by Anton Strout
I adjusted the mike and their voices came in loud and clear.
“What’s up, boss?” she said.
“Good evening, Jane. I trust you’re enjoying your time off tonight?”
Jane looked at the unopened bag of Chinese food in her hand.
“Oh yeah,” she said with mock enthusiasm. “It’s a regular party at my place, sir.”
“I’m afraid your party will have to wait,” he said. “I’ve got some errands I need done.”
He really didn’t get the whole sarcasm thing. Perhaps it had something to do with that dark, brooding European sensibility of his. Or maybe he just didn’t get idioms.
I knew that a lot of people would be bothered if their time off was constantly interrupted, but after my dinner with Jane, I knew she was probably making the best of the situation in her head already. I bet she was thinking, Doesn’t Chinese reheat just fine?
I watched through high-tech optical headgear as she walked over to the fridge and tossed the bag in next to four others. Thanks to the power of the electronic eyes, I could even make out the other packages in there: one Mexican, one Italian, and two other Chinese.
“Where do you need me, sir?” She slammed the refrigerator door shut.
“Do you have something black to wear?”
“Of course,” she said as she crossed her kitchen.
Over dinner, she had actually said that day one of her Human Resources training, the Sectarians had sent her out with a corporate credit card to pick up a variety of outfits…all of them in black. The corporate equivalent of hairnets, paper hats, and smocks for the forces of Darkness, I guessed.
“Good, good,” Faisal said. “Wear something you can be flexible in.”
“Flexible, sir?” she said, puzzled. “Like a leotard?”
My mind wandered as the image of her in clingy clothing filled it. She was working for evil, but even evil could be hot, right?
Faisal chuckled on the other end of the line. “No no, my dear. Flexible as in the ‘I’m going to be climbing, spying, and gee, I hope I don’t get caught’ kind of flexible.”
“Oh, that kind.”
“Yes, that kind.”
“I’m sure I have something,” Jane said, and headed out of her living room into the darkness of the next room over. I switched the goggles over to night vision and suddenly had a perfect view of her bedroom lit in a wash of monochromatic green. The goggles read body heat and I couldn’t help but notice the red-blue swirls it picked up and the curves of her figure. Torn between gentlemanly respect and a sense of duty, I forced myself to keep watching. She headed straight to a chest of drawers. It was already open and clothes hung out of it in disarray. Jane started pawing through them. “May I inquire as to my mission?”
“You may indeed. I need you to check out those two men from the incident at our offices the other afternoon. I need you to tell me if one of them isn’t talking to someone.”
Jane’s face scrunched up, confused, and I found I was making the same face underneath the goggles. Isn’t talking to someone…?
She continued to rummage through her chest of drawers. “I’m sorry?”
“I beg your pardon,” corrected Faisal. “I need you to tell me if one of them is talking to someone who isn’t.”
Jane held up a shirt and stretched it across her body. Slimming, a bit tight, but if she was caught spying, she’d look dynamite in it. Perfect choice.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. Bane.”
“Then follow this!” he barked, causing me to reach for the volume on the headphones.
This was the Faisal I had expected. Jane nearly dropped the phone. She stopped fussing with the shirt and gave Faisal her full attention. “Thanks to that careless object retrieval you scheduled, one of my pet projects has been compromised, Jane. Some very important enemies are becoming all too aware of the Sectarian Defense League’s goings-on and I’m blaming this wholly on you.”
“Sir, the agent I sent to Ms. Blatt’s on the retrieval—”
“Was still your agent, Jane. You do take responsibility for people under your command, I assume?”
Jane was getting nervous. She started pacing and fell silent.
What could she say? I knew she was way out of her league, probably had been from day one. Right that moment, though, she had to think fast to please her boss. Her newfound career with the S.D.L. was on the line. How she handled Faisal would affect whether she lived or died, even if she wasn’t fully aware of the severity of her situation.
