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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love Who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait For No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Chapter 6 - Three Things That Cannot Be Hidden

Sunset comes late in the northern regions in summer, and dawn comes early. At this time of year it was not unusual for the sky in Ottawa to still have a little light left in it at ten at night and see the first rays of dawn just after four in the morning. That meant that the creatures that depended on the darkness to conduct their business had to move quickly if they wanted to stay productive.

In Marcel's case he did not have much to do other than to survive and avoid the police, but that was proving to be more difficult than he had imagined. When he lived on the street he had a network of friends and acquaintances that would tip him off if the cops were around. But the street population has a high turnover rate. He had lost contact with most of them since joining the Foreign Operations eXecutive several years ago. The ones he could trust not to believe the story about him being a child molester and killer had moved on since. The new crop would be more likely to turn him in for the reward than help him, so he not only had to avoid the authorities, he had to avoid all the other creatures lurking in the shadows as well.

Leaving town would only have been slightly safer than staying. From the snatches of conversation he overheard and the cast off newspapers he read the city was locked down tight as police searched cars, cargo vehicles, trains and even boats on the Rideau Canal for the fugitive fox. He was listed as armed and dangerous, and it was rumoured that a rare 'shoot-to-kill' order had gone out. Fortunately for him the streets hadn't changed much, and there were still a few good hiding places that the average bag lady could not get into but a small, young, and fit fox could. But there were only a few, and he would have to relocate every night.

One such hide out was a former pawn shop on Gladstone Avenue. It was abandoned when the owner died and was supposed to be torn down years ago, but just a month before it was due to go under the wrecking ball the city ordered the new owner of the property to paint over the graffiti on it. To spite the city for ordering beautification of a building due for imminent demolition the owner had painted it canary yellow. Strangely enough, that not only satisfied the city, it deterred the druggies that used to hang out in the abandoned building and started a 'save the yellow house' campaign. The building was still standing, although the yellow paint was again covered with graffiti. Now only a few local kids played there, skateboarders mostly.

Marcel knew that the brick work had collapsed in the rear of the building. That made it possible for a limber creature to climb up on the roof and reach one of the few windows that were not boarded up. The climb would keep the average street person out, and the heat wave the city was undergoing would keep the neighbourhood kids from venturing into the stuffy, airless interior. Furthermore, there were a number of small streets and school yards that he could use to get there, thus avoiding the places where the cops were likely to be patrolling.

He arrived at the building around three in the morning after spending the night searching for food and news. Along the way he had picked up a few accessories. He had found an LED flashlight on a bunch of keys someone had dropped. He kept the flashlight but hung the keys on a lamp post where the owner might see them if they came back looking for them. A pair of heavy-framed glasses had come from the same charity bin as his clothes. Marcel poked the lenses out of them and wore the empty frames whenever he had to cross the street where there was traffic. It was amazing how much just that little addition changed his looks.

Marcel checked the perimeter of the yellow house. There were some tracks in the dirt around the building but it was impossible to tell how long they had been there. The ones that were most distinct were made by a brand of skate shoe that he himself had endorsed as 'Anthony Foxx'. They looked to be about a size nine or ten, about average for the older skate kids that hung out in the area. Marcel took one last look around and scrambled up the partially ruined wall in the southwest corner, the one furthest from the intersection and hidden from Gladstone, the busier of the two streets. There was a flat area with a ledge leading to an unsecured window on the second floor. Marcel slid along it, his dark clothes blending in with the dark tile on the roof, and paused at the window. It was in a shadow cast by the streetlights on the avenue and he was invisible there. The window did not appear to have been opened in some days. He eased it open and listened for any signs of an ambush. After spending five full minutes perfectly still, hardly breathing and with a diminished heart rate, a skill taught to him by Silver, Marcel entered the old house and slid the window closed.

He took an empty pop can from his pocket and balanced it against the window, so if anyone was following him he would have a warning. He refrained from using the flashlight for the moment, even though it would be safe enough up here on the second floor where the windows were still covered in a thick layer of paint. Although his eyes were already adjusted to the dark he waited another fifteen minutes before moving any further in. Anyone lying in wait would have to have unwarranted patience to keep still that long. Finally satisfied that he was alone, Marcel moved from the small chamber with the window to an interior room.

"Hello Marcel. Close the door."

Marcel's heart skipped a few beats, even though he recognized the voice and half expected to run into the old fox sooner or later.

"Jesus Silver." Marcel said as he pulled the old warped door closed behind him. He noticed that it rotated smoothly and silently. Sniffing the air he caught the faint smell of penetrating oil. "Can't you at least breathe or something? Give a guy a hint that you're there?"

"Sorry, force of habit." Silver replied as he lit a battery powered lantern. It was bright enough to illuminate the room. Marcel looked Silver over. He was dressed in a golf shirt tucked into clean jeans, and wore a pair of skater shoes, the kind Anthony Foxx endorsed. They were bright red with white trim. Silver saw where Marcel was looking. "As your 'Business Manager' I get a discount from the manufacturer. I wear them when I work on my rock garden. They grip the slippery rocks by the pond pretty good and they don't look as ridiculous as those plastic ones. Sit down."

Silver was seated in the only decent chair left in the old house, an overstuffed armchair that he must have carried up himself from the office where it usually sat. Marcel noticed that he had also brought in two stools, an office chair that was missing two of the five casters, and several plastic milk crates. He chose a tall stool, not trusting the office chair or wanting to sit at Silver's feet on a milk crate like a supplicant.

"Expecting Company?" The young fox asked.

"I invited a few others over, but only confirmed the location when I heard you at the window. They should be here soon. How are you holding up?"

"Fine. I could use an Ice Cappuccino, mind you."

Silver lifted a satchel from the floor where it was hidden in a shadow. "It might be a little warm. I had no way of knowing when you would arrive."

