Without turning from his work, Charlie replied shortly. “Still can’t seem to get through to him. It’s like he’s there, but he won’t respond. I may have to take drastic measures.”
Terry didn’t like the sound of that. “Such as?”
Without a hint of any of his newfound humor, Charlie simply asked, “Where is the Taser?”
Terry nearly dropped the phone. In his mind, he fairly shouted at Charlie. “You will not Taser her just to get this thing’s attention!”
Charlie backed off immediately, saying, “I was only kidding! And no, I don’t know why! This is starting to scare me, too!”
Traci, meanwhile, was becoming antsy. She was confused, too, but her answer to the whole thing was more primal. If she had screwed up her life almost beyond repair and this was her last chance to fix it or if it was too late and all this would ever be is a memory to serve as a reminder of what she lost, she seriously intended for it to be a good one.
Terry pulled her up to face him, still keeping as much body contact as he could, as he put a finger to his lips and mouthed the words, “This is important.” Not happy but at least not ignored, she pouted playfully but said nothing. He had a job to do, and she knew it had to come first at least at the moment. And besides, she had already decided they had all night.
Terry wrote down a number to reach Smyth, thanked the operator and clicked off the phone. Turning to look at the girl still on his chest, he mentally checked with Charlie.
“How goes the hunt?”
He could feel Charlie’s tension. It was unlike him as well.
“I found him, but he still doesn’t respond. It’s like he’s dazed or stunned. If I thought it was possible, I’d say he was drunk.”
Terry wanted to ask how Charlie knew what it was to be drunk but remembered when he had first found out about him, he had spent several days on a tear that would have set a record somewhere. If nothing else in those days, Charlie learned about drunk.
“Do what you can, but do it fast. This girl is hot to trot, and to tell the truth, so am I. And I don’t think you have anything to say about it.”
Again, he could feel the grin. “Ah, but that is where you are wrong, old friend.” A moment later a rather rude noise escaped from Traci.
“Ohh! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it had been so long since I’d eaten.”
In an overly dramatic act of chivalry, Terry did his best to look suitably astonished. In his best over-the-top voice, he roared, “What? My lady has not partaken of victuals of late? I say thee nay varlet! Come, we must conquer this dreaded dragon of hunger afore it decimates my lady farther!”
Traci’s brow knitted together in a confused look before she finally squared off looking him in the eye as she said, “Huh?”
Then, in a southern accent equally over played, he drawled, “Let’s get us some vittles!”
Traci’s face fell like the proverbial ton of bricks. She stared in open-mouthed astonishment at Terry for all of three seconds. Then she doubled over in laughter.
“Are you crazy?”
“More than a little!” Terry smiled back. “Now, where do we find a decent pizza in this berg?”
Traci made a face. “Ugh! Please! Most of these guys wouldn’t know good pizza if it bit ‘em.”
Terry raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a little snobbery in there. Where did you say home was anyway?”
She gave him a mischievous smirk. “I didn’t. But if you need to know, I’m from Chicago. And if Big Gino ever ate a pizza in this place, he’d swear out a blood oath to kill everybody here that thought they could cook. Strangely enough, though, they do have a little Italian restaurant that makes a great veal parmesan. And they have a truffle oil vinaigrette salad that will curl your socks.”
Terry looked her up and down then said casually, “Funny, you don’t look Italian.”
She grinned openly at him. “I’m an honorary pisan. Big Gino gave me the whole spiel and kissed me on both cheeks.”
“I thought that was the mafia?”
“Whatever. Do you want to try one?”
“Do they deliver?”
“Yeah, but they will take their time.”
“What’ll it cost?
“I’d guess around eighty with a decent tip.”
“Got the number?” Terry was reaching for his pants and wallet, but Traci waved him off, grabbing one of the hundreds lying on the desk. “I got it.”
Terry looked at her. “You buying dinner?”
“No, you are. This is still your money…for the moment.” Her smile said he had more to expect from this evening.
Nodding, he simply said, “I need to make a call.”
“Business?”
Terry sighed. “What else?”
* * * *
Talbot Smyth sat at his desk going through the little information they had about the Cab Killer, as they called him around the office. It was so scant as to be worthless. Even the pictures the cab cameras got were useless. Grainy images with blurry details, they showed little in the way of usable info. There were no pictures anywhere of this guy.
They had even traced the last trips the cabs had made. They were several similarities between the pick-ups. All of them had been from well-lit, public areas, all of which were under video surveillance, but even with that, there were no identifiable pictures of the perp. He had showed up, for all intents and purposes, just in time to step into the cab. Investigations found pictures from the security cameras on site, but again, none of them had enough detail to help with identification.
They had found out one thing though. All the places this guy was picked up had on-site monitors of their property. All of which used a monitor rather than record-style favored by companies these days. The system let you see a live feed and then sent that live feed to a recorder that fed it to a flash drive. Once it was full, it was cataloged and filed away with dozens of others. It was, many thought, the cheapest way.
