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Nexus

Chapter Five: When you’re hot You’re Hot

It took much longer than the two weeks Flynn had estimated to clear up all the paperwork for the shooting at the club run by the Indonesian gang. The victim had indeed been one of the Mayor’s confidants and the seizure of the club’s paperwork opened a can of worms that brought the federal police, treasury and immigration officials into the mix. Comparing the paperwork seized at the club to import and immigration files proved that the gang was smuggling in Anthros from disreputable breeders in Southeast Asia. A clear case of Species trafficking, violating customs duty and tax evasion.

Then there was the internal investigation, which was very meticulous give the connection with the Mayor’s office, but Ryan and Flynn came out of it all looking very good, given what they had uncovered and their ‘heroic’ attempts to save the victim’s life.

When the case was finally passed on Chief of Detectives Fanning himself came to their makeshift office to congratulate them, accompanied as always by his aide, Lieutenant Lawson.

“Looks like you still have it in you, Ryan.” Fanning said, clapping the big Irishman on the back. “Even if that Cheetah had not gone nuts your instincts to check their records against immigration documents was right on. And you,” he turned to Flynn, “what a shot! Too bad the Vic was already fatally wounded, but a completely justified shooting of the Cheetah either way.”

“She was a Clouded Leopard …” Flynn began, but the Chief had already turned back to Ryan and was continuing to heap praise on him for his detective work.

“There could be a commendation in this for you Ryan. Not even the Mayor can object to that, and that would go a long way to getting you reinstated in Homicide, where you belong.”

Ryan shot Flynn an embarrassed glance over the Chief’s shoulder.

“Flynn saw the discrepancy right away too, Chief. She was writing down some of the most suspect entries before I even mentioned my suspicions.”

“Eh, really? Good job training her on such short notice then. If she picks up enough from you before you leave here then she could possibly move to another Squad … in a few years.”

“I was in the process of recommending her for a citation for her good detective work in this case.”

Fanning frowned. Normally recommendations were kept confidential, away from the potential recipient in case they were turned down, as many were. Ryan bringing it up in front of Flynn was almost forcing the Chief’s hand.

Before the Chief could answer Lawson leaned in and whispered in his ear. Gradually the Chief’s expression changed from anger to reluctant agreement.

“Write her up for the shooting.” Fanning ordered as he turned to the door. “I’ll support that.” Then he was gone.

Lawson remained behind, pausing in the doorway. “Jesus Ryan, you’re lucky that the Mayor is promoting Anthro advancement at the moment, but you may have killed your own chance at a commendation with that stunt.”

“I’ve got enough of them already.” Ryan replied. “Rookies like Flynn need them more than I do.”

Lawson’s eyes flicked between the two. Ryan was looking more fit than he had in his last few years on Homicide, he noted. The big cop had lost weight and built back the muscle he had lost when he was hitting the bottle rather than the gym, filling out his suits in the right places now. Flynn could be considered good looking too, he supposed, if your tastes bent that way. Her fur was sleek, her eyes were clear and the human portions of her torso, evident at the moment because she was just wearing an open blouse instead of her usual three-piece suit, could rival that of the sex workers she was charged with policing.

“Just keep a professional relationship.” He warned them as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Flynn was flabbergasted, a term which had recently come back into vogue. “What did he mean by that?” She asked, turning to Ryann.

Ryan had flushed a bit at the Lieutenant’s comment. He had never had a workplace romance, or even considered one, not when he was working with human partners. But he had to admit that his eyes sometimes wandered over to Flynn when she was concentrating on the files and reports, and his mind had wandered after them on more than one occasion … wondering what it would be like to …

He shook his head and forced himself back to reality. He was her supervisor. She was his subordinate. There was and never would be anything more to their relationship than that. It had been his credo since he first made supervisor and a line that he had never crossed, nor was he about to, despite being single again.

He put on a stern face. “Ignore him, Flynn. Lawson has always been a bit of a git.”

“What’s a git?”

“Uhmmm … short for guitar I think … something that can seem pleasant at first but gets irritating fast if you bring it to a party.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks anyways for the vote of confidence.”

“Sure. Don’t sweat it. The shooting citation will look good on your record even if it doesn’t relate to your detective skills, and my original citation probably would not have gone through anyways.”

She was tempted to go up and give him a peck on the cheek, but stayed on her side of the desk, determined to play it as straight as he was.

“Right, Sarge.”

