"Then the pleasure is all mine," he said, and she flushed again. She pulled her hand from his abruptly.
He reminded himself that she must be a grieving widow. She still wore a heavy silver ring on her left hand, after all. "And what did you see tonight, Mrs. Fitzgerald?"
Her expression turned stony. "Ms. Desjardins. Please."
There was an issue there of some kind, one that he wanted to explore. He arched a brow instead of repeating the question.
She sighed. "You aren't going to do anything about what I saw so it might as well have not happened. It wasn't a murder because the victim was a shade."
"Technically, you're right," Montgomery allowed. "The killing of a shade is not murder under Republic law. It is, however, of considerable interest to me."
She met his gaze again, skepticism shining in her own. "Why?"
"Professional interest."
"Strange hobby."
"No. A disregard for other life can escalate. There are patterns of violent behavior that are first revealed in a perp doing injury to small animals, then shades, then frequently citizens."
It looked as if Lilia was persuaded, then changed her mind. Against him. "All happy PR talk aside, we both know that you're not going to do anything about a shade's death. I need to go."
Montgomery was keenly aware of the watchful eyes of the Republic—and the leer of Thompson—and knew there was only one way to keep the lady in the building.
He'd have to trick her.
Now.
It would infuriate her, but it would keep her from leaving.
"Not so fast." Montgomery surveyed her curves leisurely, then lowered his voice to a murmur. He held her gaze, seeing a flicker of heat in her own. "I'd like to see what you've got first."
Her eyes widened in shock. Thompson gave a low whistle. Lilia took a step back, but not before Montgomery snagged the datachip from her fingers.
He'd distracted her, just as he'd intended, and he saw the moment she realized as much.
He also saw her fury.
At least, he had her attention.
He stepped past her and headed to his cubicle, knowing that she'd follow him. He smiled when he heard her swear.
Then she marched in pursuit, so angry that her heels pounded on the floor.
Point to Montgomery.
If it wasn't for bad luck, Lilia clearly wouldn't have any luck in New Gotham at all. She'd made a mistake in coming to the precinct, courtesy of being freaked out by Y654892's corpse, and met none other than one of the team who had been dense enough to declare Gid's death an accident.
Plus Montgomery was so yummy that she wanted to jump his bones. Even if Lilia hadn't almost collided with him, the eye candy he offered would have stopped her in her tracks. It had been a long time since she'd seen such a prime male specimen.
There was a complication her life didn't need.
If she'd had any taste for cops, Montgomery would have made a tasty morsel. But Lilia had an allergy to cops, especially NGPD Homicide detectives.
She'd seen him on the CC list of the official correspondence over Gid's death. Montgomery was on the NGPD team, and that meant he wasn't on Lilia's team.
The only upside of following him and her disappearing datachip into the warren of the precinct was the view. Lilia had always been convinced that there was nothing more spectacular than a man in a heavy mesh pseudoskin, especially when he had the muscle tone to wear it as if it weighed nothing at all.
Montgomery did.
The view of him striding away was worth the price of admission. Raw biological response reminded Lilia that she'd become a widow too young. Gid was dead, but she was entering her sexual prime, and doing it solo. The way she tingled in the proximity of a buff example of the male of the species was proof positive of that.
It was the last proof she needed, in the last place she wanted it, from the last man she wanted it from.
Montgomery reached his cube and held the door. Lilia had to step past him, almost brushing his chest with her shoulder as she did so. Female bits of her began to sing. He shut the door behind them, the size of him making the space seem smaller and more intimate than Lilia had anticipated.
Or maybe it was the way he watched her so carefully.
In the close proximity of his cube, her awareness of him was impossible to ignore. Montgomery's pseudoskin seemed barely able to contain his broad chest and highlighted the musculature of his legs. This boy was no desk jockey: he was out there, every day in his pseudoskin, doing the dirty work.
Lilia respected that, even if she didn't want to.
Montgomery's uniform was all black, as was customary, and his laser weapon was standard issue. She felt pity for him on that account. The spherical stud implanted in his left earlobe gleamed like a polished jet bead, a reminder Lilia didn't need that nothing seen by a cop went unwitnessed by the Republic.
His hair was shaved to almost nothing, and Lilia was jealous. The Sumptuary & Decency laws forbade a woman from cutting her hair, but Lilia had always thought it would be easier.
She stood in Montgomery's cube, felt the weight of his gaze, and knew she had to get out of the copshop immediately, if not sooner.
She wasn't going without her property, however.
Montgomery was perceptive, so there was no point in playing games. Lilia put out her hand. "Give me the chip, please."
"You'll have it back momentarily."
"You have no right. It's personal property and illegal for you to have seized without a warrant." It was outrageous that Lilia, of all people, was quoting Republic law to an NGPD detective, but there it was.
Montgomery spoke with infuriating calm as he passed a hand over his desktop to awaken it. Lilia saw it do a security scan of his iris before the display appeared. "You came here to report a crime. You brought the datachip to support your charge. You had it in your hand, prepared to surrender it as evidence." He gave her a steady look. "Correct me when I go wrong."
