Act of War.

"Set-backs can't stop me."

Paul jogged passed people walking or jogging the opposite way--towards the wreckage. Two fire-trucks rushed passed him, hand-rung sirens clanging loudly as they vanished into the distance.  He was shaken. After all, he just escaped a very violent man and the explosive loss of all he owned save for the clothes he wore/what was in them and what money he'd entrusted to the bank. How can you not be shaken?

He stopped after a mile, the people here were milling about more normal-like. He stooped over, pressing his hands just above the knees as he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart, his dry throat feeling rough and gritty and on his tongue he could  taste... bile?  As the scared sweat that had poured out began to dry on his paled face, he stood up and looked around, swallowing saliva to ease his scratchy throat.

He was on the sidewalk of an area somewhat familiar to him. Across the street, people occasionally glanced his way, curious, as they ate beneath the large awning of a French restaurant. People passed him by, giving him only a glance before walking on only to forget him by the hour's end. He took one more deep breath and turned back, heading for the Secarr Agency. Where-else was there to go?

Less than half an hour later he arrived and rushed in to Milly's office area.

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"Paul?" she questioned, setting the paper she was scanning over back onto her desk. "What's the matter?"

He brought his hand to his forehead and pushed it under his hair as he tried to absorb its coolness to help his aching head. He gulped, throat dry again. "You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

"My flat. It was destroyed."

She  stood quickly, chair scooting across the floor. "Is that what all the commotion was about earlier? Oh my God, Paul, are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Just a bit shaken."

"I can only imagine." She glanced down at his trembling legs like they were supporting a burden too heavy. "Shall I ring Arthur?"

"Yes, yes, please do."

"Come, you poor child." She motioned him to sit in a black leather chair next to a potted plant.

"Thanks." He held his hand to his forehead and propped an elbow on his leg, looking down at the floor, thinking.

Back at her desk, she paged Arthur. "Get down here immediately," she commanded as Paul then looked up in shock at her tone, "Don't ask questions. Just get down here." She then disconnected the transmission and looked at Paul. "He'll be here momentarily."

A minute later, Arthur came through a door and looked at Milly with a somewhat worried and angry look. "What's the meaning of--" He was cut off as she motioned to the sitting man. "Paul," he said in surprise.

Standing, Paul went to meet with his superior and shake hands as one of Arthur's hands gripped his arm, holding him steady. "Paul, what has you so shaken?"

"My flat--" he began to repeat what he told the lady at the desk, but was cut off.

"Oh, no. You can't mean that was your flat that went down?"

"It was."

He released him, then turned and paced to an end of the room and turned again to look at the man still shaking slightly. "It was them again? Another attempt."

"Yes."

He shook his head, pondering what to do. Eventually, he said, "We must get you to safety. I'm taking you off this investigation and we'll figure out some place to put you for awhile that's safe. I'm so sorry, Paul. I can't believe all this is happening."

"No." he spoke.

Surprised once more, Arthur stared at him as if he said that man-kind has put a man on the Moon. "What do you mean no? You can't really want to continue with this. Not aft--"

"I have to. There is no one else who could take my place. I know too much--more than anyone else on our side and probably more than I think. It's why they want me dead. And no matter what, they won't stop till I've met my end or I've made them meet theirs. I intend to end this alive."

"You don't have to do anything," He strode forward to Paul, Milly listening quietly at the desk. "You can tell what you know and stay hidden. You said it yourself, they want you dead. But we can  keep you alive. You can't go on with this."

"I can and will."

"No." he said firmly.

"I can. I must. You can't stop me."

"I can."

"How?" he asked, no longer shaking as new-found courage welled up, color returning to his face.

"If you continue with this, Paul, you will no longer be a part of the Secarr Services or any other branch of this agency. Desist and keep quiet for awhile, till this all blows over."

"This won't blow over. It will blow up! I am going to solve this and fix it even if it kills me. With or without your help."

He stared with sad eyes for a few silent seconds. "Then I'm sorry, but you are no longer part of this business and have no more authority to help you continue this investigation. Please, Paul, don't do this."

"I will do this. And your help is not needed. Set-backs can't stop me. Good-day, Arthur, Milly." With that he walked out.

"Paul!" shouted Milly as she rose again, but with a single tear falling from his face as he walked away, he left his friends and co-workers behind without a final glance.

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