DARKLING
 
 By J. M Patterson
   
   
   
   Copyright 2004 by Author
   
   All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission wring from the publisher.
   
   
   Prolog
   
   The temperature had gotten a bit less miserable after the sun went down so Eddie was hanging with Clipper and Tommy on the corner parking lot of Max's Mini Mart when the maroon minivan pulled up to the curb. The passenger side window slid down and Gonzo leaned across from the steering wheel Eddie peeled himself off the wall and slouched over as smoothly as he could. "What's up Gonzo?"
   "Come on. Get in. We got work to do."
   "Work? Like what?" Eddie wasn't really old enough to worry about getting a real job.
   "Come on. We gonna go gonging? We gonna rock a good one." Gonzo was bobbing his head with music playing too low for Eddie to hear He wasn't totally into the kind of trouble Gonzo usually practiced, but the town was too dead to bear tonight. Maybe they could have some fun without running from the cops. He opened the door and go; in Gonzo punched up the volume and stepped away from the curb. "We gonna rock a hard one Shimmy" Gonzo shouted.
   Eddie had once asked Gonzo why he always called him that and the Gonzo had explained about some old song, even played it for him. Eddie didn't get it and it didn't sound much like music to him, but when Gonzo got some stupid idea in his head you got nowhere trying to change it. Eddie wasn't really sure what Gonzo's whole real name was, but he had been waiting outside his house for him when the Gonzo's mom had thrown one of those parental threats at him and called him Franklin. Eddie never called him that, his own mom called him Edward when she was pissed and Teddy when she wasn't. Who could figure parents?
   "So what are we gonna' do?" Eddie yelled over the CD player.
   "I told you, we gonna' go gonging. You know that one stairway in the fourth spaceship in GodHunters? Where you can pull that blue guy's arm off and beat him with it? We gonna gong 'em with one of their own." He motioned to the back with his thumb.
   Eddie looked back into the dark. He wasn't sure what he was looking for until they went under the next streetlight. He caught sight of a dark shape on the floor. Half a block later the next light revealed a piece of train track under the seats.
   "Shit, Gonzo. Where'd you get it?"
   "I found it at my uncle's house out in Aurora. Cool huh? We gonna bang one loud."
   "We can't park on the bridge." Eddie was thinking about leaving his options open on this one. "We have to carry this thing up by hand?"
   "Yeah. I got faith. We got all night anyway It's gonna make them rocks seem pretty weak."
   "Yeah. I guess it will." Eddie was staring to fidget m the seat, tapping his hands on his knees.
   They drove out and got on 57 going north. They flew through the ramps onto 80 going east and finally pulled off before the bridge at Park Avenue and the train tracks. It took almost an hour to drag the five foot section of track up the hill Apparently the state police had other things to do than patrol the highways at one a.m. on a Wednesday. They got it up and balanced on the safety rail as cars whipped by at seventy. Then all they had to do was wait for a train. They were looking for a freight with a lot of closed cars and tankers, the flatbed ones just didn't make the right kind of noise. It didn't take long for the right one to come along.
   "This is our express train from Hell!" shouted Gonzo. "Get ready!"
   Just as the last engine passed under them, they both heaved as hard as they could. The big steel track plunged out of sight below. They were rewarded with the loudest clanging, crashing noise either of them had ever heard outside of a set of headphones. Gonzo jumped up and down with both feet in total bliss.
   "Hot Damn! Hot Damn! Let's get over to the north side and see if we can see anything!"
   The two of them dashed recklessly through traffic, vaulted over the concrete center barrier, through the westbound traffic, and over to the north rail By the time they got there, the train was too far along to see the damage they had caused but they laughed like a couple of Hyenas, high fiving each other for most of a minute. Finally Eddie came down to reality.
   "Hey Gonzo. We oughtta get out of here before somebody calls the cops about the kids on the bridge."
   "Yeah! Let's drive up along the tracks and see if we can see anything."
   They ran down to the van and got back on the highway. They would never fully understand what they had done They would never know that the track they had dropped had gotten hung up under the train and in about a mile it would ram into a switch and throw tank cars off the tracks halfway into Harvey. They would never see the results of their prank because the colorless, odorless gas would kill them both within eighteen seconds after they drove into it. They would lay in-noticed in the wrecked van looking like bloated creatures from a horror movie as that same gas cloud drifted slowly north for miles.
   Thirty one years later...
   
   
   Chapter One
   
   At 12:52 am, the entire fourteenth floor of the Lake Hotel went dark Victor Santra was watching television when it happened. The craggy face of Henry Losson, night-time anchor for the Stock Channel, faded rapidly from the screen and from his mind. There was some light filtering in through the sheer drape, but Victor still managed to bark his shin on the furniture feeling his way to the bed to retrieve his pistol He waited a moment for the emergency lights to kick on. They didn't. There was no light coming under the door from the hallway. He could hear footsteps and some disorganized questions mixed with at least three people giving orders.
   Victor made a decision after two seconds of listening to the confusion outside His eyes were starting to adjust to the dim light as he grasped the knob to the adjoining room and turned it as quietly as he could. He eased the door open and automatically ran his hand up the wall until he found the light switch He pushed it up with a soft click and realized his mistake, cursing silently The curtains were shut tight in here, that had been part of the security He felt his way to the bed cautiously and stooped down with his left hand outstretched. He knew as soon as he felt across the bed that the woman sleeping there was dead.
   His hand came involuntarily away from the warm wetness that bathed the sheets.
   He stood trying to decide what his next move should be. He knew that if he wasn't careful the trigger happy bodyguards securing the floor would likely shoot him first and apologize later He heard the door click and swing open, the sounds in the hall becoming louder and clearer Victor moved carefully away from the bed expecting to be challenged (or worse) at any moment.
   There was a burst of automate gunfire in the hall, the muzzle flash right in front of the door To his relief it wasn't aimed into the room, but west, down the hall The answer was a heavy thud and a tremendous amount of return fire. Victor decided to wait it out right where he was
   The bodyguards in the hall were taking fire that was far more accurately aimed than their own. With every burst, another suited guardian went down, protective vests and all. The remaining guards continued to return fire. They aimed just above the muzzle flash, as they had been taught. One of them with better than average eyesight noticed in the brief light from the tiny explosions peppering the hall that there was movement a half meter to one side of the deadly muzzle The assassin saw him like it was daylight as he took aim They fired simultaneously. Only one of them fell. The other guards' fire was keeping the personnel at the east end of the hall out of the fight, and none of them figured out that the lone figure was walking sideways with the gun held out from the body.
   As if on cue, the last guard at the west end of the hall fell in the same instant the elevator doors slid open with a ding. There was no one aboard, but the anemic emergency lights in it worked. The guards that had taken cover in doorways at the far end of the hall began shouting and shooting as a single dark figure dashed into the car. The doors slid shut and the indicator showed that it was going down. Victor edged to the doorway and called out to the personnel in the hall, identifying himself and giving instructions not to shoot him. The remaining bodyguards seemed more interested in where the stairs they could use to follow the elevator down were located, something every one of them should have known before now Victor grabbed the sleeve of one as he passed.
   "Check the roof, you ass!" He flung the arm away as he called out. "Where the hell is Roberts?!"
   Within seconds the emergency lights came up revealing seven dead or dying figures in the hall. Victor stood for a moment reviewing the carnage, calculating how much this was going to cost. Soon the east elevator dinged and the doors slid open revealing the tense face of Security Specialist Roberts. He was snapping commands into a headset as he stepped from the two and a half meter cube and approached to make his report.
   Victor raised his pistol in both hands, "I thought you said you could control the situation here, and nobody even had a fucking flashlight! I thought you said she'd be safe here, you jackass!" Roberts looked puzzled and scared. Victor pulled the trigger "You're fired." He reached down and took the bloody radio from the remains of Specialist Roberts' head. He didn't have any training in this kind of operation, so he just slumped down the wall next to the dead man and listened. He continued wiping his left hand on Roberts' clothes until the police arrived.
   Later, after the building had been secured and searched. Robert's replacement would piece together the almost unbelievable route of escape. The assassin must have ridden the elevator just long enough to open the tampered access panel in the and jump to the service ladder in the shaft. From there it had been a short climb to the roof. A loose cover on one of the air shafts revealed a very thin but strong line that led all the way to the basement levels. There were no obstructions in the shaft, they must've been removed days before. Then came the really tricky part. The assassin had to have made the twisting, turning change from outflow to intake ducts through the plenum, cutting through the filter stack in the process It looked like only a circus performer could've done it, but there It was. The grate on the return vent had been loosened, giving full access to the utilities room and subsequently the underground garage. The police had entered the structure there first, to secure the exits, but they had seen only two surprised newlyweds looking for a little adventure. It was only twenty meters from the utility room across the parking garage to the sewer access, but no one thought to check that until days later. There was no evidence that anyone had used it lately, but process of elimination seemed to leave it as the only way out.
   
   At 1:30 in the morning, the 76th street Zippy Zap wasn't deserted, there were three wandering crazies and a pack of six teenage schoolers staying out late. All of the kids and one of the crazies looked up when the sleek, black, heavily modified Tottori 1700 Windstorm pulled up. The rider shouldered open the door, wearing a long coat and taking off her helmet with only her right hand. She had five centimeter long, spiked silver hair and face paint that looked like a broken windshield with a hole centered on her right eye. The crazy looked immediately into his foam cup. The kids looked at the rider until she pointedly returned their stares. They took a few covert glances as she got her food, nuked it, and sat down facing to one side.
   She ate looking out the window at the dirty grey of night, not needing to look at the kids to know what they were up to. She could hear them whispering six meters away and see them reflected in the window. "She could be attractive without all that crap on her face. What's she trying to prove anyway?" That from the artificial platinum blond.
   The boy in the green shirt answered. "Look, see how that coat is kinda stiff and how her pants have like, plates in the knees and shins? Anybody dressed like that in this part of town Is either from over the Wall, or trying hard to look like it Whichever, you don't want to get caught staring, ya' know? There's like, a percentage chance she's killed somebody before. Those people inside the Wall are all chemically psycho. Don't make trouble." The others whispered agreement while the blond girl giggled nervously.
   The cycle rider was halfway through her meal when the kids finally left. The crazies at her back were keeping quietly to themselves as she pulled the wad of blood-soaked Zippy Zap napkins from under her left arm. She fished a med kit out of an inside pocket and opened it with her right hand She tore the wrapper off a clear plastic nozzle and snapped it on the aerosol cylinder of Bleed-S Foam It fit right into the seam of her vest and the wound underneath Relief came with the hissing The bullet had slid a centimeter along the vest and into the seam at an angle It had torn up the flesh, bounced off her rib, exited four centimeters further back, and was now lodged between her back and the Kevlar vest. Not a bad wound as gunshots went. She'd had worse.
   After cleaning up the table and her hands, she finished her soy-chicken- chow-dog-meat-with-greasy-noodle surprise.
   She put her med kit away and threw the napkins in the trash recycler with the food wrappers. She paused at the door to put her gloves back on and the crazy that had looked up before held both hands up, the left one still holding a cup. "No waves. Shatter," he mumbled. She smiled just a little as she put her helmet on and pushed out into the parking lot. She put her left leg over the bike and reached up under the back of her helmet with her right hand and connected the fiber optic interface to the stainless ring on her head. The crazy put his empty foam cup over his mouth and mumbled quietly to himself as he watched her ride away.
   Twenty minutes later, she rolled up a disused street toward a dark warehouse, checking it both visually and on the HUD inside her helmet. When everything came back green she activated the scrambled radio link to the building's electronic brain. "You keep a-knocking, but you can't come in." she spoke quietly into the mike The system only took a second to verify her voice pattern before it slid open the first chain link gate. She rode into the trap and waited for the gate to close before she punched in the number code that opened the second gate. She gave the voice code again as she rode across the asphalt and into the widening doorway. The system noticed when she was clear enough to begin closing again and did so.
   She rode smoothly across the dark building and onto the freight elevator as if it were daylight. It recognized the electronic signature of the Tottori and began to rise toward the floor. When it stopped, she rode off the platform and shut off the engine. She had a reliable source for gasoline, but there was no need to waste it. She walked to the workbench along the wall and disarmed. The bench looked like wood, but it wasn't and it quietly accepted the SMG, both pistols, survival knife, and two tantos without leaving a trace. It wouldn't float them to the surface for anyone without her DNA She still hadn't turned on any lights, she almost never did. She didn't need them to see, in fact she wasn't even sure if they all worked anymore She wasn't sure about a lot of things lately, like why she was still doing this for a living. It was an ever escalating cycle. You did a big job with big risks for a big payday that you invested in better tech so you could get bigger jobs that paid even more It didn't look like there was any end to it except for the final death She didn't know anyone who'd made it out any other way Maybe, just maybe, it could be done though If a girl had the right connections and maybe a friend or two that could be trusted for more than five minutes, there might be a way to go over to the light side of the day. It would be tricky, but then any wrong step could get her killed in a heartbeat anyway.
   
   
   Chapter Two
   
   Sitting in the recliner in the corner of the lounge, he carefully extracted his nutritionally balanced, vitamin enriched lunch from his old vinyl brief case. The enhanced juice drink was warm, but it didn't taste much different, and he'd never had good luck leaving it in the refrigerator. Seemed like nothing was safe around here anymore. The students were one thing, but you'd think the teachers would have a shred of decency left. He was just taking the first bite of his apple when the door opened and Principal Huber stuck his sweaty, bald head in.
   "Hey Woody, is your free period at 2:10?"
   "Yeah."
   "Great! I remember at the last board meeting how you said you'd be happy to do whatever you could to help make the school a safer place."
   "Yeah." Woody gave a mental groan, waiting to see what half baked idea Huber had come up with this time.
   "Well, after the incident last week, the board decided to let go of a little money to look into it. There's a security consultant coming here this afternoon, and I was hoping you could show her around the place and answer whatever questions she has."
   Woody had zero interest in getting involved in another project that would likely never see fruition, had other plans for his only free period, and Huber knew school security wasn't his job On the other hand, saying no to Huber had a way of coming back to haunt you later.
   "Yeah, okay. In the office at 2:10"
   "Glad you could be involved in the process." Huber gave a hearty thumbs-up before he slipped back out into the hall
   Woody finished his lunch trying to remember why he put up with jerks like Huber. He decided for the thousandth time that it must be for the kids. He had decided an equal number of times that if he ever felt he wasn't reaching at least some of the students he would just quit this crappy job and run his dojo full time. There were a ways people who needed to learn how to protect themselves in the city Maybe business would really boom if he moved it out into the suburbs somewhere.
   At 2:05 he made his way through the crowded halls to the office with a heavy feeling in his chest. He'd spent the last two hours more as a policeman than as a teacher. And now instead of sneaking into the gym to practice a few katas he was down here on a fool's errand for that greasy fat pig. Huber. He pulled open the heavy door and stepped to the counter. "Hi Lois. I'm supposed to meet a consultant here?"
   The secretary's eyes darted a little to one side as she opened her mouth to speak. Woody turned his head to the right and realized there was a woman standing just off his shoulder. Her hand came up faster than a striking snake, and Woody flinched a little. He couldn't help it. She had the first two fingers of her right hand extended holding a business card the way magicians flip the Ace of Clubs out of nowhere. Woody kept his cool, he had enough expertise in martial arts to recognize a real threat. He took the card and scanned it quickly. It was plain white with the name "Bethany Marie Johansson" at the top, the words "Security Specialist" in the middle, and a contact number at the bottom He slipped the card into his pocket and extended his hand. "I'm Mist-'' she cut him off, in mid-word.
   "You're Hidoshi Woodson, age 29, you teach Social Studies, you're not in charge of school security." She shook his hand, your palm had no obvious calluses but the skin felt very tough. She wasn't the most attractive woman he'd ever met, but she wasn't bad He couldn't tell too much about her figure under the knee length brown coat she wore, but he liked the long brunette pony tail. He reserved judgment on the dark shirt, pants, and SWAT style shoes. Maybe she would look better smiling.
   "I know, but the small security force we have is always busy. We'll have to go to their stations to talk to them." He led the way out of the office. She followed, handling the door effortlessly with one hand.
   "How much do you want to upgrade?" she asked Woody noticed that she moved with as much grace and precision as any martial artist he'd ever met. Her blue eyes were always scanning the area rather than checking the floor or looking at him.
   "I don't think anybody's decided that yet. Maybe you can tell us where we should start, and the board can go as far as funding will allow."
   "Well, you can trash that useless old Sec-Tex alarm system and get something that will integrate all the security Start with pattern or print locks on the perimeter with a dedicated camera at each one. You've got three teachers that are ripping materials and services after hours' She handed him a data pad with the pictures and the school's full employee file for each of the three offenders. "Kids can pretty much get in and out anywhere they want, and those thirty year old metal detectors are useless, even if you could get people to go through them." He scrolled the pad past Tony Johnson, the math teacher, and found a series of images showing students climbing through windows, using the utility access, and opening doors that were supposed to be sealed unless there was a fire. "Your computer security is a joke. A five year old could get in here with his eyes closed. Luckily, your systems are so screwed up that none of them talk to each other, so a lot of the stuff you want to protect isn't online. But your students have done eight felonies in the last six months using your computers and access. It's on there too." He scrolled the pad ahead, trying to read and keep up at the same time. She went on. "At least three of your security guards couldn't engage in foot pursuit to save their own lives. Two of them can't even pass the eye exam anymore."
   "I had no idea things were this bad." Woody fumbled with the pad as he walked. There was hard copy to back up everything she said.
   "Clearly." They were reaching the end of the hall. Woody watched in stunned silence as she, in a series of short fluid movements, deprived the door guard of his pistol and shocked him with his own taser. She handed the weapons to Woody saying. "This is typical of the readiness of you whole security staff. Inadequate."
   "Was that really necessary?"
   Bethany lifted the guard with little visible effort, pushed his stool against the wall, and dumped him onto it. Amazingly, he stayed there. "He'll live." She let her arms hang just out a bit from her sides as she faced Woody. He took in the incredibly rich blue color of her eyes, noticing there seemed to be some small print around the edges of her irises. Probably the name of the contact manufacturer He was trying to decide if it meant anything that he was suddenly aware of his pulse. Her right hand slid quickly into her coat pocket, and he decided maybe it was fear. She pulled her hand out of her pocket more slowly and held it up with half a dozen unprinted student I.D cards on her palm. "Even your safe is out-dated and vulnerable.' Woody reached out palm down to take the cards and she moved. As his hand passed above hers, she moved nets up. grabbed his, turned them both over, and moved hers back to her side, leaving the card blanks in his out-stretched palm. His heart had started a beat when she moved and it was only finishing that same beat when her hand stopped at her side. There was the faintest grin in her eyes Woody had no idea what to make of this woman, but he knew something unusual was happening. Curiosity was gnawing at him and he wasn't sure it was entirely academic.
   "If you don't mind my asking, have you ever studied any martial arts?" He realized after he said it that it was probably a stupid question. Her subtle look of contempt confirmed it. "Okay, dumb question. You wouldn't be much of a security specialist if you couldn't even protect yourself." He pocketed the cards and wised his palms on his pant legs. "I run a little dojo over on the—"
   "I know."
   "Oh......yeah. I guess you would Anyway. I was wondering if you'd have time to sit in on a class sometime. Maybe give a few tips and pointers to the students. Real world kinda stuff."
   Her eyes narrowed just slightly for a second or so. "When?"
   "Well. I teach classes on….but I bet you know that already, too. When would be a good lime for you?"
   "Tonight at 7:00." That impish look was back in her eyes, as if she was playfully toying with a child. She must have pulled that hand move for his benefit, as if to say 'See what I can do? I dare you to try.'
   "Okay, great I'll be there a little early to open the place up.......but then I bet you don't need me to get inside, do you? Just don't break anything, okay?"
   "Anything?"
   "Like the locks or the alarm system. You know?"
   She actually flashed something like a small smile. "See you there," She turned and went out the door.
   Woody went back towards the office planning to turn the data pad report into Huber, but thought better of it at the last minute. If he went in there now, he'd no doubt be late for his last class. It could wait until morning. Nothing would get done about it anyway, and he had other things on his mind. He'd met other confident women before, some of them even his equal in the martial arts, but they always seemed a little pushy, like they had something to prove Bethany Johansson seemed like she had everything under control, like she didn't care what the world thought of her Woody was intrigued He floundered through his last class though the students didn't seem to notice or care He was still meandering verbally about the current political situation when the bell rang. The students dashed out of the room while he made no real effort to give them an assignment. Only five of them would even try to do it anyway.
   Woody followed his usual routine after school. He spent a couple hours trying to grade papers with little effect Finally he left and drove his aging Subaru Electric the same way he always went to the dojo. The drive took him past the only drive-up health food place for klicks, apparently most of the places that sold healthy food thought that somehow driving while you ate their cuisine would damage your karma or something. He got something with a lot of sprouts in it and ate as the car crawled through evening traffic. As he pulled into the parking lot next to the building that housed the local Musik-Attack store and his second floor studio he noticed a big black, gas burning thing that looked like it just had to be military surplus from Eastern Europe. He was trying to place where he might have seen one before when the door opened and Bethany Johansson slid out She wasn't carrying a bag or anything that could hold a change of clothes. Woody worried that perhaps she had changed her mind or had to dash off to more important business, as she strolled over. Woody got out fumbling for his duffel bag. "Are we still on for this evening?"
   "I'm here." she replied slowly sliding her hands into her coat pockets. She tipped her head toward the building. "Race ya."
   "What do you mean?"
   "Upstairs." She said it as if it were obvious.
   "Why?"
   "Why not?" That impish look was back again "I'll give you a head start."
   Woody wasn't sure what game she was playing, so he walked a bit faster than usual toward the door expecting her to dash past him at any time. As he reached to put the key in the lock he glanced back to see what she was waiting for Bethany Johansson was no where to be seen. Slightly puzzled, and feeling the beginnings of disappointment. Woody went inside and up the stairs. When he opened the door and checked the alarm, it was already off. He rounded the comer and was confronted with a lone figure in the center of the practice mat She'd apparently had enough time to hang up her coat and stood, feet apart, arms crossed, in a full length black bodysuit, padded at the shoulders, elbows, forearms, thighs, knees, shins, and hips. That impish look was back again. One of the side windows was open.
   "Okay, so I didn't get my shoes off." She began removing them from a standing position with no loss of balance as if she always did it that way Woody was impressed With both her agility and her figure It wasn't like a models or anything, but she was toned and shaped like one of those national aerobics competitors, only sleeker.
   "I guess you don't need to warm up," was all he could manage.
   "I'm always warmed up." she replied without looking at him. She put her shoes on the floor under the hook that held her long coat and returned to the center of the mat.
   Woody fumbled with his duffel. "I need to. uh....." he pointed towards the office changing room. She just nodded and closed her eyes. Woody walked around the mat in his street shoes, noticing that she was as still as any statue he could remember seeing.
   When he came back out in his uniform, she still hadn't moved as far as he could tell. He walked over to her side and reached up to tap her shoulder. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, much less react, he was looking at the long ceiling fluorescents. She was looking down at him with that impish look in her eye again.
   "I wasn't, uh." he blinked slowly three times, "ready." She shrugged her shoulders slightly while her head tilted a tiny bit to the right. She straightened, stepped back a half pace, and crossed her arms Woody rolled to his feet and took a few calming deep breaths. His pt se was just about up to workout pace already. When he felt centered, he moved to a standard stance and nodded his readiness. He expected blinding speed this time. He wasn't disappointed.
   Her first few strikes were undoubtedly just feints to feel out his defense, but Woody was less than comfortable with how narrowly he was blocking them. After the fifth one she stepped up the pace. It didn't take Woody long to realize he was going to be on the losing end of this exchange. He was moving in total desperation just to keep up a defense. There was absolutely no chance for him to take the fight to her. Finally, one of her moves got through. It was a reverse knife hand strike to the temple, but it was feather soft when it hit his head while the hits he had blocked had been punishing. As her hand moved away she said. "One." The flurries kept coming and Woody had a bad feeling about how high that count might go. After thirty seconds the count was up to six. Woody took three large quick steps back and put his palms forward. "Enough."
   He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve to cover the scared look that was probably on his face. It was clear that she was just toying with him. She could have taken him out of the fight at any time she wanted to and they both knew it. Woody tried to calm himself, but he felt just like he had when he was a tyro getting beaten regularly by the older kids in the dojo years ago Bethany Johansson was just starting to break a sweat.
   "You're good." It didn't sound like sarcasm.
   "I used to think I was pretty good, but I'm never gonna be in your league." he conceded. "Where the hell did you learn to fight like that? I mean. I don't recognize the style and I've never seen anybody as fast as you Are you on some kind of drugs or something?"
   "Or something." She winked briefly at him and turned away. Woody stood on the mat, puzzled, sweating, and breathing heavily as she glided over to the long table by the wall and sat on the with her lower legs crossed, feet under her knees. Every move she made was fluid, graceful and completely economical. Woody was definitely Impressed. Breaking out of his stupor, he got a towel and wiped up the moisture on the mat in preparation for the class that should be starting to arrive in a few minutes. Bethany just sat calmly on the table with her hands resting comfortably on her sleek, muscular thighs. She wasn't moving again and it made Woody feel a little edgy. He finally realized where he'd seen that kind of thing before. There were shows on those animal and nature channels from old Africa where big cats stalked and killed some kind of deer-like animals. She looked more relaxed than the prowling cats, but he imagined she could spring into motion just as quickly and with just as deadly results. Woody was pretty sure most "security consultants" didn't have the physical skills this woman had, and he was starting to wonder if that was an accurate description of her business. And where the hell had Huber found her? He probably just picked somebody out of the net-ads who advertised low prices and who cares if they're qualified or not. Jerk.
   Woody managed to putter around the dojo without making eye contact until the students had finished wandering in He gave them a few minutes to catch up on each other's gossip before lining them up with two loud claps. He ran them through stretching and warm up with out looking over to the side, but he knew she was watching with the fierce eyes of a predator.
   "Okay, last time I said we would learn a new combination tonight, but we have a special opportunity instead. Ms. Johansson is a Security Specialist here in the city and she has been generous enough to donate her evening to us. For those of you that get the opportunity to spa with her. I think you'll find her an interesting and challenging opponent. For those of you who don't, try to keep up. notice everything, and decide what you would have done differently, what worked, and what didn't." He looked over and Bethany held up three fingers on her right hand. As Woody picked out students, the rest of the class shuffled to the edge of the mat and she moved to the center Woody decided on his three most advanced students, two of them, a man and a woman, were five year veterans and knew enough to stay cut of each other's way The third was an eighteen year old kid who was moving up fast, had natural ability to spare, was a bit too aggressive, and didn't listen to instruction very carefully He could use a lesson in humility.
   The three moved into positions roughly equidistant from the black-clad woman in the center of the mat. She moved her hands up from her sides, palms inward diagonally and flexed her fingers. The students began to circle and move in closer. When the first one got in reach he sent a firm closed fist strike in and found it easily blocked and received a solid counter-strike at the same time Bethany was gone before he could move again. She moved around the tight circle tagging each of the others in turn. The kid looked angry. He moved in boldly and got a face full of mal for his trouble. As he rolled to his feet, the other two were exchanging a glance that acknowledged they were going to have to work together. The two students moved to opposing positions, leaving the kid excluded from the circle. He put on a fierce face and charged in punching, only to find himself looking at the ceiling and trying to suck air back into his lungs The others took full advantage of his distraction, and the female student actually landed a glancing blow to the shoulder An instant later, both students were on the mat tangled in each other's limbs Bethany moved to the center of the mat again "More. Weapons." was all she said. The three students had regained their feet as two more took staves from the wall and moved in. The two veteran students realized there was no room for close fighting between flashing staves and moved back to rest. The kid just couldn't let it go and dashed to the wall to snatch up a pair of Sai. He rejoined the fight and within seconds found himself relieved of his weapons and looking at the ceiling again. Bethany put the Sai to good use defending against the staves. Before long she had abandoned the Sai and had both staves, one in each hand. The students tried valiantly to use what they had learned about fighting an armed opponent with just their hands, but a few sharp whacks with a staff quickly discouraged them. Soon it was just Bethany in the center of the mat with a staff in each hand. She tossed both at once to Woody and bowed He managed to catch both and effect some son of small bow in return.
   As Woody returned the staves to the wall, one of the students who had been watching grabbed up the Sai and brought them over. The young girl raised her eyebrows and tipped her head toward the mat as Woody took them and said thanks. Woody nodded and lay the Sai on the shelf, he could rack them later. On the mat. Bethany was showing the kid, in slow motion. how she had so easily thrown him to the floor He looked like his curiosity was winning over his anger at being defeated. The rest of the class was spent with students taking turns making a slow motion attack and Bethany showing them two or three different ways to turn it against the attacker. The class ran half an hour over, but Woody didn't mind. The students finally filed out thanking Bethany and Woody for a great evening.
   After the last student had gone. Woody turned to his guest and asked. "You want to take a shower?" She raised her left eyebrow a little, let it down, smiled and shook her head.
   "Got a towel?" she asked.
   "Yeah." Woody tossed he' a towel before he shut the door and raced through a quick rinse and change. He wondered if she'd still be out there when he got done.
   When Woody emerged from the restroom, he was pleased to see Bethany still waiting. She'd put her shoes and coat back on and was standing motionless by the door. Woody skirted the mat with his keys in one hand and duffel in the other. She opened the door and stepped into the hall as he approached. She held the door open while he set the alarm.
   "That was hard." she offered.
   "Hmmmm?" he was distracted with the key for a moment "You made it look pretty damn easy."
   She slid one hand behind his head as he turned away from the door. "I'm not used to pulling punches." Before he could respond, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him heatedly on the lips. Woody stood stunned as she scampered down the stairs His thoughts and emotions swirled around each other almost as fast as his pulse. The last time he'd felt anything remotely like this was the day one of his students had pulled a gun in class. Turned out the kid was just showing off to another, it wasn't even loaded, but no teacher wants to see an angry youth waving a weapon around. Woody knew that was adrenaline born of fear, but what did he have to be afraid of here? He'd met an exciting woman who shared some of his interests, and had nothing to do with work, what could be dangerous about that? He realized that while he stood there trying to figure it out, she was likely pulling out of the parking lot and leaving. He would probably see her again if the school took her recommendations seriously, but what if Huber decided to let the whole security mailer drop. He had her card, but could he call her at work for a date? Was a dale really what he wanted or expected from this woman? The part of his brain that worked his feel decided the issue for him, and he nearly fell down the stairs before he got his movements organized. By the time he hit the door at the bottom, he was almost running. When he realized how it would look for him to burst outside in a rush it was already too late to slow enough He saw her vehicle still in the space as the door rebounded loudly off the wall and into his shoulder. Sethany Johansson was nowhere to be seen.
   As Woody chastised himself for freezing up on the landing and missing his best chance to keep this relationship going, he felt something just tickle the tip of his ear. He thought it nothing more than a moth until something the size of a rodent rubbed the top of his head He jerked down and around to look at the bottom of a familiar shoe. She was suspended in the corner between the stairwell and the wall of the building with her hands and the other foot. Without him there to block it, the door swung shut and she dropped lightly to the ground between Woody and the building
   "Dinner." she kept a straight face, but the impish gleam was in her eyes, "tomorrow."
   Woody opened his mouth to ask a question but she put a finger to his lips faster than he could speak. "Shhhh." When she moved the finger away, he asked it anyway.
   "What time?"
   "You'll know!" She didn't seem unhappy with him.
   "Where do you want to eat?" He hadn't been this nervous since high school
   "Your place," She walked away across the lot.
   "Does that mean, uh, that I'm cooking, or do you want to order something?"
   She turned around and walked backwards flawlessly long enough to put her finger to her lips, "Shhhhh." Woody got himself locked up between frustration and excitement long enough for her to make it into her truck and pull out of the lot. She waved and looked away before he could raise a hand in return. Woody started towards his car before he realized he'd left his duffel on the landing He managed to drive home without incident spent about an hour longer than it should have taken to grade some papers, and went to bed He fell asleep thinking and wondering about Bethany Johansson. He woke up the next morning feeling like something fundamental in his life had changed. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was looking forward to finding out.
   
