by Andy Mangels
Pursuit
( Roswell’’ - 7 )
Andy Mangels
Michael A. Martin
TV Series Placement: Post-Season 3VISIONS OF DANGERLiz, Max, Maria, Michael, and Kyle didn’t expect that when they left Roswell, their lives would suddenly become perfect. They were, after all, on the run from the FBI. But they certainly didn’t think things could get much worse. They’re learning how wrong they were. The FBI has tracked them via their email accounts and is hot on the group’s trail. It can only be a matter of time before they are apprehended.Meanwhile, in New York City, three alien Dupes are captured by the police. When the Feds are brought on to the case, the Special Unit recognizes the Dupes-and wonders why "Tess," “Michael,” and “Isabel,” are so different. Little do they know they are dealing with a case of mistaken identity. And the real Isabel has more pressing concerns, if Liz’s latest vision is to be believed….This is the first of a two-part finale for the Roswell saga, wrapping up all the storylines from the television and book series! Read the exciting conclusion in TURNABOUT. . . coming soon!
Andy Mangels, Michael A. Martin
Pursuit
(Roswell"-07)
TV Series Placement: Post-Season 3
Visions of danger
Liz, Max, Maria, Michael, and Kyle didn’t expect that when they left Roswell, their lives would suddenly become perfect. They were, after all, on the run from the FBI. But they certainly didn’t think things could get much worse. They’re learning how wrong they were. The FBI has tracked them via their email accounts and is hot on the group’s trail. It can only be a matter of time before they are apprehended.
Meanwhile, in New York City, three alien Dupes are captured by the police. When the Feds are brought on to the case, the Special Unit recognizes the Dupes-and wonders why "Tess," “Michael,” and “Isabel,” are so different. Little do they know they are dealing with a case of mistaken identity. And the real Isabel has more pressing concerns, if Liz’s latest vision is to be believed…
This is the first of a two-part finale for the Roswell saga, wrapping up all the storylines from the television and book series! Read the exciting conclusion in TURNABOUT… coming soon!
From the television series developed by Jason Katims
SIMON PULSE New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for diis "stripped book. “
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Simon Pulse edition September 2003 ™ and © 2003 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Regency Entertainment (USA) Inc., and Monarchy Enterprises B.V All rights reserved.
SIMON PULSE An imprint of Simon amp; Schuster Children's Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Designed by O'Lanso Gabbidon The text of this book was set in Berkeley Book.
Printed in the United States of America 10 987654321 Library of Congress Control Number 2003100466 ISBN 0-689-85522-2 I dedicate this book to Richard and Christie Finn, who have been both friends and supporters of my professional career for over fifteen years. M.
This book is for my eldest niece, Becky Peabody Estepp. Your sense of humor helps keep me sane. M. A. M.
PROLOGUE
What Has Gone Before…
1999: September 23. Journal entry one. I'm Liz Parker, and five days ago I died. After that, things got really weird…
Liz Parker was a relatively normal teenage girl, working at her parents' alien-themed diner, the Crashdown Cafe. Then came that fateful fall day when a gunman accidentally shot Liz during an argument with another customer. A boy Liz knew from high school, Max Evans, knelt beside her and put his hand over her bullet wound, healing her completely. But when Max ran away, and Liz saw a glowing silver handprint on her stomach, she knew she had to find out the truth.
Max soon told her the truth, an unbelievable story that would pull Liz and her friends into drama, danger, romance, and an interstellar conflict. Max and his friends were aliens…
July 1947: In the desert outside Roswell, New Mexico, an alien spaceship crashed to the ground. The government soon swooped in to quarantine the site, issuing a press release that the wreckage of a flying disk had been recovered. Hours later, the press release was rescinded, and the government claimed it was actually a weather balloon.
But the government had in its possession… for a short time… material from the crash, including eight gestation pods. Those pods were later liberated from the government by the two aliens who survived the crash. Four of the pods were placed in a desert cave… along with alien technology known as the Granilith… and were watched over by the alien who came to call himself Nasedo, a Mesaliko Indian word meaning "visitor. “
The other four pods were taken to New York by the other alien, who took human form as Kal Langley. But after Langley got involved in the film industry, he attempted to become more human, and left his pod charges to gestate on their own.
Nasedo watched over the pods in Roswell, but spent much of his time hunting down and killing those who investigated the Roswell crash. In 1989, three of the pods broke open, and a trio of seemingly human six-year-old children emerged. Wandering toward the highway, two of them were found and adopted by Phillip and Diane Evans, and who named them Max and Isabel. The third child was adopted into an abusive foster family and was given the name Michael Guerin.
As the children matured, they learned they shared uncanny powers, and the strange memories of theit emergence from the pods led them to question their origins. It wasn't until their teen years that they began to discover the larger truth about themselves. And their revelation to Liz Parker of their identities started them on their path…
1999: Max, Isabel, and Michael discovered that they were part of the "Royal Four" from the warring star system of Antar. There, Max had been King Zan; Isabel had been his sister, Vilandra; Michael had been his second-in-command, Rath; and Ava had been his wife.
