Lloyd bounced up the stairs to Lil's flat, carrying a bottle of wine and a duffel bag with a change of clothes. He was going to have to convince her that she should let him cook--for one thing, he enjoyed it. More than that, he didn't want her to feel that she had to be the housekeeper. She had told him some time ago, back when they were just friends, that she hated how she felt she was supposed to grow up to be a model wife, staying home, cooking, cleaning, raising the kids, while her husband went out and made money. (Her parents weren't bad people, but they were first-wave immigrants, and as much a prisoner to their upbringing as anyone else.)

He knew that as much as Lil hated it, she also sort of believed it. He wanted to disabuse her of the notion that he gave a flying fig who was "supposed" to cook. If she continued to let him explore her with wanton abandon, he'd cook and clean every night for the rest of their lives.

He knocked on the door, humming idly. No answer. A bit odd, he thought. He knocked again.

Maybe she's taking a shower, he thought, but no, he didn't hear any water running. Indeed, pressing his ear to the door, he didn't hear anything.

"Maybe she stopped to pick up dinner," he said aloud, reaching for his mobile. He punched in her number, and the phone rang, and rang, and rang.

The line picked up. "Hullo, this is Lilavati, I'm doing something amazingly fabulous at the moment, so if you'd be so kind as to leave a message, I'll get back to you whenever I feel like it."

He sighed. "Hi, love, it's Lloyd. I'm at your building and you're evidently not in. Give me a call back and let me know what our agenda is for the evening. Love you."

He hung up, and sighed. He turned, and the telephone rang. He checked the call ID, and smiled. "Hullo, Lil, you're late," he said, mock-reproachfully.

There was a pause, and then something he was not expecting

"Good evening, Mr. Polley," the gravelly voice said. "I trust you are well."

Lloyd stood stone-faced for just a moment, his heart sinking damn near to the center of the Earth.

"Who is this?" he stammered, as the terrible thoughts tumbled through his head.

"Who I am is of no concern to you. Who is with me, though, most certainly is. I have your girlfriend, Mr. Polley. I thought you should know."

The voice was low, almost a whisper. Lloyd thought it sounded familiar. He closed his eyes, and said, "If you hurt her, I will find you, and I swear on all that is holy, I will kill you."

The man laughed. "Mr. Polley, the only reason she might be hurt is if you fail to do what I tell you to do."

Lloyd leaned against the wall, bracing himself. "Let me talk to her."

There was a beep, and the voice, now somewhat distorted, said, "All right, you're on speaker."

"Lil!" Lloyd fairly cried. "Are you all right?"

"Lloyd, you can't do whatever it is they want you to do. They want to hurt you, Lloyd, and I won't let them do that. Please, you have to run away!" Lil said, before there was the sound of a smack.

"I said not to hurt her!" Lloyd shouted. "I will find you. And I--I'll crush you to death. I swear."

"Mr. Polley, I imagine you would." the voice said, coming off of speakerphone. "Your girlfriend was merely slapped--she was hysterical and needed to be calmed down. No permanent harm will come to her. If--I say again--you do what I tell you."

"I'll do anything you want."

"Good. Good man. Meet me at the northwest bank of the Serpentine tonight at midnight. Come alone. If I even get a hint of police presence, I leave and I slit your girlfriend's throat."

"I want her freed," Lloyd said. "I'll do anything, but you need to release her."

"Come now, Mr. Polley. Surely you realize that you're not bargaining from a position of strength?"

Lloyd slid down the wall. "All right," he said. "Midnight. But she'd better damn well be unharmed."

The gravelly-voiced American said, "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Polley. She'll be none the worse for wear. Midnight. We'll be switching this phone off now. Do not call again."

And with that, the line went dead.

Lloyd sat for a minute, and then stood up. He had work to do.

* * *

Teri sat down in her apartment, tired and spent. She was in over her head, she feared--she wasn't worthy of this post.

She was trying to be daring and astute, like her late husband. Damn it, this was a job for Jake, not her. She wasn't daring. And she never quite believed that she was as astute as she was.

All she knew was that her gut told her that she was doing the right thing, even as her head told her it was a huge risk. But her gut and her head both told her that they would all be facing huge risks soon enough.

When you've got nineteen and you're sure the dealer has twenty, you have to hit, no matter the odds.

Teri started as there was a knock at the door. "Who could that be?" she muttered, rising and heading for the door. She opened it, and smiled, as her fiancé walked in and hit her with a kiss that seemed to melt away all her worries.

"What are you doing here?" she said, after a good minute.

"Wanted to surprise you," he said. "Your mom and dad have Trina for the night. I'm flying back in the morning, but--well, I wanted to show you that I really do want this to go well for you."

