The Blue-Haired Bombshell

by John Zakour

  ‘‘Your point being?’’

  ‘‘We would like you to be our official spokesperson. Your catch phrase will be, ‘If they insure me, they’ll insure anybody’!’’

  ‘‘Catchy and true,’’ HARV laughed.

  ‘‘You’re kidding!’’ I told her.

  Maria pointed at me. The mere gesture pushed me back and pinned me to wall. She strutted over to me. She lifted her finger up. I rose up off the ground. She dangled her finger under my nose.

  ‘‘Do I look like I’m fooling around?’’ she said. ‘‘Your choice is simple. Do the nice dignified ad or bark our jingle naked.’’

  ‘‘Hi, this is Zachary Nixon Johnson, if World Insurance insures me they’ll insure anybody,’’ I said in my peppiest voice.

  Maria lowered me to the ground. ‘‘Very good.’’ She snapped her fingers. Carlos moved forward, pulling a paper-thin computer from his back pocket. He unraveled the computer to show me the contract.

  ‘‘Trust me, it’s fair,’’ Maria said. ‘‘Just give us your DNA print.’’

  I touched the screen with my thumb.

  Carlos turned the paper computer over, looked at it, and smiled.

  ‘‘Very good,’’ Maria said. She glanced over at the two guys Carol and I had clobbered. ‘‘Wake up!’’ she ordered.

  The two guys started to move. ‘‘Follow me out on your knees.’’

  Maria gave me a polite wave. She left, followed by Carlos, followed by the men crawling behind her. The woman had style. As she walked by Carol she gave her a pat on the head. ‘‘Back to normal, little one.’’

  Carol stood up and shook her head. ‘‘That was annoying . . .’’

  ‘‘Welcome to my world, my dear. Welcome to my world.’’

  ‘‘Hmm,’’ HARV said. ‘‘You have a call coming in.’’

  ‘‘Who is it?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Sexy.’’

  ‘‘Sprockets?’’

  ‘‘Do you know anybody else named Sexy?’’

  ‘‘Take a message, buddy.’’

  ‘‘She says she needs to see you urgently.’’

  I squeezed my nose with my thumb and index finger. ‘‘She’s probably just jealous that I saved Madrid’s dog.’’

  ‘‘That would match her MO,’’ HARV agreed. ‘‘I also screened over one hundred messages for you.’’

  ‘‘Why so many?’’

  ‘‘Check your wallscreen.’’

  I looked at the images scrolling across my wallscreen. Most of them were of me, diving to catch the little poodle. I was the flavor of the nano all right. I needed a break. I couldn’t handle much more of today, today.

  ‘‘HARV, can you bury my home address?’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ HARV said.

  ‘‘I want to go home and make sure I’m not mobbed by the press or fans . . .’’

  ‘‘Don’t worry Zach, as is par for the course, I’m already many steps ahead of you.’’

  ‘‘You are?’’

  ‘‘I removed your home address from all databases the nano you caught that puppy.’’

  ‘‘I don’t care what I say about you, you’re all right, HARV.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I am well aware of that.’’

  I went to grab my coat and hat. I realized I hadn’t even had time to take them off. I couldn’t have HARV scramble the address of my office. After all, I’m a P.I. I need clients to be able to find me. Now my house, that was off limits. In the old days, they used to have unlisted telephone numbers; thanks to HARV, I would have an unlisted address. I liked it that way. I figured that anybody who I’d want to see me already knew where I lived.

  I looked out the one-way windows of my office. Another swarm of girls was gathering. I peeked over at Carol. She had her head on her desk and was moaning. Carol was much more used to being the disher not the dishee. In the long run, this little slice of humble pie would do her well; but like economists like to say, in the long run, we’re all dead. For the short run, Carol wouldn’t be much good to help me get by this crowd.

  I needed to be stealthy. One of the advantages of having HARV drilled into my brain is I have a built-in holo-projector. HARV can use the lens in my eye that bonds us to project holograms. I needed a cover. Somebody that the teenage girls and the press would want nothing to do with. . . .

  It hit me. ‘‘Make me look like Krazy Karl, the used-hover salesman.’’

  HARV appeared before me and smirked. ‘‘Yes, I imagine that would get the job done.’’

