by Mark Eller
"Filmore," Aaron blurted out. "That's the fellow who gave me the flyer; the one Saundra Clarice spoke to." After all, how many dwarfs could be involved in this matter?
Lieutenant Larns gave him a disapproving look. "Mister Turner, I'm speaking with Miss Bivins. When I'm finished with her, I'll get to you. Go on Miss Bivins."
"Actually, he introduced himself as a Mister Filmore. He talked rather pointlessly for a while about money and how difficult it was for deserving souls to acquire enough to suit their needs. Every so often I threw in a 'hmmm' and a 'uh-huh' and a few other semi-discouraging noises and hoped he would grow bored or frustrated enough to leave."
She shrugged. "He didn't leave. Instead he mentioned some Mister he worked for and then told me straight up that Aaron Turner was a prisoner. He said Mister Turner could easily be mind-wiped or killed, and that it was up to me to see this did not happen. I will admit he got my full attention then. After all, Mister Turner is my only client. If something happens to him, I would be forced to work for an established firm. I told Mister Filmore in no uncertain terms that I would have the law down on him."
"So tell me, miss," Sergeant Crowley asked, "what was his reaction to that bit of a threat?"
Amanda smiled, then frowned at Crowley. "He said I was to arrange for a transfer of all Mister Turner's assets and legal agreements over to his Mister. He said if I did not have this arranged by the end of two weeks that there would be nothing worth salvaging of Mister Turner's mind. I said something like that would require signatures and assurances that his people actually held my client. He told me where and when to go to meet Mister Turner. He said I was to come alone, or I would not be given the two weeks promised. He said that at the first sign of trouble Mister Turner would be killed. I told him the transfer could begin almost immediately if I used a few standard forms."
"So that's why you showed up with your brief filled with legal papers," Faith said. "You were about to arrange the partial transfer of Mister Turner's assets into their hands."
"Oh no." Amanda looked amused by the suggestion. "I would never do that. Please remember that my entire financial future is tied to Mister Turner's fortunes. Basically, when he goes broke, so do I. No, the papers I had were nothing more than a convoluted legal joke I learned about during my time at the university. Most lawyers keep a few copies of it in their files on the off chance that they might come in handy someday as a prank. No, once those papers were signed not one thing would have been accomplished except that I would know exactly where to send the N'Ark Guard. In fact, the only thing stopping me from bringing the guard with me was the thought that I might be followed. That would have endangered Mister Turner even more."
"Did it occur to you that the kidnappers might kill Mister Turner if you did not do exactly as they demanded?"
Amanda smiled briefly. "I was willing to take that risk. If they killed Mister Turner, I figured his wife would retain me to settle his affairs. With the state those affairs are in, that settling would have taken years." Her eyes flicked toward Aaron. "Sorry, sir, but business is business. I like you well enough; I really do. In fact, I intend on eventually having a couple children by you. The thing is, I will not ruin myself for your sake."
A rush of conflicting emotions raced through Aaron. On the one hand, Miss Bivins was willing to run to his rescue at the risk of some personal danger, so long as she did not lose money by doing so. On the other hand, she had just stated that she wanted children by him, which would not happen. He refused to have children outside of marriage, and he would never marry Amanda Bivins. For one thing, he did not and never would love her. For another, she was a woman who preferred women, and Aaron would not fall into that situation again, not after his experience with Kit.
Seeing the confusion in his face, she looked amused.
"Yes, I know all about your so-called vow. I really don't care about it, and no, I am not in love with you, and I do not want to marry you. I just want you to father my kids. You are a good breeder. Your record proves that. My only concern is your slight build. I don't want my children to be short and thin, but I decided that having a couple boys who will reach their majority, when so many male children don't, was worth the price of a few inches."
Aaron shook his head. "I'm sorry but that will never happen."
"Yes, it will. There will be a time when I am fertile and you are drunk. I'm willing to wait. Besides, I don't want children for another several years."