   
   Chapter Three
   
   The day dragged on as slowly as any ewer had for Woody. He tried to think about work, but other thoughts kept creeping into his head It didn't help that he had to deal with the security recommendation report, he should have turned it in the day before Finally, he chickened out and put it in Huber's box with a quick note about how he thought the Board should do as much of It as they could afford Delivering It in person would probably give his opinion more weight, but he wasn't sure he could discuss it without the fact that he was really interested in the consultant in a completely personal way showing through He wrestled with himself about the report on and off throughout the day until the final bell sounded. The reality of the situation hit him square in the chest. Was he really letting some woman he'd barely just met, and knew nothing about into his home? And was it just dinner he was worried about? Was he ready to go where ever this went after that, or was he ready if it went nowhere? By the time he parked the car at home, he was concentrating on more Immediate Issues. Who was fixing dinner? As he rode the elevator to his floor he decided he'd just have to roll with what ever came along for the time being. He thought he liked the excitement of not knowing exactly what was happening next, but it scared the hell out of him too.
   As he put his palm on the lock he realized the TV was on inside. He never left it on, but then again this hadn't been just any regular morning for him. He figured it shouldn't have been a surprise to find Bethany relaxing on the center cushion of the sofa. She was wearing a skin-tight leather outfit and there were two cycle helmets, one on each side of her. Without looking away from the financial news, she tossed a bundle directly at him that turned out to be heavier than he expected He managed to keep his grip on the bundle, but dropped his briefcase on his foot.
   "Hope that fits." She kept her attention glued to the set. She seemed intensely interested in the closing repot from the stock market. Woody went into the bedroom to see what he was trying on. Half an hour later he discovered that the bodysuit did indeed fit, but only if he wore nothing but his jockeys under it. The shoes didn't leave room for socks, but were surprisingly comfortable even so. It took quite a bit of strength to work his hands into the matching gloves. The whole outfit clung like a second skin which felt kind of good in a freedom of movement way, but it also left him feeling very exposed as well. He fiddled around in front of the mirror long enough to convince himself that it wasn't as revealing as it felt. Finally, he got up the courage to open the door and go back into the living room Bethany had turned off the TV and was standing, holding both helmets, by the time he walked in She held one of them out to him and he took it without really thinking about it. She looked him up and down once.
   "Ready!"
   "Yeah. I guess so. What are we doing?"
   "Come on." She lead the way out of the apartment and onto the elevator which had just opened on their floor without anyone getting out. That almost never happened. On the ride down, she seemed distracted and kept tapping her fingers on her helmet as If she was listening to music only she could hear. Woody took advantage of the moment to steal a few long glances at her. The cycle suit looked good on her, and he had a feeling she knew it. When the doors opened, she stepped out into the parking garage under the building. He looked for a second before he followed. There was a large, sleek black motorcycle he'd failed to notice on his way in parked jus' fee' from the elevator, in a yellow striped zone Bethany put her helmet on as she slid her leg over and straddled the machine. Woody fumbled his helmet on and joined her a little awkwardly. When she reached back over her shoulder to the side of his helmet and used her thumb to flip some small switch under the edge, the helmet came alive. Music flooded into the closed space and the face shield lit up with a dashboard display from the bike. The words "Hang On" appeared across the center of the display as the engine roared to life. He wrapped his arms around her waist just as they shot away from the wall, narrowly missing a support column. Woody had ridden on a few cycles before, but they were all hybrids. This was his first time on a gas only model. It had a tremendous amount of acceleration and was a bit more nimble than he was comfortable with. He wondered if he would feel like eating when they got where ever they were going.
   Bethany rolled the bike out onto the street without stopping to check for traffic. Woody cringed a little. He wanted to take a look at the display on his face plate, but he was too distracted by the chances she took and the narrow spaces she shot the bike through. Woody felt a strong urge to keep his knees in tight to the bike. By the time he felt comfortable enough with the fact that they hadn't hit anything yet to look around, they were rocketing south on Lake Shore Drive at 150 kph. He was getting a little nervous about their destination, there wasn't anything good down around Undertown. The area outside the Containment Zone was safe enough if you didn't mind the concrete, the APCs. and the troops with guns everywhere. Woody had driven through the area a few times just to see if the militarized images from the news were anything like reality. They weren't far off. He was greatly relieved when they got on 55 going west. When he realized they were leaving the city, he tried to ask Bethany just exactly where they were going, but she didn't seen to be able to hear him over the wind, through both helmets, and over the music blasting inside his head. He had no idea what it was, but it had a driving beat, the words were hard to understand, and it sounded like it might have gone out of style a decade or so ago
   By the time they had cleared Joliet going 250 kph and dodging things on the highway with only centimeters of clearance, he was pretty much happy that he hadn't wet himself He was wondering, in the idle second or two between near collisions, when exactly the cops were going to descend on them like the creatures in a science fiction movie. Looking around only made the feeling of speed worse, so he resolved not to do it anymore. In fact he spent several minutes with his eyes pinched tightly shut after he noticed that they had no lights on He tightened his grip on Bethany's toned, firm torso but she didn't seem to notice. He had gotten used to the display in the helmet which outlined the other traffic in a blue glow that turned red if they got too close, but when he had started looking around the display had trouble keeping his view current He was hurtling down the road well over the speed limit. on a small darkened vehicle with no roof or doors as the chill night air stole the heat from his neck until it hurt. He should have realized that choosing to get on the bike would leave him without a choice about getting back off.
   After what seemed like half the night to Woody, they shot past the "Welcome to St. Louis" sign. Woody was relieved to see the display indicating a decrease in speed down to something at least resembling legal city limit. He had no idea where they were or where they were going, but it was a relief to feel like they might arrive intact. Somewhere out on the west side of the city, they pulled into a parking lot full of odd and outdated vehicles.
   There were a couple other fast looking gas bikes, but mostly the lot held tough looking all-wheel-drive things that looked like they could eat an electric car as a snack Woody was happy to be off the bike but found his muscles weren't completely ready for him to stand, though he was managing. Bethany took his helmet and locked it in a little bracket on the bike next to hers. She tipped her head in the direction of the nearest building, a big dark thing that Woody thought was an abandoned warehouse, and walked over with him lagging a bit behind There was a recessed door with a keypad that looked like it should have been lighted, but Bethany tapped in some code without a second thought The door opened onto a long hall that ran against the outside wall along the back of the building At the far corner, there was another door but it was blocked by a guy about the same size as a door Bethany walked a little ahead of Woody and put her hand up to shield the side of her face briefly as the guard stared. The big man made a slight nod to her and looked directly at Woody.
   "C'mon, flash man." he growled.
   Woody had no idea what the correct response was. he thought about putting his hand up like Bethany had, but that would only expose him if there was some kind of code word or something Bethany interjected on his behalf before he could make an ass out of himself "He's with me." was all she said.
   "No biz. You know the rules." the large bouncer said.
   "Yeah. I do." She seemed Irritated with the man.
   He shrugged and opened the door letting music pour out like a tidal wave.
   The inside of the Building was clearly some kind of Bar or club. But it looked like a cross between a hospital and a high tech machine shop and scrap yard Woody noticed there were al least three hundred people in the place and most of them looked in his direction when he and Bethany entered the room. Most, but not all. Those that didn't look had a certain Bearing that Bespoke a confidence Born of experience Woody had seen in mature Black Belts and war veterans. The others were clearly posers and wanna-be hangers on. Not surprisingly, the confident veterans were in small groups with their own kind and pointedly ignored the rest of the crowd. He also noticed the rest of the crowd seemed to be entering the Building from the other side in small clots as others left. Bethany definitely fit into the veteran crowd, though Woody wondered just what they were veterans of.
   Without any real effort, she was cutting a path through the crowd like fire in a dry field He couldn't see exactly where she was headed but he was content to follow along and soak up the awed looks of the posers and keep his cool He didn't really know the score yet But he was pretty sure he was on the winning team. There was a little clear area in the Back of the room that held a low table surrounded on three sides with a black leather sectional sofa. The five people sealed there were clearly of the same elite crowd.
   The man on the left was probably the biggest Hispanic that Woody had ever seen. The guy had to be at least a meter nine and around a hundred eighty Kilos. It didn't look like his body fat percentage was any higher than Woody's though. He had a lot of geometric tattoos on his arms below the sleeves of his t-shirt. Woody idly wondered where you bought a shirt that big. Next around the semi circle was a plain looking Caucasian woman in dark synthetic clothes. She had dark, medium length hair and kept her hands in her jacket pockets. She seemed almost frozen in place, only moving her eyes without ever blinking. Next to her was a black man with the physique of a professional football player. He wore loose, casual clothes with some sports team logo Woody couldn't place. He seemed totally relaxed as he sprawled on the center section of the sofa. Around the corner was an Asian woman with a build much like Bethany's only somewhat slighter. She wore skin-tight pants and vest in blood red leather. Her neck, upper chest, and arms showed a series of scars that looked like they were made by something thin and very sharp Woody couldn't find a pattern like tribal scars or anything and wondered if they could've come from knife fighting, or worse. Farthest on the right was a woman unlike any Woody had ever seen before. He couldn't place her race exactly, she had faint narrowing at the comer of her eyes, but not as much as he did and he was only half Asian Her skin was darker than while, but not as dark as black. He wondered if she might be some kind of Pacific Islander, but her luxurious long copper hair confused him yet again. She was, to put it bluntly, drop dead gorgeous. He imagined she would have only looked better standing, even in the blue jeans and shimmery black blouse she wore without jewelry
   As they neared the table the immense Hispanic looked up at Bethany and said. "Nice hair."
   The Asian woman across the table looked at the Hispanic and without obvious malice said. "You shit."
   Bethany stopped near the table and addressed the Hispanic man. "What, you jealous Choo?"
   "Naw. Where you been woman? Startin' to worry a little." the man replied.
   Before Bethany could answer, the plain woman spoke. "Who's he?"
   Bethany answered. "He's a friend, Skitch. Safe. Not like the twitchy one over there."
   The woman now identified as Skitch flicked her eyes to her left ten degrees. "Yeah, asshole is gonna go inside a week."
   Bethany turned her attention to the man in the middle. "Don't get up Torch. I wouldn't want you to get up a sweat or anything." The black man smiled and gave a small shrug in reply. Bethany reached over the table to cross palms with the Asian woman as the gorgeous woman stood up. Woody was right, she was a knock-out Bethany let go of the Asian woman's hand saying. "Nice one Silver." She turned to the stunning woman on the end and Woody was a little shocked when the two kissed full on the lips. It wasn't just a little kiss, it lingered for a moment and he started to wonder what kind of a past these two might have had.
   The tall woman looked at Woody as if he might be tasty while clearly speaking to Bethany. "Where'd you get this one? He a prodigy or something?"
   "No Vertical, he's real people. You know, you've seen them on the pews sometimes? Citizens? Those people?" She seemed a little annoyed with the woman she'd just been kissing on the lips. Woody was sure they had some kind of past now. Did it mean anything that Bethany seemed to be defending him? What exactly was she defending him from? Her friend's jealousy, or something darker?
   Bethany was addressing the whole table now. "If you're all here, who's getting things done? There a strike or something?"
   The Asian woman with the scars. Silver, smiled. "Just a slow night, eh? Must be the weather. Some of 'em get nicer when the sun shines."
   "Yeah. I buy that." she gestured over her shoulder al him, "This is Woody Play nice."
   "Clue?" asked Torch.
   "No Clue." Skitch said, barely moving any facial muscles.
   "So what's up, Shatter?" Torch directed at Bethany.
   Bethany tipped her head slightly. "Sooner or later."
   Vertical let go or her aloof facade for a moment. "Girl, you went over? How?"
   Bethany shrugged. "So far....."
   "Don't be a bitch, you bitch." intersected Silver. It wasn't said with any real malice that Woody could hear.
   "It's just….never mind." Vertical gave a flourish with one manicured hand and went back to scoping the club like she might be looking for a meal
   "Can't stay. Good to see you all," she aimed a thumb over her shoulder at Woody. "He has a real job. Reg hours, reg pay, reg sleep. That a scream? You all got it?"
   The others nodded and gave mumbled acceptance. Bethany turned and pulled Woody by the arm. He waited till they were out of ear shot before asking the obvious question
   "We're leaving? We only just got here."
   "Yeah, longer would be rude." She let go since he seemed to be following on his own. They were headed for the same door they came in. Woody was puzzled by the whole thing. Why drive all the way here just to spend a minute and a half? And what about dinner?
   Bethany opened the door on the bouncer's back. hooked his ankle, and used both hands to launch him into the opposite wall Just as he hit the floor and started to roll over she announced. "Asshole" The bouncer got quickly to his feet as if he expected the trouble to continue.
   "Stupid?" asked Bethany.
   The big guy looked seriously pissed, but made no aggressive moves. Woody thought the guy was angrier that he was somehow prevented from doing anything in return than he was about being attacked in the first place Woody wasn't sure what kind of place this was or what the rules were, but he had a creeping suspicion that his life was going down a different set of tracks than he would have chosen on his own
   They got back on the bike and stopped a few blocks to a little Mom & Pop diner with a musical theme about 50 years out of date. Woody noticed that Bethany seemed more relaxed than she had inside that club. He really hadn't known her all that long, but it seemed to him the only time she was truly relaxed was when she was living in the moment, concentrating on the task at hand. Not that she had ever seemed all that tense to him, but she seemed somehow calmer when she was fighting at the dojo or piloting her bike through light traffic.
   As they got off the bike. Woody asked the question that had been with him since that kiss.
   "That woman in the jeans. Is she....I mean was she, or, were you, maybe you and she, uh, you know......?"
   "Lovers?"
   "Well, yeah. I kinda have to wonder, you know?"
   "No That's just how she is If you meet her again, she'll probably put her hand down your pants Nothing personal."
   "So, are they in the same business? Security?"
   "You could say that. If I didn't know you. I'd say you sound like a Suit."
   "That sounds like a bad thing."
   "Yeah. Suits are pretty heinous. Not really people at all. Just greedy and weak."
   They entered the diner and took a booth in the comer. There were only half a dozen people in the place including the employees. The waitress took their order almost instantly. It seemed they only served thirty variations on the same basic burger and she looked excited just to see people.
   Woody continued the conversation "I have about a thousand questions I'd like to ask you, but I don't want to step in anything ugly, you know?"
   "Like what?"
   Woody decided that meant 'what questions' rather than 'what kind of ugly'. "Well, what does it say on your contact lenses?"
   Bethany put the back of her thumb on her forehead and used her fingers to pull her eyelid up as she leaned across the table Woody leaned forward some so she wouldn't have to press the table into her ribs and took a good look into her eye. The writing was the name of a European company that made optical equipment. He was pretty sure that the science labs in college had some of their microscopes. He was trying to figure out what color her eyes might be under the lenses when he realized that there was no shadow line where the edge should be. His brow pinched down a bit as he leaned to one side to make sure. He leaned over to the other side and checked the other eye
   "I read where they plan to start testing artificial replacement eyes in humans later this year. It looks like you have two of them already. You must have, like, military connections or something."
   "No Black Market."
   "There's a Black Market in prototype medical prosthesis? How did you lose your real eyes?"
   "Surgeon took 'em out."
   Woody had a bad feeling about where this might be going "What was wrong with them?"
   "Weren't enough to stay dead."
   "You mean they were diseased or something?"
   "No."
   "But that means you just had your eyes taken out of your head and replaced with artificial ones because….you could? Why would you do that?"
   "You work with danger, you need the edge."
   "You don't just tell people what kind of alarms to buy, do you?"
   "I do now."
   "So what was the most interesting job you ever worked? You ever guard a President on anything. Any superspy kind of intrigue? Save the world from evil and all?"
   She looked sad in an impassive sort of way. "Its not like that at all. I got out. Let it go."
   "Sorry. I guess I had this image. So are those people we met in that club in that part of the business?"
   She sipped slowly at her water, almost as if she were stalling. "Yeah."
   Woody plowed on, "And those other people in there, the wanna-be ones, they know what kind of business your friends are in?"
   "They think they do."
   "And this is what they aspire to?" He pondered his own question for a moment, "How would they get into that kind of business anyway?"
   "Most can't. Some will. They won't last. Nobody from outside ever has. They don't have what it takes."
   "Huh." Woody feared he was treading on a sensitive area so he changed the subject to something more banal "So where'd you grow up anyway?"
   Bethany waited while the waitress set down their food trying to be polite and brief at the same time. After she was gone. Bethany looked him right in the eye. "In the Zone."
   Woody almost had a seizure. When he remembered to breathe again, all he could manage was. "Really?"
   "Yeah, really"
   "You mean, like, Undertown?"
   "Yeah, except nobody from inside calls it that. Its a Q-Zone They don't care so much if you go in. but they care a lot if you want out"
   "I should probably keep this to myself, right?" She gave a serious nod. "I never would have guessed you were from there, so I'm thinking that most of what I've heard about the place is wrong. So what's it really like?" Bethany continued eating and waned for him to go on. I mean, the news people make it look like it's the worst ghetto on the whole planet. Like all the people there are ignorant savages and mental defectives. But you're not like that at all." He wasn't sure what he was asking yet, there was so much that didn't make sense about the situation, "So, you spent your whole life there?"
   "No I'm out now."
   "Sorry. I mean, the whole beginning part of your life. You were born in there?"
   "Yeah."
   "So....how did you learn to read? Do they have schools or something in there?"
   "My mother taught me before she died. Survival skill."
   "Survival skill?"
   "If I gave you a colorful box of thirty red things that smelled like cherry would you know whether they were safe to eat if you couldn't read the label?"
   Woody pondered for a moment. "I guess I always took it for granted. I never thought about it that way before. So, if you don't mind my asking, how did your mom die?"
   "The Zone killed her. She wasn't tough enough."
   "No, I mean, how exactly. Disease, old age, violence, or something else?"
   "Violence. She had food. We had food." Woody looked like he wanted to inquire further but wasn't sure it he should. She settled it for him. "Eat your food."
   After they had eaten, Bethany got up from the table and went to the counter to pay. As Woody watched her svelte form, he realized that he hadn't though to bring any cash. For that matter, he hadn't thought to stuff his ID and his smart cards into one of the surfs many flat pocket. Suddenly he felt very exposed again. He followed her outside and got behind her on the bike.
   The ride home was pretty much the same as the ride down, but it didn't seem as bad to Woody now that he knew what to expect. There was one spot where they squeezed between two multi-trailer land trains with only a centimeter or two to spare that made him sweat, but he was confident that Bethany could handle the bike. He was also distracted from the traffic by the thought swirling in his heart and in his head. He wasn't sure what this was between the two of them, nothing new, but he wasn't sure what he wanted it to be either and that worried him more. Before long they were pulling into his garage. She came to a smooth s just in front of the elevator and shut off the bike. Woody got off, but she stayed on.
   "Uh, you want to wait while I change out of these?" He handed her the helmet
   She took her helmet off and smiled. "Keep 'em."
   "I had fun tonight. Well, I had fun being with you, other parts of this evening scared the crap out of me. Will I see you again?"
   She stood and grabbed both sides of his head. "There's nowhere you can hide." She kissed him, slid back on the bike, and started it With one hand while putting her helmet on with the other. Woody watched her lissome form astride the massive motorcycle glide up the ramp and out into the night. His mind was tar too occupied to put his feet to work for several minutes. Some of the things hernias feeling were very familiar and some were completely new. He decided that was a good thing and finally pushed the elevator button.
   
   
   Chapter Four
   
   Victor Santra sat in his high tech, stainless steel, fully adjustable, leather covered mimetic gel upholstered, back massaging chair behind his very low tech desk. The desk was just tour granite columns topped by a ten centimeter slab of obsidian. The stone slab meant that he couldn't have all the essential everyday electronics set into the like every power monger in town, but that was a big part of what he liked about it. Having all the tools of business out on the surface had a sort of visceral feeling to it and it often confused people about his capabilities long enough for him to get their measure. He was going over the quarterlies trying to figure out the best place to squeeze out the rest of the settlement in case they lost the PurStik case. Which it looked like they would, now that the central witness was no longer able to testify.
   He had just about decided to pinch the budget from Arid Non-arable Desert Region Tool Research and Development when Ms. March messaged him from the outer office that time was a Detective Sergeant named Rand waiting to see him, without an appointment. The Detective wouldn't say what it was about, but Victor had a pretty good idea. He tapped in a code that would bring Rausch running, but not the rest of the security forces. He waited twenty seconds more and approved the message to let the policeman in.
   Ms. March let Rand in almost exactly the same moment that Rausch came in through the side door. The two sized each other up like backyard dogs deciding whose side of the line they were on.
   Victor was already on his feet. "Please come in Mr. Rand. Would you like a beverage? Coffee, tea, water, juice, anything?" Rand shook his head. "Then please take a seat and explain how we can help the Police keep the city safe for all its citizens." As Rand sank awkwardly into one of the expensive chairs in front of the desk, Victor went on, "This is Mr. Rausch, our Head of Security and Legal Defense. He's here in an advisory capacity, as is company policy in any matter involving the Police. You understand, of course." Victor managed to keep his contempt to himself.
   "Yeah, I get it I have a few questions about the killings at the Lake Hotel awhile back. Who was this Ms. Greene and why was your company so interested in her welfare?"
   "She was a crucial witness in a pending lawsuit. Normally, we wouldn't have gone to such lengths for someone like her, but the poor woman was in absolute terror for her life. She was convinced that the parties from the other side were going to keep her from telling the truth in court by doing away with her. It appears her fears had factual basis after all."
   "Okay, who are all the other bodies? The people in the hallway."
   "Outside security personnel contracted for the duration of the trial through a temp agency. We don't normally keep those kind of people on staff."
   "And why were you there?" Rand watched Victor's face carefully for small tell-tale signs, and was impressed by their absence.
   Victor gave a slight shrug. "Ms. Greene was in a state of panic about the whole thing. We rented and secured the entire floor, but she only seemed to calm down after I agreed to stay there. It wasn't a rational reaction on her part, since the security was exactly the same after my arrival." The detective was taking notes impassively. "Our interest was never to terrorize the woman, only to have her speak out on behalf of justice, its simply terrible that others are so afraid of the truth that they would execute an innocent person."
   "And the man in charge, Robert, he was caught in the crossfire? The survivors are unclear on the event of that night."
   "Yes, I believe that's what happened. When I took his radio to see it I could find out what was going on, I believe he was already dead. He looked it, but I don't have much expertise in that area. Do you think its possible one of our personnel killed him on purpose?"
   "We're still investigating. We have a lot of evidence to go through. We only have two types of slugs so far, and no clear accounts of the event. How many perps were there?"
   "I don't really know. There was a great deal of shooting going on in the hallway. I kept my head down until it stopped. From the damage I'd say there was a whole platoon out there, but I don't think there is actually that much room in the hall. Perhaps it was just a few highly trained operatives?"
   "And what is this lawsuit between you and DSP international about?"
   "That's not really my area of expertise, but all the papers that have been filed are a matter of public record. And I'm sure Ms. March can give you copies of all our statement and releases to the press. I really wish I could speak more freely about this, but the case is still pending. You know how lawyers can be."
   Rand glanced sidelong at Rausch before rising from the chair. "Well, thanks for seeing me and answering my questions, Vic. I'll leave my info with your secretary in case you think of anything else that might help."
   Victor stayed seated. "I can't imagine that I will. I have work to do. Please leave."
   Rand understood that the climate had changed in the room, but not exactly why. He took one more look around on his way out. "Thanks for your time."
   Victor waited until several seconds after the door closed. "Sanctimonious little twit." He still had his eyes focused on the door. "You deal with him."
   "Sir, I've been meaning to ask you about the events at the hotel."
   "What exactly do you want to know?"
   "Well sir, it is a shame that Mr. Robert died without a de- briefing. I wondered if you could fill in some details. As I understand it, there was only one assassin?"
   "Only one that I saw. That indicates a professional. That means somebody didn't play by the rules. You go after the witnesses and the lawyers, never the real player."
   "Uh, I don't mean to be disrespectful Sir, but I think you'd be dead if you were the target. Somebody who makes it to the fourteenth floor, kills the witness, kills seven other people, and makes it out clean could have easily put you on the menu as well."
   "I don't care. They should have never hit someone so close to me. I want retribution. I want to set an example. You don't take that kind of job. I want the asset responsible brought before me and executed."
   "Sir, I wonder it you know how much heat that's likely to bring down on us. The only rule they've ever set was that we never target one of them. I can imagine what would happen it the rest of them put us on the shit list."
   "So find away to blame somebody else. That is part of your job is it not?"
   Rausch knew better than to answer. He'd had that discussion with Victor once, and once was enough. "Yes, Sir. I'll get started right away." He turned and left the office with both of them knowing he would take his own time looking into it. He always dragged his feet a little when the assignment was hateful. Victor didn't mind, as long as he got the job done he could pout all he wanted.
   
   
   Chapter Five
   
   The next day at school, Woody could barely keep his mind on his work. He'd taught the same material for several years, so only the sharper students were likely to notice, and there weren't many. By 2:00 he had decided not to use the gym in his tree period, but rather spend the time in the Library on the computer. He was so eager to get a corner machine that he actually let his class out halt a minute before the bell.
   He got one that would afford him the privacy he needed and proceeded to fiddle around until all the students were seated and ignoring him. His first search was for "Undertown" and mostly netted him a lot of mainstream news and press releases by various authorities. He only found a few places where it was called "The Zone" or the "Q-Zone" but those entries seemed to hit closer to the mark. He ran the search again with those as subjects. The results spooling out before him affirmed his hunch, those who called it "Zone" either knew more or at least thought they did. He skimmed the subics and listings, frequently tagging them to send to his home system so he could go over them in more detail and privacy. He hoped that this would just look like a Social Studies teacher trying to keep up on current events if anybody bothered to look.
   
   He had to rush near the end so as not to be late to his class, he didn't want to start a pattern of poor performance that might get Huber's attention. He went about his normal routine for the rest of the day, barely concealing his eagerness to go home. He could empathize with the students on that one.
   When he finally got home, he threw something from the fridge into the nuke box and gulped it as he headed for the living room. The Attractive, Fully Integrated, Flush Mounted News and Entertainment System was already printing out and collating the last article. There was a small mountain of information waiting for him. He spent the entire evening silting and reading, staying up several hours later than normal.
   The Zone ran from I-57 and I-294 on the west to I-94 on the east with the south edge at I-80. The feds had been responsible for putting up the walls thirty years ago, calling in the National Guard to do the work. The Guard had never left. There were a few interesting papers aimed at Guard personnel preparing them for "What to expect during your tour on the Wall" and the like. Apparently the residents of Undertown were considered armed and dangerous at all times. Guard personnel had been attacked and fire bombed quite a bit in the early days of containment and were authorized to fire upon anyone committing a hostile action ever since.
   The more he read, the more it began to nag Woody that none of these articles said anything substantial about why the Wall was put up in the first place. Officially, the Zone was devoid of law when the Wall went up and squatters had been breaking in ever since. The troops on the Wall were not concerned with people getting in, only that they stay there once they did. The major news media seemed to accept the official line that the Wall was erected after a bloody riot and was there to protect the rest of the metro area from growing civil unrest. Smaller rogue media had turned up countless people willing to tell the world that there was no riot and the whole thing was some kind of cover-up, though just what was being covered up got fuzzy very quickly. Speculation ranged from mind control experiments, to disease, to toxic spills, to terrorist chemical attack, to alien landing, to the Gateway to Hell. Nobody really had the answer, what they did know was that sometime in the early hours of the morning on a night thirty one years ago, all sorts of government and emergency personnel converged on the area and cut all communications and movement to and from the section of city that was now the Containment Zone. Neighbors reported seeing armed soldiers keeping scared but healthy looking resident from leaving the area. Some report had soldiers shooting those who would not comply. Air traffic was banned within a halt mile radius, and still was to this day. There were photos from the last ten years that clearly showed evidence that people were alive inside the Zone taken from a variety of precarious vantage points. The most celebrated was line video feed from a guy who had attached about fifty helium balloons to a lawn chair, strapped himself in, and let the prevailing winds do the rest. The footage didn't show much more than any of the stills, but it was interesting to note, most writers agreed, that his transmission stopped when he was just past the wall, a full sixty seven seconds before rifle fire from the guardsmen brought him down. There was plenty of footage of that, the guy had three cameras watching his escapade from differ entangles. The news service he worked for was fined out of existence, but not before somebody put the video on the world net
   Undertown was a sore spot and a favorite whipping boy to politicians. Those whose districts bordered by it were plagued by questions. Those who had the luxury of distance used it every election to drum up support or to divert attention, but no one seemed able or willing to actually do anything about it. There was also great sound bite debate about what could be done. How could the people inside be integrated back into society? Should they? Would it cost more to keep the Zone than it would to clean it up? Where did the funds come from? Whose budget should support it, local or Federal? There was an endless sea of discussion, but no where was there any change. People were still getting into the zone, but they never came out at least not officially anyway. Nobody knew what they did with the dead inside the Zone. Nobody seemed eager to discuss it either.
   As Woody sifted through the data, his mind tried to connect it on a more personal level. Unless Bethany had lied to him about growing up there, people did get out. Woody was inclined to believe her, both because he liked her and because she didn't seem like the kind of person who took the time to construct lies. She definitely seemed hard edged enough to have grow up some place without law and order, a place where likely enough might made you right. But she didn't seem like the heartless savages the media made the Zone denizens out to be. Maybe there was more to this than it seemed on the surface.
   He continued reading and was intrigued by the subculture that had risen around the Zone. There were actually followers of this strange phenomenon. Many of them had moved into the surrounding area when soldiers, search lights, APCs, and concrete walls had driven down property values and driven out residents near the Zone. They were dubbed "Zonies" by major media and dismissed as zealots or just greedy people taking advantage of cheap homes. One Zonie, practically a deity to the others, claimed to have made it into and out of the Zone. Officials dismissed her as a liar, but took full advantage of any question about her to reassure the citizens that they were completely safe from the savages in the Zone and always managed to include some credit for themselves.
   
