by C. G Harris
“Do you know where the locket is?” I tried not to sound eager, but my vice grip on his wrist may have been a giveaway.
“Not exactly.” Jonny shook his head and wrenched his arm out of my grasp. “I just heard the thing may have turned up. Like I said, I didn’t want to press unless you needed more definite information.”
Jonny rubbed his wrist, and I pushed down my frustration to offer him an apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that. I guess I got a little excited.” I folded my hands together to keep them from reaching for him again. “Information about that locket is very valuable to me. I want it back. If you can get me some good intel, I’ll be glad to pay whatever you want.”
If Jonny could do one thing, he could dig up information. He was like a mouse, able to squeak into any location and observe unnoticed. If there was dirt to be discovered, Jonny would hunt it down like a bad piece of Munster.
I reached under the counter and palmed an item from a hidden cubby. When I was sure no one was looking, I raised the cellophane wrapped cake and placed the single Ho-Ho in front of him.
Jonny’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, that’s way too much.”
I winked. “Take it. If you can get that info, there’s more where that came from.”
Jonny stared at the chocolatey goodness for a second then snatched the Ho-Ho up and shoved it into the pocket of his coat. “Thanks, Gabe. You’re always good to me.”
He pulled a rumpled piece of paper out of his other pocket and slid it across the counter. “Meet me here tomorrow night. I think you’ll like the place. It’s safe to chat there too.”
I nodded and pocketed the paper. “You’re a good guy. Be careful, though. Don’t get yourself in any hot water trying to dig up that info.”
Jonny shot me a sly grin. “What are you talking about? I’m the invisible man.”
I smiled as Jonny walked away. In a way, he was right. I suspected he dressed the way he did not because he had to, but because it helped him blend in. Dingy coat, sweatpants, one sock, and beat up old sneakers. The look of a homeless guy without coming across as dangerous or seedy, just ... invisible.
As he disappeared into the din of Woebegone souls wandering the streets, I thought about that locket again. There had always been something about it. I remembered opening the tiny clasp for the first time. I had expected a ray of light or a shower of skittles, but nothing happened at all. There was just a photo. An old picture of a woman. She always seemed familiar somehow, and the more I looked at it, the more I had become sure the stranger had been right. The locket contained something special. Something powerful, although I had no idea what it was.
I was sure of one thing. If the highest authority in The Nine wanted that locket, I needed to get it back, whatever the cost. Get it back and hide it, so it never fell into the wrong hands again.
Chapter Eight
I headed up the wide staircase leading to the main tower of the Judas Agency, hoping we would get to do something more than cosplay Business Barbie and Ken. The complex was made up of six dark towers, arranged in a circular pattern, and each had an ascending number of floors, making the place look like a monolithic spiral staircase. The sight itself was enough to strike dread into the stoniest of hearts. I worked here, came and went every day, and even I avoided looking up at it. Sometimes I wondered if Judas had some kind of hex on the place. Like a reverse magic mirror. Peer into my glass and see who’s the most ruthless of us all.
I dared a quick glance at the doors and saw something worse than a ruthless monster. It was Alex, and she wore her professional suit and boring, brown hair. She opened the doors as I got there, and I groaned.
“Not already?”
She raised an eyebrow at me and grinned. “What, you don’t like playing dress up?”
“Let me guess. We’re going to the party as delivery boys?”
“Not a boy.” Alex pointed to herself then turned her finger toward me and said, “You, on the other hand.”
I rolled my eyes and stomped a foot.
Alex blinked and went on. “Besides, we have graduated to babysitters. MiRACL is going public with their cure today, and we’re supposed to make sure the announcement goes nice and smooth. No delivery included on this one.”
“Are we expecting some heckler to shout pro-cancer propaganda? Come on. No one is going to do anything but clap.”
“There are plenty of people who could want him to fail. Big pharma, investors in big pharma, politicians who back big pharma. You sensing a theme here? Besides, Sabnack sent the orders personally, so we’re going.”
