"Albert?"
    "Oui?" The small illusionist was awake and apparently trying to stretch some of the stiffness out of his neck.
    "People were wondering if you would like to visit the photo places around Lanigan's house and see if she brought her film in to any of them, and whether or not you could manage to talk them into giving you any negatives they still have on file?"
    "No," was the crisp reply.
    "Okay."
    Pause.
    "I would not like to. If you provide me with sufficient reason, I shall."
    "According to her diary, she had a photograph somewhere of the man who bribed her."
    "Hm. Do we have a date?"
    "Yes. Here's her diary." He paged up the screen while Albert muttered to himself.
    "I will look into it. It gives me an excuse to get out of here," was the final pronouncement. "I will return anon." He limped off.
    Scott made a mental note to remember to bring in some of the items his organic comrades seemed to require for future use. Like "food." The lack seemed to make them cranky.
    He rescued the scuba gear, found the island in the state that it had been left—i.e., a total ruin—and swung back by the old base for a quick check. The police guard had been tripled, perhaps on the presumption that one of the team might make an appearance, though they didn't appear well enough armed for the eventuality. They didn't notice the silver eyestalk which poked up through the water and surveyed the situation, then withdrew silently.
    Not without some apprehension, then, he called Winters en route to the cave.
    "Yeah?" she answered. "Winters here."
    "Good morning."
    "Hello, Scott. Where are you?" she sighed.
    "Um... currently, in a sewer."
    "Good. If you find my career down there, let me know."
    "I will," he assured her earnestly.
    "Thank you."
    "So, I have some bad news."
    "Bob, could you get me some coffee?" she said to someone else in the room. "All right, fire away."
    "There was a break-in at a pharmaceutical warehouse."
    "You're not going to tell me." The familiar weary dread colored her voice.
    "Estimates, he got enough ingredients to make three hundred doses."
    "Would you pour some bourbon in that, Bob? Thank you. Okay." She sighed. "Javelin's still out there. I can assume, by the way, that he's responsible for Dr. Lanigan's death?"
    "I'm assuming so."
    "Did you know about that?"
    He hesitated. "Yes."
    "Any leads?"
    "Well, he got probably all the money she was bribed with, which seems to be a significant amount. Do you have her computer?"
    "No. The whole building's sealed off, forensics is still going over the place. It's still in the house, we haven't brought it back here. Why?"
    "Somewhere on her hard drive there should be a short story about a man named Kevin O'Connell and a photo of him, this was the man who bribed her, the name he was using."
    "Okay, we can use that. I'll call and tell them to get on that right away. All right. You've seen the news this morning?"
    "I was listening to the radio."
    "Originally, we were just supposed to do stuff if you engaged in any variant activity. Certain groups are currently pressuring for you to all be brought in for extensive questioning concerning the details of last night. Tempers are starting to run really short. I think if you guys turn yourselves in something really nasty is going to happen."
    "Okay."
    "Stay out there. If you run into some cops, just leave, we'll sort everything out later, but if you're locked up you can't do anything to figure out what's going on, which is what they want. Mind you that we never had this conversation."
    "What conversation?"
    "Good call on the picture, we'll see what we can do with it, I'll be in touch."
    Click.
    Scott poured himself through the sewers back toward the cave-base and returned to his laborious attempt to trace the properties of certain Mafia dons.

| Top |