   The woman who claimed to have visited the Zone and lived to tell the tale had an unpronounceable Russian name and so other Zonies formally titled her Zonaria. She had an electronic cult following even though no one had seen or heard from her in person in years. She reportedly took a phone, a radio, a still camera, and a video camera with her on her adventure. According to legend, the phone and radio wouldn't work anywhere inside the zone but functioned properly when brought back outside. There was great debate about the lack of video, but consensus seemed to have it that she was forced to barter the camera for her life shortly after arriving. There were countless stills attributed to her though, and also much debate about which ones were real and which real ones were hers. If the pictures were real, the Zone was a place from one of those apocalyptic movies. There was no power, no water, and no garbage pick up. There were, however, a great many people surviving there. The pictures were never clear and the clear ones were never accepted as real, so it was difficult to get much detail. It looked like a darker, dirtier version of all the rest of the worlds ghettos. Woody felt a pang of sympathy and guilt for Bethany's childhood in a place like that. He couldn't help wondering what kind of things she must have done and survived in such a place, but those thoughts made him more anxious than he was comfortable with so he buried himself in the data, telling himself that she had survived so she must be okay.
   Religions either tried not to discuss the Zone and it's inhabitants or had a field day condemning them or trying to find ways to help them. As Woody was watching video of The Reverend William Stern saying, "How can we ignore these poor souls crying out for succor and salvation..." he began to wonder a bit himself. The Zone was mentioned in the media weekly, whole subcultures concerned themselves with it in varying intensities, and yet it was considered gauche not to ignore it in daily society. People found it entertaining and it made a great way to scare kids into behaving, but no one really had any genuine interest in the people inside the Wall. After all, nobody had to live next to it (except for Zonies who did it by choice) and there was a freeway right-of-way surrounding it anyway. As long as the problem stayed inside the Wall, nobody really cared what was going on or why. Woody felt a responsibility to do something. Even if it was just to find out the truth, he vowed to do what he could to make the situation better. He really hoped he'd get to see Bethany again. Maybe he'd wait a few days and call her at her work number anyway, he could always say it was in the interest of the social good.
   
   
   
   Chapter Six
   
   She stood on the root in darkness and checked the quick-release harness one more time. She had used hang gliders a few times before, but never between buildings this tall. It didn't really frighten her, but it paid to be extra sure when the risks were higher. The glider was as light absorbing as it could be and there was a foggy mist over the city tonight, which should make it harder for anyone to notice what she was about to do. She lifted the tail of the carbon fiber frame off the roof membrane and with grace and great power ran for the edge. She lifted her feet just in time to clear the low wall at the roof edge and sailed silently across the street.
   She pulled the release as she slid over the edge of the next building, letting the glider sail on into the dark. It was weighted so it should crash somewhere in the nearby park where she had arranged for someone to dispose of it. She landed in a forward roll that ended in a crouch next to one of the large HVAC units. She listened for a few heartbeats, and what she heard bothered her. There was a voice from over by the stair access. She moved silently around the maze of mechanicals to a spot where she could learn more.
   There was a man pacing around in front of the only door off the roof, taking on his phone. He was having an argument with his girlfriend about the hours he worked and whether he was getting ahead fast enough. Shatter waited silently and without motion for eight minutes while he finished his call. If she was quick enough she might be able to catch the door, eliminating the need to deal with the lock. The man put the phone in his pocket, tipped his head back and blew air at the sky. He walked over to the door and tried the knob. It was locked. He cursed and tried it again. Still locked. He pulled his phone back out, opened it, re-considered, and put it back away. He waked to the edge of the roof, cupped his hands to his mouth, and began yelling at people fifteen stories below.
   She decided he was an idiot and silently made her way to the door. Chances were good she could have it open and closed again before he got the idea that pedestrians couldn't hear him. She was just starting on the lock when the man turned his head and saw her. He jerked around, lost his footing, and fell back over the edge. Asshole. Once she was out of sight inside the building, the confusion could work in her favor, but right now she had to get off this roof, fast. She got the door open and sprinted down one floor. She went into the hall and got out of sight as fast as she could. She waited while the few people still in the building at this hour got the word and grabbed elevators for the street and the floor. Some wanted to see the body and some wanted to be the first to see if there was a note. For some reason she couldn't understand, real world people still felt the need to leave paper letters behind when they killed themselves.
   She made her way down the stairs when it was safe and stepped out on the ninth floor to look for the office she was supposed to hit. There was a cluster of people at the far end of the hall in the doorway to the only office with its lights on.. One look at the room numbers near her and a quick count told her the bad news. What an asshole. She opened an office near her and yanked the fire alarm on the way into the darkness closing the door behind her. She could hear the people bumbling around for a minute before one of them decided that maybe the guy jumped because the upper floors were on fire. The others followed him to the stars like frightened sheep.
   At least they left the guy's office open. She was tired of being subtle. She used some liquid nitrogen and a hammer to get into the wall s ate and just put the entire contents into a black bag she pulled from a pocket on her lower back. Now all she had to do was get the hell out of this place with the cops and the fire department running all over it. Phone Boy and his Asshole. There had to be a better way to make a living. Hell, there had to be a better way to Hue. This was just supposed to be a test of the building security, a straight world job, one of the few she'd had offered since coming over to the light. Now it was fucked. Totally.
   She made her way down through the building, avoiding emergency people made it a slow process. Even its he could convince the client that the jerk had tossed himself off the roof, they would figure that she used an unusual situation to help her. That meant the job was trashed. She wondered if they would let her re-try later. She thought about putting the stuff back in the safe, but she had already trashed it. She had an idea. She kicked in a door at random and used the phone to make a single call. It was answered after one ring, the only people who called it had the number.
   "You see me?" she barely waited for a response. "What's worth stealing on the ninth floor?" She listened intently for eighteen seconds. "Thanks." She hung up and checked the hall. It was clear for the moment, she thought about using the stairs to go back up, but it was just too slow. The elevators were all locked down from the fire alarm, so why not go the quick way? Screw all this mundane sneaking around. She was back upstairs in minutes. She made a point of damaging the doors this time so it looked like this was the objective all along. They could wonder how and where she got into the shaft. She opened and emptied five more safes, making sure she hit the one with the disk of prototype designs. She would offer it to the console cowgirl as payment for taking her call and helping her out.
   
   She went back to the elevators. One of them was moving. That would be the fire department She wouldn't have too much trouble avoiding them, it just meant she might have to traverse over to the other side in case they looked in the open doors. She slid down the access ladder and was in the basement about the same time the firefighters entered the ninth floor. There were more of them down here trying to hook up the stand pipes, but they were easy to sneak past.
   Nobody had shut off the alarm yet, so after a quick glance to make sure she recognized the system, she pushed open afire escape and went up the stairs to the alley. Getting away from here on out was easy. She could call the client and make like she had nothing to do with this mess. They would likely buy it, but they already had the answer to their question. That meant she wasn't getting paid. Maybe she should have waited until the place was completely empty and dealt with the electronic security instead. At least machines worked the way they were supposed to.
   
   
   Chapter Seven
   
   Woody didn't have long to wait to hear from Bethany. He anguished over calling her for a few days, but the issue was settled for him on the next Friday. He left the school knowing that he really should go to the faculty mixer that was held at Principal Huber's house every month, but he could dream up at least forty ways he'd rather spend the evening. Daydreams of Bethany figured into the thirty four of them. The mixer wasn't technically required, but it was common knowledge that if you missed them regularly you'd get on Huber's shit list to stay. Huber had made a point of getting to know several of the School Board members and regularly fed them whatever dirt he had. If the district needed a fall guy for something, chances were Huber would have a candidate or two.
   As he put his hand on the lock plate to his door, he felt a pair of hands sliding forward across his ribs. His pulse rate and blood pressure went up with the surge of adrenaline that came from being utterly surprised. He knew who it had to be, but that didn't change the natural reaction to the unexpected. She smelled nice in a faint, fresh sort of way.
   
   "You ready to go?" she asked from behind his left shoulder.
   "I have this thing I'm supposed to go to tonight but... I guess I could miss this one if you want."
   "No, I wanna go with you. I showed you mine. You show me yours."
   "Really? You want to spend the evening with a bunch of high school teachers trying not to make their boss hate them?"
   "Yeah. You drive."
   "Okay, I need a couple minutes to get ready. I'm guessing you can entertain yourself."
   She slid by him winking on her way into the living room. Woody heard, of all things, the stock channel from the bedroom as he hurried to get a shower. What the hell would posses this woman to actually ask to go to one of the dullest events anyone could waste a Friday night on? Clearly, she didn't need Woody's attendance or permission to see what went on here, she had proven that the day they met. So, did she just want the two of them to be seen together in public? Did that mean they were officially dating, or what? And what about when Huber saw them tog ether? Would he recognize her? Would he take Woody's evaluation of her report seriously it he knew they were dating or would he assume Woody was trying to get work for his girlfriend? He hadn't really figured any of it out by the time he got done showering, so he tried to concentrate on picking out some clothes that would go well with the black pants, black turtle neck, and brown suede jacket Bethany was wearing. She wouldn't exactly blend in with the other faculty, she was entirely too fit, but she wouldn't stick out either. Woody couldn't decide if she was smart or just cunning. Maybe she was both.
   She was already on her feet and turning off the vid when he came into the room. She didn't say anything except with that impish look. Woody felt a familiar feeling of excitement and tear, like he'd had as a kid when getting on the rides at Six Flags. She waited until he picked up his jacket before opening the door, punching in the alarm code without looking at the pad and stepping out into the hall, while Woody grabbed the door and followed. He felt a little twinge that she had her own code, but no surprise. They rode the elevator in silence. In the garage, Woody moved ahead even though he was sure she already knew where his car was and could easily beat him there. When he opened the door for her, her eyebrows lowered for half a footstep but she gracefully slid into the seat and even let him close the door. Woody fed anticipation for the evening ahead. Boy, were the other teachers going to be surprised.
   
   The quiet drive felt awkward to Woody, so he tried to make conversation. "So how is work going?"
   "Alright."
   "Got any tricky new assignments, you know, secret stuff?"
   She shrugged.
   "Oh, you probably couldn't tell me anyway, its just that I imagine your work has got to be a bout ten times more interesting than mine. I just stand in a class room all day trying to get kids to listen and learn, you know?"
   "No. I never went."
   "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean....."
   "No problem. I know."
   He felt like she did know what he meant and how he felt. That was one of the things that intrigued him about this woman. She picked up on the smallest clues and communicated so much without words. Most people went on and on never saying what they really meant but somehow getting the point across eventually. Or not Bethany always got right to the point. Bang. Like she meant it, or she wouldn't have bothered to speak.
   Woody decided that he liked that about her as he was pulling into Huber's driveway. It was always wise to arrive a little early and get your choice of parking spot if you thought you might want out before the thing actually wound down sometime around eleven. Woody figured Huber probably noticed who parked where, who left when, and kept it all in his mental file drawer for later. The house wasn't lavish, but it was pretty high end for a Principal's pay. Rumors went around every month a bout what nefarious things Huber might be doing to earn extra income, but nobody ever asked him to his face.
   Bethany politely waited for Woody to come around and get her door and she took his arm as they waked up to the house. Mrs. Huber met them at the door and greeted them both warmly. Nobody could figure how a guy like Emil Huber ended up with such a nice lady for a wife. Woody began introducing Bethany to the few others that were already there. She only spoke when directly questioned, shook hands politely, and often looked to Woody, letting him answer when people asked questions about how the two met. Woody never actually lied about it, but he did try to play up the idea that they had started their relationship through the martial arts rather than through contact at the school. That left the door open for Huber to take credit for giving work to Woody's girlfriend or disavowing any prior knowledge if that suited him better.
   
   The rest of the mixer went about like any cocktail party ever did. Woody and Bethany circulated together and then apart when the guys all wondered over to look at the new entertainment system the Huber's had just bought. Woody kept an eye on Bethany as much as he could, without looking like an over-jealous boyfriend. She didn't talk much in groups, but it didn't look like she was offending anyone with her silence. He managed to work his way back to her around nine, and by quarter to ten he was ready to leave. She didn't need more than a questioning glance from him to get the message and nod her agreement. They said all the obligatory good-byes and made their way out. When they got to the car, Woody was angered to find that Mr. Ransel, the physics teacher, had parked his diesel powered, boat sized, pollution chugging, ugly green piece of crap right behind them even though there was plenty of room. Nobody was parked behind Ransel, nobody ever parked behind Ransel since he tended to get a little drunk at these events. "Aww, dammit." Woody's evening had gone well up to this point and his unhappiness was showing. Bethany put a finger to his lips, gave a little upward nod with her head, and turned her attention to Ransel's car. She had the door open faster than Ransel ever did and was inside doing something under the dash. Woody was wondering where she kept her tools when the engine came to life. Bethany backed up and expertly drove the behemoth off the drive and into Huber's yard, squarely onto the peony bushes. The engine quit as she pulled something from under the dash and threw it into the sewer grate. She opened the glove box and fished out a bottle of liquor like she knew it was there. She opened the bottle, dropped it on the ground next to the car, and walked away from it leaving the door standing wide open. Woody stood amazed, "We're gonna get in trouble for that."
   "What, drunk boy?"
   "No, I was thinking more like Mr. Huber. I mean, it he has to help him to his car or something and finds out that he didn't do it leaving."
   "Never happen. Lets go"
   Woody opened the door for her again without really thinking about it. He waited until they were a few blocks away before starting up a conversation. He felt like a high school kid himself. "So what now? Do you need a ride home?"
   "No."
   "I didn't see your bike or truck at my place."
   "It's around."
   "Oh. So back to my place then?"
   "Yeah." She seemed more enthusiastic about it than he thought she would be just to drive home. Maybe there was more going on than he realized.
   "Are you in a hurry to get home?" he wondered.
   "No."
   "Do you want to come in for awhile, maybe talk a little? Or we could watch a movie or something."
   "Yeah," she had that impish look in her voice that time. Woody wasn't sure where this was going, but at least he didn't have to be up until ten the next morning for his eleven o'clock class at the dojo. Maybe she would meet him there and spend the day. The first class was younger kids and there wouldn't be much for her to do, but he still hoped she might hang around and talk to him between classes.
   "What are you doing tomorrow?"
   "Getting through it, it there is one."
   "What do you mean, 'if there is one'?"
   "Mica could call me back at anytime."
   "Who's Mica, and where would he call you to go?"
   "Did you know that your Industrial Tech teacher is having an affair with the girls P.E. instructor?" She said each of their titles much the same way they said it themselves.
   "What? How do you know?"
   "Tongue dancing in the kitchen."
   "You saw them making out in Huber's kitchen?"
   "No. Heard them. And your English teacher is hooked on dorphs. He reeks."
   "You can smell that? Wait a minute, it you're so good, how can Huber afford that house on what he makes?"
   "His wife made some good investments with her porn pay twelve years ago."
   "What? What the hell? Are you telling me Huber's wife used to be a porn star? How did you find that out?"
   "Not a star. A director. I look. I Listen. It keeps me dead."
   "What?" Woody was trying to make sense of all the new information and park in his numbered spot at the same time. It was only partly working. When the car stopped moving forward, hitting the tire blocks, Woody opened his mouth to ask one of the fifty or so questions bubbling in his head, only to find Bethany's mouth covering his in a passionate, if awkward, kiss.
   When she finally let him up for air she opened the car door, said, "Worry doesn't fix stuff," and got out Woody scrambled to secure the car and follow her. His face worked through just about every contused, puzzled look a human can make several times during the ride upstairs. She led the way to his apartment, palmed the lock, looked back at Woody when the door opened, and asked, "Mind?" Woody shook his head while his face was clearly still trying to figure out which question would make it to the surface first.
   "No, but I have a few questions." Bethany didn't let him ask them. She dragged him into the living room with both hands while shutting the door with her foot Woody made a feeble attempt to activate the lights but she pushed him back, tripping him, and rode him onto the sofa. Woody fell back hard, but his head never hit the wall. Bethany had her hand behind his head and her mouth on his before he landed. She kissed him with a passion and intensity that Woody found thrilling and a little frightening, while her other hand pulled his shirt out and up over his chest. Woody recovered enough to put his hands on her hips, but was afraid to do more. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and then tore the buttons out of his shirt with one yank. Woody breathed deeper as she kissed his chest and stomach. As she worked her way up his neck and to his ear, she wriggled her hips firmly onto his. Woody slid his hands up her ribs, getting braver. She slid out of her jacket and put his hands on the bottom edge of her shirt, tugged up slightly, and let go. Woody got the message and carefully pulled her turtleneck up over her head as she raised her arms. She took the shirt from his hands and threw it away.
   Woody ran his hands down her back encountering no fabric until he hit the waist of her pants. There were several odd bumps on her ribs and he began to explore them with his hands, unable to see in the darkness even if he were to lean around her. Bethany bit his lip hard enough to distract him then took his hands and put both his index fingers into the front of her pants. Woody noticed the tone of her muscles and the warmth of her skin as he deciphered the fastener. He pushed his hands down her backside into her pant and encountered no underwear there either. He realized that he'd spent the evening with her and not known he was this close to her naked skin. She kept her mouth on his as she stood long enough to shed her shoes and slip the rest of the way out other pants. Before woody could move, she was back on of him. She put her hands in between the two of them and expertly unfastened his pants. Woody caught his breath as she put her hands on his thighs and lilted her hips toward his ribs and slid his pants past his knees. He only had to lift up a tiny bit to help, and then her weight was back on his lap. She put her hands down between them and used one on herself and the other to excite him. It didn't take long. Woody kept his hands on her hips, that seemed safe so far. He had no illusions about who was in charge of the situation. He had no complaints either. When they were both ready, she lowered herself onto him. Woody just held on and accepted her pace. She lowered her forehead to his as both their breathing hastened and deepened. Woody slid his hands up her back and encountered those odd spots again. She took his hands in hers and pinned them to the wall behind his head. Woody wondered briefly what they were, but quickly lost that thought in the heat that was growing between them. As it she could read his mind, she changed pace and position to bring him to climax. After his heart rate had peaked and had begun to lower, he realized that she hadn't come with him. She bucked him gently with her hips a few times more and then stilled.
   "So now what?" she asked.
   "What about you?" he returned.
   "Should I go?" She made a motion at the door he felt more than saw.
   "No. No, I don't want you to leave. I don't understand. Why would you leave? I want to make you feel as good as I do."
   She shook her head, slid her arms around his neck, put her cheek to his, and rested her head on his shoulder. Woody felt a tear slide down his neck. He put his arms around her, careful not to touch any of the scars on her skin. "What's wrong?" She pulled away, got up, and started putting her clothes on. Woody got up and wrestled with his pants. Unable to make sense of them he settled for holding them up with one hand so he could walk after her.
   "No. Wait Please. Please wait," he struggled for the right words. Bethany seemed calm and collected, she hadn't sniffed or sobbed, but he was still sure that something was wrong. Woody felt like someone had taken a pair of pliers to his heart. "Please, I want to understand."
   She finished donning her clothes and opened the door, letting light spill in from the hall leaving her in silhouette.
   "I'll........I'll be back," she said as she stepped out and closed the door. Woody paused for several moments trying to figure out what was going on before he realized the absurdity of standing in his own darkened living room holding his pants up with his hand. He couldn't even follow her, not that he thought she'd linger in the hall.
   
   
   
   Chapter Eight
   
   The large, run-flat tires crunched as they rolled across the debris and cracked concrete that was what remained of a supermarket parking lot. The store had burned completely to the ground years before and no one had ever built anything there again. The company that had owned it had lost all five of their stores in one week and had never recovered. That was the only job she had worked with Torch. He had wanted more than just a working relationship, and for awhile, she thought she did too. But the personal part of it had felt too much like work for her to stay. Torch had been cool about it but he never let her forget it either. She didn't really blame him, but she never went back to him that way.
   She let the engine run while staring out the windshield at the blackened patch of ground and the rubble that had once been a place where people worked, shopped, lived, and died. In many ways she had come so far since then. She never killed anyone recklessly any more. She had learned so much since that frantic, painful time, so how could she still be so afraid to let people near her heart? And what about Woody? He wasn't like the rest, he was regular people. He cared. He didn't know about all the bad stuff, but he also didn't understand. Maybe that was part of the problem. Did he need to know? Would he understand? Was he just too different? What did he want from her anyway? Was he just another trial sent by Mica to test her resolve? What was the way to win this situation? Should she go through it or around it? She could feel herself getting frustrated with the whole thing, and it was never a good thing when she got frustrated. She put the Kampfwagen in gear and backed out of the lot. She knew a place where people went to fight and to watch others fight She could always go there and work out her feelings on a willing victim. Someone would always overestimate their own abilities, even if the others warned them. It felt good to prove them painfully wrong, and leave them alive to think about it. If it had been work, she could never afford to leave a living witness. She'd learned that lesson the hard way. As she drove, she let her mind roll through the litany of every injury and what it had taught her. There hadn't been so many, but there had been enough. What was she thinking, trying to live on the light side, in with the regular people?
   
   Saturday morning dawned slowly for Woody. He had had trouble getting to sleep and woke later than usual. But he was awake in plenty of time to get to the dojo, so that left him with enough time to lay in bed and try to figure out what the hell had happened the night before. Bethany had actually volunteered to go to the mixer. And she always changed the subject when he asked anything about her. And what about the intense but brief interlude on the couch, when she took all the initiative and then left without any satisfaction for herself. What was the woman trying to prove? Woody spent about an hour trying to reconcile what he thought with what he felt before he had to get up and go pretend like it was just another weekend. He resolved to contact her and leave a message, but he kept running himself too late to actually have to go through with it until that evening.
   After his last class had left the dojo, Woody ordered some food and took care of the monthly billing while he ate. Finally, with all his distractions removed, he was forced to face the promise he'd made earlier. He fidgeted about for several minutes before he punched up the number on Bethany's card. An automated system answered and demanded a customer number be entered. Woody didn't have one and didn't know the one the school district had so he hung up. After a few minutes of relief, he vowed to try again. He sent the call again and tried the name of the school building to no avail. The machine hung up on him this time. He might be able to get the school's number, but not until Monday. Not ready to admit defeat, but not knowing anything else to do, he finally closed up the dojo and headed home. Perhaps he'd download a new release movie to distract himself from all the things he was feeling that he didn't understand. Somewhere during the drive it occurred to him there must be a way for new clients to get in touch with her even without a number. He tried to remember what the screen looked like as he pulled into the garage and rode the elevator. He thought he had figured out what to do about the time he palmed open the door and a hand shot out of the darkness to grab him by the sweatshirt. He managed to hang onto his gym bag as he was forcibly dragged into his own living room. The door shut at the same time arms went around his torso and lips met his. The kiss was passionate but brief. Bethany slid her cheek to his and squeezed his ribs a bit. Her lips found his ear.
   "Sorry."
   "For.......for what?" Woody pondered.
   "For running off."
   "Did I do something wrong?"
   "No. I did."
   "I don't think what we did was wrong. I mean, if two people who feel som..e..t..hh" She squeezed his ribs hard enough to s him from taking, then loosened again.
   "Shut up." She nestled her head against his neck. Woody put his arms around her and tried to figure out what he'd missed. He realized that he had no idea what he was doing or where this might be going, but it felt good. It felt right. He put his face to her hair and kissed her head several times. He didn't know what else to do, so he just held her, moved his hands occasionally and tried to radiate whatever kind of good vibes he could. Finally she raised her head so that her mouth was near his ear again.
   "If this goes, you'll have to know."
   "Know what?"
   "Stuff. Bad stuff."
   Woody was intrigued and a little worried. "Like what?"
   "I've killed or wounded three hundred eighteen people, I've sold myself for money, I leave death and destruction in my wake, and I don't think I'd know what real love was even if you told me."
   "I.....uh......I....holy shit.....I don't know what to say.
   Okay, let me see........why, why, I don't believe that, and don't give up just yet I wanna understand. I want to help. What can I do?"
   "Why?"
   "Why, what?"
   "Why do you want to help? What's in it for you?"
   "The chance to be with you."
   "That's stupid. You wanna feel big, so you hook onto me, is that it?"
   "No. No, I don't want anything from you except what you want to give away. Can we turn on the lights?" He felt her shake her head. "Should we sit down?" She shook her head.
   "What's that mean? Like last night? You only want that?"
   "No. You know what a gift is?"
   "You mean like a skill or a thing you give up?"
   "Like a thing you give up. Without any conditions or strings attached. I want to give things to you, with out you having to give anything back unless you feel like you want to. I don't want you to owe me anything."
   "What have you got that I want?"
   "How about understanding? Or maybe companionship? Or truth? Or trust? Or maybe even love? How a bout those?"
   "You think so? What have I got that you'd want?"
   "How about the same things, only in your own way."
   
   "I never learned about any of that shit. You have to teach me. So what can I do for you in the mean time? Sex? Drugs? Need anybody dead?"
   "NO. You wanna know what you can do for me? Can you s killing people?"
   "I suppose so, if it means that much to you." She sounded like that impish look must be on her face again.
   Woody really wished he could see something more than shapes. "Hey, just how well can you see in the dark, anyway?"
   "Wanna see?" She took his gym bag and threw it on the couch. She took his hand and led him toward the door. "Let's go for a ride." Woody followed.
   In the hallway, Woody noticed that she was dressed pretty much the same way she had been the first day they met at the school, but some how she looked so much better this time. She took him down the elevator and out front where her armored car, or whatever it was, was parked on the street. She drove like a regular person, with the flow of traffic all the way down to the area around the Zone. Woody was a little nervous, but he figured if she grew up inside the zone, there couldn't be too much out side it that would threaten her. She drove around the area for a while as if she were looking for something not found. Finally she turned down some deserted street that was really more of an alley and pulled to a halt in front of an unfriendly chain link and razor wire gate. Woody remained quiet to see what happened, and Bethany spoke a few soft words. The gate rolled open and they drove in only to s at another gate. She reached out and it opened after her fingers danced across a pad mounted on a steel column. They rolled into the large, dark building as its door opened automatically. It dosed behind them and Woody felt a bit worried since he couldn't see more than rough shapes again. She came around his side of the truck and led him across the floor into an elevator. She held his hand during the short ride and then led him across the room.
   "Wait a sec." It sounded like she was opening boxes or doors and looking for something. She moved near and told him, "Hold still." She put something on his head that covered most of his face and did something to turn it on. Woody flinched a little. He was almost suffering from sensory overload with all the bizarre things he was seeing. There were multiple images in odd color schemes overlaid on each other to the point that he could barely make out the shape of Bethany standing in front of him. He put his hands up and reached cautiously for her shoulders.
   "You get used to it after a while." She reached up and did something to the mask and all the colors went away except for the green one. It looked like daylight through green plastic to Woody. "Light amp," she told him before switching again. As he got used to the inverted reddish look she said, "Infrared." Click, this one was a strange dark, blue-purple. "Ultraviolet." Click, just grey tones this time, but not like old movies. "Thermo, white cold." Click, pause, the whole thing was back. "Full spectrum. I have a zoom feature and an integrated target system that this old hunk doesn't, but that's pretty much what it looks like."
   "Son of a.......how do you walk around looking at the world this way? Doesn't it drive you nuts?"
   "No. I'd feel naked if I had to go back."
   "So, can you see through walls or What?"
   "I wish. There's a thing for that, but it's like this big," she held her hands up, "and they don't make an implant bigger than your head. Where would you put it?"
   Woody's eyes were really starting to water. "Can we turn the lights on now?"
   She took the mask off him and flipped a switch on the post. About a quarter of the overhead light figures came struggling to life. It wasn't much, but it was better than standing around in the dark. Woody looked around. The place looked like some kind of Marine training center or something. He recognized the motorcycle near the elevator, but the rest of the equipment was largely foreign to him. He could guess at the purpose of some of it, but it was all stuff he'd never seen before. "Is this home?"
   "Not really. It's just where I keep stuff. In my work, homes are dangerous."
   "So where do you live?"
   "Wherever I want to. You have to keep moving to keep moving."
   "So, about the other night."
   "Yeah? What about it?"
   "Well, I don't know, I just wish it could've been good for you too."
   "Whatever. Why d'you care?"
   "Because I really like you, and I don't want to be the kind of guy who takes without ever giving back. It's supposed to be the kind of thing that two people share, not just take, isn't it?"
   "How would I know?"
   "I'm sorry. I just meant.....I just wanted you to.......Do you think you could get to a place where you could feel the way you made me feel? I mean the good part, not the selfish part."
   "Maybe. Will you help?"
   "Yeah, I'd be honored." He reached out and put his arms around her. She stood still for a moment but finally leaned against him after he gave a few gentle tugs.
   
   
   Chapter Nine
   
   Motor sat behind his desk watching the three dimensional holographic representation of his head with the surgically altered features slowly rotate. He gently tapped the button on his console each rotation making himself look more Asian each time. He had no real desire to actually look Asian, he was just lacking anything more stimulating. It had been six hours and thirty seven minutes since any earthshaking decision had been presented to him and that was just a plea for funding in a minor division to follow up on some cutting edge toe nail research or something. Victor vaguely remembered approving it. He punched another button and the head vanished. With just a few more taps he had the entire funding overview in the air before him. He kept trying different graphic representations looking for peaks and valleys. It was only a few minutes before he found what he was looking for. He promptly dashed out an order to Accounting for a full audit of three different projects under the same department head. These people seemed to think they could slide things by him. He wondered just who they thought they were dealing with.
   
