by McKenna Dean
“No. And you needn’t worry about his recovery. He’ll be fine.”
I lifted an eyebrow at his presumption. “I shattered his kneecap.”
At the very least, Billy would need surgery. Or would he? Billy had seemed quick to rally until Ryker had turned on the green light.
“Ah, yes. Your concern for our lunchtime intruder does you credit. Rest assured, Billy will receive whatever treatment he needs. And our people are fast healers.”
Our “people”?
“Sir, was it my imagination, or did this man start to...?” I wasn’t sure how to complete my sentence. Perhaps I was guilty of reading too many pulp magazines. They made a nice change from the classics, but they had a sad tendency to influence my dreams. Could they affect my waking thoughts as well?
No, I know what I saw.
Ryker didn’t make it easy for me, merely lifting his own questioning eyebrow.
“Just as he was about to attack me, his nails became claws and his face sprouted fur.” Before Ryker could call me crazy or tell me I was imaging things, I said in a quiet but firm voice, “I saw him change.”
“Ah. I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that.” With a heavy sigh, he went back to the sideboard and poured whiskey into two tumblers, returning to the desk to hand one to me.
I hesitated before accepting the glass. Given my father’s fate, more than most people, I had good reason to avoid alcohol. Yet, whiskey seemed like a better choice than tea right now, especially since tea didn’t seem to be forthcoming. When Ryker had taken his seat again, I continued, “I also noticed when you pressed the switch under Miss Climpson’s desk, you seemed confident Billy no longer posed a threat. Did you turn some kind of dampening field on him? What did he want? Was he after the mechanical spider?”
My questions caught Ryker as he took a sip and he choked. Setting the glass down, he looked at me with mild astonishment. “My word, Miss Bishop. In another century, they’d have burned you at the stake.” À propos of nothing, he added, “What do you go by? Henrietta?”
My eyes narrowed. In my experience, you couldn’t trust bosses who asked for personal information. “My friends call me Rhett,” I spoke each word with careful deliberation.
He nodded. If he sensed my wariness, he had chosen to ignore it. “Very nice, indeed. It suits you.” Something of my expression must have registered with him because he held up a hand. “Please believe me when I say I have no designs on your person. It’s just that I feel you’re wasted in a secretarial position, and I don’t want to keep ‘Miss Bishoping’ you. Unless, of course, you prefer it.”
“You may call me Bishop, if it’s easier.”
He seemed delighted by this. “Like I would Russo or the others? Except for Miss Climpson. She could never be anything other than that.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. “At least to her face.”
I coughed to conceal a small laugh. No one called Miss Climpson ‘Climmy’ in her presence. In fact, I’d chosen to do so when confronting the intruder solely to alert Miss Climpson I was aware something was wrong, had she been able to hear me.
Ryker picked up his tumbler again, staring into its amber depths. “How would you like to be a field agent, Bishop?”
He hadn’t answered my questions, but his offer was intriguing.
“I suspect I would like it very much, as long as it doesn’t involve sitting in front of a typewriter. What does a field agent do and does the position come with a raise?”
He chuckled at that. “Well, you may have noticed we’re on the lookout for certain unusual artifacts.”
I took a sip of my whiskey. It burned going down but left me with a warm, steadying glow. Dutch courage, but I’d take it. “Artifacts and people.”
“Yes. Two different sides of the same issue. Ever since the war, the world has changed at a rate faster than many of us can adapt to. Some people wake up to find their entire lives turned upside down. New technology is being discovered, some of which is incredibly dangerous. My colleagues and I are a small but dedicated group of people trying our best to keep our world safe as these new challenges appear.”
“Do you think they have something to do with the world-wide use of atomic weapons?”
Ryker’s brows came down over his eyes. “What makes you say that?”
I set my tumbler on the desk, lining it up alongside my purse, the chocolate, and the Magic 8 Ball. “The map in Mr. J’s office pinpoints the locations of many of the atomic weapons test sites. The lines of string identify areas in which some of these artifacts have been recovered by Redclaw. An astonishing number of artifacts are found near areas of nuclear activity.”
He looked confused, so I added, “I made a point of looking up the areas in question to see if there was anything distinguishing about them. The one consistent factor was their proximity to a nuclear detonation.”
Ryker’s expression went blank for a moment, and then he took out a small gold case. With slow deliberate movements, he struck a match and lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag, blowing smoke out through his nostrils before speaking. “I’m glad to see my instincts about you were right. Mr. Jessop was against hiring you at first, you know.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to know if werewolves or vampires or alien body snatchers surrounded me. At the same time, I couldn’t afford to operate in ignorance. The last time I’d turned a blind eye to events taking place around me, I lost everything in the world that mattered. “Because I’m not like you.”
“Yes, and no.” His voice was gentle. Smoke wreathed his head as he chose his words with care. “Whether or not you realize it, you have shown tendencies we normally associate with members of our community. Some of the technology has responded to you, which only happens to people of a certain genetic makeup. We think it’s possible you may have a recessive gene.”
