Rogue Magic

By G. F. Kaye

Sensing they were about to get back to the real reason for this particular meeting, everyone went through the process of filling cups and grabbing fresh donuts. When all had goodies and were perched in various places around the office, Patty cleared her throat to get their attention. “As I was saying,” she began, passing out photos, Marlowe looking up at her sharply after glancing at an obviously feminine figure, “the cops haven’t had a great deal of success finding our girl. Even with the picture a security camera got the other night, there’s been no luck, since, as of this morning, no one’s been able to ID her, and she hasn’t been seen since the broadcast.
At that, Elise cleared her throat and Patty gave her the floor. “I have a very good reason why there is no record of this girl anywhere on your world,” she began.
Shaking her head with a sudden flash of prescience, Marlowe groaned, murmuring, “Oboy! Here it comes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. F. Kaye
• Release date: Jun 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005926489

G. F. Kaye

G. F. Kaye lives in Grand Rapids, MI, in a lovingly restored 1839 farmhouse. The work was all done personally, including the exterior, which is shaked in the traditional New England style. This has been listed as a "dying American Art Form. The author also paints in most media, and is a neighborhood preservation activist and avid gardener. Of Eastern European descent, the author has always felt a close affinity with the soil and growing things. Writing has been a lifelong off and on affair, with serious efforts being made since 2002. The author has since completed numerous works, and is in the process of final editing them and publishing them as e-books. "I only write when I'm having fun doing it," is the author's credo. The belief is that if the author is having fun writing the works, then people will also have fun reading them. This is reflected in the author's 'tongue in cheek' style, which has been referred to as a cross between the works of John Steinbeck and Mickey Spillane.

Book preview

Rogue Magic

G. F. KAYE

* * * * *

This is a work of fiction. All detailed physical locations are fictional, as are the events described, and exist only in the mind of the author. Any resemblance of characters contained herein to any specific person, persons, or beings, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Rogue Magic

Originally Copyrighted in 2004 by G. F. Kaye

Rewrite Copyright 2022 by G. F. Kaye

All Rights Reserved

No part of this e-book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means; mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.

In plain English, this e-book is licensed for the original buyer’s personal enjoyment only, and may not be legally re-sold or given away. If you feel the need to share this book, please purchase additional copies for each recipient. If you’re reading this book, and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased solely for your use, then please go to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Published by G. F. Kaye at Smashwords. Also by G. F. Kaye @ Smashwords:

Stories of the Marlowe, Inc., Crew:

Learning Curves

The T-bone Affair

Murder at Tiffany’s

Liberty Shrugged

Trajectory

Also:

Carats

Ikon

A Witch’s Tail

A Little Revolution

In The Cusp Series:

To Ride in Shadow

Rogue Magic

Prologue: Along Came a Spider

Eddie The Spider Bruckner, wheezing like an old steam engine, finally reached the roof over the R&D lab, stopping in the shadow of a ventilation intake to catch his breath. I’m getting too old for this shit, he muttered to himself - not for the first time - and not just tonight. It hadn’t been so bad when he’d had his long-time partner, Bill Jameson, to at least help carry part of the equipment, but he’d disappeared without a trace about six months ago, on a solo job. It hadn’t been the first time he’d taken off, though. Eddie’d figured he’d show back up pretty quick, but, when he hadn’t, and some time passed without any word, the Spider’d checked around the usual places. He’d even called a couple cops he knew to see if they’d heard anything. Nothing had surfaced, and, by now, he was beginning to suspect that neither would Bill. Just two old second story men too damn hard-headed or just plain stupid to know when to quit, he mumbled to himself. At least this job would pay enough to allow him to retire in style. He didn’t like the idea of retiring from ‘the game’ - as they called it - but sooner or later he’d end up dead or in jail, and it was a toss-up, in his own mind, which was worse. No, he didn’t want to retire, but, there was no sense pushing the odds farther than he had already in what was really a young man’s game.

Straightening, he put his hands in the small of his back, leaning back to try and get some of the kinks out as he considered tonight’s performance so far, shaking his head slowly while doing so. It had taken him a full twenty-five minutes to scale a lousy three story building. It was a long time for someone to wander by with a flashlight, or just a good enough eye, and spot him, and that was no good at all. Twenty years ago it would have taken him less than five minutes. Shaking his head again, he muttered several self-disparaging remarks. It’d taken him damned near half an hour to get hi ass up here! Yep! It was time to quit!

He sighed. Yup, it was way past time to get out - right after this job. This was the last time.