Aaron shook his head again. The two women ignored him.
"What do you think is going on?" the lieutenant asked.
"Politics, pure and not so simple," Amanda answered. "Mister Turner represents a great deal of potential wealth and not a small amount of future political influence. A strong contingent in the assembly wants to make him ineffective. I am positive Mister Turner's enemy is one or more of the elected assembly."
""What's the basis of his influence?" Larns asked.
Amanda shook her head. Rising from her chair, she paced to the window. The drape was partly open, allowing her a view of the street outside. A full minute passed before she turned back to the lieutenant.
"I am sorry, Lieutenant. I cannot answer that at this time. Neither can Mister Turner, not without putting us in an awkward position."
"It would help this investigation."
"I know it would, and we have the legal right to fill you in if we so choose, but political considerations demand that neither of us answer at this time. Besides, we all know any real investigation will not be done by IFBIS; this is not the type of situation the Isabellan Federation Bureau of Internal Security is authorized to investigate. If anything, the matter belongs to the N'Ark Guard."
"You've heard of us?" Larns asked.
"Your organization is new, but I keep my ears open."
Larns nodded. "Not surprising. Now, I know Mister Turner has a Talent Stone because I have a strong Talent that recognizes their resonance. If I'd not spun several lies after his capture, his Stone would have been taken from him."
"Too many people know he has a Stone," Amanda said unhappily, "and with the people who saw him transfer today, that number just got bigger. I am not happy about that. The fewer in the know, the better I like it. As you already discovered, there are ways to take Mister Turner's Stone away."
"Most of the people who saw him use his Talent today won't have an opportunity to speak on that matter," Lieutenant Larns said. "The criminals will be isolated, and my people are sworn to silence on everything having to do with this case. Even so, some word will get out. Mister Turner, do you have anything to add?"
Her eyes were cool and judging. Aaron had the impression Larns did not like him.
Shrugging, Aaron shifted nervously. "I notice that Miss Bivins received her visit hours before I was taken prisoner, and that Mister Filmore was already at the warehouse when I arrived. I assume from this that they were sure I'd be a sucker for their trap."
Larns flipped through her notebook. "Miss Saundra Clarice, AKA Laura Amens, AKA Veronica Halbite, AKA, AKA, AKA. She was arrested four times as a minor and convicted once. After serving her thirty days she has not been brought in again, but that's only because she's never where we can find her. Arsonist, thief, suspected assassin, though strictly on an amateur basis. There are a good many other items in her file, but there's no evidence to back our suspicions. We do know that she used to work for the late Dom Verilago et Burrauge. Past information we have on her suggests she is something of a sadist and even more of a masochist."
She rose from the table and put away her notebook. "I have everything I need. In fact, I have more than I need. We will be in touch."
She made her way to the door, opened it, and regarded Aaron with cool eyes. "Mister Turner, I need to set the professional me aside to say that I don't approve of what you're doing. It's low and despicable, and it's a sin that we don't have a law giving us the power to confirm our suspicions. If the time ever arrives when such a law comes into effect, I'll be the firs
t person in line to arrest you. If I'd been positive of who you were when we were inside the warehouse, I would have allowed them to remove your Stone and destroy it. Good day, Sir."
The door shut gently behind her.
Confused, Aaron turned to Amanda. She was involved in a good many things, all of which were in his name. Whatever was bothering the lieutenant had to be caused by something Amanda had initiated.
Except she looked equally confused.
"Aaron," she said slowly, "what are you involved in? Whatever it is, you better tell me so I can take steps to protect you."
"A factory," Aaron said. "I've taken steps to start a factory that makes ball bearings. I was going to tell you about it so you could draw up the appropriate papers."
"And what are ball bearings?"
"They are nothing," Aaron said. "They are only to put on wagon wheels so I can stop cringing every time I hear one squeak. They are basically little metal balls set in a ring."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Then what in the holy hells is she so upset about?"
