West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide

by Johnson-Weider, K. M.

  “You invited all of us from PR to have drinks with you,” said Gabrielle.

  “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get lucky with either you or Carl.”

  Gabrielle laughed. “What makes you think you’re going to get lucky with me?”

  “You did let me into your room,” said Blue Star as he poured the champagne.

  “Are you insane? We can’t do anything, it would be unprofessional,” said Gabrielle incredulously.

  “I can work with that,” said Blue Star.

  “Work with what?”

  “Your biggest issue with us having sex tonight is that it would be unprofessional, but let’s be honest,” said Blue Star, standing up and taking a glass to Gabrielle. “No matter how good the sex is tonight, you’re not going to cut back on my PR obligations and I’m certainly not going to cut back your workload as White Knight.”

  “You’re very presumptuous,” said Gabrielle, not taking the glass he was holding out to her.

  “You told me this morning that if you want something you should act like you already have it,” said Blue Star putting down the glass.

  “That’s for sponsors, not girlfriends,” retorted Gabrielle.

  “So you want to be my girlfriend?” asked Blue Star as he grabbed Gabrielle by the arm and pulled her close to him.

  “No, this isn’t professional,” whispered Gabrielle as Blue Star kissed her. After the kiss she muttered, “I’m sort of dating someone.”

  “‘Sort of dating’ - is that like ‘enhanced truth’?” asked Blue Star who reached behind Gabrielle to unzip her dress.

  “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” said Gabrielle who began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Smart girl,” said Blue Star kissing her again.

  Chapter 37

  5:16 p.m., Wednesday, July 31st, 2013

  WPS Headquarters

  West Pacific, CA

  Seawolf had been working through the list a few hours a day for days and she’d run up against a dead end. She’d thought that being back on active duty would have helped her make more progress, but instead she’d had even less time due to training and publicity events, like last weekend’s surfing competition that she’d officiated. Starfish had given her his notes from his handling of the investigation, but they were very complicated and hardly legible, so that hadn’t helped at all. Meanwhile, Camille was so emotional lately that her coastal patrols were pretty worthless as well.

  She yawned and stretched her feet deeper into the basin of salt water that she kept under her desk when she was working late. 70 percent of the names on the list checked out as licensed dealers, small aquariums, zoos, and legitimate research facilities. Now she was down to the private collectors, each one of whom she had checked against the team’s database to see if there was any sort of criminal record or notation associated with the name. So far, nothing.

  She stared at the name of the largest collector on the list, a Peter Wilson, registered owner of 82 electric eels. Who in hell owned that many electric eels? How did he store them? According to what the curator had told her, you had to keep electric eels in their own individual aquariums, which had to be at least 100-gallon tanks. This must be one of the middlemen that the young woman at the Office of Invasive and Foreign Wildlife was talking about. Thankfully, the registered address was in West Pacific, which made it simpler for her to check it out.

  As it turned out, Peter Wilson’s address was also the location of a small store called the Age of Aquarius, located in a nondescript strip mall over on the east side of town. It was easy enough to pick the back door lock and let herself in that evening after business hours. The main store carried an odd mixture of New Age-type products and tropical fish, but the back area was even more interesting. She saw a variety of locked aquariums and snake habitats, as well as a bunch of packing crates with Chinese addresses. The lid was loose on one and she peered inside; her nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of animal parts. Probably illicit ingredients for Chinese medicine. This was definitely a place to keep an eye on. At the moment, however, she was focused on the electric eel investigation and for that she had to find the store’s books.

  Thank God for computers, she thought to herself as she booted this one up. Even most illicit dealers were too lazy nowadays to keep a separate set of books; they just created a password-protected subdirectory for their nefarious bookkeeping. Seawolf wasn’t a computer person by any stretch of the imagination, but Dr. Sterling had forced her through enough hacking practice sessions that she’d at least learned to use this nifty little device that could integrate itself into the hard drive and bypass most security measures. She forgot what it was called, but it was a godsend and made quick work of the inferior security on this computer. The trickier part was cross-referencing the shipments and sales to pinpoint which orders related to electric eels. Peter Wilson was a thorough bookkeeper, however. Before long she had isolated 29 electric eels all sold to one person: Ross Keller.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Keller had paid in cash, so that was another dead-end. But there was something about the name that made her pause…Ross Keller. She knew that name. Oh well, only one way to find out. She yawned again, typed the name into her HoloBerry to access the team’s database search engine, and was shocked when almost instantly a file popped up, complete with photos and pages of background information. Seawolf sat up so suddenly that she almost fell off her chair. Ross Keller. Starfish. Oh shit.

  According to the team database, Starfish, a.k.a. Dr. Ross Keller, lived at 3552 Serenity Street, near the University of California-West Pacific, where he had formerly been a professor. Seawolf had been a lowly sophomore in Marine Biology 101 back then, before the accident that had given Dr. Keller his superpowers and current form, before she had dropped out of school. She had never been to his home before, although according to the database, he had lived there the entire time he’d been on the team. That in itself wasn’t too odd; Starfish certainly didn’t seem like the entertaining type. Still, in retrospect, she couldn’t help wondering what all that privacy was really concealing.

