by Tom Andry
It was true; if they wanted reimbursement from The Super State, they'd need third party confirmation that they were there. I didn't want or need their help and I had too many other things to do to wait around for a bunch of cops to write a bunch of reports.
"But all the supers are dead!" a woman cried out, hysteria tainting the last word.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course they aren't," I answered quickly. "We just saw two...no, three just now."
"Does anyone else have powers?" a man with an open cut on his forehead called out. No one responded. "Anyone?"
"She does," a man on the ground, wrapping a cut on his leg with a piece of his shirt, pointed.
All eyes turned to Nissa.
"She saved us," a voice called out. Murmurs of confirmation tinged with awe.
I looked down at the small girl still in my arms. She was once again breathing deeply and regularly, her eyes closed, her face peaceful. There was no sign at all that she was capable of driving away the most powerful super on the planet. So far, everyone was too shocked and distracted to notice me carrying a child in what was, until a few minutes ago, an S&M club. Not that they'd remember after I turned my back. Nineteen's power would take care of that.
"You're right," I confirmed, knowing that no other answer would suffice. "I think there's an exit back here. If any of you want to leave, you can follow me. I've got to get her to some help. If she actually managed to scare off The Raven, we need to get her back on her feet before he comes back."
I hated to do it. These people didn't deserve to be scared again. Not after everything they'd just been through. But I didn't see an option. Their eyes told them that Nissa had saved them. Even if they could have seen Nineteen's involvement, and I didn't see how they could have, there was no way they'd remember as soon as we left.
The crowd had gone back to talking among themselves. I tried not to grimace as TOP was immediately mentioned. Of course a group of tippys would think of Liz's organization. In most cases, Liz would already be on her way to take statements from any affected tippys. It was fortunate that at the same moment a woman started complaining about getting reimbursed for her jewelry that the metal man had co-opted, a tall man stepped forward.
His head was down as he exited the group, but he looked up as he approached me. I recognized him immediately. I'd seen his angular face and winning smile on the back covers of books I'd browsed but hadn't bought, and as a reporter on one of those news shows. He was, in every sense of the phrase, tall, dark, and handsome. His skin was the deep black of someone who had only recently immigrated, which only made his hazel eyes and white teeth all the more striking. He was a writer who went undercover to get inside and expose different organizations and communities. I remembered once hearing him talk about human trafficking and maybe something about the Super State's monopoly on drugs. I didn't really pay attention to such things, mostly using the television to help me fall asleep rather than to keep up with the world and news.
"Well, a fine mess you've gotten me into," he said with half a smile.
"Excuse me?"
"Moore, right? The PI?"
"That's me. And you're that guy..."
"Dirk Dirtwater."
"You're shitting me."
He rolled his eyes, "Comes with the job. People expect you to have a name that..."
"Matches."
"Yeah. I see you never succumbed to the pressure."
"What, Bob Moore doesn't sound like a PI?"
"My name sounds more like one."
"Your name sounds retarded."
He shrugged and rubbed his close-cropped hair that was receding from the corners of his forehead, "I know. Didn't pick it." He extended his hand, "Alan. My friends call me Alan."
"Bob," I shook it, adjusting Nineteen to one side to do so. It was nice to meet a tippy. They didn't try to stare you down or intimidate you. Well, certain cops excluded. "Alan. Now that sounds like a reporter."
He laughed lightly, "You sure there's a back way out?"
"Pretty sure. Yeah."
He nodded at my arms, "What's with the girl?"
I narrowed my eyes, "Would you believe this is a rescue mission?"
He smirked back, "Would you believe I'm here on a story?"
We both paused for a second, considering.
I nodded at Nissa, "Can you manage? I've got my hands full."
"You get me out of here before the authorities show up, and I'll give you a lift home." He bent down and lifted Nissa easily, "Can't believe she did it."
"Yeah, me neither," I responded, anger edging my voice from Nissa's betrayal.
He paused, studying me, "Why do I get the impression there is more going on here than you're letting on?"
I turned and started to walk out. None of the other people made a move to join us, which was probably for the best. I responded over my shoulder, "Why do I get the impression your wife doesn't know you're here?" I deflected.
"What do you mean?" he stammered.
"Just because you're black doesn't mean you don't tan." I stopped and looked pointedly at his left hand. He stopped, eyes wide. "Nice blush," I added. "She must be a very special woman." I turned and continued around the scaffolding.
A moment later, his footsteps resumed, quickly at first, then slowed as he pulled alongside me, "Now that's interesting."
"What?"
"Having someone get the upper hand on me in a conversation."
I laughed, "It happens to the best of us."
As we rounded the pile of rubble, a single, gaping door greeted us. Beyond, a barely visible stairway led up. From the moonlight, it was clear it led somehow to the street.
"And there we have it," I said, "Tay's secret exit."
"Doesn't look so secret to me."
"It was secret when that illusionist was alive. You could spend a month in here and never find it."
I kicked the door completely open with my foot. Together, Alan and I leaned into the doorway and looked up. The stairs were a mesh of metal leading up to a grate on the sidewalk. I didn't remember a grate on the sidewalk, but I had stopped questioning such things.
