Chapter Four

	Against the paint peeling walls of her sparsely
furnished, one room apartment Sarah Wood had covered
every conceivable 
inch of wall space with pictures of Robert Savage.
Sarah now greeted those pictures like old friends as
she entered her apartment 
struggling to unlock the door with one hand and
balance a grocery bag on the other. She only had a few
groceries since most of her
money was earned the hard way through pick pocketing
and welfare. She had a social worker that occasionally
came by and even got her 
a job or two but Sarah rarely lasted two weeks.
Everyday the pull or the movie theater down the street
from her or the television 
which broadcast her favorite man right to her tiny
apartment would over take her and she would forget
about going into some crummy 
job that just remained her of her own small crummy
life. No it was better to stay immersed in the pretty
images of happy people 
popping out from screens big and small. Sarah prepared
a package of freeze dried noodle soup and flicked on
the television. Happy 
with perfect lives streaked in front of her. The glow
off of the warm tube soothed her and she dreamily let
the rays soak over her 
body and drain into her mind. 
	Sam felt equally happy to be in the back of a long
stretch limo. Silence, a chance to gather himself, by
himself for a change. 
It was a nice feeling. He was apparently be taken
home, or more accurately to Robert's home. He let out
a sigh. He wished he was really
 being taken home. Straight back to Indiana. Back to
the farm, to his family. Still, he thought to himself
as he stretched out his 
legs in front of him and leaned back against the plush
seats, he had to admit this was not a bad second. It
was the rare leap that landed
him in the lap of luxury and with time to enjoy it no
less. "A well deserved bonus Sammy boy," Sam thought
to himself in the emptiness of
the car. All at once Sam sat bolt upright. Sammy Boy?
What was that? And where did that self congratulating
ego come from? Him? No, it must
this Savage guy. "Boy, oh boy," Sam thought to
himself, "I have got to keep on top of these little
outburst. This guy must be some piece of 
work to have this much ego to spare." Hearing no other
disturbing ego trips run through his mind for the
moment Sam slunk back against the 
plush seats once again and let the hum of the tires
lull him to sleep.

Sleep was the furthest thing from Al Calavicci's mind. He paced up and down the front of the conference room where Donna, Gooshie 
and Beeks had gathered. They all watched silently now as Al continued his rhythmic march up and down, finally Donna broke the silence. "Al,
I'm not sure that I fully understand. Sam is supposed to make sure that this person gets killed? How is that putting right what once went 
wrong? Are you telling me that this person's death would some how be a good thing?" Al had stopped his pacing to listen to Donna but before   
he could answer her Beeks spoke up. "Maybe this person is an organ donor or is responsible for a cure being found for a incurable disease. 
There are many examples of one death actually producing good results. Still it does seem a little strange that Sam was thrown in to this
person's life only to make sure that they show up for their execution." Beeks said the last part in a quiet tone almost as if she was 
saying more to herself as a way of making sense of this whole mess. Al looked around the conference room. Tired, worn out expressions 
stared back blankly at him. Expressions of battle fatigue from people who had seen more years of combat then they would care to remember. Al
shuddered slightly to think of how many scars they would all carry after this whole business was through. He could never bring himself to think
of what that ending might be. He had to believe it would all come to a close with a happy ending and Sam back where he belongs but, as Al knew 
all to well sometimes what you want simply can not be. It was a hard lesson for him to learn after Vietnam and Beth having remarried. He could
wish all he wanted but the ending was always going to remain the same. 
"Ah Admiral?" the squeaky voice and bad Haliotis of Gooshie broke Al's thoughts. "Is this a case of a death for the greater good?" Al cleared 
his throat "unfortunately it would seem that way. This guy is famous right? And Ziggy feels there is a good chance that because of his celebrity
he is destined to stand as a martyr who will lead  people to get behind creating new stalking laws." the original history shows that an attack
did take place on the night of the MTV Music awards but, an unlucky fan who had stepped up for an autograph received the bad end of the bullet
heading for Savage. Savage gave money to the family afterwards and went on to compose a song dedicated to her which stayed on the charts for 
24 weeks but nothing was done to change the laws that would have allowed the police to step in much sooner on this and many cases. Everyone 
remained silent for a moment. Finally Donna stood up, "I just won't have it!" Al began to speak but then thought better of it. If Al knew 
knew nothing else in his life he knew enough not to get in the path physically or verbally of an angry woman. "Sam cannot risk his life on a chance.
What if Savage does not leap in time. Is everyone here ready to accept the price of Sam for a law that may or may not work? I refuse to just sit 
around and wait to see if using Sam as live bait is the right way to go." Al broke in to Donna's angry questioning, "Unfortunately, we may have no 
other choice."