Sabnack served as the hellion head of our particular department in the Judas Agency. He was fifty percent man, fifty percent lion, and all armor-clad bad breath and attitude.
I put my arms up around my head mimicking Sabnack’s huge mane and snarled. “You two get up there and make sure Nick behaves himself.” I snorted and growled out a terrible impression of his voice. “No funny stuff, or I’ll have you swimming in the pools.”
Alex crossed her arms and cracked a smile, but she wasn’t looking at me. She looked behind me and about two feet above my head.
“He’s right there, isn’t he?”
Alex snorted at that.
I spun around and came face to chest with Sabnack himself. He stared down at me, his long, yellow teeth bared in what could have been a smile or a snarl. Either way, I was pretty sure he wanted to eat me.
“Is there a problem with your assignment, Mr. Gantry? If you aren’t satisfied, I am sure I could find something more to your liking. Maybe the Paris sewers, cataloging the bacteria in rat feces?”
“Paris?” I exclaimed, ignoring the poop detail. Alex punched me in the ribs—hard.
“What my partner meant to say is, we are very grateful for the assignment we have been given. Isn’t that right, Gabe?”
Alex balled her fists for another shot, and I wheezed out an affirmative as I hopped out of range.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect ... Sabnack ... Sir ... Sir Sabnack.”
Sabnack stared down at me with a placid expression. At least he wasn’t showing his pearly yellows anymore.
“I just hoped we might land something more exciting. Something, I don’t know, we could really sink our teeth into.”
Considering the pathetic leads Judas gave me, I had no idea what to ask for. I just had to hope the Catastropher would be involved with any new projects in the works.
Sabnack rubbed his chin and seemed to consider the request. “Now that you mention it, I do have a rather pressing assignment.”
I nodded. “Anything. I am happy to go out on additional missions.”
Alex covered her face with her hand and shook her head.
“Why don’t you pick me up a box of Twizzlers?”
“Twizzlers?” My face fell slack, and Alex’s shoulders began to shake as she struggled to stifle her laughter.
“Twizzlers, the red ones. If you bring back any of those new flavors, I will snap off both your pinkies and use them to clean my ears.”
So many parts of that visual made me want to dry heave, I didn’t know where to start. “Is that al—”
Alex managed to close the distance between us and land another jab in my ribcage before I finished the last word. I wheezed out the rest of my breath, and Sabnack bared his teeth in that half smile, half snarl.
“Good to see you haven’t lost any of your charm.” He leveled a paw at her face and nodded. “You may want to remind your partner that any assignment I give to him, I also give to you. So, before he begs to swab the anus of a million Gentoo penguins in the Antarctic, he may want to confer with you first.”
I straightened and managed to sip in a teaspoon of air, just enough to answer back. But when I opened my mouth, Alex threw another lightning fast jab into my diaphragm, doubling me over again.
“I think we understand each other now, sir.” Alex let her head tilt in an innocent, little angle. “Thank you for your help, and I will be sure
Gabe delivers your Twizzlers personally.”
“Thank you.” Sabnack tipped his head and turned to walk away.
I put my hands on my knees, both to suck in air and to prevent any more surprise attacks.
“I’ll be sure Gabe delivers your Twizzlers personally,” I chided. “For a tough girl, you sure are a suck up.”
Alex made a slow deliberate turn on her heels to face me. I straightened again even though every ounce of self-preservation instinct told me to cover up like a heavyweight boxer on the ropes. “Sorry, I was just ...”
Alex put up a finger so fast it made me flinch. “If we get stuck anal probing penguins because you can’t shut your mouth, so help me ...” She clenched and unclenched her fists.
“Calm down,” I said. “I get it. Waddle proctology is not high on your bucket list. But …” I let the pause hang for just a moment then I threw my arms out wide and said, “Don’t forget Paris!”