Smyth had no idea if they were right. In this case, though, it had given their boy the perfect way in. He just couldn’t figure out how.
In every case, the perpetrator had shown up immediately following what appeared to be a glitch in the system. Only the glitch was only on the recording. In every case, the monitor had reported no problem on their end. It was only during the playback that they realized they had no idea what had happened.
Smyth sat down the file and shook his head. He detested computers and the video-arcade age they had ushered in. With all their ultra-efficiency, they provided their own weaknesses to the ones that knew them well. This was such an instance. Somehow, someone had found a way to neutralize the cameras just before showing up on them. There was no chance it wasn’t deliberate, as every one of the glitches showed up and disappeared in sync with the perp. Whatever was happening, this guy was behind it.
And it had been the same in the cabs themselves. There had been several that had cameras inside. The trouble was that examination of recordings showed several instances of the glitch they were using to identify the times of their perp’s appearances, but there weren’t always killings that night. Further investigation showed that the persons that got into the cabs at or near that time, none matched any of the few details they had. It was as if the son of a bitch was waiting for a certain cab.
It was only later that one of the cabbies they interviewed had quipped, almost off handedly, that the cabs on duty at that location on one of the nights had passenger dividers. A Plexiglas shield kept the driver separate from irate passengers. Most cabs didn’t have them but several of the newer ones did. They had, apparently, saved a few lives here.
Or at least they had. The last three had been equipped with the newest dividers, electronic numbers that slid up and down at the touch of a button. Hard wired into the car, the only way to control them was by the button at the cabbies command. Yet, the drivers were killed not only still behind the shields, the shields were still up.
Smyth sighed as he sat back. The facts wer
e all there, and they meant nothing. The men and women that had driven those cabs were dead, the person that killed them was still out there and there was every indication that there would be more to come.
He had left a message for Terry Bridger to call him at his earliest convenience. He had no idea if he could help, but at this point, he couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
While Traci had ordered dinner and Terry called the number left for him by Smyth, Charlie finally managed to break the stupor Traci’s Chrliti was in. In the process, though, he made an amazing discovery. Thanks to the strength of Traci’s bioelectric fields, her Chrliti was receptive to Charlie on a separate level than others of their kind. And he was able to maintain that contact even though they were only touching, rather than making love. It was not as strong as the normal connection he had had with others of his kind before his connection with Terry, but given that, up until now, he had been unable to contact anyone without Terry having sex with them, it was amazing.
Now, he had found that the connection had drawn the Chrliti’s attention. And the conversation had begun with the usual.
“Greetings! Where did you come from?”
Charlie didn’t mind. At least he had obeyed the tradition of greeting before the conversation began.
“I have a rather unique relationship with my host.” Charlie answered in their language. “I am for all intents, invisible to our people except during the intimate connections made while my host is having sex. Only when the fields merge can I communicate with others of our kind. But I am strangely able to contact him openly and actually talk to him. It has its gratifications.”
For a moment, the Chrliti contemplated what that meant, finally saying in an almost awed tone, “Then, you spend most of your time alone, but for your host?”
Charlie found himself amused, but for the moment, he decided against revealing the rest of his situation. There was no need at the moment, and given that he might never see this Chrliti again, he wasn’t going to reveal everything.
So, he simply gave his people’s equivalent to a shrug. “It makes the meetings I can get far more meaningful.”
To that, the Chrliti, identified as Mir, asked quizzically, “Why do you not find a more suitable host?”
Again opting for discretion, Charlie simply said, “He needs all the help he can get.”
To his surprise Mir replied, “Yours too?”
Charlie seemed surprised by that, but for the moment, there were bigger issues. He went on to the matter at hand.
“Have you been in contact with many of our people?”
“Few. There are not many of us around this area. She herself is an immigrant to this area. She only arrived here six months ago.” He seemed to sag for a moment then. He went on, “Her life has not been kind. One of the reasons I have chosen to remain with her.”
His choice mystified Charlie. “How do you mean, not been kind?” For a moment, Charlie could feel the sadness radiate from his brethren. He was genuinely moved by his concern.
The creature went on. “I have been with her for several years, before she got married, divorced and wound up in this sad line of work.”
Charlie was amazed by his choice of words. Among his people, there was usually not much concern with the condition of the host’s long-term mental condition. It was simply not an issue. If your host did not suit your desires, you repaired the damage you found as payment for the energy you used and moved on to a new host until you found one that suited your mindset. Unless, like Charlie, you couldn’t leave.
Mir went on, unaware of Charlie’s predicament, “I find myself in the strange position of being charmed by my host. She has a very unique mind and a very…pleasing bio-field. I hate the thought of leaving her. But her choices are counter-productive to herself and to me.”
Curious, Charlie asked, “To you?”
Mir gave the signs of being what Charlie would have thought of as embarrassment had he been human. “Her anger at herself, at her former husband, at the world in general after her situation changed, has corrupted her fields somewhat. They had become…less pleasing. During some of her episodes, far less. And when her friend was killed, she became even worse.”