“Anyway, we’re free to get back to business now. What’s on the schedule?”

Flynn sat down at her desk and accessed her files. She had anticipated that they would be back in the field soon and had been concerned about the schedule. Originally it called for them to spend the first few nights visiting more of the clubs that catered to human women with a taste for Anthro, Furry or human boys, but it was nearing her time of month and she was afraid that too much exposure to well endowed and sexualized males would send her into heat again. To compound that, Clark was out of town and Ryan was the only other male she had regular contact with.

She had to admit that, in the short time she had known him, Ryan had gone from an underweight recovering alcoholic to a rather buff form that some of the human females around the station referred to as a ‘DILF’.

“A detective that I’d like to fuck.” They said with laughter when she asked what that meant. She suspected that they were being facetious, but she got the point. In his mid-forties with just a touch of grey at the temples and a build that could only be achieved through intense daily workouts on an already sturdy frame he was a tempting sight, especially for someone from a breed that instinctively respected seniority and authority.

It did not help that he was currently unattached and desperately lonely, even if he did not know it. She would have to be very careful over the next few nights, she thought. Maybe she could call the Dalmatian in 4C, the firefighter, if things got out of hand.

She bit her lip as she surveyed the schedule. Nothing but male strippers and weenier wagglers for the next three nights, unless …

They were scheduled to switch to the Northeast part of town soon, a more upscale neighbourhood where Gunderson’s gang owned a number of legitimate businesses. She had been worried about what Ryan might do when faced with his old nemesis, but so far he had been chill about the whole thing. He had not asked her to move them up on the schedule nor had he expressed more than passing interest in the clubs owned by the Norwegian gang. Although she had picked up a sour note or two over the last few months she was almost convinced that he had either dropped his vendetta or decided to wait until he was in a better position to go after the old Viking, as he once referred to Gunderson.

Certainly, anyplace on the force was better than the Club and Cabaret Squad to go after Gunderson, and if Ryan continued to play it cool he would be transferred soon, if she had read the Chief of Detective’s intentions right.

Making up her mind, she made a few quick changes to the schedule, moving the clubs in the Northwest up and pushing the male strip joints back until the week after, when it should be safer.

“I’m printing it out now.” She said, knowing that Ryan preferred to read them in archaic hard copy rather than on the screen.

Ryan leaned over and grabbed the schedule as it came off the printer. He grunted when he saw the revision; he had been keenly aware of where Gunderson’s clubs came on the original schedule. He forced his eyes to continue down the page and paid equal attention to the next two pages before laying them down on the desk.

“The Northeast, eh? Those are posh places for the elite, not the working class. The clubs there don’t open until late. I guess we’ll take a break for supper first then meet here at eight to head out.”

“You anticipate any problems we might need backup for?” Flynn asked, studying his face closely.

“Naw.” He replied, feigning disinterest. “They are fancy joints for the most part, respectable places, as respectable as any sex club can be, anyways. No, the gang that runs those clubs is into much bigger things than prostitution these days, and probably only keeps the clubs to launder money through.”

“Will we be able to see proof of any of that when we check their books?” Flynn asked.

“No. At least not without an insider to point out how the money is coming in and going out.” Ryan said thoughtfully, staring up at one corner of the ceiling as he thought about Jimmy ‘Fingers’. He had arranged to meet his CI at a surprisingly good little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in a part of town relatively free of crime, which meant not many cops or crooks hung out there. Then his returned his gaze to Flynn. “And since we don’t have one of those we’ll have to restrict ourselves to the usual employment records and receipts.”

“Okay, Sarge. What are you doing for supper? I was going to have a sandwich at my desk, but I could go for something hot.”

“I, uh, was going to meet an old friend for supper … at the Association Hall. Normally I’d invite you along but he’s kinda old school, set in his ways, if you know what I mean.”

More than you are? Flynn thought as a frown wrinkled her brow. She didn’t know if Ryan was hinting that his ‘old friend’ had a thing against Anthros or whether Ryan was just embarrassed to be seen with her in front of his friends on the force. Either way, it sucked. Besides, only the older cops ever ate at the Police Association Hall, and young Anthro members of the Force were usually given the cold shoulder there. If she went just to prove a point her reception was sure to be chilly.

“Sure, I understand.” She said as forced her lips into a grin that ended up more of a grimace. “My sandwich will spoil if I don’t eat it anyway.”

