by JL Wilson
"Head of research?" I sipped my coffee. "That sounds important."
"I'm not head of projects." She crossed her legs and wiggled one sneakered foot. "Just head of people."
"What kind of research?" I leaned back, affecting a casualness I didn't feel. Better and better. She would definitely have access to Meyer if he were, indeed, at the company.
Her posture changed. My years of study with Tibetan masters, assassins and police personnel alerted me. It was subtle but there--tension in the set of her shoulders, her foot pausing in its rhythmic tapping, her fingers shifting position on the cup. "Medical." The dismissal in her voice was obvious. She nudged John Fairchild. "How did your meeting go?"
"Fine. The talks are set for the first week in May." He smiled briefly at me. "Sorry. Business."
"No problem. I invited myself to this little party when I almost ran down Lucinda here."
Fairchild quirked an eyebrow at me but didn't comment. Lucinda said, "Did you talk to Cara? Did she approve it?"
"I told you she would." Fairchild sipped his drink, looking smug. "It's a great deal. Cara's not an idiot."
"No, she's just a--" Lucinda glanced at me. "Shrewd businesswoman. Well, good. I'm glad it's a go." She sounded uncertain, though.
"It's great for the company." Fairchild looked at me. "What do you do, Nico?"
I considered telling them the truth. I work for a clandestine government agency, killing people here and abroad. "I used to be in computer design. I'm semi-retired now and work for a travel agency. Maybe you've heard of us? TATA? Travel And Tours Associated?" The acronym, of course, served a dual purpose, also representing my real line of work with the Tactical Anti-Terrorist Agency. And the computer part wasn't a lie. I went into computer development when I realized it would be essential to help me find Meyer. I designed several computers in the past, as well as made a fortune on software.
"Really?" Lucinda's small foot bobbed, reminding me of the toddling moose. "I used to work for a computer company. Was it here in town? Maybe we know some of the same people."
"Most of it was on the East Coast." Unless she had known Grace Hopper and Seymour Cray, I doubted we had anyone in common. "I've been out of that business for a while now." I smiled easily. "I got out before the dot-com bubble burst."
"Nice." Fairchild nudged Lucinda. "Did you get your shopping done?"
"No." Her disappointment was evident. "I couldn't find it. I don't know what I'll do." She saw my confused look. "I went to that gallery down the street to see if they had a necklace. My niece saw work by the artist and I was told they had some of his jewelry here."
That explained why she'd ventured into this trendy Uptown shopping district. Her company was located in a western suburb and she lived even further west, in the small town of Burnsville. When she left her office I wondered why she came into this congested, aggressively chic neighborhood. It didn't seem her style.
She sighed. "Time is running out."
For a panicked moment I wondered if she knew her death was imminent. I raised my eyebrows in question.
"Kat has a birthday soon," she clarified. "She's been living out of state for the last few years and she's just come back home. I'd like to get her something special."
"Ah. Maybe I can help. I have a friend who runs several galleries. Perhaps she can contact the artist for you."
Lucinda shook her head. The lamp near the couch highlighted white strands mixed among her black curls. "The owner said the artist doesn't like to be contacted except through galleries. Apparently he's out of the country or on vacation." Lucinda's shoulders slumped. "I'll have to think of something else."
"Please. Let me help you. Give me the information about the artist and I'll see what I can do." I had contacts that Lucinda could only dream about. I could find the damn artist.
"I'd appreciate that." She looked so grateful I felt momentarily guilty. I squashed the unfamiliar emotion.
"I have to get going, Slayer," Fairchild said, setting down his coffee cup. "Can I put that table I brought for you in your car?"
"Oh, sure." She chugged the last of her coffee, then put her coat on. By the time she turned to me, my business card was in my hand.
"Please call me. I'll see what I can do."
She glanced at the card then put it into her M&Ms wallet. "Thank you."
I took her outstretched hand. I had put on my gloves so felt nothing as we touched. "It was a pleasure."