Still in the shadow, he stretched a few times to loosen his arms and legs. As soon as he caught his breath, he’d drop down on a line through the skylight, get what he was after, and get the hell out of here. In one piece, I hope, he muttered. Just as he was turning to go to the skylight, however, a quick movement beyond the fence caught his eye, and it sure as hell wasn’t any night watchman. Frowning, muttering, Now what? he made sure he was hidden in the shadows and waited, just in case. He’d almost convinced himself it’d been a figment of his imagination, after all, when, quick as a flash, a slight figure literally launched itself from a clump of ornamental bushes about twenty yards from the fenced in parking lot. Coming at the fence at a dead run, it vaulted neatly over the top, collapsing the pole it’d used for it’s vault while still at the top of it’s arc before tucking in and rolling under an ornamental bush on landing. Stunned, Eddie blinked, staring. He’d lost sight of the figure in the shrubberies. After a minute, shaking his head slightly, he leaned over the edge of the roof to get a better look only to find the figure already halfway up the wall, shinnying between two of the ornamental flutes of the facade as the Spider had done, but at a much greater rate of speed. He watched in amazement before, recollecting where he was, he managed to duck back into the shadows as the figure flipped neatly onto the roof a dozen feet away, clearing the sensor strips at the top of the wall without an apparent effort, freezing in place except for it’s head while looking around. He could tell from the general shape that the figure was female, slightly built, maybe, he guesstimated, about five feet in height, and, he grinned, with a bright blonde ponytail strung over one shoulder.

Equality comes to all workplaces sooner or later, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

Alerted by the sound, the girl spotted him. Straightening, she nonchalantly moved into the shadow beside him, taking off her ski mask in the process and revealing a cute pixyish face just before she stepped out of the slight glow of parking lot lights that reached up the roof. What the hell, Eddie wondered, still half grinning at the sight before him, but not all that distracted. After all his years in ‘the business’, he’d come prepared for surprises. Just as he was reaching for his collapsible baton, however, the pixie face grinned at him and a girlish voice giggled, Jeez, Eddie, I thought you were never going to get your tired old ass up here! He jumped, not only at the voice, but the familiarity with which it addressed him from a face and figure he most definitely did not recognize.

Okay, he decided, his grin vanishing, this shit stops now! Who in hell are you and how the hell do you know me? he asked gruffly.

I’ll tell you in a minute. Answer me a question first. Aren’t you getting tired of taking all night to scale a wall that used to take you five minutes? the impish mouth asked, still with that easy grin.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out with a sound of disgust. Goddamned smartass kids! So I’m getting a little old. So what? he snarled.

Eddie might have been ready for just about anything, but not the way she reached out, gently touching his cheek with her fingertips and what looked to be a genuinely caring look in her eye. I can fix it for you, she said in a quiet voice.

Not knowing what to make of it, he frowned and she removed her hand quickly. By now, he didn’t figure she was there to start anything, though, and relaxed visibly. Yeah, right. What? Did you happen to find the Fountain of Youth or something? he snorted wryly, leaning back against the ductwork.

Or something, she giggled. I can do it, Eddie! I’ve been waiting for you so I can! she continued, this time with a serious expression on her cute as hell little face, Eddie couldn’t help but notice. Studying it and searching his memory, however, he still came up with nothing. Oh, hell, he decided finally. She was cute, but she just wasn’t that cute! Straightening, he took a somewhat more belligerent stance. Mentally replaying her last comment, thinking this shit was getting way too weird, he shook his head. He probably couldn’t keep up with her physically, but maybe he could intimidate her a little, he figured.

Waiting for me, eh? he muttered. Okay, girly. You’re no goddamned cop - private or otherwise, and I never seen you before. I repeat, who in hell are you? Maybe I should just toss you over the edge, eh?

Didn’t faze her a bit. Putting her hands on slim hips, she shook her head. You won’t, she snorted. I know you better than that. I’m an old friend, she grinned with a low chuckle. What’s the matter, Eddie? Don’t you recognize me?

The Spider studied her eyes a moment, before openly looking her slim, but shapely enough, body up and down, grunting, I never had a friend looked like you.

That’s because I’ve already taken the treatment! she chortled, raising her arms and pirouetting lightly.

Eddie began suddenly feeling like he’d climbed a wall into a nut ward. Finally, figuring she wasn’t just going to go away, after all, the Spider looked her up and down again, trying to figure her angle. Shaking his head, All right. I’ll play your little game, girly, he grunted. Suppose I agree? What’s the catch?

You work for my boss for a year and a day, then go do whatever you want or stick around, just for fun. Your choice, she replied quickly - and quite seriously.

A year and a day? It sounded like something out of one of the old fairy tales he used to read to his nephews and nieces; fame and fortune for your soul. Shaking his head slowly, he sighed to himself. Yup! Nut ward! And for this you can fix my tired old ass so I can climb a wall again, and not take all day doing it? he snorted aloud, more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Yep! she chirped cheerily, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Shaking his head at the total inanity of the whole thing; the whole goddamned past couple of days, so far. First, this guy offers him damn near ten times the going rate to bust into this place and grab some computer files, and now this? Seeing he wasn’t going to get any peace until she’d made her point, though, Show me, he said, assuming a skeptical posture, arms folded, eyes narrowed.