Teri arched an eyebrow. "You're sure you're not just trying to remind me that I could have this every night if we were in Minneapolis?"

"Honest," said Mike, steering his fiancée to the bedroom. "After all, if I'd wanted to remind you of that, I'd have bought you the ticket."

"Fair enough," she said, smiling, ushering Mike toward the bedroom.

"So how," Mike said, "would you like to spend the evening?"

"Well, first of all, I'd like you to do that thing."

"What thing?" said Mike, grinning and feigning ignorance.

"Oh, like you don't know?"

"All right," said Mike. He paused, and nodded, and whispered something.

And dropped out of sight.

"Wait a second." said Teri, taking a step back and dropping down, noting that he'd hit about an inch and a half tall. "You did it all by yourself!"

"Well," said Mike, feeling the heady mix of fear and lust he always felt when facing his titanic lover, "I thought you've been busy, so--"

"You've never done that well before! Oh, you get a treat tonight," she said, kissing her tiny lover.

Mike smiled. "Yes, I do. So, shall we?"

"Oh, yes," said Teri. "Yes indeed."

She lifted Mike up onto the bed, but didn't disrobe. That was part of the thing.

She wondered where he would enter--sometimes it was up her pant-leg, sometimes through a sleeve. When she wore skirts, he almost always chose that route, she thought, laying back, smiling.

Mike took the circuitous route. He walked past Teri's immense arm, up past her shoulder, admiring how her breasts rose above, a mountain range of sex above him. He walked around to her head, and planting a kiss on the base of her neck, he ascended her shirt collar, alighting on her sternum between the twin peaks.

He kissed them, too, but he continued on, pulling himself up and over her bra, moving down her stomach toward his destination. He pulled himself into her pants, then her panties, and found her clit.

Putting his feet firmly on it, he looked up at the canopy above. Perfect.

And with that, he began dancing.

It wasn't easy. It was slippery, for one thing, and quickly became slipperier. But he had found--quite accidentally--that a soft-shoe routine was almost perfect for drawing a response from his love. It made him glad that he'd gone out for high school musicals back in the day--he'd always been secure enough in his heterosexuality that he had no fear of show tunes, and given the somewhat unexpected skills it had given him later in life, he had no regrets about it whatsoever.

He danced, humming idly, varying the pace from fast to slow, trying to keep time with his fiancée's movements, until finally she began to spasm. He leapt up, as he always did, and grabbed the cotton canopy, and bounced hard on her clit a few times, springing back up with each landing.

When she stopped moving, he alighted again, and did a backward somersault onto her slick outer lips, sliding halfway down, then braking as best he could and slipping inside.

There was a lot of work for him to do. And he was enjoying every second of it.

Back in the macroscopic world, Teri squirmed happily. Mike was a good man. And he'd made her forget about today. And she was glad not to have any worry anymore. It would work out. It had to.

* * *

Lloyd walked down the embankment toward the Serpentine, looking back over his shoulder toward Kensington Gardens. Hyde Park was largely deserted at this time of night, and he expected he'd probably be one of the few people around.

He drew near the northwest edge of the lake, felling uneasily like he was trying to watch everywhere at once. He got to the edge, and made a point of trying to relax. Not that he could, but he thought it might be a good idea to try.

He saw the man approaching from some distance, slowly. He looked almost familiar in his gait, but Lloyd couldn't recognize him with a fedora pulled low, and a trench coat with its collar turned up. The man looked, Lloyd thought, like someone playing at being a spy.

It wasn't funny.

The man drew a bit closer, and now Lloyd caught his eye.

And said, "Henry--you?"

"Yes, Lloyd," Henry Bigg replied, pulling a drag off of a cigarette. "Me."

Lloyd had not counted on this. He tried to stick to the script he'd written out, but all that came out was, "Why?"

"Lloyd, I'm a part of an organization that is very old. We kept the secret of GTS for hundreds of years, fighting the women who wanted to use it to upset the natural order of our society. But that changed eleven years ago, when traitors within our organization sold us out, uniting with moderate women to create a new organization that sought…balance."

Bigg took another drag, and tossed the cigarette aside. "That's the Growth Triumphant Society you've seen on the news, Lloyd, a pack of traitors and charlatans, men who hate men and women who hate women."

Lloyd stared at Henry for a good long minute, not really caring a whit for the expository dialogue. "Where's Lil?"

"We'll get to her in good time. Lloyd, there are others like me--some undercover in the Society, others freelancers like myself. Our leadership is involved at the highest level of government. We've worked the past five years to restart our program, to supersede the Society's role as protectors of the flame--and, moreover, to begin to reshape GTS to more noble, manly aims. It isn't right that women should be asserting their equality so vociferously. It's not what God intended.