"This is a waste of your time."
"I'll decide what's a waste of my time and what's not." Montgomery spoke more dispassionately than anyone Lilia had ever known, which said something, given her years among the cold-blooded scientists at the Institute. She wondered what he was thinking, then wondered what it would take to rattle his composure.
She shouldn't have wanted to do so, not so badly.
He was a Republic team player, so he'd probably give her a lecture first. She put down her helm and folded her arms across her chest, ready to endure a few minutes of official admonitions.
On the upside, that gave her ample chance to look.
Lilia decided to be blunt. "Let it go, Montgomery. NGPD probably won't even retrieve the body."
"Where is it?" His gaze danced to her radiation badge and she knew there was no point in lying.
"In the old city."
He straightened. "Gotham is within NGPD's jurisdiction . . ."
"I'm not sure it's there to be retrieved ..."
He frowned. "Did you move it?"
Lilia shook her head. "You must know about the wolves."
"The patrols say they migrated down from Maine and mixed with the feral dogs in the city."
"Of course. Old cities are full of predators." She smiled, wanting to shock him. "Not all of them have four legs."
Montgomery studied her and she felt like squirming under his bright gaze. He was so still, so intent, that she halfway thought he could read her thoughts.
They would surprise him, she was sure. Maybe she just had a soft spot for yummy cops who visited the pleasure fringe.
Cops who walked the beat.
Cops who argued that the Republic's databases were fallible.
Cops who filled their pseudoskins so very well.
"You know a lot about old cities," he said.
Lilia put out her hand. "Give me my chip and let's just forget I ever said anything."
Montgomery rolled the chip between his fingers. "Why did you come here if you wer
e so sure there was no point in doing so?"
"I was frightened." Lilia tried to look demure and was sure that she failed. "I've never seen anyone dead before." That wasn't quite true, but he couldn't know as much.
"I thought it was only a shade."
Lilia straightened, angered by his insinuation. Before she spoke, she saw the glint in his eyes and knew she'd been provoked.
On purpose.
Montgomery smiled ever so slightly, and Lilia's heart skipped a beat at the way his features softened. He looked younger, even with a half-smile, and even more tasty.
She really needed to get to the pleasure fringe herself and buy some orgasmic relief.
Montgomery pushed the datachip into the port on his desk and Lilia caught her breath as her images spilled across his digital blotter. She had to look away. They were gruesome.
Montgomery gave a low whistle, revealing that he was a bit shocked himself. "You know this shade?"
"No."
He looked up, inviting more.
To her shame, Lilia gave him a little bit of information. She blamed too much blood and guts for throwing her game. "I was supposed to meet him there."
Montgomery glared at her. "Whose stupid idea was that?"
Lilia said nothing, the better to not further condemn herself. There was no doubt that she had Montgomery's undivided attention.
Or that his eyes were a delicious shade of green. He had dark lashes that would have been the envy of any woman, and which made the hue of his eyes seem more intense.
"Why Gotham?" he demanded when she didn't reply.
"That's not really your concern."
"I think it is." He looked away to compose himself and she was surprised that he could be so angry with her over something that shouldn't have bothered him at all. Then he spoke and revealed the real reason for his annoyance. "It is illegal to enter old cities without prior authorization, Mrs. Desjardins ..."
"Ms. Desjardins," she corrected automatically.
His gaze lingered on the platinum ring on her left hand. "And unless you can prove to me that you had such authorization, I can arrest you." His expression was determined. "Or you can answer my question, Ms. Desjardins. Your choice."
Being a Nuclear Darwinist had its advantages: one was that Lilia could go pretty much anywhere and claim it to be "research." Nobody ever said it had to be research sanctioned by the Society or by the Republic, mostly because there was no way to prove what either were researching at any given point in time. Old cities were a natural haunt for such activities.
"I'm a shade hunter, a Nuclear Darwinist," she said, oozing confidence. "This shade had a third eye, so I wanted to talk to him for my current research project."
Montgomery looked her up and down. Lilia was the best liar on the Frontier, but she had a feeling that he didn't believe her.
Why not? Her excuse had always worked in the past.
Montgomery's perusal made her feel very aware of the close fit of Gid's pseudoskin, and gave her a rare attack of modesty. His glance lingered on her boots, then on her breasts (which were both splendid and original equipment), then on her laze, before his gaze locked with hers again.
Lilia couldn't deny that she liked how Montgomery looked and how he looked at her. It was just biology, nothing more than that. It wasn't illegal for a woman to be heterosexual.
At least not in this state of the union.
If she'd expected a compliment after that perusal, she was due to be disappointed.
"You work for the Society?" he asked.
"No," Lilia said, hiding her feelings with attitude, as usual. "I work for the circus."
As expected, the tone of their interview changed for the worst with that confession. Lilia knew shouldn't have been disappointed that Montgomery was so predictable.
From The Republican Record, April 14, 2026 Republic Announces New Decency Code
New D.C.-This morning, in response to the recent spate of violent crimes against women, the President announced a new decency code, to be put into practice throughout the Republic.