"She was his sister, you know."
"Huh?" I ducked back into the room, adjusting Nineteen in my arms.
"The illusionist. His sister. I knew she was involved in the club, but I didn't know how. When I saw a younger version of her at the front desk, I knew something was up. It all clicked into place when...he..." Alan faltered, "Well, you know."
"Yeah."
"I guess I never thought about it before."
"What?"
Alan shifted Nissa in his arms, "A tippy and a super being siblings."
I shrugged, "Tippys give birth to supers all the time. Not all of their kids have to be supers though."
"Yeah," he frowned. "I should have seen it, though. Should have guessed."
I started up the stairs, Alan a couple steps behind, "So, how'd you get in without anyone recognizing you? I scanned everyone there. I didn't see you."
"What? I couldn't be in one of the rooms?"
"I suppose. But I didn't see you until the end. And then there is that hole in your lapel."
He laughed appreciatively, "I see your reputation is well earned. Not a lot gets past you."
I shrugged, "I try. Force of habit now. When you work with supers, it pays to be on your toes."
"Fine. You're right. I wore a device that changed my appearance. Hurt like the dickens. Remolded the flesh. But I had to be sure it was infallible. No one could know. My face, you know."
"Yeah, sort of recognizable. Sucks to be famous."
We reached the street without having to remove the grate. Tay was nice enough to leave it open for us in his mad dash to safety. I stepped onto the sidewalk, glancing around to get my bearings.
Alan continued, "I tried to keep hold of it when that guy started grabbing all the metal, but in the end, he got it."
"Explains a lot. What street it this?" I looked around, confused. The night h
ad deepened and the street was nearly deserted. Across the street and halfway down the block was a black, nondescript sedan parked next to a motorcycle. To the left, there were a few other cars, but none were mine.
"I wanted to get in to see Master Tay."
I stopped looking for my car and looked at the reporter.
"You know, for the story," he added quickly. "Tonight was supposed to be the night. Had it planned for weeks."
"For the story."
"Yeah. And then you showed up. And suddenly he's too busy for anyone else."
I turned to him, "So, you've been to Inhumanitas before."
"Of course. For the story."
"Whatever. They mention me?"
He laughed again, "You're kidding, right? You topped the rules list. It wasn't written, but it was always said. Anyone who told you about the place would be banned or worse. Under no circumstances were you to know about the club."
I nodded grimly. Gale had played it right. Even with a high level illusionist, Tay's sister no less, they would be no match against the might of The Bulwark or even one of the other, lesser super groups. Keeping me out was a small price to pay. And patrons? They wouldn't risk being banned over telling me. It sort of explained a few things that'd often bothered me. For one, I'd never advertised and yet people always seemed to know me. Knew who I was and what I did. It was great for business, but now it made sense. With Tay telling everyone about me, they'd eventually want to know who I was. Then maybe they'd tell a friend since talking about me wasn't against the rules, just talking to me.
"I'm over here," Alan motioned to the black sedan. "Where you parked?"
I shook my head and stepped out into the street, "That's a good question," I muttered mostly to myself. I turned in a circle, remembering landmarks. With the stress and alcohol, it took a second. I looked up at Alan, Nissa looking heavier than before in his arms, "I think you're standing on me."
He looked down at the empty space where my car should have been, "Well, that's a problem."
"That stupid bastard," I spat. "He stole the first car he saw." I turned to Alan, "Looks like I'll be needing that ride after all."
He lips extended into a wide, white smile, genuine and warm. "Sounds good. Gives us a chance to get to know each other."
* * *
I kept Nineteen in my arms as Alan drove. He'd protested at first, but it wasn't like he had a car seat for her. I feigned that I didn't want to wake her, but the truth was that I didn't want her out of his sight long enough for Nineteen's power to kick in. A reporter like Alan would figure out she was a telepath, or at least a super, without a problem. He'd also be smart enough to write something down when he did. When she left his sight, I wanted her someplace safe. Someplace where he wouldn't see her again. I could see this was going to turn into a longer conversation than just the ride home, so I had to be sure.
The car turned out to be a rental, hired under a false name. Through his news agency or whoever funded his stories, no doubt. It was probably true that he was in there for a story. He didn't strike me as the type who would lie to his wife. But if his face was caught on the evening news, the jig would be up. Anyone with something to lose would guess he'd been working on a story on the S&M club and would go into cover-up mode. Those who could, would do anything in their power to bury the story. Even though Inhumanitas was essentially no more, it'd still make for some compelling television. Plus, who knew how much work Alan had put into the story?
"So you don't live far?"
"No," I settled Nineteen down on my lap, pushing the hair from her face. She was still comfortably asleep and I hoped she'd stay that way. When she awoke, I didn't know what she would do and I surely didn't want witnesses. Especially not a reporter. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm sure you can figure that out on your own."
I nodded, smiling.
"So, seriously, what's the deal with the girl?"
I looked at the profile of Alan's face as he drove. He was a reporter - there was no way I could tell him the truth and chances were he'd know I was lying. The trick was coming up with a lie that was close enough to the truth that he'd swallow it, thinking he could read through the lines to the rest of it. And to make sure his assumptions were wrong.