She seemed so small and insecure just then. I wanted to help her out, even if she was playing for Team Evil. I wished I could send thought waves to her. Keep in mind where your bread is buttered and you’ll know to please him above all else to survive.
As if in response, Jane’s face calmed and she said, “Yes, of course I’m responsible for what my people do, sir.”
“Good,” he said, softening. Monochrome Jane relaxed even further. “That’s what I like to hear. Now when I said ‘I need you to find if one of them is talking to someone who isn’t,’ I meant just that. It is tragic that the Department of Extraordinary Affairs knows about our existence now, but their bursting into our offices was not a total waste of my precious time. There was something one of them said that made me think. They implied they were working with someone I personally know to be out of the picture. Do you follow?”
“I think so, sir.”
“Excellent. You take care of this for me, Jane, and you’ll make me a very happy man. And if you find that this person who isn’t is still around, I expect you to correct the situation. Do you understand or should I use more monosyllabic words?”
Jane sighed and began to search through a sock drawer. She pushed the socks aside and pulled a gun out from underneath them.
“I’ll do my best, sir.” She held it by two fingers like it was a dead fish and then checked the safety before sliding the gun neatly into the back of her belt.
“See that you do,” Faisal said. “I’ll expect a full report on my desk in the morning.”
Jane threw the phone onto the bed and wrestled her way into the black top she had picked out. This time I watched unabashed. She pulled her blond hair back into a manageable ponytail, and I tried to figure out how a relatively sweet girl had come to toting a gun. She must have marveled at all the changes in her life over the past few months, the feeling of importance that came with newfound power and security. I was pretty sure that no temp job had ever let her have a gun before. She probably chalked up carrying a piece as part of her “benefits package.”
She walked back into her living room and began looking through a stack of folders she had spread out on the coffee table earlier in the evening. I was startled when she picked one of them up and flipped it open to a photograph of me standing in the Sectarians’ reception area. I was a little flattered that I was the one whom she meant to spy on. And obviously Irene was the “someone who isn’t” that Faisal was looking for.
Jane wasn’t a killer…was she? I knew she was after Irene, but would she kill me if I got in the way? I didn’t know her well enough after our two encounters, but it had felt like there was a tiny bit of chemistry between us the other night during dinner. Would that prevent her from sending me to the big dirt nap in the sky? Asinine questions—especially those regarding my attraction to a cultist—would have to wait. I had to get back to my place before she did.
I hastily packed my equipment while watching Jane pack hers. I was thrilled to see that she wasn’t in possession of a parabolic mike, which meant she wouldn’t be able to listen in on my apartment the way I had on hers. That was some relief.
I took one last look. Jane was so sinisterly cute, and everything felt more confusing than ever.
I just prayed she wouldn’t have to use her “benefits package” on me.
18
I raced back to my apartment in record time. I had to be there to keep Irene safe. I knew Jane would be watching the two of us in much
the same way I had been watching her, and while I felt the whole procedure was just as invasive, I had to admit the prospect was strangely exciting. Knowing ahead of time that someone was going to be watching me all stalkerlike was a godsend. It meant I stood a better chance of controlling the situation.
Now Jane would be the voyeur and I would be the one on display. The possibility that she might attempt to shoot me or do something to Irene did take some of the intrigue out of the sitch, though. But I figured that if I could get the curtains drawn in the living room before Jane got to my apartment, Irene and I would be relatively safe.
On the way home I made the decision not to tell Irene about our possible surveillance. Irene had enough on her plate without needing the added burden of worrying over someone who probably couldn’t do her harm anyway—and I needed Irene to be calm and relaxed. I couldn’t have her flickering in and out with nerves if I was going to keep her safe.
When I got back home, Irene was in my living room marveling over the woodwork of a cabinet I had picked up in New Hampshire. Her gaze was so fixed on the piece that she barely registered I was in the room. She looked up as I shut the door behind me and locked it. I ran to the windows and hastily pulled the curtains over each of them. I started pushing crates and boxes out of the way and up against the bank of windows.