Ava was the occupant of the fourth pod, but she had been raised separately from the others by Nasedo. As a teen, she was reintroduced into their lives as Tess Harding. Max, Isabel, Michael, and Tess were not fully human, or fully alien. Their genetic makeup mixed elements of both, giving them special powers. Max could heal others, Isabel could "dreamwalk" into human minds, Michael could wield destructive or defensive energy, and Ava could "mindwarp" others into seeing or doing what she wanted. They all could manipulate molecular structure to some extent.
Following Max's healing of Liz, others soon found out about the existence of the alien-human hybrids among them. Liz's friend Maria DeLuca fell for the bad-boy antics of Michael, even though their relationship was rocky. Mutual friend Alex Whitman was attracted to Isabel, though she didn't return his affection. Sheriff Jim Valenti started out as a nemesis to the kids, but soon came to understand that they needed protection more than exposure, especially after Max healed Jims son, Kyle, preventing his death from a gunshot wound.
The Roswell teens would come to learn that they had many enemies. A classified government group known as the Special Unit went to great lengths to capture them especially after Nasedo killed several of its top agents. And other aliens from the Antarian system had come to Earth to kill the Royal Four; chief among them were the
"Skins," who could renew their essences using human bodies, which they called "husks. “
Meanwhile, the second set of pods had been opened in New York, and the four alien teens there grew up bitter, angry, and tough. After Rath and Vilandra (calling herself "Lonnie") killed Zan, they brought Ava with them to Roswell in an attempt to broker an interstellar peace using Max as a pawn. Their gambit didn't work, however.
Following the death of Nasedo, Tess moved up her plan to work a deal with Antarian forces on her own. She manipulated Max into sleeping with her, then became pregnant with his alien child. She also mindwarped Alex into helping her, eventually killing him in the process. When she was exposed as a murderess, Tess used the Granilith to return to Antar to give Max's heir to his enemies. The reasons behind her treachery remained a mystery.
Desperate to recover his child, Max became unpredictable. He tracked down Kal Langley and forced him to help Max try to return to Antar, but they were unsuccessful. Isabel, rebelling against Max's orders that none of the aliens get further involved with humans, married the man she had been secretly dating, Jesse Ramirez. Michael grew restless under Max's unfocused leadership and attempted to take control of the group himself. And Tess eventually returned with Max's child, which had been rejected on Antar since it was fully human.
In spring 2002 everything came to a boiling point. 1 Special Unit was closing in, gathering evidence a teens. In an attempt to redeem herself, Tess blew up the nearby military base, but this caused further complications for the group. Max sent his child away so he could live safely with a human family, and the group found itself on the run from Roswell, traveling in a VW Microbus.
Max, Liz, Isabel, Michael, Maria, and Kyle now travel the country, trying to help others along the way. Max and Liz have finally married, but their happiness is tinged with hardship. They are all still pursued by the Special Unit, the Skins, and other aliens hidden among the human race. Even though they escaped Roswell, they cannot escape the forces arrayed against them…
1 New York City. Tuesday, April 5, 1994.
I he storage locker's corrugated metal door had seen better days. When Quinn touched it, it rattled like a chain dragged by a ghost.
"So you lost your keys again, huh?" Rafferty asked, shaking his head as he pulled the pry bar from his tool belt and stuck it into the padlock. The lock gleamed like it was brand new.
Quinn wondered how many times the aging, spike-haired punker was going to repeat his little mantra about the keys. "Yeah, Rafe," he said tartly. "I lost my key again. Or the lock's seized up. Or maybe I just like watching a manly guy like you forcing doors open. Take your pick. So you gonna open it up or not? “
Quinn might have broken into the locker himself, without any help from the man in charge of the storage facility. But too many uncomfortable questions would have arisen if Rafferty had caught him at it.
Rafe held up his free hand, as if fending off Quinn's words. "Okayokayokay. Don't need a loada mouth outta you. “
"Likewise," Quinn said, leaning against the cinder-block wall and lighting another unfiltered cigarette. He knew he needed to keep calm. The cache of drugs and automatic weapons Mr. Conroy had stashed here would set him up for the rest of the decade. If his deal with Nasr went down by tonight, before any of Conroy's other guys realized what Quinn had done.
Mr. Conroy sure doesn't need the stuff anymore himself, Quinn thought, hoping nobody would find what was left of his former boss before he'd fled the country and was safely set up in a beachfront estate on Grand Cayman.
Rafferty's close-cropped, dyed-blond hair bristled like the quills of an angry porcupine. "Yer damn lucky I don't stand on ceremony, kid. I could always decide to enforce the 'no key, no get in' rule, ya know. “
Unimpressed, Quinn blew a cloud of smoke into the other man's face. "Yeah, Rafe. And I could always decide to tell the cops about some of the unsavory characters you're in the habit of doing business with. “
"More unsavory than you?" Rafferty said, his eyes narrowing. Quinn wondered for a moment whether he was going to raise the pry bar and try to brain him with it. Then, with a sullen scowl, the punker twisted the bar forcefully. The padlock shattered into countless tiny pieces, which rained down onto the concrete.
