“Agatha?” Andrews started to reply, when Steffie grabbed his face and kissed him. She jammed her tongue down his throat as she halfway climbed into his lap. He could taste the alcohol in her mouth as he tried to push her away. They had hardly even talked, let alone kissed, but she bit his lower lip and held on. Finally she let go and half-collapsed into his lap.
“Sorry,” said Ruth. “She was feeling pretty depressed and I guess she drank a bit too much.”
Just then a voice came over the club’s speakers. Andrews looked at the stage to see a young woman who couldn’t have been more than eighteen speak into the standing microphone.
“Ladies, welcome to the Cherry Club. Now let’s hear it for the Wazdon Girls!”
The red curtain behind her rose, getting briefly stuck about two thirds of the way before making it all the way to the top, to reveal four teenage girls in jeans and tee shirts who immediately began hammering out a raucous hard rock tune. At the far left side of the stage was Penny, playing lead guitar. The audience immediately recognized her and started shouting. The song was familiar, though Andrews didn’t know for sure that he had heard it before or what the words were. When the band finished the song, they played right on into their own version of Carpetmuncher. The members of Wazdon Girls smiled broadly to have Penny Dreadful herself playing with them. When they finished, as the applause rose to a deafening level, the lead singer traded places with Penny.
“This is a new song I finished last night,” Penny said into the microphone. “I hope you don’t mind if the Wazdon Girls and I play it for you…”
The lead singer of the group stepped forward and shouted into the mike. “That’s Penny Dreadful and the Wazdon Girls!” The crowd cheered wildly.
Penny said something else, presumably the title of the song, but no one could hear what she said. Then she began a rolling guitar intro at least as fast and loud as those in the two preceding songs. This was followed hard on by her almost screaming voice.
You make me feel so flirty,
You make me feel so freaky,
I never dreamed what it was like,
Oh John, I want you in me,
Steamy, steamy, dreamy, dreamy!
Sexy, sexy, tasty, tasty!
This was followed by the first of three lengthy guitar solos.
“What do you think of it?” Ep!phanee leaned over and yelled in his ear.
“It’s great!”
“Not as good as mine though, is it?”
“Um, apples and oranges.”
She laughed.
Agent Wright appeared just before the end of the set and the Ladybugs, sans Penny, followed her and Andrews to the back of the club. There they were joined, after the finale but before the applause had died away, by the redhead guitar player and they all left through the same door they had entered and climbed into the two waiting cars. Both cars headed for the Royal Continental.
The hotel was less than a mile from the Cherry Club and they had gone only half that distance when Ep!phanee tapped the driver on the shoulder and told her. “Pull into this liquor store.”
“I want to pick up a six pack of Morrigan,” she said when Andrews looked questioningly at her. “It’s a local beer—supposed to be bitchin’.”
They climbed out of the car and ran through the rain and into the store. The bell above the door dinged as they entered.
“You got Morrigan?” asked Ep!phanee.
“In the back case,” said the middle-aged woman without looking up.
The liquor store was a long and narrow establishment, barely wide enough for two aisles. At the extreme end, past all the whiskies, gins, and wines was the cooler filled with beer, and on the bottom shelf was a black and white six-pack filled with tall bottles sporting a raven logo. Andrews held the door open and Piffy bent down to grab the Morrigan. At that moment, the bell above the door dinged again.
Andrews looked around the counter toward the front of the store to see three figures, with stocking masks over their heads. One carried a shotgun and the other two had pistols. With his left hand he pushed Piffy to the floor while he drew his coil gun with his right. The solenoid began to whine even though he hadn’t consciously hit the switch.
“Empty the cash drawer,” said the figure with the shotgun. It was no surprise that it was a woman’s voice.
Before the proprietor had a chance to move at all, the shotgun went off, shattering dozens of bottles on the wall behind her and spraying her blood across those that didn’t shatter.
“Shit!” shouted the woman with the shotgun.
“Never mind,” said one of the figures with a pistol, another woman. “Get the cash drawer.”
Andrews leaned quickly around the counter again and fired three quick bursts. Unlike the shotgun, his pistol barely made a whisper as it spat out two dozen flechettes with each pulse. There was the sound of the three hooded women falling to the floor, and their guns clattering on the tile, and then it was all quiet except for the whine of the solenoid recharging.
Leaving Ep!phanee where she was, he walked the length of the store to check the three people he had just killed. Their bodies had been ripped apart by the tiny iron darts and their blood quickly spread across the linoleum to form a single large puddle the width of the store. Not knowing if he stood there looking at them for a minute or an hour, Andrews was suddenly brought back to the present by the sounds of sirens as several police cars pulled into the parking lot. He stuffed his pistol back into its holster and pulled out his wallet, holding it up in the air so that the badge and identification card were both readily visible.
Chapter Twelve: The Interview
The local police had removed the robber’s hoods. They were all women in their early twenties. Andrews stood looking at them for a long time. When he found Ep!phanee standing next to him, he realized that he had almost forgotten she was there.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t think they even shot in our direction, did they?”
