by P. S. Power
Unless they were planning an attack, noticing her breakfast seemed relatively harmless. Unless… it was a trick to distract her from paying attention somewhere else. She looked around, but didn’t see anything except people eating their own meals and a few people watching through the windows at the front of the place. Brian was sitting directly beside her and got more than his share of attention from the watchers, considering they had actually celebrities in the room with them, but Karen just smiled and put an arm over Marcia’s back, sitting on the other side of her as she was.
“It looks like the press is getting in. Would you trade seats with me? That or start feeling Brian up? Charlot wants us to point out that I’m not a lesbian again.” She leaned in closely, just being friendly by nature. It got confusing for the press at times though.
“Sure, we can switch, but if you really want to sell the whole straight thing, you might not want to get that close to me or the other women on camera. Just saying.” She smiled though. It was darned hard not to like Karen. The woman was probably her best friend in the whole world most days. She pushed the plates around and changed places with her. Lady Glory was dating Proxy after all. They were sharing a room and everything.
That wouldn’t keep people from making false claims though. Reporters pretty much just made up half the news anyway now. They had for a long time, but it was starting to get really bad as the newspapers died out. The ones left were mainly tabloids and that meant the remaining few real ones had to step up and become competitive with those to even have a chance. In a few more years even the Times and the Herald would probably be filled with gossip and innuendo.
The day was pretty busy it turned out, for the people attending the conference specifically. For the others not so much. Unless they wanted to attend the various events, or help with them. Mark and Warren pointed out that they were supposed to come up with decorative cakes for a competition later in the day, even though they didn’t have anything planned. It was a last minute thing, since the guys from a cake decorating show the network had decided to come and challenged “Steinberg and Friends” to a contest. They’d cheated of course, coming with some advanced equipment and some cakes already made up.
“Good work too, I peeked. Still, we should try. Even if we lose badly. We don’t want to seem like poor sports or anything.” Mark spoke gently, which was something he almost always did, except on his show. It was part of how he coped with his first mode, an otherwise crippling fear of nearly everything. If he got too scared, he’d freeze time around him until he could calm down. That he wasn’t jumping in place, coming in and out of his powers field of effect over the contest showed he probably wasn’t that worked up over the idea. Even if the other guys were cheating.
Brian shrugged.
“I’d help, but unless you need something microwaved I’m kind of useless in the kitchen. Still, I’m here if anything that I can help with comes up. Floor scrubbing or whatever.” He sounded cold about the whole thing, probably wondering if this new contest was just being put together to make them all look bad. It clearly was. Marcia could see that, the question was only, why was it being set up like it was? There was a lack of information there. It could be the network, or the people from the other show. It could even just be general hazing, since “Steinberg and Friends” was the new show on the channel. Or it might have been people trying to get them, for being Infected, or the lesser version of that where they merely wanted to show they were better than the Infected.
She had things to do, and couldn’t help, but the others all agreed to do whatever was needed, so it would probably be enough. The hard part was that Mark and Warren had panels they had to be on as well, about different aspects of the show. The crew that normally filmed it was due in later that day too, she thought, the director and all that, but they wouldn’t help with cake decorating at all. It wasn’t in their contracts.
That meant that Kerry would have to be in charge of getting the basic work done, and Denis would be her main helper for the day, with Scott working back-up for them in the kitchen. It would keep people busy though, so she was all for it. That meant the picnic was set as a late dinner on the beach. Warren grabbed that one and ran with it, so all she had to do was sit while people finished eating and figure out what the heck she was going to be doing for the day. If the leads panned out she’d need to go and check on the places that the missing men had used their cards. That would take a car and some back-up. As well as a change of clothing. Strictly speaking it wasn’t legal for the IPB to be investigating anything that didn’t have an Infected person involved directly, and by law that didn’t include her. That meant they couldn’t require anyone to hand over tapes or anything, if they even existed anymore.
If she could take Lancaster and Reyes though, it might still work. They could just announce themselves and pretend they had a right to the information. It wasn’t illegal for them to look at things like that, not specifically. They just couldn’t require anyone to hand things over. The police, and more likely the FBI, would freak if they found out that the IPB was looking into something like this though. Even if it wasn’t anything official. Those guys could be territorial. It was a real problem most of the time. Worse right now, because Marcia wasn’t even certain anything was happening at all. Just because the computer said so, that didn’t make it real.
It meant that after the others had started floating away for the day, led by Mark for the most part, all she had to do was wait for a while. Back in the agents’ room with Lancaster and Reyes, since they were the team making the calls to check out the information they’d received. It sounded straight forward on paper, but Marcia knew the score on that one, having been involved in similar things before. Data checking wasn’t just about confirming the facts alone. No, it was about doing it in a way that people trying to fake things might not have thought of. At least if they were going up against anyone good.