"It's clear that women's apparel in public spaces is a major factor in the increase of personal crime against women," he told a press conference. "Provocative clothing is at the root of this recent problem, and it's past time to make changes to stop the trend. It's our responsibility to make the streets of the Republic safe for all citizens of both genders. The elimination of unseemly attire in public spaces will protect women everywhere."
The Sumptuary & Decency Code (hotlink for the full text of the Code) calls for all women to cover themselves in public in the name of modesty. No skin other than that of the face may be exposed to casual view-although the Code recommends the wearing of veils, they remain optional at this point in time-and traditional attire, including long skirts, gloves, and hats, is proscribed. The Code applies to all women citizens, which it defines as those females being more than twelve years of age. Similarly, women are not to be seen in public while visibly pregnant, an obvious nod to the felon known as "The Third Trimester Rapist" who has terrorized Gotham's expectant mothers in the past year.
The S&D Code, as it has already been termed, explicitly refers to attire worn in public, including offices, and does not apply to what is worn at private residences: behind closed doors, women are free to wear what they like.
The President also announced a budget for a new police corps, to be created purely to enforce the new Code, which is to become effective May 1 throughout the Republic.
The President's conclusions, although shared by Congress and the Senate, both of which rapidly approved the bill, were not greeted with enthusiasm by others. Sharon Woodsworth, of the National Force for Women (NFW) criticized the legislation as "a giant step backward. The President is blaming women everywhere for the fact that men can't control themselves or their desires. It's not a new strategy, but history has already proven this kind of misogynism, time and again, to be ineffective thinking. What we really need is more aggressive sentencing for sex offenders." NFW plans to picket the White House and Congress in protest against the bill, as well as to undertake a fund-raising campaign to mount legal opposition to the bill.
The Republican Civil Liberties Union (RCLU) compared the legislation to restrictions upon women proposed by religious fundamentalists throughout the world. The RCLU, however, had no plans at press time for legally contesting the bill.
The United Republic Workers (URW), which has recently negotiated a new contract on behalf of sex workers in the Republic, also condemned the legislation, stating in a press release that the bill will make the lives of sex workers more dangerous. The URW's rationale is that provocative clothing is "necessary self-promotion for sex workers in a competitive marketplace," but that this bill will ensure that sex workers "showing entrepreneurial initiative" will draw the attention of those with violent tendencies toward women. The President dismissed this criticism, insisting that all sex workers have the opportunity, if not the obligation, to "repent of their sins and find alternative, respectable, employment."
III
In hindsight, bringing Lilia to his cube had been a mistake. She filled the space with her vitality and defiance. She moved and spoke like no woman he had ever known and he was fascinated by her. She distracted him in a very earthy way.
All Montgomery had wanted to do was assess her motives away from Thompson's eye, to determine whether she knew whatever Fitzgerald had known.
But in such close proximity, his thoughts became inappropriate. He could smell the scent of her skin and was intrigued by the curve of her lips. Away from the public space, he could only think of doing private things.
It didn't help his professional composure that Lilia was temptation personified in her snug pseudoskin. Montgomery was definitely feeling the constraints of his reevlar codpiece.
Lilia watched him after her confession, one hand on her hip and challenge bright in her eyes. She expected him to disapprove of her place of employment, and he could work with that
. A little dissent between them would be anticipated by the Republic.
"Not interested in furthering the cause of research?" he asked.
She shrugged. "The good guys don't pay so well. I like having the best toys when I go in, and the Society's troops are underfunded." She paused for a heartbeat. "Kind of like the Republic's troops."
Montgomery looked pointedly at her laze, a new design of breathtaking accuracy, power, and compact size. His own laze was perhaps twenty-year-old technology.
"It's not what you're packing that makes the difference, Lil," he said quietly. "It's how fast you move."
She bristled at his use of her first name and her eyes widened ever so slightly. Montgomery felt a tentative accord—even if it was just mutual desire—then she lifted her chin.
"Go ahead and believe what you need to, Montgomery. More is better in my scheme of the world. And it's Ms. Desjardins."
Montgomery changed the subject. He touched one of the images displayed on his blotter, his fingertip indicating the bump on the shade's forehead. "Is this what you're calling a third eye?"
"You know that it is."
"Actually, I don't."
She sighed and threw herself into the chair opposite his desk, crossing her legs. The musculature in her calves was just enough to be sexy. Her breasts seemed more round, and from this angle, she looked lusciously feminine.
More than her physical assets, he liked the spark of her intellect. She seemed more alive than most mortals he'd met, as if she was lit by an inner fire. She wasn't marking time on earth, but was savoring every minute of it.
He could respect that.
She shrugged. "It's not that rare of a mutation, but it's not very common either."
"What does that mean?"
"That most norms wouldn't have ever seen one, that most Nuclear Darwinists would have seen at least oqe, and that I've seen several dozen."
He magnified the image with a touch. "It looks like a wart."
"It's a skin nodule. There are mystical associations with it."
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