Ryan gave her a quick smile and a nod of thanks for her understanding before departing, leaving the door open.

Flynn took her sandwich and a drink from an insulated bag. Ryan had been trying to get them a small refrigerator but with no success. Still, the latest tech allowed the bag to keep small amounts of food almost as cold and she never brought too much at one time.

The sandwich was ham, not her favourite but it was all she had leftover until she could do a grocery; none of the food delivery services would come anywhere near her neighbourhood. The drink was fruit-flavoured water with no artificial ingredients, and uncarbonated because the bubbles tickled her nose and made her sneeze. She had found that Ryan did not suffer from the same ailment as he drank mostly fizzy, caffeinated drinks and the most he ever did was burp, followed by absent apologies.

Before she could unwrap her sandwich, a shadow appeared in the doorway and a familiar voice said, “Hey, Flynn! You workin’ on this floor now?”

She looked up. The speaker was the same German Shepherd from Tactical that Ryan had suspected was her boyfriend back when she was in heat last.

“Hey Chase! What brings you up here?”

Chase’s people had been breed for police and security work for generations, so it was natural that he join the Force even when he was at liberty to work wherever he wanted. The same was true for his litter mates Dash, Scanner and Shotgun; all four were on Tactical Squads on one Force or another.

“I had to drop some reports off at Records down the hall. Didn’t figure I’d see our hot-shot Detective on this floor. What happened? You get reassigned already?”

“No, the uh … squad … I’m with is kept separate from the rest of the Detective Division for, uh, security reasons.”

Chase saw her sandwich still in its wrapper. “Say, I just got off shift and I was going to head out for a bite. Care to join me?”

She smiled. He was a good guy with a bit of a crush on her, but she had never considered dating him when they were co-workers. Now that they were in different Divisions though, she thought, why not? It might solver her lack of Clark problem should her heat set in to hard the next few nights.

“Love to.” she said as she returned her sandwich and drink to the insulated bag.

“Great! Someone told me about this little corner of the Italian neighbourhood that has a few smaller places with really good food.”

“By smaller do you mean … intimate?” She asked as she pushed past him through the door, deliberately holding his gaze as her chest pressed against his.

“Uhm, maybe.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They took public transport. With his salary and Tactical Squad bonus he could have afforded a used vehicle but hardly anyone would sell one to an Anthro … and no one would insure it even if they did. Flynn had not thought about buying one herself, but with Ryan taking the duty vehicle all the time she could see the advantage of having her own transport. Maybe if she could convince Ryan to put his name on the papers as co-owner she could get it insured and then gradually shift the ownership into just her name. She made a mental note to look into it.

They emerged from the subway in a block that could be best described as ‘quaint’. The buildings were old, late twentieth century she guessed, but well maintained. They were mainly brick or stucco with vaguely Mediterranean flourishes like vine-covered patios and fake terracotta wine jars being used as planters. It was the kind of neighbourhood she could picture Ryan’s Italian mother coming from.

“Nice.” She complimented. “Are you sure that they take Anthros in these places?”

“Yeah, I checked it out first.” Chase replied. “It looks fancy but it’s a working-class neighbourhood, and a lot of the small businesses hire Anthro and Furry artisans because they do good work at reasonable prices. The restaurants and cafes are full of them, at lunch at least. Which one you want to try?”

Flynn spun on one paw as she surveyed the choices, but she froze when she saw the duty vehicle she shared with Ryan parked in front of one of the smaller places.

After she didn’t move for ten heartbeats Chase came up behind her. “Flynn? You Okay?”

She snapped her head from side to side to clear it.

“Uh, yeah ... I just got … buzzed. Hang on a sec.” She looked at her wrist communicator, which was silent, still and dark while her mind raced.

“Damn!” she swore as she pasted a disappointed expression on her face. “I just got called back to the station. Something about the report we filed on the club shooting the Chief needs to go over.”

Chase looked crestfallen, but he knew that a call from the Division Chief’s office could not be ignored. “Aw, that sucks. But hey, I’ll ride with you back to the station.”

“No! No … I mean, yes … but first I have to pee. Wait for me here and we can take the subway back together … and maybe I can have a rain check on that supper with you?”

Chase beamed. “Anytime, Flynn.”

“Okay.” She said. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked quickly to the small restaurant that Ryan had parked in front of and peered through the window. Not seeing her partner at the front tables she ventured inside.

