by Bella Knight
"Drummond, tell me everything that happened two years ago, about how you acquired the Dothraki weapon."
"Dothraki weapon. I like that. Well, some guy named Noah approached Ray..."
"Raymond Aguirre?"
"Yeah, that guy. Scary dude. He said, ‘Ray’s got a bunch of guns I take to be melted down, 'bout once a month. Most of 'em are pea shooters, nothin' much. But this next load’s gonna be good.’ He said he tracked down the case numbers, and so he knew which weapons were gonna get slagged."
I have got to find out who gave him that info, thought Saber. "Do you know how he knew the case numbers?"
"Naw," said Drummond. Anyhoo, I know Ray from when we was running the streets off Paradise, you know?" Drummond was referring to a housing project there.
"Yeah," said Saber. "What did Ray want with you?"
"I got an RFID wand and a pulse that fries 'em. Tracked the chips, removed 'em after I pulsed 'em. Like I said, Jasper drove in, got out, and we unloaded. Then Noah came back with a squirt gun, and he shot the inside of the truck all bloody like. It was nasty, smelled like meat. Then he got back in, and Ray handed him an envelope. Jasper drove out, and we never saw him again. Wait, maybe Ray did, but not me. I found, removed and fried the RFIDs, and found the Dothraki gun. I took that for payment, and about five hundred. Then, I scooted. Sold the gun for another couple hundred, made me a real nice setup for my coding and games, ya know?"
"Where is Ray now?" asked Saber. "We're having a little trouble locating him."
"He's laying low. Did a job, got burned. He burned me before he got burned, though. Didn't pay me for a job. So, he's in a suite in the Yellow Rose; top floor, left side, number 1802. Don't know what name he's under. He went to Shanghai for a while, sold something there, then someone didn't pay, and he nearly ended up dead. Said he wasn't doin' no overseas business no more."
Saber stared at Drummond. "Well, thank you, you've been very helpful. Do you have any idea where Jasper is?"
"Heard he got picked up, Jasper wasn't his real name. It was Thomas, and Palliver was really something else, but I don't know what. Hear he's in some high desert facility."
Saber nodded. The false identity for someone going under such a rigorous background check, with fingerprints and DNA, meant only one thing, a spook. He sighed. This is gonna get weird, he thought. Real weird.
He ran down the hotel angle, and did what he could from afar. He staked it out for two days, rotating with Wraith and Skuld, but the guy never left his room, if he was, in fact, in there. He couldn't infiltrate Aguirre's people, because his organization didn't seem to exist. He knew there were rotating guards, and hard-eyed people who took their breaks in the coffee shop or fine dining restaurants, with holsters hidden under jackets.
There were at least two rotating guards, Aguirre himself, and a woman, judging from the steady stream of champagne, chocolates, and baubles flowing into the suite. Finally, finally, they caught a break. Two guards, large men with no necks, finished their meals in the hotel's fine dining restaurant of steak, new potatoes, and asparagus, and went back upstairs. They came downstairs with a woman with black hair caught in some sort of gold net in the back, with tilted, smoky-green eyes, and alabaster skin. She wore mile-high, strappy, black shoes with spiked golden heels. She wore a black raincoat over a black skirt, and glittery top. One of the goons went in front of her to open the door, one behind, eyes everywhere.
"Delilah is leaving with Thing 1 and Thing 2," said Saber, into his mic.
"Got 'em," said Geordi, ATF up from San Diego. The man had a French thing going on, very sartorial, and could fit in with the places that "Delilah," their code word for the woman, would go. "Do you want me to pick them up?"
"Watch then grab," said Saber. "You might overhear something good."
"Mas oui," said Geordi.
Wraith, Skuld and two ATF agents arrived. They split up, covering all the exits. The suite covered two floors, hence two doors. Saber knocked, and another no-neck answered. Saber badged and arrested him, handing him off to Danica Mays, a real up-and-comer from Chicago ATF, a kickboxer with a steely gaze, and hands like iron.