“Hello,” said Irene. “Tough day at the office?”
I forced a laugh and was thrilled to see how calm and content she was. Her body looked solid as a rock, not a hint of transparency. “Why don’t you have a seat?” I said, moving a stack of books from the couch to give her more room. “I’m just going to tidy up a bit.”
“Now?” she said, with a giggle that gave way to uproarious laughter. The reaction was so cartoonish, so out of character, that I wondered if maybe she was beginning to degrade, as Connor had warned she would. “But it’s so late!”
“Well, better late than never, right?” I said.
I threw myself down on the couch, checking to make sure my bat was still hanging from my belt. Jane had to be outside spying by now, and God only knew what she might do. If she made a move on the apartment, I wanted to be ready. Irene sat at the far end of the couch staring at me. She seemed to have settled back to her normal, refined self.
It was funny how small talk seemed hard to come by when I really needed it. There were so many topics I wanted to avoid right now to keep Irene in good spirits. The biggest elephant in the conversational room, of course, was her own case, which she naturally brought up.
“Dare I ask if there are any new developments?”
“Be patient,” I said, looking over toward the windows. I spun around and checked the door. “Something will come up. There’s nothing new.”
Unless I counted the fact that I knew Faisal Bane was interested in her, but I didn’t think telling Irene that would be terribly calming. Instead, I did what I did best when I felt uncomfortable. I rambled.
We had antiques as a common ground after all. I told her about all the wonderful pieces I had seen back at her apartment, leaving out the fact that most of them were smashed to bits. The mere mention of so many of her things kept her fascinated, and did the trick of making her seem all the more alive. A strong part of me wanted to forget that she was no longer living.
The threat of Jane slowly faded from my thoughts as I became more and more immersed in my conversation with Irene. But just when I was lulled into a real sense of comfort, a commotion arose somewhere outside my wall of windows.
“Wesker, no!” a male voice shouted from the rooftop across the way.
The windows were shut, but the shout cut through them. The thunderous din of something or someone crashing full force into the alleyway below rang out. I threw the sash up on the window and chanced a look outside. Lights throughout the building were coming on, and several others people were already poking their heads out. It was too dark to make out anything distinct in the alley below, and I gave up trying to see anything when a rapid knocking sounded at the door.
“What’s going on?” Irene said nervously. I looked over at her and her body flickered briefly due to her sudden emotional state.
“Keep it together, Irene,” I said, running for the door.
When I opened it, two men stood there: Inspectre Argyle Quimbley and Thaddeus Wesker of Greater & Lesser Arcana. The old Brit looked positively winded, but Wesker just looked pissed off. He pushed his way into the apartment and Quimbley stumbled in behind him, clutching his side. I was stunned by their sudden appearance at my apartment, and in the middle of the night no less. No one from work had ever been here before. Well, unless you counted Irene. I shut the door and ran for the window, pulling the curtain down again now that Jane had four potential targets to choose from. Wesker was staring darkly at Irene.
“What’s she doing here?” he spat out.
“Excuse me,” Irene said, heading angrily toward Wesker at a fast float. “Am I not in the room?”
“What’s going on?” I asked, quickly stepping between her and Wesker. Irene stopped in her tracks. “What the hell was that? Inspectre, was that you I heard calling out?”
Quimbley nodded in response, and gulped down a deep breath as he gathered his composure, starting with grooming his walrus like mustache.
“Wesker intercepted some intel from the Sectarians,” the Inspectre said, “regarding both you and Connor showing up at their offices. He learned that even though they now have possession of the fish artifact, they were still particularly interested in Ms. Blatt. All we know is that someone was very keen on finding her and was sending someone after you. So rather than involving the Enchancellors at this point, I convinced Wesker to keep things quiet and we decided to investigate the situation ourselves. Neither of our divisions wanted the red tape and triplicate forms of openly declaring a joint venture. We tried getting you on your cell, but you didn’t answer. We feared the worst.”