  She drove past the college, which was bustling even at this time of night, and slowed to read the building numbers, in the process annoying a young driver who sped around her after an impatient honk. Seawolf ignored him. She hadn’t used GPS since one had insisted that the quickest way to a crime scene was through a community pool. That had been a PR disaster. With all her years of experience, she prided herself in knowing her way around the city better than any artificial intelligence did.

  3552, at least from the outside, appeared to be a block of four apartments: 3552 A, B, C, and D. This was unexpected, and Seawolf parked across the street, pulling out her HoloBerry to confirm. Yep, 3552 Serenity Street, with no mention of any letters. It was a rental property from the looks of it. One of the bottom units didn’t have any curtains and she could see two college students playing a video game inside. Loud and possibly obscene music was coming from one of the top units. There were a couple of cars parked in the shared driveway, none of which matched Starfish’s. This just got more and more interesting, she thought as she did a poorly executed U-turn, earning more honking and a couple of shouted comments, and headed back to HQ. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  Like Keystone had done, Starfish used one of the team drivers to get him around. According to the garage security cameras, he usually got to HQ around 10 a.m.; the driver dropped him off up front, parked the car in the garage, and then headed inside to the TV room where he and the other drivers hung out, drank coffee, and waited to be called on. Starfish always used the same car, which made the whole thing ridiculously easy. All she had to do was wait for Starfish to head to his office and then double check that the driver was safely ensconced in the TV room. If anyone was watching her, it would look like she just happened to take the long way through the garage to reach her own car while heading home early. The tracking device was magnetic and so small that even the security cameras probably didn’t see her att
ach it to Starfish’s car as she passed.

  Friday morning when she came to work, she booted up her computer with some excitement and called up the tracking device’s GPS. Last night Starfish had been dropped off at 8643 Coastline Drive, over on the south side of the city, and he’d been picked up from the same address this morning. She considered this information for a while. Cosmic Kid would say that her “Cicada sense” was tingling, or some such nonsense. But the truth was, she had a bad feeling. By team policy and commonsense, she should let someone else know her suspicions, but then again, this was Starfish she was talking about. He was a team member, someone she’d known for years, and he was very proud. If he was innocent and he found out that she suspected him of doing something so nefarious, he would never forgive her.

  She could try to get advice from Dr. Sterling or Blue Star, but they would probably blow everything out of proportion. Just because Starfish had 29 microchipped electric eels and hadn’t given the team his correct address, didn’t mean that he had created the mutants that had attacked those boats. Then again, since Starfish had taken over the investigation, it had stalled. At the latest team meeting, he’d even said that the mutants she’d encountered had probably been isolated incidents. If he were involved in illegal experimentations, it would be to his advantage to stonewall the investigation. She wondered how to find out whether he was taking the investigation seriously. Paul would be able to give her more information, of course, but she hadn’t talked to Paul since he’d surprised her at the lighthouse and she’d shot him down yet again.

  Seawolf closed her eyes and tried to think about Paul. She had so many conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she had to admit that he genuinely seemed to like her. On the other hand, it was ridiculous for him to like her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t any more ridiculous than her going to the Mutant Dating Service. She was the one casting about for strangers when she had someone already interested in her, someone who she was actually sort of fond of. So what was her problem? She was screwed up, that was her problem.

  She walked to the window and looked out over the city. Paul had been right about her refusing to date him because he wasn’t a mutant. He’d never done anything to deserve that. Then again, if she did agree to go out with him, he’d have to put up with far worse. There would be all the other people who weren’t as open-minded as he appeared to be. And on top of that, she had no doubt that consciously or subconsciously she would fight the relationship every step of the way. She was truly her own worst enemy sometimes. Realizing that, however, didn’t solve anything.

  Seawolf squinted to make out the beacon from her lighthouse. She wished she were back up there with Paul. This time she would say the right thing - or maybe just say nothing at all. But she wasn’t there; she was here and she had decisions to make. It was a crossroads: what to do about Paul, what to do about Starfish. Perhaps she could take care of both problems at the same time and get Paul’s help with the Starfish situation. Then again, after everything she had said, perhaps Paul was done helping her. Perhaps she’d finally convinced him that she was more trouble than she was worth.

  Mr. Awesome used to say, if you can’t make things better, at least make a change. Trembling, she lifted the phone and dialed Paul’s number.

  “Seawolf?” He sounded surprised, but not displeased.

  “Yes. I’m at the office. I - well, I could use your help with something.”

  “Sure, I’ll come right over. Give me 20, maybe 30 minutes.”

  “Great. Ah, thanks,” she said awkwardly.

  “Sure thing. I’m on my way,” he said and hung up.

  He had agreed to come. He hadn’t asked questions; he hadn’t even hesitated. She sat in her office waiting for him to arrive, hugging her knees to her chest. I said I needed his help and he said he was on his way.