Inside the bag Marcel found a small cooler with a large chilled coffee inside. There was also a half dozen nutrition bars, a set of his favourite knives, some clothes, cash, clean underwear and socks. The coffee was his favourite flavour and it was still cold. He gulped it eagerly.

"Thanks." He acknowledged between sips when he slowed down. "How did you get in here?"

"I had a key made for the back door before I recruited you, when I was checking you out." The older fox shrugged. "It was one of the three places you used when you were hiding out after cutting that bison. I knew that you would use it again if it was still secure, if not tonight then tomorrow or the next night."

Marcel shook his head. The old bugger probably knew the streets of this town better than all the cops and half the street people out there. He was about to ask how things were going at FOX when a change in the air pressure made the room's other door shift in its frame. He and Silver both went silent and still. After a minute Marcel heard the soft creak of old floorboards and a shuffle on the stairs.

"It's Vikki, with Algorath." Silver told him. Marcel's jaw dropped in amazement. He could barely make out the sound of their progress, let alone determine how many and who they were by the sound alone.

"They were closest." Silver tapped an earpiece to reveal the secret. "Everyone has been reporting in regularly since I told them where to gather." He dimmed the lamp when the sound of shuffling feet reached the doorway.

"All clear. Sable is here." Silver spoke into his wristwatch when the door did not open immediately.

The door swung open and Vikki stepped into the opening, her pistol up and ready. She surveyed the room quickly to make sure that it wasn't a trap, and that Silver was not under duress. Satisfied she slipped the gun back into its holster under her loose blouse. She stepped inside, followed by the young hacker, Kain Algorath. Only once the door was closed again did Silver take his paw out from between the cushion and the armrest of the chair. He must have a gun down there, Marcel thought. Things must be pretty bad at the Academy if Silver and Vikki were drawing guns on each other, he realized.

"Grab a seat." Silver indicated the boxes and broken chairs arrayed in front of him. "The last guest should be here any minute."

While they waited Silver brought Marcel up to date on the events at FOX since the deadly encounter at the convenience store. Marcel in turn sheepishly detailed how he was tricked into accompanying the squirrel home and drugged into a seductive stupor. After he was done he waited for the lecture that would inevitably follow whenever he made a mistake, but Silver remained silent, contemplative. The sharp sound of hard shoes on wooden floor interrupted his meditation.

"Ah, here she is." Everyone's eyebrows went up inquisitively, but Silver just waited, listening to the tap tap tap of approaching heels and the occasional curse in French. Even before she stepped into the doorway Marcel knew who it was, her appearance only confirmed it. Medium height, augmented by four-inch heels, fur shaved down to peach fuzz except for pompoms on the ends of her tail, ears, wrists and ankles, a bust roughly the size of the Sky Dome, an outfit tighter than the E string on a banjo and a snarky grin in a long narrow snout. It was the party poodle, Silver and Gold's secretary, Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche.

"What is she doing here?" Vikki asked, a chill evident in her voice.

"I have come to be of service to your mate." Miss CC answered before Silver could. "I have zee valuable information for heem." As usual, her accent grew thicker whenever she goaded another female.

"I'll show you service you little ..." Vikki began to stand up but Silver pressed her back down on her milk crate. Vikki slid it over beside Silver's chair, glaring at the grinning poodle.

"Are you sure that we're safe here?" Marcel asked to change the subject. "Some of you could have been followed."

"I'm sure, and allow me to introduce why." Silver gestured to a dark corner of the room as he turned the lamp back up. A lump that Marcel had taken to be a pile of cast off rags or old curtains shifted, expanded, and stood. It was a nondescript weasel in unremarkable clothes. Something about him looked familiar to Marcel.

"Hey!" He said. "Aren't you the guy who called the cops that night a couple of years ago at the Dow's Lake Pavilion?"

"When you were yiffing Cindi, the Bulgarian spy, in her Pontiac." George smiled at being remembered, so few did. "She was a polecat-skunk cross, a punk. You said something rather funny while you were still drugged about that as I recall. You said ..." The smile disappeared from his face as Marcel took a menacing step toward the weasel.

"Sit down Marcel. George was only doing his job." Silver chided.

Marcel sat. Vikki gave her young colleague an inquiring look. "Cindi?" She mouthed silently. Marcel ignored her, but his face was bright red under the black fur.

"George is a member of the Watchers and he has agreed to work with us to clear up this ... misunderstanding ... between our agencies." Silver explained. Marcel knew the old fox well enough by now to tell from the expression on his face that Silver did not know why the weasel was working with them, but that he was not about to turn down an unexpected and badly needed ally. "He is a rather senior member actually, and he has managed to arrange the Watcher schedule to make sure we're not followed at crucial times. It was he that slipped the notes and radios that brought you here in your pockets or purses. He is monitoring the rest of the team that is supposed to be following us, and will warn us if they get too close."

"Why is he working with us?" Vikki asked, still suspicious. "Disobedience like that goes beyond his friendship with you Silver."

"Not all the senior officers of the RCMP agree with the new Commissionaire's objectives, or his tactics." George answered her directly. "There are factions within the Force, sadly enough. The decision to be loyal to one of them in particular is a ... a moral decision." Marcel noted the hesitation, but the weasel's body language indicated that he was speaking the truth, maybe just not the whole truth. He decided to give the weasel the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the guy had sort of saved his ass by turning him in before Cindi could suck anything out of him, any secrets at least.

"The leaders of the opposing faction cannot risk exposing themselves by running a parallel investigation." George continued. "But as long as you are free to they have agreed to pass certain information that may be helpful, and follow up on anything you discover, unofficially of course. If you can come up with any hard evidence implicating someone else in these killings they will act on it, but it has to be iron-clad, hard evidence; stuff that's acceptable in court. Speculation, suspicion and rumour won't cut it."

"Do you have anything for us now, George?" Silver asked.