With that, Miss Climpson’s obsessive interest in my work habits took on a different meaning. She hadn’t been waiting to see if I’d make a mistake as much as observing me in case I showed a flair for handling the technology.
Ryker met my eyes as he continued smoking, almost as if he could read my thoughts. For all I knew, he could.
“Redclaw has a big task ahead. Locating these devices before someone gets hurt, helping people adjust to the changes that have come into their lives, and helping them find family who have gone missing. Also, keeping the tech out of the hands of people who would use such information and power against others, including, sometimes, our own government.”
“When you say people who would use this technology against others, you mean ordinary humans pitting themselves against the ones who have somehow mutated since the use of atomic weapons?”
He gave a slow nod, as though he were giving himself time to craft a response. “We don’t think of it as mutation as much as coming into our real selves, but yes. Right now, our numbers are small. We need the help of smart, resourceful people such as you. The only typing you’ll do is the filing of your own reports. What say you, Bishop? Are you in?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Logic would dictate that I support the side of humans against the unnamed ‘others’ Ryker described. But Ryker seemed to suggest I wasn’t as human as I thought. Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the underdog.
Giving my boss a wry smile, I picked up the Magic 8 Ball and rotated it back and forth in my hand. It was heavier than I expected and, like some other objects I’d held at Redclaw, generated an odd warmth in my hands. I closed my eyes and thought about Ryker’s offer and then opened them as I rotated the ball so the advice printed on the floating triangle within appeared in the small window.
Trust your instincts.
I had to smile at that. Pretty sage advice for a kid’s toy. Looking up, I saw Ryker eyeing me. One eyebrow lifted, prompting me for my answer.
Was there ever any doubt I would say no? I set the toy back on the desk and held out my hand. “I’m in.”
Ryker shook my hand with a smile and then removed a fi
le from a drawer on his side of the desk. He held it out. “Excellent. I have your first assignment.”
I opened it. To my utter surprise, attached to the sheaf of typewritten pages within was a small black and white photograph of the man I’d run into that day outside The Blue Moon. The man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. “Sir?”
“Meet Peter Knight. A former atomic scientist who has dropped out of sight. A British ex-pat who came over during the war to work with the government but has now gone missing.”
My heart sank at the sight of the photo. Though my impression of the man on the street was fleeting, I was sure this was the same person. The same elegance of bone structure, the same hard line of his jaw. Even though the image was in black-and-white, the photo captured the clear intensity of his eyes. But if Redclaw was interested in finding him, then he must be nothing like I had imagined. “So he is... one of you then?”
I couldn’t say “us.” Not yet. I was still reeling from the revelation I might have the gene.
Ryker frowned, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette. “I don’t know, though it seems unlikely. As far as we can tell, the shifter gene is present in not quite ten percent of the population at this time. But the person best suited to evaluate and catalog the technology has decided against helping us. Which means Redclaw has to look outside its usual pool of applicants for someone with the same scientific background. The full resources of Redclaw are at your disposal, naturally. If you find him, we’ll take over from there.”
I’d do more than find him. I’d bring him in. I’d prove to Ryker—and Redclaw—he was right to hire me.
Chapter Five
I refrained from telling Ryker I’d seen the missing man described in the file. It made sense to keep my mouth shut about perhaps knowing where to locate Knight until I could prove I could find him again. If I discovered his whereabouts soon, I’d appear brilliant. If I said I could find him but failed, I’d look incompetent.
Ryker led the way back into the hallway. The notion of a missing scientist reminded me of the book and Thermos I’d left upstairs, and I excused myself to retrieve them, Knight’s file tucked under my arm for further perusal later.
When I returned to the main office, Ryker was holding court there. Miss Climpson, looking far more alert and energized than I would have expected for someone throttled and bashed over the head, sat in her usual spot. I wondered about the switch under her desk and its function. I also wondered if my boss had conveniently taken me into his office for other reasons besides a confidential chat.
Mr. J was coming out of his office when I entered the room.
“As near as I can ascertain, sir, nothing is missing.” The look he cast Ryker seemed to imply more than just his bare statement, given the marked waggling of his eyebrows toward his private office.
“Good. That’s what Russo said as well, but it never hurts to have additional confirmation.”
I made my way to my desk and put my book and Thermos along with the Browning in the bottom drawer. I laid the file beside the typewriter and took my seat.
Ryker glanced around the room, taking in the presence of everyone there with a gaze that contained an air of satisfaction. Once again, he reminded me of a pirate, this time standing on the deck with arms akimbo, about to address his crew.
The crew of three.
“I’ve decided we’re underutilizing Bishop’s skills here.”
Miss Climpson winced, presumably because she disagreed with his decision, though it could have been at the dropping of “Miss” as Ryker addressed me. Hard to tell with Climmy.
I said nothing.
Ryker continued, “I’ve promoted Bishop to field agent. I believe she has what it takes.”
“Sir.” It was a single word of protest on Mr. J’s part. I knew Ryker could put his foot down and his employees would give in, but for this to work, it needed more than “because I said so” from the boss.