Saber entered, tasered a second no-neck who was reaching for a gun, and heard pounding feet on the spiral staircase. Saber didn't have time to do more than notice the fireplace, the leather furniture, the flat-screen television. Hunting lodge vibe, as big as an actual hunting lodge, he thought. He ran after the feet, and found a man in a blue shirt, khakis, and Bruno Magli shoes on the floor, in the hotel hallway. Wraith had him in some sort of choke hold. He was a small man, just a hair over Saber's own height.
Wraith whispered in his ear. "I'm DEA, he's ATF. No sudden moves, or we'll get upset." Saber went over to her side, and put on the cuffs.
"Raymundo Aguirre, you're under arrest for the illegal theft and sales of firearms." He quoted the relevant statutes, and read the man his rights.
Aguirre's olive skin darkened, and his wide nostrils flared. "You fucking piece of shit," he said. "My lawyers will have me out in an hour." He tried to pull against Wraith's iron-strong grip, and choked. "Police brutality! Help!" No one came out of their rosewood doors into the hushed, gold-cloth-covered hallway.
"Put him in the bus," said Saber to Wraith, and stepped away. "Oh, and I forgot one charge," said Saber. "Domestic terrorism." He smiled a shark's smile. "Gotta go secure Thing 4."
Aguirre's thin lips thinned even more. "I didn't..."
"But one of the guns you sold did. So, you're going in a hole you're never getting out of." He glanced at the man's Rolex, his six-hundred-dollar haircut, his Bruno Magli shoes. "Take him away," he said, holding up two warrants. He handed one to Wraith. "The warrant for your arrest." He popped the other one in between his hands. "For a search. What will we find?" Aguirre paled, and Saber smiled his shark-like smile again.
The search yielded a kilo of coke. "Damn," said Saber. Wraith would..."
Wraith came back in. "Danica's got Things 3 and 4 in the bus, and we got the fishy we just reeled in. You were saying?" She looked over. "Aw, you got me a present. How nice. Can I play to find the rest?"
"Be my guest," said Saber. The two techs had been on standby, and were taking pictures.
Wraith found three more kilos of cocaine, one hidden in the headboard, one in the closet hidden in a suitcase with a false bottom, and one in the kitchen, hidden in a bag of sugar.
She cackled. "Got him for narcotics."
Saber found the fourth gun from the robbery, in a holster under the mattress. "Dude's got an arsenal," he said. "Trafficking in stolen weapons."
"Think we got enough," said Wraith. "Let's go find our spook."
Aguirre sang for his lawyer. He'd been fingerprinted and issued an orange jumpsuit, and been feed a bologna sandwich, an orange, and an orange soda. He threw the tray on the floor; Wraith and Saber just stared at him.
Saber said, "New rules. Domestic terrorism. You see, we found your little notes." He held up a plastic baggie with an extremely high-end cell phone. "Encrypted up the wazoo. But Wraith here has a blue-haired wonder that can break into anything. We're tracking down every little number on there. Bank accounts. Names. Addresses. Telephone numbers. And the memo telling you where and when the truck would be; one forwarded from our office. The leak is one Tay Castrano. Tay's an admin, double-checked six ways to Sunday, but he inexplicably gives information he shouldn't have access to. Texts it, too, so now we have a trail. He quit just six days after the robbery, because he had a sick mother. She died of cancer about a month later. Her cancer treatment was paid for by funds from one of your accounts to the tune of twenty thousand. Nowhere near as much as the truck full of guns netted you; she was dying, she just needed palliative care." He sighed. "We already picked him up, and he told us everything. We've got both you and Jasper Palliver. We've also tracked your arms sales to domestic terrorists who shot up a cathedral, just because black people attended it. Killed four people and a lot of stained glass. So, as I've said before, you're
going in a deep, dark hole, lawyer or no lawyer."
"What do you want?" asked Aguirre.
"Jasper Palliver."
"That's not his real name," said Aguirre.
"No shit," said Wraith. "The blood and fingerprints he had on file were attached to a fake name and background. So, enlighten us."
"I don't know his real name," said Aguirre. "But I've got his real fingerprints. And his voice. The key to the safety deposit box around my neck that you confiscated..."
"Already got the stuff from the hotel safe," said Wraith. "Fun stuff. A glass, the USB. Traced them to a Robert Smith, still not a real name. Lots of funny shit. Matched his voiceprint in some fun places."
"Then what do you need me for?" asked Aguirre.