"Before the latest rape-murder the child protection unit was investigating a list of persons they found on the Internet based on what the profilers said matched the killer. They were about to bring one of them in for questioning, then the focus switched to Sable here." George indicated Marcel. Marcel wondered how he had learned his code name. George went on to provide the details of one Reginald Paquin, a night watchperson at a scrap yard in the upper Ottawa Valley.

"A short black fox, just like Marcel." Kain verbalized what was everyone's mind.

"Where did you get this information from George?" Silver asked.

"I can't say, but I trust the source." George replied, inferring that they would have to trust his judgement in this, or not.

"One of us will have to go check him out." Silver said, scratching his chin as he thought. "But who? I can't leave the city. George is not an investigator. Marcel can't come out of hiding. Vikki and Maria have to report for work in the morning."

"Who's Maria?" Vikki asked, perplexed

"I am Maria, crisse de câlice tabernak." Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche swore, showing more than a few teeth in the process. "Maria Frédérique Louise Stella Eunice Chienne-Caniche."

"I didn't know that you were on first name basis with my mate, Eunice." Vikki pronounced it to rhyme with 'penis'. She flexed her bionic paw.

"I know him well enough to tell you the shape of his ...."

"Ladies, ladies. Please?"

"I was going to say 'his scars' mon cher." Miss CC batted her long lashes at Silver, but she was watching Vikki from the corner of her eye.

"I'll go." Kain spoke up, breaking the tension.

"I need your skills at the keyboard Algorath."

"I've been on the computer since I got home yesterday." Kain lied. He couldn't admit that he had spent several hours in bed with Ophelia because everyone but Silver thought she was dead, and he would be if he admitted seeing her. "I've already managed to get into the Academy servers, but the new guy they have is all over the place, checking this, looking at that, making it difficult for me to get around unnoticed. I've hit a brick wall and I could actually use a break, do something else while my mind works out the problem on its own."

"I thought that the fox servers were impregnable?" Silver sounded surprised.

"Nothing is impregnable. The new IT guy must not have understood how I set it up and made some changes that created a hole I could exploit." Kain lied.

"Where did they find this new guy?"

"Brazil." Miss CC answered. "According to his personnel file his name is Henry Wadsworth. He is a black caiman. This is his first time working in Canada, but he worked for a few Canadian aid projects overseas. Sudan, Haiti, China."

"By any chance did he work on a solar energy project in China recently?" Silver asked.

"Strange, but yes. What does that tell you?" The poodle's eyes narrowed.

"Only that he probably knows the new Commissionaire, and got this job through him." Silver looked sharply at Kain, who looked like he had seen a ghost. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. The name just ... reminded me of someone."

Marcel watched Silver's face as Silver studied Algorath. It had a familiar expression on it, familiar to Marcel at least. It was the 'we'll talk later' expression.

"Okay." Silver spoke finally, looking at Algorath. "You can go check it out. Find out all you can about the solar power project; who was the Chinese partner, who was in charge of the investigation when they were arrested, what this caiman had to do with the project. But at the same time I want you to see if you can hack into the RCMP files and see what more you can learn about their investigation into the killings." Silver looked about the room. "Has anyone seen Joel around?"

"No." Vikki and Kain answered simultaneously.

"He quit the Academy." Miss CC said and instant later. "Something about finding the truth about how his parents died." Silver looked down sadly at his feet at that.

"He's in jail." George injected. "One of our teams was keeping loose surveillance on him. He was found in a tavern washroom with a dead badger." Silver looked up sharply.

"Did you get a description of the badger?"

"Your age, tough but weathered. Felt hat, safari shirt, cargo pants, hiking boots. A well worn bible was found at the scene that the local cops are assuming was his."

"Have they charged Joel with anything yet?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time. They have a witness, one of the waitresses, that saw them arguing just before it happened and your lemur had some of the badger's blood on his paws."

"Silver, do you know this fellow?" Vikki asked.

"Not really, but we may have run into each other in the past. If he's the same badger then this is just another move in this chess game we seem to be caught up in." Silver's mouth had become a thin, hard line. Marcel knew that unlike Tancred Williams, Silver was not a big fan of chess. He preferred simpler games where knowing the odds, a little luck, and the occasional bold move could win the day.

"George, see what you can find out from your friends on the city force. The rest of you be extra careful. This guy is three steps ahead of us already and widening the gap. Did anybody find anything else that could be useful?" Silver asked hopefully.

"The basset, Parker, she is up hard." Miss CC spoke up.

"Eh?"

"Up hard. Frustré sexualement. Hornier than a rhino playing a tuba."

"You mean hard up." Silver corrected. "What makes you say that?"

"She reads your file a lot, mostly looking at the photos when she thinks I'm not around. She drools when she looks at your picture. I will have to replace them when she is done."

"She's a basset hound, they drool all the time, don't they?" Silver sounded embarrassed. Vikki was shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm sure it's nothing. Indigestion probably."

"No, she is definitely, how you say? Hard up." Miss CC asserted. "She has the heats for you. I know these things. You should seduce her." Marcel saw Vikki give Silver a warning stare, she obviously was not in favour of the idea. George looked distressed too for some reason. Getting no response from Silver, Miss CC continued. "If she won't cooperate we can at least compromise her so the RCMP has to fire her donkey."

"Her ass," Silver corrected absently, "fire her ass." He looked around for someone to change the subject. Vikki stepped in.

"You remember the talk we were having about Dongo Fett the night before this all started?" Silver nodded. "He seems to have read something that upset him and made him fall even farther off the wagon. That file Kain is accused of giving him access to. Do you know what was in it?"

Silver explained how Fett had made the shot of a lifetime, killing a Russian agent that had turned out to be an unexpected ally, in the mistaken notion that he was saving Silver's life. They had covered up the error to keep the Russians from coming after him seeking revenge. They had given him a job because it truly was a heroic shot.