We left the warm shop. Misty snow was falling, tiny crystals that shone in the streetlights like confetti. Fairchild angled away from us, saying over one shoulder, "I'll drive over here so we can put it in your trunk."
Hey.
I looked around. The word was spoken very softly, as though someone was by my side, whispering in my ear.
Hey. Down here.
I looked down. The disgustingly ugly dog stared up at me from where he stood near a potted tree, twinkling Easter egg lights shining on his matted fur. The dog's mouth opened and his tongue lolled out. Yeah. Me.
Damn. I was going to have to talk to him after all.
Chapter Two
I stepped back. I've always avoided conversing with animals. It's an innate ability in 22nd century humans, but it's one I've never cared to practice. It reminded me too much of Persa. As a Companion, she had only been able to assume animal form and we communicated telepathically. It was too painful to relive that past.
I tried to edge by the beast on the crowded sidewalk. The pavement was slippery with newly fallen snow, making the footing dicey. The dog followed me. Listen, we need to talk.
I hurried forward. It might have fleas or some other equally unpleasant byproduct of filth. He trotted behind me, easily keeping pace. "Is that your dog?" Lucinda asked as the animal followed us into the parking lot.
Pretty lady, the dog commented. Friend of yours?
"No, it's a stray." I gestured to the animal. "Go. Go home."
The creature wagged his tail enthusiastically. Okay. Let's go home. He was almost as large as Lucinda and for one panicked moment I thought he might knock her into the oncoming traffic that was trolling around the lot, looking for a parking space.
What are you worried about? That would be the perfect accident. The dog snuffled around Lucinda's knees as she touched his head. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Kill her in an accident?
Shock rooted me to the spot until a car caught me in its headlights. I hurried to catch up with Lucinda, who was walking as she rubbed the animal's ugly head. "Poor guy," she said. "All cold and probably starving." She felt around his neck. "No collar or tags. Are you a stray?" She cradled the dog's filthy face in her mittened hands.
"It probably has fleas," I said. "You shouldn't touch it. You'll need to fumigate yourself."
That's unkind, the dog said. It's hard to stay clean when you live outside.
"What's your name?" she asked the dog, ignoring me.
Cerberus, the dog answered, his sly glance flickering to me.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," I muttered.
"What?" she asked, looking from the dog to me.
You're supposed to kill her, right? On Easter? It won't happen if you don't listen to me. Trust me, I know these things.
Whoever this creature was, he had access to inside information, information that only Parker Madison, my boss and I should know.
Don't forget Madison's bosses, the dog said. They know too.
I stared at the filthy canine. I'd forgotten how animals could intrude into one's thoughts once you allowed telepathic contact. I clumsily erected the mental barrier my mentor Ping Wo had shown me during my meditation and marital arts training in Tibet in the 1800s.
"It's unusual to see strays at this time of year," Lucinda said. "They usually hole up somewhere or..." She stopped as we approached the sludge-encrusted red Subaru that I knew was hers. "Damn!"
She stared at her car, wedged between two big SUVs. The left rear tire was flat. I inspected the wheel, spotting the nail protr
uding from the tread. "You probably had a slow leak for a while," I said. "You wouldn't have felt it with the recent snow we had."
She bent over to see for herself, the dog sniffing at the wheel as though to confirm its flatness. I was struck again by how small she was. She was only five-one to my six-three and her cloche, sneakers and Mickey Mouse mittens made her seem so youthful and vibrant. I was warmed just standing next to her. The dog dwarfed her with his size.
A dark BMW pulled up next to us and Fairchild got out. "What's wrong?" He followed our gazes to the tire. "How did that happen?" His gaze shifted to the dog. "What's that?"
Lucinda was opening the bag slung over her shoulder. "I must have run over something. I'll call AAA and see if I can get it towed. I don't want to change it in this weather. Can you give me a lift home, John? Margie's watching the cats and I promised I'd get back soon."
"Cats?" I asked.
Cats? the dog asked.
