One noticed her. “Come to see show?”
“Save seat for you,” the other said.
They were Russian, although they tried to downplay the accent. Their wolfish grins gave Sammy the creeps.
She flashed a smile and waved when they called to her. She might need a friend or two when the place cleared. The VIP section was empty, and the kooks were nowhere to be seen. One thing good about a skin joint—never having to wait to use a bathroom stall.
Sammy slipped the jacket on and climbed through the vent. She crawled along the duct, skipping the first branch and turning on to the next one, dragging the handbag. A guy loaded the pill machine with a greenish paste. She stopped to watch, but the blowing cold prodded her along to the back wall, moving as quietly as she could. The last thing she needed was the green-paste guy hearing her in the ducts.
Sammy angled her head into the narrow duct, peering into the office where a guy with a sweater-vest jabbed at a twisting ladder on his holo-screen. She took the back-wall duct to the closet. It wasn't pitch dark as she expected. Could be the closet door was open enough to let in some light. Music was playing. Funny, she hadn’t heard it before. She popped open the vent, trying to be quiet. Never knew who was close by. The vent opening was a little narrower than the bathroom version, but she’d be able to fit through it.
She grabbed the lighter and smokers from the bag and lit them. Sammy dropped her bag out first, then climbed out, holding on before letting go. It was a good three-foot drop.
It wasn’t a closet. It was the entrance to a long, narrow darkened office. Two guys sat at desks, watching security screens, music blaring in the background. She jumped back against the wall, pulling the bag against her. She grabbed a handful of bearings.
“Smoke,” one of the guys said, jumping up from his seat. He saw her. “Who are you?”
The other guy drew his gun. Sammy hurled the bearings and raced through the door. Shots exploded like bombs. Smoke was everywhere.
The office door opened.
Grab the computer and get out of here. She had a chance with the smoke.
She dashed for the door. The guy with a sweater-vest stepped out, back against the door. She ran for the opening. Maybe he wouldn’t see her in the smoke. Sammy didn’t see the tray of test tubes until it was too late. She crashed into it, spilling the tubes over her as she stumbled into the office.
The door closed behind them. He looked down at her as if she were an apparition. Maybe she was in this smoke. Her leg was bleeding. Was it from the tray?
He stepped closer, cracking one of the tubes underfoot. His face changed from shock to wonder. He crouched down beside her, his head tilted to one side. “One of the reactant agents created a high degree of absorption. Which one, though?”
Was he looking to her for an answer?
He reached up onto the counter for a box of latex gloves and slipped one on. He squeezed her leg just above the knee where the skirt had lifted. It was as though he were checking on the ripeness of an orange.
Sammy waved the smoke from her face. It didn’t seem to bother this guy. She had at least another handful of bearings if she needed them.
He peeled her skirt up.
Sammy pulled it down. “Hey!”
He looked up at her as if surprised there was a head attached to the produce. “I assure you that my interests are only scientific. I have never seen this level of absorption before.”
A bang on the door. Sammy froze.
“Are you in there, Doc?”
He glanced back. “Yes.”
“Don’t you see the smoke?”
He stood. “I’ll be right out.”
Sammy’s leg felt numb. Was she shot?
He bent down and offered her his hand. “There appears to be a fire in the building. I don’t know if I can protect you.”
“It’s not a fire.”
“This is your doing?”
Sammy nodded and sat up, putting a little weight on the leg. Yeah, she figured she’d be doing more hopping than walking.
He straightened, walking to the door. “If there’s no danger, then stay here.” He ducked out the door.
Sammy held onto the leg of the table and pulled up, keeping weight off the bloodied leg. She snatched the brick-shaped computer and dropped it into her bag and hopped to the door, testing the wounded leg as she went. She could move quickly enough if she had to.
He ducked his head in. “Good. You’re up. They found the source of the smoke. Now’s a good time to go.”
“You helping me?”
He looked back and opened the door wide enough for her to slip out. “This way.”
Sammy reached out to keep her hand on him with the smoke being so thick. She wasn’t so sure about her being able to move quickly now.
“Open door and get smoke out,” somebody yelled in a thick Russian accent. “They could steal balls and I would not know it.”
The guy glanced back at her. “Move as quickly as you can.”
Sammy hopped more than walked.
“The door’s on the right up ahead.”
She came down a little harder on the bad leg and groaned.
The sweater-vest guy fumbled for the handle. “There’s a latch to unlock the door somewhere.”
Footsteps bounded toward them. Sammy grabbed a few bearings and rolled them behind her.
Arms flew up, followed by a crash. The guy groaned and cursed.
Sammy leaned on Sweater-Vest’s shoulder. “Now would be a good time.”
“It’s not from a lack of effort,” he said, rattling the handle, then a click. The door swung open and the cool night air pulled on the smoke, turning it into thin vapor.
Sammy hopped out. The fallen guy, who was about ten feet back, got up and charged. Sammy slammed the door and searched for something to wedge under the handle. “Those pallets,” Sammy said, waving to Sweater-Vest. “Drag one over here.”