"The Society and the League, though--they've got adepts. People strong in the use of GTS. You, Lloyd--you're an adept, too, though you don't have any training to speak of. You're going to help us reestablish the patriarchy, Lloyd."

Lloyd said, "I don't think there's anything wrong with women being equal."

"I know," said Henry. "But you do love Lil. And because you love her, you'll help us. Or she'll die."

Lloyd said, simply, "I want to see her."

Henry laughed. "Right, like I brought her here."

"Oh, you brought her," said Lloyd. "I can feel it."

He could feel it, he thought. He knew she'd been placed in Henry's coat pocket. He got a sense of the rough feel, a vague sense of her terror, of her wanting him to flee at all costs.

"Show her to me," he said, sharply.

Henry shrugged. "All right," he said, and reached into his pocket, placing a six-inch tall Lilavati on the ground.

"Completely unharmed, so far," said Henry. "If you want to keep her that way, I suggest you do as I--"

Henry did not complete the sentence, so surprised was he to find himself suddenly shrinking to three inches tall.

"Damn!" he said, as he wheeled in the grass. He started to work on countermeasures--he knew Lloyd didn't know enough to bind a spell--when suddenly, a radiant, twelve-foot-tall Indian woman caught his face with a roundhouse kick.

Henry went down, and out.

"Nice!" boomed Lloyd, who quickly restored her to her proper scale.

He started to kiss her, but she said, "There are others in the car. We have to go, now!"

Lloyd grabbed her and they took off running, as they heard the sound of running from behind them. The hair on the back of Lloyd's neck stood up, and he suddenly turned and raised his hands, and yelled, "No!"

The shrinking spell deflected off his parry, but he knew that this wasn't going to work long-term. Lloyd buoyed Lil up the embankment and onto the busy street.

"Are there any more?" asked Lloyd, but Lil shook her head.

"Just the two."

"All right," said Lloyd, calmly turning. "Let's see how the bastards like being bug-sized."

He fired away, and watched the two men try to hold out. He wanted it more, though; he knew, somehow, that if he wanted it more, he'd win. And so he pushed them down, down, down in his mind, down to insignificant.

When they dropped out of sight, he grabbed Lil's hand.

"Let's go," he said.

They ducked and weaved their way to the nearest tube station, rushing down into the bowels of it, trying to lose themselves in the crowd.

"I have to go, leave the country," Lloyd said, hushed, as they got onto the red line train. "If Henry was telling the truth, this isn't just a few guys after me--it's the government."

"I know," said Lil. "I'm coming with you."

Henry looked at her, and frowned. "You can come with me if you want, but--I don't know how safe it's going to be. And I don't know as you'd really want to give up your life here for a life on the run."

Lil said, simply, "We'll need to go to my flat quick, I need to grab a few things."

"I already did, in case--"

Lil stopped his sentence with a kiss. "Good thinking, love," she whispered, "but what did you get?"

Lloyd reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small coin purse. "Reduced it," he said, as he slowly grew the small pack to actual size.

"I hope you grabbed my passport," Lil said, with a wry smile.

"Yes, it's in there."

"Did you take it out of the holder?"

"No, I--"

"Good. I've got a couple credit cards stowed in there. We'd best get a move on--we have to decide whether to head to Europe or America."

"Europe," said Lloyd. "I'm afraid of Americans at the moment."

"Indeed," said Lil. "Then we'd best get to St. Pancras. We'll want to get on the CTRL in the morning."

Lloyd paused. "Lil--I--are you sure? I mean, I want you to come with me--I'd miss you so much--but it could be dangerous."

"Don't go wobbly on me, Lloyd," she said, pulling him close and kissing him again. "We're engaged, right? If you go on the lam, I go on the lam."

Lloyd felt like crying. He didn't particularly want to go on the lam, and he most especially didn't want to drag Lil along with him.

But sometimes we must do things that we hate to do. Lloyd grabbed Lil's hand, and held it fast.

* * *

The small bush plane taxied to a stop, and Wafia slung her pack over her shoulder. She knew he would be jostled around; she was glad of it. She hoped he was suffering.

If it had been up to her, she would have killed him straight away. He was scum--a man who stood between her sisters and the conquest of humankind, the end of the old ways and the start of a new system of sisterhood and freedom, where the men would serve the women, as it was meant to be.

She waved to Leah as she deplaned, noting that she had with her an unfamiliar woman. Wafia smiled. She could feel her power from across the tarmac.

Another adept. They were close. So very close to victory.