“No.”
The police took both their statements and then released them. They climbed back in the car and the driver took them to the Royal Continental. Neither of them had much to say along the way. Once at the hotel, Andrews met briefly with Wright to fill her in and then he went to his room to begin filling out the inevitable paperwork.
When the Science Police officer opened the door to his assigned room, he decided that a major mistake had been made. Instead of the simple room that he had been assigned in the other hotels, and which had suited him just fine, he found a spacious suite. He stood at the entrance of a large central room with features of both a living room and dining room. A roaring fire was already burning in the gas fireplace next to a fully stocked bar. He realized for the first time that he was shivering, having been out in the pouring rain for most of the evening and not having had the chance to dry off.
He walked to the fireplace and held out his hands to warm them. He stayed in that position until the front of his legs became unbearably hot, then he turned around and warmed his back. Just as his back was becoming too warm and his front was feeling once again cold, Ep!phanee walked in from the bedroom. She wore nothing but a gauzy nightie through which her tattoos were clearly visible.
“I don’t think I’m really in the mood,” he said.
“In the mood for what? Don’t worry. I know just what you need and I’m going to take care of you.”
“I didn’t realize that you were the ‘taking care’ type.”
“Of course I am. Look how well I take care of myself. First you need to take off those wet clothes. Portland isn’t like the Caribbean. If you get a little rain on you there, it dries off in minutes. Here, you’ll catch pneumonia.”
“It does kind of sink right into your bones,” he replied as he began peeling off his still damp clothing.
“You need to get into the hot shower,” she said, stepping behind the bar and filling two shot glasses from a whiskey bottle. “First have one of the
se.”
When Andrews came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a very fluffy complimentary robe, he found Piffy seated at the table with a pot of hot coffee. She had already poured him a cup. When he sipped it, he found that she had laced it with more whiskey.
“I think you need to get right to bed,” she said.
“I have paperwork to take care of.” He went to his luggage, which was sitting just inside the door and found his portfolio, bringing it back to the table. Halfway there he stopped and looked back at his luggage. “What am I doing in a room like this anyway?”
“I had you upgraded. If you’re going to be with us, you’re going to go first class all the way. It’s one of the perks.”
Andrews sat back down at the table and began filling out the seven forms necessary when an agent discharged his weapon, all of which required long written statements and all of which were sandwiched with carbon paper and other sheets so that they were produced in triplicate. When he finished the second, he stopped to warm up his coffee and noticed for the first time that Piffy was no longer in the room. He found her, once he was completely done, sprawled across one side of the bed, her bare, very white bottom staring at him from below her nightgown hem. The California king was large enough though that once he stripped off his robe and climbed in, he didn’t notice her presence the entire night. When he woke up, she was gone.
“Good morning.” Ruth walked into the bedroom carrying a tray. “Come on, sit up. I’ve bought you breakfast.”
“I could just get up.”
“No. You need breakfast in bed after the day you had yesterday. You need to be pampered a bit.” The tray contained two eggs, two strips of bacon, hash browns, a waffle with blueberries, milk and a cup of coffee.
“I don’t know if I can eat all this.”
“Just eat what you want.” She pulled a chair away from the wall and sat down to watch him eat.
She was already dressed for the day, wearing hip-hugger bellbottoms and a halter top, both of which resembled the Union Jack, white platform shoes, and a red headband holding back her dreadlocks.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” he replied
“I’ve hardly seen you in three days.”
“Well, we’re together now. Do I get to spend the day with you?”
“Actually, we’re supposed to meet later this morning and work out the schedule, but Piffy thought you needed somebody to pamper you this morning.”
“And you thought you would be the one to do it?”
“I jumped at the chance.”
“I can take care of myself. I’m a big boy.”
“You’re telling me,” she said with a sly look. “Now don’t dawdle. Eat your breakfast.”
Andrews finished, though he had only a bite of his waffle, before even thinking to look at the clock.
“Good grief, it’s after nine.”
“Don’t be in a rush. The other girls won’t be up for at least another hour and our radio-vid interview isn’t until one.”
Andrews had to force himself not to rush. He shaved and took a long, hot shower. Then he dressed in his freshly laundered suit and set out his two other suits to be picked up by the hotel’s service. He looked over the reports he had written last night, just to make sure that fatigue had not taken a toll on his writing skills, and then he sat down with another cup of coffee. Ruth stayed with him the entire time, and when he was at last settled on the couch, she turned on the radio-vid and curled up next to him.
“…police confirm that the three robbers killed are the same group that has committed violent robberies all over central and eastern Oregon. The clerk was identified as Wanda Silver, 59 of Portland.”
“I don’t want to watch this.”
“Those women were criminals.”
“That doesn’t alter the fact that I killed them.”
“If you hadn’t, who knows how many innocent women, like the clerk in that store, would have been killed.”
“Still…” she hushed any further conversation on the subject with a kiss.