This time I was ready for the jab. I jumped almost before Alex moved. She pulled short and grinned as I fell backward over a bench sitting behind me. I managed to keep my feet but not without windmilling a flurry of knees and elbows just to keep my balance.
When I stood upright again, I made a show of brushing off my t-shirt and jeans. “Meant to do that.”
Alex nodded. “You managed it beautifully. Those yoga classes are really paying off.”
I wanted to say something back, but I had nothing. So I just sneered at her instead.
“If you’re finished, we need to head out. I, for one, am happy to be dressed in something that doesn’t involve plastic sheeting and splash guards, so hurry up and go change.”
I turned and headed for the locker room where my fancy duds waited for me to retrieve them. Before I got too far, I turned and looked at Alex. “I promise I won’t get us assigned anywhere weird, but I do want something better. You do too. I can see it in your eyes.” I shot her a wink and kept moving.
Alex quirked one side of her mouth in a smile. “Just get dressed. We can fill out your job satisfaction survey later.”
Chapter Nine
“We had an entire rooftop to land on, and you wind up inside the pigeon coop.”
Alex eyed me with disgust as I brushed feathers, bird feed, and probably a pound of powdered pigeon poop off of my clothes. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun had already warmed the avian concoction to an eye-watering aroma.
“Forgive me if I haven’t gotten the hang of your vomit ride Topside yet. It’s hard enough keeping my lunch down, much less zeroing in on a perfect landing.”
The ride out on the Envisage Splice was never as pleasant as the trip back in. Judas Agents stepped onto the elevator on the bottom floor, and the Splice dumped you out in any number of uninhabited landing points Topside. Once my stomach caught up with the rest of my body, I usually found myself face down in a dumpster, ankle deep in pig crap, or any number of other charming locales. Like I said, Hell’s express elevator had a sick sense of humor.
“Don’t get me wrong, your landing disability was funny at first.” Alex backed away as I finished fluff cleaning my poop suit. “Okay, it’s still funny. But you are embarrassing. One of these days we’ll have to travel with another team, and then what? I have to fish you out of a sewage pond because you can’t concentrate? Just picture the landing point in your head, and that’s where you end up.”
“Just picture the landing point in your head,” I whined. “Yes, I know. That’s not the problem.”
We made our way down a set of stairs and onto a real elevator so we could head across the street and up to the main doors to the Denver Convention Center to show them our entry badges. The guy with the laser scanner, which was not a deadly weapon (I had learned that the hard way on a previous trip up), scanned them and let us in.
“So, what’s the problem with your landings?” Alex grimaced then reached up to pull a downy feather out of my hair. “Maybe I can help.”
I sighed. “Well, I can envision the landing point just fine.” I hesitated. “It’s just when it comes into view, and I spot a potential problem, I fixate on it, and that’s where I end up.”
“So, if we’re landing in an empty alley, and there is a pile of dog poop ...”
“Exactly. And thank you so much for putting that into my head.”
Alex laughed. “Don’t blame me because you’re a glass all the way empty kind of guy. Why don’t you concentrate on something else? Like landing on your feet instead of your face. That would be something.”
“I am so glad we had this little chat. Remind me to shoot myself if I ever want to do it again.”
Alex snorted out another laugh as we entered the auditorium. I was shocked to see thousands of attendees all chattering and clambering for their seats. The sound was almost deafening inside.
“Relax, we’ll iron out your little problem,” she said. “We just need to figure out a system that works for you. In the meantime,” Alex pointed to a grin on her face. “Free entertainment for me.”
I nodded. “What would I do without such a wonderful partner?”
“Probably wind up a steaming pile of goo.”
Alex made her way to the front of the auditorium area. When we got to the stage, we showed our badges again. Another scanny zapper, and somehow, this one told the gorilla guarding the backstage door that we were allowed inside.