"I can see why finding out that way would upset him," she continued, "but not to the degree he's suffering now. I spent all day with him, keeping him busy, trying to get him to talk about it, with no luck. But at least it kept him from drinking. Doctor Gordon is with him now, boring him with stories of his clinical trials."

"He is frustré aussi, also." Miss CC chimed in. "Not hard up though. Limp, I think, is his problem. Pas de puissance."

"Do you think everybody is sexually frustrated?" Vikki hissed at Miss CC while Silver absorbed the information about Fett.

"No, most, but not all. Silver, he is not frustré." The party poodle whispered back, and then added under her breath as she turned away "pas plus, câlice."

Marcel overheard her, but did not understand what she had said. Vikki must have heard her too, but far from being angry, as Marcel expected after a comment like that, she seemed to relax, and even smiled. Marcel decided to quit trying to figure females out. Living with an honest but oversexed one like Geno was hard enough.

Silver stood up, signalling an end to the meeting. "Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche, could I have a word with you alone, please." He retreated to a corner of the room and Miss CC followed him. Kain and George left the room. Marcel joined Vikki in the opposite corner.

"What did Miss CC say?" Marcel inquired. "Her goose has lice?"

"Pas plus, câlice." Vikki said, still smiling softly, the kind of smile Marcel would have died for when he was fixated with her. "Roughly translated it means 'Not anymore, dammit'."

Marcel glanced at Silver. He was speaking quietly to the buxom party poodle, who was grinning and nodding her head in response. When Silver was done she gave him a wink and turned to leave the room. To do so she had to pass close to Vikki and the tall vixen stepped in front of the poodle with an apologetic look.

"Listen, Marie, I'm sorry I didn't mean to ..."

"Don't mention it."

"I just wanted to apologise for assuming that you and Silver ..."

The black and white party poodle turned on Vikki faster than Marcel would have thought possible, what with all that meat on her chest to swing around. "No, really, do not talk about it." She snarled. Her eyes were wild and one paw had disappeared inside her oversized purse, where she always kept one of her Colt Pythons, Marcel recalled. Vikki was holding her robotic paw out as a shield, and the other was under her blouse where she had placed her pistol earlier. Marcel palmed a knife, wondering who he should side with if it came to a fight. Suddenly the life seemed to drain out of Miss CC. She pulled her paw from her bag, empty.

"Excuse, I am just ... frustrated." The tough poodle looked distraught, like she was about to cry. Marcel had never seen her like this, but he could understand how she felt. The former director Sir Wilbur, the walrus known as 'W', was rumoured to be a prodigious lover right up until cancer eventually killed him in his eighties. She was rumoured to have had countless other lovers, Silver amongst them until Vikki came along. Now with most of the senior agents and the headquarters staff either mated or gay the voluptuous poodle must indeed be 'hard up', he thought. He glanced at Silver, and saw that while the silver fox was looking elsewhere, one ear was cocked in their direction.

Miss CC pushed her way past the two foxes and left. Silver remained standing in the other corner, deep in thought. Vikki turned to Marcel.

"Marcel, could you do me a favour?" That demure smile was back.

"Sure Viks, anything." Marcel slid the knife back into its sheath. Hopefully Vikki would not ask him to take out Miss CC or anything drastic like that.

"Could you stand guard at the door while I have a word in private with Silver?"

"Okay." Marcel reached behind him to close the door and leaned against it, staring blankly back at Vikki.

"The other side, Marcel."

"Sorry?" He blinked, not understanding.

It was Vikki's turn to look frustrated. "Guard the door from the other side, please. I need a few minutes of Silver's time - in private."

A little light went on inside his head. "Oh! Right. Outside. Alone. Okay." He slipped out the door and closed it again. Seeing nowhere else to sit, he plopped to the floor with his back against it.

"Frustré." He whispered.

* * * * * * * *

Outside the building, Kain Algorath waited for the poodle and the weasel to disappear before venturing out of the shadows. However, instead of heading for the side street where he has parked his car he moved directly into another alleyway, where he checked his surroundings. Confirming that he was alone, he pulled a slim device from his pocket and activated it.

He typed into the screen "Did you get all that?" and pressed 'send'. He had arranged to have Ophelia listen in on his phone during the meeting. A moment later an affirmative reply came back.

"Can you check out this Reginald Paquin character?" He sent next. Again there was a positive reply. Using her in the field would allow him to concentrate on hacking into the Academy and his other research. That was his intention when he volunteered to look into the watchman's background. His story of needing a break had been bogus, he could spend days on the keyboard without getting tired.

"Anything new for me?" He inquired.

"I'll tell you when I get back." Her text read. "In the meantime, stay away from Miss CC. She's obviously 'up hard', and you are all mine."

* * * * * * * *

Silver was still arranging all the new information in his head when he felt Vikki's paw on his arm. He suspected that she might have a few things to say after her exchange with Miss CC.

"Listen Vikki, I know that Marie and I used to see each other occasionally, but ..." Before he could finish Vikki put a digit to his lips. Then she opened the flap that covered the controls of her bionic paw and dialled its power ratio down to 'gentle'. On that setting she could not generate anything more then a loose grip with it, and could not accidentally crush anything delicate. As if to demonstrate, she placed her artificial paw on his groin and gave it a tender squeeze. She slid her real paw up under his golf shift where it had pulled out of his jeans.

"Jesus Vikki, I've only been away from you less than twenty-four hours." He exclaimed, keeping his paws at his sides. But he didn't try to stop her. She pinched his one remaining nipple and rubbed his crotch harder in lieu of a response. "You sure that you want to make love in a dusty, dirty, old abandoned house?" He asked, looking around.