She waggled a slim finger at him. Uh-uh! Not that way, Eddie. You have to agree first.

Yeah, right! I agree and you make me young and spry again! Right! So. What’s to make me stick around after you wave your magic wand? he wondered aloud, grinning and shaking his head. And here he thought this was just going to be a routine job.

Funny you should mention magic wands, Eddie, she replied in a tone that made him pay attention, "but, once you agree, you’ll just have to fulfill your end. You won’t really have any choice, but you have to agree willingly or it won’t work."

Definitely nut ward. He shook his head again, but it was starting to sound . . .

Okay, I’ll bite, he suddenly heard his mouth saying with some surprise. I’ll agree. Now what?

At his words, the girl nodded once. Wearing a solemn expression, she took what looked to be a funny colored marble in a plastic bag out of a pocket of her blackout suit, which was actually gray in some kind of a camouflage pattern, he noticed. Shaking it out, she handed it to him. Holding it up, he frowned at it. Somehow, it was like his eyes just couldn’t quite focus on the thing. What the hell?

Sit down right here and put this in your mouth. You don’t even have to swallow it. Oh, and take your dentures out first, she instructed nonchalantly as he held it out in the light, continuing to study the thing.

What? he blurted as what she’d said sunk in. Sit? Right here? Take my plate out? Why in the hell would I do that? What the hell are you talking about? he said somewhat exasperatedly. This was getting even weirder, as if that was even possible. He was beginning to run out of patience, but couldn’t quite figure out how to get rid of little Miss Psycho and get back to work, short of tossing her over the edge after all, but she’d been right about that. He’d never hurt anyone in his entire life. He’d walked away from lucrative jobs on occasion to keep from hurting someone, and just couldn’t do that, but, she was speaking again.

You need to sit ‘cause it might make you a little dizzy for a minute or so, and you don’t want your plate in the way when your teeth grow back, she declared simply.

He blinked. Whoa! This was more than just a little nuts. Hunh!? he grunted, followed by, Suddenly, I don’t know about this.

At that, though, she simply smiled encouragingly. Taking his hand. It won’t hurt you, Eddie, just the opposite. I took one of these about six months ago, and I’ve never looked back. You’ll have all your youthful energy back and then some. You’ll feel wonderful. You’ll even be able to keep up with me! she grinned.

Eddie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He’d always considered himself a fair judge of people. Looking her dead in the eyes - very pretty blue ones, he noticed - he wondered what the punch line was, but all the signals he was getting told him she was not only sincere, but dead serious. Taking the pill, holding it into the light a moment, shaking his head slightly at the way it shimmered, seeming to shift in the light, he nodded. Sitting, spitting out his plate, shrugging, he put the thing in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but nothing happened right away. The thing seemed to disappear almost immediately, with no taste at all. Something occurred to him, however, but, while looking up at the girl, his vision blurred slightly. How the hell did you know I have a plate? he blurted, shaking his head to clear his vision, then, Holy-y-y shi-i-i-it!!! he yelped, his voice shifting up a couple of octaves as he suddenly felt like his entire body was being rolled between a pair of giant hands. Just as quickly as it’d begun, it stopped, and he noticed he felt very different. Well, actually, the first thing he noticed was that, for the first time in his recent memory, nothing hurt. Springing up, the Spider reveled in a feeling of lightness and well being as well as what seemed like a sudden influx of pure, youthful energy. Eddie looked at the girl in open astonishment. Grinning, handing over a dark bundle she’d slipped off her back, she simply said, Here. You’ll need this. Now let’s finish this job and get the heck out of here!

Well, hell! She’d definitely delivered, hadn’t she? Why not? Ready to do whatever she said, after making use of the contents of the bundle, they set up their equipment over the skylight. She held the line, keeping an eye out while Eddie slipped down, accessed the systems, grabbed the goods, and literally sprang back up the line without even breathing hard. Then it was across the roof, down the building, and over the wall. The only thing left behind was the sound of giggling after a pair of pale blonde ponytails disappeared into the shadows.