   Victor still wasn't satisfied. It hadn't actually occurred to him to winder just how long it had been since he'd felt truly satisfied about anything. It would have been a struggle to remember. He punched for his direct link to Rausch's office. It was set to activate without Rausch having to answer. Victor was the one person the security chief couldn't keep secrets from. Rausch was at his desk and looked into the pickup a few seconds after it activated. He'd become unreasonably attentive to the thing ever since his promotion.
   "Yes, Sir." He'd also learned not to waste time with social pleasantries. It just made things worse.
   "I just sent an audit order to Accounting. I'm concerned about Mr. Ying's loyalty to the company and his lack of concern for the stockholders. Keep an eye on him."
   "Yes, Sir." This was the fourth time Victor had singled someone out, put the heat on them and had Rausch go after them the minute they started to squirm. After all, they wouldn't be worried if they hadn't done anything, right? It was a singular skill of Victor's to ferret out those who could be influenced by a little undeserved scrutiny. Victor felt it to be his duty to squeeze these weaklings out before they could do any real damage.
   "And what about that other Important matter?"
   "It's still getting priority, Sir."
   "Do you even know what I'm talking about?" Victor demanded.
   "Yes, Sir. The investigation into the factors behind the Lake Hotel incident concerning the PurStik case." Did he really think his own security people were that stupid or uninformed?
   "Well, what have you got to report?" Victor demanded
   Rausch resisted the temptation to tell the self-absorbed gas bag that if he had any new developments, the first thing he'd do is make sure the vulture knew about it. "The word is out to our sources in those areas, capitol and assets are doing what they do best. I'm sure there will be some news on the operative in question. You'll know the same second I do, Sir"
   "Make sure I do." Victor jabbed the call into non-existence.
   Victor thought briefly about getting out of the office early to day, but discarded the idea immediately. Who knew what would go wrong next. Lawsuits were a part of the business, but things had gotten complicated in the last decade or so. The sharks in suits had always been pretty ruthless about winning, but there was always a line that you couldn't cross without it coming back to bite you in the ass. Criminals and thugs couldn't be trusted to do a job and keep quiet about it. Look at all the famous mobsters like John Gotti who'd been taken down by people that were practically family. And strangers were a waste of time when it came to anything delicate. And then they had shown up on the scene. They were euphemistically called "operatives", "discretionary assets", sometimes they called themselves "Micans" he was told, but the term that stuck in the community that hired them to do the things others couldn't or wouldn't was "Darklings". Nobody knew who they really were, where they came from, or even how they did some of the things they did. You never talked directly, there were always a series of drops and cut-outs that had stymied all ill-advised attempts to pierce the veil so far. You could always tell when inquiries got dose though because people started to disappear. But those attempts hadn't been backed by Victor Santra. He punched up SatNews and watched a small crowd of protesters who'd had their faces surgically altered to look like big cats complain about discrimination against Artistically Modified Persons. Freaks.
   
   Rausch sat in his office struggling thorough the sheer volume of information for which he had become the nexus. He was looking at the ballistics reports from the Lake Hotel mess. He didn't need these reports and their careful omission of information to know who had pulled the trigger on Roberts. It was dearly not the assassin. All of his rounds had hit their targets, in fad 85% of them had been head shots. It was easy to tell the difference since the protective detail had all been issued 45s and the Darkling had used 5.7 x 28mm steel tipped, aluminum core, full jacketed rounds, unique to just two or three weapons. These particular bullets would penetrate 40 layers of Kevlar at 200 meters. They weren't designed for hunting deer. It was dear from weapon choice and the carefully planned and prepared escape route that this guy knew what he was about. That was bad for Denton Rausch. He was likely chasing a ghost, people who were this thorough wouldn't leave any kind of trail you could follow. Not and live. He'd learned in the desert that often those tracks you were following lead right over a land mine. What could he trust here? He had no blood or fiber evidence to go on. About the only thing he could be confident in was the relative size of this assassin. The path through the heating plant could only be passed by a person of no more than 1.7 meters. The investigative team had tried it with half a dozen different gymnasts and escape artists. And it wasn't likely that the person he was looking for was much smaller either. The rest of the route was prepared ahead, but cutting through the filters must have been done as he went through. The Hotel computer noticed the airflow irregularities and reported them within half an hour. And it stood to reason if you were in a hurry you would spend the extra time cutting a hole much bigger than you needed just as a decoy. Great, so he was looking for an average sized person who had access to burglary gear and uncommon guns and ammo. That really narrowed the field.
   Perhaps there was some other way to go after this guy, outside the usual channels. Grunt work and petty bribes weren't going to get this job done. He was up against somebody who had more practice at not being found than he had expertise at finding people. Rausch thought he might know a man who could put him on the right path for the right price. He punched up the audit order Victor had just issued, then he punched up one of the console cowboys under his command. The guy was an AMP with silver skin and wire for hair which meant he could only go so high in this kind of company, but he was good at getting into things and out with out leaving digital footprints.
   The screen showed an expressionless metallic face. "What's goin' Doc?"
   "Meet me for lunch at the stand 3 blocks west. I have something special for you."
   Rausch had already figured out where to get the money. Ying was going to get fired anyway.
   
   
   Chapter Ten
   
   Woody awoke to the sounds of the television and somebody clattering around in the kitchen. The night before was kind of a blur, but he was pretty sure Bethany had actually enjoyed herself at least once. He took a moment to decide if he should just lay here until he found out what she was up to or go see for himself. He decided that if she'd meant to be quiet he would still be asleep. He climbed out of bed and put on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He vaguely remembered owning a robe, but damned if he knew where it was right now, some drawer or the closet most likely.
   He walked quietly through the apartment, the carpet felt good to his bare feet. As he rounded the kitchen doorway, she spoke without looking up from whatever she was nuking in the microwave. She was wearing one of his shirts.
   "Does it always take you that long to get out of bed?"
   "I just woke up. Give me a minute to get my head back."
   "You woke up six minutes ago."
   "What, were you in there watching me sleep?"
   She responded by touching her finger to her ear.
   "You can hear that veil?" he wondered.
   "I can hear your neighbors trying to decide if they should go to the Field Museum or the Aquarium first. They both sound pretty dull. What's all the fuss over? Just tucking pick one." She opened the cabinet next to the fridge and yelled into it, "You hear that? Just lucking pick one!" Woody winced ever so slightly.
   "Did they hear that?"
   "Sounds like. They're whispering about nosey neighbors now. And they're wondering what else we can hear and why they don't hear us more clearly. I guess they forgot about the Museum. No due." Woody wasn't sure if he liked the contempt in her voice. He wondered if she thought about him the same way.
   She turned and kissed him fast enough that he flinched a little. "Would I be here if I thought you were as stupid as that?"
   "How do you do that? How do you know what I'm thinking before I do?"
   "You're pretty easy to read. Your thoughts leak out of your face and hands. Never try to lie to anyone who holds power over you. Except maybe that jerk you work for. The woman is the smart one of that pair. He couldn't find his own ass if you cut it off and handed it to him."
   Woody thought the visual was a bit violent, but basically accurate. He wondered what it was about Bethany that made her so much more attractive to him than any other woman he'd known.
   She stuffed a forkful of something yellow from the nukebox into his open mouth and spoke while he decided it was supposed to be eggs. "So what do we do today?"
   He swallowed. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
   "What would you normally do today?"
   "Well, my normal day would be pretty dull, I imagine. I'd grade some papers, watch some vid, and maybe go to the dojo and work out for a while. But I don't know if I could take another work-out with you."
   "You did okay last night."
   "That's not what I meant. The last time, at the studio, I was worried that-" she stuffed another forkful into his open mouth.
   "Don't." Her expression flowed briefly through something serious and deep, then back to her usual bright-eyed, playful facade. "I know. Let's go to the House of Dead Tech." Woody looked puzzled and tried to talk around his food until she put her hand lightly over his mouth. "You'd call it the Museum of Science and Industry. I was only there once for a little while, but it might be fun to see it all when there are people in it."
   They took a leisurely shower together that didn't turn into anything sexual. It was steamy and passionate in a way that sex could never be. They washed each other's bodies more than once and, it seemed in some way, began to wash each other's souls. She let him see and touch all of her scars even though she was afraid. He memorized them all but didn't ask about them. Her expressions and posture told him enough about how painful each had been. By the time they turned the water off, she had moved a long way towards trusting him and he found that he respected her even m ore for her weaknesses than he already did for her strengths.
   They got dressed together quietly. He put on some comfortable pants and a sweater that he thought made him look handsome. She put on the same clothes she was wearing before, but added one of his ties to the outfit. His favorite tie.
   "You're gonna keep that, aren't you." It wasn't really a question. She nodded and smiled the faintest smile he'd seen on her face since he'd met her.
   They took his car to the museum and had to park farther out because they hadn't gotten there early, but neither of them seemed to mind the walk in. As they went up the steps, Woody slid his hand around hers and she didn't pull away until they went through the doors. Inside, she put her hands into her pockets and Woody's first thought was that she had done it to keep him from holding her hand again, but then it dawned on him that it might be because she was afraid she might reach for him. That thought made him feel good and bad at the same time.
   They wandered around looking at displays and the other visitors for almost two hours. She seemed to be leading, but he didn't mind at all. Watching her examine and absorb the information presented and then randomly drift to whatever caught her eye next, made him feel like gravity might be ready to lose its grip on him. He was intrigued by her reactions to things, now that he was learning to read them. He was sure the display on human artificial replacement prosthesis and 'Where Medical Science Might Lead Us Tomorrow' brought a look of genuine amusement to her lips, cheeks, and eyes.
   They eventually came around to the main hall and Woody thought they would go out the main doors, but found himself being gently steered into a side hall exhibit. Bethany stopped just a few meters out of the hall and turned to him, "Meet me back in the big room in a minute."
   
   Woody didn't hesitate or ask questions. Something in her manner told him this was serious. He turned back and nonchalantly wandered back the way they had just come. He knew if he looked over his shoulder she would be gone. So he meandered around taking deep, slow breaths to see if he could spot her before she got next to him. He was trying not to be too obvious but still be thorough. He spotted a guy against the wall near the door who looked a little out of place. The guy wasn't dressed like the other people in here and he was just parked over there scanning back and forth like his head was a security camera. Woody didn't stare, but he kept checking on the guy trying to figure out what was up. He caught sight of Bethany coming in the front door closest to the guy. Screw it if he got caught staring, but he wasn't going to miss this. It looked like she was using the doorway to keep from being seen until the last moment. He thought she would spring on the guy, but she just slid up to him as if she were his girlfriend. She put her hands on his ribs and her mouth to his ear. The guy's face was the closest thing a human could make to the one cartoon characters have right before they get hit by a train. Woody knew how he felt and was proud that he'd kept his composure and not made a face like this guy. It was almost funny to look at. Bethany backed a step away from the guy and he ran out the doors pushing people out of his way. She turned and came over to Woody with a concerned look on her face.
   "What's up?"
   "I promised you I wouldn't kill anybody, but I should have killed that one."
   "Why? Who was he?"
   "Just a gargoyle wanna-be. They don't have the spine for real work, so they just watch and hope to catch something worth selling. We should have mashed them all like the bugs they are long ago. Is it okay if I get somebody else to kill him?"
   "I don't know. Can I think about it?"
   "You can just say no. Are you that scared?"
   Woody shook his head, leaned in, and kissed her. He didn't think she'd let him right here in public, but she kissed him back deeply, and long enough that people took note.
   On the drive home Woody couldn't quite pin down what had happened with the strange man. "If you had just walked on by, what would that guy know?"
   "He'd spot m e the same way I saw him. Infrared, thermal, low pulse and breath."
   "Is it dangerous for you to be in a museum?"
   "Depends. He has to think I'm on a job there, so now he's gotta find out what it could be. That causes ripples. You never know where those end up. Better to be sure. Better not to make ripples in the first place."
   "Would it help if I said you could kill just this one?"
   "Uh, un. It's been too long now He's already got his nasty little nose in it. Just have to ride this wave."
   "Together. Whatever happens, we go through it together." He held out his hand. She took it though she was less confident than he was. She put on a quick smile before he noticed. He didn't really get what her life was like...before. Maybe she'd have to fill him in. She hoped he would still want her around after.
   
   
   Chapter Eleven
   
   Woody got home from school at his usual time. He wondered where Bethany went the rest of the time. Did she really live in that warehouse, or did she have some other, secret place? He wondered why it never occurred to him when he was with her to ask if there was a way he could get in touch with her when he wanted to, instead of just having to wait until she came to him. He didn't really mind that she hadn't stayed the night. He was already beginning to realize how flat his life would feel if she were gone from it, but it was okay to have a little time apart now and then. She was just so intense all the time. Even when she was kidding around, he got the sense that there were some very dark things down below that.
   He was trying to decide how to spend his evening as he reached for the lock. The door opened before he touched it.
   "You knew it was me when I got off the elevator, didn't you?" She nodded. "You understand that I can't do that, right?" She nodded. "Could you try to startle the life out of me a little less often, please?" She nodded again and kissed him. This kiss was different from the others. It was almost tender, with maybe a hint of hesitation. Woody tossed his briefcase inside and put his arms around her. She managed to surprise him at every turn. It was as if she was always just half a step ahead of him. Is everything okay?"
   She put her lips to his ear and replied in the faintest whisper he could still hear, I think it will be." They stood in a warm, quiet embrace for a moment before she spoke again, in a normal voice. "There's food." She gestured towards the kitchen with her thumb. Woody took his cue and went to see what she'd made. She dosed the door and put his briefcase over by the table where he would have put it any other time.
   She stood in the kitchen doorway as Woody took a bite of the Thai take-out she had set out for him. "This is good," he mumbled around a mouthful. He held up the plate to offer her some, but she just shook her head and smiled faintly. He ate the rest while she watched. That was awkward for him, but what the hell, he'd been trying lots of new things lately. He rinsed off the plate when he was done and turned to see what was next. She was looking at the floor. That was new Concern crept onto his face. "What's up?"
   She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I have.....stuff."
   "What kind of stuff?"
   "Bad stuff." She looked up. Her face was calm, but her eyes were scared. "But you have to know, or it's all just a lie."
   Woody could feel his pulse picking up a few extra beats. "Well, where do we start?"
   "At the beginning, I guess." She held her hand out and let him reach up and take it. They held hands all the way to his car. She stopped short and gave him a brief but fierce hug. "Is it okay if I drive?"
   "Sure." He couldn't figure out why she was even asking. He got in the passenger side and watched as she expertly and calmly maneuvered them out into traffic. He noticed that the mirrors and the seat were already adjusted for her. He waited a while longer before saying anything at all. He decided to change the subject, whatever was coming would be here soon enough.
   "Hey, I was thinking this morning. Should we be using some kind of protection...birth control....something?"
   "It's covered. I have so much no-no-tech in me I can't go near an airport."
   "You mean nano-tech?"
   "Yeah, that too. You can't drug or poison me. Hardly any diseases. I can't get pregnant without a special enzyme. I am a hard-wired, wet-worked, killing machine." Her index finger just barely touched the tip of his nose before he even began to flinch back. Her head never turned. She put her hand back on the wheel. Woody had a feeling this night was going to get a lot darker before he saw daylight again.
   They drove on in silence for a while. Woody didn't notice that they were heading, in a round-about way, towards her warehouse. He was too busy inside his own head trying to figure out how all this could tit into the carefully crafted image of the world he used to have. Maybe he was about to get a new one. He felt like he had walked down the hallway and opened his apartment door only to find himself faced with stars and the endless blackness of space. It was an entrancing view, but dangerous. Then somebody pushed him. Now he felt like there was no up or down, no forward or backward. He sifted through all the things he knew and might soon know. None of it made sense. Then he began to realize there was one thing that did make sense. There was one thing he was sure of. He was sure about her. He'd read his share of fiction and poetry, and always thought the romance of those stories was an exaggerated ideal, artistic license. But it really felt like this woman had the other half of his soul. Aid that scared him more than anything they might do or see tonight.
   As she pulled his car to a s inside the darkened building, he turned to her and opened his mouth to say.....something. She looked into his eyes, "No. After. If you still feel that way after, you can say it." She got out of the car. Woody got out and left the door open. He hurried around the car and got in front of her, almost daring her to hurt him. She didn't, so he put his palms on her cheeks and kissed her as if it were their first and last kiss all at once. She let him, then pulled away and led the way to the elevator. He stepped back and shut the car door with his foot before following her.
   They rode the elevator up without speaking, but they were still communicating through body language and breath. Neither one seemed to be willing to hear what the other had to say, so they finally made a silent agreement to let it drop for now. When they got off the elevator, she flipped on the lights and this time they all lit. She pointed to a tall chair by the workbench, "Sit." He did.
   He was just staring in a random direction trying to form the right combination of words into sentences that would make her understand all the things he knew he had to tell her just in case he didn't get another chance. It was the most important thing on his mind. It was the only important thing in his life.
   She used his chin to turn his head. "Close your eyes." As his eyelids lowered, he saw her bringing whatever she had in her other hand toward his face. He wasn't worried. He felt her doing something to his face and them rubbing something into his hair, but he kept his eyes closed the whole time. It gave him a chance to try collecting his thoughts.
   "It'll do." She squeezed his shoulder lightly. He let his eyes re-adjust to the fluorescent glare while she changed clothes. She was putting on an out tit that was a lot like her motorcycle suit, but different. It had more padded parts and it looked like they had arm or plates over most of them. He noticed several places that looked like they had been patched with some kind of thermoplastic adhesive. He realized that those patches had corresponding scars underneath them. She had more scars than the suit did and it made his heart hurt when he realized it.
   She came over and put her lips to his ear, "Don't be sad." She looked at him with questioning eyes and a slight smile. She saw him come up for air. "Go look in the mirror while I find you some gear." She turned away and he got off the chair and began wandering around looking for a reflective surface. He found a small, dingy rest-room in the far comer. The light worked and there was enough of the mirror left to see his face. She had given his whole face a gold tint and then put two vertical red lines each about the width of a linger from his forehead to his chin, centering each on an eye. He closed one eye and found the lines ran across the lids. The stuff in his hair made it kind of spikey but leaning back like it were wind blown.
   She came in the open door, dropped an arm load on the floor, and started taking off his clothes. He let her. He didn't start helping until she started putting things on him. It was all dark and strange but it felt okay; pants with armored knees, black t-shirt covered by an armored vest that held two carbon fiber knives and a hand gun across the lower back, SWAT team type shoes, reinforced gloves, a knee length coat whose weight let him know it was armored better than the rest, and a pair of old sunglasses to complete the look. She stepped back and held her hand up. "Kick." He did and found himself surprised at the freedom of movement he had. "You ever use those?"
   "I can work with knives. I've fired a few guns, but I haven't really practiced."
   She stepped back out of the rest-room. "Take a few shots to be sure."
   She went over to the work bench and began to arm herself while he figured out the makeshift shooting range and the gun he was now wearing. He gave it all a second look before he held the pistol up in both hands the way he'd been taught. He pushed the shades up his forehead and resumed his grip. He sighted and squeezed the trigger. He was a better shot than he remembered and the gun was sighted in for this range. It did leave his ears ringing.
   "Got any muffs or plugs?" He kept both hands on the gun and pointed it at the floor as he turned around. She was right there.
   
   "No." She put her linger to her ear. "I have auto dampening. I also have high and low frequency, amplification, and range isolation. Sorry, you can't wear ear plugs where we're going. Just try not to look surprised by anything. I'll let you know where it's okay to talk and who it's okay to talk to. Don't be rude and it'll be okay."
   "Rude? I don't want to get us killed."
   "Oh, you won't. But you might make me break my promise." She broke a small ampoule between her linger and thumb and rubbed the contents onto all her fingertips. She pushed her hands back through her hair several times and then grasped her ponytail and gently pulled. Her hair slid off leaving a silver brush-cut behind that looked a bit like those old fiber optic lamps only shorter.
   Woody liked her long brown hair and he wasn't sure about this new look. Then her face changed. It suddenly looked like somebody had tattooed broken glass onto her skin. She turned to go. "Wait." She stopped. He touched her cheek but couldn't feel the lines that he saw there. He kissed her very lightly on the lips and whispered, "You're still you." She gave a faint nod and turned away.
   
   
   Chapter Twelve
   
   They took her truck until they were just a few blocks from the Zone, then walked closer still. He knew where they were, but you couldn't actually see the walls from here. She took a small tool from under her coat and used it to pull up a man-hole cover. As she descended into the darkness she nodded at the cover, "Get that." He followed her down the ladder and stopped to slide the cover back. He kept one hand on the rung and managed to get the lid back with the other. It was heavier than it had looked.
   They followed the sewers for a while. It was big enough that he didn't have to crawl, quite. He found that if he rested his elbows on his knees and kind of waddled he could move along all right. He made a point of not hitting his head. She stopped and did something to the wall. A section overhead, about a third of the circumference, pulled up and slid out of the way. She climbed up through and he followed. The passage went over the side of the tube they were just in and went down. At the bottom of that ladder, they were in another tunnel that was made differently than the sewer pipe. The concrete looked like it had been sprayed as the space had been dug, but it was taller and had a reasonably flat floor. They followed it to another ladder going up. Another concealed door let them into the basement of some building. Woody could hear voices from above. There was enough light getting under the door at the of the nearby stairs that he could see fairly well.
   The stairs went up to a door that let them into a dim hallway. To the left there was a door that looked like it opened on the outside. To the right, Woody was surprised to see...a bar. A tavern. People sitting around drinking and talking. It was lit with candles and oil lamps, but it was just like any neighborhood dive otherwise. She was moving that way, so he followed. Some people looked up, some didn't, but no one stared. They looked about like any other bar crowd, only more ...worn. Tired. Less dean. Less healthy, maybe. But other wise, pretty normal. Woody had ejected some post-apocalyptic nightmare, not this. He hoped he looked more confident than he felt. Bethany was making right for the bar, so he directed his attention that way. He could see the grey haired man behind the counter trying manfully to keep the smile off his face. Bethany shook the old man's hand. "We're looking around. We'll be in later. Any of the old crowd still come here?"
   The man answered with a smile. "Yeah, all 'cept Toady Joe. Died in his bed last week. Good to see you again."
   She led the way out the front door. They wandered around without speaking for several hours. She didn't say anything, or point out interesting things, but he caught on quickly. She led him past places where people bartered for goods and food. She made sure he got to see that every roof was a garden and a rain collector. She let him see that nothing went to waste. Things that couldn't be eaten could be used for fertilizer. Things that couldn't be used as one kind of tool could be downgraded to some other kind of use. The people here were experts at re-using and repairing things that Woody" s neighbors would just throw away without a thought.
   They saw a guy with a metal framework a lot like the walkers that elderly people used, only it was big enough he could stand inside it. It was roofed with something that looked like a construction zone road sign. There were metal placards wired to the sides that were crudely hand lettered with the phrase. "The Skies Have Eyes". Woody was sort of relieved that there were some crazy people in here. Then he wondered; what if the guy wasn't crazy after all?
   They went near a neighborhood that had been walled off with dead cars and rubble. Woody could see through the barrier a bit and saw feral man chewing on a human leg. He winced and focused on where he was putting his feet.
   The tour was depressing, make no mistake, but it gave him a strange feeling of warmth. Most of the people here still retained some sense of community and, in spite of it all, some hope for their future. He had seen a few kids placing some game in the street. There had been adults nearby, keeping an eye on them. Just like any park he'd been to. No one had told those kids their life was horrible, so they laughed and played like kids everywhere Woody was saddened that anybody had to live like this, but he was kind of proud that they could. There were so many things in Woody's world that suddenly didn't seem so important anymore.
   They made their way back around to the bar. It was after dark now and there were more people here. She stopped at the end of the bar. "Wait here. I'm saying some hellos." Woody nodded and she made her way around a clot of people. Woody was trying to decide what to do with himself when the bartender came over to him.
   "Sit your ass down son." He put his hand out to Woody. "My name's Mike. But you can call me Mike." He smiled as he shook hands.
   "I'm, uh..."
   "You're a friend of Shatter. That's good enough for me. That girl has saved my hide a bunch more times than I saved hers, whacha drinkin'?"
   "Got any dean water?"
   Mike smiled. "Yeah, cleaner than that shit comes out of your pipes. Triple filtered and distilled." He went down the bar and came back with an earthen cup of cold water. "You gotta have questions burnin' a hole in your head. What you wanna know?"
   "She can still hear every word we say."
   "Yeah, tough shit. She left you here by yourself, didn't she? One thing I learned livin' down here is, don't waste time on shit that don't matter."
   "How long have you known her?"
   "That's better. When I met her, her mom was dead for years She just got off a stretch of bein' a gunner on a smuggler boat outside the wall. She got her first real bullet wound that night and needed a place to heal up. She was rough edged and hard as stone, but she wasn't mean. I helped her out. She never knew her dad, I'm not sure her mom really knew who he was." Woody sipped his water. Mike went on. "I know she spent a couple months before that selling herself, but she couldn't do it. Too much fight in that girl. I don't think she'll lie down until at least an hour after she's dead. So she went the other way, predator instead of prey. Then those crazy Jap bastards started looking for a way to test their newest cyber-junk. And then the Germans had their optics. Aid you get the picture. People down here aren't that hard to persuade, specially if you don't tell them it's illegal or might have bad side effects. I wasn't keen on her doin' it, but she pretty much had her own mind by then. So I helped her pick out the good stuff, cut the risks."
   Woody had a lot to absorb. "So how did this place get started?"
   "The Zone? Let me tell you about this place. I lived here before it was a quarantine zone. I was a lineman for the power company. Then one night we all get shaken out of our beds when some asshole de-rails a northbound freight train. I know that doesn't seem like a big deal, but right after, people start swell in' up like dead rats that've been in the sun a few days and droppin' dead. Those of us that didn't die tried to run. But that wasn't happenin'. Army troops were here in them bug suits before dawn. Aid anybody tried getting past 'em got shot and burned. I lived upstairs, like I do now; but some other guy owned the place. I got him to let me bring my tools into the basement. Then he went and got himself killed because nobody liked him enough to have his back. So I took over the place. It's all about friends down here, son. You gotta have some, but you gotta be sure who they are."
   "Is that how you have cold drinks?" Mike nodded. "So why not get the lights working again? You ran the lines underground?"
   "Yup. No lights, somebody out there would see. Besides, know how hard it is to get light bulbs in here? I pay somebody to smuggle me in some grow light bulbs so I don't have to depend on the roof like the others. Lotta work haulin' dirt up three flights of stairs. But is that what you really want to know?"
   Woody shook his head. "Who's Mica? She changes the subject anytime she doesn't want to talk about something."
   "Yeah, you get used to it. She's not a big talker, but she'll let you know how she feels, make no mistake." Somebody at a table yelled something towards the bar. Mike gave him the finger and ignored it. "Mica. That shit. Apparently some jag-off down here reads books. After they put up the walls, lot of people walking around like they were dead. So somebody thought they could use a little religion to make it all better. So people follow some version of a dead god from South America back when they built pyramids and bent their heads. Supposed to be the ruler of the underworld where you have to go after you die and pass a bunch of tests before he decides whether you go to a good afterlife or a bad one. Sounds like a lot of garbage to me. But I guess it helps people to think that there might be someplace actually worse than here." He shrugged.
   Woody finished his water and was about to ask for more when Mike leaned over the bar at him. "You don't let that little girl push you away." He jabbed his linger at Woody's chest. "She's got a good heart. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. And no matter what she says, she could use a friend sometimes. You remember what Big Mike tells you." He stood straight again as Bethany J Shatter appeared at the rail.
   "Don't let this old man till your head with shit, he needs it for the plants."
   Mike smiled, "Don't be such a brat. Now get out of here before one of us gets all weepy."
   They left the Zone the same way they had come in. They got back to the warehouse without any complications or much in the way of conversation. Woody was still re-adjusting his world view and trying to make sense of the things he was thinking and feeling. He changed back into his own clothes through habit only. He was so distracted he almost forgot to wipe off his face and hair, he did miss seeing how she put her hair back on, something he'd wondered about when she took it off. He had bigger things to think about.
   He found himself standing in the middle of the big room with his hands in his pockets. She finished putting things away, came over to him, and put his arm around her. He thought about how normal that seemed, about how they would get in his car downstairs and drive back to the regular world. Back to a world that he wasn't sure he'd ever see the same way again. There wasn't much he was sure of, now Then he remembered all the things he was trying to say on the way in. He remembered her promising that he could tell her after. Well, it was after.
   "I love you."
   She shook her head slightly. "No. You just feel bad for me because of all the shit you just saw I don't want your pity."
   "Pity? Where the hell do you get that, I don't pity you. I respect you more now than I ever have. Do I feel bad that you had to grow up the way you did? Sure. Do I wish that some of the bad things that happened to you hadn't? Sure. But I love you."
   "You have a soft heart. You're just looking to make up for all the bad stuff. The Zone made you feel like this." She lifted her face to him.
   "It didn't make me love you, it made me question if I loved you. It made me face the truth. I love you. If I live another second or another hundred years, that will never change." She let her head rest against him, but he felt that it was more from tiredness than relief.
   
   
   
   Chapter Thirteen
   
   Rausch took a deep breath as he put his hand on the door knob. It was a good thing Motor couldn't read minds, or he'd probably be dead already. Why couldn't this jag-off just leave him alone and let him do his damn job? He opened the door and stepped confidently into the boss's office.
   "What can I do for you, Sir?"
   "You can tell me what you know about this little problem of ours that won't go away. Or you can tell me why you don't know anything yet, even though you've the resources of the entire corporation at your finger tips!" Victor punctuated this with his fist against his desk .
   Rausch didn't bother to argue about what resources he was and was not allowed to utilize. "I have several promising leads, but I'm still confirming or discrediting them, Sir. I didn't want to waste your time with speculation, Sir, and might I add that you've given me a directive to follow and the best thing might be to limit your direct involvement in case there are ever any repercussions. I'll inform you just as soon as we have the operative in question under our control. Sir."
   No, no, no, NO! You'll tell me what I want to know. You will not tell me how to manage my business. You will not tell me about risks that I'm well aware of. Now, convince me that you actually have some relevant information before I make you more miserable than you already are."
   "All right, but I would like to re-state that I think this is ill-advised. We've been making discreet inquiries with mid-level personnel from the company on the other side of the lawsuit to see what they know So far they think that maybe somebody there might have instigated the action at the hotel, but nobody can say for sure, much less offer anything about how contact would have been made. I have to assume they have as much trouble in that regard as we do.
   "We sent an operative to a place that's rumored to be a hang-out for these people, but somebody crushed his skull and stuffed him in the trunk of his own car. When he failed to check in we found him, there was no police involvement so there should be no investigation. We haven I sent anyone else there, but we have the place under long-range surveillance. It has yet to yield any useful information. We're still trying to determine ownership of the property.
   "We have a sighting of one of them in a place they wouldn't be at a time they wouldn't be. We are tracking down the original source to verify the veracity of this incident. And we're putting together a job so that we can submit a package for an operative of these particular skills. It has to be real, or we'll be burned. There is some chance that this might net the person in question, though anyone in the same field would do for interrogation."
   "Fine. That wasn't so hard was it? Keep after it, this is a priority issue, and I want to be kept informed. Understood?"
   "Yes, Sir."
   "Now get out, I have other work to do."
   Rausch left. Let the pompous moron involve himself in criminal actions. What an idiot. Rausch had half a mind to see if he could set the bastard up in the process. He would have to have somebody look into that cop, Rand. Just how thorough was the man?
   
