"Cunning and deceit will every time serve a man better than force."
- Niccolo Machiavelli
Sylia turned to answer the phone, and discovered Nene at the other end.
"What is it, Nene?"
"Sylia? It's happened again. Two more net break-ins. But this time only a
few systems." Nene looked puzzled. "The ADPolice mainframe was the first.
Then the systems belonging to the THP. But the others? I don't understand
this..."
"What?"
"Why in the world would anyone want to break into real estate firm
computers? There's nothing in those machines but property listings, Sylia."
Sylia's face stilled. "Nene, what _area_ of the Highway Police systems
were broken into?"
"Let me check." She glanced at something out of Sylia's sight. "It looks
like the.. driver's registration and ID? What does that have to do with real
estate?"
"They have a great deal to do with each other," said Sylia absently. She
looked back at Nene. "I want you here tonight. There is something I want you
to look for."
* * *
"I have a couple of surprises for you, boss."
"What's that, m'dear?" muttered Ed absently. He kept reading the job
listings for Mega-Tokyo. "There _has_ to be _something_ out there that I
can do. I'm not totally incompetent, damn it all... I'm intelligent - I
can figure this out for myself... I can _do_ this... Really...
Eventually... I _think_... <Sigh>"
"For one thing.. Happy Anniversary, Boss!" A scutter rolled up and handed
him a small package.
"Eh? What? What's this?"
"It's been twenty years now, boss. Remember? Twenty years ago today is
when you came aboard me at Utopia Planitia."
His eyes widened. "Good lord! I'd completely forgotten! And I didn't get
you a thing!"
"That's all right, lover," she smiled. "There's no need to panic. You can
pick me up something in Mega-Tokyo. You're legal, now. I just finished...
_adjusting_ the records for you. I've even faked the necessary paperwork,
and inserted it into the proper file cabinets all over the city. You are now
Anthony Edwards, with ID to match." She smirked. "Transporters are such
wonderful tools."
He nodded, then looked at the package in his hands. "And this is..?"
"Open it!"
He did so, then collapsed into his armchair. "Gaaah! You.. you've got a
_sick_ sense of humor, m'dear." He stared in horror at the hardbound book in
his hands, and re-read the title, not quite believing what he was looking
at.
"`The Incredible Umbrella' by Marvin Kaye." He flipped to the flyleaf
and read the inscription with a sinking feeling.
To Edward Anthony Becerra
Through the good graces of:
John Wellington Wells
President
J. W. Wells & Co.,
Family Sorcerers.
If anything anyone lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks
at
70 ST. MARY'S AXE, LONDON
("SIMMERY AXE")
"You didn't.. you _couldn't_!" he moaned.
"I could and I _did_, lover!" she replied.
"Arrrrgh!"
* * *
After he'd calmed down, Minerva showed him the real estate listings she'd
plundered.
"Why real estate, girl?"
"B'wana.. every time you've taken a job, it's always been as a soldier,
or occasionally a member of a police force. Like that time you spent as a
tank mechanic for the Tank Police. You've got to stop that. It's not good
for you."
"And what on Earth does real estate have to do with that?"
"You've said it before, boss. You've always dreamed of being the owner of
a bookstore. Why not try it now?"
Ed started to wag a finger at Minerva, then halted abruptly. Her words
echoed in his head. *Why not? Why the _hell_ not?* He nodded.
"Why not, indeed? But how would I get started?"
Minerva tsk'ed at him. "Boss.. I have one of the largest, if not THE
largest, mobile archives in the multi-verse. I have books that have never
been written in this reality. I have books that were written, then _lost_
for all time. I have the complete contents of the Library of Alexandria,
from before the Great Burning. To put it bluntly, I have books that
collectors from this world would quite cheerfully _kill_ for."
Ed snapped his fingers. "And by using the replicators to re-create
them.."
"Now you're getting the picture, boss. We'll set up in the rare book
business. The _really_ rare book business. Once word gets out, customers
will come _crawling_ on their hands and knees to your shop. I guarantee it!"
"Okay, then! Let's start looking for a place to buy!"
***********************************
Kate Madagan approached her superior's office with no small amount of
trepidation. She'd failed to carry out her orders, and she knew it. Quincy
wasn't a man to suffer fools gladly. The truth be told, he didn't suffer
them at all. They were removed from their positions in the company. Such
removals tended to be somewhat.. terminal, on occasion. She thought of that
fool, Brian Mason, and shivered.
She noticed the open door just seconds before Quincy's voice greeted her.
"Come in, Ms. Madagan."
She entered the office, and at his request, took a seat. "Sir, I am
afraid I must report a failure on my part. We have been unable to locate
even the slightest trace of the person who was responsible for the
destruction of the boomer in Wolf's Place. I accept full responsibility for
this."
Quincy rotated his chair slightly, and looked out over the Mega-Tokyo
skyline. He steepled his fingers, and seemed to be lost in thought. Then his
gaze returned to Madagan. "I had expected as much. Although I am moderately
disappointed that you failed to realize that."
"Sir?"