The restaurant had been built inside an old brick house. There were several tables for four in what was once the parlour, with a washroom to one side, the kitchen on the other and several isolated booths beyond them.

She flashed her badge at the older Italian woman that approached with a menu in hand.

“Sorry, my partner and I are on a stakeout in the vicinity.” She told the hostess. “Nothing to worry about, but would you mind if I used your washroom? I, uh, don’t want to mess up the neighbourhood by peeing in your alley.”

The woman nodded and pointed to the washrooms without saying a word. Flynn bobbed her head in thanks and walked across to them, keeping her head low as she peeked at the booths.

She recognized the back of Ryan’s head sticking out over the top of one of them. He was sitting with his back to her. She was able to see the guy sitting across from him and he did not strike her as a cop, not at all.

She went into the washroom and actually did take a quick nervous pee. She washed and dried her hands before leaving. Exiting the washroom afforded her the chance to look directly at Ryan’s companion and study his face for a few seconds before turning for the door.

He was a weasel-faced, blond man in a cheap suit. She had seen that face before, in the files that she had digitized the first week of her assignment to Clubs and Cabarets, she was sure of it.

Outside, Chase was still waiting for her dutifully.

“All set?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied, slightly distracted as she struggled to recall where she had seen the man before. “Let’s head back.”

* * * * * * * *

Inside the restaurant Ryan waited patiently while Jimmy ‘Fingers’ Andersen dug into a serving of lasagne that was the house speciality. We have not made any travel plans for Sep/Oct yet

“Hey, this is really good.” Jimmy complimented as he wiped his face with the white napkin, leaving streaks of red tomato sauce behind. “Sure beats that crap coffee house we met in before.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Ryan said gruffly. “I usually only bring productive CI’s to places like this.”

“Yeah, about that.” Jimmy said as he leaned back and signalled for another glass of wine. “I may have something of interest to you. Say, how’s the Tiramisu here?”

“It’s fucking fantastic, but we don’t have time for that.” Ryan said, putting a large hand down on top of the dessert menu.

“Don’t be so stingy, Ryan. I’ve got some info about the clubs Gunderson owns, the ones you got to check out for your job.”

“What kind of info?” Ryan said, leaving just one finger on the menu.

“Like Gunderson is up to something with those clubs. Something he is taking a personal interest in.”

“How so?” Ryan slid the menu a little closer to Jimmy but kept his finger on it.

“Like something important enough to put under the supervision of his second-in-command, Jensen.”

Ryan had heard about Siggy ‘the Butcher’ Jensen. He had gotten his nickname from the meat processing business that he used as a front but had earned it as Gunderson’s main enforcer back when the Norwegians were fighting their way up from the streets. If Jensen was involved whatever it was going down at the clubs must be important … and profitable.

Ryan lifted his finger from the dessert menu and sat back while Jimmy perused it.

“I’d much rather hear more about his mole you say Gunderson has in the Police Department.”

Jimmy waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it. I might need some operating funds to loosen a few tongues though.”

“Share your Tiramisu with them. I said no cash until you give me a name.”

Jimmy put the menu down and grew serious. “It’s not like it’s the easiest info to get, Ryan. Only Gunderson, Jensen and maybe a couple of others know who it is. A guy could get killed just knowing that a mole exists.”

“Okay.” Ryan said as he pulled an envelop full of cash out of his jacket.

He had anticipated this and had several envelopes prepared with varying amounts of cash ready. The one he slid across the table to Jimmy did not have the most money in it, nor did it have the least. He figured that the tip about the clubs being used to cover something bigger was good enough for a payment, and the extra would incentivise Jimmy to pursue the mole angle. Meanwhile, he would make sure that he and Flynn took a good look at the books in the clubs they visited over the next few days.

Who knows, he thought, maybe like the incident in the Indonesian club, it would lead to something indictable. Then he could turn some of the mid-level leaders, pressure Jensen with the results and then go after the old Viking himself.

“Enjoy your Tiramisu.” He told Jimmy as he slid out of the booth and threw a generous credit voucher on the table. “Bring me a name next time and you can have chocolate sauce on it.”

* * * * * * * *

Back at the station Flynn held her sandwich in one hand and occasionally took a bite while waving the other hand over the sensory pad that controlled the computer. The records she had digitalized flew by as her keen eyes flicked from one profile picture to another.

There you are, she thought when she saw one that matched the person Ryan had been with at the restaurant. She expanded the file and began to read.