  Even when hovercrafts were at their peak of popularity, used ones weren’t all that popular. These days when items can be made so quickly nobody wants somebody else’s throwaways. To further lower his appeal, Karzy Karl was more round than tall and had a cheesy-looking handlebar mustache. To bottom it all out, he had what might possibly be the worst slogan ever: Our used hovers are so cheap we’re practically paying you to take them.

  The hover disguise washed over me, making me feel a bit dirty. I surmised that meant it was working.

  Opening my office door, I could feel the rush of anticipation from the crowd. They clamored, ‘‘Here he comes!’’

  They saw me, well, the holo-me. There was a collective groan from the crowd. They parted for me to pass through. Many of them shielded their eyes.

  I walked over to my car. Most of the crowd had turned away from me and were back to concentrating on my office. I got in my car. I started it up.

  I overheard somebody say, ‘‘Wow, he must have sold his fancy old car to Krazy Karl. Gross . . .’’

  With that, I drove off.

  Chapter 5

  Pulling up to my modest home, I was pleased to see it wasn’t surrounded by press or fly-by-the-moment fans. Yep, that’s one of the big advantages of today’s paperless, computer-driven society. If it’s not in a computer, nobody knows it exists. Better yet, if you have a computer to manipulate the system, there’s a lot you can get away with.

  I entered my house and plopped down on my couch. It was just lunchtime and already I had had a very full day. DOS, the ‘‘adventures’’ I had today were enough to fill up the average joe’s event meter for a lifetime. But for me, of course, the events of today were just another slightly busy Tuesday.

  I kicked my feet up on the ottoman. It rolled over toward me. I leaned back in the couch.

  ‘‘Ceiling screen on,’’ I said.

  ‘‘You’ll get a kink in your neck,’’ HARV warned.

  ‘‘Just do it,’’ I ordered.

  My ceiling lit up with pictures and information. Unfortunately, most of it was about me. At least twelve channels were rerunning my catch of the dog. The ART channel was giving my life story. The cooking channel had a special, ‘‘Zach Johnson’s Favorite Meals.’’ In between shows my commercial for World Insurance ran.

  HARV appeared on the couch next to me.

  ‘‘Don’t worry, between the public’s limited attention span, your annoying commercial, and the fact that the public thinks Krazy Karl bought your car, you can’t last as the flavor of the nano much longer.’’

  ‘‘I hope not,’’ I said. ‘‘I truly hope not.’’

  I heard a knock on my door. Actually, it was more of a banging, a rapid banging. That couldn’t be good. I reached under a coach cushion and drew my good old-fashioned Colt .44 I keep there just in case. The .44 may not have nearly the firepower of the 2062 but it looked like a gun and therefore carried more intimidation factor.

  ‘‘Who’s at the door?’’ I asked HARV.

  ‘‘You’re not going to believe it.’’

  ‘‘Try me.’’

  ‘‘It’s Sexy Sprockets and her bodyguards.’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘IT’S SEXY SPROCKETS AND HER BODYGUARDS,’’ HARV shouted.

  I popped my old gun back into my ankle holster. I stood up and headed to the door. There stood Sexy Sprockets in all her glory. Behind Sexy was her personal bodyguard, Shannon Cannon. Behind them were at least five
people in black battle armor.

  ‘‘Zach, thank Gates you’re home,’’ Sexy said walking into my house. Shannon Cannon followed her in then secured the door behind her.

  ‘‘Sexy, how did you find me? My house is unlisted.’’

  Sexy smiled at me. ‘‘Remember, you brought me here once during my rock star days.’’

  ‘‘I remember. I’m just shocked you could find the place.’’

  ‘‘I’m not half as dumb as people think I am.’’ Sexy walked into my living room and sat down on my couch. She looked up at me and smiled. ‘‘I am so glad that I saw that insurance ad you’re in. That reminded me that you are probably the one person I know who can help.’’

  ‘‘Sexy, you’re being more confusing than normal.’’

  Shannon walked over and placed her hand on Sexy’s shoulder. It was the first time I noticed Shannon had dyed her hair blue. That meant she was a Moon supporter—a Moonie. Shannon glared at me.

  ‘‘Can’t you see Sexy is scared?’’