   
   Chapter Fourteen
   
   Woody had gotten up the day after his tour of the Zone and stumbled through his day extremely short on sleep. He'd managed to grade papers before he fell asleep in the living room. He lay there half the night before he stumbled into the bedroom and slept in his clothes. He felt better in the morning. In fact, once he was rested up, he felt better than he had since he was a kid. He finally felt like he had a purpose in life.
   It did kind of worry him a bit that he hadn't heard from her in two days. Well, okay, a day and a half. Maybe she was just busy. Or maybe she just needed sometime. Maybe she thought he needed some time to absorb it all. He was really making a mental effort to remember to ask if there was a way he could reach her next time he got the chance. He knew no relationship is ever completely equal, but there had to be some kind of balance. This being kept in the dark stuff was tough. She'd told him so much, but so little. It made him wonder just how much else she had yet to reveal. What ever dark secrets she was keeping, he knew it wouldn't be enough to change the way he felt. He hoped to see her soon.
   
   He got through the school day without much trouble. It seemed like the kids were behaving just a little better. They didn't seem more interested in learning, but they did keep the usual hi-jinx to a minimum. The dojo didn't go as well. He just couldn't seem to hit his stride. The students didn't seem upset, but it bothered him that he was giving them less than they deserved. He had kind of hoped that she might show up there, but no such luck.
   When he got home, he paused outside his door, held his breath, and listened. The television wasn't on. He let the air out in a sigh and palmed the lock. When he got in and turned on the light, she was there. She had some kind of rag on the coffee table covered with parts of some kind of gun. She was sitting on the edge of the sofa cleaning one of them, in the dark. She didn't look up. "I was getting kind of itchy. Being naked and all. You mind?"
   He put his case in its usual spot. "Nah. Just as long as you don't get oil all over." That was odd, a few days ago it would have made him pretty uncomfortable to have a hired killer bring a gun into his home. "Hey, is there some way I can get hold of you? I mean, other than just waiting. A number? P lace an ad? Something?"
   She put the gun back together with just a few practiced moves. "I guess you've earned it." The gun vanished into her coat and she produced a card with a number printed on it. "Call that. I can't always answer when I'm working, so leave a message. Or not. I'll know. If you don't hear back in two hours, then you can start to worry. If I don't get back to you after six hours, I'm not going to. Sorry, that's as good as it gets."
   Woody took the card. "I don't hear anybody complaining." He sat on the table, avoiding the oily rag. "I love you."
   She looked away. "Don't say that unless you mean it."
   "I mean it. What would I have to do to convince you?"
   "Which dad did you like the best? The middle one was kind of bad. The first one was your real dad, but he left early. The last one is still married to your mom, is he okay?"
   "Yeah, that's about right. He married my mom when I was sixteen. I was pretty much grown up by then and he treated me like a person rather than just mom's baggage. We still get together for lunch about once a month. You want to meet him?"
   She shook her head. "Let's get some food. I know this place that always had good sushi."
   "Okay. So when you change the subject like that, it means we're not going to talk about it, right?"
   She shrugged. "Get a coat, it's going to rain in a few hours."
   "How do you know that?"
   "I look, I listen. It keeps me dead."
   "You said that before. Aid that bar guy, Mike, told me about your, you know, religion. Do you really think you're already dead?"
   "Alter we eat." She kissed him and went to stand by the door. He got his coat.
   They didn't talk all through their meal. He didn't mind. He just liked looking at her. And he liked it when she looked back. She didn't do it often, she was always looking around as if she expected to see something. But when she did look at him, wow. And when they walked together, she wouldn't let him hold her hand, but she kept giving him these playful little nudges and bumps. They had taken her car, and they were back in it and driving before he realized they weren't headed for his place. He decided to wait and see, maybe they were going to her place.
   Before too long they were driving through a quiet, affluent, residential neighborhood. They went down one street more slowly than they had been, and she nodded her head to his side of the vehicle. "See that house?" He nodded. They drove on in silence. After several blocks she pulled into the parking lot of a day-care place. She left the engine running.
   "I did a job there once." She sat quietly for a moment. Woody waited calmly, he could tell this was something important. "It was the first precision job I had. Before that it was all slash and burn crap. Nothing that mattered. But this time I did the leg work, I had the background. I had that place scoped out, analyzed, and dialed in. So I waited for the right day. It had to be raining hard. I went over the fence in the afternoon and I waited on the porch until I saw one of them coming, then inked the knob and got out of sight. They took the dog in out of the rain. I got to work drilling the wall by the front window while they ate dinner. Then I sat in the bushes in the rain until hours after they wire all asleep. The dog would mean they wouldn't use the area sensors. I put the neodymium-iron-boron magnet in the hole, worked perfectly. I made it to the pad and shut off the system just in time to tranq the mutt. He never made a sound. I got into the bedroom without making a noise any louder than a cat. I stuck the company letter opener into his heart just like they wanted, but the woman woke up. I know I didn't make any noise, and the guy died quietly. He gurgled a little, but it wasn't any louder than the noise she made snoring. I don't know, maybe she smelled the blood. Anyway, she opens her mouth to ruin the whole thing so I flipped his pillow onto her face and jumped on her. I sat on her chest and held the pillow down with my knees until she stopped moving. Then I got the hell out of there. The client wasn't pissed. I got paid in full. The news idiots thought it might be a murder-suicide. Stupid."
   Woody sat quietly, feeling very conflicted. He had a lot of things he wanted to say, a lot he wanted to ask, but he had no idea where to start He wondered why she was telling him this. Was she trying to push him away?
   She looked right into his eyes. "That's what I do. That's who I am. I steal things. I kill people, for money. What the hell is wrong with you?"
   "Yeah, but you want to s that, don't you?" She only nodded. "Okay. I won't lie to you, that does seem kinda horrible. But its in the past now, right? You don't have to do that any more. I know you grew up inside a wall, but it's a big world out here. There all sorts of things you can do. I'm willing to let the past go, are you?" She shrugged "It doesn't have to haunt you if you don't wart it to I know its not easy starting over, but I'm not going to let you go through it all alone. I'm here for whatever you need. Okay!"
   She hugged him for a while before she drove back to his place. They made love and then she watched him sleep for hours, listening to the rain outside She decided to stay the night.
   
   
   
   Chapter Fifteen
   
   The next morning they ale Breakfast together before Woody went to work and she went wherever it was that she went when she wasn't with him. He hadn't really asked her what she did the rest of the time, he wasn't sure he'd like the answer He was curious about where she lived. But he was hesitant to pry. If it made her feel safe to keep some secrets from him. who was he to argue? He had come to grips with the idea that he wouldn't, in fact couldn't, keep any secrets from her, very early on It left him feeling a little exposed, but it was also very liberating
   He spent most of his time daydreaming about her. Somewhere, in the background, he was wondering if it meant something that he could do as good a job as usual when he was almost completely on auto-pilot. He never finished that thought, he was more interested in his relationship with Bethany. She seemed like one of those flying aces who fought it out in bi-planes over the skies of Europe last century They were in it for the danger and the glory, and they were pretty likely to go down in flames. The safe thing was to stay out of the way but there were still people who fixed the planes, loaded more ammo, patched up the pilots, and sent them back into the skies. Why? Because they knew it was important, the cause was bigger than all of them. Was that what he was doing? Just what kind of a cause was he fighting for? He couldn't put his finger on the reasons, but he knew he could never walk away. If there was going to be a fireball, he'd be as close as he could
   He put more effort into staying focused at the dojo. He felt the students there deserved better They were all there voluntarily and they were paying him to do his job He had a few random thoughts about which job he would keep if he had to choose, but he recognized that as the desire to have more time to spend with her. He let that drop, there wasn't any guarantee he'd get to spend it with her even if he had more time.
   He drove home in the rain and made a little dinner. He was surprised at how strange it felt to be in his apartment alone. He pulled out the card she'd given him. He had already memorized the number. His first thought had been to add it to all his electronic records, but then he wondered if that was dangerous. She had given it to him on paper, maybe for a reason?
   He had just about decided his memory was good enough that he could destroy the card and end the debate when another thought struck him. He could just use it and ask her when she answered his message. He punched up the number from memory without glancing at the card. He got the automated response. "Hi, it's just Woody I just thought I should use this number once to make sure I did it right. And I wouldn't mind hearing from you, if you're not busy. Thanks." He stood there holding the remote unit thinking that wasn't the kind of message he had meant to leave. The card was still in his other hand He wondered how long it would take for her to get back to him. Should he do something else in the meantime? Watch a movie, maybe? He stood there listening to the sound of his own heart beat and the rain outside for a moment. It sounded like it was raining harder. No, wait. It was just getting louder. He turned his head and listened. It seemed like it was coming from the bedroom. He had that heat-teat-skipping kind of feeling
   She was just closing the window as he came in and turned on the light. There was water all over her and a good part of the floor. She was dressed for work, in a tight black bodysuit and some kind of tactical vest full of gear. "Was that just amazing timing, or were you already up on the—" he didn't finish because she grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him. She smelled like rain and she was breathing faster than normal, well, normal for her. Her mouth still on his. she popped the catches on the vest and let it drop to the floor It sounded heavy. She slid out of the bodysuit and began attacking his clothes. With a mental shrug, he let her.
   She killed the lights, for the whole apartment, as she dragged him onto the bed. They'd made love before, and it had gotten more intimate and caring each lime, but this was so much more intense. He found he couldn't resist getting caught up in her heat and passion. He had always wondered what it was like to behave like animals, and frankly, it was fun. They made a huge mess out of the comforter and sheets, and managed to knock most of the things off the bedside table
   After, as he was catching his breath and collecting his thoughts, she snuggled up against him and. It didn't seem odd to him even though, it was, a little bit. He was the first one to speak "Hey, how did you do that thing with the lights?" He could feel her mouth smile against his chest. "Okay, never mind. If I asked you, and I'm not saying that I am, but if I asked would you tell me if it was a coincidence that you just happened to be in the neighborhood when I called?" She shifted positions, making as much skin-to-skin contact as possible in the process. She let her lips hover just short of making contact with his ear, so he could feel her breath
   "You can fight fate, but you won't win," It had just been a breathy whisper but It stirred his pulse like a challenge from a street tough in a dark alley
   "Yeah, fate can win all. It wants to, but we're doing that again."
   
   Afterwards, he dragged the driest of the sheets and pillows back onto the bed, her hair was still a damp mess but it smelted great They went to sleep entwined in each others arms and legs, as if somehow they could merge into one being in the night.
   Woody awoke just after dawn, an hour before the alarm was set to go off. The bedroom looked like a small tornado had been unleashed in it, and in a way, maybe it had He turned his head to share that thought with Bethany, and found that she was gone.
   He found himself having his half of a conversation in his head that he might have with her if she let him. Could you act like a normal person some of the time? I know you're unique and special, and I love that about you, but could you be just a tinsy bit less wild, random, and scary? Could you try not to freak me out quite as often? Could you stop dodging and evading the one person in the world who puts your welfare over his own?
   He decided to roll over and see if he could sleep until the alarm went off when something large landed on him making mattress slide about a decimeter. After he realized his heart hadn't exploded, he calmly looked into her deep blue eyes. "I love you. No question about it. But could you try to make a little noise sometimes? You're going to s my freakin' heart one of these times."
   "I may have a lot of wetware, but I still use the bathroom, sometimes. You thought I was gone, didn't you?"
   "Well, you have done that. And your stuff is gone." He gestured weakly at the floor.
   "Yeah, I hung it up. To dry. Do you want me here?"
   "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. How many times do I have to say it? I want you here more than I want food. Or air. I don't understand why you can't see that. You don't ever have to leave if you don't want to. I'm only asking if you could make a little allowance for the fad that I can't see and hear the way you do, and make a small effort not to freak me out of my skin quite as often." Her expression was clouded. He went on. "Look, if that's what it takes, I'll I earn to deal with it until I really do have a heart attack or something. And I won't regret a single minute of it, I'm just asking if you'll try. Okay?" She nodded enthusiastically. It looked like there might be the very beginnings of a tear forming in one of her eyes.
   He put his arms around her. "Hey, it's okay." She put her head down against his shoulder. "C'mon. I love you more than life itself, but I can't do a very good job of that if I'm always jumping out of my shoes. That's all I was trying to say." She put her lips to his ear.
   "Shhhhhhh." She pushed her arms under him and wrapped them around his ribs so tightly he had to let his stomach move to breathe. He didn't have any idea what to say, and she seemed to be as calm as she ever got. So he just shut off his brain and held on.
   They were still holding on when the alarm finally did go off.
   
   
   
   Chapter Sixteen
   
   She sat on the roof with her back against the of the elevator shafts, letting the rain wash over her. It wouldn't matter if she left wet footprints once she got inside, since she was going to tell the clients how she got in and what the night custodial and security personnel were doing instead of their jobs It had been easy to gain access to the public spaces in the tower during the day, plant some tiny electronics, and bypass the fire escape alarm to the roof. She'd been sitting here for almost three hours listening to the staff make plans to meet around midnight for their nightly card game. She was supposed to take a package out of an office on the eighth floor It wouldn't be hard.
   The only challenge in this sort of job was the mindless waiting. She couldn't decide if she missed the danger and excitement enough to go back to the darker side. If she was caught on this job, all she had to do was give up and hand over the authorization from the client and she could walk away and keep the money She was determined that wouldn't happen. Her whole being was wired up not to give up or let down She had always completed her jobs in the past, but never by throwing up her hands.
   
   One particular incident burbled up from the depths of her memory. It had been a cold, wet night like this one, and the job had been to follow some corporate button pusher to a back alley meeting where she was going to sell production formulas for some new fruit drink that was going to revolutionize the beverage market It never did. The guy she was going to meet was just some other company's button pusher. They met at some convention and had been seeing each other secretly since. Dispose of them both and retrieve the data, that was the mission. It looked easy up front, but life had a way of being hard when you wanted it least.
   Shatter was tagging along several blocks back and over, keeping out of sight The woman had no Idea her car was bugged, and didn't even take an evasive route Amateurs could make worse easy Or they could make it very hard. The car had stopped at an intersection and stayed there for too long. Something smelled wrong. Shatter calmly headed over to see what was up She pulled the Windstorm to the curb and just watched the scene
   The woman had rammed full-on into the side of a city bus. There were people standing around everywhere and at least half of them were on their phones. There was no way to approach the target without a lot of eyes on her. She checked the woman as best she could from here. It looked like she would live, but she would be in the hospital for three or four days at least Shit. No meeting tonight. The client hadn't said they had to be together when they died just kill them both and get the data. Maybe that could still happen. She waited while rescue started cutting the car up, to see which ambulance came and to hear where they would take the woman
   She headed for the hospital and checked the place out. She watched as they unloaded the careless bitch and took her to the ER. They would bag her belongings and set them aside while they worked. That would be the easy part. Getting to the woman and getting out would be a bit more work. She got off the bike and headed inside. She kept her helmet on, but turned off her face pattern. She opened the face shield as she entered the building through the automatic doors. There was a set of security doors coming up, but it only took her a second to find the frequency. She did her best to look concerned and puzzled as she blew past the nurses station.
   She started with the closest area even though she knew it wasn't the right one. She breezed in and got in the way long enough to see the face of the man on the table She made apologetic noises and went on When she came to the right one. it was a simple matter to swipe the paste bag of personal stuff and slip it under her coal while the staff told her to leave On her way back out, she stopped at the desk and asked where the nearest place they might take a gun shot victim was. They told her. She ran out the way she had come in.
   She moved the bike several blocks away and came back on foot. She had several hours to access the hospital network and find out when and to which room they moved the woman. Maybe her married boyfriend would come to visit her. Maybe that was asking too much. Hospital computers could be very helpful if you knew how to ask the right questions, and people were always leaving terminals logged on in case they needed something in a hurry. The woman's injuries weren't too severe. She had a broken nose from the air bag, a dislocated shoulder, and matching sets of tib/fib fractures. She'd live.
   They put her in a private room within two hours. That had given Shatter ample time to find out how poor their security was. Oh, they made it hard to bring weapons into the place. Through the doors. The upper floors were wide open There were eight places where only a fire escape alarm stood in the way She was inside almost as fast as someone could get out They had only moved the woman to the second floor, so getting out would be easy after all.
   Shatter made her way silently down the hall and into the private room. The company had pretty good insurance coverage to pay for that. She looked at the sleeping woman. They had hooked her up to a bunch of monitors even though she wasn't that badly hurt. Standard procedure set by the legal department Always cover your ass. So the damage would have to be too much for the docs to put back together when the bells went off. She made sure the window would open before she attacked.
   She put her hand over the woman's mouth and held her head down into the pillow. With the other hand she cut both femoral arteries, both brachial ones, punctured both lungs, the heart, and cut about halfway through the neck before she let go and slid out the window. It was a short drop to the ground for someone as augmented as her, and she was off the property before the lights came on in the woman's room.
   She drove by the meeting place to see if the man was dumb enough or desperate enough to stay there half the night. He wasn't She headed for his house next Maybe he had just gone home to bed and would be peacefully snoring away Maybe not, but she had to start somewhere. She made a pass on the nearest cross-street just to get a look at the place and see what she could. The lights were on both inside and out. The guy was packing luggage into the van and trying to yell an explanation at his wife as quietly as he could. This was worth investigating Shatter parked just inside the alley that ran behind the guy's house and jogged across the wet lawns, dodging swings and kids toys as she went.
   She came to the comer of the garage as the guy was telling his wife to get the kids and s asking questions. They both seemed angry and scared. The wife went back into the house. Shatter didn't known it she was going to get the kids or not. It didn't really matter. She slid along the van, keeping low. She came around the back and made lunch meat out of the guy with the same knife she had used at the hospital. If she couldn't kill them both together, at least she could make sure forensics could tie them to each other. She shoved the guy into the back of the van with the bags and closed the hatch. No reason his kids had to see that. She was well clear of the neighborhood when the wife found him. The neighbors all awoke to the screaming.
   
   
   
   Chapter Seventeen
   
   The weekend finally came and Woody got through his classes at the dojo without any lapses. He used to get through school by looking forward to getting his bare feet on the mat, but now he was eager to get through that because Bethany had promised to meet him outside after his last class. He wasn't sure how they would spend the day, but he was looking forward to spending time with her out in the wind. He hoped to get to know her better in a different setting where she couldn't distract him with sex. He decided not to dig too deep since she was giving up the choice of location.
   He finished straightening up and made sure he'd done everything he was supposed to. When he was satisfied he closed the place and almost ran down the stairs. She was waiting just outside the door. She smiled and kissed him before he could speak. It was a passionate kiss, but not a heated one. She finally let him have his voice back.
   "It's good to see you."
   "I know. We just said that."
   "I suppose we did. I have something else to say. Let me see your hand." She offered it to him and he placed it over his heart and looked directly into her eyes. He felt his pulse pick up a bit.
   She left her hand there. "I know that already." She lilted her hand to his face and traced a line over one eye and part way down his cheek. "And you get warm here when you do that. I see it every time. You could never lie to me. I hear you before you speak. You tell the truth when you sleep." She let her hand rest back on his chest. "I know what's in your heart." She let her hand hang by her side and simply looked into his eyes.
   He felt his face flush as he tried to figure out what to say next. She watched him for a moment and spoke just before he did. "Shhhhh. I heard you. Relax." Woody felt a wave of surrender flow over him. He wondered what that looked like as she let a tiny smile creep into her eyes. He held her head gently in both hands and kissed her ear. Then he traced a line of small kisses down her cheek until he finally kissed her mouth, holding his breath. He let go with a sigh. "Did I say that right?" She nodded. They both smiled.
   She finally broke the moment. "So what are we doing today?"
   He thought for a minute before inspiration struck him. "I know. Let's shoot a few holes."
   "In what?"
   He chuckled. "Not like that. Golf balls. With stripes painted on them."
   "I don't get it. You don't play golf."
   "No, not real golf. Miniature golf. My step-sister and I used to go there as kids to get out of the house. Sometimes the guy would let us have a free round or two as long as we paid for one. It was fun. Try it?" She shrugged and nodded. She led the way to her truck.
   "You want the one by your old house?"
   "Nah, anyone will do. The closest one will be fine." When they got in the data was already on the dash mounted OPS unit. "I'm not even going to ask how you did that But I am kind of wondering about something else. You don't have any problem with kissing in public, but most times you won't hold hands."
   She started the engine and backed out of the space. "Old habit. Like to have my hands free. Same reason I don't always close both eyes kissing."
   "Oh, I hadn't noticed that. Don't you ever want to just shut the world out and concentrate on the moment?"
   "Yeah. Indoors though. Your place."
   "Cool. You feel safe there? I'm honored."
   "Yeah. Haven't tried sticking your hand out the window lately? I made a few modifications to your system. I knew you wouldn't be mad."
   "Anything I should know?"
   "Use the door. Use your code. If anybody but you goes in there, I'll know. I'll deal with it. I still can't kill anyone?" He could hear the subtle humor in her voice now that he knew her better.
   "Well, maybe there should be an exception for people who break into our homes with bad intent." They both knew he was only halt kidding and what he was really saying was that he trusted her judgment. "Hey, where is your house anyway?"
   "Right now? Or most often?"
   "You choose."
   "I move around. It's less work than defending one place."
   "Is it really that dangerous? You're getting out of that line of work, how long do you think you'll have to do that?"
   "Why, you wanna play house?"
   "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it yet. I was just thinking it might be nice it you could really rest sometime, feel safe for awhile."
   "That's why I keep moving. You joining me?"
   "I just started thinking a bout that. I don't know that I'd like never staying in one place. I'm used to stability- But, I think I'd get used to it if I had to. I tell you what, lets compromise. I won't try to make you sit still it you bring some stuff to my place so you can feel as much at home there as you ever do, and I can feel like you'll always come back at least one more time. Dear?"
   "That's stupid." She pulled into the mini-golf place and parked. "What kind of stuff?"
   "Anything you want. Stuff that makes you comfortable. No restrictions."
   They bought three rounds. At the first hole she was twirling the putter around to see if it would make a good weapon. "How do you do this?" He set her ball down and motioned her over until she stood in the right place. He stood behind her, showed her how to address the ball and how to hold the club. In high school he'd taken a girl mini-golfing once as an excuse to get close like the. That had been exciting, but it was so much better when it was with somebody you weren't trying to trick into letting you cop a feel.
   She tested the feel of the club a little then shrugged him back. "Get off."
   He was feeling hurt for a few seconds, but as he watched her hit the ball into the side rail and watch as it bounced and rolled he realized that she was learning and that he'd been in the way. He couldn't pick up on the subtle queues that she could so she had to tell him. And she wasn't being mean, she just never learned to be nice. He really hoped the learning curve for this situation would get easier soon.
   They played and had fun. They joked and laughed almost like regular people. She beat him badly all three times. He didn't mind. He wondered it this was all as difficult a transition for her as for him. He wondered if she was willing to make the transition in the end.
   
   
   
   Chapter Eighteen
   
   "Hey, Rand!" The locker room door swung back open and the officer came back through. "Hey, you run crosswise with internal affairs lately?"
   "Why?"
   "Some guy was here, slick suit type, asking a lot of questions. Kinda sounded like he thought you might be bent. Just thought you'd want a heads up."
   "Geez. Don't those pricks have any real work to do? Thanks for nothing."
   The patrol officer left Rand alone. He put his weapon in his locker, locked it and left to look for the El Tee. He found her at the table where the coffee maker was slowly brewing afresh batch of sludge.
   "Hey, what's this crap with the rat cops? I have to hear it from a street beater?"
   "What the hell are you talking about?"
   "Rumor has it I'm on the wrong side of Internal Affairs. You saying you heard nothing?"
   "It I had, you think I would keep it to myself?"
   "Okay. Thanks."
   Rand went back to his locker and finished putting his work things in it before heading home. Great, somebody was dogging him. Somebody outside the department. He'd have to look into it like he didn't have enough to do already. All the regular crimes and then there mi as this multiple homicide over at the Lake Hotel. That was stone cold corporate bad business. K had been going on for years novo, but therein) ere usually fewer bodies. It was always easy to figure out who had to be behind it, you could just follow the money. But proving that responsibility was something else entirely. And don't even think about trying to find the actual doers. In the early days of this trend, there was a guy on the south side who was supposed to have gotten close to pinning a case down. Parts of him turned up in three states.
   Rand wasn't as interested in the perpetrators as he was in who was hiring them. He figured if there wasn't anybody paying the bills the problem would get lighter. Kind of a supply and demand thing. Remove the demand, remove the problem. Besides, he didn't have a lot of good things to say about most slick suit types. They all thought they were smarter than people because they had more money. He'd really like to prove them wrong.
   It was probably the lawyers for that law suit hotel murder thing trying to get an advantage in their legal wranglings. He wasn't about to be used as a pawn. It they thought that they had another thing coming. But he didn't plan on tipping his hand just yet.
   
   
   
   Chapter Nineteen
   
   Woody paid the cab driver and got out. It was a waste of time looking for a place to park down here. He went into the cool darkness of the restaurant and waited for the head waiter to notice him.
   "Hi, I'm hereto meet Bob Anderson."
   "Yes, Sir. This way, please."
   He followed the black jacket to the table. Bob was already there and motioned for him to sit. "How's life treating you, son?"
   "Oh, its all right How a bout you? How's the new building going?"
   "Oh, the usual. There's always one crew fore ma nth at thinks he knows more about my designs than I do. And, like any project this size, its a couple weeks behind schedule. But its all good."
   Their waitress introduced herself as she put water and menus on the table. They waited politely until she left "What's up, Woody? I know that look from somewhere and it means something is on your mind."
   "We'll, yeah. I need advice from somebody who'll tell me the truth. My friends at work will tell me what they think I want to hear, or what at they would want to hear, or what they think Shakespeare would say. That's not helpful."
   "Sure. Anything I can do. I've always liked that we can talk to each other straight up, no bullshit. Shoot."
   "Well I met the girl...woman, I mean. And I can't seem to get her to trust me. And its making me insane. What should I do?"
   "Oh, you've got it bad, boy. I can see it in your face. You have that trapped animal look like you want to run in five directions at once. I've seen that face in the mirror, I know exactly what you're going through."
   "Great. What the hell do I do? I really care about her and it makes me nuts that she won't trust me, even just a little."
   "Yup. And if aliens plucked her from the planet right now, you'd never feel alone again for the rest of your life. And you'd never s looking for her face in the crowd."
   "Is that how it is with you and Mom?"
   "I wish I could say it was, but it is pretty close. Don't tell her I said that huh? No, I'm taking about my first wife. After she died in the car crash, it took me a while to figure out that she would want me to go on. She wouldn't have wanted me to wreck my life over her, she would have wanted me to take whatever good things she gave me and carry them forward.
   "But you didn't come here to listen to me wax poetic over the past. Lets hear about this girl of yours. The two of you are dating?" Woody nodded. "Sleeping together?" Another nod. "Staying over at each other's places? But you haven't moved in together yet, am I right?"
   "Yeah, mostly. She stays at my place sometimes, but I've never even seen her place. I don't even know where it is. I can kind of understand that, she's in a business that involves a lot of tight security. But its not just that, its everything. I've seen where she grew up, and it sucks. I know her life has been tough, I get it. But it I ask her a question she goes another way. She only lets me see what she wants, when she wants. I feel like I'm in a relationship with a magic shown. There are all sorts of colorful distractions and misdirection to keep you from finding out how its all done. And I'm starting to worry that it might really just be a big trick. What do I do?"
   "First, let me kill that thought right noun. Its not just a trick. Women have been tricking men since time began, and we've always let ourselves be tricked because, hey, have you seen them? Who wouldn't? But you always kind of know, in the back of your mind, that something's up. I don't see that on your face at all. If playing games was all she wanted, you'd know by noun and neither of you would still be in it." Bob made a gesture at the menu, and Woody picked it up just as the waitress arrived. He ordered something he'd had before and turned in his menu. Bob did the same and waited for her to leave before continuing.
   "Look, she wants to trust you. She has given you some information, right? Okay, so don't be such an idiot. You want the secret to the universe? I'll tell you exactly what you should do." He waited.
   "Come on, tell me. f m already sitting down."
   "All right but you're not going to like it." He sipped his water. "You're already doing it. Look, you've got to stop searching for some "Knight in Shining Armor" kind of moment that makes it all okay. It won't happen. And you'll just make both of you crazy in the meantime. You want some big grandiose thing to come along and make it better so you can put your angst aside and s worrying. That’s kind of selfish if you think about it. But that's how we think, we fix problems and move to the next one. Can I tell you a secret? Women aren't problems to be fixed. In fact they aren't problems you can fix. They're more like works of art that can never be completely finished. Always in progress. Always evolving. There will always be times when you doubt it you're doing the right thing, and you won't know until after you've done it. The only finality you'll ever get with this is when you're dead. Get used to carrying that angst around, son. Love is both the best and the hardest thing you'll ever do."
   "Yeah." Woody relaxed back into his chair. "Does it ever get easier?"
   Bob smiled. "There are moment."
   "It I'd known what I was getting into..."
   "Yeah, you'd have done exactly the same thing." Woody smiled. "Let me guess. If somebody had told you about her and tried to set you up on a date, you'd have said no and wondered about your friend's judgment. She's 'not your type', and you met in a random encounter and things just kind of snowballed into this before you even realized it was happening. Am I right?" Woody grinned and nodded. "And she could pound a nail through your hand and you'd stand there and let her and wonder why she was doing that. Love can make you do crazy things. Welcome to the club." He reached over the table and shook Woody's hand. As it on cue the waitress brought their food.
   