"I'll admit that it's not half as romantic as a hard wooden bench by a mosquito infected pond." Vikki said, mockingly, "but maybe it's time I learned a thing or two from Maria and Geno. Spontaneity, for one thing." As she spoke she turned Silver around and pushed him down into the armchair he had occupied earlier. At least it was cleaner than the ancient rug on the floor.

"Where's Marcel?"

"Guarding the door. Now shush." She removed his glasses, folded them, and put them on a nearby table.

Vikki forced his knees apart and stood between them as she toed off her sneakers. She kept the white ankle socks she wore on. Now that all was silent they could hear the thump of the bass from the music coming from a bar across the street. She swayed in time with it, humming softly to the familiar tune. She undid the buttons on her blouse, one by one.

When she had undone the last button Vikki pulled her blouse off and draped it around Silver's neck. She reached behind and pulled her brassiere off a moment later. Her firm breasts stood out from her chest, the nipples already showing through the downy fur that covered them. She unclipped her holster and leaned forward to tuck it and the gun it held between the armrest and the seat cushion of Silver's chair. As she did she let her brilliant red hair rain on his head, and when she straightened she brushed his snout with her breasts.

"Have you been talking to Mother Superior Rufina about me?" Silver inquired.

"The old nun that was a friend of W?" She asked. "Now what would a sweet old dear like that have to say about you?"

"You'd be surprised." Silver did not elaborate, because Vikki had leaned down again to undo the buttons holding the neck of his golf shirt closed. While she did she sealed his mouth with hers. His paws came up automatically and caressed her sides, sliding under her breasts and up to feel the nipples harden against his palms. Vikki finished the kiss before breaking away to pull his shirt over his head. It joined her blouse across the back of the armchair.

Her jeans were next to go. A flick of her digits undid the button that held them closed above her tail. She was able to shimmy out of them then, still keeping time with the dim music. She was wearing pale yellow panties with pastel pink trim. Silver could not recall ever having seen them before, on or off her. Within a minute he saw them both ways. The panties were warm against the back of his neck.

Vikki was dancing in place before him now, wearing nothing but white ankle socks. Her eyes were closed. She seemed to have lost herself in the music and forgotten all about him. A tall slim vixen, swinging and swaying to a song barely heard, almost imagined. Her bionic paw blended in perfectly to her forearm, a match for its mate. There were sensors built into the pads, linked to her nervous system through advanced interfaces. She claimed that it was more sensitive than her real one. He wondered what she was feeling now as it drifted slowly down from her breast to the tuft of bright red fur at the crux of her legs.

Silver watched as her paw unerringly found the slit in her sex and the middle digit disappeared inside. She was damp already, and the parting of her moist lower lips released a scent that traveled through him like a drug. Her other paw squeezed her right breast and pulled at the fully erect nipple. Though her eyes were still closed her mouth was slightly open. He tongue was poking out as her paw worked down below. Her tail came up behind her, a sure sign that she was ready, but she continued to rock on her feet and rub herself with her paws and ignore him.

Silver began to wonder if he was here to participate or merely as an observer. Never shy, and not one to hesitate when he saw something he wanted, he reached out with his paws and stroked her thighs. She moved in a half step closer, as far as she could before her shins bumped into the overstuffed chair. Silver sat up straighter, leaning forward so that he could reach around behind her. He caressed the globes of her butt and traced a circle around the base of her tail. He drew his claws down the inside of her thighs and tickled the backs of her knees. A shiver that ran through her was the only sign that she noticed.

Vikki leaned down and took his mouth with hers again. Their tongues entwined inside as lips mashed against teeth. The kiss went on forever, and Silver did not notice when she undid the waistband of his jeans. But he lifted his butt automatically when she started to pull them down over his hips, taking his shorts with them. She stopped when they were below his knees, her legs spread and straddling him now.

In previous relationships Silver would have been uncomfortable with his legs trapped. He would have removed his shoes and kicked the pants and underwear loose. He had a very real fear of being helpless in a sexual situation from incidents in his past that had left scars both outside and inside. But those fears were starting to disappear after two years of living with Vikki. A bond of love and trust had grown between them and it was slowly overwhelming the phobias that haunted him, the ones that only she, and Tanner, saw behind his stony facade.

He left the jeans and shorts where they were, bunched up just below his knees and holding his legs together. She had taken the lead, so he relaxed and let her keep it.

Of course the sight of her in her naked glory, the scent of her desire, and the feel of her smooth muscled flanks under his paws, was doing things to him. His cock had been hard before she had loosened his pants, and now it seemed to be able to sense her nearness. It stood straight up and strained toward her, seeming to grow longer as she leaned closer.

Vikki pulled her soggy digit from her vagina and traced the slit in its tip with it. Silver shuddered. The liquid that she spread felt hot and deliciously cold at the same time. Her paw dipped inside her again and returned wetter than before. She massaged her liquor into his pulsing pole. Another round trip, and now he was as slick as she and her paw slid up and down his shaft with ease. She sighed, her mouth still locked on his, and squeezed him tight with her robotic paw.

Silver stiffened, but just for an instant. He had seen her crush steel pipe with that paw when its power was cranked all the way up. But on this setting it just produced a pleasant tightness that flowed up and down his prick as she stoked it. He relaxed and let his paws wander over her again.

When Vikki moved her head away from his this time she was headed south. She nibbled his neck and sucked a bit of skin into her pursed lips. That's going to leave a mark, he thought as he felt the blood burning there. She continued down his chest, kissing the criss-crossed scars he refused to have removed, sucking on his one nipple, tonguing his navel. All the while stroking his cock slowly with her paw.

She had been lowering herself to her knees as she went. Her kisses drifted down to the line of his thigh, high on his hip, and back in to the centre where his cock stood. Vikki stopped stroking it and cupped his balls instead. Her lips took over from her paw on his shaft. Half-open, she ran them up and down his length, spreading warm saliva, licking at the bumps and protruding veins as she went. Her head twisted around as she continued so that she covered every bit of him.

