Jezebel's Ladder

by Scott Rhine

  “Hypertrichosis?” she asked. He nodded. “Dirt Bag can be an ass with his code names.”

  “I think it’s revenge for his own, ma’am. They’re more tolerant here. I was Werewolf of London when stationed there and Hairy Potter before that. This is still better than working in a carnival.”

  When she closed her eyes to concentrate, his voice reminded her of the Beatles. “The subject is Thomas Pierson, a Belgian national, forty-one years old.” He rattled on about education, scholarships, and a long list of professional accomplishments. “He succeeds when just about everyone else has given up, but it takes months longer.”

  The hirsute man handed her a stack of photos in a file labeled “Peace Pipe.” Tom had a narrow, clean-shaven, unassuming face that made his thick glasses stand out all the more. Some of the photos dated back to his Oxford days.

  She smiled. “Does Tom have any skeletons I should know about?”

  “His only known vice is smoking a meerschaum pipe in his study. He wife left him years ago because he was never home. There was always another international emergency more important.”

  “Hobbies?”

  “Chess, stamps, orphans in Africa, and beekeeping. He claims it’s very calming.”

  “Do you have the Golden Ticket I asked for in case he needs proof?”

  “Trench Coat didn’t authorize that.”

  She blew out a cleansing breath and let the anger go. “We’ll improvise. Have you scanned his office for bugs?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I have to assume the Fossils know where I’m going today and have the place under surveillance.” On a whim, she asked, “Do you know the song ‘Yesterday’ by the Beatles?”

  “I only know one song by them, Mum.”

  “Sing it,” she ordered with her eyes closed.

  He gave a rendition of “Blackbird” in a pure tenor that spoke of years of suffering, but the song also radiated encouragement. If this man could persist in the face of everything life had thrown at him, she could make it through one meeting.

  When he finished, she sighed. “You should do that for a living.”

  “You think I’d get respect?”

  “Better, I think you’d get laid every concert,” she offered. While he was still reeling from the odd discussion, she asked, “Is there a park around here where they play chess?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said pulling out his phone for a search. “The closest chess club is a café near Luxembourg Park, very popular with the pensioners.”

  “Phone him and change our meeting to the café.”

  Chapter 14 – Of Cabbages and Kings

  Jez managed to bribe a table from one of the wrinkled retirees with a kiss on the cheek and the promise that he could watch her play. She ordered a pot of Frangelica, the subject’s favorite coffee.

  When he arrived, Pierson seemed even more caricatured than his photos and was not in the least active. He waved to a few other customers, calling them by name. Then, he shook her hand, pleasantly surprised by her appearance. “To what do I owe the privilege, Mademoiselle Johnson? Your secretary was a trifle vague. You have confidential information which may affect my negotiations?”

  She gestured for him to sit and offered him a cup of coffee. “Mr. Pierson.”

  “Call me Tom.”

  “I’m Jezebel, Jez to my friends. I thought we would play a few games of chess while we discuss a theoretical issue.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “To what end?”

  “I want to convince you to come work for me.”

  He blinked nervously. “I am, as far as I know, still employed. What could possibly be more important than resolving the current crisis in the Middle East?”

  She smiled. “That conflict will rage on long after you and I are gone. I am offering you a chance to make a difference in a new field, unprecedented in history. Within five years, my company intends to have a private colony in space. I will need your help negotiating with the UN and drafting the moral code we will live under.”

  Tom burst out laughing. The laughter continued until he saw that her face was serious. “You’re not joking?”

  “I have resources at my disposal you couldn’t dream of, including billions in backing. We’ll succeed with or without you, but my job would be much easier with your assistance. I need someone I can trust to delegate to.”

  “Why a diplomat?”

  “I need someone who knows people and nations at a fundamental level, someone who can build a foundation. Frankly, I need someone who can lie. I can’t do that anymore and it’s inconvenient.”

  She placed a cigar box full of chess pieces on the checked table top. “I haven’t played this since I was sixteen. That’s when boys got more interesting. Beat me two games out of three, and I’ll answer any questions you like over dinner anywhere you choose. But if I give you a spanking, you agree to fly to Los Angeles and check out my facility.”

  Henri, the retiree behind her, grinned. “Go on, Tom, let her spank you.”

  Tom raised a finger. “Miss, as much as I would love a personal tour of your fine facilities, I feel it only fair to warn you that this is my club. I am the reigning champion here.”

  “I understand. You don’t want to be embarrassed in front your friends.”

  Smile fading, he began setting up the black pieces. “Ladies first,” he said, indicating the white.

  She started slowly, letting her talents reach out to borrow computing power. He took one of her pawns en passant. She apologized, “I’d forgotten about that rule. I’ll do better.”

  Tom had a distinct advantage at the start, but she got loose on his king’s side and tunneled toward his jugular. He only survived by promoting a pawn to queen at the last second and putting her in mate. The exercise tired him, though, making him sweat. He no longer wore the tweed jacket. “You, Miss Johnson, are wicked and aggressive. If you wish to surrender now…”

  She grinned, taking off her jacket as well. Several men applauded the view. Not only did the show of bare arms and curves help distract her target, but her game got easier the more spectators they gained. Everyone else in the café had stopped playing to watch. “I warned you I was rusty, but I won’t lose again. I’ll throw in my BMW against a week of your consulting time.”