"Bait," said Wraith, and smiled her death-head smile. Aguirre quailed. "Unless you can tell us where he is or who he works for."
"Some place in the desert. A research facility. He took some guns before he drove up. Some submachine guns. Said he needed insurance."
"Where in the desert?" Wraith asked.
"All I know is, it's on the way to Pahrump on a back road just past the Velvet Lady whorehouse. He liked to stop off there, scare up some girls."
Wraith's eyes flashed. "I bet they really were scared. Let's go get this joker."
Jasper Palliver/Robert Smith was a spook. He'd been on ops that had gone very, very wrong. Times where they would grab some high-value target with lots of intel in his or her head, and one shot later, that person was dead. No one thought anything of it; things went sideways all the time. But at least two team leaders had suspicions, and he was taken off that assignment and put on others.
His handler said, "No one's luck is that bad," when ops went wrong in banana republics, instead of sandy, sun-hammered places. He'd hidden the money well, and nothing could be proven, so they cut him loose.
He ended up at a black site in the Nevada desert where an agency made weapons for the war on terror, like phosphorous bombs. He was in charge of some nasty little devices. If some wandered off, he knew how to cover that, and where to sell them. He had the guns to protect himself. He occasionally amused himself with murder. Noah Momer, who was supposed to accept the shipment and incinerate the guns, was killed when Jasper drained his brake fluid. Mountain roads were so treacherous! And having an agent die of an aneurysm! Such delicious irony! He would infiltrate, pretend to be certain people, get what he wanted, and leave no traces.
He worked his usual, Thandee, at the Velvet Lady, in the usual way. Even jaded hookers could get scared, and he liked fear. She was the only one left who would date him. She had a kid she needed to pay for, and a sick mother. He was generous with the money and the tips, so she sighed, accepted the cash, and took him on back. She had a trailer in the back, where no one could hear her scream. He had her install rings, hidden by a trite picture of a waterfall, and he made her hold them, then lashed her hands to it. He liked to bring his own implements, a switch, or a very light riding crop.
He couldn't make them bleed or leave any permanent damage; he knew the rules well. So, he blindfolded her, and made her hold the switch in her hands while he put a chair under her waist, forcing her buttocks out. He tied one ankle to the other, separated by a wide piece of rubber. He stroked her from her shoulders to her buttocks, down her thighs, making her shiver. He varied the strokes, from sharp to light, stroking her buttocks. He then took the switch, and took pleasure in the whoosh of air before it struck her buttocks, then her lower thighs. He never hit the same place twice, and stopped to caress her in between, making her moan out in pain. He finished with more sharp slaps and strokes, reveling in her gasps and screams. He untied her, put away all the ties and switches, and turned to leave.
The door opened, and a vision in black leather, with ice-blonde hair braided on one side. "My turn," she said, flashing cash at Thandee.
Thandee lunged for the door and grabbed the cash on the way out, completely naked, her buttocks and the back of her thighs bright red and covered with long, red welts.
"How much?" she said. "I'm worth five times what you paid that girl." She stepped forward, a hand reaching for his dick, rock-hard through his jeans.
He didn't see the taser in her other hand, and he went down, writhing on the floor. She searched him expertly, finding both boot knives and the little patch of poison in the pouch on his stomach. She shocked him again, and he lost control of his urine and bowel capabilities.
She wrinkled her nose as she cuffed him. "Wish we'd been here earlier. That girl didn't deserve that."
They're all whores, he thought, as he passed out.
He awoke in a cell. He felt his teeth for the poison that would mimic a heart attack, but that tooth was gone. He tasted blood and smiled. There was a cot, a thin mattress, a thin blanket, a lumpy pillow, a toilet, and a sink. The room was very narrow, and there was no window, only a door with a slot. He'd had worse. He'd overpower a guard, and get out.
It was only when he checked the edge of the bed for something he could use that he found the stamp on the blanket. It said, "Prison Psychiatric Unit, Roanoke, Virginia." Peter, he thought. His former handler had finally caught up with him, and there would be hell to pay. I am so fucked, he thought. Psychiatric meant no prison, no lawyer, no one to check up on him. And no one would believe a word he said. He wished he was a child.
“Children have the amazing capability to surprise us.”