Silver looked down on her. She was moaning softly while she massaged him with her mouth. He saw that her other arm was down between her legs, working furiously. He wished that he could do that for her, but his arms were not long enough. Instead, he ran his digits through her hair and caressed the sensitive spots he could reach, the insides of her ears, the sides of her breasts, and along her spine.

Having teased him enough, she took the whole of his cock into her mouth and closed it around the base. She keep her lips sealed as she drew her head back slowly, running her tongue back and forth inside. She opened them slightly on the downward journey, breathing hot air over him as she took him deep into her throat. She squeezed his sac a little harder, a little more urgently, but not painfully, and her hips wiggled in response to the ministrations of her own paw.

Silver tightened the muscles behind his balls as they threatened to empty themselves. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't watch and hold back the flood at the same time. His paws were on the sides of her head now, gently guiding her. His hips were rocking in time, bringing him up off the chair to meet her with every plunge. The swelling in his sac that signalled immanent orgasm had almost reached its peak. Her moans had become little yips of pleasure, and he knew that one of them would succumb soon.

Vikki must have sensed it too. She suddenly released his cock, leaving it wobbling, and pulled her paw away from her clit. She pushed Silver against the back of the chair and pressed his arms down on the armrests. She stood up and Silver could see the damp patch of fur surrounding the protruding pink lips. Vikki placed a paw on them, and using two digits spread them to reveal the glistening hole and the hard nub of flesh at its zenith. Placing her other paw on Silver's shoulder, she stepped up, onto the armrest, first with one foot, then the other. She was now squatting above his quivering cock.

Silver put a paw on each of her hips to steady her as she lowered herself down onto him. He felt her shudder, as he did, when the tip of his penis entered the opening she had made. With the tip firmly inside her, Vikki released her mons and let the double lips seal themselves around the head of his cock. Silver felt the solid ball of her clit, which seemed to vibrate against him. He felt it slide down his shaft as she engulfed it.

When she stopped her clit was crushed between their pelvic bones and his cock was fully encased. Vikki paused to adjust her footing, and Silver shifted his grip to cradle her ass. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she raised herself slowly, his were open in wonder. Even without his glasses he could see the inner sheath of her vagina being pulled out as it reluctantly left his shaft behind. When she reached the nadir and reversed direction it disappeared back inside, happily gobbling him up again. The sensation was wonderful, warm, wet, tight, and welcome.

She had pressed back so that his cock rode her clit. She stopped flexing her thighs and started rocking her hips only, polishing his shaft with the little pleasure pill. She stepped up the pace. Silver felt and smelled the pre-cum leaking from him, mixing with her moisture, helping to ease the ride. But she was in control now and all that Silver could do was hold on, and try to hold back as long as he could. He clutched her buttocks tighter, feeling the muscles move against his paws. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and tried to suck his balls back inside his pelvis, a manoeuvre he had learned in the brothels of Bangkok.

It worked, long enough for her to come first at least. Faster and faster she moved, her mouth agape, tongue hanging out. She drove him into her so hard that the heavy armchair tilted back each time, its back striking the wall, keeping it from falling over, its feet pounding the floor when she pulled back. Suddenly the juices flowed freely from her and a new scent filled the air. The smell triggered Silver's orgasm, and he pumped her full of cum as she continued to ride him like a rodeo cowgirl.

The music had disappeared, or maybe it was just drowned out by the pounding of the chair and their moans and groans of ecstasy as they lost themselves in the moment. It was quite a while before they were silent again.

* * * * * * * *

Marcel sat patiently against the other side of the door as the dust knocked loose by the jarring the old building was getting settled on him. He reflected on how he used to sneak up and spy on the pair when they were making love, back when he was seriously infatuated with the tall, elegant vixen. How he used to torture himself by hiding near the gazebo by the pond or in the bushes outside her room in the dorm!

This is just like old times, he thought.

* * * * * * * *

Joel had spent the night in the police station, where they grilled him mercilessly. In the early hours of the morning, while his former co-workers were heading back from their clandestine meeting, they processed him for transfer to the county jail pending arraignment. On his arrival they locked him up in the holding cell designed for hardened criminals awaiting trail.

It was a scare tactic, designed to loosen the tongues of the meek and vulnerable. The cage held a half a dozen tigers, bears and wolves, each looking like they had recently retired from the ultimate fighting circuit. They stared hungrily at the little lemur cowering in the corner closest to the guard post. Normally, an agent or employee of FOX would have been bailed out before being transferred. But he was no longer an employee of FOX, he reminded himself, and neither was anyone who may care enough for him to get him out. He had never felt so lonely and helpless in his life.

A trusty dragging a bucket entered the wing, nodded to the guard and proceeded to mop his way around the room. He was an old coyote, and looked like he had been locked up since the sixties. He eased his way up to the bars opposite Joel, where he lingered. Seeing that the trembling lemur was not about to break the ice he spoke up.

"First time in the county lock up sonny?"

Joel just looked up at him with wild scared eyes.

"If youse wants ta talk to the prosecutor or the cop in charge of ya case you just call on old Hank here." The coyote indicated himself with a thumb. "They'll take youse to a private cell while they questions ya." Letting the victims of this ploy know that they could get away from the scary denizens of the common area was part of his job as trusty. "O' course, if'n youse don't got nothing ta say they'll just plunk ya back here, and youse'll have ta spend the night with Bubba and the boys. In the dark. When there's no guard on watch."

The group in the other corner snickered at that. Apparently Bubba was their leader, a huge black bear with arms bigger than most creatures' legs and a gut to match. He was rubbing his crotch and drooling as he stared back at Joel.

"Don't .... Don't I get a phone call, or a lawyer, or something." Joel stammered. He couldn't take his eyes off the pack of predators.