# # #

Chapter One: Puzzling Pieces

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

Patty Sullivan, operations manager, and, incidentally, head interrogator of Marlowe Confidential Investigations, Inc., paced, tall heels striking a carefully measured cadence, back and forth, back and forth, across the hard tiles of the tiny room. She’d been doing so for quite some time at this point, actually, and also quite deliberately. It was just one of several things coldly calculated to push the beneficiary of her attentions over the edge. From the way his eyes were narrowing, the pulse in his neck getting more pronounced, and, particularly, the way he winced every time her ‘special’ steel shafted spikes made impact with the floor, it was working exactly as planned. Add in the cool, non-emotional, almost mechanical way she asked the same questions, over and over, from a notebook page, deliberately checking each question off each and every time the goon - excuse me - alleged goon answered it, making the same noncommittal sniff each and every time she did, and you got the point. The questioning had been going on for about two hours. About an hour ago she’d started her pacing in addition to the rest. It didn’t bother Patty, of course; not in the least bit. The woman had the patience of the Rock of Gibraltar when interrogating someone, and her legs were in terrific shape. Just ask any of the guys in her own office, or around this particular precinct. No. No matter how long it took, she’d calmly keep asking the exact same questions in the exact same way from her notebook, with the exact same reaction to the answers, her heels setting the pace. Sooner or later he’d crack. Today, tomorrow, whenever. It didn’t matter to Patty. She knew it’d come.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack! As monotonous as a metronome. Keeping up the beat, she cleared her throat. Okay, Mr. Soli, one more time from the top, she deadpanned, never missing a beat with her heels.

That did it. Slapping the table in irritation, he said, Jesus Christ, lady! Enough with the twenty questions! What the hell makes you think I was there, anyway?

Leaning forward, quick as a striking cobra, she held her hands up, palms out, waggling her elegantly manicured fingertips at him. You left your little calling cards, bozo! she snapped.

But I wore . . ., he began. Screeching just as quickly to a stop, clamming up with a muttered expletive, leaning back in the chair, he folded his arms across his chest. Patty nodded. That was it. Her job was done. She straightened up, coolly folding her notebook closed, and just stood there for a long moment, arms folded under her bust, looking at him in the same deadpan way she’d been looking at him for two hours. She didn’t have to smile or gloat, and she hadn’t made a mark in the notebook this time. She had him and they both knew it. Nope. Not saying another word, not so much as raising an eyebrow, she calmly turned. Walking to the door in that same measured beat, she signaled for the officer on the other side, exiting the interrogation room just as a couple of detectives came walking out of the observation room next door.

All yours, Sergeant, she called cheerfully to the vaguely oriental looking one, only after the soundproof door had closed behind her, before stopping with a huge smile on her face, hands on hips in a slightly suggestive pose, in front of a tall, slender officer with a boyish face, dark hair, and pale gray eyes. Daniel Britten, as I live and breathe heavily! she sighed, teasingly, with a huge grin. Good mornin’ good lookin’. How’s my very favorite Lieutenant, this morning.

The Lieutenant and Patty had known each other quite literally for years. They’d originally come from the same neighborhood, matter of fact. He simply chuckled, Still married, Patty! How are you today?

She only laughed, wiggling her hips seductively. Married schmarried! You know, it’s a good thing for you that you’re married to a very good friend of mine, or you’d be in real trouble, bubba!

He shook his head, laughing at her bawdy antics. It was a game that’d been going on between the two of them since Patty’d come back from - but that’s another story. It was all in fun. If nothing else, it gave the other detectives something to wonder about over coffee. Carolyn was asking when you might bring your sidekicks over for dinner, actually, he winked, playfully. I don’t think she’s plotting any more matchmaking, though; not this time.

Oh, brother! Patty snorted. Am I glad to hear that! Especially after that last goon tried to put the make on the boss when she was in a somewhat, um, less than receptive mood, shall we say?

You mean our good friend Jerry Marlowe who never gets just a little bit cranky? he grinned back as they both chuckled at a shared remembrance of the guys arm in a sling for a couple weeks.

Uh-huh! That’s the one! You know, you could’ve at least warned the silly mook she has more black belts than he has brown shoes! Patty laughed.

Crap! he snorted. It was only a dislocated shoulder. He had it coming and we all know it! The only one he’d managed to convince of his boyish innocence was Carolyn, he chortled. No, I don’t think she’ll be setting up any more surprise dinner dates anytime soon.

The boss will certainly be glad to hear that! Patty giggled.

Raising an eyebrow, he continued with a chuckle, Where is the dragon lady, anyway? Haven’t seen her around in a couple months now.

Suddenly looking around with a horrified expression, Patty made a quick shushing motion. "Holy shit, Dan! I’m warning you! If she ever hears you call her that name in particular you may just wind up in intensive care - if you’re lucky! I know, for a fact, that little sobriquet sends her right over the edge."

Yeah? So does that guy on Second Avenue, Dan replied, dryly. Almost didn’t talk the judge out of that one, you know. I’d like to hear the story behind it.

Patty reached up, patting his cheek with a smile. No, you wouldn’t. Not really. Trust me on this.

Nodding, Dan opened his mouth to say something else just as the Sergeant, who’d gone into the interrogation room, opened the door. Leaning out, he stood waiting, expectantly. Well, looks like you guys nailed another one for us, the Lieutenant said, instead. I don’t know how in heck you keep getting into places and into their business like you do, and, you’re probably right, I probably don’t want to, either, but I must admit you do get results.

Hey! Anything for the old two-two! she grinned, taking an extra deep breath, playing the game with him once more. Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do for you in particular, tall, dark, and gruesome?