Charlie began to understand. The Chrliti generally considered their own wellbeing first. It was normal if you were symbiotic to assume you had to be in prime condition to do what you did for them.
This one, like him, seemed to have developed a special attachment to their host. His, though, was not based on the fact that he was locked in apparently. So he went on, following his prepared line of thought.
“So, why did you seem to inhibit her pleasure centers during sex? Do you always do that?”
Charlie could feel the difference in Mir’s attitude. In an aura of mounting suspicion, he asked carefully, “Usually, yes. This time, though, I was unable to. Was that due to you?”
Charlie saw no reason to lie. “Yes, it was. Apparently, her field matches my host’s close enough to let my sensitizing of him affect her as well. His field is remarkably strong though. Enough so that through it, I was probably able to override your suggestions. It was unknowingly that I undid your desensitizing of her pleasure centers.”
“Yes, and I was unprepared for the onslaught. Her level of intensity was always impressive, even in the midst of her troubles. Usually, or at least of late, her fields had become disturbing, so I had neutralized the pleasure centers. At least there was none of the backlash she always experienced after one of her clients.”
Well at least that made sense. But there was one other thing.
“Why is she so…depressed?”
Mir sighed mentally. “She blames herself for everything that goes wrong in her life. Her failed marriage, her lack of interest in most of her former pursuits, even the death of one of her friends back in Chicago became the things that, in her mind, were her fault.”
“How was she responsible for the death of her friend?”
“She was not, but to her, it was another example of life being out to get her.”
“She does not seem to be…so delusional.”
Mir gave a mental headshake. “She is not. She knows these things are not her fault and that the universe is not out to get her, but she has moments when she indulges the fantasy. And usually that brings on another unjustified rant that drives her to the edge.”
Charlie had realized something a while back but now simply thought to confirm it.
“You care about her very much, don’t you?”
Again the embarrassment. “I know that our people generally frown on the attachments formed to these lesser beings, but…dammit, they are intelligent and sometimes exceedingly so! She could do great things if she would apply herself! All that holds her back is her own fear and her self-destructive tendencies! Instead, she sells herself, hoping that one day, a prince will come and carry her away on a white charger and she will finally live happily ever after.” After a second, he added in English, “What a bunch of shit!”
Charlie was surprised. Chrliti were not known for picking up idiosyncrasies from their hosts. In the hundred and twenty years since Chrliti had first arrived on Earth, humans had always been different. Or rather some humans. Most reacted to them just as other races had, which is to say not at all. But some of them had found they could influence humans, some more than others. Terry had been, to Charlie’s knowledge, extreme and unique. Given the way this female reacted, it was possible that this was becoming a trend rather than an incidental.
And this woman was another segment.
“Is there a reason for your choice of words?”
Mir radiated surprise. Then resignation as he realized what had happened. “I lose myself sometimes in her mind. It just seems so easy. And the colorful language she uses is cathartic. It helps her let off steam.”
Charlie was actually beginning to enjoy the conversation when Terry’s conversation struck a chord with him. And a part of that was that the conversation he was having w
as leading him to Chicago. And what neither of them knew was it was going to get closer to them than any of them knew.
* * * *
Terry had made the call and waited. Smyth had picked up on the second ring.
“Bridger here.”
“Terry! Good to hear you, old boy! Heard about your latest little escapade in the mountains of Montana. Fine work as usual.”
“Thanks. You wanna earn some points with me? See if you can figure out a way to get Benin off my ass.”
Smyth chuckled as he answered. “Afraid that would be a little out of my league.” Then, his voice dropped to a conspirator’s whisper, “But if the truth be known, he has a serious desire to find something on you to force you into the bureau or at least an exclusive contract with them. He likes your work. He just hates the way you do it.”
“Really?” Terry’s voice was a sarcastic pit. “Well, the funnier the way they show it, the deeper the hole you’re in. So what’s on your mind?”
Smyth went serious. “There have been a number of murders here in Chicago. We believe it was the same guy in each case, but we can’t be sure. To tell the truth, we can’t even be sure how many people he’s killed. There was no way to tell when he started, just when we noticed him. And since we did, we still haven’t a clue about who he is or why he’s doing what he does. All we know is that he doesn’t make mistakes and he doesn’t leave clues. And no matter what we do, we can’t get a lead on this one. The bottom line is we need help, Terry. And like the saying goes, your reputation precedes you.”
Terry nodded into the phone. “For whatever that’s worth, I could use the bread. I let the last one off light to help out the girl. No idea how that’ll work out, but I did my bit, so my conscience is clear. Just between us, what do you think this one would be worth? Assuming, of course, I decide to make the drive out there.”
Smyth didn’t want to speculate. The mayor had access to plenty of money, he was sure, but what he was willing to part with was another matter. He debated on lying but thought better of it. Bridger’s kind wasn’t likely to forgive one, and since there was no leverage against him, only his good graces made him available when they needed him. Best keep things on the up and up.
The Primal Connection Page 10