"Come now, Ms. Madagan. Having fought the Crystal Knight, you of all
people should be well aware of the potential inherent in teleportation,
whether by means psionic, or technological." His eyes returned to the
window, and the cityscape beyond it. "Given access to such abilities, and a
need to hide, I would quite likely be doing what our young friend is. He has
taken refuge somewhere, and is using teleportation to serve his needs. All
the while monitoring the local newscasts to ascertain when it has become
safe to emerge." Quincy smiled. "Food, water, even air can be easily and
untraceably supplied in such a manner. His retreat could literally be
anywhere, from the streets of Mega-Tokyo, to the barren wind-swept rocks of
Tierra del Fuego. Or even the mares and mountains of the Moon, for that
matter. He could be just as comfortable there, as anywhere, using
teleportation."
Madagan swallowed hard. She cursed herself for not realizing this on her
own. "Then, how are we to find him, sir?"
A sere smile crossed Quincy's face. "We do not."
"Sir?" asked a confused Madagan.
"We will allow our target to find _us_, Ms. Madagan. When you leave here,
cancel all the bounties we have offered for his capture. Call off all of the
agents actively searching for him. Remove any visible signs of the hunt.
Pressure the ADPolice to do the same. Additionally, you may need to
interfere with the USSD's efforts, as it is unlikely they would willingly
submit to any coercion on our part." He turned to face her, his eyes cold
and hard. "Once he is certain it is safe to return, he will do so. We need
merely wait, and keep a wary eye out for his return. Thinking he is safe, he
will grow careless. He will make a mistake, and reveal himself, Madagan. And
we will be waiting for that mistake."
***********************************
At "Flights of Fantasy" Sylvie and Anri were busy opening the shop for
the morning's business when they noticed a large moving van roll down the
street and stop about a block and a half away, in front of a smallish
warehouse that had been closed since before Darlene had opened the store. A
crew hopped out, and started unloading furniture and personal effects as a
second van pulled up behind them. This one was labeled 'Nakamura Cleaning
Services' down the side.
"It looks like someone is moving in, Sylvie," remarked Anri. "I wonder
who they are?"
Sylvie looked at the furniture being carried in from the pavement.
"Whoever they are, it looks like they intend to live on the premises. I
wonder if they just bought it as a home, or if they intend to set up in
business?"
* * *
On the third floor of the warehouse, the cleaning staff was rapidly
removing the accumulated dust and grime from years of disuse and setting up
small portable room dividers. As they cleaned each section, the moving crew
brought in the furniture and arranged it.
One of them approached their employer. "Sir, where would you like the
kitchenette?"
Ed frowned. "Put it in the south-east corner. I like a bright, cheery
kitchen with lots of sunlight in the morning. And I want all the bookcases
along the north wall. Put my office equipment there, as well." He turned
toward the stairs. "I'm going to see if the rest of the office furniture for
the lower floors arrived. Carry on."
As he walked down the stairs, he noted that the cleaning crews had
already finished the first two floors, and looking out the front window, he
noticed a third, much larger truck pulling over to the curb. *Hopefully,
that will be the bookcases for the store itself.*
As he waited for the movers to unload it, he looked down the street.
Seeing the two sexaroids watching, he frowned slightly. *I wish I could have
found someplace further away from them. I tend to attract trouble, and I
don't like the thought of nice girls like them getting tangled up in my
problems.* He snorted. *But every other place in town wanted prices that
were totally ridiculous! Not that I couldn't have paid them, but even a
blind man would have sat up and taken notice when I trundled in enough gold
to purchase them. That much cash just doesn't wander into town unannounced.
Hell, it was hard enough laundering enough gold to get this place. Anything
bigger, and everyone in town would have started to ask questions.*
"Ahhhh, bother! That's the trouble with being a legitimate businessman..
all the bloody record-keeping." He glanced over at Sylvie and Anri. "Oh,
what the hell.. I might as well invite them over. If anything is going to
happen, it's going to happen. Que sera, sera."
He walked over and gave the women a florid bow, doffing his hat with an
elaborate flourish. "Anthony Edwards, Esquire, at your service, m'ladies.
And you are?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know..*
Anri giggled, and Sylvie smiled. "I'm Sylvie, and she's Anri. We run the
art store just down the street."
Ed nodded. "I see that you're interested in my new acquisition. Would
you care for the nickel tour?" He offered them each an arm.
The women both smiled at the courtly gesture, and each taking an arm,
they walked with him to the warehouse door.
* * *
Anri gazed around herself in awe. Almost everywhere she looked were
workmen assembling bookcase after bookcase. The room was beginning to
resemble a medium sized library from the nineteenth century. She stroked the
oiled walnut of one bookshelf with a gentle finger.
"It's beautiful," she breathed. "It's almost a work of art itself."
Ed smiled. "Thank you." He looked to the walls. "I was fortunate that
this wasn't one of those stainless-steel and chrome monstrosities that
architects were throwing up all over cities for a while there. Pun
intended." He smiled gently. "There's just something about brick and wood
that lends a certain.. warmth to things, don't you think? And the previous
owner kept her in good repair, if you don't mind a little dust and grime."
He waved the two over to a small table in one corner. "Care for some
irish coffee? It's fresh."
"Thank you," nodded Sylvie. "We'd be delighted."
As they sat, Ed waved at the work going on around them. "So.. what do you
think?"
"It's very.. busy," ventured Sylvie.
"It'll calm down, once I'm through moving in," laughed Ed. "Beginnings
are always a rather clumsy time, getting started and all. The grand opening
will be much more dignified, trust me." He looked at the workmen and nodded.