He looked at his friend, smiling, and shaking his head. She was, after all, apparently, at least, a quite attractive woman. He’d known her much longer than that, however. What would you do if I ever took you up on that, Patty? he chuckled.

Shrugging and grinning, she butted him with her hip, playfully, as she walked by. Why, go compare notes with Carolyn, of course, you big dummy! she threw over her shoulder as she clicked indolently down the hall, giving her hips an extra sway, knowing he was watching.

Laughing, still shaking his head, he headed for the doorway. You know, I really believe you would, too! See ya around, Patty.

Okay, Dan! she chirped, heading the other way at a brisker pace, now. Keep your head down!

You, too, doll, he grinned, pulling the door closed, but she got just a little way before it opened again behind her. At the sound, she turned, facing him as he hung out the doorway and added, grinning, You know, we do have a strange little problem - actually a couple of them - down in lockup that may just pique your interest. Why don’t you go ask Murray about his new girlfriends?

Girlfriends, hmmm? Patty frowned, wondering at the mischief in his eyes. Rolling her eyes, taking a deep breath, she let it out with a sigh before raising an eyebrow and placing a hand on a hip. He’d planned on dropping this on her all along and had been simply waiting for the right moment. They knew each other very well, indeed, but again, that’s another story. Okay, Dan, I’ll check into it for you, she tossed back at him, adding with a chuckle as he ducked back into the room, but are you sure they’re Murray’s girlfriends?

Sticking his head back out, he made a face at her. So solly, I don’t speak the language, he grinned and closed the door, leaving Patty in the hall with both eyebrows up this time. After a moment, she turned thoughtfully, walking to the elevator. Turning towards the interrogation room door, frowning before facing forward, she punched the call button. Don’t speak the language? she muttered as the door slid open. Jesus Christ, Danny! she muttered as she stepped into the car. The question was soon to be answered, however. A few minutes later, she was standing on the other side of a standard interrogation room two-way mirror staring at a pair of young, very pretty, suggestively, but obviously not cheaply, dressed, all-American looking girls. One was a blue-eyed very pale haired blonde, the other a blue eyed copper penny redhead. They were, however, conversing rapidly, and quite animatedly, with each other in fluent Japanese, she’d been told. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her eyes again. Don’t speak the language, indeed! Jesus Christ, Danny! she muttered once more under her breath. Now what?! After a few minutes, Have you been taping this? she asked Detective Murray somewhat incredulously, waving a hand at the window.

Uh-huh, he drawled, a pretty obvious southern burr in his voice.

Has Tanaka been here? she continued, speaking of the vaguely oriental looking Sergeant she’d left upstairs with the Lieutenant.

Murray grinned, shrugging, Yup! But those two’re chatterin’ so fast he can barely make out anythin’ ate all. Besides, he’s third generation U S of A. The language has apparently changed a bit from what his grandmama-san taught ‘im.

Patty nodded, tapping her chin with a finger. Velly intellesting, she wisecracked to Murray’s chuckle. How long can you keep them here?

He looked at his watch. Oh, ‘bout ‘nother sixty-three hours if’n we don’t send ‘em up to the judge.

Hm-mm. What’s the beef? she said, turning to look at the detective.

Prostitution, Murray shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow. Prostitution? They certainly don’t look or act like the usual hookers do they, Murray? Patty wondered, turning to the window. A high rent operation, you think? Where’d you guys bag ‘em?

Down on the strip, but that ain’t the funny part, Murray responded, turning to face the investigator. We did the usual background stuff on ‘em. Know what? They ain’t in the database, Patty. They ain’t got no record nowhere, nohow. The fed’s computer don’t come up with prints. They don’t have no ID photo on file. No DNA records. We cain’t even find a birth certificate! It’s like, ‘cept for the fact that we’re standin’ here lookin’ right at ‘em, they ain’t real! Oh, and they won’t give us no names ‘t’all. Matter of fact, they ain’t spoke a single word o’ English since we drug ‘em in!

Patty tilted her head to the side, both eyebrows going up at the detective’s comments. Curiouser and curiouser, as the famous quote went. She frowned, considering the girls in the tank. Can I borrow the tapes? she asked the detective.

Grinning, Murray punched out a couple tapes. Replacing them with fresh ones, he handed one of the first two to Patty. Taking a couple more out of a drawer, he handed them to her, too. Dan has me makin’ a continuous copy fer ya’ll as we go! She grinned knowingly, shaking soft brown curls. She knew it! The cagey smartass had been setting her up all along, after all!

Thanks, Murray, she chuckled. I’ll take these and go brush up on my Japanese. It’ll give me something to do while my hair’s drying. Oh, by the way, if you can’t get a name out of them, have Hard-Time slap them with thirty days for contempt. That may just keep them around until we come up with something on them, anyway.