* * *
Clank Clank Clank Clank
Aaron listened to the rhythmic staccato of bronze banging on bronze. Everywhere he looked many women and a few men lifted weights, ran in place and did sit-ups. Almost the entire first floor of the gym held weight machines and benches, half of which were in use. Near the door was an eight-foot-long counter behind which sat a young man wearing a muscle shirt. With his eyes buried deep in a book, he pointedly ignored frequent female glances cast in his direction.
Aaron looked toward the ceiling stretching far over his head, cathedral-like and sun-roofed. The gym had two floors, but the second floor was no more than a track, attached to the side walls, that circled the perimeter several feet above the main floor. The track floor was no wider than six feet on the long ends, perhaps twelve feet on the short ones. A booth took up the extra space on each of those wider ends. Two lone figures ran around the track.
"Don't worry. We were all virgins one time or another."
Aaron jerked because he had not known someone was nearby. A turn of his head showed a tall blond wearing a sweat-dampened, cropped T-shirt that left her midriff bare. Her hair hung heavy and wet with sweat.
"Pardon me?"
"To the gym. This appears to be your first time here, so that makes you a virgin."
Aaron smiled and wiped mental sweat off his brow. "And what exactly leads you to that conclusion?"
She smiled back. "You're wearing street clothes, and you don't have a gym bag. Nobody comes in here without a gym bag. Would you like me to show you around?"
Aaron shook his head. "I'm looking for somebody. Do you know Felicity Stromburg?"
She sighed. "Never heard of her, but then I don't memorize the names of the women who show up here, if you know what I mean. I'm more interested in the men. Ask at the desk. Mister Page knows everyone."
Aaron thanked her despite the fact that asking at the desk was exactly what he had planned on doing.
"I assume you're here to do more than sightsee," the counterman, Mister Page, said when Aaron approached. He laid aside his book. "We have a no-gawking rule. You come in this place, you either work out or you leave."
"I'm looking for Felicity Stromburg," Aaron said. "Does she comes here?"
"The Mule?" Page seemed to relax. "Interesting woman. Sharp mind. Yeah, she stops in. Not on any particular schedule. Why don't you check out her apartment? It's only half a block from here." His eyes flicked to his book and back to Aaron.
"She wasn't there. I thought she might be here since this is the closest gym."
"Well, it's possible she'll come in."
"Would you mind if I waited a while?"
Page shook his head before Aaron even finished speaking. "Sorry, company rule says only paying gawkers. If you want to stay you have to buy a membership and exercise." He gestured toward the room at large. "There are a lot of people here and none are dressed in street wear. Some people want to come in just so they can stare. It makes the paying customers uncomfortable."
Sighing, Aaron accepted the inevitable. He really wanted to see Miss Stromburg and didn't feel like haunting the outside sidewalk until she showed up. "Go ahead and sign me up. How much?"
"Quarter gold a month will get you unlimited access."
"I'll go for that," Aaron told him.
"Your name?" The counterman took out a form and started filling in a few blank lines. Aaron was amused to see that he used a magic writer, a copy of a pen Aaron had first brought over from Jefferson.
"Aaron Turner." He received a quick glance.
"I've heard the name, but I don't remember where. Do you have any gym equipment and an address?"
Aaron admitted that he had no equipment and gave the man his current address. Page quickly wrote that down, filled out a small card, and handed the card to Aaron.
"That will get you back in anytime you show up. Don't lose it. I have some gym equipment back here if you'd like to buy it. Shorts and shirt runs a copper half each. I have workout gloves, too, a back support, some braces, and a few other items."
"How about just the shirt and shorts and maybe a bag to hold them in? I don't plan on getting that involved."
"Your choice." Page studied Aaron with a critical eye. "I'll set you up with a size a bit larger than what you normally wear. A thin body like yours should start to fill out fairly rapidly. The shorts have a draw so you can cinch them up. The changing rooms are upstairs at both ends of the track. Take any room you like. They're unisex and all have interior locks."