"Depends on what youse intend ta do." Hank informed him. "If ya got a lawyer youse can call him. If ya want a public defender youse can ask for one. They'll get ya off, ain't that right boys?" The pack laughed out loud at the thought of it. "O' course if'n youse wants ta defend yaself then they gots to give you access ta research materials."

"They'll take me to the library?" Joel asked hopefully. "Or to a reading room, away from ... here?"

"Naw. They'll bring ya a laptoppy thing with access to the interwebs. No cruising porn on it though, they gots them sites blocked." He added dejectedly.

A laptop! Joel thought. He still had the note he had made in the tavern washroom tucked inside his sock. The police had missed it in their search for weapons and drugs up his various cavities. He had filled in the quotes he could remember and pondered their meaning whenever he could sneak it out, but their significance escaped him. If he could get on the Internet he could look them up, seek a common thread. Then, if he found it, he could notify someone. But who? The new masters at FOX would not care, of that he was certain. Silver would, but he did not know how to get a hold of Silver outside the Academy. Marcel was on the run. Kain had been fired and was probably sitting in that mansion over in Kanata, cruising the web for whoever had set him up, if that's what had happened. Who could be a good enough hacker to set Kain up, he wondered, and how would Kain track him down?

Suddenly, it came to him, a place to send his results where they were sure to be noticed. Now if he could get that laptop and find the answers before the sun set and Bubba and his crew moved in for a late lemur snack. He shuddered, but managed to stand up and ask the coyote to fetch him the laptop.

It was an ancient model, with an operating system so out of date Joel feared that half the websites would not work on its browser. His research was constantly interrupted by requests to download and install new programs, plug-ins, and patches. Of course he did not have administrative permission, so he had to go back and try other links until he found sites that would display despite the archaic software.

He entered the quote as he had written them down, adjusting the wording when the results were blank or made no sense. When he was done, he regarded his list:

Mad dogs and English;

Nothing new under it:

Loathsome canker lies in sweetest bud;

And in the morning we will remember them;

Be ye angry and sin not;

My mistress' eyes are nothing like; Like what? Joel wondered.

He googled them again, containing them in quotes to force the results that matched exactly to the top of the list. As he checked the returns for each he wrote down any words that seemed appropriate in a grid he created with the laptop's word processor. He wrote down authors names for the literary works, famous persons for the quotes, subject references for all of them.

When he was done one word appeared more often than any other. He ran the phases again, this time adding that word after a plus sign to the search criteria. That made it mandatory for the best results to contain that word. Sure enough, each and every quote and saying had an entry related to that word at or near the top of the list. It appeared in expanded versions of the literary quotes, and in explanations of the others, as the topic of the saying or something it was related to.

So he now had a single word, but it still made no sense to him. He had to get his results to Silver; the old fox would know what it meant, hopefully. Joel prayed that the badger was not just some random nut job, as he typed a web address into the browser window and hit 'enter'. The window changed quickly and Joel was glad to see that the site he wanted was still operating, so many of its type had disappeared lately. He began to compose his submission.

The guard was not paying attention to him, or anyone else in the room. He was studying a magazine that featured plenty of glossy photos of scantily clad males and females doing things in the water that would probably not be good for the environment. Joel recognized it from his own subscription. Off in the other corner, the coyote was talking through the bars with the bear. The bear passed something to the canine, which he examined with a smile before slipping it into his pocket. He picked up his mop and bucket and left the wing, laughing to himself.

Joel was just finishing up his message when there was a commotion in the hallway outside. Alarms were sounding and he heard the sound of running feet. The coyote rushed in, minus the cleaning gear, and shouted that there was riot in cellblock Alpha. The guard immediately dropped his magazine and rushed out the way the coyote had come in.

Hank pulled the door to the hallway closed and with a sly grin, produced a large brass key. He inserted it into the lock and turned it, leaving the key there. Having some experience with locks and restraining devices Joel realized that the guards were effectively locked out until either someone removed that key or they broke down the door. And what were the chances of that if no one was dying? He felt a sudden chill.

Joel looked around. The pack was arrayed in a semi circle and they were closing in on him. The bear named Bubba was in the middle of the group, and he flexed his paws anxiously as he drew nearer. Up close, Joel could see that the bear had knuckle scars on his face and face scars on his knuckles. He also had a rather large protrusion in his orange prison shorts. They all did.

Joel glanced at the laptop. His text was ready to go. He pressed the enter key and watched in horror as a little hour glass icon began to spin. The browser was trying to re-establish the Internet connection. He had to stall.

"Did I mention that I'm in for infecting a dozen partners with HIV?" Joel said loudly. "Six of them died." The pack hesitated.

"He's supposed ta have strangled a badger in a washroom." Hank the coyote chipped in. "Probably some sort o' sex crime. He looks the sort that would take ya money and leave ya with ya dick hangin' out." The bear grinned and advanced again. The soft chime of the laptop indicated that the connection had been made, but now Joel had to resend his message. He pressed 'send' again. A text box opened indicating that the message was loading. The status bar filled with agonizing slowness.

"Yes, I strangled the Badger!" Joel flexed his paws threateningly. "And I'll do the same to anyone that touches me. The rest may get me but not before I snap the neck of at least one or two of you! Come on, who wants to die!" He made a fierce face as he leaned over the laptop.

It appeared that the only thing the pack was in danger of dying from was laughter. Bubba pointed to a large tiger and then to the skinny lemur. The tiger tip-toed mockingly over to Joel and poked him with one digit. He went into a dramatic cringe as he waited for death to strike. When it didn't he marched scornfully back to join the rest, where they rolled on the floor, fighting for breath between giggles and snickers.

At least it had stopped them long enough for the message to load. Now he just needed confirmation that it was sent, but the little hour glass was spinning again. Another minute would do it, but Joel was out of bluffs and the pack's laughter was dying down.