The blond man with the pinched face was Jimmy ‘fingers’ Anderson, she read, a minor member of Noah Gunderson’s gang of Norwegian immigrants and their descendants. He was a former pickpocket and confidence man that now did minor errands for Siggy “the Butcher” Jensen and other Captains of the gang. Andeson had a short list of charges and convictions and a long list of crimes he had been suspected of, but not prosecuted for.

One of the cross references that the computer had automatically made when she had fed the data in several months prior led to the CI files. It seemed that he had once approached the Department and offered his services but had been turned down because he was deemed not to have any value to the case. That case had been the murder investigation that had led to Ryan’s ambush and downfall, she noted.

There were several links to payments attached to Anderson’s CI file, unusual for someone who had been turned down, she thought. She opened them and discovered several payment accounts to people with different names under the authority of several different supervising officers going back to the when she and Ryan had been assigned to Clubs and Cabarets.

She sat back and chewed the last bit of her sandwich as she thought about the information that the computer had seemingly randomly attached to Anderson’s file. She was not a computer expert, but she did fuck one occasionally, and Clark liked to ramble on about his studies while munching on chunks of ham and cheese between activities. She had also consulted him when she was digitalizing the files, and he had been very helpful in showing her how to set up second and third level queries for the database she was creating.

“You’ll capture all sorts of obscure information,” he had told her, “But in order to keep the files manageable my process will attach those distant bits of information as links. If the relationship between them isn’t immediately evident just select the linked files and run the commonality query I wrote for you and it should make it clear for you.”

Selecting the names of the payees and supervisors from the files linked to Anderson’s she ran the query. Almost immediately it came back with a restricted data reply, meaning that she did not have the authority to access the results. Helpfully, however, it quoted the relevant regulation that resulted in the restriction, and she was able to look it up.

The result was very interesting, she thought. The regulation her query was quoting dealt with the finer workings of the CI files and payments, including the ability for supervisors of sensitive cases to enter payments for one CI under several aliases while simultaneously disguising their own identity from all but the annual audit. From the indoctrination sessions when she was promoted to detective Flynn knew that there were only a relatively few supervisors that had that authority.

A quick check of the personal files confirmed that Ryan was still one of those.

That gave her more to think about. The computer knew that the CI payment files were connected, even though the author and payee were disguised. Paired with Ryan having a meeting with Anderson in an out of the way restaurant could only mean one thing, that Ryan had taken Jimmy Fingers up on his offer to become a CI, and that meant that Ryan had been working on a way to get to Gunderson since day one … without telling her.

Why, she wondered? Did he not trust her? Did he know that she was secretly reporting to Lawson? Or was he trying to protect her, trying to keep her out of the shit if things went south?

She didn’t know what to think, or whether to report this to Lawson right away. She was still trying to decide when Ryan appeared at the open door.

He saw the empty sandwich bag on her desk, but her screen was turned away from him. Her hand movements over the sensory pad indicated that she was saving and closing whatever she had been working on. It must not have been important, he guessed.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yep.” She said, avoiding eye contact as she got up and reached for her jacket.

Ryan frowned when he saw her strap on the big projectile weapon she had just gotten back from Internal Affairs before donning her vest and jacket. They were going to nice clubs in a safe part of town, so the firepower was excessive, but he shrugged it off. It was their first outing since the shooting and she probably still had a case of the post-stress jitters, he supposed.

She was unusually quiet in the car also, he noted, but that too could be due to a case of nerves.

They were scheduled to visit three clubs associated with Gunderson’s gang.

“Oh.” He said as he parked the car behind the first club, a cabaret where Human and Furry ladies performed lewd dances, songs and skits. “Keep your eyes peeled for any signs that the place is being used as a front.”

“You mean like for gambling, prostitution or money laundering?” She asked.

“Yeah, anything like that.”

Her eyes narrowed as she thought about Ryan’s secret meeting with Anderson.

“What makes you think it might be a front?”

“Just a hunch. Gunderson’s gang is always up to something, sometimes without him even knowing.”

From had her doubts about that. From what she had read about the old Viking it looked like Gunderson ran a pretty tight longboat.

“Sure. I’ll keep a look out for anything suspicious.”

After entering through the back they stood off stage and observed the acts for a while. There was some nudity but no actual sex occurring on stage, or off as far as they could tell.