Murray grunted in amusement while opening the hall door. That’s a thought, there, Patty, but we c’n hold ‘em for ninety on the prostitution beef. Implied guilt if they don’t give us no ID. The Lieutenant wants to keep ‘em here in the precinct, though, as accessories t’ some kind o’ ongoin’ investigation. Wouldn’t say what.

Aw, you just have to ask him the right way, Patty grinned at him with a bawdy wink.

Murray snorted, shaking his head. I’m built all wrong for your kind of askin’, hon, he laughed.

Patty eyed him up and down. Oh, I don’t know, Murray. A Merry Widow and the right wig and make-up make a big difference, big guy, she chuckled.

Snorting again at the idea, he patted his rotund figure. Take a heap mor’n that, gal. Been sittin’ on my be-hind too doggoned long doin’ paperwork.

She grinned, patting his belly affectionately, and laughed, Too doggoned much of Helga’s sauerbraten, if you ask me. How is she these days anyway?

Oh, purty good. The kids ‘r’ okay. Jimbo’s gettin’ ready t’ start sophomore year this year. I hear the coach is gonna bump him up t’ varsity, Murray said proudly.

Good for him, Patty grinned. Told you that boy’ll get a scholarship! Give everybody a howdy for me.

Murray nodded with a grin, Say hi to the rest of the li’l ol’ gals for me, too.

Patty winked at him, taking the tapes, and left the observation room, thinking of the irony of his comment as she headed down the hall. As it happened, he’d hit that nail much squarer on the head than he’d ever know. Chuckling, she looked at her watch as the elevator was taking her to the main floor. Speaking of l’il ol’ gals, tomorrow was the day to go and collect them. Grinning at the thought of exactly where Jerry, Candy, and Elise had been for the past several weeks, No, Murray, you just wouldn’t understand at all! she giggled to herself. Waving to the crew on her way out, she signaled a cab on her way to the curb. Taking the tapes to the loft, she just tossed them on a table in their command center before walking across the hall and down a few doors to her place. One of the realities of the PI business. At roughly noon, it’d already been a long day, following a longer night. The tapes’d keep until tomorrow, she decided. Stripping down quickly, rolling into her bed, she had a funny kind of gut feeling she didn’t just want to hand them over to the regular staff for translation.

* * *

The Japanese speaking girls in elegant dinner gowns and prison slippers were hustled to a cell, after Patty left, by a pair of female officers and a matron. They’d stayed silent during the transfer, but began to converse with each other again as soon as the officers were out of sight, although more sedately than they had been. I don’t believe this shit! the blonde said in Japanese with a long-drawn-out sigh, plunking down on a lower bunk, legs spread in a most unladylike manner. Resting her elbows on her knees, she dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head.

The redhead, who’d quietly stood facing the cell door as the officers left, turned. Looking down at the blonde in an imperious manner, she softly said, "You will continue to conduct yourself with honor, despite the circumstances, Sugato-san."

At that stern admonition, the blonde straightened. Bringing her legs together, folding her hands in her lap, she studied them earnestly as she spoke. "I am most sorry, Hatayama-san. Please forgive me for my transgression, but you must understand my feelings about this."

"Hai! Wakaremas!" sighed the redhead quietly. Still standing, her hands clasped behind her, she turned to stare through the bars once more.

* * *

Ramon` was pissed. Somebody in the ‘hood had ripped off a bike, and he’d been rousted for it even though he’d been a mile away at the time. Hell, it was one thing to get rousted when he knew what the hell he was being rousted for, but this time he’d simply stepped off the bus and into the waiting arms of a couple detectives. It was all bullshit! Just ‘cause he had a rap sheet, every goddamned time something happened anywhere in the ‘hood, some goddamned cop just had to come and talk to him about it. The hell of it was, since he’d been getting all the attention they’d been giving him lately, he hadn’t so much as jaywalked, and none of the guys that were really doing the jobs would come anywhere near him. In a sudden rage, he picked up a piece of a brick and threw it into the air as hard as he could, not even particularly looking where he’d thrown it. Unbeknownst to him, it nailed a security camera, knocking it around on its gimbal, and, in the process, stripping the teeth off a twenty-five cent plastic gear in a motor housing. Ramon`, still muttering to himself, continued down the street, hands in pockets, not even looking around at the sound of the impact. After a while, a security guard came out, looking up to see the camera pointing across the street, useless. It was way too late to get someone out there to fix it today, so the guard went inside. Making an entry in his log, he simply turned off the monitor the camera was feeding.

* * *

Well, where the hell are they? Rachel Tuzinkowski exploded at Augustino ‘Boom-Boom’ Grazianni in her private office in her uptown mansion.

Christ, Rachel, I don’t know. They made all the regular stops up to old lady Ho’s place, then just disappeared off the face of the goddamned earth! Boom-Boom snarled.