  I had to admit Sexy did look more unnerved than I had ever seen her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the DOS could scare Sexy. After all, she was an ex-teen-pop-rock-star. She had seen a lot. This is the girl who once bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate Bridge on a dare. This was the girl who remastered the Elvis song ‘‘In the Ghetto’’ as a techno-pop-dance-love song. This was the girl who traveled with a mutant superpowered bodyguard and many other heavily-armed protectors.

  ‘‘What the DOS are you scared of, Sexy?’’ I asked, despite my better judgment.

  She looked up at me, barely holding back her nerves. ‘‘Threa Thompson,’’ she shuddered.

  Now that was something I wasn’t expecting. Threa is one of the three remaining Thompson Quads. She and her sisters Ona and Twoa may be the most physically and mentally powerful beings on Earth. Ona was a wealthy businesswoman. Twoa was a superhero. (No, I’m not making that up.) Threa called herself a fairy princess, and who claimed to live in a magical realm. I helped the three of them stop their sister Foraa (who, believe it or not, had been crazier than all of them put together) from destroying the world.

  If Threa really was angry with Sexy, I understood Sexy being scared. The Thompson sisters were not to be taken lightly. I once saw Ona reduce her board of directors to helpless doorstops with a glance. Twoa has been known to overpower ninja death squads simply by removing her shoes. The thing is, Threa had always been the most easygoing of the sisters. Sure she threatened to rearrange my molecular structure once when I killed one of her trolls (not as unusual as you may think). But for the most part she was as level-headed as a superwoman who professes to be a fairy princess can be.

  ‘‘Why are you scared of Threa?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Apparently she’s never paid a province income tax.’’

  ‘‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’’

  ‘‘Zach, she’s worth close to a hundred million credits but she claims to live in a mysterious realm beyond our dimension, which is preposterous.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. Have you ever met Threa?’’

  ‘‘No, I’ve only been threatened by her. She refuses to pay her taxes. So when I sent a warning to her, my lawyer came back on all fours, with a tail, and barking. He managed to bark out that if I insist on forcing Threa to pay taxes in New California, she’ll turn me into a toad.’’ Sexy looked up at me sheepishly. ‘‘I don’t know if she means a real toad or just make me think I’m a toad, but neither is high on my list. You know how hard it would be to do Council stuff and date and stuff if I was a frog?’’

  ‘‘Threa likes to talk. I’m sure it was an idle threat.’’

  Almost on cue, there was a loud crashing noise. We all turned toward the noise to see two of Sexy’s armor-clad bodyguards flying through my door, smashing it into hundreds of pieces.

  DOS, that was a real wood door! Of course, I had bigger problems than the door, as three more guards followed their coworkers into my house. They all enteredin pretty much the same manner, flying through the air and crashing to the floor, out cold.

  Shannon leaped in front of Sexy. I popped my Colt 2062 into my hand.

  Sexy eyed my strange weapon. ‘‘Really Zach, this is no time for HV.’’

  We heard a bomp bomp bomp clanging toward my door. A large, bald head peeked in. When I say large, I mean this was a head the size of a normal man. The head ducked down and the body it was attached to lumbered into the room. The ceilings in my house are over four and a half meters high, but he still scraped his head.

  ‘‘An ogre!’’ I spat.

  ‘‘Zach, this has nothing to do with wild sex parties,’’ Sexy said, trying to sound intelligent.

  ‘‘That’s orgy,’’ Shannon corrected.

  ‘‘Oh, right,’’ Sexy said, sinking back behind us.

  I sized up the Ogre. The only thing more noticeable than his girth was his disfiguration. His nose was bent in more places than I could count and stretched down his face, overlapping his mouth. The teeth his mouth did have were sharp and jagged. He vaguely reminded me of the cavemen I saw in museums, only three times as large and even more macabre.

  To complete the caveman ensemble, he was dressed only in a fur rag and carrying a large wooden club.

  ‘‘Oh, that club so does not go with that outfit,’’ Sexy observed.

  ‘‘That was an antique door,’’ I shouted at the intruder.

  The Ogre looked at my door lying smashed on the floor. He looked at the dent in my door frame. He scratched his head.