She listened as a friendly sounding Lancaster pretended to be Harpo’s brother, checking to make sure he was all right, calling a neighbor to go and check on him, since he couldn’t get in touch and was out of state. That ploy worked for the men, but when it came time to check on the women that might be missing they had to be more delicate.
So they lied and claimed to be from the IRS. It worked well, a lot better than just claiming to be a relative did. People protected women from strangers most of the time and got suspicious when personal questions were asked. The IRS was known for being nosy though, so as long as they didn’t go over the top about the whole thing, people didn’t really think anything particular of it. Especially once they put Marcia on the phone. People weren’t nearly as afraid of women after all.
“No sir, nothing like that. We just have some paperwork that needs to be completed before the end of the week. If Miss Morris can’t get it in on time it could end up being a rather sizable fine for her, but otherwise she should be all right. It really doesn’t look bad at all. We really just need her to mail in a signed document as soon as possible, but we haven’t been able to get in touch with her. It’s part of a new program, reaching out to make sure we don’t seem like the bad guys all the time. It’s a hard road, but we really are trying our best to work with people.” She held her breath, the man on the other end was a college student, and seemed a bit protective of his neighbor, one dorm room over. He probably had a crush on her.
He agreed to go and check, even though he hadn’t seen her in a few days. That wasn’t abnormal though, he assured her. Ten minutes later he told them that there was no answer at the door at all.
Normally that wouldn’t mean much, it being early in the day, since Beth had classes. She also had a roommate however, who he managed to find in the hallway. He put her on without waiting to ask if he should.
“Hello?” The young voice sounded timid, but then who wasn’t with the IRS?
“Hi, I’m looking for Beth Morris; do you know when she might be in later? This is pretty important.” She didn’t fill in the IRS thing and t
he voice didn’t ask about it.
“I haven’t seen her for days. Some guy came and she just left, packed her things and took off. She didn’t seem right, but no one is doing anything about it at all. The school won’t tell me what’s going on. I called the police, but they told me people leave school all the time, so they aren’t really interested in it. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”
A few more minutes of question confirmed the basic idea to Marcia. Harpo from the old unit had come and gotten Beth Morris late at night a few days before. The roommate remembered that Beth had called him Uncle Rick. He’d been nice enough, friendly even, but had been firm on the idea that there was a family emergency and that she needed to leave with him right then. As far as the roomie knew no one else had been there at all.
The rest of the calls showed nearly the same thing. One of the guys from the old team would show up and collect the person or people, not using any force at all, or making threats, just stating it was a “family emergency” quite clearly and just drive them away. It was a bit odd, and could mean any of about a dozen things, but it did tell them that so far at least Cal’s story was playing out. That meant they needed to get back in touch with him too, as soon as they could, and see about getting everything he knew.
They had no clue where he was though.
Instead of fighting through that mess on the phone, she decided to see about getting a car to check on the physical locations they needed to. It took longer than she’d thought to arrange, and cost more which came out of her pocket since it wasn’t official, but by eleven they had one ready to go, complete with a GPS system programmed with the locations they needed. There were three sites and all of them in different directions on the outskirts of the city, meaning they probably weren’t close to where anyone was being kept. Lancaster drove, since her license had lapsed. It made her uneasy, letting someone else have control of a vehicle like that, but she tried not to let it show. The man was good and careful as he drove, following all the rules and signaling well. They still had two close calls getting to their first location, but they weren’t his fault. The other drivers acted like it was, but both times they’d been covertly chatting on a cell phone and not paying attention until Lancaster honked at them.
The place they needed turned out to be a small ceramics shop that sold cups, plates and vases. Nice ones, all handmade by the owner, according to a rather tasteful sign. The woman that ran the place smiled when they came in, checking out Reyes closely, as if he might be there for something other than a plate.
From the look on her face she didn’t fear robbery though. She looked at Marcia to speak though, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her fifty something nose.
“Hi! Can I help you find anything?” The tone was a lot more chipper than normal, so Marcia grinned back, hoping that being happy would be a good starting place.
“Yes, I think you can. We’re checking on a sale made here the other day. It went through credi-check? For nine dollars and eleven cents. Would it be possible to see your surveillance footage of that day?” She filled in the date and time, and handed a paper copy of the transaction record over, but the woman shook her head. At first Marcia wondered if she was going to insist on a warrant, but it wasn’t that at all.
“I don’t have cameras here. Very little shoplifting of ceramic goods and pottery in the area. I do remember that one though. The man, he had short black hair, but not as short as these gentlemen, and deep blue eyes. I remember because it’s close to the color I’m trying to capture for my new glaze mix. Anyway, he got a single mug and asked if I’d charge him exactly nine dollars and eleven cents for it. I did it, since it was on sale for six dollars anyway. He said it was important to him, some kind of number obsession. Is everything all right?” Suddenly after saying everything, the woman seemed reluctant to speak again. Lancaster smiled at her, and held out a picture. It was Mic.
“Is this him, do you think?”