  Tom set up again, this time more slowly. “What sort of consulting?”

  She shrugged. “The UN Bill of Human Rights is too broad for my purposes. I don’t care about marriage rights or nationalities. What I want to define are hard questions: in a closed society, when is it okay to kill?”

  Tom shrugged. “In what context? I try not to kill bugs in my house unless I’m on the toilet and something poisonous threatens to bite me. I even let the mice from my office go in a field.”

  Jez opened with the Dragon Variation and started pounding his defenses. “You begin with the premise that all life is sacred. Your second axiom is capture before kill. Bugs and micro-organisms seem to be easy. Good insects like bees are fine outside the home and we try not to harm them. However, for health reasons, do we have the right to kill the larvae of disease carriers and parasites nearby?”

  “Yes, I would even allow the movement of wasp nests beyond a person’s front yard. A ring of safety is allowed around our homes, schools, and places of work.”

  “As your third axiom, our immediate safety trumps the rights of lower forms. With your mouse example, what if he cannot be captured, but starts eating your wiring in the attic? It keeps you awake at night and could burn down your whole apartment.”

  “Keeping me awake would not qualify, but eating my food stores and leaving diseased droppings would. The mouse is a parasite in this case, presenting multiple dangers to the whole community. I would put out poison to kill it quickly, making sure no children can get the poison and no cats would eat the affected mouse. Animals were here long before us, but most are smart enough not to live in the den of a predator.” He traded a knight for a bishop.

  “To generalize the third
axiom to higher animals, if we warn with fences and walls, dangerous animals are expected to follow the rules and not come into our safety zones without our permission. However, if we go into the wild, we’re fair game?”

  “More or less. Animals hear us before we see them and avoid contact. We should do the same.”

  “The implied fourth axiom would be that we have the right to protect food we have worked for. To clarify three, what if a rabid dog enters a yard and threatens children?”

  He contemplated a dangerous combination, unsure of anything after the third move. “Diseased, insane animals are different. Any adult is honor-bound to put those out of their misery for the good of everyone.”

  As she began a cascade of captures without batting an eye, she said, “An exception to rule two is the virus. As axiom five, we state that there is a meta-human you call the community that has its own rules.”

  He shrugged. “For most purposes, in your hypothetical colony, the rules for a meta-human are the same as for an individual.”

  She nodded. “However, the rules for higher animals in all earlier axioms now apply to humans as well.”

  When the exchange was complete, he wasn’t sure who was ahead in the game any longer.

  “If an animal kills a human, do we retaliate?”

  “We capture the animal and examine the circumstances. Perhaps the person deserved it.”

  She said, “Animal trials, like Napoleon’s time.”

  The crowd laughed.

  Tom countered, “Axiom six: Even an animal deserves fair treatment under the law. The one passing sentence should not be related to the victim. Napoleon did have one thing right: three judges are much fairer than one when someone’s life is at stake. Are you making fun of me to get me to make a mistake?”

  “On the contrary, this is your interview. I like the idea of tribunals.”

  “No more talking till this is finished, please,” the envoy requested. Jez shrugged and out of nowhere came up with a knight combination that decimated his queen’s side. The crowd was buzzing with suggestions on how to counter this assault.

  Henri leaned over the envoy. “She has been toying with you, stretching out the games.”

  Sweating from the effort, Tom eventually conceded the point, tipping his king over. “Now we are tied. Henri, all this talk of food has made me hungry. Get me a hard salami sandwich. Miss Johnson, for what types of questions will you require my expertise?”

  Men gathered at the bar, making wagers and exchanging small bills. Their next game would decide the club championship. Taking advantage of the distraction, she said, “As an opening exercise, I would have everyone develop moral axioms the way you just did. Together, we would rank and coalesce them. The first week I would address how we punish people in a society that needs every person to survive. Then I would move on to the hard questions.”

  “We’d solve all of society’s problems, just like that?”

  She shook her head. “We would build a framework for later generations to have a chance. You see, when they meet us for the first time, other societies will want to know our rules. I need a simple, common set that every frontier colony can follow and present.”

  The envoy was dumbfounded. “Pardon me, miss. You are clearly intelligent, but do you honestly believe we will meet other species?”

  She smiled, leaned close to his ear and whispered, “We already have. How do you think I’ve been winning?”

  Tom looked as if he had been struck. Putting her jacket back on, she told him. “Because I cheated, I will leave you with your crown. If you want to know more, you have my number.”

  She left elated, ignoring the headache blooming behind her right eye as her guard performed a bomb sweep before he would let her into the car. Tom Pierson called to accept the offer before she got back to the hotel. She diverted the car to a boutique to celebrate. Now, her only worries were getting appropriate souvenirs for her team before the flight home.

  When she reached the hotel with her bags, there were police vehicles outside. The desk clerk explained, “In your absence, someone forcibly entered your room and ransacked your suitcases. Fortunately, no one was injured.”