With a disgusted snort, Rachel threw the notebook she’d been looking at when her lieutenant had come in with the news down hard enough on a table to make him wince. I just don’t like it when the same two guys that’ve been handling the route for - what - twenty-four years now? - just poof into thin goddamned air! Rachel snarled back at him, turning to stare out her window as he looked on with a sigh, before grunting something unintelligible under her breath and beginning to pace behind her desk. It wasn’t the protection money. He knew that. Rachel, or, ‘the Tinkers wife’, as she was called on the streets, though the Tinker, himself, was long gone, genuinely cared for her people, and it very much distressed her that she didn’t have any idea what had happened to a couple of the old soldiers in her little ‘familia’. After a few moments, she stopped stomping back and forth. Putting her fingertips to the sides of her head, palms facing forward, closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths like her friend Patty’d showed her how to do. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Damn! she sighed after calming down enough to think more clearly. Get every eyeball you can down to the East Side. Get everybody ever wanted to get on my good side looking for those guys. Pronto!

Yes, ma’am, came Boom-Boom’s voice from the hall as he strode down to his own office.

* * *

Mercedes Omira didn’t look like a narc. She didn’t even look much like a police officer. She looked more like she should be tending an old-fashioned candy store counter somewhere rather than following a trail of sellers and users back to a new source that’d appeared in the area within the past year or so. She was not very tall - not quite five feet in her stocking feet - and just a tad on the plump side, with the kind of cheerful, kindly face that usually made people want to tell her their life’s story, but, at forty-eight, Mercedes Omira had the highest arrest record in the entire narcotics division, and, what was even more impressive, the highest conviction ratio. Also unique to her in the department, she’d never had one of her cases tossed out on a technicality. Matter of fact, most of her busts not only held up, they were usually for multiple counts. She was patient. She was thorough. Simply put, word on the streets was, if Mamacita Omira put you away, you not only had earned it, you stayed put away. She’d never had a case as hard to get a handle on as this one, though.

Not only had whoever this new supplier was just shown up out of the blue without coming up through one of the known families or cartels, but, for the only time in her illustrious career, no one - not a single dealer or unhappy user - would talk about the guy. Not to her. Not to anybody. She’d also had several street people flat tell her that a good way to stay breathing was just to stay the hell out of the man’s business, since the word was that people who crossed the man just had a funny way of dropping off the face of the earth. What had the street people so especially spooked was that not a single body had ever turned up - anywhere! Not in a shallow grave, not in the river, not as an unaccounted for lump in the potters field! Not anywhere!

It was that simple improbability that even had Mercedes concerned. Simple fact: you make enough bodies, one of them has got to show up somewhere sooner or later. From what she’d heard on the streets, though, the man had made at least twenty or so small time dealers, hustlers, or just troublemakers disappear since he opened up shop, and not a single one had shown up anywhere, in any condition. In addition, while pursuing her usual methods of gaining info, she’d not been able to come up with a single dissatisfied customer. The man’s shit was totally and completely grade A - value received for value given - and nobody, but nobody, wanted to screw up their access to that kind of prime goods. Then there was one of the most puzzling facts of all. Frowning, she shook her head slightly, recalling that the fed’s drug lab had told her the couple examples she’d managed to actually get hold of didn’t match any of the known sources they had chemical files on.

So, without the usual assortment of people around with big mouths and an ax to grind, or at least a connection to a known processor or grower, it’d taken her this long, using plain old surveillance techniques, just to get a general idea of where the man was operating from. This sultry, early summer evening found her sitting on a step across from a strip club on the lower east side, wearing her favorite bag lady outfit, holding what appeared to the casual observer to be a half-drunk bottle of really cheap rotgut. She’d been sitting there for hours, generally being as unobtrusive as possible, except for occasionally raising hell with anyone getting too close to her, or, more importantly, considering her disguise, her wine bottle. After a while, though, the old Vietnamese lady that owned the building had looked out. Spotting her on the stoop, she’d hollered down at her to get lost. Mumbling and bitching, completely in character, of course, she slowly, and apparently painfully, got up and shambled on down the street. It didn’t matter. Now that she was sure she knew where the man was, she could put a team on it. Now it was simply a matter of time and patience. The patience part was what she was especially good at. She hand-picked her teams looking for the same quality, and she was already going over candidates in her mind, staying in character and slowly shuffling along.

She made it to the corner of the building at the alley.

Suddenly a hand came out and popped something under her nose. Faster than anyone would ever have given her credit for being able to move, she started to turn towards the person attached to the hand. Stopping just as quickly, listening a moment, she simply walked across the street to what was apparently a side entrance to the strip club. The door opened as she put a foot on the stoop, and, never once looking back, or around, or at anything in particular, she walked in, and the door closed.