4
Joining
"Little ones are the most precious things in the universe... but raising them is the hardest job there is."
This time, Bao joined them at their "mommy lunch." The babies were passed around and kissed, if they were awake. If asleep, intelligent mommies left babies alone. Killa and Ghost joined as well.
"Iced coffee," said Ghost, as they arrived a bit after the baby-kissing frenzy.
Killa accepted Keiran, who burbled at her. She burbled back. "I be pregnant again," said Killa. "Da otha lesbian couple I was gonna choose. They is so happy."
"Good," said Ivy. "Cherry water for you, then."
"Lime wata fo' me," said Ghost. "I be gettin' better, and thinkin' 'bout a gay coupla guys I know. But tha docta say, I gotta wait. I gotta be betta. So, we talkin' 'bout takin' a cruise. There be a mommy cruise. Can go Disney, meet da princesses. Some other cruise lines fo’ dat, too. We be takin' da non-mommy cruise. All-adult one. Be relaxin.'"
"Spring Break," said Callie. "We were going to head out on a ride, but with so many kidlets, it does sound nice."
Lily smiled. "We can bring the boys, let them go someplace awesome. Or, send them on a ride, let them hang out with the boys."
"Or do both," said Lily. "The cruises are from three days to a week. Part-time cruise, the bulk of the trip with their dads."
"Or just leave two days after they come," said Callie. "Let them hang out with the little ones, then send them for time with Ace." She grinned. "No homework. I've been working about six weeks ahead, and I convinced my partner, Jason, he's a soldier in a tent. Anyway, I got him to agree to push through as fast as we reasonably could. We have to turn in our project in segments, and we've got the first two done."
"On what?" asked Lily. Their bacon ranch fries came, and they descended on the plate like wolves.
"On e-teaching," Callie said.
Lily looked at her, dumbfounded. "What the? Gosh; you, Chayton, Bao, and Vu could write your own book on it!"
"We are," said Bao. "It's an e-book. It includes links to our website, and how to retain languages and other knowledge through creating textbooks in your language. Plus, how to mentor and teach online."
"Sounds like two different books," said Ivy.
"That's what I said," said Callie. "I can use one book as my master thesis; the one on language acquisition and retention."
"Listen to you," said Lily. "Sounding more like a teacher every second."
Bao laughed. "I stand defeated. Two books it is. But, if you are writing one as your master thesis, then I
may have nothing to do with it."
"You can use the other one as yours," said Callie.
Bao laughed again. "Have a degree from China, remember? I'm just finishing off my American certification."
"And that puts you only six months from your master's degree here," said Callie. "Get it done."
Ivy said, "I side with my wife, and not because she's my wife. Might as well get the thing out of the way. Slam it out, be done with it."
"All in favor?" said Callie. Everyone, even Ghost and Killa, all raised their hands. "Motion carried. You've been outvoted," said Callie.
Bao said, "But, I have a wedding to plan! And don't tell me to give it to Dragon Mother. She'll fly people in from mainland China I've never heard of, and then try to charge me for it."
Lily smiled. "I happen to know a Chinese-American wedding planner named Lily Wang. She's bright, resourceful, and closemouthed."
"The Dragon Mother will be horrified," said Bao. "Let's do it!"
"I gotta see this rock he give you," said Ghost. Bao showed off her engagement ring. "That's some red rock," said Ghost. "Gotta give my baby one o' dem."
"What I need wit’ a flashy ring?" asked Killa. "I got you, and I ain't need nothin' else."
"Aww," said Callie, as they kissed. "That's the sweetest thing ever." She wiped away a tear.
"Hey," said Bao. "You said that about Nico's proposal."
"You've only been dating him a few months," grumbled Ivy.
"He treats me like a dragon princess. He loves my Harley. He does anything I would ever want him to do. He is strong, and funny, and beautiful, and smart. He loves large families, and does not find ours strange."
"He defended some guy in a bar," said Bella. "He's a terrific guy. What do you want?"
Callie smiled. "She was worried he'd move away with Bao and we wouldn't get awesome, free babysitting. Besides, splitting the girls up would be beyond horrifying at this point. They've been raised together for too long."
"I wanted to talk to you about that," said Bao.