  Because I wasn’t here. She opened her awareness. The man in the corner of the lobby, pointing a cell phone camera at her, was active. Her hairy associate from Liverpool stayed to check on her company laptop, now missing. Meanwhile, she bolted to the airport without speaking to the police or checking out. She bought new suitcases at the gift shops.

  Chapter 15 – Growing Pains

  When Jez got back to her LA apartment, contractors were installing bulletproof glass. Benny was overseeing the work personally. As she dropped off her things, the actor said, “You and Oobie both get upgrades. Someone shot at Dirt Bag as he walked from his car to an appointment at the Federal Trade Commission offices.”

  “C’est la guerre,” she quipped. “What was he doing there?”

  “Someone inside his own company is trying to block the Brazilian deal. He’s doing damage control with the Feds. Now talk to me, Jez. You’re as pale as a heroine addict after a lost weekend.”

  “Always something a girl likes to hear.” Nevertheless, looking at her reflection in the entryway mirror, she had to agree with his assessment.

  He gazed into her eyes, looking for clues. “What else happened? Did you take a drink?”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep on the flight back. I have a migraine so bad I could puke. Because they’ve hit places I'm supposed to sleep twice in two days, I can’t relax.”

  “Twice?” He grabbed her arm as she wavered and then helped her into a padded chair.

  “They raided the hotel where I was staying. I was stupid and left my laptop in the room.”

  He shrugged. “It’s thumb-print encrypted.”

  “That won’t hold them forever. It wouldn’t stop us. They’ll know what I’m working on. I’m sorry.”

  Noticing that the light from the window was making her wince, Benny interposed himself, blocking the glare.

  She said, “I used my talent to beat Peace Pipe at chess. He’ll be reporting for work here in two weeks.”

  “Maybe you used the trick for too long. You need to see a doctor.”

  “Not Ward Seven,” she begged.

  “Vader is staying in an apartment in the other wing while he interviews. I’ll walk you there.” It took a moment for her to connect the code name with the inventor of the breathing apparatus, Dr. Henry Weiss.

  “Isn’t he an engineer?”

  “He has an MD; he just never practiced. He found the equipment easier to deal with than the patients and administrators. Discontent with government administrators drove him to accept our offer. Good find.” Without waiting for her response, the former actor was already leading her down the hall.

  She protested weakly. “He’s not going to want…”

  “I’ll talk him into it. It’s what I do.”

  His face was so determined, she acquiesced. Once she stopped fighting it, the attention felt nice.

  Dr. Weiss reminded her of an old, TV-western doctor. His hair was completely white, and the Houston sun had turned his skin to leather. Laid back and folksy, he talked to her at length about her symptoms. Then he told Benny, “I need access to her medical records.”

  He immediately pulled out his phone, typed in a password, tapped a few icons, and handed the device to the doctor. “Good, you have scans in here.”

  “Why are you carrying my medical records in your phone?” she demanded.

  “In case you were shot and the hospital needed them,” Benny replied hastily. “It’s standard operating procedure for field assignments.”

  “Mr. Fortune’s files are on here as well.” The doctor read through their boss’s files for several moments before Benny cleared his throat. “Sorry, it’s very interesting reading. You both share some symptoms. Might-could be any number of things: brain swelling, low potassium, or adverse chemical interactions. We’re in new territory.” />
  The doctor pulled out a prescription pad. “Stop in at the clinic for a blood workup. Proactively, we need you to take these vitamins. They’re stronger than normal. You need to take a couple-few days off.”

  “I’ve got to reproduce days’ worth of work that I lost when they took my laptop, not to mention…”

  “I wasn’t finished. I’m not working for you yet,” Weiss interrupted. “I can’t believe they missed this in the intake, but that implant in your arm could be causing side-effects. I want it removed.”

  Jez said, “It's just a birth control device. The medicine might cause weight gain, but…”

  “Out. Every chemical you put into your body has a dozen unintended side-effects. We need to simplify your life. You’re not having sex right now, are you?”

  She blushed. “No.”

  “Then there should be no objections,” the doctor concluded.

  On their way to the clinic, Jez asked Benny, “What did he mean, working for me?”

  “While he’s getting his clearance and training for the first two weeks, you get to borrow him for your think tank. After that, he’s on the Red Giant team.”

  “I need my think tank here together at the same time,” she insisted.

  “I’ll get Tom to use his vacation to come here, if you agree to take off two days. I could even throw in a studio tour as incentive.”

  “I’ve never been on a studio tour,” she said.

  He missed a step. “I meant for the envoy, but I’m a man of my word. I finish work here at one tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date,” she said, uncertain why she had finagled it.

  ****

  As Jezebel’s “kids” opened their gifts, Daniel noticed the gauze wrapped around her arm from removing the implant. “Bullet wound? We heard there was trouble.”

  “Nothing major,” she said over the sounds of paper rustling. “But they gave me two days forced medical leave.”

  Nena’s soft, Dutch accent purred, “It’s gorgeous. People are trying to kill you and you buy me this dress?”