   
   
   Chapter Twenty
   
   Woody made it back Justin time for his next class. Not so long ago, he would have wondered it Huber had seen him and whether it would make things harder for him it he had. Now, Huber could go piss up a rope. Woody could do just as much damage to him if he wanted to start anything.
   He got through the rest of the school day smoothly, and his student at the dojo seemed eager and motivated. Was there some kind of vibe he was putting off? Could people really do that? Then again, what was that old saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? Maybe he should take advice from his middle dad, who was kind of an asshole but occasionally displayed some wisdom, when he said "If it ain't broke, don't fix it". He had decided that whatever Bethany's idiosyncrasies might be, she definitely wasn't broken.
   He made his way home and let himself in without even wondering just exactly what she'd done to the security system. He was preoccupied with figuring out what it would take for him to become a better man, the kind of man that she could learn to trust overtime. He went into the kitchen and pulled something out of the fridge. He read the directions several times. He dumped enough for three people into a bowl, added a random amount of water, and shoved it in the nukebox. He trudged into the bedroom with intent to put on more comfortable clothes. He loosened his tie and lifted it over his head. Hernias about to hang it up in the closet when he noticed that things weren't hanging where they were supposed to be. In fact there were things hanging in here that weren't supposed to be. There were clothes in here that didn't belong, because they weren't his.
   He found himself grinning like a fool. She had actually brought some things over. He looked through them and found himself a little disappointed. He somehow thought her stuff would be more unusual than this. It was just shirts, pant, and a couple coats that should be in the coat closet by the front door. What the hell, she could hang her coats where ever she wanted. He went looking to see if she'd taken a drawer. He found that she had taken the space between the shirts, in the center of the drawer and filled it with twelve sets of neatly paired and folded socks. He was a little disappointed, he had been looking forward to seeing what kind of under things she had. Then it dawned on him that he couldn't recall her ever wearing any. Maybe she never did. As he stood pondering this he noticed there was something out of place on the bookshelves. That one shelf he'd never gotten around to filling now had something in the space at the end. It was some kind of furry toy animal. He lifted it gently and turned it trying to decide what it had been meant to resemble when it was new.
   "You hurt Snuffy, I hurt you."
   He jerked his hands away and held them up beside his head. Her voice had come from just behind his right ear. "Could you please not do that?"
   She slipped her arms around his ribs. "Sorry."
   He put his hands over hers. "I know it must be so cool to be able, but I get it Do you have to keep doing it?" He felt her shrug. "Lets agree to work on it, okay?" She nodded. "Hey, you know I would never hurt you, right?" He lifted his arm as she slid around to face him without letting go. He let his arm down as she looked squarely into his eyes.
   "I know."
   He noticed some of those involuntary responses in his breath and pulse. He felt his skin moisten slightly. She smiled at him. They both knew it wasn't sexual excitement he was feeling, but rather a deep emotional feeling he was struggling to express. They looked at each other for awhile before she realized she had to speak for him to understand her. "I know. Thank you."
   They stood there just existing in the moment for a while before Woody broke the silence. "Hey, lets go out for some food."
   "Good. I don't know what that stuff you stirred up in the kitchen was supposed to be, but you put too much water in and you never turned it on. I was really hoping you wouldn't offer it to me. It looked awful." She had that familiar impish look again.
   "I'm such a dumbass. I forgot all about it. I should clean it up before it molts or something."
   "I already did."
   "You're amazing, you know that?" She shrugged, but he could tell she liked the compliment. "What kind of food do you want? Your choice. My treat."
   She shrugged. "What do you want?"
   "And you have money of your own, I know. That's not the point." He thought for a few seconds. "Have you ever been to a mall?"
   Her face clouded s lightly. "Not to buy things."
   "Oh. Sorry. How about we go try it again, but without any pressure this time?"
   "I wasn't under pressure last time."
   "I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to say we could go with intent to have fun. Get some dinner in the food court Lots of choices. Maybe do a little shopping after. Just spend time together. We can both forget about our jobs for awhile. Let the rest of the world take care of itself for a few hours. Give it a chance?"
   Keeping her eyes on his, she reached back, opened a drawer, and handed him a pair of jeans. He smiled and changed his clothes while she waited. When they got to the garage, he found that she had parked her truck illegally, right by the elevator. It was as it she knew they wouldn't be here long. He was starting to wonder if she had his whole apartment bugged. It was either that or she was a mind reader. He wasn't sure which idea worried him more.
   She drove to the mall where he usually shopped even though it wasn't technically the closest. He figured she'd probably already been through every scrap of financial information that pertained to him. He didn't consider it an invasion, just something she would do. Besides, that was one conversation they didn't have to have. She had more money than he did, no big deal, end of discussion.
   She circled the large building completely once before choosing a parking space that wasn't the closest one they could have had to the food court, but he was sure she had a good reason, whatever it was. Inside, they both seemed to gravitate to the place with the neon wok. He had picked the mall, in part, so they could each get whatever they wanted and still eat together. It appeared they both wanted Chinese food. He hoped she hadn't picked up on some minuscule non-verbal clue and altered her choice to suit him.
   When they ordered, she seemed to know exactly what she wanted. And she really seemed to be enjoying it when they ate. Maybe she had wanted Chinese and had somehow steered him into it Maybe he should be trying to figure out why he was being so paranoid about it. Maybe he should just let it go and enjoy the evening. He paused in the middle of chewing to look at her.
   She swallowed. "What?"
   "You're beautiful."
   "Eat." She smiled when she said it.
   They finished and began to stroll around looking in store windows. She slipped her hand into his and yanked it away before he could grasp it She did it several more times and he realized she was just making sure she could react quickly if the need arose. He didn't think it would be likely to happen here, but he made sure not to hold too tightly just the same.
   They wandered near a store that was solely designed as an edifice to the silk, satin, and lace creations that should be the first thing a woman put on and the last thing she took off, (if she took them off at all). He steered towards it and she balked.
   "Why?"
   "Oh, relax. It's just underwear. I noticed you don't have much."
   "Yeah?" She let go of his hand.
   "Well, I've never actually worn the stuff myself, but from what I hear most women like this stuff. Like chocolate. I can't tell you why, but give it a chance. Who knows, maybe you'll like it. You do stuff that freaks me out, now give me a turn. Trust me?" She followed him just inside the store. She didn't seem very interested in the merchandise. The last thing he wanted was to make her show her ignorance to strangers in a mall. "Wait here a second." He went over to one of the sales women.
   "Hi, I need help. If I try to pick out things, I'll end up with stuff I like, but what I want is stuffs he'll like."
   "Certainly. What kind of clothes does she wear? Business woman? Is she a sports person? Give me a place to start."
   "She's standing over in the doorway. Would it help if I could get her to take the long coat off?"
   The woman sized Bethany up with a practiced eye. "No problem. Would the lady like to join us and pick out styles and colors?"
   "I rather doubt it. It's more my idea than hers."
   "All right Lets see what we can do. I'd guess she doesn't wear dresses often. She's something of a tomboy?"
   "Yeah. I'd say you've done this before." He was feeling relieved.
   They picked out a variety of things with minimal input from him. The woman offered sensible choices and picked up on his mumbles and nods. They ended up with half a dozen items, all very slippery feeling, but nothing fuzzy or frilly. Only solid colors, mostly cool, dark ones. Woody paid and thanked the sales lady again.
   Bethany was still where he'd left her, but she had moved to the side and put the doorframe to her back. He felt his face flush as he got near her.
   "Are you happy now?" She didn't seem as annoyed as he was afraid she'd be. "I suppose you want me try all that stuff on when we get back." He could tell she was teasing him.
   "Well, yeah. Unless you think some of it would look better on me." She slipped her hand back into his, giving a nice balance to the shopping bag in the other. They went once more around the mall and he discovered that he wasn't wrong in thinking there was one branch she wouldn't go down. The first time he thought maybe the bookstore was more interesting, but after a second avoidance, he was wondering what there was that she'd want to stay away from. Was this the mall? He tried not to think about it.
   They left the mail and headed back toward his place. He wondered if she really was going to try on any of her new lingerie. He thought about asking her, but it seemed too eager. He did feel the need to have some conversation but, thinking about it, he realized that probably wasn't necessary. If she felt the need to take, he had no doubt that she would. It was nice actually, not feeling like he had to come up with something to say.
   He glanced over at her as much as he could without actually staring. About halt way home, she pulled a fifteen centimeter square pad-like device out of her coat and split her attention between it and the road. He couldn't see what was on the screen from this angle as she tapped it a few times and then set it in her lap. She pushed a button on the dash GPS unit and the screen came on but instead of the usual map data it had a lo-rez picture of some teenage boy in profile.
   "Recognize this one?"
   Woody looked closely. "No. Can't say that I do. Why?"
   "He's on your studio roof." She turned the next corner changing routes from apartment to dojo. Her jaw line looked hard in the greenish light from the dash.
   "What are we going to do?"
   "You are staying in the vehicle. I have to know who he is and why he's there."
   "Are you planning on hurting him?"
   "Not it I don't have to, but it he's one of us I can't have him on me and I might have to forget about that promise for a couple seconds. Sorry."
   "I didn't really mean it that literally. Do what you have to."
   They were well over the speed limit as they came down the street towards the lights of the store downstairs. She killed the lights and pulled onto the curb just fifty meters short of the lot. She got out and slithered up a utility pole with a power and fluid grace he'd almost forgotten she had. She slid back down after only a few seconds at the top. She came over to his open door. She pointed to the switch for the aimable exterior light. "Count to ten and see it you can get that on him." He would have agreed with a nod, but she was gone before he could move. He watched her cross the lot and disappear behind the building. She was fast. Cheetah fast. Woody felt goose-bumps on his arms and neck. He'd forgotten to start counting, so he just guessed after a few more seconds. He flicked the light on and aimed it across the ground and up the side of the building as fast as he could. He thought he caught a glimpse of movement at first, then nothing. He swept it around the edges and just above the middle. He wasn't finding anything. He figured the light had been a distraction just long enough, but decided not to turn it off just yet.
   A few minutes crawled by before he saw her come back around the corner. He turned off the light and waited for her. She waked across the pavement like she owned it. He saw a kid, it had to be the kid, come around the far front corner, stop, stumble, and throw up all over his shoes. The kid staggered a little further and sat down hard. He didn't look well.
   Woody turned his attention back to Bethany. She came right up to him looking as composed as he'd seen her.
   "What's the story?"
   "He's a norm. With the kid working downstairs. I don't think he'll be up there again."
   "What did you do?"
   "Asked him a few questions."
   "And he just told you anything you asked?"
   "He may have gotten the idea that I'd let go if he didn't"
   "Let go?"
   "He's clumsy. He almost fell. Good thing I was thereto catch him." They got back in the truck and she pulled back onto the street.
   "Would you have?"
   "You really want me to say it?"
   "No. That's okay." Any thoughts of the lingerie in the back seat had left his mind.
   
   
   
   Chapter Twenty One
   
   Rand stood out of the sun under some sickly looking tree, waiting. He put a piece of nicotine gum in his mouth, he'd quit smoking years ago but had never bothered to muster the willpower to kick the gum habit So much of his job was all about waiting, but he never liked it. He had to wait for test result, he had to wait to interview grieving relatives, and he had to wait for mysterious informants in run-down parks. He looked at his watch for the fourth time and decided to give this snipe hunt another three minutes.
   He looked around and caught sight of a man in a designer suit. That was out of place. He looked more carefully. It was that security guy from NexTech, Victor Santra's trained dog, what the hell was his name? Rausch, that was it He started walking casually over, wondering what kind of stupid ploy they were going to use to try influencing the investigation. Who did these people think they were that they could write their own laws?
   As Rand moved in, Rausch acted like he'd just noticed a familiar face. What a novice. Who trained this guy?
   "Don't waste my time, Rausch."
   "I have no idea what you mean. Its a pleasure to run into you like this. I've been meaning to inquire how you're progressing in your investigation of the unfortunate business at the hotel."
   "You're so full of shit its coming out your mouth."
   "Excuse me? Is this how the police treat concerned citizens? Why, I should file a complaint with your supervisor."
   "Screw you." Rand turned to leave.
   "Wait. I am actually interested in your investigation." Rand stopped, but didn't turn around. "Would you care discuss how we might be able assist each other?"
   Rand faced him. "Stop yanking me around. You called this meeting, now get to the point." He looked like he was getting annoyed.
   "I have information that may facilitate your work." Rand made a bored winding motion with his index finger. "There was only one invading operative."
   "Yeah, no shit. I know all about the hit and who did it. Have you got any proof?"
   Rausch tried to hide his interest. "Have you brought someone in for questioning?"
   "Of course. Have you got anything worth dragging me down here, or are you just blowing smoke up my ass?"
   "All right I'll tell you how Roberts died it you tell me about the operative who hit our witness."
   "You first." Rand waited. He was good at waiting. Finally, Rausch's need to know overcame his reluctance to tell.
   "You've interviewed all the living witnesses by now. If you reconstruct the scene you'll find that the ballistics don't quite work with the verbal accounts. Some of the gun barrels were changed under direct orders. You'll find that one of the deceased personnel had the gun that killed Robert. He didn't fire that bullet, Robert wasn't even on the floor until after the shooting had stopped."
   "So Santra shot him. Are you willing to go on record about this?"
   "I could be if you can identity the operative to me."
   "You don't want to go down that road. Trust me. I've been cleaning up after these people for years now, and you have no idea what they're capable of."
   "Yes, I do. That's why they get hired. They do the jobs no one else can."
   "I wasn't taking about physical ability. If you think that's scary, you should see my cold case files. You mess with these people, you get killed. It's like poking a badger with a sharp stick. It's gonna get ugly, and it's gonna happen fast. I've never met a darkling, that I know of, and I hope I never do. But I know these people, and they don't blink. Ever." Rausch didn't look impressed enough for Rand's comfort "Look, you have two directions to pick from. You can help me take down your boss and I can protect you from his retribution, or you can get yourself killed. Bottom line, you go the dark way and nobody can save you."
   "So the long arm of the law doesn't reach quite that far? You're actually afraid of these people?"
   "Shit, yes." Rand looked right at him.
   "I'll get back to you when I've made my decision."
   "I hope you choose to live."
   They each went their own way out of the park, both thinking they had learned more than they had green up. Only one of them was right. The game had changed for both of them and they were thinking surprisingly similar thoughts about how they could leverage things, each to their own favor.
   
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Two
   
   Woody sat in his lining room randomly picking channels and only watching each one for a moment. He hadn't seen Bethany in two days, not since she had hung some kid off a second story roof with intent to drop him just because he was in the wrong place. People made mistakes, and kids -especially kids- weren't supposed to be punished as harshly because they were young and still learning. He was trying to understand this woman. The way he imagined it, she probably had learned some very hard lessons as a child. So maybe she didn't feel like giving ground to a world that had rarely even given her any. Maybe he should be trying to help her adjust to a society she'd never really been a part of. But he couldn't stop wondering how it would have affected him it she'd dropped some kid off his studio roof. He was willing to forgive her past as long as it really was past.
   At least she'd taken the lingerie with her. He figured it she'd been mad she would have made him keep it. She was probably just busy, but he had to wonder what she really did with her time. He could have called her, but he felt like it would be better it he took the time to calm down and try to be rational. He needed to figure things out because she either couldn't or wouldn't. He could help her if she would only let him. How could he make her understand that she could relax around him, that he would never abuse her trust or use anything s he told him to hurt her. He punched another channel.
   Bethany came out of the bedroom and dropped onto the sofa next to him. She was wearing the jet black, silk robe from the store in the mall and nothing else. Woody tried to look calm and nonchalant, but he figured his cover was blown when the remote hit the floor. She looked pretty pleased with herself.
   "I kinda like this one. The others are okay under clothes, but they look strange with all the scars showing. They all feel sort of nice, real slippery and light. What do you think?"
   "Oh....yeah."
   "Do you think I should try some other colors'? Because I was thinking--"
   He kept her from finishing her thought by kissing her. She didn't mind. The robe look great on her, but he thought it looked pretty good in a heap on the floor too. His clothes quickly followed it. They made love on the sofa. He wouldn't even think to compare this time to the first time, until later. The screen went dark and some music with a strong beat came on. He wasn't sure it she had used the remote, and he wasn't sure it he cared.
   
   After, she retrieved her robe from the floor and draped it partly across herself. She wasn't interested in modesty, she kept sliding her fingers over it and it over her body. Woody matched her for a few minutes before he found the remote on the floor and turned the music down.
   "You know, school let out in another month or so, and I don't have any summer classes at the dojo for two weeks. Want to take a trip or something?"
   "Like what?"
   "I don't know. Is there anyplace you've always wanted to see? Mountains? An Ocean? I don't know where you've been so far."
   "Nowhere. I told you about airports. I've only gone places I can drive in a few hours. Why do you want to go on a trip, anyway?"
   "I don't know. I thought it might be fun. Go someplace different. Leave our regular lives behind for a while. It can be relaxing to be where people don't know you and don't put demands on you, once in a while. Vacation. That make sense?"
   "Actually, that sounds kind of nice. But I don't know if I can be gone that long."
   "It doesn't have to be the whole two weeks, let's just take a long weekend and see."
   "Where?"
   "I don't know. I'd like to pick someplace I knew you'd like, but I don't know enough to even make a good suggestion." He looked pained about it.
   "What do you want from me? I haven't been anywhere I haven't stolen something or hurt somebody. Happy?"
   "No. I'm not I understand that. Look, some of the things you've done bother me. Some of the things you still do, bother me But I understand that you live by a very different set of rules than I'm used to. I'm not trying to hold you to some higher moral standard and I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just asking. I don't know where you've been. Your life is not an open book to me, or to anyone I imagine. I'm not looking for a reason to s liking you. I'm just trying to adjust, you know?"
   She let the robe slide to the floor. "Let's talk about your trip, then."
   "Come on. This is important. The trip doesn't really matter. And I'm not going on a trip without you. I will never abandon you. Never. I can't prove that to you except by never doing it I'm asking you to give me a chance to live up to that promise. Give me something. Something small. Let me have one thing that really scares you."
   She looked into this eyes for a longtime. Neither of them blinked. Woody felt his eyes starting to get really dry as hers started to mi ate r slightly. She blinked. "Snuffy."
   "You mean the bear in there?"
   "He's a hedge hog."
   "Ml guard that hedge hog with my life."
   "Don't be stupid. Its not Like the toy is in danger. And I know its just an old toy. It's just...the only thing I have left."
   "Of what?" He could tell she was holding back old tears that she thought she would have cried out long ago.
   "My mom. I know, I'm weak."
   He tipped her chin so he could look in her eyes. "No. You're not. You're the bravest person I know."
   "Why?"
   "I don't know your whole story, but I know enough. I know life has been pretty bad to you. I know you're not used to having anything or anyone you can really depend on besides yourself. And yet, here you are. You never gave up. Not on life. Not even on love. I can't say I'd have done the same if our positions were reversed."
   She put her arms around his neck and rested her head against him. There were no tears, but there had been enough. He held her, resolving to hold her as long and as often as she wanted.
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Three
   
   They had collected some of his clothes and her robe and moved into the bedroom. She had taken care of the lights without ever touching the switches. Now they were laying on the bed just taking occasionally and quietly--Woody was looking at her body in the dim light from the new lamp on the nightstand. He picked a scar on her side that looked fairly new. "How'd you get this one?" He ran his finger over it as gently as he could.
   "A bullet."
   "Okay. I was kind of hoping for a little more than that. I'm not looking for names and dates, or anything. It's just...I've never been shot before, so I wonder what you were doing when it happened."
   "I was shooting him. I won." Woody let his annoyance at playing word games show on his face. "Okay. I was disposing of a witness. These two companies were both trying to acquire some other small company at the same time. It got ugly. Like always and they start throwing paper bombs on each other."
   "Paper bombs?"
   "Court stuff. Lawsuits. So one side comes up with a pissed off employee from the other place who's telling all kinds of stuff. Some of its even true. Not that it matters, its still going to hurt them in court. So they float some cash to fix the problem. It comes my way, doesn't matter how. So I spread some around and find this witness. They have her stashed in a tall building, a hotel. I spend a couple days looking it over and setting it up. I get on the roof and in through the vents. I get to the right floor and spend forty seven minutes with a pair of friction pads creeping down this duct" she held her hands up about shoulder width, "so I won't wake her up. Another eight minutes to back the screws out from the wrong side and catch them on a sticky pad that fits through the vent Then I go head first and catch myself with my feet. I reach up and switch to hands so I can drop down. I was quiet. She never woke up. I finished her with a knife. But I can't go back out the same way 'cause its too slow. If somebody checks on her, which their supposed to but don't always, I've got problems. I had the place rigged days before, so I kill the lights. And this guy who isn't even supposed to be there stumbles in from the other room. Its the fucking CEO of their company. They never hire us to go after each other, just the little fish. Some kind of code of honor, or some shit, but it'll be deep shit, if waste him. I knew f d have to deal with the hallway goons, but I was going to lure some of them into the suite and go out the other side so I only have half as many, and maybe they shoot each other in the confusion. I have to change plans noun, I can't get this asshole shot full of lead. So I went out shooting and one of those guys had better eyes than the others."
   She ran her fingertip over the scar, "It's only a graze. They bleed some, but it didn't even break the rib. It didn't even hurt that much." Woody leaned down and gently put his lips to the s car. "Don't be stupid." She didn't push him away.
   He settled back next to her. "I can see why you want to change jobs. Aside from getting killed, it can't be much fun to get hurt Like that Does that happen often?"
   "Less than it could, more than I want."
   "Hey, when you back the screws out, how do you keep the vent cover in place until you're done?"
   "String and magnets."
   "Those people we met in St. Louis, they do the same kind of things?"
   "Sort of. They each have their own style. They do things differently. Choo, the big guy with the tats, is all muscle. Hardly any speed or stealth. If you want somebody hurt bent, or broken he's your weapon. Then there's Torch. His thing is hurting property. But he doesn't care about people, if they get in his way...whatever." Woody got the idea there was some ill-will between the two of them over something long past. She went on.
   "Skitch is a ghoul. She knows things, but she doesn't do anything. She's a waking scientific instrument. Very much the pass rue pee ping torn."
   "What about the one with all the blade scars, Silver?" That wasn't what he really wanted to ask, but he didn't want to seem too eager.
   "Silver? She's nuts. She fights. Its about all she lives for. So she's your girl if you want to try to protect yourself from one of us. I think she likes pain. She carves a new line every time she wins a fight" She shook her head slightly. "I know you're dying to ask."
   "About what?"
   "Vertical."
   "Well, I am kind of curious. I was kind of worried about her at first, but you said that wasn't a problem."
   "Yeah. She does people and gets them to tell her stuff. Or let her take things. I think she's got some really bad wiring in her head. She's always scared, but I think she likes it that way. I don't mind her kissing me, but anything beyond that will get her hurt and she knows it. She likes to go right up to danger, but not quite into it. I haven't spent too much time with her, but she can be useful sometimes."
   "So its kind of like a team effort?"
   "You have to have some people or keep your back to a wall. Its not really a team, outline all make out better if we work together."
   "And what's your thing in this group?"
   "Speed and stealth. The lightning bolt. Its over before you know what happened. I won't stand around and hurt people the way Choo does. And Torch doesn't even care who gets hurt He's too reckless for me. I won't take a job if it can't be done cleanly."
   Woody wondered about that last statement. From what little he knew so far, it seemed like none of her jobs ever went cleanly. Then it occurred to him that maybe her jobs were clean by comparison. That didn't make him feel any better about her friends, but it made him all the more grateful that she wanted out of that line of work.
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Four
   
   Denton Rausch sat at his desk with his jacket off, staring at the screen. He had two small boxes open in each upper corner showing views of normal looking residences. They were houses belonging to questionable employees. It wasn't that he thought he'd see anything significant before the on-site team did, it was just his way of keeping involved and on of things. The rest of the screen was filled with employee rosters from DSP International. He was sifting through them looking for people in key positions that they could afford to target. If he was going to feed somebody to the darklings it might as well profit the company, as long as it wasn't too obvious.
   The center of the screen was abruptly covered by two large, red flashing letters; VS. Just great, that was his assistant warning him the boss was barging in. He darkened the main screen, leaving the surveillance feeds active just as the door opened. Victor came in and closed it.
   "Not disturbing you, I hope."
   Yeah, your very existence disturbs me. "No, Sir. What can I do for you." He didn't get up.
   "You can tell me how our nocturnal project is going. I haven't had an update in quite a while, so I thought I better light afire under you."
   I'd like to light a fire on you, you freak. "Sorry, Sir. I felt it was inappropriate to create any sort of records that could form a trail or I would have sent you updates hourly, or as often as you wanted. I'm very close to acquiring the services of some of the operatives in question, I was just determining targets before you stepped in."
   "Who are you looking at?"
   "Mid-level managers over at DBP whose removal might prove advantageous in the long term, large scale picture. Nothing that would point fingers at us. Even if anyone ever discovered any benefit to us they would assume it was just retribution for the damage we suffered in the PurStik case."
   "No, you idiot. Nothing can lead back to us. I want you to find people in our subsidiaries that could be targeted by them. Nothing too damaging, mind you. We get the information we need and they get the blame. I don't want the other operatives coming after us when this is done. Now, get on it" He left as suddenly as he'd arrived, leaving the door open behind him.
   Rausch's assistant appeared in the doorway to apologize for not giving more warning. Rausch told him it wasn't his fault and asked him to close the door. He had bigger things on his mind. So the Big Vic was afraid of these people after air? That might provide a very useful bit of leverage. He had work to do, and maybe that cop could be useful too.
   
   Detective Rand sat calmly sipping his espresso, waiting for one of his informants to come into the cafe. He was looking over his notes while he waited, he was beginning to form a profile of Victor Santra. This was not a nice guy, but he knew how to make money for the share holders so he stayed in power. Nobody had ever pinned anything on him, but it you followed his history he did seem to be at the epicenter of a lot of anti- union violence, hostile takeovers, and mysterious disappearances. Rand was thinking this guy would have fit in pretty well with any hard core bunch of Russian mobsters.
   The guy came in and went to the counter to place an order. He wasn't dirty, but his clothes were always rumpled and a bit worn. He favored oversized olive drab jackets and jeans. His hair was unkempt, but his mind was tidy and sharp as a razor blade. He waited for his triple espresso to arrive and downed about halt of it before he looked around and noticed Rand. They acknowledged each other with slight nods. The guy circled around and joined Rand at his table without any pleasantries.
   
   "I need information Chaser, but it's tough this time." The other man snorted. "I need to know how somebody hires a darkling."
   Chaser raised his eye browns. "You going over to the other side? Tired of watching the bad guys laugh at you and walk?"
   "Nah. Its for a case. I was wondering if anybody had found any new ways to trace it back to who hires them. I got a guy I know did the deed, but I have to have proof for the DA"
   "Okay, here's why you can't do that. The way it works is, you ask the right questions to the right people, and then you wart. It you check out, somebody you've never met and will never see again gives you a contact number. You get somebody who doesn't know what they have, and doesn't care, to leave a request. Then somebody moves it to another blind drop. I handle this kind of traffic all the time. I never know what it is, and I don't want to. It pays decent money not to, and it gets you dead it you do. It wanders through a series of drops until it sits in one for a while, there's a complex algorithm that decides when and how long, and then one of us deletes it. Somewhere in that path, the darklings look at it and decide it one of them wants it. There's no way to tell who saw it or who they told. And don't try to trick them, because they always smell it first and then they come after you. You try to set one of them up and even if you got one, which you won't, the rest of them will turn your whole life into cat food. The last guy to try that got himself, his family, and halt the officers of his company massacred in less than twelve hours. Working with these people is like building atomic bombs, its perfectly safe as long as you know how dangerous it is and you follow the protocols. Don't color outside the lines, man."
   "Okay, it sounds like the chain is only as good as the people in it. I don't want the darkling, I want the people that did the hiring. Somebody in that company knows something. All I have to do is find them and get them to talk about it Great Walk in the park."
   "What kind of job are you trying to back-track?"
   "That hit over at the Lake. Some witness in a lawsuit."
   "That's rough. Word is, the witness was going to lie her ass off on the stand and NexTech would set her up for life on an island someplace warm. The big cheese, Santra, was there because nobody thought DBP would go after her if he was in the way. Trouble is the Op was probably already in the works before he bothered to drag his butt down there. I guess he's too busy to sit in a hotel for a couple days. Could've saved himself a whole lot of money. Its too bad he didn't get run over by whatever truck hit his witness."
   "Is that DBP's take on Santra?"
   "That's just about everybody's take on Santra. No unite, no kids, no friends, why do you suppose that is? Only the stock holders would notice if he fell off the Earth. But you're after somebody at DSP, right?"
   "Yeah. But I wouldn't mind taking Victor down too. I can't prove it yet, but I'm sure in my gut that he shot his own security man in the head. That's a rumor you can have. Let me know if you run across anything useful, will ya?"
   "Yeah, you do the same, right? Anything about this conversation I should keep quiet?"
   "No. Just don't identify the source. The usual amount okay?"
   "Yes. I'll refund it if you can get Santra off the scene. He's bad for my kind of business."
   Rand smiled. "I hope I can take you up on that, my friend." He got up and left the cafe so Chaser could get down to making a living. He knew he should be in pursuit of the person or persons responsible over at DSP, but he was really getting a Jones to take down Victor Santra. Something said he was guilty of a lot more than anybody even suspected. He was trying not to think about the subtle similarities between himself and Victor. He told himself that he was different, since he was divorced rather than never married like Santra. And he did have a few friends, though most were cops or retired cops. Neither of them had kids, but his wife hadn't been able. That was largely at the core of their divorce. He did spend almost as much time working, but Victor had better hours. Daytime hours. He decided to focus on the job at hand, because if you didn't focus the bad guys just walked by and laughed at you.
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Five
   
   Woody drove slowly, looking for a place to park. As he neared the library, he noticed Bethany's truck was parallel parked in two spaces, too bad she hadn't left him room. As he neared it he saw the tail lights go red so he braked to see what would happen. The black behemoth rolled forward so it just barely fit into a single space, leaving plenty of room for him. There was no one at the controls. He parked behind it and looked in the windows, just to be sure. Nobody there. He made his way inside.
   He found her at a terminal that faced the wall, affording the maximum privacy available for a public place like this. She smiled when she saw him and pushed a chair out. He sat down and looked at what she had on the screen. It looked like crime scene photos and police reports from years ago. He read some of it and found it was a string of grocery store fires that had put a small chain out of business. It had never been soloed.
   "How did you get this?"
   "I didn't hack the cops. This is a pirate resource. People who know computers better than me get this stuff and put it up somewhere. It moves around. You have to know where to start looking. It cleans up its own trail. Pretty cool."
   "Okay, why are we looking at it?"
   "I worked with the guy who did these for a while. I was only in for one of them. I didn't like it much, so I got out and did my own thing."
   "So this is a low point for you?"
   "Yeah, in more ways than one. You said you wanted to know stuff like this, right?"
   "Yes, I guess I did." He found himself looking at photos of burned people. "There were people in it when he set it on fire? Couldn't he have phoned in a bomb scare or something to empty the place out?"
   "That's what I wanted to know. That's why I stopped doing jobs like that Only people who take part in the risk, you know?"
   He wanted to look away from the repulsive pictures, but he knew she had seen them happen. He really wanted to learn about her life and no matter how hard it was for him, that was nothing compared to how hard it would have been to live it. "So what about your best job? How about a high point for comparison?"
   She turned her attention to the terminal. "That's easy." He found himself looking at a newspaper headline from a year ago. "Seven Million Dollar Prototype Stolen." He scanned the article. A chip had vanished from a secured, interior room of a major computer maker. Both the company and the police were baffled about how it had been done, and decided it was an inside job. Bethany changed the view. The next article was about the ongoing investigation. The cops had brought half the company in for questioning and gone through the homes, cars, and anything else they could think of belonging to eighteen employees. They found nothing.
   Bethany brought up an article from the financial section months later. A rival multi-national corporation had developed similar technology making the theft of the first chip old news. It remained on open case, but it sounded like they would just collect from the insurance and move on. He wondered how much it cost to insure something like that. Would it be cheaper just to take the loss?
   "You did that?" She nodded. He could tell she was proud of it. "How?"
   "Not here." She tapped a few buttons and the screen went dark.
   They went to a park with a fountain. He guessed it helped keep people from listening in. They strolled around like any other couple would, just enjoying the spring air. She was steering them gradually to a bench near the rushing water. They sat for a while and he managed to contain his curiosity. He knew she hadn't forgotten his question and would answer when she was ready. She took his hand casually before she spoke.
   "It's like this. Sometimes these places have so much security it can work against them. They have so much stuff they figure it's foolproof and they s worrying. I paid for a crack at the security cam feed and got a look at the room and who was in it when. Nobody was ever in there over night, but they kept the lights on so they could watch the cameras. We just copied a nights worth of feed and fed it back to them to hide what was going on. That was the easy part. Well, maybe not for the hacker, but I don't know for sure. Anyway, I had a bunch of special equipment made in pieces so nobody would know what it really was. Getting on the property wasn't hard, getting into the building was a little more work. I had to go in through the air system from the roof. Somebody had at least thought to tag that stuff for once, and I had to run about twenty jumper wires to keep it quiet.
   "And the jerks hung the motion sensors from the ceiling so I couldn't move through the ducts until they were dealt with. So I was in this fifty centimeter metal pipe for almost two hours, using a remote vehicle to change out the sensors for tricked ones I had made and brought with me. Then I had to hang out of the vent an assemble a rolling hanger eight tracks wide to hold my weight so I don't get into the knee lasers and pressure sensitive floor, At least the case wasn't wired. The lock on it wouldn't have stopped a kid, or I would have just cut it open. So I snag the thing and make my way back out the same way, taking all my toys with m e. I still have most of them. I used the sensors on another job and left them there, but I kept the track rider. I had already delivered the item to the drop before they knew it was gone."
   "And nobody got hurt."
   "Nobody got wounded or killed. People lost jobs and rep over it. It's not the only bloodless job I ever did, but it was the hardest. I like taking things better, it's more challenge. But I'm better at killing people, so I get-" She tipped her head, "got more jobs like that."
   "Could you give up the killing and keep doing the cat burglar thing? I can see that you liked it and I'm guessing it made you money."
   "I don't know. Maybe. But once you're in something it's hard to get part way out. Besides, I always wanted to see what regular life was like. My mom used to tell me about how things were before the wall. Maybe she was telling me how things should be, I don't know. It sounded nice. She did the best she could no matter what came along, but I could always tell she would've gone over the wall in a second if she thought we could make it."
   "Well, I'm glad you decided to see the world. And I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually glad Huber picked me to give you a tour. I must have done something right in a previous life. Or I'm the luckiest guy I know." She smiled and buried her face in his shoulder.
   They sat for a while enjoying the sunshine. He showed her how to make a wish when you threw a coin into the fountain. He was always surprised by how well she understood some things, but yet she had odd gaps in her knowledge. He supposed if they moved into her neighborhood their positions would be reversed. He was glad things were the way they were.
   