"This had better be good," Jackson said, gesturing to the waiting Hummer. "If you're to be in Mecca come Dhu al-Hijja, you've got a lot of mileposts to hit first. Qatar especially."

"I know, Madame President. Trust me, this is very good indeed. But first, who is this, may I ask?"

Jackson smiled slightly. "Zoraida Abarca Vivas, meet Wafia al-Asadabad. Wafia, Zoraida."

Zoraida reached over and shook Wafia's hand, and started. She could feel the power flowing from her counterpart. She was strong. So very strong.

"I'm honored to meet you," said Zoraida, quietly. "I've heard quite a bit about you in the short time I've been here."

"I'm sure you have," Wafia said. "It is right that you should be here for this," said Wafia.

They drove on in silence for some time, discussing idly plans for recruitment in Muslim nations. Zoraida found it curious that they had not yet discussed why Wafia was there, but she was smart enough that she simply held her tongue, and watched and listened. Soon enough, they were at New Myrina, reduced and driving through the streets.

"We will need a secure facility," said Wafia quietly.

Leah nodded. "Stockade," she said to the driver, who headed for a small fortified building ahead.

They walked into the small jail, and Wafia calmly pulled out a matchbook-sized container. "Now, everyone needs to be on their guard. Dampener off."

There was a thrum as the morphogenetic dampener powered down. "Don't shut it down completely," said Wafia. "We'll need it powered up right away, on my signal. All right, steady…."

She leaned over, pushing the small container open. With a flourish, she flipped it over, and a small jewel fell.

Before it had gone an inch, the jewel was a reconstituted man, growing quickly and gunning with all his might.

Scott had barely had time to compose himself before he found himself dropping, but he knew that he would have to be reanimated to be interrogated; it gave him an advantage. He effortlessly reversed the spell, and hit the first titaness he saw with a reduction spell. As he hit the floor and bounced up, he took some satisfaction in the fact that it was Leah Jackson who now stood a foot tall.

"Get him!" she squeaked, and Wafia approached.

"Power up the dampener!" Wafia said, as she raised her right hand.

Scott knew he had but a moment or two. He tried to cross her up by morphing her into an image of Mohammed; he wasn't usually given to casual blasphemy, even when he didn't believe in that being blasphemed, but he was in a hurry, and wanted to throw her off-guard.

The spell didn't connect, though. A force from his left parried it before it could reach its destination.

And then he felt the woman strike him, trying to shrink him.

He struggled, as Wafia joined her.

He looked at the women. They were both adepts.

Oh, shit.

He staggered backward, feeling his height dwindling away. He watched Wafia and the stranger slowly expand, reaching toward the ceiling. He couldn't be more than four or five inches tall…

Suddenly, there was a whine as the dampener came online. Scott dropped to the floor, as the new adept approached him, striding to within a few feet. He stared up her long, jean-clad leg, and saw her suddenly raise her trainers to a few dozen feet above them, and bring them down hard…

"No!" said Jackson, still tiny. "He's too valuable alive."

"I know," said Zoraida, pausing maybe an inch or two above Scott's head. "But I wanted to scare him a little."

Wafia grinned. "I like you. We're going to get along well."

Scott, for his part, was terrified. He was no match for this group, not alone.

Heck, he and Sarah might not be a match for them.

For the first time since New York, he started to think they might just lose.

* * *

Henry Bigg sat on his couch, a bag of ice on his forehead, replaying the conversation he'd had with the chief.

"You blew it," the chief had said. "We need that Brit if we're gonna survive this."

"I know," said Henry. "Don't worry. I've already put my contingency plan into effect. They're headed for Europe. We'll find them soon enough."

"We'd better," the chief grumbled. "This is our last chance. If we fail, it will mean the end of fifty thousand years of male preeminence."

"I know," said Henry. "Don't worry, chief."

The line had simply gone dead.

Henry nursed his aching head, and hoped like crazy that he was right, that his man in Calais was ready. More ready than he had been, anyhow.

He hadn't counted on Lloyd fighting back. He'd never been much of a fighter. But evidently, Lil brought out the best in him.

Henry smiled grimly. Yes, she was the lever. He'd been right about that. He just had to wield her the right way next time.

* * *

Sarah Kensington walked into work early in the morning, sighing and trying to fight a feeling of paranoia that had overtaken her in the last day. She'd tried to visualize where Scott was, and failed. That bothered her. She had a very bad feeling about this.

She walked into ops. "Anything going on, Alice?"

"Nothing of note, Madam Chair. We--"

Suddenly, alarm klaxons blared. Richardson wheeled.

"I don't--how?"

"What?" said Sarah, walking into the room.

Richardson swallowed. "We have a security breach," she said, dry-mouthed, "on the thirteenth floor."