I cleared my throat. I found it impossible to refer to the uncanny change I’d seen Billy undergo or insinuate any of them could do the same, and so I danced delicately around the subject. “I realize there’s more to this agency than meets the eye. Please believe me when I say I’m not interested in anyone’s personal life. I’m here to do a job. One I think I could do quite well.”
Mr. J and Miss Climpson traded worried glances.
Ryker observed the exchange and decided to put me on the spot. “What would you change around here, Bishop?”
Oh, Lord.
“Well, for one thing, if you’re known to have items of value, you must do more about security here than what’s currently in place. You can’t always rely on Miss Climpson or myself to stop a determined intruder. And, if I may be so bold to point out, that blow to the back of her head could have killed Miss Climpson.”
“Really, sir!” Mr. J puffed up with indignation. “We agreed that maintaining a low profile in the neighborhood was paramount to our success and safety. With all due respect, what Miss Bishop is suggesting—”
“Is correct. Hiding in plain sight might have worked before, but now the cat is out of the bag. Our anonymity is no longer protecting us. There are people who know who we are and what we’re trying to do. See to it, Reggie. I want guards here at all times.”
Reggie? After the initial shock, I realize it suited Mr. J. I wondered if there was a Mrs. J, and if she was normal like me or something...different. Because, as plain as the nose on my face, I stood on one side of normal and my coworkers stood on the other, even if I could influence the weird technology Redclaw retrieved. What that ‘other’ entailed, I didn’t want to think too much about right now. At last, I was being offered the chance of work that excited me in a way I hadn’t felt since my mother decided it was time for me to become a lady. Was I going to quibble about little details as to whether or not my colleagues were entirely human?
“Sir.” Miss Climpson spoke for the first time. She cut her eyes toward me and then fixed them on the boss. “I know you believe Miss Bishop has the qualifications to be a field agent.” She hesitated and glanced in my direction again. “Certainly her performance today would support that. But the stakes are high for all of us.”
I stood up. “Miss Climpson. You have little reason to trust me. I realize there are secrets within this firm you feel are too great for me to know. But I also understand what it’s like to belong to a set group within society and become an outcast. I know what it’s like to become a social pariah, to lose both my standing and security. Whatever secrets you’re hiding, I won’t betray your trust.”
Miss Climpson turned a wan smile toward me. “I’m sure you believe that, my dear. But belief is not proof of action when push comes to shove. Not to mention, we have far more to lose than you.”
Ryker cleared his throat. “I trust Bishop.” The authority in Ryker’s voice made Miss Climpson’s shoulders sag. “I’ve assigned her the task of locating Peter Knight.”
Mr. J’s face fell, and his mouth opened. “But sir—”
Ryker made an abrupt chopping gesture with his hand. “We’ve been over this before. We need someone with Knight’s skills to analyze and assess the artifacts coming in each day.”
Mr. J made as if to speak, but a single, sharp glance from Ryker was enough to quell him. “I know who you’re going to suggest, and that’s impossible. That particular individual has set himself up in opposition to Redclaw’s mission.”
Miss Climpson’s face crumpled like tissue paper. For a moment, I thought she might cry. Ryker’s thunderous expression arrested me, however. His brows, normally an elegant line over his eyes, beetled together in a ferocious scowl. He looked as though he might spontaneously combust. Whoever Mr. J thought would be a better choice than Peter Knight was someone they all knew. Someone who disagreed with Redclaw’s mission. Maybe even someone who’d betrayed them.
Ryker wiped all traces of fury from his face as he turned to me. “That’s settled then. Bishop, come with me. I’d like to test a theor
y.”
Based on the look his staff members shot each other, it was far from settled, at least as far as they were concerned. Ryker ignored their consternation and strode toward Mr. J’s office, expecting me to follow in his wake.
I did.
Inside the inner sanctum, Ryker didn’t hesitate, but made for the bookcase on the far wall.
I’d been in that office dozens of times and had shelved books without thinking. Ryker pulled a series of books forward from their slots and replaced them so fast I couldn’t track the sequence. When he completed the last move, the bookcase swung open, revealing a large room on the other side. The light within was brilliant, like that of a hospital or laboratory.
He paused at the threshold. “There’s a subterranean complex in here. For now, it’s where we’re storing artifacts of immense and inexplicable energy. You were right. Something about the advent of atomic weaponry woke a power that’s been lying dormant on this world for centuries, perhaps even millennia. In the wrong hands, these artifacts could be lethal. I’m trying to get them off the streets, but also determine what they do. That’s where I hope Dr. Knight’s genius will prove invaluable.”
As tempting as it was to ask about the person who could have done Knight’s job but refused, I suspected Ryker wouldn’t give me any more information than I already knew. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears as I gathered my courage enough to ask the damning question I could no longer put off. “This newly awakened power. It isn’t just limited to artifacts, is it?”
Ryker nodded. “That’s right. Redclaw also exists to help people deal with the changes that have come over them against their will. What you saw with Billy. Some of us can transform into animals and other creatures.”