"I paid extra to be moved in as rapidly as possible. I've always been a
little over-eager, you see."
"What sort of bookstore will this be, Mr. Edwards?"
"Oh, please... Anri, isn't it? Just call me Ed. And it will a rare book
store, for the most part. When I was a lad, I was often frustrated when
searching for that certain special book, or reading _part_ of a series, and
discovering that the other volumes were currently unavailable, or even
worse, out of print with no one planning to reprint them." He stood, and
strode over to a large box, and pulling it open, extracted a rather sad
looking paper-back book, in English. He handed it to Sylvie. "Take a look."
She glanced at the title, mentally translating it into Japanese, then
made a face at him and began to snicker loudly. Then she read it aloud for
Anri. "A Parody Of J. R. R. Tolkien's 'The Lord Of The Rings' - _BORED OF
THE RINGS_, by The Harvard Lampoon."
Anri had a sour expression, looking as if she'd just sat on a whoopee
cushion. "That's.. terrible."
Ed grinned boyishly. "What can I say? I was born with a warped sense of
humor. But those aren't the _only_ works I'll be carrying. I'll have
something for almost everyone."
"When is the grand opening, Mr. Edwards?"
He looked around the room again. "If all goes well, in about one week.
I'd like to invite you both to come. And bring all your friends. The more,
the merrier, I always say."
* * *
Later that evening, Nene was going over a disk full of records with
Sylia.
"I don't understand, Sylia. What are we looking for?"
Sylia pursed her lips. "What did Darlene do when she first arrived?"
"She came home with me," smiled Nene.
"I meant after that, Nene. What did she have to do, when she settled down
in Mega-Tokyo?" said Sylia patiently.
The redhead's brow wrinkled in thought. "Well.. we had to get her some
identity papers.. and later she bought a home of her own, and her shop..
OH!" The redhead's fingers flew over the keyboard. "That's the reason for
the break-in of the THP's system. You think that person we met was setting
up an identity for himself?"
Sylia nodded her assent. "And the system break-ins at the real estate
firms were to acquire information on properties for sale in the city. Our
mysterious figure is obviously thinking of moving to Mega-Tokyo."
"I don't think we'll get much from the THP files, Sylia. So far,
everything in the system matches up with the proper paper files, and the
optical backups." She typed some more. "If a fake ID _was_ inserted, they
did a GREAT job of it."
A glint appeared in Sylia's eyes. "Perhaps.. but the property is another
matter entirely. Show me the list of currently available pieces of land, and
buildings for sale in the city."
Nene scrolled the list up the screen. "How will that help us, Sylia?"
"There are a limited number of businesses and business people in
Mega-Tokyo. And as the owner of both Silky Doll Enterprises, and the shares
in other businesses that were part of my father's inheritance, I'm passingly
familiar with the majority of them. They can be eliminated. An inquiry or
two within the business community will reduce the list even further. The few
remaining are the ones that will have to be investigated."
* * *
Ed yawned and headed upstairs. {You tucked into a safe orbit, love?}
She responded in a slightly grumpy manner. {Safe, yes. Clean? No.}
{Pardon?}
{Boss, these people _really_ need to clean up the Clarke orbits. It's
_filthy_. There's more junk floating around their near-earth space than
there was in the Mutara nebula.}
{That bad, eh?}
{Worse. There's everything from paint flecs to entire dead satellites up
here. Don't these idiots ever sweep their traffic lanes?}
He sighed. {Probably not, Min... it IS a distopic reality, after all.}
There was a pause, then he continued. {Tell you what... go ahead and clean
up what you want. Just be careful that no one notices.}
{Done and done. You get some sleep, okay?}
{Will do, m'dear. Night night.}
***********************************
"Do not try to solve all life's problems at once - learn to dread
each day as it comes."
- Donald Kaul
The next morning was a little confusing for Ed. He woke up in an
unfamiliar room, and couldn't place his location for a few moments. Then he
remembered deciding the night before to sleep in the apartment over the
bookstore, rather than aboard the Calypso. He shook his head, trying to
clear the cobwebs from it, then headed for the bathroom.
Showered, shaved (not that he needed it as much, these days), and
generally groomed, he felt able to face the day ahead. He rubbed his hands
together and grinned as he walked over to the kitchenette and looked it
over.
*Been a while since I've done this in a proper kitchen. Either Minerva
was fixing the meals, or I was dining on field rations. Talk about your
going to extremes,* he thought. *She can beat out a french chef, and those
rat packs tasted like something C-Ko might have cooked. Bleah.*
"Now.. let's see if I still know how to fix a breakfast for myself. One
that _won't_ qualify as toxic waste..."
* * *
Once breakfast was over, he headed downstairs and with Minerva's help,
began stocking the book shelves. He whistled as he worked, and Minerva
flinched. *Twenty years, and he _still_ can't carry a tune if you gave him a
bucket!*
"Boss...?"
"Hmmm.. lessee.. Newton's _Principia_ should go.. eh? What is it, pretty
lady?"
"B'wana, would you _please_ stop whistling? It _hurts_!"
He made a sour face. "It's not _that_ bad, is it?"
"Look at your coffee mug, lover."
Ed turned, and saw a pile of ceramic shards lying on a nearby table.
"Ooops. Ahh.. err.. heh, heh.. maybe I should stop whistling?"
"That would be a GOOD idea, boss."