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Six
   
   Woody woke up slowly, knowing it was Sunday and he didn't have to be anywhere. He felt Bethany against his side and smiled. He turned his head to her and let his eyes open. She was staring right back into his. With any other woman, that would have been creepy but with her it was a little like having a guardian angel.
   "What?" She always seemed to know what was on his mind.
   "What's the metal thing on the back of your head for? I noticed it when you had your hair off that one night. I can kind of feel it now that I know it's there. What does it do?"
   "It's supposed to be a thing for people who lose the use of body parts so they can have machines work for them. I use it for that, but not the same kind of machines. It lets my brain talk to stuff. It's faster that way."
   "I've noticed that you've never chipped a nail or changed the color since I've known you. Don't get me wrong, I like that burgundy color. Are they artificial?" She nodded. "What happened to the real ones?" She held one hand up and flexed the fingers, just so. Surgical steel blades two centimeters long snapped out and clicked in place. She flexed again and they disappeared just as quickly.
   "There's more. My bones are reinforced with a resilient alloy. They put these nano-bots in that bore longitudinal channels and construct these little struts that look like something bugs would live in. They inject more of the stuff into your bones every day for two weeks. Choo might be able to break one, but you aren't strong enough. There are special fibers laced into my muscle tissue that make m e stronger and increase my speed. That one isn't fun getting used to. My tendons and ligaments are reinforced, or I'd tear myself apart. One thing always leads to others. One more reason I want out. I don't want to be more machine than I am already."
   "Can you get that stuff taken back out?" She shook her head. "Does it hurt to have it put in?"
   "Yeah. You can feel the little nano-bots doing things to you. The cerebral interface connection was bad. They drilled a hole in my skull. The skin wouldn't heal up right around the thing for weeks. It was sore a lot. I wouldn't sell it to anybody unless they lost their legs or something. Now, I'm kind of used to it, but it still feels weird if hard things bump it or when I connect to something. It took a while to learn to use it. It's tricky to split your attention that way."
   "Have you killed anybody with those nails?" She just looked at him. "Yeah. I know. I guess I had this idea that somehow it was easier to think about it with a little distance. I figured you kept as much distance as you could. Even if you had gloves between you and them it seemed less personal."
   "These work through gloves." She could see him imagining how that would look. "I thought they were the way to go when I was young. Never be unarmed, Al ways ready for anything. Then I learned. It's not a lot of fun if you hit something hard and break one. Not much fun getting it replaced either."
   "Don't they give you a local anesthetic or something?"
   "Costs extra. Anyway, I learned that external weapons that you can change according to the job and get rid of when you have to are better in the long run. But I still kept 'em just in case. You never know."
   "So how much other stuff is out there that we boring, normal people haven't seen yet?"
   "You don't want to know. It's a freak show. You give people that no one will miss to the Lab Rats to practice on and they go nuts. I saw a girl who had a vat grown eye in the back of her head that wouldn't stop oozing...stuff. And there was this guy who let them inject him full of nano-bots that were supposed to make him bullet proof, but all they did was spend three weeks eating most of his skin off. He lived a while after. It was ugly."
   "You ever get any bad stuff like that?" He seemed a little hesitant to ask.
   "No way. I was always careful. I had help too. Mike and Toady Joe and Cindy watched out for me. If they had doubts about something, I had doubts. They didn't think the whole idea was a good one, but I was doing it anyway. And I looked out for them. People have tried to squeeze Mike out of his place a couple times. Nobody screws with him now. Death from the darkness, baby."
   "So...what do you want for breakfast?"
   "I had a big, round waffle once with blueberries and whipped cream all over it. That was good. I always wanted to try that again some day, but I was kinda saving it for a special occasion."
   "Like what?"
   "Like today."
   "What's so special about today?"
   She shook her head. "Huh uh. I'll tell you later if your a good boy." She kicked the covers off herself and walked naked into the bathroom. She didn't close the door, but he wasn't sure if that meant anything because she never did. He heard the toilet flush and the shower come on. That was enough of an invitation for him.
   They went out for waffles. They had fruit on them, they had whipped cream, they had syrup, they had the most decadent breakfast he'd seen. They ordered whatever they wanted and only ate part of anything. They stayed at the table for over an hour. The waitress didn't seem to mind, she liked it when couples enjoyed themselves and ran up a large bill, because it meant a large tip. She kept checking on them and discussing which things they liked and why. They finished it off by splitting a rich, chocolate dessert the waitress suggested.
   They went to the field museum and sat talking on the front steps for hours. Woody felt like they should go in and look at some of the exhibits, but she seemed happy just to sit and watch people go by. They played games by guessing things about the patrons as they cam e and went. Woody found that she wasn't sarcastic all the time and that she had a surprisingly subtle sense of humor. They didn't always understand each other's references, but it usually only took a few words to clarify. By the time it started getting dark, Woody felt like they'd known each other for years. He'd never thought people from such different backgrounds could be so comfortable with each other. He told her he loved her several times through out the day, she didn't say anything back, and he didn't mind.
   They went back to his place and ordered more pizza than they could hope to eat because that's what she wanted. They ate pizza and drank all the grape juice he had in the place, went out for more, and ended up laying on the floor watching people race motorcycles around the city streets somewhere in France, or maybe Spain. She had picked the channel.
   Woody had his head propped up against the sofa, while she was sort of cross-wise with her head on his ribs. He was feeling kind of fat and happy, and might have been in danger of falling asleep when he remembered the important question from that morning.
   "So what's special about today, anyway?" She grabbed a piece of pepperoni and put it in her mouth. "You said you'd tell me later. C'mon, give."
   She chewed and swallowed. "It's my birthday. You try to spank me and I'll kick your ass."
   He could tell she was smiling. He slid his hand down onto her butt. "I don't know, that might be fun."
   She rolled over onto his arm so she faced him. She gave him the finger and a smile. "Try it."
   "How old are you?"
   "Does it matter?"
   He thought about it for a moment. "No, I guess not. It's just that people ask." He thought about it for another minute. "Well, I don't know. As long as the difference isn't more than ten years, I guess it's fine with me."
   "Isn't that kind of stupid?"
   He smiled and nodded. "Probably. I guess I'm just old fashioned about some things."
   "Well, don't worry, it's not that big a difference."
   "How big? Wait, it really doesn't matter. You're making my hand start to tingle, you know"
   She looked into his eyes and her expression went from playful girl to serious woman, her smile faded a bit then widened. It's only six months difference."
   "Which way?"
   "I'm younger, but don't let it go to your head. I'm still in charge around here, and don't you forget it."
   "Yes, Maam. Permission to spank the birthday girl, Maam?"
   "A spanking isn't what I want." She let up on his arm.
   
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Seven
   
   Part of Rausch's job was to personally check the security of corporate headquarters at least once a month. At first, it seemed like an unnecessary imposition designed to make Motor feel safe. After doing it once, he realized it was a great chance to get out of the office and poke around. He could get all sorts of things done without anyone being the wiser. Today, he was checking the exterior building security. It was a great excuse to talk to people on their break.
   He stopped next to a guy with silver skin and wire hair while pretending to make notes about the landscaping. The wire hair guy just kept drinking his coffee. Rausch spoke to his data pad.
   "How's it going?"
   "About like you'd expect," wire guy said into his cup.
   "Anything usable?"
   "Nothing the law would move on, but plenty the board would fry him for. I'm collecting quite a file. I'll let you know when I run out of things to add. Or tell m e if you need it sooner." He checked his watch and went back to work. Rausch really made a few notes about alterations to the landscaping to improve sight lines to the property edge, before he moved on.
   
   Detective Rand sat at the picnic table trying to make sense of the situation. Corporate CEOs didn't just come to hot dog places with only one body guard to meet people like him. Especially ones like Meridith Wilson. She rarely came down from her ivory tower to attend charity functions she was sponsoring, much less for oops who were looking to put her away.
   "I assure you Detective, that no one associated with DBP International would condone, much less initiate, such deplorable criminal action." She took a dainty bite of her sauerkraut brat without getting any on her manicured nails. Rand put some home fries in his mouth to avoid having to say anything, and decided that she had more to her looks than expensive salons and designer clothes. She set the bratwurst down and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Let's suppose for a moment that, hypothetically, our company were to take this sort of action. I have to assume that it would have to be provoked by the worst sort of spurious attack. It would take a conspiracy of great proportion including quite a large amount of manufactured evidence and testimony to push a company like mine into action as drastic and irrevocable as the appalling crimes that took place in the Lake Hotel. We would have to be facing financial ruin to even contemplate such a thing, and to the best of my knowledge, we never have. "So you were forced into a corner. You're not the bad guys in all this?"
   "We don't conduct business that way. If I were a diligent enforcer of the law; such as yourself, I might find it productive to look in other directions. There are some people at my level of business acumen who are far less scrupulous. Some have even been know to target their own personnel in order to lay blame where it doesn't belong."
   "Let's not play word games. You want m e to leave you alone and go after Motor Santra. Have you got anything I can use?"
   "Are you the kind of person who could be trusted to do the right thing with that sort of information if it happened to become available?"
   "All right. I'm not letting you off the hook just yet, but you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. Good enough?"
   It's been a real pleasure meeting you, Detective. If there's ever anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to let me know." She smiled warmly and shook his hand before striding to her limousine. She took the brat worst with her. Rand would have to remember to be careful around that one. She could charm a rattle snake out of its own skin if she wanted to.
   
   Victor sat behind his desk looking through human resources files. The director of HR needed a good kick to the head. What kind of people were they hiring? Uneducated slackers and trouble makers from the looks of things. It was about time they cleaned house. He started marking files for Rausch to review, he made sure the HRD was at the top. As long as DBP was getting the blame they might as well make a dean sweep. No severance package, no re-training programs, just insurance the company had already paid for. He realized they couldn't dispose of all the people he wanted, but that was hardly his problem. He'd just give the list to Rausch and make him narrow it down to whatever he though was an acceptable number. And if Rausch was wrong about it, well, he could be on the next list.
   Victor stayed in his office until well after dark going through management lists, and playing god with people's lives. And why shouldn't he, they had all signed the same company loyalty/non-disclosure agreement when they came to work here. They owed all their belongings, their ability to feed themselves, even their very existence to the company. And who was the company if not Victor Santra? Those weak-kneed old has-beens on the board? They couldn't decide what color the sky was without him holding their hands and telling them it would all be okay. No, he was in charge here for a reason.
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Eight
   
   Woody was walking down the hall alter his last class when Principal Huber came up along side him, sweaty from the simple effort of catching up. He slowed to match Woody space as soon as he was sure he'd caught his eye. Woody wasn't really interested in what Huber had to say, but what could it hurt to give the guy a few minutes?
   "Hey Woody, I've been meaning update you on the new security situation. We're going with the new alarms, metal detectors, computer upgrades, even the old safe is going. Pretty much the whole recommended package. Well, there are a couple things that will have to wait until next summer, but as soon as school is out, we're getting on it."
   "That's great. Glad I could help, even though I really didn't do anything but put the proposal in your box."
"Nonsense. Your friend has been very thorough and professional. She's even recommended contractors who'll work with us to stay in our meager budget. I think I can convince the superintendent and the board to have her back for a final inspection this summer alter all the equipment is in place. Nice work." Huber gave him a sly look and an el bow gesture. "You did pretty well for yourself there, eh?"
   Woody shrugged slightly. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You don't think it's a conflict if I'm dating somebody the district hired for such sensitive work?"
   "Don't be silly. You two make a great looking couple. I'm just glad you didn't keep her to yourself."
   What?"
   "You two have each other and we get great work at very affordable prices. I'm glad you sent her to us."
   "Wait, you didn't hire her from the net ads, or something?"
   "No, she cam e to us. Why, what did she tell you?"
   "Nothing really. We never got into it, I guess. Wait a minute. You thought I sent her here? Why?"
   "Well, I just assumed I guess. You two are a couple aren't you?" Woody nodded. "Well, she came to us right at a time when we were just starting to talk about school security and when she made an appointment to give her report, she asked for you. I've seen the two of you together a couple times, and it just seemed to make sense."
   Woody frowned. "No, that was the first time I met her. Here at the school." He pondered for a moment. "She asked for me? By Name? Specifically?"
   "Well, not exactly. But she picked a time and day when the only people who could meet with her were the custodial staff, old Mrs. Simpkins, and you. I thought you two had arranged that before hand. It's no big deal, really. Like I said, great work, great prices. Hey, that reminds me. I really appreciate her giving the school such a good deal, but you tell her that if those are her regular prices she isn't charging enough for the quality of her work. Tell her that, all right?" He punched Woody lightly in the upper arm. "Well, I have to make it to a meeting in twenty minutes. See you tomorrow."
   Woody slowed to as Huber went around the corner. He had a lot to think about. There were definitely some things he needed to know
   On the drive home, he didn't mind so much when other drivers did all the usual stupid things that just slowed traffic to a crawl. It gave him more time to think. He had to decide what he was going to do before he got home. She had never surprised him in the car, it was the one place he had to himself right now. The right thing to do was just to ask her up front. But every time he tried to ask her anything she just side stepped and changed the subject. He always felt like he was the bad guy for making her so uncomfortable. He hadn't ever pressed her enough to make her angry with him, but what if he did this time?
   He thought about hiring a private Investigator, but gave that thought up almost immediately. He was pretty sure those people were expensive and the chances they'd find out anything were thin. That would probably just get somebody hurt. Or worse. Maybe even him.
   He wished he had a way to talk to that guy, Mike. He knew her about as well as anybody did, it seemed. He might not have the answers Woody wanted, but he might know where to start and how to get them. But there was no way he would even attempt to get inside the Zone by himself. So he was back to asking her directly. He could feel his neck starting to sweat just thinking about it. He could imagine that conversation going a lot of different ways, some of them turned out fine. But just because he could imagine it didn't make it likely. The chances are he would be in for a rough time going that way. He didn't think she would really hurt him, if she wanted to do that she would have already. But he could see many of the scenarios in his head leading to the two of them going their separate ways. He'd almost rather have her hit him.
   He parked in his space and got on the elevator. As he rode upwards, he decided he would have something to eat and calm himself before he called her. He got off the elevator and walked down the hall to his door. He put his hand on the look and paused.
   Nothing. He opened the door and found the lights on. As he stepped inside, he heard noises from the kitchen. He closed the door quietly and set his case on the floor. He thought about taking off his shoes, but he realized she had to know he was there already and he'd just look stupid trying to sneak up on her. He took a breath and walked calmly to the kitchen doorway.
   She had almost all the cooking gear he owned out on the counter and the floor. There were chopped things and spilled bits of vegetables on the cutting board and the trash can was full of wrappers and shopping bags. She had a very small computer hanging from the upper cabinet handles. She didn't look away from it, but he could hear the frustration in her voice.
   "Why can't you fuckers just call it an onion?"
   Woody felt his mouth lift into a smile. "Whatcha doin?"
   She turned her head towards him. "You think this is funny?"
   "Well ...not like that. Most people don't have this much stuff on the floor when they cook. And I've never seen you do anything you couldn't master in about ten seconds." She didn't look mollified. "Look, what if you came over and I had that gun of yours with the clear magazine apart in about a million pieces on the living room floor. It wouldn't be funny that I couldn't put it back together, but it might be funny to watch m e try. Or like when somebody slips and falls. That's not funny, but it looks funny, you know?"
   Her face still looked angry, but her body relaxed. I hope you aren't hungry. I think I wasted enough stuff here to feed both of us for a week."
   It occurred to him that where she came from food didn't come from the store and it was more valuable than anything except dean water. He could understand her frustration better in that light. He took off his tie and tossed it in the other room. "Let's see what we can save, eh?" He stepped carefully over the pots and pans on the floor and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.
   All the questions he had thought about on the way home seemed less important, now He was still wondering about the way they met and why she had chosen him the way she had, but he wasn't worried about whether he could trust her. He felt a little guilty for doubting her in the first place. Those questions could wart for another time, right now he wanted to concentrate on helping her lighten up on herself a bit. Maybe he could help her see all the things she had going further, rather than all that might be against her.
   
   
   Chapter Twenty Nine
   
   Dinner had gone all right and they had managed to save most of the food she'd brought. That had lightened her mood considerably and they settled in on the sofa to watch movies.
   "What kind do you want to watch?" He was feeling very generous tonight.
   "What kinds are there?"
   "Oh. Well, action movies, comedy, drama, horror, sci-fi, mystery, romance, pretty much anything you can think up is out there somewhere. We can watch stuff in about a dozen different languages if we want to."
   "You pick one."
   He guessed she was out of her depth and didn't want to expose herself. He scrolled through the menu choices for a few minutes. He considered what might upset her and what might appeal to her the most, but found he was out of his depth, so he finally picked a fairly new crime drama that looked interesting. They watched in silence for the first hour.
   "Are all your movies this stupid?"
   What do you mean? And it's not really my movie."
   "You know what I mean. Look, your detective is a boner. She's all happy and nice to people. She doesn't ask the right questions. She's already talked to the killer twice. And that's not what it looks like when somebody gets slashed dead. There's too much blood, and it's the wrong color. And your killer. Those kind of people don't stop after one hit, they need more. This is stupid."
   "Okay. What would you rather watch?"
   "Anything but this." She wasn't showing signs of anger, just disgust.
   He went back to the menu. He decided something that had been around the block a few times might be better. Something time had tested and passed might be less likely to draw her scorn. He finally found what he was looking for and punched the button. As the opening credits vent by she seemed more interested.
   "What happened to the colors?"
   "It's a very old movie. It was made about halfway through the last century, they hadn't figured out how to make them in color yet."
   They watched on quietly. He could see expressions of understanding as the gendarme rounded up people for questioning and shot the one who tried to run. As they watched the rest, he could tell she understood almost all of what vent on. She didn't ask about the parts she didn't understand, they were just background and setting. The story was dear.
   After it ended, she was quiet and he could tell she was still absorbing the motives that made the characters make the choices they did.
   "So. Better?"
   "Yeah. I think rather be Rick than that Victor guy."
   "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about something I heard today."
   "Like what?"
   "Well, I talked to Mr. Huber today and he's very happy with your work. In fact, he thinks you should raise your rates." She looked pleased without actually smiling. "He said some things that confuse me about the way you and I met."
   "Ate you gonna visit your sister when school gets over?"
   "Don't do that, please. I really want to talk to you about this."
   "A little less conversation, a little more action please."
   I'm not willing to let you just change the subject. It's important to me to know about this. You could try trusting me a little bit."
   She just looked at him blankly. He thought about how to make his point to her. It finally came to him.
   I'm on this until you tell me."
   What?"
   "Huber made it sound like you had me singled out from the start. Is that right?"
   "Not exactly."
   "Talk to me. You picked the school, not the other way around?"
   "Yeah. I picked out a lot of places that had shit for security. Stuff far away from big companies. I needed to keep my head down, but I needed to work."
   "Okay. Once the school hired you, why me?"
   She seemed to be taking her time with that one, maybe even struggling with what to say. "The truth? Cross my heart?"
   "Yes. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
   "You weren't ripping the place off. I figured you might be okay. You have your dojo, I figured you might get me. Aid I thought you were kind of cute." She looked as nervous as she ever got.
   Woody smiled. "Really? Me? Cool."
   "Don't let it go to your head."
   "Okay. But you thought I was a good guy before we even met?"
   "Yeah, until just now."
   "Sorry. It's just that I've always tried to do the right thing and nobody ever told me I was doing a good job except my mother. That means a lot to me."
   "You are so squishy."
   "Yeah? You aren't as much of a hardass as you make out to be. I know you. You're tough because you have to be, but you've got feelings in there too." She looked at him sharply. "Oh, relax. I like you both ways. Don't you get that yet? I like you for you, not for the stuff you do or don't do. Come here." He hugged her and kissed her once on the lips. "You can s trying to run me off anytime you want. I'm not going away that easily. Sneaking into buildings in the night and start living your own life. Change the chances you take. I don't understand why you think it would be better to get killed than to get hurt."
   She put her head on his shoulder.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty
   
   Detective Rand stopped just inside the cafe door and shook off most of the rain he was wearing. He stopped at the counter to get a coffee before taking a seat at Chaser's table in the corner. Same olive jacket, same hair, but not the same bored look on his face.
   What's up Chaser?"
   "I have data. Maybe good data."
   "Like what? Is this about that thing we talked about?"
   "Yeah. I've been doing some digging, and I found some interesting things. First, there's an employee over at NexTech who seems to have a very large interest in your bad guy. There's a file, not particularly well protected, with a lot of very nasty dirt on Mr. Santra. It would appear that somebody wants to take him before the board and trash his career. This is the kind of stuff that would be a public relations disaster for the company and they would have no choice but to toss him if it got out, no matter how much money he makes them. I don't think the person collecting the info has much to gain, outside of a personal vendetta."
   "So somebody wants to leverage Victor out of the company, huh? They never learn do they?"
   "You know who it is?"
   "I think so. I told this idiot not to screw around with this. He's gonna get killed. He was supposed to work with me so I could bring him in when it got hot. What else?"
   "I won't look directly at the dark lings because I like my blood where it is now, but I have been taking a look at the watchers. There's a whole bunch of rabid fans of these people and the work they do. Most of them are just big dreaming wanna-bees who think this kind of life is cool or some shit. But there are a few hard core watchers who have better sources and better brains. They have charts and graphs, they have style-o-meters. Some of the darklings have distinct styles that are discernible over time if you watch carefully enough. According to the watchers, the objective ones, the darkling who hit the Lake Hotel hasn't touched a thing since. Poof, gone, into the wind. If somebody got to him, there'd be ripples in the community, but there's nothing. This is highly unusual."
   "Maybe he retired. People do."
   "Not these people. The kind of people who get into this line of work don't quit until they're dead. Something very strange is going on. You should keep some distance from this if you can. I have a bad feeling about what's coming down the pipe. You could get into trouble, final type trouble, just walking around knowing too much. Watch yourself."
   "Thanks, but if I'd ever been a real threat to them we wouldn't be having this conversation. If I ever even got dose to them, I think they'd be too surprised to do anything." He sipped his coffee. "See what you can find out about the leverage crap over at NexTech. The guy behind it will likely be Rausch, current head of security. Don't expose him until I find out if the jerk is wiling to help me or not. And don't spend to much time playing with fire yourself, okay?"
   "Yeah."
   Rand downed his coffee and left the cafe. Rausch was turning out to be an even bigger idiot than expected. He really wanted to arrange a meeting with this bozo just so he could slap some sense into him.
   Chaser sat thinking about what could be going on in the shadows and who might be willing to pay for the info. And how much they might pay if he could find the right clients. He hadn't gotten his handle for sitting back and watching things go by.
   Rausch sat at his desk reading the security team reports from the rash of employees that seemed to be meeting mysterious, violent ends lately. He smiled to himself when he thought about how much it must piss off the cops that they all lived in corporate housing that had the same extra-territoriality the rest of the corporation enjoyed. So the cops had to put up with the company sec-team looking over their shoulder if they wanted to investigate. AI the work was dean and professional, but none of it really seemed like the same style as the hotel hit had been. These jobs were all fairly efficient, but somehow they lacked the advanced technical expertise and poise that he was looking for. Even the jobs that called for difficult penetrations had been subjected m ore to brute force and speed than deliberate stealth. None of these dark lings was the one he had to find. He had plans for that one special darkling. Not the plans Victor had, but different, special plans. Plans Victor wouldn't like.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty One
   
   Big Mike turned and stood up from sweeping behind his bar to find Shatter standing on the other side. It was too early in the day for any of the usual patrons.
   "Shit, girl. No matter how many times you do that, it still creeps me out."
   "I got your message. What's coming down?"
   "I'm fine, How are you? I got word on a guy who's been putting a lot of effort into watching the watchers. He seems to have a real Jones for one particular darkling. So somebody is keeping an eye on him and he goes to meet with a cop. Turns out it's the same cop in charge of investigating some bad stuff at a hotel a while back. Doesn't sound like they know too much yet, but I wouldn't want to bet your life on it. So I pass it along to you. You decide what you gotta do about it. I don't really want to know." He handed her a small object wrapped in doth.
   She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek as she took it. "Thanks, Mike." She was gone before he finished telling her to be careful.
   Woody was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the battered, old toy that was supposed to be a hedge hog. He was trying to reconcile all the different things and people Bethany seemed to be. He knew enough to wonder about the rest. He wondered if that was even her real name. Did it really m after? He was re-learning what it meant to trust someone. She didn't tell him the things regular people did, but she told him things no one else could. It mattered more if those things were valuable or dangerous to her than to him, but it was so hard to be sure sometimes.
   He felt the bed move. He tried to keep calm as he turned around, but he knew she could tell that she had startled him. She was leaning up against a pillow against the headboard with her face design showing. She still had the long brown hair and regular clothes, so he relaxed a bit. "I like your other face better."
   She changed it back, "About that promise I made."
   "Yeah? Have you had to break it? Not that kid from the roof?"
   "No. He never saw anything. If he had, I would have dropped him there. Never leave a living witness. That's the rule."
   "Sounds like there's a story there."
   "Yeah. Early on, I let one live. Until I found out how bad it gets. From all sides. Nobody wants us out in the light."
   "So who's the problem now?"
   "Not a witness. Not yet. But there's a guy who's starting to know too much. He might be looking in places he shouldn't. It falls to me to fix it."
   "Well, I can't tell you what to do. I don't really want to hear the details, but I trust you. You'll do only what you have to, nothing more. Nothing less."
   "Do you have to be so spineless?"
   "What do you mean? I'm trying to be supportive. I don't like the idea that you kill people, but I know you want to s. Will this be the last one?"
   "How the fuck would I know?"
   "Well, I don't see howl would know more about it than you. Can you try to make it the last one? Is there anyway you can do something other than kill him?"
   "Like what? Move to the moon?"
   "I don't know. Is there some other kind of leverage you could use to keep him out of it?"
   "Yeah. Aid whatever I use to bend him, somebody can bend him harder. It goes on until he's dead. I know."
   "Okay, I don't know what to tell you. I don't really have much experience with this kind of thing. I've never been in this kind of bind."
   "Fuck you."
   "I didn't mean it like that. I wish I had some great insight, but I'm in the dark here. This isn't a situation I have any experience in. I'd be guessing, and I'd hate to do that when lives are at stake. I don't know how to help."
   "Sometimes it's make a choice or the world smashes you."
   "Well, I guess I might get smashed then. I can't just charge ahead and make life or death decisions without some kind of knowledge base to work from."
   "Nobody asked you to." She got up. "How can you stand being such a squid?" She left the room. Woody got up and followed her. She wasn't going so fast that he couldn't, so he figured he'd better. They stopped in the kitchen and he waited while she got a vitamin drink out of the fridge and finished it. She tossed the empty container in the sink and stared at him as if she were waiting for him to complain. He leaned against the doorway and tried to decide what to say. A silent moment crept by before she pushed past him with a snort. He turned and watched her as she headed for the door. She stopped and worked the lock with deliberation and spoke over her shoulder without looking back. "I'll let you know how it all turns out."
   Then she slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind her. Woody stood Where he was for quite a while, trying to decide what he should do now. He kept thinking up other ways the conversation could have gone, should have gone, if he'd been thinking more clearly. It stunk that he could always think of the right thing to say, after it was too late to say it. He finally drifted back to reality and realized that he might as well sit down. He turned on the babble box and started surfing channels. He finally stopped clicking when he landed on the 24 hour, city-wide news. He didn't really think he would see anything about her, but he had to watch anyway.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty Two
   
   Something had awakened him, he felt like he did when a loud noise startled him out of a sound sleep. It was quiet though, so maybe it was just some cop reflex or a bad dream. Rand rolled over to look at the clock and got the shock of his life. There was someone sitting in a chair at his bedside. The light wasn't good, but he could see enough to tell it was a woman with short hair and some sort of mask over her face. He slid his hand under the pillow for his gun. It wasn't there. In thirty years, he had only knocked it out of the bed three times. He knew this wasn't the fourth.
   "Who are you and what do you want?" He could really use a glass of water.
   "The angel of death. I'm hereto save your life."
   "How? Why?"
   "If anybody besides me finds out that you're after us, you won't last an hour. Back off and go for the company weasels. Choose to live."
   "Anybody like who?"
   "Three guesses. How did I get in here?"
   "Okay." He wiped at the comers of his eyes. "I got a pretty good idea who you are. I thought you'd be a man. Anyway. I'm not after you, I'm just being thorough. It is m y job, after all."
   "Is your job worth your life?"
   "So why am I still alive now?"
   "It's complicated. There are debts and promises. You don't know what you're into. You don't want to know. Let it go." She sounded like she really meant it. She got up to leave and he grabbed her long coat. He meant to ask her questions, she could probably dear half his open cases in two minutes.
   That wasn't what happened. It was like being in a car crash, you could see it happen but it was too fast for your body to react. She spun around pulled his hand free without effort, pushed it against the headboard, and pinned it there with one of his steak knives. His focus shifted to his injured hand for a second and she was gone. Just gone. He could feel the knife shifting in there so he tried to hold as still as he could. He didn't want to make it any worse. It took him several minutes to plan his next moves and gather his courage before he was ready to pull the knife out. He shook a pillow out of the case so he could wrap his hand and help s the bleeding. He grasped the knife gave it a yank. It was in there deep. He ended up having to work it back and forth like a stuck hatchet to get it out. There was a lot of blood, but not enough to threaten his life. He put pressure on the wound and held his hand above his shoulder.
   He though about calling for an ambulance, but there would be paper work and questions. He decided to just tape it up and drive himself in. He could clean this up later. He went for the first aid kit in the bath. Along the way he found that his suede recliner looked like it had gone through a shredder. Then he found that the entire contents of his kitchen cabinets and drawers and been emptied and neatly stacked in the middle of the floor. Somebody was telling him how long she'd been here before she got bored enough to wake him up. He was starting to get the point. Maybe early retirement wasn't such a bad idea.
   Later, he would come home after telling the ER Doctors a story about tripping and falling on the knife, and find all three of his guns in the toilet tank. He searched the place for bugs or hidden cameras and didn't find any, but who knew what these people were capable of. He did know that he didn't feel safe here any more. He wasn't sure he'd feel safe anywhere on this continent.
   