“I turned it off because I was on a surveillance mission!” I said defensively. “One you sent me on!”
The Inspectre was wheezing now.
“Sir, are you okay?”
He nodded. “Ripping good rooftops in SoHo. Took me a bit of effort to climb up to the top of the building next to you, though. That’s when we observed a woman in black moving into position near your apartment. Striking-looking young lady.”
“That would be Jane,” I muttered quietly. The two of them stared at me blankly. I kept my voice low, hoping Irene couldn’t overhear. “Bane’s errand girl? The one you sent me to watch tonight? Look, I know Jane was watching me. I had everything under control here.”
Wesker perked up at the mention of her. “On a first-name basis now, are you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head perhaps just a bit too much. “She was just there when Connor and I first encountered the Sectarians. When I went a little bat happy in their reception area.”
“You realize how bad that’s going to look for your future at the Department, don’t you?” Wesker said.
I smiled weakly. “Sorry,” I added.
“Nonsense,” Quimbley said, “happens to the best of us at times, my boy. Now, where was I?”
Wesker’s face tightened and he looked like he wanted to strangle the Inspectre right there in my living room.
“I believe you were moving in on Jane…” I offered.
“Ah yes!” the Inspectre said, eyes lighting up. “Yes. Anyway, Jane had lowered herself over the edge of the building across from yours, and before I knew it, Wesker was sprinting across the rooftops like some damned fool superhero. Before I could catch up, he pulled a switchblade and flicked it through her tie-off line. I tried to call out, but alas, too late.”
It was true that Jane was with the enemy here, had even brought a gun to deal with us if she had found Irene in my apartment. Still, it bothered me to think of her being harmed. That was a gut-wrencher I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t imagine Wesker killing her in cold blood. We had procedures and protocols in place for the handling
of humans under the influence of dark forces. But then again, it was Wesker we were talking about.
“He didn’t kill her, did he?” Irene asked suddenly.
Quimbley shook his head. “I don’t think so. When I looked over the edge of the rooftop, I couldn’t tell.”
Wesker stepped forward.
“Enough of this concern for the enemy,” he said and glared at Irene over my shoulder. “What is she doing here?”
I tried to look past Wesker, seeking guidance from Quimbley, but all the old man could do was look at me sympathetically.
“Don’t look at him,” Wesker shouted. “Answer me! What is she doing here?”
I tried to compose myself, keeping my anger over his tone in check, but the best I could do was sarcasm.
“I’m sorry, Director Wesker,” I said. “I didn’t realize that the Division of Greater and Lesser Arcana had generously provided accommodations for clients such as Miss Blatt. I suppose that’s why no one noticed her or helped her all day when she arrived. When I stopped by the office on my way home the other night, I found her pushed aside just like another stack of paperwork. The woman was practically beside herself. So tell me, where do you propose we have Ms. Blatt stay while the investigation is ongoing?”
“We’re not in the practice of running a boardinghouse for wayward ghosts,” Wesker said testily.
“You’re not in the practice of providing accommodations for any of the entities we deal with,” I said, shouting. “Unless you count containment, of course, but Irene’s not a prisoner.”
“You want to watch your tone with me, Canderous,” Wesker said.
“Or what?” I was losing what little patience I had. Connor had warned me several times before about my handling of superiors at the D.E.A., but Wesker was being openly hostile in the presence of the Inspectre, so I wasn’t afraid. Sure, the man was dangerously ambitious and everyone knew he had it in for the Inspectre, but Quimbley was respected throughout the entire organization—and a lifetime member of the Fraternal Order of Goodness to boot! Thaddeus Wesker knew he would never be as well liked as the Inspectre and that frosted his biscuit. His general mistreatment of me was just ineffectual lashing out.