"Well, back to the books. Have you finished replicating those special
ones we picked out?"
"Yes, and they're ready for delivery. I'll transport them directly to
your living room. Fewer eyes, that way."
The small bell he'd hung over the front door rang then, announcing a
visitor. He looked over his shoulder, then rose. "Oh.. hello, Anri. Is there
anything I can do for you?"
"No, but thank you. Actually, I came over to see if there was anything
_we_ could do for you. To welcome you to the neighborhood." She glanced at
the rapidly filling shelves. "You certainly work fast!"
"De nada, chica. It's nothing." His forehead wrinkled. "The _hard_ part
is getting word out to potential customers." He shrugged. "Ah, well. I've
advertised in the paper, and on the net. Now it's just a matter of waiting."
Anri poked around the open boxes. "There are a lot of books here I've
never seen before.. how rare are they?" She picked up a fragile volume.
"Like this one.." She frowned over the english title. "'The Gods of Mars'?
I've never heard of that one."
Ed laughed. "You've heard of Tarzan, haven't you?"
Anri nodded.
"Well, that is another series by Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author and
creator of Tarzan." He pointed to the book in her hand. "That particular
copy is a first edition, first printing. It's about one hundred and twenty
years old, and signed by the author. Worth about.. oh.. ten to fifteen
thousand dollars, American. That's what.. 1.5 million yen, I think?" He
grinned, as he watched Anri carefully replace the book where she had found
it. "Probably more, depending on how desperately a collector might want it."
"It seems a lot like our business, in a way."
Ed rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it is. Books are works of
art, in their own unique way." An idea struck him. "Say.. as I'm the new kid
on the block, so to speak, how about I take the two of you out to lunch? My
treat. You're the only people I know in Mega-Tokyo at present." He grinned
widely. "And it would do my reputation good to be seen with two such lovely
ladies."
"I'll ask Sylvie," replied Anri. "But I'd like that. Where can we go?"
He spread his hands in a confused gesture. "Anywhere you like. I'm not
that familiar with the restaurants around here. I'm afraid I've been eating
take-out food for quite a while." *Oh Ghod, _please_ let Minerva forgive
_that_ lie.* "I leave myself in your no-doubt quite capable hands."
She nodded happily, then noticed a large plaque hanging on the wall near
the cash register. The words caught her eye. "Who said that?" she asked.
"Eh? I mean, excuse me?"
She pointed to the plaque and read it out loud, curiously.
"The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion.
Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor
learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and
prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses, erected
in the dark sea of time."
Ed smiled gently. "Jeffery Robbins, an old acquaintance of mine. A person
and an author whom I greatly respected. It's a quote from a book of his,
`The Sword and the Staff - A Book of Merlin'. No matter where or when you
are, for the human race, truer words were never spoken." His eyes went
distant, and Anri could tell that, for the moment at least, he'd forgotten
she was even in the shop.
"The power of the written word. More powerful than any weapon known to
mankind. The words held inside of books have the power to echo down the
dark reaches of eternity, defying death and time itself. When the first
human created the first written word.. _then_ was true power born." He
blinked suddenly, and noticed her standing there. He gave an embarrased
laugh, and blushed.
"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to preach at you like that. It's just that,
well, books mean a great deal to me, you see."
Anri smiled. "I understand. And you made it seem so vivid. I've never
thought about books in quite that way before. It's a lot to think about."
* * *
Fargo looked across the table at Sylia. "You want me to investigate these
people?"
"Just a short brief on them, for now." She placed a short list with half
a dozen names on the table. "I may have an interest in one of them. I need
to determine which of them that might be."
Fargo gave her a strange look, but took the list and tucked it in a
pocket. "How much do you want on each of them?"
"An open background file, and a photo will do for now," Sylia noted. "And
the quieter this can be kept, the better."
Fargo looked mildly offended. "When haven't I done anything quietly,
Sylia?"
The shadow of a sly smile darted across her face. "There was that time I
asked you to investigate a certain art store owner for me.."
"That wasn't one of mine, Sylia." He managed an hurt expression. "I don't
know what the person I hired ran into there, but it must have been something
rather impressive to scare them like that."
"I expect that it was," Sylia replied. Fargo looked at her, but refrained
from asking. Unwarranted curiosity was generally unprofitable. Under the
wrong circumstances, it could kill you.
"I'll send some people to check these out. Should take about a week at
most. Probably less." He re-read the list. "Will that be soon enough?"
Sylia nodded. "Until next time, Fargo."
But Fargo didn't rise to leave yet. "There's something else, Sylia.
Something interesting. Genom's called off the search for the man involved in
the attack on Wolf's Place." Sylia frowned at that, and Fargo went on.
"They've cancelled all the bounties they'd offered. They are also quietly
pressuring the ADP to drop the search as well."
"Why?"
"No one knows. Even the professional ears haven't any clues."
"How much do I owe you for that, Fargo?"
He looked at her. "That one's for free. Something feels wrong out there,
Sylia. Very wrong. Watch your back." Fargo stood and left.
* * *
Late that night, Ed was trying to relax in his living room. It wasn't
going very well, however. The lunch with Sylvie and Anri had been pleasant,
and plans for the grand opening were progressing nicely. So why was he so
down, he wondered.
Turning on the stereo, he put on an album he'd bought on the way home
from the restaurant. Tina Turner began to sing softly through the room.