   Rausch walked forward another fifty meters and checked his position again. He was a little too far west. He turned down the alley, walked about halfway to the other street, and checked the coordinates. He was dose now, he looked around for dues. This was a stupid way to arrange a meet, there would have to be something good at the end of this wild goose chase. He checked again, and decided the featureless steel door must be where he was supposed to go. He knocked, knowing it would make his security detail go into overdrive if he went inside by himself. Well, that's what they got paid for after all.
   The door opened a hand's width. A voice questioned him from the darkness within. "Did you come alone?"
   "Did you?"
   The door opened further. "Get inside. Quickly."
   Rausch stepped in, feeling vulnerable in the darkness. It would take a moment for his eyes to adjust. The door clicked shut behind him and a weak light came on overhead. There was only one person in the small, dingy room with him, a man with unruly hair in a large green surplus jacket and jeans. As Rausch took in the empty storage room the man put his hands into his jacket pockets. "My people are in the next room and yours are outside, let's both act like adults, okay?" Rausch only nodded. "I have something you want. You can give me something I need. We both make out on the good side."
   "What have you got that I would want?"
   "I know who and what you're looking for. I know where you can find the answers you want. I need to go very far away for a while, especially if I tell you this."
   "So you need a travel agent. What are you offering?"
   The man was getting agitated. I need money. Enough to get a new face, a new identity, a new life. You know what that costs. I have the key piece of your puzzle. I don't want it, but I can't sell it cheaply. Too many lives hang on it. Are we making a transaction here or are you jerking me around because you're bored? There are other people I can sell this to, I just figured you wanted it the most. So buy or s wasting my time."
   "How do I know your info is good. You'll be into the wind by the time I find out."
   "Oh, fuck you man. I can tell you where to find the one person who knows all about your favorite darkling, you know how hard that is. Buy it or fuck off."
   "All right. How do you want the money?"
   It turned out to be less than Rausch's yearly salary, in the greater corporate picture it wasn't very much. If it turned to be the real thing it was worth many times that to him.
   He looked up all the available information when he got home. This wasn't anything the office needed to know about just yet. He made a call to a free-lance deniable asset he'd used before and arranged a meeting in a little restaurant he knew to be safe.
   They met at the salad bar like total strangers. Rausch passed the info nonchalantly and instructed the m an in a whisper. "Use a team you can trust completely. Check this guy out. Secure him at the address in the packet. Inform me. No one else. Understood?" The man only nodded as he put croutons on his greens.
   Rausch ate his meal slowly while reading the business news. All he had to do was act normal and keep calm while he waited. Things were going just the way he'd envisioned them. Soon, he'd have all the leverage he'd ever need.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty Three
   
   Bethany entered the apartment and knew immediately she was alone. She shut the door and pulled her data pad out. She already knew Woody's car was still in the garage and began checking the building cameras. She hadn't added any to his apartment because she felt like she had to trust him at least that fat. She picked him up on replay from several hours ago. He left on loot and by himself. She checked his calls and found none. So all she knew was when he left and which direction he went. He'd been gone long enough that the search radius would be impossible to cover by herself. She didn't want to bring anybody else in on this because it would expose them both.
   She checked the video records from the school and his dojo He hadn't gone to either. His family was all too far away to walk and there was no reason he would take public transport and have them pick him up when he had a working car. She had to assume he was just taking a walk or going to the store. She set the pad to scan the building feed and sat on the sofa. She hadn't thought to turn on the lights.
   She didn't have to wait very long, but doing nothing always felt like forever to her. It was only twenty minutes before he appeared on camera. She watched him until the elevator opened, then put the pad a way. She stood in the middle of the beige carpet and waited for the do or to open.
   Woody opened the door and turned on the lights to find her standing there like some sort of statue. He gave the door a shove closed and went over to her.
   "What's wrong?"
   "I didn't kill him. Where were you?"
   "I went for a walk. I was just sitting here making myself crazy thinking about the whole thing, so I want out for some air. It's a nice night and I thought if I got a little exercise I might be able to get to sleep. I'm glad you didn't kill anyone. Is that going to leave you in a bind?"
   "I think I made my point. We'll see ho wit turns out. Sorry if I was rude before."
"Think nothing of it. I should have been m ore understanding. I know about your life before and it's naive of me to think you could just turn it off like a switch. There has to be a transition period. I know I have to make some adjustments too. I guess I kind of thought you were giving up that life and coming over to mine, but it's not like that. We have to work out something that's new to both of us that works for both of us."
   "Well, duh."
   "Yeah, so you get right to it and I have to kind of wander into things. I'm re-learning how to think because of you. I hope I can do something as useful for you."
   "You already are."
   "I did teach you how to play mini-golf didn't I?"
   She smiled and took her coat off, retrieving something from an inside pocket before she dropped it on the floor. "I want you to promise something for me."
   "I kind of thought I already....." His heart beat three times.
   "Anything."
   "I want you to have this." She put a chain over his head that had some kind of South American looking silver pendant on it. "Promise me you'll never take it off."
   He looked at it in the light before he put in inside his shirt. "Done. It's nice, is there a story with it?"
   "It gets you into paradise in the afterlife."
   What about you? Shouldn't you keep it?"
   "I haven't earned mine yet. If I know anybody whose deserves it, it's you. Never take it off. You promised."
   "I did. I'll never let it go. Like you. I'll never let you go either. I plan on loving you for at least a lifetime after I'm dead. Do you want to stay here tonight? It is kind a late."
   She nodded and went for the first turn at the bathroom. Woody pulled the pendant back out and looked at it, smiling to himself. "Hey, you wanna meet me for lunch tomorrow?" He had spoken in a normal voice as he walked to wards the bedroom. She appeared at his elbow as he passed the bathroom door.
   "I can't. I have to do a job." He turned. "A legit one. I might even get paid. Be happy."
   "I am. I'm sorry I made you promise not to kill anyone. I didn't mean it that literally. I didn't realize the kind of trouble it could give you. I guess I should have asked you not to kill anyone that doesn't deserve it, but I think you already do that. I hope nothing bad comes your way.... our way, because of me. You do what you have to, okay?"
   "I will. You know it. Anything bad comes down, it has to deal with me."
   "You know, when I first met you, I was kind of afraid of you. Now I'm kind of afraid for you."
   "Why?"
   I've never known anybody more physically able or more dangerous than you. But I winder about what you've had to do to yourself to get there. I want to do everything I can to help you s living out there on the edge. I don't want you to tall off."
   "Thanks. That's what I want, too."
   "Are you sure you can't find time for lunch tomorrow?"
   "I'm not ready to meet your dad yet. Nice try."
   "Okay. Maybe later. Are you tired?"
   She nodded and slid her arm around his waist as they moved to the bed. Woody would fall asleep in minutes, while she would stay awake thinking about all the ways her life had changed over the years and all the changes she still wanted to make.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty Four
   
   Woody arrived a few minutes early for lunch and didn't see Bob, so he wandered over to the bar to wait. He wasn't much of a drinker, but a beer sounded good right now He was about a third of the way through it when his phone rang. It was Bob.
   "Hey, Woody. I'm still down here at the job site. Somebody got into the place and trashed it up, graffitied several floors, and left a dead O.D. behind. The cops are here taking statements from everybody who had keys and codes, but they don't seem to be in a hurry. Looks like I'm going to have to pass on lunch. Maybe in a few days?"
   "Yeah. No problem. Was it anyone anybody knew?"
   "Nah, looks like some homeless kids. Kind of a waste."
   "Well, do what you have to and I'll call you in a couple days."
   "Later."
   "Yup." Woody hung up and decided to have a sand wren at the bar since he was here already. No need to hog a whole table. He was just picking up his Ruben on rye when a tired looking guy in a well-worn suit sat down a couple places over. They were the only ones at the bar this time of day on the weekend. The guy nodded to Woody as he looked at the menu. Woody nodded back. The guy placed his order and shoved the menu back into the napkin rack before he looked around again.
   "How's the food in here?"
   Woody thought about it for a couple seconds before he answered. "Pretty good. I've only been here a half-a-dozen times myself. I was supposed to meet my step-dad but he got tied up with work."
   "Work." The man snorted. "Seemed like that's all I do anymore. I'm starting to regret taking on a project this size."
   "What kind of project?"
   "Oh, this foundation I've done some contract work for got a large grant from the estate of a deceased CEO with a heavy conscious to put together a school for gifted kids. They offered me the job, and I wasn't going to make partner at my old firm anytime soon so I took it. I had no idea it was going to be such a ball buster at the time. Property acquisition I can do, but getting it remodeled is a nightmare. The construction workers have their hands in one of my pockets and the inspectors and code officials have theirs in the other. If I have enough funding left to finish staffing the place it'll be a miracle."
   "Where is your building?"
   "It's an old warehouse down off 95th street. I know, not such a great neighborhood, but the city gave us all sorts of incentives to help revitalize the community.' I have to take all the breaks I can get. I've been going over administrators resumes and I think I'm in the wrong business. I hope teachers don't want that kind of money, or this is over before it gets started."
   "Oh, they want that kind of money, but none of them expects to get it."
   "That's a relief. You know much about schools?"
   "A little. I teach High School Social Studies." He put his hand out. "Hidoshi Woodson, but everybody calls me Woody."
   "John Tennabray, Attorney at Law." They shook hands. "Hey, you work down in the trenches, would you be willing to give me an opinion or two and reassure me that I'm not going nuts on this thing?"
   "Sure."
   "Great. Hey, would you be willing to take a look at the building some time? The architect assures me that we have the perfect student-to-area ratio with these partition walls he's laid out, but they look kind of small to me."
   Woody was interested, but he wasn't sure he wanted the ongoing relationship that came with exchanging numbers. "How about alter lunch? My plans for the day are kind of open again."
   "That'd be great! Let me get your bill, it's the least I can do for putting up with me. It all goes on the expense account anyway."
   Woody accepted readily. Maybe there was a job in this somewhere down the line. He thought about how great it would be to work with kids that wanted to be there and understood the material. Maybe he could get his loot in the door early.
   They talked about how schools were run, and how they should be run, through the rest of lunch. John paid and they went to look at the property. John offered to drive since he had the foundation's car and Woody was being so helpful. Woody thought John should have done a bit more research into the education business before he dove into this kind of project, but he had seen that kind of attitude in lawyers before. He had to give John credit, he knew his own limitations and was open minded about learning more. He listened to Woody and soaked it all up like a sponge.
   When they pulled up to the fence, Woody got a good look at the place. It was old, but it looked like somebody had kept it up. There were still windows in it, though he could only see one side of the building. It was almost as big as the building he worked in, plenty of space for both kids and teachers. He was eager to look around. John finally managed to get the gate unlocked and then locked again alter they were inside. Woody wondered how they were planning to secure the place in a neighborhood like this, as they walked to the door.
   John got the thing open on the third try and showed Woody inside. Woody was just starting to wonder why there were still half-full racks and forklifts in here when John pulled something out of his pocket and sprayed it in Woody's face. He was really more puzzled than anything else as his consciousness faded and John reached out to help control his fall.
   
   Detective Rand felt conspicuously out of place sitting at the best table in a five star restaurant. A guy never got to go this nice on a cop's pay. It wasn't that he was ashamed to be seen here, but somebody else was obviously paying for his meal and that meant he was giving up some control. He was happier at this kind of meeting when he got to bring his own cards, you never knew if the other guy had stacked the deck.
He saw Meredith Wilson come through the front door with her assistant and bodyguards. He was still a bit skeptical that she was willing to meet him after only one call. These kind of people usually ran you around a while before they gave you access. So maybe he had something she wanted alter all. Her entourage waited out by the coat check counter while she came straight for the table as if she owned it. Who knew, maybe she did.
   Rand stood as she approached. She shook his hand warmly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Detective. Please sit." She took her seat just enough before him to be lady-like without looking aggressive or selfish. Rand continued to be impressed by this woman, but reminded himself not to be swayed just because she was rich, powerful, and charming. Within seconds, the salad course arrived even though neither of them had seen a menu. Maybe being rich wasn't so bad.
   After things were settled in on the table and the wait staff had vanished again, Rand decided to plunge right in. "I think your company is missing something."
   "Oh? Would you care to be more specific?" She popped a forkful of delicate greenery into her mouth.
   "I think you should have an official liaison between you and the police force so you don't have be so exposed by eating at hot dog stands."
   She speared a small piece of spiced chicken from her salad with her fork and held it out to him, smiling. He sighed slightly. "You're gonna make me work for this, aren't you?"
   "Life should be challenging, don't you think?" She nodded at the fork. He took it reluctantly. "I'm listening."
   "I'm thinking about retiring from the force. Unfortunately, I'm not comfortable with the low level of security I can get from a police pension."
   "I though you were a dedicated enforcer of the law. What's changed?"
   He brought his wounded hand up from under the table. "I guess I've had...a rude awakening."
   She affected a concerned expression. "Many of our mid and upper level positions do include company owned housing, staff, car, and driver. What are you offering?"
   "Twenty years of being a cop means I know a lot about who people are and what they do. I see a lot of things incidental to the case at hand." He tapped his forehead. "Information. Leverage."
   "I like you. You get right to the point. You're not afraid to go after what you want and not afraid to get your hands dirty." She smiled that winning smile again. "Bonded movers will be at your house before we finish dinner. Now you really must try the fried mushrooms, they're absolutely exquisite."
   Rand felt like a weight had been lifted. He wasn't foolish enough to think he wasn't going to have to earn his place with DBP, but at least he had a lair chance. It didn't hurt that the boss lady had hired him personally.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty Five
   
   Bethany got behind the wheel of her truck and pulled her pad out of its special pocket and organized the data she had spent much of the day collecting. A big department store chain had hired her to check their distribution warehouse because they thought one of the employees might be stealing. She had news, in six hours she had video of no less than eight of them taking things they weren't entitled to. As she got ready to upload it to the secure server they'd given her access to, she made sure to include a nasty little program from a hacker friend that would foul up the system just long enough to tell them how dangerous that kind of access was before it committed seppuku.
   She sent the package and scrolled through all the usual feeds and updates she checked almost compulsively. There was no activity on his door after he went out for lunch. Bob was too busy to spend the whole day unless it had been pre-arranged days in advance. He could have gone almost anywhere, but his habits were pretty predictable and something felt wrong to her. She checked the feeds from all the places he normally went. Nothing. After several minutes, she found a view of the street near the bar & grill where he was supposed to have lunch that showed his car still there with several tickets on the windshield.
   She fired up the engine and pulled out onto the street with anxious aggression. She had to have in lb, and she had to have it now. She didn't break any laws that would earn her an automatic s, but she let other divers know that they needed to get out of her way. Now. She made her way to an abandoned fast food place on 87th and pulled onto the weed infested concrete. She went around the back on foot. She knew what the perimeter security was like and she knew where it was weak. She climbed to the roof and popped the vent cover off. She didn't have time to be polite. She reached down and ripped the fan out, mounting and all. She dropped down the shaft into the darkness.
   When she landed lightly on the floor, there was a woman standing nearby with a large revolver and a startled expression. Shatter shitted out of the line of Are and took possession of the weapon before the woman could pull the trigger.
   "Sorry. I need your help."
   "Yeah. What the fuck?"
   Shatter handed the gun back and pulled a necklace out of her pocket. "I need you to find the other one of these."
   "It's your money. What's the frequency?"
   "It's not a transmitter. Too easy. It's a special isotope like the government uses."
   "You know what you're asking me to--"
   "Yes."
   "Can you afford that?"
   "Yeah. Can you pull it off?"
   "Oh, ye of little faith. Fuckin'-a-right I can." She went into the next room, motioning for Shatter to follow
   It took only minutes to crack the USGS systems but at most an hour to re-align the environmental satellite that was closest. The cowgirl busied herself with little details around her workspace until she realized that her guest wasn't moving, and only blinked every few minutes. After that they both waited quietly.
   Shatter watched the image appear with the little dot in the middle. She wasn't particularly good at reading Sat-image mapping so she kept quiet while the console cowgirl turned it into something she could make sense of.
   "Okay. Here's your lost jewelry. You've only got a few hours to maybe a day or so before it gets hot. Somebody is going to notice that their expensive toy went off course, and they'll be able to see what it was looking at. They're likely to send federal agents out there to start finding out what's up, when they discover that they can't track my trail."
   Shatter put her linger on the map. "Who owns this building?"
   "Give me a minute." It didn't take that long. "A company called NexTech. Huh. Usually they hide behind shells. Weird that they'd be so obvious."
   Tuck." She stood up. "Asshole."
   "You know these people? It says the CEO is a guy named Victor Santra. You have a history with him?"
   "Yeah. Drop the bomb."
   The cowgirl's head snapped around, making her optical cable thrash like a whip. "No shit?"
   "Do it. Do it now." Shatter was out of the room before the cowgirl could turn off her alarms. She heard breaking glass at the front door as the indicator lit. She sat for a few seconds collecting her thoughts.
   She knew what it meant to drop the bomb on somebody. Everybody in her business knew what it meant and how to do it, but nobody she knew had ever done it. She blew on her palms. It meant somebody was going to find out that dark lings might not all like each other, but they had each other's backs when it came to the rest of the world. Somebody wasn't going to live long enough to regret their mistake. Anybody at NexTech who was still alive tomorrow, and the rest of the corporate suits, would know why you never crossed that particular line twice. It meant the hounds of hell were coming.
   She flexed her fingers twice and jacked back in.
   
   Chapter Thirty Six
   
   Victor opened his own door and told the driver to get out of sight, but to stay nearby. As he neared the building, an entrance door built into an overhead door opened from the inside. Victor yanked the door away from the man inside to discover it was Rausch.
   "What the hell do you think you're up to here? Did you think I was unaware? Did you think you could operate outside my notice? Well?"
   As Victor came through, Rausch reached out and closed the door. "I would like to go on record that I think your presence here puts you and the company at unnecessary risk. I haven't reported to you yet because there isn't much to report. It's only been a few hours since we acquired this latest lead, and only in the last thirty minutes have we become convinced that there is a genuine connection between him and our nocturnal friend."
   "You think this is the most secure location for an interrogation?"
   "It's an easily deniable location. Anyone could break in here." He didn't think Victor would catch his lie until it was too late. "Besides, the guy is just a school teacher."
   "It's not him I'm worried about, you ass."
   "He's only been gone a few hours, she can't even know he's missing yet."
   "She?"
   "We've been able to determine a little about the operative and the relationship between the two of them by pupil dilation, skin response, pulse rate, and judicious use of certain chemicals. Here, see for yourself." He led victor down a narrow hall lined with small, dingy offices and into the second to last one. It was crammed with electronic equipment that was recording all the information from the monitoring devices next door. The man on the monitors was tired and looked a little paranoid. He was secured to a steel chair in the middle of the room. There was a desk between him and the other occupant, a tough looking man with a buzz cut.
   "I want to see him."
   "Bad idea, Sir. So far he's only seen one face, and Charlie can move to another country in a few hours if need be. If you have any specific questions, you can relay them to Charlie's earpiece and he'll work them into the questioning. I think you might went to look over the transcripts first though. Duplication and repetition are valid techniques, but not if we keep asking questions we already know the answers to."
   Victor looked at Rausch with unmitigated hate and contempt. "Just give me the important facts."
   "Yes, Sir. Our darkling is a woman. They haven't known each other all that long, probably less than a year. He has a very strong emotional attachment to her. He really doesn't know where she lives or where she might be found, but I believe he knows a way to contact her. He isn't about to tell us under current conditions though."
   "Aren't you using some kind of truth serum?"
   "Yes, Sir. It makes it very hard for him to lie and very easy for him to talk about things he normally wouldn't, but it doesn't make him suicidal. He believes the consequences for telling us about this woman are more severe than anything we'll do to him for not telling."
   "Perhaps you should disabuse him of that notion."
   "We plan to, Sir. We feel that this sort of questioning has achieved all it can. We are about to resort to older, more effective methods. Are you sure you went to be here for this? I can report to you just as soon as we learn how to find this woman."
   Oh, yes. I'm staying right here. Are you going to start by cutting off a finger or two?"
   Rausch hid his disrespect. "No. We aren't going to cut anything off. We intend to inflict maximum pain without any irrevocable damage. He has to believe that he can have some kind of life after this or he won't tell us anything." He put on a lightweight headset and turned it on. "Let's take it up a level, Charlie."
   Woody sat in the chair feeling kind of jittery. They had injected him several times. He hoped they knew what they were doing, drug interactions could be very dangerous. The man came out from behind the desk and went behind Woody's chair. He couldn't turn his head far enough to see what was going on, but he didn't really care. Something flexible and heavy hit him above the right ear. Then the left. The man waited until Woody closed his eyes for a few seconds to hit him in the face. So that's what a broken nose felt like. It really hurt quite a bit. Blood was running down his front and his eyes were swelling shut.
   "Where can we find her?"
   "In hell."
   "Very funny."
   The beating continued for a while. The man asked again. Woody didn't say anything. He felt some of the bones in his left hand break. He knew what that felt like already. The first time he'd tried to break a board when he was a kid, the board had won. His instructor had told him he wasn't ready yet. Nothing like proving the man right.
   "This can all s if you tell us how to find her."
   "Oh, fuck off." Woody wondered if it would be harder to get along without hands, or feet. He guessed that maybe it would be hard to eat without using your hands, about the time the man broke the other one. He had seen great improvements in prosthesis in his lifetime. He was glad he had good insurance. Both health and life insurance. It was too bad he'd never thought to find a way to make Bethany the beneficiary.
   The man broke one of his lower ribs next. The man asked the same questions each time, but he had stopped bothering to answer. Woody decided the guy was thorough but not very creative. He wondered if they would use electric shocks when they ran out of bones to break. Or maybe fire. Or acid. He'd have to wart and see.
   
   
   Chapter Thirty Seven
   
   Shatter moved around her workshop training room in the deepening darkness. She knew what she had to do, she had to get low and keep out of sight. Stay out of circulation until it all blew over and let the others handle it. That was how it worked, that was the rule, that was the way it was always done. Funny thing though, that's not what her hands and feet were doing. They were gearing up for work. No, she was gearing up for battle. No intricate surveillance equipment, no subtle tools for quiet entry, just everything she owned designed to inflict maximum damage.
   She covered herself from neck, to waists, to feet with laminated microfilament aramid fiber and began to arm herself. She took four boot knives, two combat knives at the waist, and two tantos in special pockets on her upper back, all 440-C Stainless steel with ABS handles. No carbon fiber stealth tonight. Then she strapped on both pistols, her sub-machine gun, and 320 rounds. Those hard hitting little 5.7 x 28mm steel tipped, aluminum core, full jacketed rounds, that would penetrate the steel trauma plate better body armor used to cover the heart. All three weapons fired the same ammunition at over 650 meters per second, and it had been designed for one specific job.
   
   She took her brown hair off and tossed it on the bench before she put her helmet on. She had to take the bike for speed and maneuverability. She rode onto the elevator and checked the map display inside her face shield while she waited. She let the surface streets and neighborhood around the warehouse bum into her brain. At the bottom she held onto her patience while the fence let her out. When she hit the street, she opened the 1700cc engine up and let it breathe. She didn't care about traffic laws or anybody who thought they had a better use for the pavement. Sidewalks and alleys were just fine tonight. She rocketed through the city streets at 120 kph. without looking at the rear view.
   As she got near her destination, she picked the street that would give her the longest straight run. It turned out the main gate was at a "T" intersection where her street ended. She could see a gate hut next to the single cross bar like railroad crossings had. Like that would keep anybody out. She could see that the guard had heard her and was stepping out of the hut. As she neared the gate, she let the bike go and braced for the roll under the bar. The Windstorm slid under the barrier on its side spraying sparks as she rolled to her feet and jammed a boot knife into the guard. It went between the fourth and fifth ribs just to one side of his sternum and she could feel it grate to a halt as the tip hit his spine. She left it there. She was already most of the way across the yard when he finished crumpling to the ground.
   The door wasn't locked and it didn't look like the alarm was on since the wires were stone cold. She set her helmet on the floor just inside and drew a combat knife. She wanted to keep the noise down so people wouldn't know she was here any sooner than they had to. There was a man two meters down the hall. He was facing away from the door. Oops. She pulled the other combat knife and cut both his carotid arteries, leaving him in a heap. She could hear two more talking in the cross hall up ahead. She eased up and listened for four heartbeats to be sure where they were before she went around the corner.
   The first man was facing away, so she kept low and sliced both his femoral arteries. She pushed by him as he staggered and cut the other man's brachial arteries as he tried to draw his gun. She slipped past him and cut both of his femoral ones just to be sure before she used her foot to launch him into the first man. They fell in a tangle, both pumping liters of blood onto the yellowed asphalt floor tiles as she sprinted on down the hall.
   There were two more at the comer. They had enough warning to draw guns, but not enough to fire them. She ran her knife into the eye socket of the man on her right and let go. She used her left one to sever the forearm tendons of the other. His gun dropped to the floor as he tried to grapple her. She used the heel of her hand to jamb his head back against the wall and started cutting. She had wet-grip gloves just for times like this.
   There was only one way to go now, and she could hear a voice and people breathing. She retrieved her other knife as she listened to the people in each of the last rooms. The voice and the hitting noises were in the farthest. She knew what was happening there. If someone was still hitting, chances were he was still alive. She decided to take the closer room first, even though she wanted the other.
   She opened the door on two men in suits. The closer one was raising his hands and the other was pushing him towards her. One of the thugs in the hall must have been wired for them to have this much notice. She used both knives to slice through his lungs and pierce his heart. As the near guy fell away, something clicked. The other guy was that same asshole CEO from the hotel job. She let the knives slip from her fingers. The man backed into the corner with his hands up. Coward. She extended her fingertip blades, jabbed her thumbs into his eyes, and used the other eight blades to turn his neck into ribbons. There was a lot of blood. He sank into a crumpled heap like some half-chewed cherry in a pool of red syrup fallen from a child's melting ice cream treat to rot on the pavement.
   She left him there and ran for the other room. She brought the SMO up as she kicked the door in. Subtlety was useless now. The man with the buzz cut spun as she turned his torso into a sprinkler with a long burst. He fell as she let the gun hang back at her side.
   Woody couldn't see well enough to tell what was happening, but he looked more puzzled than afraid. At least that's how she read the mess that his face had become. As she began freeing him from the chair, he tried to say something. She put her face dose to his and listened carefully. All that cam e out was a whisper.
   "Are you all right?"
   She could feel the tears pouring down her cheeks. She wasn't sure if she could keep it from showing in her voice, so she put her head gently against his and nodded. He whispered again.
   "Don't cry."
   She could hear sirens coming, the gate guard must've had a heart monitor. She finished cutting him loose from the chair before she put her wet lips to his ear and whispered just loudly enough for him to hear.
   "My real name is Claire." He tried to smile.
She picked him up gently and carried him carefully over the mutilated bodies in the halls. They went back out the door she had come in, emerging from the flickering fluorescents to the colorful flashing lights that seemed to be everywhere. There was an ambulance over by the guard hut, so she turned that way. There were cops spreading across the lot with guns drawn. They took familiar bent kneed, both hands on the gun, shooting stances as she came across the pavement. She ignored them.
   The EMTs looked unsure as she came at them until she got dose enough for them to see she was crying. They grabbed a gurney and met her in the middle. She set Woody gently on the white sheet and backed away with her hands up. The cops surrounded her as the gurney rolled away. They were shouting things at her, but she really didn't care what they were saying. As she watched them load the gurney into the ambulance, the cops moved closer and she finally understood. She knew what it meant to be loved. And she knew what she had to do.
   She took a split second inventory. She still had all three firearms, but right now she needed to be as close to one of these men as she could. There wasn't much else out here to use as a shield. Everything around her seemed to slow just a little more as her hands flashed to the blades behind her head and yanked them free.