“Oh… yes. He’s not a criminal or anything is he? Wanted by the police or…” Her eyes went to the black suits and she frowned for a second, clearly putting it all together correctly enough. The men looked like government agents.
Marcia, who was wearing her nice blue dress just shook her head and leaned toward the woman a little, as she sat behind her display case counter.
“Nothing like that. He’s just an old friend of ours that might be in trouble. Hence the nine-one-one message. Did he tell you anything else?” When in doubt, tell the truth. It was something that got forgotten by people in covert ops sometimes, but it worked more often than not. Some people wouldn’t, or couldn’t help you, but most people could tell if you lied to them, on some level at least. If they were willing to work with you it often paid to just be honest. In this case it wasn’t like anything was classified, so it was worth a shot.
The woman brushed her sandy blonde hair off her forehead.
“Not really. He did say he thought we might be in for some bad Weather, but that was about all… It sounded like he had a speech impediment though.” She looked embarrassed for having brought it up, but Agent Lancaster leaned in, a curious look on his face.
“Oh, how so? He normally speaks clearly enough.” His gaze searched the woman face hard, which got her to look away. It was hard to play stare eyes with a giant in a black suit.
“He, um, kept pronouncing it “weathers” with an S on the end. It sounded a bit strange at the time. “We’re in for some bad weathers soon” that sort of thing. He said it two or three times.” She glanced at Reyes again and smiled.
“Does that help at all?”
The dark skinned man nodded.
“Yes ma’am, I think it just might. Thank you for your time.”
6
“Well crap.” Marcia tried not to let her frustration show too much, but Lancaster smirked at her anyway. She never could really put up with people attempting complex spy bullshit, which this clearly was. It wasn’t just Mic that had left a cryptic message for them either. So did Harpo and Weathers. They each blamed one of the others, each using a similarly vague code. The only big difference was in the little glass front shop that sold flowers Harpo had gone into, he actually sang the lyrics of a song to explain what he meant.
It was memorable enough the man behind the counter laughed as he recounted it.
“Yeah, that guy! He was like Willy Wonka or something. Creepy in a way, but he sang the whole time. Something about how Mic did it. Um…” The man started tapping the blue ink pen in his hand on the little pad he held.
“Mic held her down, he had his way, I’ll find a way to make him pay…” The man stopped and looked up and to the right, trying to hear the words as hard as he could.
“I can’t really remember the rest. It was decent, but not exactly a top forty hit, you know? I kept expecting to be molested by Umpa-lumpas.”
He tucked the pad into his apron and asked if they had an order for flowers or anything. They were about to leave when Lancaster actually turned back and spoke softly, pulling his wallet out.
“Yes, actually. Can you have a dozen yellow roses delivered to the beach in front of a hotel tonight?” Turning he tilted his head.
“From all of us. Lauren has been a little down lately. You know; first mode problems. Her loneliness is nearly crippling and Doc Tull said we needed to make her feel as loved as possible, even if it might make her feel worse the rest of the time. So pony up you two. It will count more if it’s from all of us.”
Marcia did it and held her tongue, but as a woman she knew that it really would have counted a lot more if it had come from Daryl alone. She’d have liked it that way if the flowers had been for her at least. Of course that was probably why he didn’t want to do it. This was about morale, not trying to make the woman fall in love with him.
That was a dark and hidden thing for the woman. She looked like a giant suit of combat armor from the fifteenth century that had been built by an insect colony in a bid to take over the planet, but her heart was all go
oey schoolgirl and loneliness. It wasn’t something she could escape at all, so she compensated by trying to fall in love with any guy that was even a little nice to her in passing. It never worked out for her of course, which crushed her just a little bit more each time it happened. Worse, given her powers it would be really hard for her to even kill herself. Marcia had to figure it was why she was still alive really. After a fashion she could relate, and things weren’t a fraction as bad for her.
That meant, when it came down to it, which it eventually would, she’d probably go nuts and try to make someone else kill her. There were only a handful of people that could really pull that off though, short of hitting her with a fuel air bomb or a nuke. The only person that had ever taken her down in practice even was Brian and that…
Making him kill her just wasn’t kind. Marcia really didn’t think she’d do that. The woman loved him after all. She loved a lot of guys. Unfortunately that meant she’d probably go to one of the women for it. Maybe even the wrong one. The ideal person for it would probably be Kerry, if it came to that being the only way. No one else had figured it out yet, but even though not in the armored woman’s league physically, the telekinetic could hit her at the weakest points. Either stealing her air directly, or just scrambling her brain inside her skull. The problem there was that Kerry wasn’t a killer. Of course, there was always drowning. Level could swim, but if it got bad enough and she inhaled enough water it would eventually work. That would be really hard to do though.
So flowers and a deflection from the hot guy would have to do for the day. Hopefully the shrink was right and this wouldn’t just send her spiraling deeper into depression.