Lighting a cigar, he listened to the music, and pondered.
"Boss? What's the matter?"
He took off the glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "That's what I'm trying
to figure out myself, Minerva." He waved at the stereo. "I think it boils
down to that."
"What? A song?" She listened for a moment. It was "I don't wanna fight."
by Tina Turner.
"Well, an emotion, anyway. Haven't you wondered? Why here? Why
Mega-Tokyo, instead of America?"
The small, disguised projector resting on the cocktail table switched
itself on and a hologram of Minerva faced him. "I had, b'wana. But I'd
figured.. it's your life, after all. You need all the privacy you can get."
"It's what, 2035 AD, right? And historically speaking, this reality is
pretty close to my own. It occurred to me... with modern medicine, my
family might still be alive here." He shivered. "_I_ might still be alive
here. I don't think I could face that. I wonder if anyone could. I was
running away."
"You can't run away from yourself, boss."
"I think I know that now. God knows I tried hard enough." He turned off
the music, and walked towards the bedroom. "Maybe I can get my head
straight, now that I do." He grimaced. "At least I've something to look
forward to. Six more days, and then the grand opening of `Rare Books'." He
stopped. "Minerva?"
"Yes, B'wana?"
"Thank you."
***********************************
Four days later, Fargo delivered a small disk full of reports to Sylia.
Of the six people she'd requested backgrounds on, five had checked out
clean. One was.. unusual.
"Unusual how, Fargo?"
"He checks out on paper, but there doesn't seem to be anyone who knows
him personally. He has no immediate personal ties, and every personal
contact dead-ends rather abruptly." His brow furrowed. "So I managed to slip
someone inside his store, as part of the installation team for his security
system. His store and home are sanitized. His furniture is standard store
bought, all his clothing straight off the rack. With two small exceptions,
there's nothing there that shows _any_ personality at all. He's _too_ clean,
Sylia."
"And the two exceptions?"
Fargo pulled out two photographs. The first showed what appeared to be a
large piece of Egyptian art; the second, a small identity card of some sort.
"I wasn't able to identify either one. The sculpture is definitely Egyptian,
but none of the experts can place it. The card? Nothing."
Sylia looked closely at the second photo.
----------------------------
| COMBATANT PERSONNEL |
| HOUSE OF STEINER |
| The Lyran Commonwealth |
| |
| 121740 |
| |
| Mechwarrior |
----------------------------
A small icon of a clenched fist in an iron gauntlet was off-centered on
the small card, located where the picture on a photo ID might have been.
"And you couldn't find anything about this card." Sylia's tone made it a
statement, not a question. Fargo shook his head, and she continued. "That's
enough. I'll handle this from now on. Thank you, Fargo."
* * *
"Are you certain that it will work?"
"Yes. Whoever that worker was spying for, all he got were a few pictures
of that piece of art in your bedroom. And, unfortunately, a photo of the
card-key for your Enforcer." She frowned. "Everything else was clean. If it
was Genom, then they'll drive themselves crazy trying to figure out what the
sculpture means."
"Good. The spook mind-set is 'guilty until proven innocent'. And to them,
an _appearance_ of innocence merely implies that your subject is a pro at
covering his tracks. Ergo, the subject has something to hide. If they hadn't
found anything, they'd simply have looked harder." Ed paced around the room.
"So a false clue is better than no clues, where those types are concerned.
They'll happily follow the bogus trail we left them, and never look in the
right direction." He chuckled. "With any luck, they'll end up searching in
Egypt."
"True enough, lover.. but they also have that snapshot of your card key.
You shouldn't have left that in the shop, boss. That was a mistake."
He scratched at the scar on his forehead. *Damnit! I've _got_ to break
that habit.* "Maybe so, pretty lady. But I got that card from Adam Steiner
himself. It stays with me. If that makes my life a little difficult,
s'beit."
"All right, B'wana. Reminder: You promised Anri and Sylvie to visit their
art shop today."
He blinked. "Oh? When did I do that?"
"During lunch with them a few days ago."
"Figures," he mused. "A big lunch and a pretty girl. Works on me like
kryptonite on Superman. Well, it's not like it won't be fun." He smiled.
"I've always wanted to visit that place, ever since I first read about it in
the real world."
"Every world is equally real, boss. Don't be such an existential snob."
"All right, girl." He pulled on a hat. "Stay with me, pretty lady.. I may
need you to cue me. I don't want to make a slip, and say something
revealing."
"All right, lover. But you've got to watch that paranoia. I think you've
had one too many run-in's with Loki."
He nodded, wincing at the memories of his encounters with the External
Security Division of the Lyran Commonwealth's Intelligence Corps. "Oh, that
reminds me. Were there any bugs left behind?"
"No. But that doesn't mean you're not under surveillance."
"Now who's paranoid, Minerva? But I'll keep that in mind."
He stepped outside, and turned down the block towards "Flights of
Fantasy". *Nice name, that. Twister always _could_ turn a phrase.*
Looking in the window, he admired the art on display. They still had a
few of Twister's dragons for sale, and Ed's eyes widened slightly as he
glimpsed the prices.
*!!* he thought. *I knew they were popular, but DAMN! We're talking
_serious_ cash here. That's getting up into the "If you have to ask about
the price, you can't afford to buy it" territory.*
He opened the door and stepped inside, tipping his hat. "Hello, Anri! Hi,
Sylvie! How's the art business?"