"Kittens," she said, her head bent as she rummaged in her purse. "Someone abandoned a mother cat and kittens near my house. I'm caring for them until they're well enough to go to the Humane Society."
Yummy. Kittens. Very tasty. The dog grinned at me, his tongue lolling.
"My car is jammed," Fairchild said, gesturing to the BMW. "And I don't really have time to wait for a tow truck. I've got that contractor coming to the house." He looked at me then at the tire. "And I don't have time to help change the tire, either."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't relish the idea of wrestling with a tire iron on a cold spring night. Fairchild's car was indeed full of packages and boxes in every available spot. "Let me drive you home," I volunteered. "You can leave the car overnight and call the garage and have them meet you here tomorrow."
Lucinda's skeptical look spoke volumes, although she tried to hide it. I was pleased to see she had some wariness. So many women equated a handsome face with a trustworthy man. How wrong they were. "I live sort of far away," she said. "In Burnsville, in the south metro."
"That's perfect," I lied. "I have to drop something off at a friend's house in Chanhassen. That's close, isn't it?" I knew it was. I had cruised by her house on a recon. "Perhaps Mr. Fairchild could follow to make sure you arrive safely."
They exchanged looks, then Lucinda and he huddled, Fairchild's gaze flickering to me, then back to Lucinda as they spoke.
The dog snuffled around her legs. They're talking about you. Trying to decide if you're trustworthy.
What are they saying? I asked.
Ah, that would be eavesdropping. That's not nice. He moved aside as Fairchild turned to me.
"I can do that," he said. "I can't stay, though."
"Excellent." I didn't give Lucinda a chance to disagree. "You can call the garage as we drive." I gestured toward my car. "I'm just parked there."
Fairchild's eyes widened when he saw the Jaguar S-4.2. "That's your car?"
"What about him?" Lucinda touched the dog, who leaned against her and shivered dramatically.
Stop it, I hissed. You can't go home with her, so quit it.
She petted him. "We should take him to the Humane Society." The animal pressed against her side, seeking her protection. His pale blue eyes watched me with a predatory assessment that was unnerving. "It's snowing. We should take him there tonight." She looked hopefully at me.
I glanced at my watch. "It's almost six. Are they still open?"
Nope, the dog said smugly.
"I don't think so," Lucinda admitted. "I suppose he can stay in my garage tonight, but it's cold. I wonder ..."
I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "He's not coming home with me. Absolutely not."
"I can't," Fairchild said. "I'm allergic, you know that."
"Oh." She sighed. "He'll have to come home with me then, I guess. But with the new kittens, I hope that he won't upset them or the mother."
Yummy, the dog murmured. Kittens. I hope they're friendly.
I knew when I was beat. I needed to get to know her and this would offer a good opportunity. My supposed benevolence would impress her. After all, she was a woman who rescued abandoned kittens, fought strange men over puppy abuse and petted mangy dogs. My temporary adoption of the loathsome creature would be a point in my favor.
Don't forget she's also a woman who trusts a man like you, the dog pointed out. That proves how sweet she is.
"Just for the night," I said between clenched teeth. I had to interrogate the creature anyway. I may as well do it in the comfort of my own garage. There was no way I was letting him or his fleas into my home.
"Thank you," she said with a small laugh. "I keep saying that. You must be a lifesaver, I guess. I live far away, though. Are you sure...?"
Ha, the dog said sarcastically. Lifesaver--if she only knew.
"I'm glad to help," I said with a straight face. Shut up.
Fairchild glanced at his watch. "Slayer, I have to get going."
"I'll need a towel or something. He can't go in the backseat the way he is." I looked the dirty animal over from head to wagging tail.
"I have just the thing." Lucinda opened the Subaru, taking out a briefcase and laptop bag before extracting several things from the glove compartment and stuffing them in her denim bag. Then she opened the hatch. "I have a blanket here that will work."
I took the laptop and briefcase from her then put a light hand on her elbow, steering her toward my dark burgundy car. I glanced back at Fairchild. "I'll make sure to drive slowly."
