules about walking about in the city and Ghost had learned quickly that the people here didn't appreciate it when you broke them, and they did it loudly.  As they crossed, he kept one eye on the girl the whole time.

Once safely across, it was only half a block to the entrance to the Marriott.  The men went through one of the tall revolving doors and then, while Tom moved straight to the elevator, Ghost side-stepped around a bit of interior landscaping so as to observe his pursuer more directly.

She was already moving, and hastily so.  The rules he'd been considering only moments before were not high on her priority list as she tried to quickly make her way around oncoming vehicle traffic and cross against the light.  She made it withou tgetting herself killed and moved up close to put her face against the window and try to see inside.

As I suspected, Ghost thought with a smile as she made her own way inside. Untrained. He watched her with professional interest.  Too obviously looking for someone. A slow smile crept onto his face as he contemplated breaking his own training. Just a bit of fun, he thought.

Without looking at her, Ghost stepped out from his concealed position and walked to the elevator.  The sudden appearance seemed to completely throw her off and she hesitated during the action of starting to move in three different directions.  He walked right past her, enjoying the comedy as she tried to act nonchalant.  Finally he, too, was in the private elevator for their suite and moving upstairs. He smiled the entire way up.