  Paul listened attentively as she went over all of her evidence, from the electric eel records to tracking Starfish’s car. “So, I thought you could fill me in on your thoughts about the investigation,” she concluded. “Maybe I’m just overreacting.”

  “It’s hard to tell. You’re right that the investigation stalled once Starfish took it over. We haven’t encountered any more of the creatures. Of course, that could be because there aren’t any more out there. But he’s been the one planning all of the search patterns; in fact, he’s been pretty controlling about everything. I asked a couple weeks ago about getting a second opinion on the body you recovered and he rejected the idea out of hand. I don’t know though. What about talking to someone else on the team?”

  “I don’t have any solid evidence and this is an awfully big accusation to make. Starfish takes things very personally. If I’m wrong and he finds out, he and I will never be able to work together again. I was thinking that I might just go down to his new address and have a talk with him. Nothing confrontational - just ask about the investigation.”

  “How are you going to explain how you got his address?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, weighing options.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going down there alone,” Paul finally said. “If you go, I’m going with you.”

  This was the whole reason she had called him; she had been planning to ask if he would come with her and now he had freely said that he would do just that. She should tell him how much she appreciated it, but the words wouldn’t come. He was looking at her expectantly. She had to say something. “Okay.”

  “I can drive,” he offered.

  “Sure.”

  They walked to the elevator in silence.

  When they got inside, Paul turned to her. “Listen, Seawolf, about the other week when I came over to your house… ”

  “Forget about it,” she said quickly. “I mean, please forget it.” She took a deep breath. “I would really appreciate it if you would just forget about that whole - everything I said.” She looked up nervously. He was smiling at her in a way that sent her heart racing.

  “Good,” he said simply.

  Coastline Drive was on the coastal edge of what had been billed as West Pacific’s new high tech corridor, but which had faltered due to the economic downturn. The area was centered on a strange combination of industrial, commercial, and even a few residential properties.

  “Must be multi-use zoning,” Seawolf commented, as Paul turned onto the poorly lit street. They had already passed a couple office buildings, a factory of some sort, a line of darkened stores, several lots with partially finished construction projects, and an assortment of mismatched residential structures, many of which were for sale. Paul drove slowly until they found 8643 Coastline Drive, a blocky 3-story building facing the ocean that looked like it had been designed in the ‘70s.

  “That looks like a classic New Tomorrow Program design!” Paul exclaimed as he parked the car across the street from the house.

  “It looks ugly as hell to me,” Seawolf said dryly.

  “No doubt designed by an architect who was traumatized by the Vanghel invasion,” Paul joked. He had definitely been in higher spirits since their elevator exchange.

  Seawolf scowled. She was feeling increasingly nervous. If Starfish had gone off the deep end, she was putting both herself and Paul in danger. Of course, Paul wasn’t a regular civilian - she had noticed that he was carrying a handgun - but he was no match for a potentially deranged super. She wondered again whether she should let someone know where they were. Then again, knowing her luck, Annie would send Camille as backup. Seawolf rolled her eyes. That was last thing she needed right now.

  They crossed the street together and approached the dark building warily. There were no windows on the first floor and she was considering whether they should take a look around the grounds first when a proximity sensor triggered and a spotlight blazed down on them. “So much for stealth,” she muttered as they headed for the front door. It was made of reinforced steel, not the sort you’d normally see on a residential property. As she start
ed to reach for the doorbell, they heard the clicking sound of deadbolts turning. The door swung open and Starfish was there, smiling at them.

  “Seawolf and Executive Petty Officer Rutledge!” he exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise! Lovely night, isn’t it? Do come in.”

  Seawolf did not want to go in. Going in was a bad idea, coming here had been a bad idea; she had been an idiot to suggest this. Paul was already entering though, so she had no choice but to follow. Starfish stood aside to let her pass, but her shoulder brushed against him, and her fur bristled uncomfortably at the sensation.

  There was a flight of steps as soon as they entered; as she walked up she heard Starfish bolting the door behind them. Upstairs she found Paul looking around a living room ringed with massive fish tanks and lit by lava lamps, a truly bizarre combination. He gave her a questioning look, but before she could say anything, Starfish had joined them.

  “To what do I owe the honor of your presence tonight?” he asked with a smile that seemed distinctly lacking in warmth. “Just happened to be passing through this end of town? Ah, where are my manners! Perhaps you would like something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, unsure how to begin.

  “Quite a collection you have here,” Paul commented, walking closer to the tanks. “Seawolf and I were catching up on how the investigation’s been going and we thought you might be a good person to answer some questions we had.”

  “I’m sure you did,” he said darkly. “Well, try me out! Have you been thinking up some exciting new theories, Rachel?”

  The fur on the back of her neck prickled. “I don’t use that name,” she said.

  “But it’s your real name, isn’t it? You see, I remember you from Marine Biology. Rachel Polydoras.” He pronounced the name with a flourish that made her stomach turn. “You were so hopelessly lost in that class. It’s really quite amusing to see you play the scientist now.”