He was answered by a pair of happy smiles. "Hello, Mr. Edwards. It's
pretty brisk," answered Anri.
He rolled his eyes in mock despair. "Ed, Anri.. just Ed. Somebody says
Mr. Edwards, and I turn around looking for my father."
Sylvie laughed. "So.. I see you finally found time to drop by. I take it
the book store is almost ready?"
He nodded. "And I'll be opening up tomorrow morning. I'll expect the two
of you there." He wagged a finger at them. "Nothing like a pair of pretty
girls to brighten a place up and draw in the customers. A fact which
explains the success of _this_ store, I'm certain!"
Both women smiled again. "We'll be sure to be there, Ed." Sylvie
chuckled. "Is there anything we can bring?"
"Some customers?"
Everyone laughed at that. Then he looked around the shop, admiring the
decorations. The swirls of small colorful crystals embedded in the walls and
shelves caught the light with a fiery shimmer that drew his eyes. "It's
beautiful," he breathed. He gazed at the statue of the deep red firedrake
that stood in the center of the floor. "Now _THAT_.. that is really
something! I may not know art, but I know what I like."
He stepped over and ran a hand along its side. All three in the store
froze when a deep growl rumbled through the shop. Ed jerked his hand away,
then carefully stepped back. The drake hadn't moved, it hadn't even
twitched, but he didn't intend to take any chances. As he moved away, from
the corner of his eye he saw that Sylvie and Anri were both staring at him,
astonished. They hastily hid their expressions when they noticed him looking
back.
*I don't know _what_ the hell just happened, but discretion is the better
part of valor, and all that,* he thought. He took a second, closer look. It
wasn't his imagination. The dragon's eyes _were_ glowing. *Oh, _shit_. I
think.. no, I _know_ I just stepped in something deep here...*
Minerva's frantic voice was suddenly in his ear. {Boss? What the hell is
going on?! Whatever you're doing, STOP IT! I'm getting energy spikes near
you, and they're off the scale! I can't tell what they are, but I think you
should get OUT of there.}
{Baby, I don't know what I just did, but I think I just messed with
something magical. Seriously magical. I'm out of here, girl.}
He turned toward Sylvie, keeping a wary eye on the statue. "I'm sorry. I
think I may have eaten something that disagreed with me. Is it all right if
I come back later?"
Sylvie nodded, still staring at Charcoal. "That's.. okay, Ed. You can
just.. come back when you feel better."
The further he got from the statue, the fainter its eyes glowed. He edged
out the door carefully, feeling as if he'd somehow waved a flag, giving
himself away in some mystical manner. Anri stared at him with an odd
expression on her face.
*This.. did _not_ go well,* he thought.
* * *
The two sexaroids didn't know what to think as Ed carefully exited their
shop. They'd seen Char react to threats before, but this was the first time
he'd taken notice of a visitor.
As Anri stood there, collecting her wits, Sylvie reached for the phone.
Quickly punching out a number, she drummed her fingertips on the counter,
tapping out a nervous tattoo.
"Sylia? It's Sylvie. I need to talk with you. Something... unusual just
happened that I think you should know about."
* * *
"And it _reacted_ to you, boss?"
"Reacted, HELL! The blasted thing _SNARLED_ at me, girl!" Ed shuddered.
"Magic. You know _I_ hate it."
Minerva pondered that. "Perhaps it was reacting to the energy you're
giving off, lover. I know you don't like to think about it, but you _do_
radiate a great deal, especially in terms of probability. Remember the last
time you tried to play poker with the Strikers?"
"How could I forget?" he snorted. "Four people at the table and each one
of us wound up with a flush. And shooting craps was worse. Even with dice
LOADED to roll snake eyes, I got nothing but sevens. Val was dead certain
that I was cheating."
"That might be the problem, love. Inadvertent tampering with probability
may not be the same as magic, but it could be close enough to cause
Twister's little pet to sit up and take notice."
He reached up to scratch his forehead, then yanked his hand back,
frustrated. "Wonderful," he said, irony dripping from his tone. "Just bloody
wonderful. So what do I _do_ about it?!"
"You could simply avoid going near Charcoal."
"I need the most powerful sentient computer in existence just to tell me
this?" he snapped. Minerva looked hurt, and he relented. "I'm sorry, pretty
lady. That spooked me."
"I know, b'wana. I'll see if there's anything we can do about this. But
until I find something..."
"I know, I know. Stay away from the dragon." He groaned. "I can't believe
I just said that."
* * *
Sylia hung up the phone, and pondered what she'd just heard from Sylvie,
adding the information to the report that Fargo had delivered. This `Mr.
Edwards', if indeed that _was_ his real name, bore further investigation.
She smiled, coming to a decision. Tomorrow, she, Nene and Linna were going
to attend the Grand Opening of a rare book store.
***********************************
"Opportunity plus instinct equals profit."
- Ferengi Rules Of Acquisition # 9.
The next morning, in the apartment over 'Rare Books'...
BRIIINNNGGG!!!*crunch*
"Ooops." Ed stared blearily at the palm-full of crushed metal, plastic
and circuitry resting on a seriously dented nightstand. *Damn. I lose more
alarm clocks that way...* He yawned, and headed for the shower. "Can't be
late this morning. After all, I _am_ the boss," he grumbled.