He grinned, looking mischievous. "Don't worry. I'll keep up."
I tucked Lucinda and her bags into the front seat and spread the blanket in the back. "Get in," I said to the noxious animal, gesturing to the car.
Nice. He jumped in from the passenger side then settled in the back. Very cozy.
Don't get used to it. And don't drool on anything. "Give me directions," I said to Lucinda, buckling my seat belt.
"Take highway 69 south then west on 494 to Burnsville. I'll direct you from there. It's very good of you to take care of the poor dog. Really."
"I suppose I have the Easter spirit," I said modestly.
Bullshit.
Shut up.
She opened the cell phone again. "I'll make sure I can get someone out there to take care of the car tomorrow."
I drove out of the crowded shopping district. Despite the snow, there was a feeling of spring in the air with the knowledge that the end of winter was in sight. In Minnesota that always brought a sense of relief that translated to increased pedestrian activity. People were out and about, thinking about warmth and shopping for pastel Easter baskets and spring fashions regardless of the snow that still blew.
I saw Fairchild in the BMW behind us, staying close. It was slow going because of rush hour. It took us almost ten minutes to get to the highway, where traffic was moving at a crawl. I glanced in the mirror. The dog regarded me with an intelligent look in his pale eyes. A shock of black hair tumbled over his sloping forehead, reminding me of myself as a child when my hair was forever getting in my face.
How could you have information? I asked.
He panted, drooled, then gulped. It was one of the least attractive things I've ever seen an animal do. I was told you needed help.
By who?
He scratched behind one ear, the enormous paw with its nails making a thunk-thunk noise against his head. Let's just say from The Powers That Be.
Lucinda closed the phone and held it on her lap in a mittened hand. "All taken care of?" I asked.
"Yep. John said he'd give me a ride tomorrow and I'll meet the garage guy at my car." She pulled off her mittens, which dangled from her coat sleeves on clips. "Nice wheels." She smoothed her hand over the beige leather seats.
"I enjoy driving a good car." I thought of her dirt-encrusted, ten-year-old Subaru. I did a complete financial workup on her and she could afford better. I wondered why she didn't splurge. "It makes a commute more pleasant."
She made a disparaging noise. "Peo
ple like you don't commute."
I shot her a startled look as I slowed to allow a car onto the road in front of me. "What does that mean?"
"People like you own companies. People who own companies don't commute." She tapped the wood trim on the dash. "This is a pricey car."
She made it sound like a crime to own a luxury car. "I can afford it."
"Hmm."
She appeared out of sorts with my choice of vehicle. I decided to change the subject. "Are the kittens ill?"
"What?"
"You said someone was with your cats. Are they ill?"
The lights from an oncoming truck illuminated her face. I saw distress, worry and anger flicker in her eyes. "One kitten already died and I'm afraid another one will too. My neighbor has been checking on them while I'm at work."
Poor babies, the dog murmured from the backseat. I glanced in the mirror. The animal was looking at Lucinda and I could have sworn I saw sympathy in his eyes.
I mulled her statement over for a moment. "Why?" I finally asked.
"Why what?"
"Why care for them?"
I saw only her eyes as she turned to look at me. The rest of her face had fallen into shadow. "Because I found them. Because I can."
I heard the heavy sense of responsibility in her words. I understood such a feeling. It's what motivated me so long ago to become a Guide with the History Patrol. On my last time-trip, I was sent back from 2195 to 1790 New York to apprehend Robert Meyer, a notorious genetic engineer. As always, Persa, my shapeshifting Companion, accompanied me. I'd never seen Persa in human form but had come to know and love her gentle wit and sweet temperament. We were inseparable until that cursed day.
We found Meyer, but he eluded us, injecting me with his damn virus. I died, only to come back to life moments later with Persa by my side, her throat slashed. She'd gone in wolf's form that day. Her sleek lean body was warm and limp as the blood pooled around us.