* * *

Edie the Spider, dressed in baggy jeans and a baggier loose top that completely hid her slim figure, as well as a great number of assorted pieces of hardware, nonchalantly stared through a tiny set of binoculars at the building just down the way and across the street. If anybody asked, she was bird watching, and screw what they think. Anyway, she looked to be about fourteen, and people were used to seeing fourteen-year-olds doing weird stuff. She’d quietly, patiently done the same thing on the other sides of the typically nondescript glass and plastic building. Of course, she had plenty of intelligence on it, having sifted through a great many photos that’d been unobtrusively taken over the past several days at various times of the day and night, as well as having committed the floor and utility plans to memory from city permits and inspections department’s records, but she liked to see for herself what was what. It was generally safer that way in her line of work.

Looking up at the sky, she nodded to herself. Pretty soon it’d be that murky time of evening when the shadows started to lengthen, before the streetlights came on. Looking around quickly, she quietly slipped into a good spot to change into her working clothes. Soon, she exited her temporary hideaway in a nondescript, mottled gray bodysuit that fit her like her own skin and pretty much faded from sight in any kind of shadowy light. Only amateurs wore black. Checking all the equally dull finished hardware she’d hung from her belt or strapped to her legs, she looked across the street toward a small hole in the cement sidewalk she’d spotted earlier. Unslinging a collapsible vaulting pole from her belt, she made a quick dash across the street, extending the pole and sliding it through her hands as she ran to just the right grip. Placing the end in the hole, she vaulted neatly up onto the roof of a one story addition on the north end of the building.

Now that she was off the street level, she could relax a moment in the shadow of a two story wall that extended up from there, reviewing her plan again in light of what she was now seeing at close range. Taking a light line from her other hip, she fitted a folding, padded grappling hook to the end of it. Taking one step back from the wall before her, she expertly tossed the line up, just far enough so the hook arced over the top of the wall, keeping it deliberately low so it wouldn’t make a lot of racket when it landed on the roof. In a moment she was up the line, like the spider she was nicknamed for, pulling it up after herself so no one would see it hanging there and begin asking bothersome questions. Reattaching everything to her belt, looking around, she spotted the ventilator right where it was supposed to be. Kneeling beside it, using a box wrench, she removed the bolts holding a typical wind activated turbine fan in place. Quietly lifting it off, she just as quietly set it to the side. Appearances aside, she was apparently much stronger than she looked. The fan out of the way, removing several pieces of hardware from padded pouches and hooks that were attached to her belt, she quickly constructed a lightweight tripod, hanging a pulley from its center and placing the entire thing over the end of the vent pipe. Finally, taking a line, passing one end through the pulley, she attached a foot loop to it before looking down the pipe, grinning.

The pipe was only fourteen inches in diameter. It was the largest opening in the building that wasn’t wired into the alarm system. By pure chance, it directly vented the research lab on the second floor. To her, it was like a grand entry and a golden invitation, all rolled into one. Removing her belt after placing a few more items in a soft, padded bag, she hung the bag from a ring on her bodysuit so it hung down between her knees. Donning a pair of gloves, she eased one foot into the loop, took a solid, two handed grip on the line after wrapping the free end around her leg, and stepped off the roof with the other foot, lowering herself very slowly into the pipe. Heaving a sigh of relief on noting her hips barely brushed the inside of the vent, pulling her shoulders in as far as possible, she continued descending a millimeter at a time until she was sure her shoulders would clear the pipe. Actually, she’d practiced on a similar pipe in her home gym, but it was always a relief to know someone hadn’t made an error in the drawings.

Loosening her grip, letting the line flow through the heavily padded gloves, she quickly dropped the rest of the distance, halting just as her toes touched the filter element and grille covering the lower end of the vent. Wedging herself in place with one knee, she extricated and dropped a light line with a small, but powerful magnet on it onto the steel frame that held the filter, gently pushing against first one side, then the other, of the frame. Exhaling with satisfaction when the combination grille and filter popped free from the magnets holding it in place on one side, she began to quietly open it on it’s hinges, restraining from simply swinging open and possibly making a racket by the light line. Finally, after listening a moment, she eased the grille all the way open and let go the line, dropping into the lab quickly and silently, automatically scanning the entire room, even before her feet touched the floor. Nodding, moving quickly and surely, she sat at one of several computer terminals. Rebooting it from a disc she’d brought with her, taking a package of writable DVD’s from the bag she’d brought down, she simply began backing up their server to their own recorder, grinning to herself while doing so. The research engineers had made sure their systems were completely separate from everything else in the building so no one could, either purposely or inadvertently, get into their files, but that just made it easier. She didn’t have to go looking for the r&d files, they were all here! She didn’t even have to decode anything or worry about passwords. All she had to do was copy the entire server. Whoever was buying the data could decrypt it and sort it out at their leisure in the comfort of their own facility.

Inserting a fresh DVD, leaning back, she looked around, grinning. It was funny, really. The lab didn’t even have any windows or security cameras, so no one could inadvertently record anything from a video monitor, so she didn’t even have to worry about being seen or videotaped while working. Paranoia! You had to love it!