* * *
The morning started out rather pleasantly. Ed's advertisements had worked
better than he'd expected, and there were a baker's dozen of customers in
his shop shortly after he opened the doors. He hadn't expected Sylvie and
Anri to show, after what had occurred the day before. He was rather happily
surprised to see them walk in.
"Hello there, Sylvie, Anri.. ahh.. I'd like to apologize about what
happened yesterday. I'm not quite certain why it happened or what caused it,
but I still feel terrible about it..."
Anri looked a little nervous, but Sylvie shook her head. "It's not
important, Ed. Char is something a.. friend of ours left us. Sometimes it
does the unexpected."
Ed smiled, and tried to appear to take the statement at face value.
"Thank you. Still, I do feel responsible, though. If there's any way I can
make it up to you...?"
"We'll think of something." She looked at her watch. "In the meantime, we
invited some friends of ours to your opening, Ed. They should be here soon.
I hope you don't mind."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "More customers, I hope?"
"One of them, perhaps. I don't think Nene or Linna would be interested in
rare books, but Sylia Stingray is into science, and I'm sure she'd be
interested in some of your older items."
Ed had to stifle a strong reaction to that statement. *Blast! I should
have expected this. I asked them to invite their friends. Of _course_
they'd invite the Knight Sabers!* He nervously checked his reflection in the
front window of the book store. *Hair is nicely gray, eyebrows too. Glasses,
check. My contacts are in place and the makeup is doing a nice job of hiding
the scar. Fortuna willing, they won't recognize me.* He turned back to Sylvie.
"I'd be happy to help her. I've got a nice selection of manuscripts she
might find fascinating." He forced a grin. "I've never met a lover of
science who'd willing pass up a chance at a copy of 'A Brief History of
Time' that's been signed by Steven Hawking himself. Or a first printing of
Desmond Morris's 'The Naked Ape'." He stepped over to a shelf. "And I just
received a copy of Richard Feynman's autobiography."
He noticed Anri's eyes beginning to glaze over, and roped himself in
quickly. "Sorry.. I tend to wax over-enthusiastic about books on occasion.
It's a failing of mine."
"Oh, please don't apologize for that, Mr. Edwards. It's _nice_ to see
people who love their work."
He gave Anri a reproving gaze. " `Mr. Edwards'? "
She smiled. "I'm sorry. Ed. Is that better?"
"I'll forgive you this time. But if it happens again, you'll have to pay
the penalty. That means letting me take you out to lunch again!"
Sylvie chuckled. "I don't know about that. You could end up taking her
out every day!"
"Ooooh.. a fate worse than dinner!" They all laughed. The two stepped
over to the buffet table for a bite to eat, leaving him for the moment. Ed
took a moment to ring up a sale, then turned back in time to see the door
swing open, brushing against the tiny bell he'd hung over it. He tried not
to flinch when he recognized their faces from the anime.
"Good morning, ladies. Welcome to the grand opening of `Rare Books'. I'm
the owner, Mr. Edwards." He looked Sylia Stingray directly in the face. "Is
there anything in particular that you are looking for?"
Sylia smiled. "Thank you, no. We're just here to meet our friends."
"Ah.. then you'd be Sylia, Nene and Linna. Sylvie said you'd be by here."
He looked past them. "I thought there would be four of you. Anri said
something about a 'Priss' possibly coming by...?"
Linna and Nene both grinned at that. "I don't think Priss is the sort to
want to come to a rare book store, Mr. Edwards. She's more the rock and
roll, motorcycle type." said Nene.
"I see. Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I used to have a
Harley-Davidson myself, when I was younger." A wry look spread across his
face. "A _lot_ younger."
Nene, ever the ADPolice officer, asked "What do you drive now?"
Laughing inside at the thought of the Calypso, Ed responded, "Something
MUCH larger, dear child. Much, much larger."
* * *
Ed watched as Linna looked around the store. He could practically _see_
the yen signs flashing in her eyes as she totaled up the value of the
furnishings. *Quark would have _loved_ her,* he thought. {Minerva, I'll bet
you two bits Linna tries to involve me in something financial.}
A binary raspberry was blown in his ear. {I don't take sucker bets,
B'wana.}
{Heh, heh, heh. Okay, then.. two bits says she can't even leave the store
before she tries it.}
{What.. do I have a big flashing sign on my CPU that says "Kick me, I'm
stupid!"? Not on your life, boss.}
{That could be a pretty long time, girl.}
{Exactly my point. *!Thpppppppt!*}
He shifted his gaze to Sylia, and grew anxious. Ms. Stingray was closely
inspecting the contents of a sealed glass case when he was keeping some of
the _special_ items.
*I hope I didn't get _too_ cute there with those books. That woman is
arguably one of the sharpest minds on the planet. If not _the_ sharpest.* He
watched her closely. *If she has even the slightest suspicion, she won't
stop till she knows the truth.*
"Mr. Edwards?"
He hurried over. "Yes? Can I help you.. let's see.. Ms. Stingray, right?"
"Yes," she replied absently. "I'd like to take a closer look at that
scroll. The one in the sealed case."
He unlocked the case and carefully removed it, handing it to her. She
unrolled it, and began to slowly read aloud. "Ego Tiberious Claudius Drusus
Nero Germanicus --" She broke off, staring at it. "A copy of the Great
History by Emperor Claudius?"