“We can monitor things from here.” Alex took up a position just off the main stage where we could stand hidden by the heavy, black curtains. “I don’t see a reason we even have to announce ourselves unless something goes wrong.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s giving a speech. What are we going to do, feed him his lines if he freezes up? Maybe I could juggle. I learned how to do it when I was a kid. I never graduated to chainsaws and machetes, but I got pretty good.”
Alex blinked at me. “The girls must have been beating down your door.”
“Never underestimate a guy with three balls.”
“I am not even going to touch that one.”
Alex turned away from me and focused her attention on the stage. A large, glass podium stood in the middle, topped with a single, slender microphone. Other than that, Nick would be alone with the spotlights and about ten thousand staring eyes. Sounded like a whole different sort of hell to me.
I rubbed my arms. “Don’t they use the heat in this place? It’s freezing in here.”
Alex shook her head. “Maybe you need a taste of The Nine’s weather again. The Judas Agency gives your body’s thermostat back, and now you need a blanket every time it gets a little chilly.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “I never expect sunshine and rainbows from you, but what’s up your—”
Alex turned a glare toward me, and I cut the question short.
“Nothing, I just want everything to go smooth, that’s all. We’re riding too close to the edge at the agency right now. Let’s just make sure things go by the numbers, and I’ll be back to my surly self in no time.”
I smiled. “Everything’s going to be fine. Like I said, it’s a speech. What could go wrong? We’ll act like shadows then disappear when the show’s over. No problem.”
Alex nodded, looking no more convinced. “I think I am going to take a look around all the same. Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee, and stay here, in case the speech starts before I get back?”
“Sounds good.” I saluted her with a sloppy toss of my hand. “I’ll hold down the fort. You’re on recon.”
Alex eyed me again. “Try to take this seriously, will you?”
I threw out my hands in placation. “I am being serious. I will guard this curtain with my life. I think someone has a case of the hangrys.” I raised an eyebrow at Alex. “Why don’t you grab a sandwich? Maybe a MLT—a mutton, lettuce and tomato—where the mutton is nice and lean.” Alex stared at me like my forehead had just given birth to a thousand tiny aliens.
“Oh, come on. Miracle Max?”
“What’s that? The name of your favorite
sandwich shop or something?”
I slumped in utter defeat. “Never mind. Go do your recon, but we need to do some serious pop culture training later.”
“Whatever.” Alex waved me off and headed back behind the stage. I headed straight for the snack cart. I hadn’t had a cup of coffee in almost forty years. This was about to be a religious experience.
I reached out for one of the little paper cups and searched around for the coffee pots but didn’t spot any. I had a feeling they were right in front of my face, but my 1980s vision kept them hidden from view. I followed a trail of empty sugar packets to a row of fat cylinders. They all had spouts but no apparent on and off valve. I thrust my cup under one of them, hoping the thing would dispense the liquid gold by some sort of technological magic, but nothing happened. I was just about to pick one of the fat cylinders up and see if I could unscrew the top when a large man shouldered me to the side.
“Excuse me, buddy, I’m in a hurry.” The guy wore a suit big enough to double as a weather balloon, and it was twice as ugly. Every department store carried that shade of grocery bag beige, but no one ever wore it. Large yellow-lensed shooter’s glasses covered his eyes, and a trimmed row of whiskers highlighted the area where his jaw should have been. Without another word of apology, he thrust a coffee stained mug under one of the spouts and pressed down on the top. The big, black button depressed, and out came the prize. I was so excited, a joyful, little giggle escaped my lips, which drew an odd stare from obnoxious Coffee Guy. I didn’t care. I was about to extract an honest to goodness cup of coffee. I waited for Coffee Guy to finish making his, more sugar than coffee seemed to be his motto, then I stepped in to obtain my own. I reached out with a trembling hand, ready to press the top, when someone else bumped me off balance and caused me to squirt hot coffee onto my hand. Was this some sort of Topside coffee conspiracy?