He struggled to lift one. “They’re heavier than they appear.”
Sammy hopped over to help. The door flew open just as they lifted the pallet. The guy hit the pallet mid-thigh, somersaulting over it. He lay on the ground, groaning.
“I’d suggest you leave now,” Sweater-Vest said.
Sammy dropped the pallet, letting it flop to the ground between the door and the groaning guy. The back area was open, and with her leg, she wouldn’t get far.
A black car raced from the front and screeched to a halt, blocking her in. She had Sweater-Vest and his computer. Things weren’t looking too good for her right now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
_____________________________
Sammy waited for the club’s muscle to jump out and pounce, but the car just sat there, the dark-tinted windows keeping its secrets. High-pitched laughter leaked from the closed doors. “What the hell?”
The back window rolled down. Golden Boy was dressed in all black, looking like a disembodied head bobbing up and down in the darkness of the cabin. “Sugar, you really know how to stir up a hive, smoke and all.” He laughed, banging on his knee.
“You know this man?” Sweater-Vest asked.
Sammy peered through the open window, squinting to make sure those psychedelics weren’t still playing tricks on her.
“Did you get the honey?” Golden Boy asked, then laughed again as if something funny came to mind. “I should call you honey instead of sugar.”
The guy on the ground rolled to his side, reaching for his gun. The car’s front door swung open and clipped his head. He turned over, landing facedown.
The club’s back door banged against the fallen pallet, which was wedged between the guy and the door.
Tatiana looked up from the crack of the open car door. “Need a ride, little bird?”
Golden Boy waved her in. “There’s plenty of room.”
The back door banged again, opening wider. Sammy swung open the car door. Sweater-Vest followed, nudging her into the middle.
Sammy reached over him as he c
losed the door. “My bag! I need my bag.”
The club’s back door opened enough for the guy to push through, gun in hand.
“Not a good idea, little bird,” Tatiana said, shifting the car into gear, squealing the tires.
Sammy looked back at the bag sitting by the pallet and the guy taking aim.
“Get down!” Sammy pushed Golden Boy and Sweater-Vest down. The back window exploded, raining glass over them.
The car bumped, rolling over the curb and onto the street. Some of the glass settled down her back.
Golden Boy popped up looking gleeful. “Was that exciting or what?”
“Yeah, tons of fun,” Sammy said, brushing the glass shards to the floor.
“I think I peed on myself,” Golden Boy said, pressing his hand into his crotch. “It feels wet. Doesn’t it feel wet?”
Sammy shifted, scooping away the glass wedged into her back. “I believe you.”
Sweater-Vest was quiet, picking off the few shards that had fallen his way.
“Why did you come?” she asked. “Don’t you work for them?”
“No, not really,” he said, plucking at his sweater. “It was an arrangement to allow me to continue my research. You ended one experiment and started another.”
“Experiment?”
“You’re wearing it now. I wouldn’t have designed it that way, but I’ll have to accept it just the same.”
“I’ll send you the dress.”
Golden Boy was looking as giddy as a kid on his birthday. “An experimental dress? Do tell.”
“As much as I appreciated your assistance,” Sweater-Vest said, “it wouldn’t be prudent of me to discuss it.”
“Secrets? I love secrets,” Golden Boy said, mulling it over. “I’ll buy the dress from you, sugar.”
“What possible use could the dress have for you?”
“An experimental dress cloaked in secrets? Do I have to say more?”
“Whatever the price is, it’s going up,” Sammy said.
“An auction?” Golden Boy wiggled in his seat. “They can be so much fun.”
Sweater-Vest squirmed. “This is ridiculous.”
“Not if I can get some money out of this fiasco. I’ll even throw in the oversized bra and padding.”
Tatiana grinned back through the rearview mirror. “Now you have me interested.”
Sammy looked away. This might’ve been a mistake.
“Girl, are you getting into the bidding?”
“If we can complete the transaction in the car, I just might.”
Definitely a mistake.
Sweater-Vest sighed. “I have very little money.”
“Yeah, right,” Sammy said. “Must be swimming in it with all those pills you made.”
“My compensation was in the form of research equipment. Equipment I needed to conduct the experiments you’re wearing.”
Golden Boy bounced in his seat. “Four hundred dollars!”
Four hundred? “Sold to the man on my right.”
Golden Boy grinned. “Not much in the drama department, but a win is a win.”
“I can supply you with a fair amount of psychedelics,” Sweater-Vest said. “That should easily exceed the four hundred dollars.”
“I don’t want those psychedelics.”
Tatiana glanced back. “Bad trip?”
Yeah, nightmares of a spider biting her head off.
“You’re simply wound too tight, little bird,” Tatiana said with a smirk. “I have ways of loosening you up.”
Golden Boy nodded. “She can stretch you ways you never thought you could go.”
Sammy looked out the window. Could she hop home from here?
“I’d implore you not to sell the dress,” Sweater-Vest said. “You can sell the pills for money, or we can come to another agreement.”
“How about your computer with the recipe?”
“Recipe?”
“For the psychedelics.”