One act was a female Furry that looked like a Dalmatian doing a magic act that resulted in her clothing disappearing one item at a time until she was nude. Ryan was surprised to find it entertaining but a little embarrassed to be standing beside Flynn while he watched the woman with the canine traits disrobe.

“I’ve seen enough.” He announced. “Let’s go look at their books.”

They moved to the Manager’s office. The records were in order, with just enough sloppiness to show that they had not been fabricated to cover up nefarious activities. Neither Ryan nor Flynn could see any sign of excess funds coming in or out that were not accounted for. All the employee files were complete too, including DNA charts that confirmed that all the performers were either fully human or descended from them. It was the first time they had seen DNA results included in the employment records.

“Why do you think they have them?” Flynn asked Ryan.

“He, I mean they, are probably just being extra careful not to leave any angle that we can get them on.” Ryan shrugged. “I’ll bet that if we took samples from the employees and compared them to these records they would all match … and then we would be in shit for compelling then to give samples without cause.”

“Right.” She agreed. “No nexus. It would look like harassment, if a complaint was filed.”

Ryan didn’t answer, he was lost in thought, wondering if this was some kind of trap laid out by the wily old Viking. And if it was, was he the intended victim? Gunderson must suspect that I’m out to get him after the shooting, he thought, but how could Gunderson have known that I would be the one to come around poking his nose into the books?

He couldn’t, he concluded, unless … unless he really did have a mole high up in the Police Force … one with so much influence over assignments to ensure that it was Ryan who was assigned to the Club and Cabaret Squad.

The convolutions and conspiracies required to set this all up were giving Ryan a headache, but it was the same level of planning and forethought that had gotten Gunderson to the position he was in now, the unchallenged boss of the city’s underworld with puppets in all the high places.

He shook his head to clear it.

“Let’s move on to the next club on the list.”

The second place was a discrete whore house catering to successful mid-level businessmen. It was staffed with Anthro females of various species and builds. Ryan and Flynn were able to observe them through a one-way mirror as they paraded for potential clients. The employees were clear eyed and moved with the grace and confidence of willing and well-paid courtesans.

“Several have had their contracts bought out by regular clients.” The manager told them as he led them to a room where they could peruse the records.

“Does that make them their slaves?” Flynn asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“No.” The manager replied with perfect calm. “We are not privy, of course, to the terms of whatever contracts they may sign with their clients to pay off that debt, if any. But rest assured that all such transactions have been checked by our lawyers and duly registered with the City’s Commerce Department. Everything is legal and above board.”

“I’m sure it is.” Ryan mumbled.

The employment records again contained detailed DNA analysis. Former employee records included the circumstances of their parting and, In the case of those whose contracts had been purchased, the contact information and the amount paid to the Club both for the contract and for ‘administrative fees’.

“Damn.” Flynn commented after reading one such file. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes.” The manager said after glancing to see which file Flynn was reading. “She was particularly talented and quite in demand. I can provide tax records for that year to show that we paid the appropriate capital gains tax for that transaction, as well as all others.”

“Don’t bother.” Ryan said, pushing back from the table where the records were laid out. He turned to Flynn, who was staring at him while she crumpled the record she was holding between clenched fists. “It’s getting late,” he said, more to her than to the Manager, “and everything is in order here.”

She forced her hands to relax and made a half hearted attempt to smooth out the creases in the papers before pushing them back towards the manager.

“Right.” She said, letting out a pent-up breath. “Everything is in order.”

Back in the vehicle Ryan paused before engaging the battery drive.

“You okay?” He asked, looking over to where Flynn had jammed herself into a corner of the passenger seat.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just … the unfairness of it all. Sure, they are likely better off than half the Anthros in this city but … they’re just a commodity, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe if our friend the Mayor has his way that will be over soon.” Ryan said, not believing that he was praising the man responsible for him being in this situation. “He wants to give you Anthros rights, Right? I mean all of them, not just the ones that work for the city, right?

Flynn sighed and uncoiled a bit. “That’s what he says.” She admitted. “First, voting rights for any employed Anthros then, eventually, full citizenship and employee rights for those within city jurisdiction. It’s not quite the same as having inalienable Human rights … but it’s a start.”

“I guess that you’ll all be voting for him if that goes through.” Ryan said as he started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. “Think it will make a difference?”

“There are a lot more free Anthros than you think.” Flynn said. “Enough to sway the election if we all vote as a block.”