Aaron paid his fees, took his new belongings, and headed for the stairs. Once he had stripped off his old clothes and slid on his new ones, he discovered the counterman was correct. These clothes were larger than his old ones. They hung on him like rags. The shorts were two sizes too big, and the shirt, a muscle shirt like the one worn by all the other men, drooped open from his armpit halfway down to his waist. Looking down at himself, Aaron had to admit that his body was barely bigger than a child's when compared to those around him.
In truth, his frame supported less muscle now than it had when he ran the Last Chance General Store. That place had given him a workout. While running the store, he had grown used to carrying one hundred-pound bags of flour or grain, not to mention crates and cases of other supplies. Working in the store had changed him from an anemic cripple into a man with some meat on his frame.
Comparing himself to the people around him now, he was in serious need of putting some of that meat back on.
Okay, to work.
He was benching an easy sixty pounds when Felicity finally arrived. Turning his head, he saw that she wore revealing gym clothes, the same as the other women around him. He had only thought she was huge before. Now he saw that she was gigantic. Her arms and calves were corded bulges of muscle. Her belly looked like a washboard. In all, she was the perfect picture of the world's strongest woman.
"You need to slow down," she said. "Use steady motions that allow you to isolate your muscles. Jerking the weights causes injury and makes your muscles do less work."
Obediently slowing his pace, Aaron decided he didn't like the change. It made his already tired muscles hurt even worse.
"That's better, but watch your breathing. Finish this set and we can talk."
Aaron carefully lowered the weights, wincing at the loud clack of metal on metal as his stack came down too hard. "Um--what exactly is a set?"
Chuckling, Felicity held out a hand to help him rise. "I see that we're going to have to have a long, long conversation. So how has it been going, Mister Turner?"
"I had a date," Aaron confessed.
Felicity gave him a lopsided grin as she looked around the female-filled gym. Several eyes fastened enviously on her. "I wouldn't brag about that if I were you. A date shouldn't be that hard to come by. All you need to do is crook your finger."
"My date kissed me and then sold me to sex slavers who
actually wanted me for ransom, or maybe they just wanted everything I own and then they wanted me dead. I'm now involved with the Isabellan Federation Bureau of Internal Security, and the federal government is after me. My lawyer says she wants to have my children and that she'll have them whether I like the idea or not. Lieutenant Larns of IFBIS hates me for reasons that escapes me, and I seem to have been solely responsible for the Thirty Clans losing their war so they now want me to set things right."
Felicity arched an eyebrow. "I don't know what I can do about your problems. I hope you're not looking for a bodyguard, because I gave that work up after discovering that an intimidating size isn't enough to handle every situation."
"I thought of asking you," Aaron admitted. "I didn't think of it for long. As far as I know, you don't have any qualifications for the job other than being big."
"I'm big, all right," Felicity agreed. "Haven't hit anybody since I was six years old. Don't have the temperament for it."
Aaron cleared his throat. "Well--um--I came to take you up on your offer. I need somebody who's willing to just be a friend. I don't have anybody like that in N'Ark. They all want something from me."
Felicity's face became serious. "I told you I'm pretty much sexless."
"But I don't want sex," Aaron protested. "All I want is a friend."
Her eyes sparkled. "Never thought you did. I said that only because if you want to be friends we have to be on first name terms. I don't want you to think I'm making a play for you, because I'm not."
"Call me Aaron."
"And you can call me Felicity. Tell you what, friend. Let's do a round together. You spot me, and I'll train you. When my workout is finished, I'll buy you a cup of tea, and we can talk. I might not be able to take care of your problems, and I'm not always real good with practical advice, but Aaron, my friend, I've a Talent for getting people to open up. I've learned that sometimes a person already knows the answer to their problems and only has to talk that answer out."