“Four hundred dollars and a computer,” Golden Boy said. “Hope this is better than the last auction.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Sweater-Vest said, leaning back. “Why do you want this recipe?”
“It’s not for me.”
“So you have a client interested in manufacturing these psychedelics?”
“‘Client’ is too nice of a word for him.”
“Why, sugar, you are full of surprises.”
“What is your compensation for securing this?”
Sammy didn’t want to say. “A lot more than four hundred.”
“Sugar, you have to start your prices higher.”
“Even if you had these procedures, it’d require someone with a high level of technical expertise.”
Damned fool Igor.
“If you’re willing to avail yourself to tests, I’ll agree to work for your client.”
Sammy turned to him, not liking where this was going. “Tests? What kind of tests?”
“Principally, standard medical tests and examinations.”
Golden Boy turned toward her. “Are you opening an auction for examinations?”
Tatiana turned back. “I’ll throw in a few dollars for that.”
“There ain’t going to be any examinations.”
“It’s for your own good as well,” Sweater-Vest said. “I may be able to counteract any harmful effects.”
Sammy studied him. “What kind of effects?”
He shrugged. “We’re in virgin territory here.”
“I love anything virgin,” Golden Boy said.
Tatiana chuckled. “You may have to up your bid.”
Sammy looked out the window. Where was Tatiana taking her? “You can let me out here.”
“We’re coming up on your hovel, I mean home, in a few minutes,” Tatiana said.
“How do you know where I live?”
Tatiana gazed back at her through the mirror but didn’t say anything.
“Have you been following me?”
“Tracker on the phone, little bird.”
“Brilliant idea, girl,” Golden Boy said, tapping Sammy’s knee. “Tatiana gave me the blow-by-blow of how you crawled through the ventilation ducts.”
“She got X-ray vision too?”
Golden Boy crinkled his nose. “Hope not. X-ray strips out all the best parts.”
“The tracker is high resolution, nothing but the best for my little bird.”
“I don’t know how you can crawl through those ducts,” Golden Boy said. “I get claustrophobic in a small room.”
“The thrill of getting shot pulled me through.”
“Oh, the best was when everyone came pouring out of the place.” Golden Boy grinned, reflecting on it. “Half of them were swatting at the smoke as if a swarm of bees descended over the place.”
“Knew I should’ve thrown that phone away.”
Tatiana turned back with a smirk. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my little bird. You were so adorable, trying to cover up your dirtied hands and knees. I wanted to take you home right then and there.”
She might’ve been better off with the angry Russians.
“When you returned to the club, I knew I had to see my little bird in action.”
“I’m not your little bird.”
“It wasn’t the best display of plumage, but you’re still constrained by all that down.”
“You called it, girl,” Golden Boy said, examining his nails. “She said, ‘It’s Monday—this has to be her little caper night.’” He looked out through the shattered back window. “Nothing good ever happens on a Monday.”
“You can say that again,” Sammy said.
He patted Sammy’s arm. “Except for tonight, of course. I may have to rethink Mondays.” He leaned forward. “What do you think, girl? Swap out another day for Monday?”
“We’ll make Mondays theft nights,” Tatiana said. “The little bird has to shed all those downy feathers.”
“Oh, how thrilling,” Golden Boy said. “Feel m
y arm. I’ve got goosebumps.”
Sammy peered out the side window. They were a block from the apartment. “I’m all out of capers, so you can find something else to do.”
The car pulled up in front of the apartment.
Tatiana turned back. “See you around, little bird.”
Sammy waved to Sweater-Vest to let her out.
He opened the door and shimmied out.
The dull throb in her leg sharpened when her foot hit the ground. She tossed the phone onto the back seat. “You can go track yourself.”
Golden Boy ducked his head, looking up at Sammy through the open door. “From here on out, we’re available on Mondays.”
Sammy slammed the door, then wondered if she should’ve closed it with Sweater-Vest standing there. He may have wanted a lift somewhere.
“Let me help you,” he said.
Tatiana rolled down her window and leaned out, looking down at Sammy’s leg. “Need me to nurse you back to health?”
Sammy took the guy’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She hobbled around the car and up to her building.
Chapter Twenty-Three
_____________________________
Sammy pounded on the door. Her keys must’ve fallen out of her coat pocket. Sweater Vest stood behind her, looking as though he wasn’t sure if he was invited. “How is your leg feeling?”
“Where the hell is he? Hope he’s not at that skin joint spending money he’s not getting.”
“I can help you with your leg,” he said, gazing down at it. “I’m not a medical doctor, but then again, most of them are morons.”
“I’ll let Mama take care of it.”
“You live here with your mother?”
She shook her head and banged the door again.
“Who is it?” Igor asked in a low, cautious tone.
“It’s me!”
Igor opened the door a crack. His gaze shifted from her to him. “Who’s he?”
“I’m Leo.”
Sammy pushed open the door. “I lost my key.”
Igor stepped aside. “Did you get it?”
Sammy hobbled in past him. “Is Mama around?”
“She is delivering baby,” Igor said, noticing her leg. “You didn’t get it?”
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