“That’s probably why the Mayor is making promises to you and the Furries then.” Ryan said. “The Humans have not been very happy with him lately.”

“First we need to get the vote,” Flynn replied, pursing her lips and nodding her head with determination, “then we can decide what to do with it.”

“Good plan. What’s next on the list?”

Flynn glanced at her wrist and tapped the surface of her communicator until the schedule appeared.

“Some place called the ‘Kit Kat Klub’. Supposed to be pretty high class.” She tapped the glass again to send the directions to the vehicle’s navigation system.

“On our way.” Ryan confirmed as he let the system take over driving.

They drove in silence, but it was a quick drive. Since implementing special licensing fees to bring cars into the inner city only official vehicles like theirs, vital commercial traffic and the rich who could afford it had vehicles on the streets, and less so at night. By midnight the traffic consisted mainly of cop cars, taxis and limousines.

The club was in an old stately building that may have been there for over two hundred years. There were no cars parked in front. Ryan pulled up and saw that was because the Club had managed to get the city to make the curb in front of the building a drop-off only zone. Defiantly, he parked directly in front of the steps leading up to the immense and intricately carved wooden doors then flipped down the visor to show the official police business tags.

The front doors were controlled by a keypad and an intercom with a camera. Ryan and Flynn held up their badges after pushing the intercom button and after a few seconds there was a soft ‘click’ and one of the doors swung open.

A human in a black suit was waiting for them inside. Two large canines in similar suits, Rottweilers, stood behind him eyeing the detectives with suspicion.

Ignoring Flynn, the man spoke to Ryan. “What is the problem, officer?”

“We’re with Clubs and Cabarets.” Ryan replied, holding out the papers that gave them the authority to enter and inspect the premises. “We’re here to look at your books and maybe check out how your employees are being treated.”

The man scowled. “This is a member’s only club.”

“But it’s a sex club, Right?” Flynn injected, stepping up close to the human. “And it’s under our jurisdiction.”

The Rottweilers were growling, but Ryan put himself between Flynn and them. “That’s okay,” he assured the doorman, “we’ll be discrete.”

The doorman led them down a wide hall with several doors on each side. The Rottweilers stayed by the front door.

“Where do these lead?” Flynn asked.

“Meeting rooms.” The man sneered.

“Maybe we should check them out.” Ryan said, stopping in front of one and placing his big hand on the antique silver knob. “Maybe we’ll ‘meet’ someone important.”

“You are here to check the books, not to hassle the club members.”

“And to check on the employees’ conditions.” Flynn reminded him. “And we can do that by walking in on whatever the ‘members’ are up to, but I’m sure that a posh establishment like this has a monitoring system, for the members’ safety, of course.”

The doorman frowned but indicated that they should follow him. At the end of the hall there was another door with an electronic lock.

“This is the management area.” The man said as he keyed in his code to open the door. “You can meet and interview the staff that are not otherwise engaged in their dressing room if you want. I’ll alert the manager to have the employment records and accounts ready for you when you are done.”

“And the Membership rolls.” Ryan said.

The man frowned. “You have no right to see that information.”

Ryan turned to Flynn. She mouthed the words ‘no nexus’ back. He turned back to the doorman.

“Alright. The other records will do, and we can interview employees later if there is a need. Where do you monitor the rooms from?”

The man pointed to a door marked ‘Security’ and went ahead to open it for them.

“These officers are here to inspect the premises.” He announced. You may show them the members’ area and answer their questions … within reason.” He added with a pointed stare at the detectives.

A human man and woman wearing white polo shirts with the club logo were sitting behind a bank of monitors. All the faces of the people in the rooms were blurred.

“For privacy.” The female security guard explained.

Flynn noted that the software they were using only blurred the human faces, leaving those of the Anthro sex workers clear.

Some of the monitors were scrolling through the common areas, the front hallway, the rear entrance, the street in front where their duty vehicle was parked, the bar. Others were dedicated to various ‘meeting rooms’, as the doorman had described them.

One room was equipped as a dungeon, where a buxom cheetah in a revealing leather outfit was whipping a middle-aged white man who was suspended by his wrists.

“The deputy mayor.” Ryan whispered into Flynn’s ear. “Even with his face blurred there is no mistaking that gut.”

Another monitor showed a similar room, but this time it was the Human paddling an Anthro canine who was tied to a black metal framework. He was putting a lot of force into his blows, and she did not have much fur where he was striking her.