"I was in there for information. About Liz Novac?"
"The TOP girl?"
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
"You're a reporter, you tell me."
"Been a little focused lately, Bob."
"Fine, you heard about the fire?"
"Yeah?"
It was clear he hadn’t. He really had been focused.
"There was a fire at the TOP office. Liz was hurt. I wanted to find out who was responsible...or at least what happened. Tay was my only lead."
"And did it pan out?"
I nodded, looking out the side window to hide the determination and anger in my eyes.
"You going to tell me?"
"Not a chance, reporter."
He smiled, "Fair enough. But that doesn't explain the girl."
I exhaled, "I can't. She was there, with Tay when we were meeting with him. When it all went down and it was clear his men were going to lose, he ran out. Just left her there." I let my sentence trail off.
Alan nodded, his eyes narrowed in thought. He might buy the lack of information on face value. He might. But if he was as good a reporter as I suspected, he'd remember my history. He'd remember that I had a daughter that had died at childbirth. He'd assume that I couldn't have left the girl because of that.
He'd be right.
"Hmm...I wonder what she was doing there?" Alan murmured.
"Got me." I thought about adding more, but forced myself to stay silent. Let Alan wonder. If her power was still in effect, he'd have until we got home to do so.
A thought occurred to me. A droplet of sweat beaded up at my temple as I felt my skin flush. I reached forward quickly and popped open the glove compartment. I exhaled audibly as I saw what I feared - a small, reel-to-reel recorder hooked up to a number of wires. It wasn't much of a stretch to piece together that the wires led to microphones around the car. I looked over at Alan.
His eyebrows were raised in mock surprise, "Now, how did that get in there?"
"Yeah, right." I closed the hatch slowly, "If that had been on, this conversation would have ended very differently.
"Now, would I do that to a fellow tippy?"
"I should certainly hope not." I added, softer, "At least without reason."
"That's come in handy on more than one occasion, you know."
"I bet."
It was a happy coincidence. Alan was too busy thinking about the recorder to think about the girl. We were close to my place and the remainder of the conversation consisted of directions. When we got there, I excused myself to bring the girl upstairs and disable the alarm. He didn't have to know how sophisticated my system was. At this point, neither did I. It was closing in on midnight and I was exhausted. But I couldn't let this opportunity pass.
I set Nineteen down on a chair at the end of the hall in my living space where I'd see her as soon as I opened the hidden door from my office. When I forgot about her, I needed her somewhere I knew I would notice. I thought about in front of the refrigerator or my bed, but I might decide not to eat, or go to bed without turning on the lights. I knew I'd at least see her when I opened the hidden door from my office. When I arrived back in my office, Alan was just laying Nissa down on the couch.
"Nice place," he glanced around appreciatively. "Live in back, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Love the hidden door."
I laughed, happy he didn't have the angle to see to the end of the hall beyond that door. It slid into place as I moved away. I hoped the "Visitor Status" I'd awarded Alan told the security system not to open it for the reporter, "It's not all that big of a secret. I leave it open half the time. What's your poison?" I sat down and opened my desk drawer with the scotch and glasses.
He plo
pped down in the reinforced guest chair, "This time of night, brandy or cognac." He patted the armrests, "Wow, sturdy!"
I pulled out two glasses and a decanter filled with "the good stuff"; I had cheaper stuff for clients but the events of the night called for something better, "Scotch it is. I'd offer you rum, but I'm plumb out." I poured two fingers of the amber liquid into the glasses and handed him one. "I wouldn't try leaning back in that chair, it's bolted down. You know, just in case."
He laughed, sipping slowly. After he swallowed, he looked at the liquid and nodded, "Peaty."
"Only the good stuff for my friends."
"Is that what we are?"
"For now." I sipped, "So far, at least."
He set the glass down carefully, taking his time, "I've been wanting to meet you for a while, Bob. Way I see it, we're in the same line of work."
"Is that how you see it."
"Don't you?"
"Maybe. As I see it, you are a scum reporter."
"And you're a fleabag PI. Makes us even in my book."
"I'd like to read that book."
"And I'd like to see the one with all the true names of the supers."
It was my turn to sip and think. I smiled, "It's late, reporter. I have a feeling you and I could fence all night. Let's just get to the point. What do you want?"
He smiled, his eyes probing, "Nothing, PI. Just an open line of communication. I'm sure there are things I could help you with. And vice versa."
I nodded, "I have a feeling the 'versa' is already in the works."
His expression remained neutral, "I just want you to know that I'm willing to help. That's all."
"Noted."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, placing it on the desk. "So, what's your plan with her?"
I tensed, "Who?"
His eyes narrowed and he tossed his head back at the couch and the sleeping form of Nissa, "Our savior."
"Right," I rubbed my eyes. "She must be exhausted. Let her sleep it off I suppose." I nodded at the hand holding his drink, "Don't forget about your ring."
"Oh!" He reached down into a pocket on the back side of his belt, "Thanks." He pulled out the ring and replaced it on his finger. He tipped back his glass one last time and set it down on the edge of his card.