Andrews and Wright rode with the four Ladybugs in an airflivver which picked them up from the roof of the hotel and buzzed south to the complex near Salem, where the radio-vid center for the Pacific Northwest was located. It was a huge facility made up of eight blocky sixty story buildings next to the enormous antenna which dwarfed them. Around them were arrayed hundreds of gigantic steam engines producing the power, which along with radio, radio-vid, and telephone calls was broadcast through the silver giant. The airflivver landed on the top of one of the buildings, and was met by a host of radio-vid production assistants, assistant directors and assistants to the assistant to the head of programming.
The fortieth floor contained a series of studios where game shows, variety shows, quiz shows, and interview shows were filmed. Studio 40G was the home of the Laura Gunstan Show. Just outside of its doors, the party was split up as the Ladybugs were taken inside and the two Science Police Agents were ushered into a small waiting room that featured a large video screen showing what was being filmed in the other room.
Wright and Andrews watched as the band was introduced to famous interviewer Laura Gunstan, and then as they were miked and seated on a long couch next to a chair in which the host would sit. It took a good half hour before all the lighting was ready and the cameras were rolling, but at last the theme music played and the announcer introduced the host.
“My guests today need no introduction,” said Gunstan into the camera. “The greatest rock and roll band of all time, whose recordings have broken more sales records than anyone can count—Penny Dreadfull, Steffie Sin, Ruth De Molay, and Ep!phanee—the Ladybugs.
“Good evening ladies.”
“Hello Laura,” said Ep!phanee. “We’re glad to be here.”
“Well, we are certainly pleased to have you on Sunday Night People. How has the tour been going so far?”
“It’s going great,” said Ep!phanee.
“Except for somebody trying to kill us,” added Penny.
“Yes, the explosion and fire in New York were, according the Science Police, the result of a bomb. Are they convinced that you were the targets?”
“We’re pretty sure somebody was trying to kill me,” said Penny.
“But it wasn’t me this time,” said Piffy.
“Me either,” said Ruth.
All three looked at Steffie. “I have nothing to say.”
“But you haven’t had any other incidents, have you?” asked Gunstan.
“No,” replied Piffy. “They’ve been taking good care of us—watching out for us and all.”
“We’ve got a couple of great coppers,” said Ruth.
“I understand that one of them is a man—an Agent John Andrews?”
“THE John Andrews,” said Penny.
“You, Ep!phanee, have been linked romantically to him in the press. Is there any truth to this story?”
“Oh, we’ve been linked all right. In fact, he’s linked the hell out of me.”
“Shit,” said Andrews.
“So you are what… dating?” asked Gunstan.
“Most definitely.”
“That must be difficult in your situation.”
“You bet it is,” said Ruth. “But we’re managing.”
“Shit,” said Andrews.
“You’re dating him too?”
“Oh yes.”
“How about you two?” Gunstan asked Penny and Steffie.
“Not yet, but soon,” said Steffie.
“We’re not really dating,” said Penny. “Just having some great sex.”
“Shit.”
Chapter Thirteen: Lars
“Brussels doesn’t know what to do,” said Wright. “They want you off the detail, but not necessarily off the team.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means they’ve got another agent on the way to take your place. Once she gets here, you’re going to be off checking tho
se few remaining people in our threat files.”
“I thought we had eliminated pretty much all the credible threats.”
“We have. This way they can say you’re still on the case, but you’re not engaged in any high profile sexcapades.”
“Great.”
“I feel for you partner. It’s not like I haven’t found my way into some nice warm beds in the past two weeks. Mine just aren’t so famous.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“Same thing you have been doing. Stay close to the Ladybugs. Keep them out of danger. We’ll decide what you’re doing next after your replacement gets here tomorrow.”
Andrews was halfway back to his room before he realized that his jaw was clamped shut. He stepped into an alcove and closed his eyes. He took three deep breaths and then held the last one as he rolled his head around. He pictured his dorm room in the enclaves as he took several more slow deep breaths. All he had ever wanted when he was there was to leave, and now that he was gone, it was the safe place he visualized in times of stress—the bare cement block walls, the simple white dresser and desk, the well-worn rugby ball sitting on his tightly made bed.
When he opened the door to his room, he was expecting to find Ruth there, or perhaps Ep!phanee. Instead Steffie was there. She was wearing a floral print cropped tie top with widely flaring sleeves and a pair of hip hugging bellbottoms in the same design. Her mass of platinum hair hung loosely about her shoulders, making her thin face look less predatory. Andrews thought she looked pretty, and he told her so.
“Before you say anything else, I want to apologize,” she said.
“For the interview?”
“No, for the other night at the club. I was completely toasted.”
“Yes, I remember. And now you’re here… because this is your day?”
“That’s right. Here. Ruth made this calendar for you.” She handed him a monthly calendar with a name written in each square.
“Steffie, Steffie, Penny, Penny, Ruth, Ruth, Steffie… Looks like you hit the jackpot.”
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