Ed nodded smugly, watching as her eyes widened slightly. "It's quite
authentic, Ms. Stingray. Although there is no way to prove it, as that _is_
a copy, and obviously not the original.
"But this was lost to history centuries ago! How...?"
He couldn't resist the urge to brag slightly. "Let's just say that I
happen to have access to the right places, and leave it at that. As a
result, I can obtain quite a few obscure rarities." He took back the scroll,
gently re-rolling it and replacing it in the case. "I even have some Mayan
codexes that escaped the book burning that the Spanish priests conducted in
the 1500's, a copy of the Ebers Papyrus and a complete copy of the Book of
Dzyan."
Sylia shook her head in wonder. "The value of such items... aren't you
fearful of being robbed?"
"No. I don't believe I have anything to worry about. In addition to the
standard security system, I have a.. _special_ someone watching over my shop
when I'm not here." He chuckled, thinking of Minerva. "She's a friend of
mine and tends to take any such attempts personally. Actually, I'd be more
afraid for the thieves. They might not survive her."
Sylia raised an curious eyebrow. "She sounds like a formidable person. It
might prove interesting to meet her someday."
"That's unlikely, Ms. Stingray. But who knows what the future holds?" He
turned back to the register to ring up another sale, and Sylia almost missed
his next words. She puzzled over what they could possibly mean.
"I wish I didn't."
* * *
"I want to boot some head, too."
- Student #1, "Ti Kwan Leep (Boot to the Head)"
Late that afternoon, he closed up the shop and was totalling up the first
day's receipts. *Not bad, considering I've just opened. Pretty damn good, as
a matter of fact.* Then the bell over the door tinkled. He looked up as a
pair of young men stamped into the store. They practically had 'motorcycle
gang' written across their foreheads in bold print. *Sylia was right, blast
it. My first day in business is barely over, and already the roaches are
crawling out of the woodwork.* He sighed, and returned to the figures.
One of them pulled what appeared to be an old .50 caliber Desert Eagle.
"Hand over the money, pops, and you don't get hurt."
Ed didn't even bother to look back up. "Could you please take care of
this, Minerva? I have to finish the totals here."
The punks looked around wildly when a pleasant female voice answered him
from thin air. "Can do, boss. Temporary, or permanent?"
He considered. "Best keep it temporary, pretty lady. It doesn't do to
leave bodies lying around... even those of trash like this. Besides, it's
unsanitary." He returned to the paperwork.
"Hey! Who the hell d'ya think yer talking to, old man? We're tha
Outriders, tha meanest gang inna city!!"
Ed _did_ look up at them, then. "That's not what I've heard. There isn't
that much left of you boys, or so I understand. First the Griffin trashed
your gang; then a girl beat up your leader, Steelfist, and tore off those
mechanical arms he was so proud of," he said gently. His voice abruptly
hardened. "You have one chance to leave. I suggest you take it."
The punk with the pistol decided that the grey-haired old geezer wasn't
being respectful enough, and aimed at him. "Gimme the money now, old man!"
"Minerva..?"
This time the voice didn't sound at all pleasant. In fact, it sounded
downright vicious. "Done and done, B'wana." The punk with the gun panicked
and fired a single shot. That was all he had time to do.
It didn't take very long.
* * *
Leon was sighing over the lack of progress in the 'Goldeneyes' case
(*Goldeneyes*, he thought. *What a stupid name.*) when a loud uproar caught
his attention. Then Daley stuck his head in the door.
"Come on and see this, partner. You won't _believe_ it!"
Leon grumbled, but put down the paperwork and followed Daley. What he
saw, he couldn't believe. A couple of officers were leading a pair of
Outriders to the holding cells. A pair of _bald_, _nude_, _bright green_
Outriders, that is. He caught Daley by the arm. "What the hell is going on?"
Daley laughed. "I didn't get the whole story myself, but apparently these
two idiots tried to rob the wrong store." He waved an arm at the iridescent
green perpetrators. "The beat cops found them like that, chained to a lamp
post in the middle of downtown. Nobody knows how they got there, or saw them
arrive." He took a firm grip on his laughter and continued. "They just keep
babbling something about monsters from outer space punishing them for
trying to rob a bookstore."
Leon had the queasy look of a man who'd just seen his world turn upside
down and inside-out. Again. "A bookstore?"
Daley nodded affirmative. "But they won't tell us where. They say that if
they do, the monsters will come back and get them." He began to laugh again.
"And the best part is... the green is some sort of indelible dye. It won't
wash off. They're going to be green for days!"
"Why hasn't someone gotten them some clothing? A blanket, at least."
Daley collapsed into a nearby chair, convulsed with laughter, so Leon
collared another officer and repeated the question.
The patrolman he grabbed told Leon that the arresting officers had tried, but
the green stuff, whatever it was, seemed to have given the pair some sort of
allergy. Clothing of any sort now made the two break out in a painful, bleeding
rash.
*Someone has a warped sense of humor, here.* thought Leon. *Could Darlene
be back? She's capable of this. And this fits with her idea of a joke. I'll call
Sylvie. She'd know, if anyone would.*
Barry Cadwgan ( BCADWGAN@FL.NET.AU )
"The end does not justify the means.
The end is the sum of the means,
as the road travelled determines the destination."
Valijon Starbringer (Hellflower Trilogy, Eluki bes Shahar)