"Good work, Rafe," Quinn said, favoring Rafferty with a lopsided grin as he grabbed the storage locker's door handle. "You ought to consider going pro. “
Rafferty only watched in silence as Quinn pulled upward on the rust-and-graffiti-covered door.
It wouldn't budge.
"Is there another lock somewhere on this thing?" Quinn said after a second unsuccessful try at rolling the door upward.
Rafferty swore under his breath, then elbowed Quinn aside. The punker pulled upward on the door handle, his far thicker muscles straining against his mustard-splotched T-shirt. The door began slowly rolling upward, shrieking and squealing in protest all the while until it finally came to a halt, jammed maybe three feet off the ground.
Quinn made a rude gesture at the stubborn door. He'd never had this kind of trouble getting it open when he and the guys had stashed the goodies in here for Mr. Conroy. It's almost like something in there doesn't want to be found.
The punk yanked again at the door, which remained stubbornly immobile. He stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Dunno if 1 really want to see what you're keeping in here, anyway. “
"Then don't look," Quinn said, getting onto his back so he could slide under the partially open door. Though he hadn't anticipated having to crawl into the storage locker, he'd come prepared with a flashlight, mainly to make sure he didn't overlook anything of value that might have been tucked into one of the storage shed's dark corners.
Rafferty started crawling in after him, shining a flashlight of his own into the darkness. "Uh-uh. This place belongs to me. If you or your boss has turned this space into something outta Silence oj the Lambs, then I wanna know about it. Before the cops show up askin' questions' Quinn thought about that for a moment. Rafferty usually could be counted on to look the other way when it came to contraband… especially when he knew that said contraband was shortly to disappear from the premises. And Quinn wasn't fool enough to stash Conroy's body here. At this moment, Mr. C's getting up dose and personal with the East River 's marine life, he thought.
"Suit yourself," Quinn said aloud. He rose to his feet once he was all the way inside the dark chamber and shined the flashlight around at the heaps of crates and boxes that lined the walls and covered much of the concrete floor.
There seemed to be a lot more crates and boxes in there than he'd remembered. Quinn realized that this might take a lot longer than he'd anticipated. Then, with a curse, he understood why.
"Hey, I don't think all of this stuff is mine," Quinn said. Hastily, he added, "I mean, Mr. Conroy's. “
In the crossed beams of the two flashlights, Quinn could see that Rafferty hadn't noticed his slip. In fact, the punker now looked somewhat guilty.
Quinn moved closer to Rafferty. The punker might have been bigger, but he was also pretty easy to intimidate. "Hey, Rafe, you been doubling up on storage spaces again? “
"I hadda move some stuff around, just for this week. I was running out of space, and I had some paying customers to please. I gotta make a living, too, you know. “
"Maybe you'd like to explain that to Mr. Conroy," Quinn said, enjoying making the punk squirm. Sure, Mr. C was dead, but Rafferty didn't know that yet.
Quinn saw Rafferty's eyes go as wide as pizza pans, even in the semidarkness. "Nothing's gone missing, man. I promise. It was just, you know, a temporary move, that's all. I just pushed your stuff farther back into the shed, behind some of these crates from that Langley outfit. “
" Langley?" Quinn said, feeling a jolt of dread. "Sounds like FBI to me. “
Rafferty emitted a dismissive chortle. " Langley 's some Hollywood guy, you dope. Actors and musicians and like that. “
Gotta stop jumping at shadows, Quinn thought, rubbing his jaw.
But as he considered the stuck metal door, his suspicions rose again. If Raje really just finished moving all this stuff in here, then why all this trouble getting the damn door open? When he shone his light toward the ceiling he immediately saw the problem. One of the stacks of crates was piled so high that it interfered with the track into which the shed's upward-rolling metal door was supposed to slide.
Sticking the flashlight into the pocket of his black leather jacket, Quinn began climbing the stack of boxes. Rafferty shined his flashlight beam on him as he ascended. Once he reached the top crate, which was maybe ten feet off the concrete floor, he gave it a good hard shove. It didn't move very far.
" Hollywood, my ass," he said. He shoved the crate again, harder this time, and it scooted away from him by about a foot. The crate immediately beneath it shifted a little as well.
Suddenly, the top two crates were teetering on the edge of the stack.
"Hey! I didn't tell you to start an avalanche! “
"And Mr. Conroy didn't tell you to fill his space up with stuff that doesn't belong here," Quinn said, and shoved again before jumping clear.
The top two crates toppled over and hit the hard concrete with a resounding crash, their heavy wooden lids flying off with the force of the impact. The echoes of the collision almost drowned out Rafferty's no doubt pungent. curses as Quinn moved to the now-unobstructed door, which he opened fully to let in the daylight. Then he glanced back at one of the two smashed-open crates.
What the hell? Quinn moved toward the crates, kneeling to peer inside. What he saw reminded him of Mork amp; Mindy, his favorite sitcom. Only this wasn't a giant egg. "Mork, calling Orson," he whispered.