  ‘‘Ah, sorry, Mr. Johnson,’’ he said in a high pitched squeal. ‘‘Mistress Threa has no quarrel with you. I am sure she will make remuneration.’’

  The Ogre pointed a long, bent, index finger at Sexy. His fingernails looked like claws. ‘‘You are the one she wishes to speak to.’’

  Sexy peaked out from behind her cover of Shannon and I. ‘‘Make an appointment with my assistant’s assistant’s assistant, and I’ll squeeze her in next year.’’

  The Ogre shook his head. I swore I heard rocks clanking around. ‘‘The Mistress does not work that way.’’

  He took a step forward.

  I pointed my gun at him.

  ‘‘Sexy is under my protection now,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Screw that,’’ Shannon said, standing straight and throwing out her rather impressive chest. ‘‘Sexy is under my protection.’’

  Shannon focused her glare on the Ogre. I was all too familiar with that look. She was blasting him with mental energy.

  The Ogre for his part knew this and was amused by it. He bit off a fingernail and spat it at Shannon.

  ‘‘Oh, gross to the meg,’’ Sexy mumbled clinging onto my leg.

  ‘‘Ogres are immune to mental attacks,’’ the Ogre smirked.

  ‘‘Let’s see how you handle this,’’ Shannon said. She drew a deep breath, looked at the Ogre, then exhaled on him, hitting him with her toxic breath.

  The Ogre inhaled and smile. ‘‘Please, I’m an ogre. We live for toxic things like that.’’

  Shannon took a karate stance. ‘‘Let’s see what you’ve got, big man,’’ she taunted.

  It didn’t take my keen P.I. intellect to know how this was going to turn out. Shannon may have been a very powerful mutant psi, but she was out of her league when dealing with something from the mind of any of the Thompson sisters.

  The Ogre moved forward on Shannon. Shannon hit him with a sidekick in his oversized beer (well, more likely ale) belly. If the Ogre felt it he didn’t show it. The Ogre put his palm on Shannon’s shoulder. Shannon crumbled to the ground, out colder than Pluto in winter.

  ‘‘The Vulcan nerve pinch?’’ I said to the Ogre.

  He shrugged. ‘‘There isn’t much to do in Threa’s realm so I watch a lot of ancient TV.’’

  The Ogre moved towards us. I had to give him credit; he had style, in a vulgar and geeky sort of way. The thing was, I couldn’t let him harm Sexy.

  I aimed my weap
on at him. The laser sights turned on, locking on his head and chest.

  ‘‘I’m betting you’re not immune to high-powered weaponry,’’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘‘You’d win that bet.’’

  The next move caught me totally off guard. The Ogre swiped at me with his club, knocking the Colt 2062 out of my hand and sending it flying across the room. Moving quicker than I thought he’d be capable of, the Ogre went to give me the Vulcan nerve pinch. I anticipated his move, ducking under his massive hand. He swung backward at me though, swatting me across the room.

  I hit the ground and rolled up. Luckily he, like so many of my opponents in the past, had underestimated me. He thought that swat would knock me out cold. I’m a lot tougher than people think. (Of course the carbon-reinforced underarmor helps too.)

  The Ogre was now ignoring me, concentrating solely on Sexy. That was his first mistake of the fight. I reached down to my ankle holster, grabbing my good old Colt .44. (It wasn’t a true Colt .44, it was a modernized version, but it still looked cool and it got the job done.) Not wanting to give him a chance to react, I lifted it up and pulled the trigger.

  My gun made a very satisfying BOOM. The bullet hit the Ogre square in the back. He exploded into a cascade of bubbles.

  ‘‘Now that was different,’’ I said.

  HARV appeared next to me for the first time since the fight began.

  ‘‘Where the DOS were you when the chips were down?’’

  ‘‘The Ogre emits some sort of computer dampening field. I was working my way around it.’’

  I walked over to Sexy and helped her up. I gave her one of my patented ‘‘everything will be cool’’ smiles.

  ‘‘See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’’

  HARV tapped me on the shoulder, which wasn’t that easy for him to do since he was a hologram. If he was expending the energy needed to do this then something was up. HARV pointed out my living room bay window. Three more ogres had appeared. These had long hair and saggy breasts. They were females.

  ‘‘I compute that they are mad because you destroyed their mate,’’ HARV said.