"Wha - what are you going to do to me?" Joel stammered as the bear began to advance again.

"Lean you over that bench and tie your wrists to the bars so you don't scratch." He explained, pausing to tear strips from an old blanket for that purpose. "Then we'll tie your ankles to opposite legs of the bench so you don't kick one of us in the tenders and then we tie your tail to the ceiling, just so nothing gets in the way. Then we're gonna rape your sweet tailhole until the guards break in and stop us."

Joel glanced at the screen. His message was posted on the site.

"Well why you didn't say so." He shut the lid on laptop and slid it under the bench. "Tell me, what kind of knots do you favour?"

* * * * * * * *

It was late afternoon before Ophelia returned to the mansion. She had been on the move for over twenty-four hours so she was tired. She was sweaty too, having had to crawl back up the old sewer pipe to re-enter the house. All she wanted was a shower and a bed, for sleeping only at the moment. But Kain had had some success in his research and wanted to report back to Silver before getting some rest himself. Ophelia reluctantly filled him in on what she had discovered.

"First of all, the pandas that own the convenience store where Silver was filmed are being manipulated. According to the owner of the store next door the cameras were only installed two days before that incident. He remembers because he was asking the racoons who were installing it about getting some for his store. They claimed to be too busy for new customers but he wrote down the name printed on their van, intending to contact them later. The aardvarks started hanging around about the same time. It was obviously a trap, so I dropped in on the pandas and had a little chat with them. They had some trouble expressing themselves in English but they did just fine in Mandarin."

"I did not know that you could speak Chinese." Kain said. He did not ask about her questioning techniques. Some things were better not knowing about.

"I have plenty of time between jobs to study, and it helps to know a few popular languages when you travel as much as I do." She commented. "I speak eight now. Seems I have an ear for it."

"I'll say."

"Anyway, the pandas were put up to it by someone they were more afraid of than me." She looked momentarily disappointed. "They have family back in China, their eldest son and his family. Culturally, their safety is more important than their lives. Some thugs from the local security office visited them and made it clear that their parents should cooperate. The owners did not know who was manipulating them, but that creature had some influence in China obviously." Ophelia paused as Kain's computer beeped insistently. "Are you going to get that?"

"No. It's just an alert I set up to notify me when there new posts to some of the better hacker blogs. It goes off all the time, but I've been too busy to read the today. Hang on, I'll turn it off." Kain opened the site he was getting the alerts from and turned the notification feature off. "Weird," he said absently as he closed the browser, "someone posted a list of quotes on the page earlier today." It was different, and intriguing, but it would have to wait until this business with the attacks on FOX was over. "Go on." He instructed Ophelia as he turned away from the screen.

I tracked down that Squirrel's sister, the one she was supposed to be staying with before she was killed." Ophelia continued. "She was an easier nut to crack. She's a hooker from out west. Her little sister is too, and she wasn't fifteen, she was nineteen. But someone paid them to move to Ottawa, put them up in that apartment, and got fake ID for the younger one, to bring her age down. All in the last couple of weeks."

"The older one was supposed to be in the apartment when little sis brought 'Anthony Foxx' back. They were told to drug him and seduce him so that the cops could bust in and catch him with the 'under age' sister. She thought it was a sting operation or something. But you really can't find good help these days. She skipped out to score some crack and missed the whole thing. When she returned the cops were already there so she skedaddled. She's been hiding out since then, waiting for whoever set them up to find her and kill her."

"Another funny thing, the owner of the building didn't order security cameras installed, he doesn't have them on any of the other buildings and he didn't even know they were there. The recorder was found by the police under the stairs, in a utility room, after a tip off was called in. And guess who installed the new security cameras just the week before?"

"A couple of racoons in a van?"

"Bingo."

"Sounds like we should check these racoons out." Kain noted.

"Way ahead of you lover. I used the Interpol access you set up for me to run the name from the van through the local police files and got an address in the industrial area south of town. The racoons are not only security systems specialists, they are surveillance experts and private investigators too, with a little extortion racket on the side. I dropped in on them early this morning, before dawn."

"And?"

"They're dead." She said flatly. "Someone shot them and locked them in their unit. I'm no expert, but from the state they were in I'd say they met their maker about the same time as those aardvarks, and I don't think robbery was the motive. There was a lot of cash and high-priced electronic equipment lying about, but the only thing that was missing was the memory card from a really nice digital telephoto camera."

"Did you have time to visit our friend up the valley?" Kain asked, referring to the suspected child molester, Reginald Paquin.

"Sure, I borrowed the racoons' van. They weren't using it." Ophelia paused to rub her eyes, fatigue was setting in. "Reggie, as he is known around his village, is not home. He suddenly decided to move out west and find work in the oil sands, it seems. He sent notice to his boss, dropped a letter in his landlord's mailbox, and left a note for his folks, but the decision was so spontaneous that he forgot to cancel the appointment to have his transmission fixed before he left. It was supposed to be in his cousin's garage today. Can't understand how he could expect to get all the way out to Alberta in a car with a bad transmission, but the car is gone, as is Reggie, and his rug."

"His rug?"

"I claimed to be looking for a place to rent and the landlord showed me the apartment. He was pissed because Reggie had taken the living room rug when he left, and only cleaned one wall, the one opposite the door."

"You figure someone shot him and wrapped him in the blood stained rug to dispose of him in his own car?"

"Yes. Very amateurish, especially only cleaning the one wall. I didn't have time to check them out, but there are a number of deep lakes in that area. I'm betting that we'll find Reggie's tire tracks leading into one of them."

"Hmm. If you're right then whoever is doing this has killed at least four creatures. Let me tell you what I've managed to discover from examining FOX's servers with your laptop. I think they could be related." Kain spent the next thirty minutes detailing what he had learned. "What do you think?" He asked her when he was finished.

"I think you should go see Silver right away."