The male security guard saw Flynn frowning at the monitor. “She has a safe word to let the client know when to back off and another to alert us so we can go in and disengage the member.”

“Do you always respond immediately?”

The male hesitated. “Sure.” The female injected without looking over to Flynn. “Can’t have a valuable asset damaged beyond use.”

Flynn took a half step toward her but Ryan put a thick arm up to stop her. Flynn reluctantly backed off and went to lean against the door with her arms crossed and her eyes blazing.

Ryan leaned in to check out the other monitors. “Christ, it’s like streaming all the porn channels at once.” He mumbled as every combination of male Human and female or male Anthro were displayed engaged in all forms of sexual activity. “What is she doing to him?” He asked, pointing at one of the monitors.

“That is called pegging.” The female said, adjusting the angle of the camera so that Ryan could get a better view.

“Ugh.” He quickly turned his eyes to another monitor, where a female feline was engaged with three human men at once in a round room surrounded by mirrors. Inset screens showed several other human men and women staring at windows the same size as the mirrors.

“What is that room?” Ryan asked.

“The voyeur room.” The man answered. “Members watch the performance through the one-way mirrors. Sometimes, like tonight, they volunteer to participate.” The man sent the camera around the room, displaying the action from every side as it made its circuit.

Ryan wanted to look away but found the scene fascinating. The ‘performer’ was a black, short haired feline with large breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips. The three humans in bed with her were relatively young and all were fit. One was on his back and she was laying on him with his cock inside her anus. A second man was kneeling between her legs, holding them up in the crooks of his elbows as he penetrated her vagina. The sway of his hips and the way his pelvis slammed into her with each thrust moved her on the man below her, who hardly had to do anything. The third man was knelling with a leg on each side of her head while she sucked on his cock, occasionally releasing it to lick and slurp around his balls while she rubbed his shaft with small, furry, black hands.

Her face was not blurred, and Ryan could male out all the details, the wispy whiskers, the rough pad on the end of her small nose, the pink patches of bare skin inside her upright ears, sharp white teeth behind black lips, emerald green eyes that peeked out from half-closed lids.

The members watching through the windows, some individually, some in couples, were either still as statues or fumbling under their clothing in ways that could only mean masturbation.

Ryan had seen this sort of thing before, but never live, and only with a human woman at the centre of the action. He was surprised to discover that he was getting hard watching the feline take on three guys, but something, some detail, was keeping him from becoming completely absorbed in the show. Something that was … not … quite … right.

Flynn had also noted the growing bulge in her supervisor’s slacks and was shaking her head in disgust, but then she saw him frown and cock his head to one side. Something he saw had also aroused his interest.

She stepped forward and followed his gaze to the monitor in question. She recognized that the people in the surrounding rooms were the audience for this act. The men going at the feline were likely not employees, because that would have been illegal; Humans and Furries could not participate in sex acts whether that meant acting as prostitutes or performing for profit in live sex shows. There was a loophole in the law, however, for unpaid exhibitionists, which would cover the three men, so as long as the Anthro ‘performer’ was the only one getting paid …

She froze mid-thought. She saw what it was that was bothering Ryan, even though he had not figured it out himself yet.

Flynn elbowed her Sergeant n the side to get his attention.

“Huh? What?” He said, fighting to refocus his attention away from the action that was rapidly nearing its conclusion, if he was any judge of such things.

“The feet.” Flynn hissed under her breath.

“The feet?” Ryan said as he quickly scanned the feet of the three men. “What about their feet?”

“Her feet. Look at her feet.”

Ryan did so, and for a second he could not figure out why they looked out of place, then it hit him.

“She has feet, not paws!”

“Yes.” Flynn rolled her eyes to the ceiling in thanks. “She has feet, so that means …”

“That she’s a Furry, legally a Human, and she can’t work here.”

“Uh, maybe we should call the Manager.” The male security guard said as he reached for a switch below the voyeur room monitor.

“Ah-ah, no touching.” Ryan advised as he pulled back his jacket and clipped his badge to his belt near the buckle. “You are going to keep that feed going and you are not going to erase the video I’m sure you are collecting, not until a Judge says it’s okay to do so. Meanwhile, you go ahead and call your manager. Tell him to advise the Rotties at the door that a substantial number of police officers and technicians will be arriving soon.”

Then he turned to Flynn with a satisfied grin on his face. “Call it in Flynn. We’re going to take this place apart.”